Live: Spektrum (Night & Day, Manchester, 9.2.08.)

Bands put themselves at the mercy of a lot of different factors when they hit the road. Fickle business that it is, fans swarm like moths from one shiny thing to the next and if you pause for a moment, the next younger, brighter, shiner thing usurps you without even a bye or leave.

So for a band like Spektrum, who were doing this electro-punk-funk hyphen-pop thing waaay before the likes of Metronomy, Late Of The Pier and the other upstarts, it must be difficult knowing where your next audience is going to come from. That's before you figure in other obstacles like 'flu-ridden band members and useless soundmen.

Frontwoman, Lola Olafisoye is a bewitching presence onstage, but tonight she's without her stoic counter-balance, knob-twiddler Gabriel Olegavich (struck with the aforementioned 'flu) and seems a little at sea, despite an able rhythm section and the warmth from the small crowd. Matters are made worse by her needing to keep prodding the soundman to play the backing track (making up for Olegavich's absence) in-between lines.

Also, the newest songs here are over twelve months old, so you can expect a little sluggishness here and there. Still, 'May Day' is a storming opener, 'Cedar' is lascivious enough to knock the temperature up a notch and 'Kinda New', blended with the famous Tiefschwarz remix, is nothing short of brilliance. It's a patchy, occasionally frustrating night for Spektrum though, through no fault of their own and one that almost makes you wonder whether being a vanguard is worth it in this day and age.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3452&band=2147

Live: Akron/Family and Phosphorescent (The Phoenix, Manchester, 30.11.07.)

There seems to be a legion of American underground bands blending bucolic electronics with folk weirdness these days so it seems appropriate that two of these should be sharing a bill. First up is Michael Houck a.k.a. Pitchfork-approved off-kilter troubadour, Phosphorescent.

Houck's recently-released second album, Pride is currently the subject of much chatter in the blogosphere and it isn't hard to see why. Making full use of his effects pedal, Houck cuts a solitary figure onstage but makes up for it with liberal usage of live looping techniques, used to great effect on a unifying closing cover of 'Suspicious Minds'. It's on the more intimate, Will Oldham-esque songs that he really excels though, like the beguiling 'Cocaine Lights'. Definitely one to watch.

Akron/Family are a different proposition altogether though. Coming with an in-built pedigree and a fearsome live reputation, they start promisingly with a couple of lithe, groove-laden, yet hushed numbers, before disappearing up their collective rectum with copious amounts of freeform wibbling and noodling.

It all culminates in an astonishing, rowdy run through of 'Ed Is A Portal' but, for me, they hadn't done enough to deserve the rapturous applause and pogoing that accompanies it. Akron/Family need to spend more time tweaking the finer points of their live show and learn how to manage the peaks and troughs of their set (tonight is wildly uneven) if they're ever to be considered a truly special band. Phosphorescent, on the other hand, is almost there.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3345&band=1401

Live: Robyn (Manchester Club Academy, 8.11.07.)

The first thing I notice on entering Club Academy is that this must be the most diverse crowd I've seen in ages. There are the ever-present hipsters (onboard since Pitchfork gave her album a rave in 2005, obviously), a fair smattering of young girls (newly-converted since 'With Every Heartbeat' broke), a healthy representation from the gay community (male and female, natch) and quite a few incongruous-looking older men (whom I most closely resemble, I fear), all gathered to see everyone's favourite new (not that new at all really) popstar.

The general apprehension when approaching live pop music, especially when it's largely electronic on record, is that the live band tack can sometimes be doomed to fail. Songs fall flat when session musicians are allowed to 'jam', but Robyn has a shrewd, tight backing band in collaborators – and tonight's support act – Kleerup, who strike the right balance between synthetic and organic.

The tempo rarely drops below giving-it-some, meaning that the songs are allowed to burst from the sound system with the vitality they have on record and the brief, punchy set list harbours no filler. 'Konichiwa Bitches', 'Who's That Girl?' (Robyn herself on floor tom duties) and 'Be Mine!' all stand out, but the obscure, Christian Falk-penned 'Dream On' and oldie 'Keep The Fire Burning' split the vote for song of the night.

Those who stick around past the first encore are treated to intimate, semi-acoustic versions of "that number one hit" and 'Be Mine!' and by this point it's clear that Robyn is every inch – all sixty of them - the star. It's just a shame that it's taken this long for us all to catch on.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3302&band=1646

Live: DPercussion 2007

The two best things about D:Percussion are a) the anticipation leading up to the day, finding out who’s playing and where and such forth, and b) bumping into people you never see any other time of the year. Everything else is just a bonus.

Bonuses this time around included Elektrons’ tight, funky, lithe set full of northern soul, with just a little disco and hip-hop thrown in for good measure. Let’s crown Justin and Luke the kings of Manchester and be done with it. They’d be humble, noble rulers. Also, The Whip were dependably ace, with ‘Trash’ in particular being suitably rabble-rousing. Also, FC Kahuna’s jackin’ electro-house DJ set was just the tonic as the night started to draw in.

There’s always something that pisses on your chips though, be it Norman Jay’s patronising early rave set, the non-event of Badly Drawn Boy’s mini-appearance or the sheer lack of any well-stocked bars past 6pm. That’s what D:Percussion was always about though, wasn’t it? Hopefully someone will do something similar, yet altogether different this time next year. It can’t fail, can it?

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2975&band=1889

Album: Ratatat - Remixes Volume II (Self-released)

Sometimes a listening experience cannot be extricated from the possible cultural impact of the record, however infinitesimal it may be. Occasionally, it's near-impossible to be completely objective when faced with certain glaring outside influences that don't allow you to review an album purely on its own musical terms. Ratatat's Remixes Volume II is one of those records. Try as I might to say in 300 words how each of Evan Mast and Mike Stroud's re-imaginings of contemporary rap tunes compiled here have the ability to rock a party from twenty paces, there's just something about this album that doesn't sit right with me.

Not to be unfair to Ratatat, as there's an obvious love, respect and knowledge of their source material here which shines through. It's the blog coverage bestowed upon this and its predecessor that plain stinks of the crass co-opting of black culture by the white middle class that Sacha Baron Cohen tried to censure in his Ali G days. The 'Wigga' effect, if you will.

I'm self-aware enough to realise that this review smacks of white liberal guilt, but let's have it right; none of the people lauding this record on the internet are going to go out and buy a UGK or Z-Ro album, are they? If this was released on Swishahouse (suspend disbelief and bear with me), sounding exactly as it does, only with Ratatat's name taken off and replaced with that of Michael '5000' Watts, it would have been marginalised by all areas of the press other than the hip-hop mags. I guess that, in short, I'm trying to say I'm a big enough fan of hip-hop to appreciate these tracks in their original states. I don't need hipster bloggers to validate their worth for me, via the conduit of a vaguely prurient hype-stream.

For the music though…

3/5

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2734&band=1583

Live: The Aliens (Manchester Academy 3, 30.5.07.)

When The Beta Band called time on their up-and-down but never less than interesting career, I was just as intrigued to see what John Maclean (decks, keys) and Robin Jones (drums) would do next as I was to see what Steve Mason could come up with when left to his own devices. As we all know now, Mason grew disinterested with music pretty much as soon as he cut his King Biscuit Time debut, but John and Robin decided to pal up with another maverick frontman, Gordon Anderson aka Lone Pigeon.

Tonight's gig leads me to think that they shouldn't have bothered. John, the electronics master and Robin, the funky drummer are left pandering to Anderson's every flower-power whim, which leads to most of tonight's gig being a mess of muddied sonics and overly histrionic fret-wankery, with the odd bleep, glitch and break thrown in at the sake of eclecticism.

Erratic doesn't begin to cover it and Anderson does not help matters, wittering away between songs, telling bad jokes and generally stilting any momentum they might achieve. On record, the musical magpie effect is often pleasing and at the very least charming, but live it's just frustrating. Doubly so, when you realise that The Aliens do have quite a few really good songs. 'Only Waiting' is buried under wig-out excess and 'Ionas (Look For Space)' could do with being stripped of about five minutes of directionless noodling.

Things pick up at the end with a chunky 'Robot Man', a rowdy 'The Happy Song' and an edifying 'Rox', but it's too little, too late. Maclean and Jones need to ditch the Pigeon and make with the beats. Then things might start to get really out-of-this-world.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2725&band=1642

Live: Kathy Diamond @ El Diablo's 4th Birthday (Po Na Na, Manchester, 27.5.07.)

Kathy Diamond, I love you, but last night you brought me down. Your impervious, superlative debut album, Miss Diamond To You is a great record and one of the year’s best so far, all shimmering, smoked-out disco-soul of the highest order. Quite why you feel like you should denigrate the material in the live arena by belting it out like a hen-night fishwife with too many Vodka & Red Bulls inside you is completely beyond me.

An album as fine as yours deserves to be treated with the class and respect that only a full live band can bring, but instead you and Mr Maurice Fulton presented us with a glorified PA, Maurice looking all bored in back, spinning instrumentals from the album, you upfront giving it the bluster normally reserved for forgotten Europop divas desperately trying to salvage something, anything from the wreckage of a career that’s been reduced to a three-song hits spot at the local Ritzy’s.

I didn’t want to have to write this review, Kathy, but you drove me to it. The blatant, overly-showy mishandling of your beautiful music was completely uncalled for and my massive, crushing disappointment at this has led me to write this in the hope that you see it, take my notes onboard and go back to rethinking just how to make the songs sparkle in the live arena, because last night’s show was most definitely not the way to do it.

Hey, what the fuck do I know? I’m only a fan. How is it my place to tell you how to do your thing? It’s because I’m a fan of your work, first and foremost that I’m writing in this manner. I could have approached this review with the cold, detached air of a critic and ritually dismantled every one of last night’s missteps. The wretched bummer of last night’s gig was a killer blow after a month’s anticipation from buying the tickets to arriving at the club that has left me and I’m sure many others despondent.

Kathy, you seem like a lovely person and you and Maurice make a wonderful team on record, but last night, when you seemingly couldn’t have carried a tune in a bucket, you broke my heart.

Yours disconsolately,

James Morton

http://www.rachaelburns.net/html/music/2007/05/gig-review-kathy-diamond-el-diablos-4th.html

Live: Electrelane (Manchester Club Academy, 7.5.07.)

Electrelane, so good on record, had passed me by as a live act in the past. Until recently, I can't ever remember expressing any desire to see them in concert, even though I've been a passive admirer of theirs since early this century, upon hearing 'I Only Always Think' at university. I guess there's just something about their music that screams "home listening only" to me, but I just never really entertained the notion that they would be able to cut it live. Was I right?

Well, partly. Tonight, Electrelane, touring in support of what I think is their best album to date, the luminescent kraut-pop of No Shouts, No Calls, take a little time to get going. This sees set opener, 'Bells', from 2005's Axes and, more disappointingly, 'The Greater Times' fall a little flat. They don't hit top gear until a menacing, borderline furious 'Eight Steps' around four or five songs in, but after that, they succeed in building a tangible level of mood and atmosphere that even the dodgy Club Academy sound system can't ruin.

The band are clearly enjoying playing the punchier, more direct new songs, like the jagged instrumental 'Between The Wolf And The Dog' and the sweet, Gallic-tinged pop of new single, 'To The East', but it's also allowed them to breathe a bit of focus into the older material that gets aired, with 'Blue Straggler' being particularly impressive. Despite the fact that it took a while to light a fire under them (chalk that one up to it being the first night of the tour), Electrelane ultimately proved themselves as a band with very little left to prove to anyone and obviously relishing this position.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2633&band=1657

Live: Black Lips (The Roadhouse, Manchester, 29.4.07.)

Every once in a while, you see a gig that reaffirms your faith in rock 'n' roll and realigns dwindling expectations in the old bass-guitar-drums set-up. One that sets the bar up a notch again, back to what it once was. A gig that for 24 hours after feels like the best gig you've ever seen. Black Lips at the Roadhouse was one of those gigs.

Not that this was the best thing I'd ever seen on stage, but it threw into stark relief just how boring and stultifying most rock bands are live. Black Lips have been steadily cementing their status as a fierce, unpredictable live act for the past three years or so, with tales of inter-band kissing, members urinating into their own mouths and hardcore nudity. This kind of stuff is all sideshow though and it's the sheer garage punk thrill of seeing bands play loud, fast, infectious tunes that they've mastered. All the gross-out tricks in the world could neither add nor subtract from that.

We get lead guitarist Cole swapping spit with rhythm guitarist Ian, which is something you don't always see. What you see even less of these days though is a band as thrilling as Black Lips. There's an epiphany moment during the rocketing 'M.I.A.' when you look at all four members trading off on vocals, playing as hard and as rapidly as they can (Drummer, Joe, in particular looks like some fevered hybrid of Animal from The Muppets and an octopus) and you can't help but think “I love this band”, or even, “I want to be in this band”. Isn't that what rock 'n' roll is all about? They don't reinvent the wheel, but they've stuck some pretty bitching spokes on it.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2605&band=1728

Live: Pop Levi (Manchester Academy 3, 25.4.07.)

There are a lot of things that I’d like to say about Pop Levi. One of those things would be that he’s a shiny, flamboyant beacon in an increasingly beige British music scene. Another would be that he’s some kind of perverted saviour of pop; the offspring of a tryst involving Marc Bolan, Prince and Arthur Brown at Woodstock in ’69. I’d also like to say that he’s one of the best live acts around and more fun than a barrelful of chimpanzees on LSD.

I’d like to say these things, but I can’t. I can’t say them because they’re not true. There’s something just so lightning-in-a-bottle brilliant about Pop Levi that never really makes itself known. The idea of Pop Levi is a lot more appealing than the execution. That’s not to say that he doesn’t have some great tunes, he does – his debut album, The Return To Form Black Magick Party is one of the year-thus-far’s most pleasantly surprising debuts, all sparkly pop and reinvigorated vintage riffing – but all that is made redundant by a couple of fatal flaws in Pop Levi’s multi-coloured façade.

First up, the complete lack of sincerity is totally off-putting. I’m not a subscriber to the idea that pop music has to be sincere or meaningful to be great, but the artist has to believe in it for it to carry weight. Pop Levi substitutes conviction for studied, well-worn rock poses and gimmicks. Everything that the guy does has been pilfered from music’s past. He does the Angus Young bent-double head shake around five times too many for it to be considered mere homage. He also stares down the girls in the front row, lasciviously, like every rocker with a raging libido since the fifties has. All the shapes that Levi throws just come off as clowning, thus undoing the good work done by his songs.

Another flaw is that he’s way too sure of himself to be likeable. I like a pop star with a bit of arrogance but Pop Levi just takes the biscuit. He’s playing a room the size of a shoebox, yet he thinks he’s onstage at Wembley, pyrotechnics and dancing girls flanking him. This is an ultimately alienating move on his part. We like our stars to be on a pedestal, but not one that they’ve built for themselves. Even the most seemingly unapproachable talent like Morrissey has an affinity with his fans to the point that he’s constantly touching hands with the front row at gigs and throwing his shirts into the crowd for the sweaty, be-quiffed hordes to fight over like dogs after a bone. Pop Levi’s over-inflated opinion of himself creates a distance between audience and artist that seems unassailable due to his complete lack of self-awareness. You don’t get to be a star just because you decide it, you are anointed by the public and, car advert soundtrack aside, what would the average man on the street know about him if pressed?

Lastly, for all the sweat that pours from his face, there’s no real effort been put into making the songs that jump out of the speakers in technicolour on the album work in a live setting. Stretching out the intro to opening gambit, ‘Sugar Assault Me Now’ to an interminable length (it was probably about five minutes, but it felt like five hours) might have seemed like a good idea in the rehearsal room as an exercise in heightening anticipation, therefore making the eventual release all the more emphatic. In actuality, it just bores and infuriates, ultimately flattening what should have been a knockout blow. Also, ‘(A Style Called) Cryin’ Chic’, so oddly exotic and evocatively patchouli-stained on record, like some previously unearthed Donovan masterpiece, is put asunder by a weary, passionless delivery.

There are good points though that point to Pop Levi maybe learning from his missteps in the future. ‘Blue Honey’, even without the handclaps that give the song that added something on the album, is a delight and one of the few songs that live up to its recorded counterpoint. Also, set closer, ‘Dollar Bill Rock’ is transformed into a restless, itchy wig-out that’s worthy of Levi’s influences.

It’s just not enough though and the calculated lecherousness just comes off as creepy most of the time. If he ever comes down off the ego trip he’s on, then he just might have a shot at attaining the status he thinks he already has. He’s got the tunes after all.

http://www.rachaelburns.net/html/music/2007/04/gig-review-pop-levi-mancheser-academy-3.html

Live: The Pipettes (Manchester Academy 2, 17.4.07.)

The Pipettes' girl group schtick saw them gain just as many admirers as detractors when they emerged into the limelight last year. For every polka dotted admirer, there was a disparager saying they weren't 'real' enough or that they couldn't sing.

The defamers miss the point, as there was nothing authentic about the prefabricated groups from which they crib. Phil Spector went to the Brill Building for his songs and lead Shangri-La, Mary Weiss wasn't all that hot a singer. The emphasis with this music is on melody and catchiness and you can't fault The Pipettes when it comes to these pop cornerstones.

The big question with tonight's gig is whether the bubblegum has turned stale. Despite what story the sparse crowd tells, it hasn't. Tonight, The Pipettes come over less arch and studied than before. The choreographed dance moves now come much easier and while you still wouldn't back any of them to get through the auditions for The X-Factor, the everyday quality of their voices are a perfect fit for their universally infectious tunes.

The gig is a great reminder of just how good those tunes are. 'Pull Shapes' and 'Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me' rank among the best pop tunes of the last five years and the new ones they air are just as effortlessly breezy and joyous. The more well-oiled a machine The Pipettes become, the closer they are to achieving the heights of the bands they venerate.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2561&band=856