Go! Team

Third gig in a week is pretty good going for me, these days, and after one good one mixed I'm expecting this to be the highlight. Bought tickets months ago and rightly so as it's sold out the Shoreditch's smallish Village Underground. The Go! Team were the first band that Dabbie and I discovered together at a wonderful weekend at Bestival so they hold a special place my musical heart. I'm sporting a lovely flowery shirt which is more festival than tube commuter style and I get a fair few double takes on the Northern Line. Those on the way back or into work are probably jealous I'm going out and rubbing their noses into it. We get down to the venue fairly early to catch the support, which are often as good as or better than the main bands, see last blog, but there's a longish queue to the door. This either means that there's lots of kids eager to get in and have fun unable to buy drinks in a pub, unlikely in this case to be honest, or it will be full of overly eager muso types, more likely. As I hate queueing we retire to the Old Blue Last for a drink before waltzing in the the Village half an hour later. The crowd are hardly nippers but seem like a good mix and bunch as you'd expect for this band. All fans obviously.

Support are Glockabelle who I briefly Spotiyfied and seems like a strange French chanteuse type keyboardist. Quirky which I like. They are in fact a two piece being the front woman on keyboards and a very cool looking drummer who sports sunglasses throughout the set. Not sure why as the lighting is from behind (see poor quality photos below) but I guess looks are everything. His drumming doesn't let him down as he really goes for it thrashing the skins like they've done him some serious injury. The band have a range of styles from odd fairground type plunky keyboards which sound as if they are taking the mick but with the wild thrashing drumming sort of sounds good. Very good. There are french style chanteuse type songs with low pitched sultry singing occaisionally rising to a brief screech which seems to be a style and more eclectic synth runs sometimes verging on Rick Wakemanesque prog rock whch would not be good but again sort of works especially with that drumming. The lyrics seem to be pretty off the wall and I think mostly in French. One seems to be about a washing machine and others, well who knows probably what seems to be typically French playfulness in lyrics. After a while the drummer get's understandably tired and the singer implores him to lay down on the floor like a chat (so I can remember some of my ungraded French) and covers him with a blanket. Poor guy is obviously knackered. We are treated to a couple of songs on what I think is a stringed instrument lying flat with one played by our heroinne with metal thimbles on all her fingers showing off her amazing skills. Sounds fantastic a cross between a steel guitar and plonky piano. Soon the cool drummer is rejuventated and discarding his shirt starts banging seven shades of the proverbial out of his kit. We have a wonderful climax which includes soaring Bach like organs which is one of the few "classical" genres I enjoy maybe making me reminisce about church going days. That and French Horn music but let's not get into my Wind Band days. We are told that this is the first time they've played London and they loved it. And for us to go get the album which sounds as if is out on a strange half cassette tape half USB stick thingy. Must check that out. Although French speaking when speaking English the giirl's got a definite american twang so I wonder if they are Canadian. Must check that out but it would expain the thrashy punk rock drumming. They leave to a lot of applause. Well, leave is a bit strong, they faff about sorting out bits of the keyboards whilst the drummer searches around for his shades which fell off during one of his particularly animated sessions. Debbie nicknames him Animal from the muppets. He has that same wild style of playing. Well worth a look.

After a while and a lot of guitar tuning, well there are a lot of them, the floor gets packed and the lights go down and on come the Go! Team. Firstly without the main man who makes a dramatic leaping entry after the first song. They've 2 drummers, 2 guitarists, a bassist and singer but to be honest they all mix things up and swap instruments with one of them playing one of those long mouth organs with keys. They've lost none of their fun and edge and sound brilliant whilst jumping around the stage and exhorting us to too and to wave arms and such like nonsense. Not a lot of dancing I'm afraid but me and Debs and a few others in the crowd do our best to make some room for a bit of foot shuffling and jumping. Luckily those next to us were of a similar disposition so we had a bit of space to boogie in. The latest album is a return o the first with a great mix of indie dance hands up big back beats hip hop style nicely driven along by the two drummers. It's great to see a range of people on stage rather than the usual white males with possibly female vocalist. At times they really rock out and others bring a lovely lo fi feel to the set. Probably the best to dance to are the hip hop songs which one particular band member leads leaping about in near uncontrollable infectious excitment and it's her who gets us waving and clapping and bopping. Reminds me of old white label hip hop 7 inchers that I used to listen to at my mate Phil's back in my school days. Where are you know Phil? Still bippety bopping or settled down entirely? Anyways, the band race through the set a quite a pace and before we know it they're off. Obviously an encore is demanded and after a couple more that's our lot. They've gone down really well and makes me want to see them at a place where we can bounce around without stepping on other punters toes or trampling bags left on the floor. We take the back route to Old Street through deserted streets so unlike the thronging Shoreditch side streets, so much changed over the last 20 years, getting slightly lost in the labyrinth but it conveniently takes us past a pub which we duck into for a bit of light relief. A great night out and lovely to be out with Debbie just the two of us. What with all the waving Debbie dubs this as the Night of Hawaiiain Waves. Bouncy happy sunny music that should be outside in a sunny field, like we first saw them, rather than in a cramped club. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers. Uneventful journey home my mates will be glad to hear nothing to report.
 

Camera didn't like them - but they both looked very cool

Glock 'n' Chat

Go! Team give it some

Synchronised hand waving break down gives us a glimpse of rocking out guitarist

Hip hop and...

... and indie rock

The Decline of British Sea Power

Simon's birthday treat is to go see a band who've been around for a while and I've seen quite a few times before and mainly thought fantastic. British Sea Power are touring and have gone back to their roots and apparently are going to play the whole of their first album The Decline of British Sea Power. Should be good as it's a great album. Debbie and I arrive at the ex train turn table yard that is the Camden Roundhouse in time for the 8 o'clock whistle that heralds the excellent Japanese hard rock band that is Bo Ningen, If you don't know them they are thin, androgynous (mainly) with very long hair and play very loud harsh thrash heavy rock with a fair bit of improv and a very lot of edge. I'm not sure that the average BSP fan will like them especially as the punters are older than I expected about half of whom sport regulation BSP T shirts. Anyways Bo Ningen deliver a high octane thrash set that more than fills the cavernous space that is the Roundhouse. The sound is great which surprises me as it's usually crap unless you're right in the middle at the front and me and Debs and Chris, who we've met up with, are towards the back waiting for Simon and Jules. The Bos go down fairly well with the crowd and they seem to be pleased to be here. They are obviously good musicians and not the samey thrash that so many churn out. The lead singer and bassist finishes the set by playing his bass behind his head and then holding aloft by the main bit with the neck up whilst stood on the drummers platform. By this time one of the other guitarists is swinging his around by the neck as if it's a piece of rope rodeo style which makes a pretty good feedback sound and after an almighty and very satisfying cacophony they eventually leave the stage thanking us all to a fair bit of applause. Simon and Jules arrive to see the last numbers. Later I bump into one of the band when outside of the main hall during BSP and tell him how good they were and how I saw them play against Savages a while ago and that they are brilliant. I think he believed me and seemed very pleased for me to accost him. Maybe. So all united we go get drinks and prepare ourselves for the main event who I saw about a year ago at Koko with East India Youth supporting so to be fair to them they have some pretty eclectic support bands. Also saw them four years ago on Clapham Common which I noted in this very blog that they were a bit anthemic and boring. The times before I can't tell you about as before I started this blog which is one of it's main reasons in that it reminds me of who I have seen and when. And what they were like.

So British Sea Power take the stage and by this time it's crowded in the middle. We're behind one of the gorgeous pillars which ain't so if you're trying to see a band. So we go round to the right a bit. They plough through the album going off piste for a few songs and the crowd love them. Even slight signs of moshing or maybe simply old style pogoing. For me it doesn't happen though. They sound jaded and as if they're going through the motions. Just playing an old record that they moved on from a decade ago. If they weren't such good musicians they could have been a cover band. British C Power or some such near-name. As they go on I'm getting bored and irritable. There's queues for the bogs, about 9 urinals for the whole place, although it's refreshing to see blokes queueing whilst women waltz straight into their toilers, and the sound is dodgy and you can't see from a lot of the standing space due to pillars. Their set is short but I know that they'll come back on for a much longer than usual encore and they do. By this time I'm finding them irritatingly bland and interminable. So's Debbie who likens them to Bruce Springsteen. That ain't good by the way. Bland anthems, OK, maybe one good song but repeated ad nauseam, and going on and on and far too long. We can't leave cos it's Simon's birthday, even though him and Jules have gone into the crowd. Purgatory. Even the foliage on stage irritates me and as for the stuffed animals now I think of it they should be raided by whatever government department is responsible for stuffed animals. If this is off track from telling you about the music you are starting to get where my head was at. They go down a storm so maybe it's me this evening and not them. I guess a few thousand ageing punters can't be wrong. Speaking of which even trying to get to the loos is difficult negotiating the stomachs. There were smaller beer guts at the last beer festival I went to which reminds me as to why I haven't been to one in decades. They big bear on stage doesn't cheer me up neither it's crowd surfing antics. Jules likes it and declares that she's danced with the bear. To be honest I'd rather have watched the Hofmeister Bear. At least he had a decent hat. To add insult to injury towards the end I'm clouted by someone on the back of the head and when I turn round to see WTF is going on it's the big bear brushing past me having people who are old enough to know better taking selfies with it. The Arsenal mascot Gunnersaurus has more street cred than this one. And that is a travesty of the natural order of things. So yeah, I'm not in a great mood partly due to daughter daughter pick up and babysit cock ups but I put on a brave face so's Simon can enjoy his birthday outing. I think he sees through me. Eventually they finish to come back on for a final couple of tunes. Then blissful silence. Simon's up early for a car boot so no stopping out in Camden going for cocktails or clubbing so we journey south on the Northern Line.

Post script is that maybe it was me and they'll be better next time. Which there surely will be. Possibly at a Leicester festival. Sunday sees me in Brockwell Park and after seeing Simon and Jules at the car boot catch a large folk band who to be honest are more entertaining and authentic than BSP. See their pic below. On their day BSP are great and as I've seen them play duff sets before let's hope that last night was either them on an off day or me on an off day and that it doesn't herald The Decline of British Sea Power.

The excellent Bo Ningen

The climax

Lovely architecture and lighting, crap acoustics and view of stage

BSP

Mascot on LHS

Brockwell Park folk band - average age of punters slightly younger than last night

KC and her Magic Band

Maya arrives standard 15 minutes late seemingly surprised that I was on time. Despite me sampling a vegan burger and sides at Inspiral on the lock. Gotta get in the mood for americana. We get into the Electric Ballroom having to queue up to show my entry number emailed to me. Environmentally friendly but inconvenient. Ah well. Maya's bag is searched - the CV in it doesn't get her offered a job as a bouncer. First band are already on. Pinkwash are a duo with heavy metal guitarist and similar drummer. They sound good if you like that sort of heavy metal grunge sound, which I can be partial to, but the singer's high pitched voice sort of grates on you and I wouldn't say that it's a pleasant experience. The guitarist likes his heavy rock rhythm guitarist moves and Maya's take is School of Rock. I agree. The guy has a surprisingly softly spoken american accent when he speaks to us and is obviously chuffed to be supporting Waxahatchee and so they are warmly applauded by the sparse crowd and I will give them the benefit of the doubt next time. Maybe I needed a couple of drinks in me and to be headbanging along with them.

After the usual stage setup shenanigans the hotly anticipated Girlpool take the stage. They look young and with one severe fringe and two side head buns look the part of angst ridden grungy rock. A bassist (from whom I could learn a hell of a lot) and guitarist are Girlpool and they give us a fantastic set of beautiful yet hard hitting songs straight out of garageland with brilliant vocal harmonies. Well, not yer Welsh voice choir harmonies Pete but earnest and playful two voices bouncing off each other. They are very very good. The throaty bass and sometimes heavy sometimes sharp sounding guitar compliment each other perfectly. Would be interesting to hear them jamming with Pinkwash but for now they don't need improving one bit. They chat with us and are so happy to be here. One song the guitarist drops her plectrum and they have to carry on at a convenient point. Then it's dropped again (sweaty finger nerves or the lights?) and after a lot of laughter from them and us they decide that it's not worth finishing the jinxed song. Any disappointment is broken by Girlpool telling us that "it's on the album anyway" which makes us laugh again and is a brilliant piece of marketing. I must go buy. They leave to a lot of applause and american style shouting out, just to make them feel at home, from the much fuller crowd and it's a shame they're not back for an encore.

Glowing in the reflected glory of taking Maya to see such a great gig, go on admit it, I am cool Maya!, we are treated to the comical spectacle of a 6'6" roadie testing the mics for 5'6" singers. Again and again. Then tested again by Katie C. Eventually the lights are dimmed and Waxahatchee take the stage. Katie Crutchfield's band vehicle go straight into motoring rock with none of this messing about with coy angsty indieness. The five piece deliver a big big sound which is a coming together of singer songwriter sensitivity (Katie must have listened to The Bedsit Disco Queen herself Tracey Thorn), north west coast grunge and southern american folksy swampland roots blues mashup sort of a vibe. Heavy too. Incredible voice over the top is the icing on a phat rocking cake. A lot of the songs I recognise from the new album Ivy Tripp, I must google where that title came from, and live they sound great. A fuller sound than the record but that's not a bad thing when you're in a close sweaty club. Although sounding fresh and current this would've gone down well back in the day when I used to go clubbing at the Electric Ballroom indie and funk disco one of the few places in London to groove to disco back in the late 80s except for Gossips but I digress. I'm not sure whether Waxahatchee will ever be filed in the Rock section of our returning vinyl record stores but they surely can hold their own against cod piece rockers live. I saw the band back in January in St Pancras Old Church where it was really Katie with friends and necessarily a lot more restrained than tonight. They certainly rocked 18 months ago at the Scala when I went on my tod (http://psicle.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/i-wandered-lonely-as-cloud.html) and if anything they've tightened up the sound. All the band members hold their own and it doesn't seem like merely KC's backing band. As they get to the end of the storming set I am surprisingly (as I usually like my music loud and fast) wondering if they'll bring it down a notch and if Katie will give us a few of her solo songs. Up to now they've been very upbeat bringing us the sunny side of the deep south rather than the downsides. The band leave the stage and I tell Maya that Katie'll be back on her own and sure enough she does return for a few solo numbers that drill right down to your soul. A magical end to a great set. We leave the Ballroom and I walk Maya to the number 29 before heading back south Northern Line pitying the travellers for not having been in an old sweaty club in Camden. As I would have been singing a quarter of a century ago in the Ballroom, that's the way uh huh uh huh I like it uh huh uh huh.

The fabulous GIRLPOOL

Katie sings

Bathed in light

Versatile

The whole of Waxahatchee. Just.

KC finishes off for us

North London, mainly

Saturday starts well with a lovely bike ride along the Thames path out to Hampton Court only spoiled by a 30 mph wipe out in Richmond Park due to dodgy front wheel butterfly nut loosening. Nothing broken. Hopefully. Old Peugeot Mixte now in garage awaiting safety work. Bruised still. Wish it had been videoed but where's CCTV when you need it. Then down to Waterloo to watch The Arsenal boss Villa to get our record number of FA Cups. Celebrate with a couple of drinks with Pete people watching on the South Bank. Back home to watch MOTD highlights to end a great day despite near death experience. Wimp out of Sunday's parade due to weather although Jack says it was crowded. Tuesday evening north of the river near the home of football, well Drummond Street, to meet my 90s Highbury mate Shaun who I've nearly lost contact with but now back again to find that we're both avid cyclists and still click. I just missed him at the Cote de Chevin for Le Tour de Yorkshire which he impressively rode in the sportif. A drink and a dosa / bell poori meal go down well. We're accosted by an interesting ex con who regales us with tales of prisons and shootings back in the day when screws were bossed by the blokes inside. Shaun is an inspiration to him as he's able to sit outside a pub drinking pints (Shaun that is) and talks knowledgeably about various prisons. The guy thinks Shaun's done time rather than works with prisoners. Anyways I have to leave Shaun and hot foot it up to Highbury Corner for the gig tonight. Now Howe Gelb is someone I've seen before with various muso stars but wasn't overly impressed although thought some promising songs if that ain't too condescending for someone who's obviously a bit of a cult star (see previous post). Pete has persuaded me to give him another go and so I find myself in the Union Chapel which is a nice enough church but with it's pews and nowhere to stand and pogo is no place for a rock and roll band. Deal was that Pete goes to see George Clinton with me (11/10 rating - see previous post) and I go see Giant Sands (1/10 rating*). You got the better deal Pete! Starting at 7.40 there are various band members doing solo or duo slots before the full band appear. To be frank it's not my scene sitting in reverence listening to slow droning C&W with twiddly bits that don't excite. And as for the inter song banter which is mumbled by Howe and the audience guffawing at the droll (read weak) in jokes it's, well, let's just say putting my experience in the red. Lovely bar upstairs tho (no drink in the pews of course) and the boys (Pete, Chris, Nick) plan world domination with our band. OK so we're still deciding who does what and whether any of us can sing. Or even play any instruments. But with a week in a Welsh cottage in the autumn how can we fail...  And surely we have a sympathetic journalist in Julia who happens to be sat in the pew just along from where we are so we have a lovely chat after the gig been too long. Now although I'm dismissive of Giant Sands lots of others seem to love him / them. There again look how many voted Tory and UKIP. I know I'm right. After too much time in the bar and hanging outside we're off and I leave Nick promising to bring my front light to the party on 18th for the 18th. It's going to be a weird mix of 18th birthday and partial retirement apparently and I assume that us footie blokes have only been invited as entertainment seeing as Old Men Grooving is hip and out there. There's only one team in north London. Well, excepting Barnet, which is Middlesex anyway, there will be when the Spuds have to take over Upton Park for a season or two.

* the 1 is cos at least we could go up to the bar which is more than I could do back in my church going days where they watered down the wine but I guess watered down beer was par for the course back in Watney days and why should the church behave any better than dodgy pubs.

My best photo of the night was this when we had light relief with the two girls and just so this isn't a wasted blog there's one of my favourite bits of graffiti...

Lovely when the light streams in

Banksy ? alongside brilliantly ironic life choice statement