Several shows this year, and those here of which I'm commenting on as they fall neatly into the Good, Bad, and the Ugly, or should that be the Good, the Weak and Forgettable as I was disappointed by artists I’ve seen perform better before. Gigs mostly took place in Glasgow that inexplicably far off distant land that can take up to five or six hours round trip by bus, coach, and nightbus – apparently Glasgow is a mere 51 miles away from my home door as the googlemap crow flies, oh yeah? And pigs are flying also...
Most recently it was Moon Duo at Broadcast on 12th November and I’m being generous to my favourite band by blaming a weak show on the venue. Moon Duo usually work well in a small space, however there was a noticeably low ceiling above the performers which may have affected the sonic impact - just 18 inches over the head of Ripley Johnson the guitarist/vocalist, even the abstract visuals projected over the band were unable to fit the stage - two numbers in and the call went out from the audience “we can’t hear you singing”, neither we could and I was right at the front. Try as Ripley did to Up the level it didn’t much improve from then on, maybe the tiny pixies that live in Ripley’s beard ran out of magic sprinkle dust during rehearsals? Also I began to seriously doubt if the band’s other half the funky organ mistress Sanae Yamada was actually playing her instrument, her intense head-down-hands-rocking away at keyboard stance was missing, nor was she getting lost into the groove as she usually does with her hair obscuring her face in the manner of that creepy Japanese horror movie The Ring, well, the ring sure weren’t on fire that night (at least I hope that’s the correct random thought to insert here). Ripley Johnson playing live has never let me down before, but this wasn’t the gig to take any doubters along to, I’d have been given that eyes raised shoulder shrug ‘what’s all the fuss been about’ and struggled to defend my love for the music. Sadly this very same let-down applies ten-fold to Claire Boucher’s Grimes gig which I saw in the summer, a grimy sordid affair, but more on that one later...
Back in January 14th I saw A Winged Victory For The Sullen in the catacombs of the Oran Mor - a church that’s now a drinking and music venue and should have made for an atmospheric show but I couldn’t completely enjoy it as someone had either forgot or saw no need to put on the heating in the depths where the gig was, this was in the midst of a freezing winter. To compound the inconvenience it was also an open table and chairs affair taking up two thirds of the floor space, a large crowd in attendance meant that if you left your seat then chances are it was gone thus leaving you standing at the back with a poor view. The audience had to endure a very cold two and a half hour wait till the main act, drinking a chilled pint was a miserable experience. The musicians arrived dressed in heavy jumpers telling us they didn’t want to come out as it was lovely and warm in the dressing room, after the first number they apologised for the sound, explaining that the cold had affected their string instruments - a cello and violin that had been waiting onstage beforehand. Despite the bollocks chilling temperature the music was truly beautiful, the entirety of the self-titled debut album was played in order and the sad but uplifting music was surprisingly much more humanly warmer when played live, more so even than it is when listened to on the album.
Also in January, at the Arches on the 19th I saw M83, one of two artists I was hopeful for this year, Grimes (miss Clare Boucher) was the other one. Anthony Gonzalez’s M83 exceeded my expectations with the best show of the year musically and emotionally in spite of Anthony’s poor singing (he’s an average singer), he had me thinking that M83’s critics were justified but an explanation was given when he apologised for his inability to hit the high notes due to a sore throat. He and the band also commented on the rain we’d had that day, ha, those sunny California-based musicians make me laugh, don’t they know we Northerners live under a grey cloud year round. Highlights of the gig were undoubtedly all of the Hurry Up We’re Dreaming album, with some material from Saturdays = Youth blending in seamlessly, most notably the electro-rave juggernaut Couleurs had me (easily the oldest person there) jumping up into the air like a spring bunny alongside the 20-somethings and the generous sprinkling of 30-something bearded blokes (the type who hang round indie record stores with satchels over their shoulders). Some youngsters had rather sweetly dressed like extras from the cover of Saturdays = Youth, in their ‘Desperately Seeking Susan’ attire and big cute winter hats with animal ears, I really should have made the effort also.
28th August, and my only Edinburgh gig. At the Liquid Rooms Grimes seemed to have abandoned her solo DIY ethic on tour and had a band of sorts - a bald guy attempting cool in oversized shades on synth-drum - he seemed to contribute little. Also, I got that feeling of ‘is the music barely live, or is it all Memorex?’ Grimes often stood away from her keyboard/effects and focused more on singing out to the audience, maybe the new record label’s told her to connect more. Recalling how I saw her perform before, whirlwind hair and arms everywhere twiddling her knobs and flicking her presets in a mad frenzy, it was all but gone for this gig, thus also was the glorious impact of her distinctive style. I sort of enjoyed the music, but it wasn’t a patch on hearing it at home, I seriously thought about leaving early. One of the most anticipated gigs became the most disappointing, rapidly forgotten, then memorable for wrong reasons, but I could be alone in this appraisal as the packed house of a very wide age range and seemingly 50% female (Grimes has so many female fans these days) were loving it, mind you, when I placed myself beside the exit during the encore there were a lot of punters at the back stood by the bar seemingly not bothered. I’d had enough by then and wanted a speedy exit having spent the entire show being crushed down at the front, ‘never before in the history of this man’s kind at a gig have I had so many young women’s body parts constantly shoved into my person’, elbows and breast’s nudged into my back and under my chin, really, I go for the music, not the Ibiza Club 18-30 orgy, BBC radio roadshow jock’s would’ve been in paradise here, worse still, the women were all singing along to the songs, I’d unwittingly infiltrated a girls night out!
Two contrasting images sum up my year of gigs, the first from M83’s show which began mysteriously, dark empty stage, some vertical stick-like light’s arranged in a semi-circle starting to glow as a masked cloaked figure walks purposely out to stage edge, gazing silently at the audience for a minute or so before departing quietly. This figure was the strange-looking owl-Alien from Hurry Up We’re Dreaming’s album concept art, creating a brief but effective show starter that left a feeling of curiosity and anticipation hanging in the air. With the Grimes gig on the other hand, after a few songs in I suddenly realized that a guy had been onstage the whole time crouched down in the dark near to her when without warning he slowly stood up and began the lamest dancing. Revealing himself to be a lanky longhaired blond guy dressed in black it was an incongruous WTF moment. He continued his naff moves throughout several songs threatening only to detract and undermine the show as I willed myself to ignore his presence. Grimes must have owed this mystery dancing man big time for something or the other, either that or she was oblivious to him and he’d sneaked on for a dare.
