Hoorah! Gig reviews follow....
Friday, 2nd June 2006 - Cresent / Vashti Bunyan / Max Richter
At St. George's, which used to be a church and still has a wonderful aura to it, and a great sound (something that's missing from a lot of Bristol venues). I think it's used mainly for classical concerts. <a href="http://www.philharmonia.co.uk/_gfx/770-2D0C11.JPG" target="_blank">Take a look, it's lovely.</a>
First up were local band Crescent. They sounded like a jazzy, slo-mo version of The Microphones or perhaps The Field Mice, but with some nice sound experimentation, some loops and that going on. Hard to recommend them really, but they weren't annoying or intrusive, so that was fine.
Not a huge attendance at this time, but then Vashti Bunyan came on, and suddenly everyone was there, it was quite obvious who they'd come to see. She spilt the set pretty much equally between her two albums, the classic 'Just Another Diamond Day', and last year's comeback 'Lookaftering', but to her credit the newer songs stood their ground in this context and really benefitted from the live arrangement - a five piece band of violin, cello, piano, flute and guitar. The only thing that annoyed me was that she played her most well-known song twice - as though she felt she had to pander to her audience. In truth there was no need for it, she had the audience under complete control for the entire duration.
Finally, Max Richter, and one of the strangest things I have ever seen at a gig. As he began setting up his equipment (piano, laptop, violin, cello), people slowly began leaving the hall. I assumed perhaps they were going for an ice cream or something, but no - by the time he'd started, half the crowd had left. Now it's fair to say that Richter isn't the most dynamic of performers, and so the remaining punters weren't exactly persuaded by what they saw....by the end of the first song, the crowd had halved again. We left about half an hour in, by which time it had become quite hard to differentiate between the songs, which proved quite embarrassing when only one person clapped after the end of a song. I do like his music, but it's just to slow-moving to work in a live setting.
In short, a good gig, but the organisers really mucked up with the ordering, and I ended up feeling very sorry for Max Richter - I'm assuming that he finished his performance to be greeted by an empty venue.
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Sunday, 4th June 2006 - Lots of people, including the legendary Euros Childs
At a rather different venue this one, another old church, but this one in a rather rougher area, and with a much more casual atmosphere. Intended as a finale to a weekend festival here, so there were quite a few acts, starting with North Sea Navigator, playing to approximately eight people, who were all sat at the back of the hall, leaving a danefloor's length between the band and the crowd. Needless to say this prevented any sort of atmosphere, something that was still slightly problematic when Euros Childs took to the stage. A maximum of fifty people seemed to be rooted to the floor, which was a shame, 'cause it was a great set (not that I ever truly attempt to dance at gigs, but I expect other people to do that for me). His band is good and sounds like the Beach Boys, but it's still a shame about Gorky's.
Anywayz, Euros Childs is finished, and all of a sudden we hear a man singing; it's a spirtual song, and he's clapping and weaving his way through the audience. We assume he is a random drunk, albeit with a damn good voice. But he finishes singing and he takes a seat at the side of the hall, where a microphone and guitar are waiting for him. There followed the most intense performance I have ever seen in my life. Announcing: "This is a song about a dead dog", he launched into an incredibly raw song with just a battered old guitar, and vocals that could fairly be described as a cross between Thom Yorke and Jeff Mangum. In other words, very emotional. It was affecting, but also very very painful to watch, as he howled and yelled his way through four or five songs, including a call-and-response spiritual during which he meandered round the audience and made a rather disturbing amount of eye contact. Upon finishing, he sprinted the length of the hall, screaming his lungs out, and collapsed onto the piano, earning the biggest applause of the night.
In fact, just recalling it, it seems a bit stupid to even mention the rest of the acts. But, next were the Mitchell Brothers, a cockney hip-hop duo who weren't the best rappers ever, but had a nice sort of pantomime banter that saved them from being judged too much on artistic merit. Then a bizzarre duet on the side stage, a saxophonist and drummer playing the strangest free-jazz I have ever heard. The saxaphonist seemed to be having a "how many horrid noises can I make with my instrument?" competition, and by the audience reaction, I'd guess that he was winning. But the drummer was really astounding, I can't express his technique in words, only to say that he was literally a blur, and that the songs sounded like ten minutes of sped-up drum solos, with someone being murdered in the background.
Headliner was Toby Allen, who was apparently once Fela Kuti's drummer, and after the previous acts his band seemed like an anti-climax - the songs were too stretched out, and just not tight enough for a funk band, and an audience that by now was ready to dance. I mean, it was okay, but didn't to match the enthusiasm of everyone previous. Ah well, it was a good walk home, I didn't get mugged once, and if I'd been offered to buy weed before I was asked to sell some, I could've made a tidy profit.