Wilko Johnson

– THE RITZ, MANCHESTER –

“Man, there’s nothing like being told you’re dying to make you feel alive”. Wilko Johnson did mean those words in a recent interview, and we have some irrefutable evidence of this tonight.

The gig of his Still Kickin’ tour is short but pretty intense (it barely takes an hour and 15 minutes), like life itself.

67-year-old Wilko Johnson seems more alive and kickin’ than ever. No one would say that the man on the stage, moving furiously and playing fast, has recently undergone the nightmare of a pancreatic cancer. In Julian Temple’s new documentary The Ecstasy of Wilko Johnson, he tells this painful as well as meaningful episode of his life. And also talks about the great feeling of being alive. And kicking.

Histrionic and powerful as usual –not to mention its characteristic Tommy gun guitar and duck-walking dance-, he gives Manchester’s Ritz a flawless lesson of vital rock n’ roll, the kind of rock that is capable of beating even a cancer.

Accompanied by drummer Dylan Howe and bassist Norman Watt-Roy –who I must admit that vaguely reminds me of Breaking Bad character Don Hector “Tio” Salamanca, out of control, ex-Dr. Feelgood Wilko Johnson delights the crowd with epic smash hits such as Going Back Home, Back In The Night, She Does It Right or Roxette.

After an electrifying warm-up including Dr. Feelgood era’s classics Sneakin’ Suspicious, Paradise and the above mentioned Going Back Home, Wilko’s mastery and charisma on the stage quickly gets the audience eating out of his hand (and of course, of his Tommy gun guitar). In the second half hour of the gig, he lets the instrumental part take centre stage.

By the time Roxette’s catchy riff sounds, the crowd (I would say that the average age was between 50 and 60 years old) goes crazy. Back to the future of the golden 70’s, I guess. The floor starts to tremble. A nice shake about 7.0 magnitude in Rock n Roll’s Scale.

From the fresh starting All Through The City to the second final encore Route 66, Wilko Johnson Band is in an enviable good shape.

At the end of this lively evening, during his astonishing performance of Bye Bye Johnny, a graceful and grateful Wilko even shows off a bit playing his old guitar behind his back.

Just like a new born child.

Wilko definitely keeps music alive… and so does music for him, certainly.

Encore corner:

Special mention to Wilko Johnson’s support band on this tour, Eight Rounds Rapid, whose guitarist Simon is Wilko’s son. They enter the stage in black suits, and they look like yuppies performing some kind of weird and hip after work. Singer David Alexander looks like Edward Norton in his Fight Club film’s role. He sings loud and fast but at the same time seems disturbingly restrained, except from a couple of Ian-Curtis-like spasms. Is he turning into Tyler Durden yet?

Every now and then, he exits the stage and stares at the fight between the guitarist and the bassist. Just like Tyler Durden, in the dark, but his tie still is in its perfect place. After a while, he reappears with the same discretion with which he disappeared… or may be is it pre-meditated indifference?

Anyway, this yuppie-like band could perfectly set a proper soundtrack for Generation X’s nonsense life. A good sample of good punk-rock, after all.

Wilko Johnson Official | Facebook | Twitter

Duke Garwood

– THE DEAF INSTITUTE, MANCHESTER –

Sometimes, the choices you take by pure chance really do you well. Duke Garwood gives us an evening of seminal intimacy and peace of mind at Manchester’s Deaf Institute. In fact, this venue seems perfectly suited for him. To be honest, I end up here only because I didn’t manage to get tickets for Seasick Steve, who’s performing at the very same time at another venue in Manchester. No worries, Duke Garwood is such a worthwhile and equally qualified alternative for this Saturday night. Seasick Steve himself speaks like this of the London-based songwriter and multi-instrumentalist: “Garwood is the most soul-acious soul man I know”.

The audience’s average age is about 40-50 years old, apart from several younger exceptions. Before the gig starts, Garwood makes a couple of trips from the backstage to the smoking terrace, through the stage. And I do confirm: his mysterious and intense aura does not belong to the clichéd rock n’ roll system.

The evening starts with his colleague and member of his crew San Moritzz’s experimental unique piece. Moritzz enters the stage with such a casual appearance (T-shirt, jeans and a Texan-trucker-like cap) that makes me think he’s a technician at first. But as soon as he starts experimenting with weird sounds on the keyboard, carefully distorted with multiple synthesizers, I realise how wrong I was with my unconscious (bloody) prejudice.

He smoothly takes us to a progressive fog. At this point, my question is: will these misty sounds clear or will they drift into a darker atmosphere? I overhear someone in the audience saying that a couple of joints would help him “better understand” Moritzz’s music. Well, maybe it’s not a legal drug (yet), but the tones of an overly sweet fragrance that wears a woman sitting next to me clearly has an effect on my judgement, so please bear this in mind when reading the following lines.

His one single piece, about 20-25 minutes long, sounds gently chaotic. I can easily imagine a psychedelic road trip, but I can’t specify if it’s a daytime or night-time driving. Blame the sticky perfume overdose…

The whole room gets dark except for the lights coming from the bar’s fridges. Garwood starts his performance with British punctuality, at 20:45. He is accompanied by Paul V May on drums, John J Presley on guitar and Patrick Dawes on percussion. After a promising opener and the song that gives name to his latest album (Heavy Love, 2015), the audience is already prepared to go deep into the desert that it is said Garwood draws with his whispering-penetrating voice and the roughness of his naked guitar.

Dark blues sandstorms are foreseen.

Garwood seems so humble on the stage. All his soul is on the guitar, suited to his deep voice, remarkably redolent of Mark Lanegan’s at many times. Two years ago, they both released their first studio collaboration, Black Pudding, a painkiller gem of stone for the soul. Here’s another fun fact: did you know that the outstanding song I Am The Wolf, included in Mark Lanegan’s Phantom Radio album, is written by Garwood himself?

Duke Garwood

Back to the gig, Garwood and his band just need three songs to get audience’s “wooow!” in unison. It happens with Disco Lights, from his Heavy Love new album as well. In spite of some too grating sounds that break this darkly sweet harmony, Garwood’s performance is simply brilliant.

As they play some older songs –Rank Panache from Dreamboatsafari album and I Can Wait from Emerald Palace, the faint lights on the stage turn subtly green. Have we reached an oasis in the desert yet?

His band remains even more discreet than Garwood himself. “Drummer poet” Paul May always looking to his right; a silent and downcast John J Presley and an almost hidden behind his shiny kettledrums Patrick Dawes. They only leave Garwood completely alone in the dark with his guitar in the dreamy Sweet Wine. The silence in the room, only broken by the badly-timed sound of a beer can when it’s opened, is overwhelming. Totally mind-blowing.

The lights are now cabaret-like red, and Garwood shows his arachnid guitar technique, as his right hand caresses the guitar furiously and softly at the same time. “I’ve got particular fingers”, he admits in an interview with The Quietus(*). “I like to keep the sound going. I like my notes to keep ringing, for as long as I can keep them ringing”, he adds.

He alternately goes from the past (The Sand That Falls, 2009) to the very present (Heavy Love, 2015) performing May I Rumble, Honey In The Ear, Ho Diddi and Suppertime In Hell. After an oasis of peace, an electrical storm explodes with Sometimes. “Sometimes… we are free”. Peak and bravo.

He chooses After Rise a Woman for the encore. The spiritual walk comes to an end with blue lights and Burning Seas, also from his latest album.

“If you’re going to put your boat out on the ocean, make sure there are no holes in it”, Garwood’s dixit*. His music has no holes at all, definitely.

Duke Garwood  Official | Facebook | Twitter | Youtube

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=FrcCGjIX6Zo

Screaming Females

– THE ROADHOUSE, MANCHESTER –

This is a common Tuesday night. But this is also that kind of night in which you can have just a couple of beers so as to get away from the everyday paraphernalia or experience an inspirational eye-opener and realise that you should really follow your dreams. Let’s bet for the second option.

One goes into the Roadhouse, whose doors will close by the end of May (such a pity!) and feels like being  in a mausoleum. Few people surround the bar, the basement is so dark that we seem chatty vampires refusing the daylight. “I don’t wanna holiday in the sun…”.

It’s 22.00 and there’s no risk of sun anymore. Screaming Females make clear that they’ve got guts and talent to spare from the very first riff. They open the gig with ‘Rotten Apple’. Originated in New Brunswick, New Jersey, this band has a certain Scooby Doo look. It is formed by Marissa Paternoster on guitar and vocals; Jarrett Dougherty on drums, and King Mike on bass. They have supported bands such as Arctic Monkeys, The Dead Weather and Dinosaur Jr., among others. It is worth mentioning their cover of Because The Night along with Garbage.

Without giving a chance to take a breath, they perform’ Starve The Beat’ and ‘Wild’, which fuels audience’s craving for a good basement show. In fact, Screaming Females has grown with the DIY spirit, as they are their own managers and have recorded and released some albums all by themselves. Having studied Fine Arts, Paternoster has also designed the sleeves. She may never have had a guitar lesson, but thanks to her DIY spirit perhaps, Paternoster figures among the 100 greatest guitarist of all time according to Spin magazine.

After going Wild, it is quite surprising to hear how shyly she greets the audience, with such a daddy’s little girl-like soft voice. “…We’re from New Jersey”, she almost whispers, with half of her face hidden behind an endless fringe. She doesn’t seem the same girl that just a few seconds ago was ripping both her voice and guitar (as well as spitting lavishly, if I must say).

With Ripe they jump to their latest album, Rose Mountain (2015), and they continue with the songs included in this work, ‘Empty Head’ and ‘Broken Neck’. All of them seem to me clear messages to escape from the tedious routine and follow one’s own path, whatever this would be.

They rewind to previous albums with the tunes ‘Crow’s Nest’ and ‘Bell’, and introduce the audience into a smooth garage trance.

The performance of ‘Wishing Well’ is jaw dropping. At this point, it doesn’t really matter how will you look like tomorrow at work, the only important thing is that you’re alive today, right here, right now.

The gig finishes with ‘Criminal Image’ in such an abrupt way -“We have our albums on sale at the bar”… and fade to black- that leaves us wanting more. Actually, they have been playing just for 45 minutes, to be exact. Well, fair enough for a suspiciously warm Tuesday…

 Screaming Females  Official | Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIL6QUYoUes

Wire

– ACADEMY 3, MANCHESTER –

Wire is a one-way journey, as singer and guitarist Colin Newman says. A deep, disturbing, not necessarily pleasant but always unique and meaningful one. As soon as the band enters the stage at Manchester Academy 3, the atmosphere gets thicker and they take the audience deep into a frenetic hypnosis. The first opening song is ‘Blogging’ –gorgeous lyrics, by the way: “Blogging like Jesus/Tweet like a Pope/Site traffic heavy/I’m YouTubing hope”-; followed by ‘Joust and Jostle’, both from Wire’s latest homonymous album.

The iPad that Newman has next to him, as if it was a second mic, attracts my attention –not to mention his classy range of guitars; it seems he uses the device to keep track of the lyrics. By the time they play the third song, ‘Silk Skin Pawns’, I realise that it is not fair to say they’re still fit: they’re in a continuous state of grace.

That could explain the seriousness of their faces. They’re so focused on their music, they look confident and confortable enough not to need to please the audience nor the mass. It is so honest of them; that is precisely what makes the difference and honours them.

There is a good crowd tonight, most of them belong to the ‘Pink Flag’ generation, I dare to say. I look around and notice the audience is as focused on the music storm as are Colin Newman, Graham Lewis, Robert Grey and Matthew Simms. With the ‘vintage’ song ‘Drill’ comes the ecstasy. It is particularly noteworthy the moment in which all the members of the band play eyes-closed while ‘High’ brings a gently twisted, fleeting harmony shortly afterwards.

It may be so obvious and predictable to play ‘In Manchester’ new song for such a ‘never-what-you’d-expected’ kind of band, but they actually do. It is said that is not a hymn to the city, but it could be so, as it perfectly suits Manchester’s vibe and charisma.

After this sweet moment of redemption, we turn into silent zombies with ‘Sleep-Walking’. Everything turns darker, but it’s a strangely cosy darkness. Funny contradiction! The ground trembles under my feet, my mind spreads. Guitarist Matthew Simms creates a phantasmagorical atmosphere down on his multiple synthesizers, screaming tales storm into scene. Funnily enough (or maybe not) one word comes to my mind: coherence. They ask for “one more chance” in the surrounding ‘Shifting’, and explode their latent punk-rage in ‘Stealth of a Stork’, “Change!”, shouts Newman.

‘Split Your Ends’ and ‘Octopus’ are sparkling dark as well, but it’s when they start playing the ‘old’ ‘Blessed State’, from ‘154’ album, they get a brief and perhaps nostalgic ‘wow!’ from the audience. ‘Swallow’ triggers an electrical storm, while ‘Harpooned’ reaches a distorted nirvana; even Colin Newman himself suddenly stops singing and playing the guitar to adopt a catatonic state, hands (and mind, I guess) free.

They leave for the encore a trace of the origins, ‘Brazil’, from ‘Pink Flag’. Barely a half minute length is “enough” for that song, as Newman tells us ironically. One of the most magic moments of the night comes with ‘Adore Your Island’, because is only when they see how Simms has gone completely crazy on guitar that Newman and Grey -finally!- give a hint of a smile.

Red lights on the stage predict the final credits of this overwhelming performance, and Wire says its particular goodbye with ‘Used to’, another ‘old one’ (who said they didn’t play old songs?). Newman unplugs his iPad. This is the end. “New Apple’s divine/Dream time destruction/Outback becomes mine” (from ‘Blogging’ lyrics).

Wire  Official | Facebook | Twitter

Mudhoney

– THE RITZ, MANCHESTER –

It is said that the good wines age well, and one could say just the same about Mudhoney. They practically look like the same guys of 20 years ago. Like Dorian Gray, but without the burden of selling out their souls. They’re not Chardonnay. Not at all.

Their insanely invigorating gig at Manchester’s Ritz shows how healthy a mud bath can be from time to time. The real godfathers of grunge enter the stage punctual and greet the crowd nicely (“Good evening ladies and gentleman…”). The audience shakes and the floor trembles from the very first song, ‘Suck You Dry'; then they get ‘Into The Drink’ and shout out ‘I Like It Small’, in a powerful military-punk parade. The tearing distortion it’s not just on Steve Turner and Mark Arm’s guitars, but also on this one’s rough voice, full of gorgeous growls and soothing rips. After such an energetic opening, mud gets thicker with ‘Broken Hands’. (Off the record thought: God, we have talked so much about Nirvana and all the massively known grunge bands…)

With ‘Poisoned Water’ and ‘Get Into Yours’, the Seattle born and bred band seduces an already loose audience. Old school and younger generations go mad on the mosh-pit. “Get me out / Let me in/ I’m losing myself again!!…)” This catchy chorus seems written by some naughty schoolboys, maybe the same ones who long time ago started a joke-band called Mr.Epp.

Mark Arm greets an obscure ‘Sonic Infusion’ with a stunningly synthesized “Wow!” and goes deep into the decadence of the underground in ‘Beneath The Valley of The Underdog’. Without any sign of ceasefire, an electrifying wave of raw punk comes with ‘FDK’. The mosh-pit extends its range and… Are there even some piercing groupies on the floor?

After performing 100% muddy hits such as ‘Flat Out Fucked’, ‘Sweet Young Thing Ain’t No Sweet More’, ‘JRRT’ and ‘No One Has’, it’s easy to understand the meaning of Mudhoney, as they display a perfect combination of the guts of punk and the filth of grunge. After all, knowing how to dance in the mud or levitate upon quicksand it can be quite advantageous, as well as great fun.

Arm, Turner and bassist Guy Maddison line up and sync with drummer Dan Peters. Suddenly and fortunately, they perform their massive hit and the crowd shouts fiercely its mantra all at once: “Touch-Me-I’m-Sick!!!”.

As soon as Arm starts singing guitar free, he turns into a contortionist showman who furiously performs ‘I’m Now’, ‘The Final Course’, ‘Asshole’, ‘Hate The Policemen’ and ‘The Only Child of the Widow From Nain.’

After this dirty walkabout, the band briefly exits the stage, leaving the audience breathless, asking for more. And of course, there is more. Mudhoney reappears and Mark Arm toast with his beloved wine, just to dedicate a song to the only type of wine he hates: Chardonnay. They reward an out of control crowd with a few more songs including ‘Who You Drivin’ Now?’ A couple of fans try a reverse stage diving.

“Maybe we are iconic to a small group of people”, answered with irony Mark Arm in an interview with Omnibus Press, when he was asked why Mudhoney hasn’t become more popular (not even in the underground scene). Well, shame on all those who once introduced the protoMudhoney Mr.Epp band as “the worst one in the world”. Shame (and mud) on you.

Mudhoney  Official | Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnB7zNrnRqk

Maika Makovski

– INSTITUTO CERVANTES, MANCHESTER –

Spanish singer, songwriter, musician and actress (yes, all that!) Maika Makovski connects with the audience as soon as she enters the cosy stage at Manchester’s Instituto Cervantes, accompanied by the so young and talented band from the prestigious Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts (LIPA). They are Kristine Humerfelt (backing vocals), Vanessa Murray (bass), Silvan Rupp (keys), Elliott Holland (sax), Greg Joy (drums) and Jiwon Chung (guitar).

The title of the opening song ‘Vulnerable’ is totally misleading, judging by the confidence and outgoing energy she shows on the stage. She twists and turns like a nervous snake, now on the keyboard, now on the guitar… There’s a sense of an about-to-explode volcano in the air. But no one’s panicking, everybody seems relaxed in this improvised jazz-club-like venue.

Makovski uses the lapses between the songs to teach some Spanish to the mostly English audience. When she asks if anybody hasn’t understood her Spanish speech, some of the members of her band rise their hands, jokingly. She tells them “It’s about time to start learning Spanish”, as they’ll be touring in Madrid, Barcelona, Zaragoza and Tarragona this summer due to LIPA’s Spain Tours’ project with Spanish Agency AIE. As Makovski proudly announces, they’ve been rehearsing just for four days, and to be honest, they sound frankly well, full of knowing looks, smiles and good music.

She abruptly interrupts ‘Friends’ just to introduce properly saxophonist Elliot Holland, who greets the audience with hidden shyness. “So I was saying…”, she continues with this indie-pop tune. ‘No News’ take her to the keyboard again, she jumps as she plays and there’s no doubt she’s having so much fun that infects the audience with her enthusiasm.

The good atmosphere blurs for a while with the soothing ‘When The Dust Clears’, singing along with the outstanding singer Kristine Humerfelt. They get a big “wow!” from the audience.

The electronic sounds of ‘Number’ give a disturbing touch to the evening but she swiftly starts dancing on the stage with ‘Body’, which vaguely reminds me of ‘Roxette’s catchy riff by Dr. Feelgood. The energy (or the poison of rock n’ roll, if you want) goes beyond her body (in honour to the song, perhaps), as she goes into electrifying spasms.

In the touching ‘Avoiding You’ Makovski sheds her skin again, drawing with her voice a rainy, gloomy evening; but even this melancholy sounds nice. The sax’s call adds a jazzy vibe. Thus, close and gently, the storm within her soul finally unleashes. Next she sets a big fire in ‘The Gate’, so, the volcano has already erupted. With ‘Iron Bells’ she simply goes mad.

Makovski keeps a surprise for the end of the show. ‘Men of Talent’, it’s called the song. “And we have never played it before”, she reveals, after introducing the band (including the sound technician) and asking for a warm applause to all of them.

They leave for the encore ‘Song of Distance’ (this time just Makovski and her acoustic guitar), ‘Lava Love’, ‘No Blood’ and ‘Language’.

Maika and the LIPA band sound flawless, maybe one could have thanked some kind of improvisation at the height of these songs… Anyway, did I mention they have been rehearsing for four days?

Maika Makovski is full of influences and listening to her is like a galvanizing journey through decades of (good) music. Take PJ Harvey. Take The Kills’ Alison Mosshart. Take The Last Internationale’s Delila Paz. Now forget all of them. She’s unique.

Maika Makovski  Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=meLkBz9uWXk

“Sometimes, having total freedom for your project can be the biggest prison”

The multitalented Spanish artist performed her latest album ‘Thank you for the boots’ at Manchester’s Instituto Cervantes on Saturday 30^th May

Maika Makovski

She will record a new album on September, along with producer John Parish Amaia Santana

The multitalented singer, composer and actress performed her latest studio album, Thank you for the boots, amongst other surprises that will amaze indie-rock fans. The gig took place at Manchester’s Instituto Cervantes on Saturday 30^th May (doors opening at 18:30). Students at LIPA Olivia Gold and Ian Janco supported Makovski’s performance.

After several visits to London and some other British towns like Bath and Kent, this is the first time that Maika Makovski and her band have performed in Manchester; “A few years ago we talked about getting involved in LIPA Spain Tours but we couldn’t make it due to dates; yet, this is such a special project that we kept trying and fortunately, now it’s possible!”, Makovski says cheerfully. She also unveils her strategy to please the English audience: “I’ll do my best, which I always do”, she claims.

Makovski is now working on a play by Carme Portacelli, whose first night is scheduled on next October at National Theatre of Catalunya. “Composing music for theatre is far more different than recording a studio album, but it’s also much more rewarding. Sometimes, having total freedom for your own project can be the biggest prison”, she believes.

Maika Makovski

“When I had worked for theatre I’d always based on a theme, on some texts, within a structure wide enough not to feel confined but sufficiently defined so as not to get lost”, she adds.

Makovski won the MAX Prize in 2014 for best musical composition in the play Forest. Besides, she is focused on the album that she will record on September this year, once again along with John Parish, who is known as the producer of PJ Harvey, Eels or Tracy Chapman. She worked with him back in 2009, regarding Maika Makovski album. Jim Barr (Portishead) and Billy Fuller (Robert Plant) also collaborated in this album.

Maika Makovski  Facebook | Twitter

Andrew Jackson Jihad

–  THE DEAF INSTITUTE, MANCHESTER –

In case any of us had forgotten, Andrew Jackson Jihad (AJJ) reminds us that guitars can actually sweat. And bleed. Clean and raucous, friendly furious, the punk-folk band from Arizona turs up as an effective catalyst for teenagers’ rage, as most of the audience tonight is pretty young and passionate for this odd DIY orchestra.

Like their support band Hard Girls, the guys from AJJ seem so intrigued about the big dimensions of the disco ball that reigns The Deaf Institute’s upper floor. They also have nice words for Manchester, as they claim to be pleased to perform “in this beautiful city”.

After a couple of jokes while lead singer and guitarist Sean Bonette cleans his glasses -with the very same towel with he will clean the sweat on his face, arms and the whole body of his acoustic guitar, they start showing their raw power, with the pack of songs ‘The Michael Jordan Of Drunk Driving’ and ‘Gift of the Magi 2: Return of the Magi’.

The crowd enjoys a smooth mosh-pit, and sings every song as the backing vocals for Bonette’s sarcastic and slightly high-pitched voice. Don’t let the nice-guy-look and the sometimes even poppy tunes of this jihad mislead you: some of their lyrics speak true haters’ language and therefore they’re not suitable for the optimistic ones. For instance, ‘Hate, Rain on Me’ contains an apparently cheerful and catchy chorus, but have a look at its disturbing beginning: “I wish I had a bullet big enough to fucking kill the sun. / I’m sick of songs about the summer. / And I hate everyone”. Seems a suitable soundtrack for puberty.

Yet, there’s a good vibe in the thick air (by the way, what’s the point of so much fog on the stage?). There’s a weird, rowdy harmony. People are in a furiously good mood, willing to jump, to shout out, to let off steam and smash the daily frustrations on the floor. Plus, bassist Ben Gallaty reminds us “this is a fun show” (it’s exactly that) and introduces one of their smash hits, ‘People II: The Reckoning’, whose final words triggers audience’s thirst for healthy vent:

“In fucking fact Mrs. Robinson

The world won’t care whether you live or die

In fucking fact Mrs. Robinson

They probably hate to see your stupid face

So here’s to you Mrs. Robinson

You live in an unforgiving place”

The Japanese rockers’ that will perform in Manchester next day could give a definition of Sean Bonette with their band’s name: Bonette moves like an electric eel on the stage, with his frank and frantic singing, as well as his fast guitar playing.

Andrew Jackson Jihad

The audience continues bursting out with ‘A Song Dedicated To The Memory Of Storming The Rabbit’, and calms down for a bit with the penetrating melody of the almost hypnotic ‘Coffin Dance’, followed by ‘I Wanna Rock Out of My Dreams’. At this point, Bonette leaves his guitar so as to climb the balcony of The Deaf Institute’s stage, like a spontaneous and irreverent Romeo. But his funny Tarzan-like scream while his hanging from the balcony takes away any sense of romanticism. When he lands onto the stage, he lets out a naughty giggle.

Bonette has recently been on his first solo European Tour 2015. “I’ll be playing whatever I feel like, really (…) Every night will be different, it’s going to be a lot of fun!”, he announced. He gives a sample of his solo performance playing a couple of acoustic songs. But he is not alone at all, as the audience can’t help singing along with him.

Songs like ‘Rejoice’ and ‘Fucc The Devil’ show that he has the rhythm and the nerve. That he can run wild just with his guitar.

The long-awaited ‘Temple Grandin’ appears like an agitated can of beer. The storm comes to an end with Bonette singing ‘Big Bird’ a cappella (“I’m afraid of the way that I live my life…”), which comes before a warm walkabout. At the end of the gig, even the glamorous disco ball is sweating…

Andrew Jackson Jihad   Official | Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvAA5oAsCzA

The Blockheads

– BAND ON THE WALL, MANCHESTER –

“Stay alive!” Astonishing bass (and showman) Norman Watt-Roy gives us a hint to understand the enduring success of this legendary band, The Blockheads. This one and only funky band have been alive and kicking since 1977, and they have honourably survived several split ups, deaths and some other twists and turns. It has to be quite challenging to carry on without the charismatic Ian Dury (1942-2000), but The Blockheads have much more to say yet, as they skilfully show at Manchester’s Band On The Wall, on this melting hot evening.

The room is crowded and the audience warmly welcomes the opening song of this gig, ‘Look The Other Way’, from their latest (and highly acclaimed) album Same Horse, Different Jockey, as if it was a timeless hit of the band.

Everyone is dancing to the alternately bluesy guitar of the “jazz-punk” pioneer Terry Edwards, as he plays the Ian Dury’s period ‘If I Was With a Woman’. “Look at them LAUGHING! LAUGHING!”. The good vibes are contagious, and the general mood goes mental with ‘Express Yourself’. Old school rockers mainly make the audience, and they definitely give a dancing as well as an attitude lesson to the younger ones. They move enviably. Respect!

Let’s have a look into this ‘meaningful’ poem by lead singer (and troubadour) Derek The Draw:

I can’t explain I ain’t that smart

Why do bake beans make you fart?

I’m grown up now but!

Still a kid at heart

That is, “still a kid at heart”. This could explain why the old school audience was “dancing out their asses off”, as one of the attendees will comment on social media afterwards, while most of the younger ones were almost static. Guess we were kind of speechless, looking at an outrageously lively Norman Watt-Roy, the funky rhythm running through his veins.

By the time they play the classic ‘Inbetweenies’, an off-the-wall Derek The Draw changes his sunglasses for a John Lennon style ones, hologram of the peace symbol included.

The Blockheads young

‘Sorry I Apologise’, also from their new album, shows the typical British humour at its best. Are they telling us a fairy tale or a funny joke? Probably both. Watt-Roy and Edwards exchange knowing smiles as Derek The Draw whistles… so as to keep order? On the contrary, it’s a direct command to dance wild to the catchy ‘What A Waste’. Then it’s time to ‘Wake Up’, as Derek Now-The-Joker shouts whilst he points at the wildest fans. At the same time, the youngest member of the band, drummer John Roberts, rolls his eyes in healthy ecstasy. The affable gentleman Mick Gallagher hammers the keys gracefully; Chaz Jankel now on guitar, now on keyboards, superb as usual; Gilad Atzmon seems to speak directly to our conscience through his sax. The whole scene is vibrant and suddenly turns into a crazy summer cabaret as they start playing ‘Billericay Dickie’, Derek The Draw singing along with Norman Watt-Roy. The great mantra comes straight away, in a blazing crescendo: ‘Sex & Drugs & Rock n’ Roll’.

In ‘I Wanna Be Straight’, Derek plays with one of his hippy foulards as soon as directs an imaginary orchestra in the audience. ‘Undercover’ is like a sneaky reggae whose sax solo gets a great ovation from the crowd.

Upss! Lead singer seems to be bleeding from the nose, but the show must go on with the oldie-like ballad ‘Sweet Gene Vincent’ and right after the rock n’ roll shot arrives with ‘Clever Trevor’ and ‘Reasons To Be Cheerful’, to end the first round with the super hit ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’ (“It’s nice to be a lunatic… HIT ME! HIT ME!”), which has an amazing climax with Atzmon playing two saxs at the same time. They leave for the second and final round a burning ‘Blockheads’ and a soothing ‘Lullaby for Francis’. Bloody crazy harmony. Hats off.

As we’ll hopefully soon see in the promising documentary about the history of The Blockheads -under the apt title ‘The Blockheads: Beyond the Call of Dury’, Chaz Jenkel once explained in TV why he used to introduced himself as a “musical architect”: “Cause I design music”, he sharply replied, with a proud smile. That’s a relieving thought: rock n’ roll has in The Blockheads a solid structure to lean on. Oi! Oi!

The Blockheads  Official | Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOduIzdjHDU

Bones Shake

– THE CASTLE HOTEL, MANCHESTER –

As I’m walking towards The Castle, I blame the atmospheric pressure and this thick humidity for feeling so worn out, but as soon as I enter the tiny room for gigs of this cosy pub all the (environ)mental haze goes away at a stroke. “From the bowels of Scotland”, Thee Rag N Bone Man and his “one man band brutal trash blues” beats forcefully every sign of atmospheric hangover. To be fair, the rockabilly audience also helps clearing the head as they explode little petards against the floor. It doesn’t seem there’s any particular reason for this firecracker party, but they are enjoying it quite a bit.

Before Mancunians Bones Shake show up, New York Wannabes duo from Frankfurt performs a convincing garage psychobilly set; while the handsome X Ray Cat Trio, from Leeds, give us a good sample of smooth surf rock and rockabilly.

By the way, long live Abattoir Blues Records for this evening, and long live as well the filthy rug of The Castle’s stage that buffers the thunderous drums! Dusty rock to call the storm that is yet to come, hell yeah!

Lead singer David J. Brennan’s particular soundcheck starts and ends with a roar from the guts to his micro. Along with Andy Sheffield (guitar) and David Sheffield (drums), they are introducing their latest album, ‘Kicks’.

They open with ‘Flying The Flag’. “Come on! Come on!”, the singer shouts forceful, with an after death –or maybe just sleepless-night-like voice, in a continuous reverb. “Come on shake your bones…”.

Scuzzed, fuzzed, raucous. Dirty blues that shakes your bones indeed. Here it is how the guys from Abattoir Blues describe this three piece: “They play everything into the red; violent bottle neck blues riffs, drums kicked, pounded and twatted and squeals of reverb drenched vocals all combine to help save your soul”. Certainly, they may save your soul… by dirtying it.

The riff of ‘Pig Sty’ reminds me of Ten Years After’s ‘I’m coming on’ in some way, but, again, it could be just the environmental haze…

The three of them seem electrocuted and electrifying as they play the third song, which if I’m not wrong –probably I am, it’s ‘Wild Witch Lady’, from Death Vignettes, the ‘reduced’ version of Bones Shake, with just the two Daves performing more bare bones blues than bones shake. Personally, I prefer this ‘alter duo’. Just raw rock, no dumb show.

‘Gut Bucket’ and ‘Stash’ highlight Brennan’s Bohemian leanings, evoking a vague reminiscence of raging seventies, perhaps.

Deep in ‘Mean Season’, Brennan sings as if he was theatrically looking to the endless sea; after this hypnotic lapse, he shakes his hips with an imaginary hula hoop.

A quite punk intro foresees their smash-hit-to-be ‘You Should End It All’, enhanced by Brennan’s gutty, rough voice. “Go on, my deaaarrrr; go on, my deaaarrr”. In honour of this funnily catchy song, Brenner is about to end this thunderstorm show, with ‘Oh My Lord’. He takes a small DIY bible to perform this tune, so guess he is now some kind rock n’ roll preacher, pointing at the parishioners, and he even ‘baptises’ some of them, down from the pulpit. Then he leaves the convent and goes back to the stage, shirtless.

Frankly, there’s no need to be that theatrical, as you’re not that kind of rock n’ roll star… yet. Meanwhile, let your bones shake all the haze and daze!

Bones Shake Facebook | Soundcloud | Twitter

The Maccabees

– FOPP, MANCHESTER –

Finding beauty amongst the daily grind is no easy task, yet Southern London’s guys Maccabees have managed to do so. Their brand new album, Marks To Prove It, seems an urban ode to their beloved London’s area Elephant and Castle. Some kind of crazy London’s B Side, I guess.

They’ve chosen to introduce their latest album –the fourth one following the acclaimed ‘Given To The Wild’, with a batch of in-store concerts. One of those takes place in this flooded Fopp store in Manchester. A “stripped back” performance, as it’s been announced.

I feel so privileged, as I’ve never been so close to the musicians before. It’s quite curious actually: the band, the fans, the photographers and the security guards, all of us are line up, sharing the same tiny space that’s left amongst all these loads of CD’s, DVD’s and books. Maccabees burst out with the ‘Something Like Happiness’, whose all-together harmonic choruses bring an idyllic music video scene. Suddenly it feels like summer, there’s no rain, nor pain outside.

After this promising start, lead singer Orlando Weeks looks around, “It’s weird…”, mumbles. “Hello!”, greets the mostly very young audience. They continue this weird and cosy –very cosy – evening show with the already-hit ‘Marks To Prove It’. The band’s live performance of this tune, which stands out for its different tempos and the final spooky melody, is simply flawless, yet fresh and fierce.

I can’t see what’s so funny, but Maccabees continue exchanging knowing looks and giggling. The poor fans at the back use their smartphones to ‘watch live’ the performance through their ridiculously big screens. After discussing whether to play ‘Kamakura’ or ‘Spit It Out’, the band chooses the first one, a pop-ballad-like song with subtly disturbing lyrics: “Drinking when you’re drunken (…) /No one says a word/Because it breaks a heart…”.

Then comes the overwhelming ‘Spit It Out’, whose somewhat restrained cry “Spit-It-Out! Out! Out!” and the quite existentialist “What do we do now?” stick into your mind the same way a vivid, profound memory does.

Funnily enough, as soon as they finish performing ‘Spit It Out’, Weeks spills his bottle of water. “Yeah, I know…”, he mutters. Felix White asks the audience to sing along with them ‘Pelican’, from the previous album ‘Given To The Wild’. If you feel that you’re too old to hang out at certain pubs but too young to join the ‘Newly Parents’ Club’, then this is your song.

This brief gig it also includes an encore song, which is an ‘old one’ as well: the breathtaking ‘Toothpaste Kisses’. Weeks’ final whistling, accompanied by Sam Doyle’s sizzling cymbals, gets a silenced wow from the audience as an answer.

This fleeting live sample is enough to understand why Maccabees are claimed as “the band who buried landfill indie” (NME, 2010). Got the marks to prove it.

The Maccabees  Official | Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=NZcFMwga1A4

“Things can get out of a black hole, both to the outside, and possibly, to another universe. So, if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up. There’s a way out” (*). This is Stephen Hawking’s encouraging reflection on the everlasting human concern about what’s on the other side(s).

Spanish progressive post-rock band Exxasens’ latest album, Back to Earth, could be the perfect soundtrack for the renowned scientist’s essay. A way to illustrate the cosmic romanticism that says there’s always a way out.

Certainly, that’s what this talented band bringa back to Earth according to the press release, “After an eight-year space travel and four DIY albums, including the acclaimed Eleven Miles (2011) and Satellites (2013)”, according to the press release. “In this period, Exxasens has evolved from a one-man solo project (led by Jordi Ruiz) to a fully-fledged band”, it also says.

This four-piece based in Barcelona, and by the likes of Mogwai and Explosions in the Sky, is labelled as cosmic rock: spatial exploration is their main inspiration. They are Oriol Planells (drums), Cesc Céspedes (bass), Sergio Ledesma (synths/keys) and Jordi Ruiz (guitars/programming).

So, it appears there’s some kind of hope out there, BUT after struggling with dark matter, if you let me add. Exxasens’ fifth album seems to me like a thoughtful tale about the eternal fight between good and evil, between the mundane and the other-worldly. Sometimes wins the first, sometimes you can discern the human defeat by its fateful Destiny, as a damned star inevitably splits. Along this battle there’s also a deep sense of moaning melancholy, a continuous gloomy aura, a burning halo surrounding a distant universe. And some sort of a cry for resistance, perhaps.

Beyond these ill-defined metaphors, musically, to some extent naïve melodies lead on to heavier sounds. Are we really getting back to Earth or are we losing gravity yet? This epic poem certainly takes you far away from stars, through every black hole, towards somewhere else but Earth.

After a powerful and purely melodic opening with ‘Supernova’ and ‘My Hands Are Planets’, the back home journey turns darker with ‘Hugeness’, then the smooth shooting star called ‘Oniria’s Interlude’ gives way to the ethereal rhapsody ‘Your Dreams Are My Dreams’. The beacon of hope (and also a wink to Pink Floyd) leans on ‘Bright Side Of The Moon’. This ‘bright side’ is also deep and disturbing, and finally explodes with sharp guitar chords. The inspiring lyrics of ‘Saturn’ are (surprisingly) very much appreciated. Why ‘surprisingly’? Cause when you get used to this instrumental cosmic rock, you totally forget about the missing voice, but in this case the singing harmoniously suits the music. The end of this mind-blowing trip comes with the song that gives name to the album, and it is powerfully metal.

Is Exxasens’ music preferably worth listening to at night? Sweet cosmic dreams? Yeah, think so.

(*) From ‘Into a Black Hole’, 2008, an essay by Stephen Hawking (you can read it here: http://www.hawking.org.uk/into-a-black-hole.html).

Release Date 07/09/2015 (Aloud Music)

Exxasens Official | Facebook | Twitter | Soundcloud

Randolph Swain at Millstone Rocks 2015. Photo credit: Facebook

– THE CASTLE HOTEL, MANCHESTER –

I like it when the stars align the right way. I mean, is it a coincidence that Randolph Swain and The Red Lights almost sing to the latest ‘Blood Moon’? Don’t think so. I want to believe. The truth, in this case, is inside The Castle Hotel in Manchester. Another gig, another planet. Literally.

“You could be in any other place tonight, but for some reason you’re here”, duly informs The 99 Degree’s singer and orchestra leader. This outrageous band supports Randolph Swain and the Red Lights’ new album launch, Half Life.

Before that, an affable acoustic troubadour called Tramping Artisan “kicks where he comes from”, which is Oldham, if I’m right. There is certain trapped, sour sadness in his eyes-closed-singing, despite he tries to convince the audience that he’s “really a happy man”. His irregular voice, full of intention and soul, might be better for a Sunday evening. But it’s Saturday night and The 99 Degree seems to notice that. This noisy four-piece entertain us with their funky-grungy business. Watching the peculiar, at times camp dancing of the singer, I suddenly experience a Sex Pistols moment: “If he can do it, I can do it too”. Judging by the rough, proudly-out-of-tune voice of him, I guess that they’d never pass the first casting of any X-Factor extravaganza. And that’s why I like them: because they would never win that kind of programme.

Dressed for success through a black holes trek, the so-called Randolph Swain’s NASA-Yamaha outfit inevitably attracts crowd’s attention. As soon as he starts the rudimentary ‘Persulphocyanogen Lullaby’ (from their debut album New Planet), the name of David Bowie comes to light. Certainly, there is much of Ziggy Stardust and all the other characters in Randolph Swain’s sound and extra-terrestrial appearance, but at the same time, it appears to me as something completely and genuinely different. According to an interview with Silent Radio* two years ago, he referred to his music as “mock rock”. Well, he must be kidding. It’s seriously pure rock n’ roll… from outer space.

The forcefully disturbing ‘We Are Scientist’ introduces the bone-crushing crew of Randolph, consisting of James Rigg on guitar, Fitz on bass and Craig Rostock on drums. “We are scientist (…) You are chemistry…”.

Allegedly from Manchester but surely raised somewhere else between the Mancunian and the Milky Way, Randolph Swain sings to ‘This Old World’. Despite his artwork is mainly inspired by vintage imagery, he’s an astronaut of this digital era, as he uses a tablet to create stellar atmospheres, as well as to play us recorded brief stories or announce where to buy band’s T-Shirts and some other useful tips.

‘Outside’ brings piercing guitars that Swain translates into words, “There’s no heaven or hell, there’s no place for us to hide, there’s only the outside.” ‘Little House’, from the previous album, has something that connects straight away with my wrecked orbit.

Back to the spatial crew, with all these sweeping guitars and propulsive drumming, Mr. Fitz’s bass is the last bond to the gravity law. After discovering the mysterious ‘New California’, they switch to poppier sounds in ‘Venice ‘The Rocket’ Renko’, which Mr. Swain performs with a permanent grin in his face, as if he was inviting us to a nice stroll through Eris.

On the other (dark) side, ‘Marianne’ is a painful ballad that inevitably sticks on your soul. Riding drums for a stratospheric kind-of-reloaded-Leonard-Cohen, “It’s up to you, Maaaarianne”. Spot on. Then they give us a good piece of advice in ‘Don’t Get Caught In That Hole’.

Don’t ask me why, but the aptly titled ‘Late Night Hot Tub Party’ vaguely reminds me of Joey Ramone. They end the show with a brand new, unreleased song, ‘Daddy’.

I can’t help this bittersweet feeling after suffering the behaviour of some bloody drunk earthlings and their bloody ‘selfies’, literally invading the tiny stage to the point that the guitarist has to hold up the gear skilfully while he keeps playing.

Ey, Captain Randolph Swain, Earth sucks, innit? Is there any room left in your spaceship? If so, I’m in.

Randolph Swain  Official | Facebook | Youtube | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1M_Lv2GxiY

(*)Read here Randolph Swain’s interview with Silent Radio: http://www.silentradio.co.uk/01/28/who-are-ya-randolph-swain-and-the-red-lights/

Jim Jones & The Righteous Mind

– SOUND CONTROL, MANCHESTER –

“Get involved!!!” screams Jim Jones to the audience who are just a few centimetres from the stage, asking us to get even closer. Yet, there are some fellows amongst the crowd with their shiny smartphones and cameras, trying to digitally grab the moment. I understand the temptation, souvenirs for the future. But as the Australian songwriter Suzie Stapleton* sings with her deep, whispering voice, “Future is here”. So, avoid all the distractions… yes, let’s get involved!

It is said that one of the main reasons of TV’s success lies in its low cost, but think twice, do you really think that it’s so cheap? Consider the side effects and get your way to the pub.

London-based rock n’ roller Jim Jones enters the tiny, dimly stage at Manchester’s Sound Control with his brand new crew, The Righteous Mind. They are Gavin Jay on bass, contrabass and b-vox –‘rescued’ from the previous Jim Jones Revue; Malcolm Troon on pedal steel, guitar and b-vox; Matt Millership on keys and b-vox and Phil Martini on drums and b-vox. The latter will be out for a while though, and Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ drummer Jim Sclavunos is replacing him for the remaining ‘Boil Yer Blood’ UK tour dates.

They’re all dressed to the nines for the occasion, in the finest, smart rockabilly suits. They barely have room to move, which explains lead singer’s tendency to sing on the edge of the stage, so close to the privileged crowd. By the way, how can he manage to sing with a chewing gum within his mouth? Rock n’ roll gimmick, I guess.

Their opening ‘Aldecide’ with this galloping “Uuuuh-uuuh”, all at once, predicts that an electric hurricane is coming, so brace yourselves. They take us into a dizzy spell straight away, with a classy display of thrilling rhythms.

After the catchy back vocals of ‘Til It’s All Gone’, they perform the lead song ‘Boil Yer Blood’, a powerful shot of rock adrenaline, whilst ‘No Fool’ sets a superb example of thunderous harmony.

On the other hand, the mind-bending ‘Shallow Grave’ soaks through your bones like pouring rain. Actually, I’d say that this is one of the main differences between the extinct Jim Jones Revue and the new endeavour: both aesthetically and musically, Jim Jones drifts into the deep dark waters of the occult. By the way, a big applause, please, to the disturbingly awesome artwork by French illustrator and tattooist Jean-Luc Navette.

Gavin Jay’s double bass seems to be a suitable life vest for ‘Save My Life’. I particularly enjoy the last part of this song, some kind of explosion that let us know there’s no turning back at this point, so hold fast, sailors!

‘1000 Miles From The Sure’ is like a feverish kiss, a daydream, psychedelic trip to who-knows-where, followed by the apt ‘Hold Up’. This is the end of the first round.

They leave the tonic ‘Base Is Loaded’ and ‘Dream’ for the encore of this overwhelming show. No matter what brand he takes, Jim Jones’ music keeps the honourable status of rock from the guts.  As I type these words, I think that rock n’ roll certainly is the sweetest poison, a one-way ticket to a dreamy land without boundaries or fear. I could be wrong, though. Maybe it’s just the fever speaking…

* Suzie Stapleton is supporting Jim Jones & The Righteous Mind in their UK tour. Before her intimate performance, Mancunians Heavy On The Magic warm up this gig at Sound Control. Nice stuff, guys!

Jim Jones and The Righteous Mind  Official | Facebook | Twitter | Youtube

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=yByrMERK25Y

The Truth of Revolution, Brother: An Exploration of Punk Philosophy

WRITTEN BY LISA SOFIANOS, ROBIN RYDE & CHARLIE WATERHOUSE

“If punk was an explosion, then is about what’s happened after the dust settled”, says the foreword of ‘The Truth of Revolution, Brother: An Exploration of Punk Philosophy’ (Situation Press, 2014), by Lisa Sofianos, Robin Ryde and Charlie Waterhouse. This beautifully designed book has a hidden treasure within: several influential punks, I mean, true punks sharing their experiences, thoughts and ways of life.

Conceived as a jigsaw of different voices, it talks about the honesty and the responsibility behind the safety pins, the mohicans and all that paraphernalia, many times empty and over-exploited.

The reader will find a good deal of smashing pieces of truth. “There is no authority but ourselves / There is no love without your own” (Crass’ Penny Rimbaud).

Let’s get it straight, though: this is not a manifesto, but a faithful proof of an attitude that made a difference.

So, what caused that punk explosion? For David King, it was “a combination of disappointment and anger”. Think of punk as a way of shouting out that you actually don’t agree with the bloody terms and conditions.

“To fight the system, or to be the system, that is my biggest question!”, confesses Einar Örn Benediktsson (The Sugarcubes/Ghostigital). Gee Vaucher (Crass) seems to know well the answer to that dilemma: “I’m much more interested in quietly undermining a system if we want to change. I’m an optimist in that respect, or is it romantic?”. For Ian Mackaye (Minot Threat/Fugazi), “the whole point about the way the system works is that our hours are not ours”.

Tic-toc. Who owns our biological clock?

Let’s take Jón Gnarr’s curious life or God Save ‘Maladaptiveness’: “After two years with a paediatric psychiatry institution my diagnosis was ‘Maladaptiveness’ (…). The assumption was that I would never be a normally functioning person in society, and that was the diagnosis”.

Another clue to change our minds, courtesy of Mark Wilson (The Mob): “A lot of us are relying on the banks when we should be relying on each other”.

When Mike Watt (Minutemen/The Stooges) was a nice little kid, he thought that Coltrane “was punk too – just a little older”. For he and his mates, punk was not a style of music but a state of mind. He quotes his beloved friend D Boon: “Punk is whatever we made it to be”. Indeed. Punk is the music and “the hole in the maze” (Jón Gnarr dixit) for the outsiders (“People still see us as outsiders, but outside of what?”), the curious, the dissatisfied, the vulnerable.

Mark Stewart (The Pop Group) points out that “knowledge is a nutrient”. An everyday essential, no doubt. I must admit that I wasn’t aware of how keen punks are on vegetarianism. Knowing about the commitment of many of the interviewed, I confess I’ve felt guilty of not being so considerate to animals. For my reassurance, a couple of days ago I read that a third of the ‘veggies’ eat meat when they’re drunk – Thanks, Vice.

Penny Rimbaud (oh, such a great philosopher!) also contributes to my peace of mind: “The first person to forgive is oneself”.

Punk is about poetry as well. Take this brief sample from Rimbaud’s performance in memory of John Lennon ‘Yes, Sir, I Will’: “(…) Even when it’s there like the wind seen from the window, seeing it, but not being touched by it”. “Yes, we are poets of love”, asserts the author.

Obviously, this philosophy book also deals with big issues such as happiness or death. Let’s take the first one (luckily we always know more about it rather than the latter, don’t we?). First step in the search for happiness: don’t seek it. “I don’t actually strive after happiness and I think it just makes you unhappy if you do”, Tim Smith believes.

On the other hand, Gavin McInnes, one of the founders of Vice and considered himself as a “nerdy punk” -“Yes, punks with books!”, gives us another interesting view on this everlasting matter: “Pursuing that strange ideal is what true happiness is”.

The great Steve Albini, who refuses to take any royalties for his skillful work, questions the purpose of making plans for the future and all that ‘where-will-I-be-5 years-ahead’ crap. “I have essentially refused to have goals”. Simple. Wise.

In fact, according to Ian Mackaye, “there’s four fundamentals in life, right? Air, water, food and fucking (…) Everything else is accoutrements”. Beat that.

Tim Smith applies the same clever simplicity when he reflects on death: “We know about the inevitability of death but it has nothing to do with your dissatisfaction now with your life”.

This is one of the most meaningful books that I’ve read since Chuck Palahniuk’s ‘Fight Club’. “If you want to do something different you have to break some rules”. It’s not Tyler Durden speaking, but Mark Wilson.

It is always reassuring to meet someone who speaks your mind. It’s healthy to be reminded of the main distractors of living right-here-right-now, i.e: the past, regrets, expectations, attachments, fear, television –a way to evade “from the misery of actual life, from the weather, from having a shitty, repetitive, underpaying job”, explains Dick Lucas clearly as a precious and unique snowflake.

If there’s any key message implied, it might be something like this: “Let’s do it ourselves. Let’s do it now. We’ll see whether we’re right or wrong, but in any case it will be our choice. Your choice. Think and act on your own”. That works as the truth of revolution for me. “The choice is ours, the voice is ours, why wait?”, Rimbaud encourages us.

Once the sparkling explosion is gone and the dust is settled, what’s left for punk? Is it really dead yet? “I think that the punk philosophy that is still with me today is not to be afraid to have a go; don’t panic because it doesn’t matter if it fails”, says Tony Drayton. Plus, “in a more thoughtful and considerate way”, Dick Lucas is “still angry”. There’s hope, then.

The Truth Of Revolution, Brother Official | Situation Press

Buzzcocks

– MANCHESTER ACADEMY, MANCHESTER –

I woke up on Sunday morning with ‘Harmony In My Head’ hammering in my head. It’s far from a hangover, it’s such a nice feeling. “Whenever I’m in doubt about the things I do…”. A couple of hours before Buzzcocks’ gig at The Academy in Manchester, I watch an old video on Youtube and I wonder if Steve Diggle still be able to express that kind fury. I get the answer –Yes, indeed!!! by the encore of this concert that celebrates the 25^th anniversary of this venue. But before that, I get one high-octane shot after another…

Mancunian veteran bands Gabrielle’s Wish, Marion and The Members warm up the evening. Special mention to the latter band’s oldies-seventies hit: ‘Sound of the Suburbs’.

Yet, the venue is half full, and the mood is so quiet. It’s OK, but honestly I can’t help wondering where’s the buzz, the anger, the immediacy.

There it is. Buzzcocks enter the stage and without any greetings or hesitation, they start playing fast and furious ‘Boredom’. “It’s the Buzz, cocks!!”. Definitely. I look back and there is a wave of a once-punk-now-bald bunch of guys. They probably work in a bank or in a chain store now, within the system, in other words. But when they were young they listened to this music, they were raised with bands like Buzzcocks. I feel so envious of all these ladies and gentlemen…

There’s no time to wink or buy another pint, as they play straight away another classic, ‘Fast Cars’. Diggle appears like a nice dandy, always with his funny, naughty smile, raising his guitar triumphant. With the third song, ‘I Don’t Mind’ (maybe the English equivalent to Ramones’ ‘I Don’t Care’), the mosh-pit is already on fire. Buzzcocks originals Steve Diggle and Pete Shelley celebrate the passion of the crowd, while new members Danny Farrant (drums) and Chris Remington (bass) seem equally pleased.

Buzzcocks have enough history to tell some rock battles or punky fairy tales between one smashing hit and the other. Nowhere near. They seem to be in kind of a rush, they perform their classics and some songs from their latest album ‘The Way’ in a frantic row, like a relentless tommy gun. A little less conversation, a little more action, then. I really appreciate the fact they don’t mess around and get straight to the point. Maybe that urgency has something to do with what deserter founder Howard Devoto once said: “We never thought there would be another album nor another gig. So, we had to do it fast”.

‘Autonomy’ arrives like a wild horse, while ‘Fiction Romance’ is as deep and pure as an unexpected thunder. They blend this gems with new fresh blood such as ‘People Are Strange Machines’, then to continue with more old school anthems: ‘What Ever Happened To?’, ‘Why She’s A Girl From Chainstore’, ‘Sick City Sometimes’, ‘Nothing Left’ –I just love the moment in which Shelley and Diggle perfectly synchronise their guitars, ‘Moving Away From The Pulsebeat’ –full of piercing  arabesque sounds, and ‘Noise Annoys’.

After a maybe too instrumental interlude during some of the above mentioned songs (where’s the fleeting nature of punk, guys?), they jump into ‘It’s Not You’, from ‘The Way’. I know this might sound an overused cliché, but this album sounds much more mature, they seem to calm down and it’s also darker than the previous works, full of catchy, even quite poppy tunes.

The grand finale comes with another sparkling blast from the past: ‘You Say You Don’t Love Me’, ‘Promises’, ‘Love You More’ and ‘What Do I Get?’. Well, we get an hour of raw energy. But there’s more for the encore: ‘In The Back’, also from ‘The Way’; Kurt Cobain’s favourite ‘Harmony In My Head’ –beautifully performed. I like their characteristic background high-pitched sounds, so urban, like Manchester’s city centre’s continuous sirens. What a tune!

Of course, then it comes what everyone is craving for: ‘Ever Fallen In Love?’ It’s quite funny to see such a ferocious mosh-pit to the rhythm of such a pop superhit. Tender.

They say goodbye to a breathless, satisfied crowd with the apt ‘Orgasm Addict’.

B’dum B’dum…

Buzzcocks  Official | Facebook | Twitter 

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTspt78Gd5Q

Carefully Planned #5

– VARIOUS VENUES, MANCHESTER –

It’s been a hard week, and as I get to Manchester’s gem The Northern Quarter, I doubt whether I’ll be able to fulfill the rather ambitious programme that I’ve arranged for A Carefully Planned Festival. It’s bloody Sunday and I feel so bloody tired, but I come across with a bizarre cyclist who drives a bicycle fully equipped with big speakers, playing loud, cheerful music. This is Manchester, I guess, and I take that as an energizing signal. Let’s get the party started.

First I meet Fuzzy Jones at Cord Café. I follow a sweet voice that comes downstairs. She’s performing in a tiny non-stage, with her acoustic guitar, her silky voice and her funky bohemian look. It’s a nice start for this unlimited festival (more than 150 bands in two days!!) that celebrates its fifth edition – Congrats!

The sound of gentle guitars (she is accompanied by another guitarist) and the sweetness of her voice bring some peace of mind. It feels like a warm hug in a winter’s day. “Where’s love? Where’s your life?”, she asks so patiently. The audience enjoys this bunch of witty songs about wrecked relationships. “Blood and coffee in the morning (…) don’t look at me until I have a coffee”. Softly sharp, softly accurate. Classy.

According to the festival’s guide, her genre is ‘junk shop folk’. Well, that’s weird, but I do agree with the similarity to Joni Mitchell’s voice, by your leave. By the way, the gig guide is one of the best things of this festival, I just can’t help laughing at all the ridiculously insane genres list: from ‘dream-pop-post-folk-neo-everything’ (Haiku Salut) to ‘schizophrenic pop soup + sweet mangoes on the side’ (JaJa OK) or the paradoxical ‘pre-post-punk’ (Doctrines), just to mention a few examples.

Then I pop into a flooded Gullivers to see the final cut of A Sudden Burst of Colour. Judging by their name, it could perfectly be a new makeup line. Don’t let their young, angel-faces mislead you though: they sound very powerful (and the venue’s very loud sound equipment enhances that as well).

The room is quite stuffy so I appreciate some fresh air. I leave Oldham Street behind and head for Aatma, former Kraak – God save this venue, so authentic! By the time I get there Campfires is already shaking the crowd. Kindly energetic, the Leeds’ trio easily connects with the audience thanks to their good vibes and funny jokes. Encouraged by the hilarious gig guide, I dare to say that Campfires is a blend of post-rock, progressive basis and a quite indie-like singing.

With no time to mess around – this all-you-can-hear revue makes me feel so happily anxious! I run to Night & Day to meet the noisy Kamikaze Girls. This raucous 2-piece from Leeds and Brighton growls and invades the air with harmonic grunge -this thing of inventing genres is like a drug, please somebody help me! It seems to me that drummer Conor Dawson is a bit far from the Nefertiti eyed lead singer and guitarist Lucinda Livingstone. Yet, their knowing looks overcome any distance. She sings from the very guts, sometimes out of tune but always properly convincing.

I read Annabel Allum in shiny letters at Night & Day’s ladies’ toilets. You can’t escape the music, definitely.

Carefully Planned #5

Due to logistic reasons I just manage to see the end of the show by Doctrines at the same venue. It’s a pity, because they seem to have great fun on the stage, healthily aggressive.

I jump into Mint Lounge by the last song –holy shit! of Blooms. Their self description as “Manc-miserablism + cali-surf” makes me very curious, so I’ll try to catch this dreamy-surf-noise-fun band as soon as I can.

Focus. The good time is far from its end. Back to Gullivers, I pretty much enjoy Politburo’s weird, psychedelic atmosphere. In contrast to bands’ model student look, lead singer wears a shabby poncho –he looks just nice! Applause for his amusing falsettos.

Special mention to Pifco, as they perform some heavily noisy punk stuff at Castle Hotel. High-pitched war cry and forceful beating. Original outfit, indeed. Sensitive ears, please hold back.

Back to Aatma Again –mental!, it’s crowded due to insanely talented Vasa, a thunderous instrumental post rock quartet from Glasgow. Beware of the naughty-kid-look-like bassist. Bit spooky –glubs!

My friend’s right: it looks like the very same passionate crowd from Vasa turns up to Delta Sleep at Night & Day. Or maybe it’s the vague feeling that we all know each other after partying for hours and hours and hours. Delta Sleep’s soundtrack is ideal for an unconsciousness pleasant state, as well as for an inspiring awakening.

I’m aware that it’s impossible to be in two places at the same time, but I’m a Schrödinger’s paradox fan so I’m at Gullivers again, deadly alive, listening to mind-blowing Mind Mountain. Painfully piercing but thankfully desert rock infused psychedelia.

One friend deserts afterwards. He goes back home in search of ibuprofen, but man, the right medicine is right here, at Aatma: ladies and gentlemen, meet the Bad Meds. They clear my stunned mind straight away. Genre? “Punk”. For fans of… “Punk”. Naturally.

A Carefully Planned Festival  Official | Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED5zHULjDt8

The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion

– SOUND CONTROL, MANCHESTER –

Wouldn’t it be just nice to burst in your boss/tutor/whoever-who-call-the shots’ office and shout out: “Blues explosion!”? And then, just to clarify your position in front of a very much likely puzzled face: “Uh!” “Ah!” “Oh, yeah!” “C’mon!” “Let’s GO!”

Yeahh… I picture the deliciously funny scene while I let myself hypnotise with the looping spirals on the two big screens displayed on both sides of the stage, upstairs at Sound Control, where Americans Jon Spencer Blues Explosion (JSBX) start to detonate an uncontrolled explosion of noisy, rowdy and sweaty blues rock.

The room is crowded and devoted, and JSBX immediately give us a non-stop burst of new and not-so-new songs in response. Beautifully messy. This voracious trio is back in town to disturb our minds with their latest album Freedom Tower. No Wave Dance Party 2015.

My friend wisely advises me not to put together in the same line the words ‘hip hop’ and ‘Jon Spencer’, but I’m a bloody journalist and I live fast and unconsciously. So, here it is: I think there’s some roaring hip-hop in this album (sorry, mate, I did it). In fact, it does make sense. JSBX is responsible for a faithful soundtrack of New York City. “Recorded at the legendary Daptone House Of Soul in Bushwick and mixed with hip-hop cult legend Alap Momin at the cutting edge of Harlem, ‘Freedom Tower’ is the most provocative statement of urban pathos and panache ever recorded”, as they claim. Take hasty songs such as ‘Funeral’, ‘Born Bad’ or ‘Dial Up Doll’, amongst many others.

To illustrate all those sounds of dirty blues, hectic punk-funk and a tribute nod to Fat Boys, the images on the big screens show vintage horror film scenes, dancing skeletons, exuberant strippers and fast cars crossing the sleepless, broad city. Is Fred Astaire also included in this raving mad mishmash video?

I think that the quite industrial atmosphere along the album also suits the wonderfully mad city where they are playing tonight. The only pause between songs like ‘Betty vs. The NYPD’, ‘She’s On It/Jack The Ripper’ or ‘Do the Get Down’ is an energising “Blues Explosion!” by Spencer, a shout that the crowd cheers more enthusiastically every time. “Say Blues Explosion! again!”, a member of the audience jokes about it later.

Photo by Francesca Notola

Sweat usually is a good rock barometer, and Jon Spencer sweats A LOT. Dressed in a quite gypsy shirt -which could be borrowed from Morrissey, he jumps on stage like a cricket and sweat rains copiously on the first row. Now on guitar, now on theremin, the microphone is basically in his mouth, as a way to amplify the beat within his body, perhaps. What a scenic creature, such an irreverent electric eel.

So yes, there’s a lot of glorious, pouring sweat and raw rock tonight. Loads of “Uh!-Ah!-Uh!-Ah!” throaty shouts as well –take the classic ‘She Said’.

Psycho-savage-look-like drummer Russell Simins and stormy bluesman guitarist Judah Bauer –nice voice too, by the way, add more fuel to an already high-octane, impulsive performance by Spencer.

Forget the setlist, it’s all about the mood, the metropolis’ eclosion. By the time the encore arrives, the room is melting down and no one can stand still. I take (and delight in) ‘Tales of the Old New York: The Rock Box’ as a frenzied ode to the Big Apple. Pointing at a beautiful tall couple, Spencer says that he likes what they’ve got. Me too. Blues Explosion!

Encore’s corner: MING CITY ROCKERS (DOLLS)

I leave my friends in the smoking yard talking about how to get into Frank Zappa and his broken-crystals-sound insane stuff. When I come back from the toilet, they’re discussing the lustful life of Mozart. My friends are so cool.

As cool as Ming City Rockers. This furiously young band is supporting JSBX tonight, and when they enter the stage abruptly, I’m astonished due to their outlandish look. Judging by the dangerously misleading first impressions, I think they may be a hybrid between the New York Dolls and Clockwork Orange. The frantic bassist proudly moves a carefully electrocuted hair and seems wanting to call people’s attention so badly. On the contrary, the so serious lead guitarist barely moves. She seems so focus on playing her best (which she does). She vaguely reminds me of Patti Smith’s Horses’ look. Lucky fresh three chords and straight to the point –thanks for that! Nice vocals and attitude by lead singer, fully equipped with guitar, harmonica and everything! I wonder whether they live up to their rocking clothing: yes, they sound reasonably well. Plus, it’s always inspiring to see a young band evoking the New York Dolls’ legacy.

The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion  Official | Facebook | Twitter

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FHTm17sfLc

EODM

 – THE RITZ, MANCHESTER –

It’s Monday and I’m still wondering where did I lose my last handful of neurons, but hey, breakfast with philosophy: life is just so serious to take it seriously, innit?

Flashback to Saturday night. The Ritz is packed and a cheerfully anxious crowd waits for Eagles Of Death Metal’s entertaining show. I assume a great deal of people expect to see Josh Homme tonight. But no, Jesse Hughes bursts into the stage instead, taking off an odd cape like a magician revealing his trick. Homme’s absence might be disappointing for some, but it doesn’t seem a problem at all for our kinky lead singer: “That way, people just look at me”, a sarcastic Hughes once said. Before the show starts with a mesmerizing ‘I Only Want You’, Hughes AKA ‘Boots Electric’ lip-syncs Pilot’s ‘Magic’ background music, and encourages an already smiling crowd to sing along the seventies anthem.

The burning ‘Don’t Speak (I Came To Make A Bang)’ is well received by passionate fans who clap for Reverend Hughes – he became an ordained minister with the Universal One Church back in 2012! He doesn’t take long to start flirting with every female he scans with his devilish red tinted glasses. Feminists might not like what I’m gonna say, but cheeky-but-still-sweet Hughes knows how to raise a woman’s ego. “Yes, you, I’m looking at you. I love you, girl”, and that kind of stuff. What a man… Take Chuck Berry, Chuck Norris and Little Richard, mix them in the oddest rock n’ roll cocktail. Then add a little bit from Woody Woodpecker. Yeah, you’ve got Jesse Hughes.

The mosh-pit spreads like a shock wave with ‘Secret Plans’. Someone from the crowd throws some black knickers at Hughes, who doesn’t hesitate to smell them and keep the souvenir tied to the mic stand. He seems to get nervous though. He laughs, the crowd laughs. In fact, this is the kind of show to enjoy with a permanent broad grin. EODM is a powerful painkiller. Hipsters and posers, please hold off. You too, Axl Rose.

Time for the catchy, super-cool hit ‘Complexity’, from the brand new album Zipper Down. Temperature and enthusiasm continue rising. I’m pretty sure that anyone from the crowd would happily ‘Kiss The Devil’ by now. You can’t help feeling sympathy for the Devil. All those girls with fake moustaches can tell you that. Rowdy guitars and stomping drums bring us to a hectic dessert, probably the same one they come from. Gandalf-bearded Dave Catching battles with Hughes, both armed with their respective killing guitars.

‘Complexity’ Video

For some reason Hughes mentions Viagra and two guys behind me hysterically shout “Alleluyah, Minister!!”. ‘The Reverend’ puts us now in the middle of an electric storm. “How nice it sounds when we fuck it up!”, he admits.

After ‘I’ve Got A Feeling (Just 19)’, the womanizer speaks to the female once again and gently offers his particular counselling services. “Girl, if you feel lonely tonight…”.

We all cool off with ‘Cherry Cola’ and The Devil’s funny choreography. Soon after I enjoy my guilty pleasure: EODM’s cover of Duran Duran’s ‘Save A Prayer’. Sublime.

Rollin’ and tumblin’ with the dirty and sexy ‘Whorehoppin’ (shit, goddamn)’, the anti-hipsters ‘Silverlake’ and the final frantic ‘Got A Woman’.

Suddenly, it starts to rain at The Ritz. Don’t even think that this acid rain is the product of the sweat of all of us. Just don’t. The encore treats us with a Hughes’ solo followed by ‘I Want You So Hard (Boy’s Bad News)’ and ‘Speaking In Tongues’. The show is about to end but the naughty magician has one last trick. Where’s Hughes? There he is, at the balcony, adored by lucky fans, happiness written all over his victorious face. Endless guitar duel between Catching and Hughes.

I dare to say that the lead singer gets a bit emotional every time the crowd shouts out his name. There’s a talk between Homme and Hughes, where the latter tells the time they were supporting Iggy Pop and the Iguana blessed him with an OK thumb-signal behind the speakers. “That was like winning an award”(*). Indeed.

At this point I remember a scene from the recent documentary about Hughes (‘The Redemption of the Devil’), where he wonders what happens when a rock star turns 40 years old. Well, Link Wray (who else?) easily solves the dilemma: “Rock n’ roll has no age. If you’ve got the spirit…” And yes, Reverend Hughes has the spirit, definitely. Amen.

Encore’s corner

Just a quick mention to hot-as-hell White Miles couple. Where does all this sound come from? Just from a guitar and a drum kit? Really? They’re loud and gorgeous and describing them as ‘energetic’ wouldn’t be fair enough. Wild contortion on guitar and thunderous bonfire on drums. I really can’t think of a better warm up for EODM!

EODM  Official | Facebook | Twitter | Youtube

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DLVLRpKtYc

Kurt Vile

 – THE RITZ, MANCHESTER –

Kurt Viles’ music for the gentle outlaw is a soothing painkiller for these days of daze and outrage. Some kind of warm beneath your iced bones.

The Ritz is packed and I can’t help smiling as in a happy-go-lucky TV commercial. It’s just great to see that we all gathered here tonight: those casual, cool couples, that true stalwart of rock, the too enthusiastic (or maybe just drunk) fans, these easy-going two friends having a hilarious argument about Jim Morrison and Coronation Street –(nice talk, guys!) the tallest people in the world who join their group of friends right ahead of you just a second before the show starts. Total eclipse of the stage. Nevermind. For the first time, I’m so glad you’re here.

As shy as an inward-looking teenager, Kurt Vile quietly enters the stage, clad in denim, dark, long hair strategically covering his apparently chronic shyness. I would say that he looks like a quirky Ramone crossed with a twisted hippie. The audience seems already enthralled since the very first banjo chords of the smooth ‘I’m An Outlaw’, from his latest album, B’lieve Me I’m Going Down... A modest anthem for a few renegades. That kind of song.

He changes the banjo for a splendid guitar for the next new tune, ‘Dust Bunnies’. This could be the perfect soundtrack for a road trip to nowhere (well, the whole new album). Driving alone through a disturbingly empty road, without any rush nor worries. The vague horizon as the only certainty to hold on to.

“I wanna put out the cigarette and leave it behind/Hold you real close, take you by the hand/We’ll walk away/Walk away”.

I just don’t get why some fellas from the crowd shout out “Uuh! Uuh!” until the American songwriter answers them with similar “Uuuh!” shouts, as if they’d be talking in some secret code. Followed by a promising intro it comes the restlessly sweet ‘Pretty Pimpin’. “Oh, silly me, that’s just me…”

Then he goes acoustic for ‘Wakin On A Pretty Day’, from the previous album ‘Wakin On A Pretty Daze’. The crowd seems so pleased despite the fact Vile barely interacts with them apart from a couple of “thank you” and some shy declaration of love. I still can’t picture him performing along with Cyndi Lauper, as he has recently announced.

Geez, did he invent the shoegazing thing? Yet, his deep voice filtered through his scruffy hair is the perfect balm for these strange days*.

But let’s go electric once again and commit crime, as Kurt Vile and The Violators persuade us in ‘KV Crimes’. Somewhere between psyche and folk, ‘Wheelhouse’ takes me back to the abovementioned lonely road trip, running through my own thoughts and following nothing but my own signals and rules. Kurt Viles’ songs may not shake you out, but they really help you to keep calm among the chaos.

Vile performs a flawless acoustic solo in ‘Stand Inside’ with which he gets a well-deserved “Oooh!” from the audience. The Violators appear again on stage to join Vile in ‘He’s Allright’, a kind of weird lullaby. “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care, yeaaaahhh”.

After ‘Jesus Fever’ and ‘Runner Ups’ he covers ‘Downbound Train’ by The Boss, but soon after he takes his own ‘Freak Train’: a dreamy, trippy journey full of invigorating “Uh!” –Ok, now I get it. Special mention to the mind-blowing saxo performance by Jesse Trbovich.

Vile leaves ‘Gold Tone’ and ‘Dead Alive’ for the encore. A member of the crowd passionately shouts “I’m so proud of you!”. By the end of the show, he finally seems to have managed to unleash a held back anger.

He says goodbye as timidly as when he entered the stage. I’d dare to say that we all leave the room with certain peace of mind, enhanced by the cheerful ‘Hallelujah’ by Happy Mondays that happily brings us back home.

(*) Encore’s corner: As soon as I enter The Ritz ballroom a shiver runs my frozen body. It’s around 8pm and the room is almost empty. The stage is lit up with the French flag colours and there is a weird, noiseless atmosphere. I read Eagles of Death Metal’s statement on Facebook while I wait for the support band, Lushes, from New York. They’re Joel Myers and James Ardery. “These are strange days, it’s great that you’re here, that you’re not scared”, says the latter. But I’m scared. Yet, we’re here because we came to rock, and that’s we’ll do. This storm-cloud couple plays music for the tormented that perfectly suits the mood. Take the industrial sound of any rough and dusty city, take Joy Division, take Sonic Youth. By the end of their beautifully intense dark performance, The Ritz is almost full of (mostly young) people and hope. I didn’t expect less, Manchester.

Kurt Vile  Official | Facebook | Twitter | Soundcloud

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=659pppwniXA