Tuesday 20 November 2018

LIVE REVIEWS!!!

(Featuring two of the best gigs of the year!!!)

ROLLING BLACKOUTS COASTAL FEVER: Koko 29/10





Regular readers of this here little blog will no doubt remember that around eighteen months or so ago, I waxed lyrical - in a major way - about a new combo I had discovered that went by the handle of Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever. Their debut EP - the magnificently wonderful 'The French Press' - was a six-song collection of all the finest things that classic indie-rock has to offer. Janglesome guitars, shuffling drums, swooning bass, crunchy riffs, searing solos, three-part harmony vocals, key changes from the gods and choruses to die for. Truly, all human life was here. The fact that they almost bettered it on their second release - the seven-song 'Talk Tight' EP - just proved to me what a very special band this bunch were. Hailing from the perma-sunny climes of Melbourne, the group are comprised of the three principal singer/songwriters - all of whom also play guitar - Fran Keaney, Tom Russo and Joe White, who are ably backed up by Russo's brother Joe on bass and drummer Marcel Tussie. Forming in 2013 and touring solidly since, by the time of last year's two releases they came across to me as pretty much fully formed and with a confidence that belied their short time together. Fusing early 90s style alt-indie with a jangly backbone that brings to mind The Byrds and The Smiths having a good old-fashioned pow-wow, there are also traces of The Velvet Underground, Teenage Fanclub and The Go-Betweens within their glorious punch-the-air-in-joy tunes. It was fair to say that by the time the band came over to the UK for their first London gigs last autumn I was champing at the bit. Those first two gigs last September - at The Lexington and The Moth Club - were as tremendously exciting as almost anything else I witnessed last year. Indeed, by the time of my 2017 Live Review, only the extraordinary 3 hour rock masterclass of Metallica's O2 show was good enough to keep RBCF off the top spot. The guys then went back home to finish the recording of their debut album before returning to the UK in May of this year for another barnstorming show at Camden's Electric Ballroom before the 'Hope Downs' LP  hit the shelves in June. A stupendous batch of ten brand new songs, the album is - to my ears at least - one of the finest debuts of modern times and has a pretty fair shake of making it to the pinnacle of my Albums Of The Year List which I'll be posting in early January. Chock full of tunes and brimming with vim and gusto, 'Hope Downs' is an absolute blast from top to bottom with tracks like the insanely catchy Talking Straight and the barreling groove of An Air-Conditioned Man moving the band on to a different level of brilliance. I've said it before and I'm more than happy to say it again: I haven't been this impressed by a band since I first heard R.E.M. and the Pixies almost 30 years ago.

And so to their return to London at the end of last month - and what a return. After stealing the show at various festivals across the summer, RBCF hit the venerable old KOKO theater basking in the hugely positive reviews and rave notices for 'Hope Downs' and put on a show of quite thrilling intensity and utterly joyful abandon. Playing to completely sold-out venue, and obviously having the time of their lives, the guys were on fire from first to last. With Keaney, White and Tom Russo front and centre and locked into their spiralling guitar grooves whilst Joe Russo and Tussie's wondrous rhythm section glided away behind them, the fun never stopped. Pretty much the whole of the new album was aired with the aforementioned An Air-Conditioned Man taking pride of place for me and stealing the show, although Mainland, Exclusive Grave and Sister's Jeans came close with their heady mix of Pavement-esque alt-rock and Orange Juice inspired jangle. The two EP's weren't short-changed either and there's a real sturdiness now to earlier tracks like Wither With You and the wildly exciting Clean Slate. Talking Straight and French Press were the singalong highlights for most of the audience and there was the sense of a real moment in this band's trajectory too - I can't remember a more celebratory atmosphere among the band and the crowd. Indeed, this was a gig that harked back to that febrile alternative period of the early 90's when any group with a couple of guitars and a ramshackle appearance looked like they might become world-beaters. RBCF could most definitely become one of those bands - and if they keep writing songs as utterly fantastic as Fountain Of Good Fortune (which on tonight's showing could be the greatest song of all-time) - then the sky's the limit for this very special combo.


SETLIST:

The Hammer
Clean Slate
Wither With You
Talking Straight
Sister's Jeans
Sick Bug
An Air-Conditioned Man
Colours Run
Exclusive Grave
Bellarine
Julie's Place
Mainland
Fountain Of Good Fortune
French Press

Time In Common
Wide Eyes


PIXIES: Roundhouse 30/10



The history of the mighty Pixies is pretty much common knowledge by now, or at least should be, but here's a brief primer: Formed in the late 80's in Boston by University of Massachusetts alumni Charles Thompson, Joey Santiago and Dave Lovering, the trio were joined by bassist Kim Deal after she answered an ad placed by Thompson that asked for a fan of  "Husker Du and Peter, Paul And Mary". With the original line-up locked in and Thompson changing his name to Black Francis, the quartet went out on the road where their bizarre meld of melodic alt-rock, Latin influenced rhythms and scuzzy grunge found huge favour among the more discerning listener. Quickly signed to 4AD - everyone's favourite esoteric indie label - the band released mini-album 'Come On Pilgrim' in 1987. Stuffed to the gills with extraordinary songs, the album ranked high on pretty much everybody's end of year lists. Nothing much had sounded like it before but it's influence has been felt countless times down the following three decades. With Francis screaming like a banshee throughout and his and Santiago's duelling guitar lines and brain-rattling riffs fusing perfectly with Lovering's crashing drums and Deal's fluid bass-lines, the quartet sounded as if they'd been doing this indie-rock thing for years. Francis' lyrics were new and exciting too, covering an array of disturbing and outre subjects like extra-terrestrial beings, incest, biblical violence and loads more other stuff to scare the parents. After the release of 'Pilgrim' the fun never stopped. 1988's magnificent 'Surfer Rosa' was another collection of utterly spellbinding songs and the following year's 'Doolittle' was possibly even better, containing those timeless indie-disco classics Debaser and Monkey Gone To Heaven.
The quality control dipped slightly with 1990's 'Bossanova' - although it was still better than any other alt-rock album of that year - and by the time of 1991's uneven 'Trompe Le Monde' rifts had started to appear within the ranks. Francis split the band not long after, changed his name to Frank Black and embarked upon a fitful solo career. Deal - who had butted heads with Francis the most - jumped straight back into the fray with her new project The Breeders and enjoyed massive sales with 1993's stone cold classic 'Last Splash' album, featuring the glorious Cannonball single. Santiago and Lovering both drifted through various projects and all four members watched from afar as their legacy grew throughout the nineties. The band were never commercially successful in their heyday but their critical cache was huge. So many bands who enjoyed massive success and acclaim afterward would cite the Pixies as inspirations - the most famous of course being Kurt Cobain who stated on many occasions that he was "ripping off the Pixies on Teen Spirit". So, although the band had always turned down offers to reform before, it was no real surprise when Black and Deal buried the hatchet in 2004 and along with Santiago and Lovering, embarked on what has become a pretty never-ending jaunt around the world that has made them millions and allowed then to record two new albums of material. Kim Deal eventually left in 2013 and has since been replaced by former A Perfect Circle/Zwan bassist Paz Lenchantin who has done a sterling job ever since. The new music - especially 'Head Carrier' from 2016 - is excellent but nothing quite matches those early albums so, after touring 'Doolittle' in full in 2009, this year's thirtieth anniversary of 'Surfer Rosa' now sees Black and the gang revisiting those early songs for a five-night stretch at Camden's Roundhouse before heading to South America for more dates. So, do all of those weird little tales still stand up?



Oh yes - they do. And then some. Visceral, unhinged, twisted and deranged, songs like Caribou, Vamos, Ed Is Dead and Nimrod's Son - with it's still shocking "you are the son of a mother fucker" refrain - smack you round the head and scream in your ears straight away as 'Come On Pilgrim' gets a full airing. Thompson - who has now reverted back to his birth name - has somehow still managed to hang onto that astonishing screech of his and his demented howl of  "REPENT!!!" in Caribou is monstrous and wonderful in equal measure - like an insane gospel preacher who gives you candy after scaring the bejeezus out of you first. 'Pilgrim' is followed by a cover of Lady In The Radiator Song from David Lynch's Eraserhead movie - no surprise as Lynch's rather askew worldview is obviously favoured by the band. 'Surfer Rosa' then follows and what a stunningly original suite of songs it still is. Wild, weird and wondrous, this is music that will never date and will be influential for decades to come. Crazed cacophonies of ear-bleeding brilliance and mad, whirling dervishes of sound, songs like Bone Machine, Broken Face, Cactus and Break My Body are as good as anything in the popular music canon of the last 50 years. But it is, of course, that three-song string of magnificence in the centre of 'Surfer Rosa' that cemented the Pixies place in the pantheon all those years ago and still raises the rafters today. River Euphrates and Where Is My Mind? cause mass singalongs, giant communal hugs and moshing aplenty in the heart of the scrum but it's Kim Deal's glorious Gigantic that hits hardest. The song hasn't been performed since Deal's exit - Thompson graciously conceded that she performed it best - but due to this event's conceit it has to be played tonight. Lenchantin does an excellent job of filling in (although Deal's laid-back insouciance is sorely missed) but it still boils down to that incredible mix of guitars during the song's instrumental coda - Santiago and Thompson bouncing off each other musically and firing riffs back and forth and hither and yon. It's sublime stuff. Indeed, musically tonight the band are on top form. Lovering's pounding beats filling the room with thunderous power and Santiago proving yet again that his left of centre solos and off-kilter riffing is as unique as ever. Thompson is in excoriating voice all night - and hats off to him for whatever regimen he's keeping up to allow that scream to still do it's business. As usual, there's little to no interaction with the audience - they were never renowned for being chatty - and even the spoken word interludes on 'Rosa' are read out by Thompson on a piece of paper. But as always with this very special band, it's all about the music. Following the call and response wails and yelps of Brick Is Red, there's a healthy encore of B-Sides and current band favourites - Um Chagga Lagga from 'Head Carrier' was especially welcome - before they take their bows and prepare for night two. Thrillingly brilliant and utterly tremendous, the Pixies are still walking their own path and showing everyone else what needs to be done.

SETLIST:

Caribou
Vamos
 Isla de Encanta
Ed Is Dead
The Holiday Song
Nimrod's Son
I've Been Tired
Levitate Me

In Heaven (Lady In The Radiator Song)

Bone Machine
Break My Body
Something Against You
Broken Face
Gigantic
River Euphrates
Where is My Mind?
Cactus
Tony's Theme
Oh My Golly
Vamos 
I'm Amazed
Brick Is Red

Build High
Down To The Well
Rock A My Soul
Um Chagga Lagga
Into The White
Planet Of Sound