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Efterklang @ Brighton Pressure Point – Winter ‘07

March 19, 2009 · Leave a Comment

efterklang

ANOTHER LENGTHY INTERVIEW, THIS TIME WITH ADDED VIDEO (!)

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For those uninitiated to Efterklang, they are a Danish five piece that look a lot like them over there. They’re not really a five piece though, given the wealth of collaborating artists and musicians involved in their creative process. In fact, they’re not really your average band. There’s no need for three chord tricks or minor key middle 8’s here. Theirs is an approach, yes, an aesthetic, that invites you into a multi sensory world far removed from our own, comprised of shapes and misshapes, logic and illogic, possibles and impossibles. Efterklang revel in combining the audio and the visual, creating an end product, an experience if you will, that’s immersive and inclusive. And all the time whilst sounding like Heaven’s own marching band. Their new LP, Parades, is a particular case in point. There are a million ways of describing it in light of what it is not (Razorlight, for example), but Wikipedia labels it/them with the rather nifty tag, “Neo-Classical.” This isn’t massively wrong. The record is expansive, majestic, complex and dense, beautiful in its robust layers of sound, with horns, strings and whatnot all fighting for space, and equally in it’s fragility. But enough of this. Over to Casper Clausen, the band’s primary vocalist, with whom I managed make chats before their Brighton Pressure Point show last week.

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How’s the tour been?

It’s been great. Our first proper UK Tour, it’s been so overwhelming, there have been so many big crowds, a lot of people. You’ve been working on Parades for a while now. How does a commitment like that work practically? Do you have your own recording space? Yeah, we’ve had our own studio since we did Tripper. Really, we’ve grown from a studio world. We spend more time in the studio than we spend playing live.

With regards to your new material, how have you gone about preparing your live show? With Parades, you have taken a more organic approach than Tripper. Has it been an easier record to take from the studio to the stage?

Well we built Parades up step by step, like a puzzle, but we’ve never got to play any of these songs live before. So when we prepare them, we have to restructure them. The record feels like a photograph, and we try and rebuild the music as something more simple, but with the same shapes. If we got lost in the process, we went back and looked at the photo. It was actually hard to tell when something was done, but it was actually pretty fun. This time we’ve been working with more composing musicians, more classically trained musicians. It’s been nice working with people that really have these great ideas that fit with the style of the record. Playing Tripper live…a lot of that came from the projections. It was a much more visual experience, so we had to deal with the films, and make music to suit them. We wanted to change that this time, to become a more physical experience.

You’re music is very non-linear and expansive, with no conventional verse-chorus structure. I’ve seen the phrase ‘post-pop’ applied to your work…

It was in a review, yeah. We’ve also been called post-rock! We don’t feel that really applies to us.

There’s a great attention to detail in your music, which seems more in line with classical composition that contemporary songwriting. How do you go about composing? Do you have any rules that you try and stick to?

Not really. We start out just going piece by piece. Something might start with us around a piano, and from there, we find something we like and build it up, getting people to come in, and work on the melodic structures. A lot of stuff we do is based not on one melody lines, but on a few. We do have lots of scoring, so we try and sort out how all these pieces fit together. We want to sound epic, but we don’t want it to be two dimensional…or flat and grey. It’s been a challenge, but a nice one.

It’s been a long time in the making.

One and a half years. It is a long time. It’s the longest we’ve worked on a project. It’s definitely a long time to spend with the same songs. It’s been annoying at some points, because it felt like these songs were talking back when we felt they we finished. We felt that…because we had this puzzle thing going on when we started, trying to build up songs from these small layers, then it could be hard to tell when a song was finished. But we found that sometimes when you had a bit of distance from a song, like standing outside the studio, having a cigarette, a coffee or whatever, and you were hearing it from three rooms away, it would then sound right. ———————————————————————————————————————

This idea of Parades working, in theory and in practice, as a puzzle, is certainly borne out by Efterklang’s live show. At one point, the band, in full choral harmonic flight, come to a halt, standing frozen in position for a good minute. Perhaps the longest silence in the history of live music to not induce a single heckle, they come back, of course, piece by piece, swiftly and easily building into something where there are so many interesting sounds and phrases competing for your attention that it’s almost overwhelming. Yes, it’s potentially austere and overt, but the band, to their credit, temper this by injecting the show with character and humour. Decked out in sparkly shoes, short trousers and shirts, looking not unlike what Liberace may have dreamed up after a night on the meths, the band stamp and convulse unselfconsciously all over the tiny stage, violin bows at a face threatening height. Clausen himself engages constantly with the crowd, chatting and grinning in between bouts of thrashing his drum set up at the front of the stage.

This extra percussion certainly adds to the new material. Mirador in particular sounds like the previously mentioned marching band, its sprinkled pianos and weaving strings gaining poise and pulse in a live setting. It’s in these grander moments when Efterklang possess similarly euphoric qualities to the likes of Wolf Parade or Arcade Fire, bold and dramatic yet warm and inviting. Elsewhere, they display a great intuitiveness, the music slowing down and regressing to their composite parts in an effortless fashion. It’s a testament to the attention to detail in these compositions that the dynamic shifts sound as natural as they do. What with the chimes, rings and melodies, it’s also weirdly festive.

In light of this, material from Tripper perhaps suffers by comparison, not from a lack of quality, but because the more claustrophobic arrangements don’t move you as instantly as the newer songs. The pockets of sound and the nuances of the filtered beats of that record are harder to detect in performance, less dynamic than something like Cutting Ice To Snow. Still beautiful, but in a different, more introverted way.

Efterklang – Step Aside

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You’ve mentioned the idea of it the record being approached conceptually as a puzzle. I’ve seen a video of the artwork being disassembled and reconstructed like a puzzle. This was an approach you decided on beforehand? How closely did you work with the people doing the artwork?

This was the first time we’ve been involved with the artists while doing the music. It was a rush, because they had this other project going on that they had to finish, but we just had to deal with it. We explained how we looked at the music, and how we felt it was structured. What we wanted was to create this otherworldly, very distinct world, something that you couldn’t find anywhere else. I think they did a brilliant job. It was nice to see the finished image. It makes sense to us.

Your music is very cinematic, and lends itself well to visual accompaniment. The Mirador video for example…

That was done by a guy called UFEX. We’re so used to working with other art forms that I don’t think we could make music without doing it (the videos). You’re trying to build it bigger than you are.

Would you ever consider doing something like the Mirador video, but on a larger scale? Like a full audio-visual release as opposed to a CD?

We’ve been dreaming about it! We’ve wanted to do something like this for years, but things cost money, and take time. That would be nice, extremely nice. But when you’ve worked on a record for a year and a half, it’s nice to let it stand on its own somehow. It feels like if we wanted to do a full audio-visual experience, we’d have had to have started it as an audio visual experience. I feel that we would have to collaborate with the other artists, so that it became a 50:50 thing. If we just made a piece of music and then put some visuals to it, your collaborators would be directed by you, whereas it would be preferable to do something together, entirely collaboratively.

It’s quite an undertaking.

It is, and you have to have the right idea. Collaboration is something that’s clearly very important to Efterklang, and the way you work. Is there anyone i particular that, ideally, you’d like to work with? Oh lot’s of people. We meet new people everyday. Yesterday we were in a room with Akron/Family, and they’re so sweet. Being in a band, you’re meeting people all the time, and sometimes it’s quite stressful, because you’re thinking about all these possibilities available to you. It’s the amazing thing about being a musician, to meet and work with other people. Music really is a universal language. You can achieve so much. With all these possibilities, like the internet, collaborate with a guy sitting in America. We’ve built the band up like this, recruiting people as we’ve gone along.

In terms of your influences, I read about this man called Moondog (pseudonym of blind American musician Louis Thomas Hardin, composer, inventor, helmet wearer) who you cited as an influence. What is it about him that appealed to you?

He’s just fucking cool. We were amazed by his music.

Have you ever invented any instruments?

Not so much. We just try and use things we find for the purposes of making music, like a spring, or old tubes. We’re more into using things we find, using raw sounds, to create music, if you could call it that! It’s extremely interesting though.

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That’s it then. As they bring their show to a close, Efterklang exit through the crowd, looking, in their sparkly threads, like a group of prize fighters. It’s all part of the production and the performance of the ‘world’ of the record that makes the band and their music such an involving experience. Go on, invest some time in it, if only to hear what all the fuss about this ‘Neo Classical’ music is. It’s the new grime, I swear.

Parades is out now on The Leaf Label.

(above photo is courtesy of www.myspace.com/efterklang)

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Adam Gnade interview @ Tunbridge Wells Forum

December 15, 2008 · 1 Comment

THIS IS AN INTERVIEW WITH ADAM GNADE. HE IS VERY NICE AND PLAYED ME A SONG.

BUY HIS RECORDS!

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Getting there is the first hurdle. Miles upon miles of rural English country roads, thousands of arched tree’s making for a menacing nocturnal canopy. Worth it though, for the respective sets from Adam Gnade’s and Youthmovies’, the former’s dense narratives as bewitching as ever, and the latter pulverising with their swollen, convoluted epics.

Adam has a new record out soon, called Palaces/Whidbey Island. Youthmovies are releasing their first LP, Good Nature, in the new year. The two of them have just released a collaborative EP, the super lush Honey Slides, and they have been on a joint tour ostensibly to promote said CD. I interviewed Adam after his set on Friday night, and found him to be an interesting and engaging kind of guy. He even shows us a pile of ravaged books he picked up earlier in the day, including one he bought for Andrew from Youthmovies, which is pretty sweet. The things below are everything else that was said.

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So how’s the tour been going to this point?

It’s been pretty good so far. We’ve had a couple of shows that were really weird or bad, that we shouldn’t have done, shows that were just ridiculous.

How so?

We played at this one venue, in a small town where no one lives I guess. We get to the venue and it’s like this auditorium, this huge fucking venue, and they have a smoke machine already going, and this huge lighting set up. We go backstage, and it’s this massive area just for us, with piles of booze. They gave us a lot of money to play and 5 people showed up. And they were there just to watch a movie that was playing downstairs. So we went crazy and turned it into a weird New Year’s Eve party. We found all these balloons and covered the stage with them and a bunch of toilet paper. It was just fucking weird. We sang happy birthday, and we were lying to everyone…

It was no-one’s birthday was it.

No! We lied to everyone, said the guy from Jonquil had had a baby. It was great.

How are you finding the English audiences? With the exception of the small ones?

Yeah, they’ve been really good so far. Well, we played Scotland and that wasn’t so good. I don’t think Scotland like me very much. but English audiences so far have been pretty good.

You’re playing a song with Youthmovies later…?

Yeah, we’ll be finishing the set with Honey Slides, a dance song. We did it last night in Kingston, and we all got really fucked up. I ended up climbing onto the barrier, and security guards were grabbing me, and I fell into the audience (laughs), and then Andrew (Mears, Youthmovies singer) jumped into the audience. I think some girl broke her arm. Graham from Youthmovies did a flip, and landed on her. He’s a killer.

Will he be busting any of that out tonight?

The works! The lot. Even though he feels really bad.

So the Youthmovies EP, who initiated that?

I have NO idea. We toured last year and Drowned In Sound set it up. We didn’t know each other, but just kind of got together, and (Youthmovies’ guitarist) Al came up with the idea. We had the day off, so we recorded two songs really fast, and it was gonna be a 7″, and then for whatever reason it ended up being a 5 song record. I recorded the other songs at my house.

How did you find that way of working? Writing and recording words for music you couldn’t hear?

Yeah, it’s weird. I recorded three sets of lyrics and…it’s a lot more freeform than the two songs we recorded together.

It works really well, given that you didn’t know each other before. It seems like a good match.

It could have been horrible. I mean I was really worried, ‘cos the chances of us getting along as well as we did were pretty slim

It seems a lot more direct than anything you or they have ever done.

Yeah, the two tracks we did in the studio are like, some of my favourite stuff that we’ve ever done. They have a lot of immediacy…ah it feels really bad to say shit about your own songs. They feel a lot more natural, and it just seems like those two songs work really well. The other ones are really cool but I think those two we did together…maybe because we were locked in a van for two weeks together and we just bonded really well (laughs).

I really like the third song, “We Walk Unknowing In The Cross Hairs”.

Oh yeah. I haven’t heard the record yet. I mean, I’ve heard the rough mixes and stuff, but I just got over here and haven’t had a chance to listen to it. It feels bad listening to it in front of other people, like, “Come on, let’s listen to our record! We rock!”

Yeah, it’s kind of something you want to do on your own.

Oh yeah (laughs).

I wanted to talk about your writing. You’ve said about your lyrics, that they come from prose, not spoken word or poetry. Who influences you as an author?

Oh man. That’s tough. Uh, I read a lot. I like Saul Bellow a lot, especially “The Adventures Of Augie March” and Steinbeck, just ‘cos I grew up on the West Coast, so that’s almost a cultural thing. Hemingway too, he’s pretty good. I’ve been reading Hemingway for years, and it finally clicked in with me like how good he is.

What is it about Hemingway that you like?

It’s just…he knows what not to say. It’s kind of like…his sentences are really sparse, but it’s more than that. He’ll describe something, like this wall or something, but the things he leaves out are the things he knows people are gonna fill in. Maybe that’s like a cultural thing, where he knows Americans will fill that in and so on. I don’t if that’s actually how he worked, but he’ll describe a setting in a way that makes your brain do all the work, and you have this five word sentence about this place that he’s at and it’s vivid as hell, y’know, it’s really clear. He kind of has this reputation as being a thug, but I think he’s a lot smarter than people thought.

I don’t think I’ve ever read a modern author, not that they’re bad. There’s just so much stuff out there. Going to that book store was amazing. There was all this Kipling and Dickens and Twain and stuff, and it would take me my entire life to read it all, and it’s all a lot better than I know a lot of contemporary stuff is.

Have you been indulging in more English Literature while you’ve been over here?

(pause) No (laughs). I didn’t bring any books. Last time I didn’t read at all ‘cos we were raising hell the entire time, but we’ve been here for so long that eveyone’s starting to acquire their old hobbies back. And I’ve been freaking out, reading the NME, or the Gideon Bible in the hotel rooms.

Whoa. That’s a really unholy mixture. What are your opinions on the NME?

Oh…so much hype y’know? Like, I like the fact that there’s a lot of positive stuff, because I have a hard time dealing with criticism, where writers think they have to say something positive and negative to have a valid opinion. But the NME is kind of ultra positive. I think it’s too much.

It’s positive perhaps about the wrong things, or positive about things for the wrong reasons. …like always claiming something defines something.

Like Klaxons, the voice of a generation. Did you see that issue with them in all their crazy make up?

No. That issue was shrinkwrapped. I can only read it if it isn’t.

That’s the way to do it. I feel bad too, ‘cos they have like 10 bands in it, two stories on Klaxons, a little blurb on Klaxons, on the back cover will be Klaxons. It’s kinda cool, ‘cos a lot of our friends in the Youthmovies circle are doing well with the NME, like Foals. They’ve been covering them a lot lately but, fuck man…

It’s what they ascribe to the music, that it is something beyond what it is, beyond being a piece of music, like everything is a huge cultural event.

It’s gonna change everything! Y’know, music’s amazing and it gives you a lot of openings, but in the end, art is so secondary to so many other things, like having actual experiences in the world, having human interactions. I kind of wish it was back like how it was with Shakespeare, when he would write about the actors coming to the city, and they would be considered scum. People wouldn’t be like, “Oh what does the artist have to say about politics! What does the artist have to say about the grand cultural scheme!” I mean, fuck, it’s just a song.

Back to the lyrical thing, I read that your prose is never fiction, that it’s all based on real experiences. Does that apply to the novels you have coming out?

Yeah, they’re all… well there’s a lot of stuff that I don’t really want to admit is real, but I can’t really not write non-fiction, ‘cos there’s so many good things to say about things that have actually happened.

I wrote a science fiction novel! Last summer, when I was really bored and living in the south..the southern united states man, it’s so hot, and I didn’t have anything to do but sit around waiting for my first tour to start, so I wrote this psychedelic science fiction novel. It was so bad.

So it won’t be seeing a commercial release?

Oh I burned it (I laugh, like a fool). I’ve been writing books since I was really young and that’s kind of what I’ve done, burned every manuscript until I’ve felt like it was ready. So the book that’s coming out at Christmas, I felt that was the first one that was ok.

You sound like quite a perfectionist…

Oh I don’t know about that, I just don’t want any shit to come out.

So the science fiction novel. Shall we go there?

(laughs) It was like x-rated, psychedelic, surrealistic…it was just horrible.

It sounds like Scientology, like those novels…

Like Dianetics?

(cue a tangent about Scientology, specifically it’s geographical proximity to our current location i.e. the worldwide centre of it being just down the road. This has been deleted for reasons of narrative cohesion, and for the fact that THEY MIGHT BE READING THIS.)

Yeah, I’m totally obsessed with cult religions, my Mum was in one. Well kind of a cult religion, not as crazy as Scientology.

What was it called?

The 7th Day Adventists. It’s like a new religion that came out in 50’s, with all this bullshit connected to aliens. Like vaguely Mormonist things, but not polygamy, cos that would be kind of cool. I just find cult religions so interesting. There are so many different sects, like so many that people don’t know about. There’s this part of the Catholic church called the Polmarian’s (sic?). It’s where everything is just really strict and puritanical…this isn’t a really good story ‘cos I can’t remember any of the details.

That’s ok, this is like a whole other conversation that we could theorise on for hours and hours. Back to the novels, do they continue the themes and characters from the last record?

Yeah definitely, all the characters from the records…it’s almost not cool to call them characters cos they’re barely referred to, they’re characters as much as any song has characters, names, people and stuff like that…but a lot of the stories and characters are continued. A lot of songs came from prose stories. Some of those songs are like…a paragraph of prose story and then there’s like 15 more pages about that character. It’s all about the same universal characters and themes, and things that I kind of want to say.

What do you want to achieve as a writer of prose? Where do you see this going?

That’s a good question. I guess I just want to do something I’m proud of and …with the book, create something I feel that stands on its own that I really believe in, even if nobody reads it ever again. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that I’m completely 100% proud of that I can sit on the shelf and say, “that’s a permanent thing,” and er, that’s kind of the main thing. I grew up being incredibly…not “inspired by,” ‘cos that’s a cheesy thing, but a lot of the stuff I read when I was a kid…I guess this is pretty common, like everybody does this…it kind of kept me alive, kept me going. Reading certain people helped pull me through, and I feel it would be a good thing to make people feel a little less alone.

Certain things that I’ve experienced have made me feel that…maybe I’m not as a crazy as I seem to think, that there’s other people doing things like this. I’ve always wanted to do what my heroes did for me.

A lot of people I know have a hard time with life. I mean, I’ve had a rough go of it, not because my life is hard but because I’ve got bad wiring in my brain or whatever, and there were certain things that kept me from not killing myself, or on the other side of things, not taking a 9 to 5 job that would crush my spirit. It’s just about having a reason to carry on, and even if you can do that for one person then that’s a noble thing.

That’s a wonderful thing to aspire to. With the new record, you seem to have consciously moved away from the starker, barer sound of the last record. Was there any event that presaged that?

Yeah, I’ve always done these records for a group of friends, ‘cos I didn’t think anyone else would really give a shit. I did Run, Hide, Retreat, Surrender because I was in a really dark place and I really felt that this was the end, like I was slipping into some kind of…I don’t know. I needed to do something….to not let go. I tried anti-depressants, partying really hard, traveling all over the country…and all these different things, and just nothing was working and I was getting sadder and sadder and I didn’t know why. There was no reason whatsoever, I had an ok life, but I was getting really bad, so I decided if I could do this record about all this stuff that maybe I could heal from it a little bit, and for the first time in my life…I mean I’ve never been happy, I’ve never, ever been happy…but I’ve found a place where I can be. I mean, I keep slipping back into it, like every few months, something just pisses me off and I get really hopeless again, but it’s not as bad as it used to be. Like what we were talking about earlier, I wanted to do stuff that was a little more positive to tell people that things aren’t always gonna be that bad. All the new songs are like pep talks for people that I knew that weren’t doing so well. For whatever reason I have friends and people around me that really have a hard time, and it’s really tough to see them deal with life so badly, so all of the songs on Palaces are pep talks, to try to help…I don’t know if it even articulates that way, ‘cos it’s so personal that it might not seem like it is, but that’s the way it is.

Would you say they were easier to write and record than Run, Hide, Retreat, Surrender?

It was completely natural. It felt like the thing that I needed to be doing. But the last record was like improv. We recorded it in a week or something, and we were all really, really drunk and unhappy. I didn’t play any music on it, I was too fucked up, and I was just like “play this!” and we tried to work it out. But these songs actually feel good to play. I can’t listen to Run, Hide, Retreat, Surrender, I can’t play any of those songs live. It just feels like listening to my own requiem or something (laughs). If that’s the right word.

So what are your plans post-Palaces? Where’s the rest of your year headed?

Well we’ve got a couple of weeks left on this tour. Me and one of the guys from the band Album Leaf were talking about doing a solo tour of California, but that’ll probably be it for a while. I have another book that I want to write. I’m trying to do one a year for the publisher that I have. So I’ll probably do that twelve hours a day for the next year, and that’s pretty much it for now.

Do you see music as a finite thing? Do you see yourself continuing more as a writer/author?

Yeah, that’ll be the thing I always fall back on. I mean, from the purely financial side of like feeding myself, it probably works better and has more of a shelf life, and I’ve been doing it for a long time. I’ve kind of had the feeling all along that when I make a record that I really like I’ll probably stop, cos I think the style I do, the talking songs, like I’ve never felt that it’s right. I just think that as soon as I figure out my shit and record a record that is completely done, I’ll probably finish it. I’ll probably keep playing it for myself, but not taking up so much of my fucking life! (laughs). I’ve been on tour all year man. It can be wearing.

You can call it fiction, but that’s my real true love, trying to come up with something as good as one of the people that I really love. I mean, I like the book I’ve got coming out but it’s not even near ready. I kind of look forward to being old and finally figuring out my shit. I mean, Henry Miller lived forever, and he wrote some amazing stuff in his twilight years, and I kind of like that idea. I mean, I never thought I’d live as long as I have, I always figured I’d be dead by 20 or something (laughs). Sometimes things are really shitty and hard but I think I’ll live as long as my health sustains me. I like that a lot, and I want to be writing books for the rest of my life.

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And that’s that. Adam also contributed a great performance of his song “We Live Nowhere, And Know No-one,” to this little project-a-rama, the original of which is available on his mini album Shout The Rafters Down! which was released last year as a digital download by Drowned In Sound. Listen to it, in all it’s brittle glory, there.

I also managed to get my sticky mitts on a copy of the new Adam Gnade/David Christian record. More info on that, and probably details about how to buy it from Bad Drone Media. I’ll review it sometime, should that be of interest to anyone, but not for a while, cos I want to live with it for a bit, rather than blahhing out thoughts on it without due consideration. It sounds like something that deserves real attention. It looks proper lovely as well.

That’s all for now. G’nite.

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Kitchen Motors tour – 28.11.06

September 30, 2008 · Leave a Comment

INSANELY LONG INTERVIEW/LIVE REVIEW. THIS WAS THE FIRST ‘PROPER’ INTERVIEW I EVER ‘CONDUCTED’. IT SHOWS. ON ACCOUNT OF MY PROFOUND NERVOUSNESS, THIS RAMBLES SOMEWHAT. HOPEFULLY THIS MANIFESTS ITSELF AS AN ENDEARING TIC, BUT POSSIBLY NOT.

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Kitchen Motors Tour

- Johann Johannsson, Hilmar Jensson

+ Kira Kira

28.11.06 @ Komedia, Brighton

 

Iceland then, that most generous producer of the glacial and the ethereal, the ambitious and the beautiful. Called home by Bjork, Mum, Sigur Ros and Magnús Scheving (creator of Lazy Town!), the place has once more offered up an embarrassment of riches for the ears. And in this case, the eyes, but sadly not the nose.

For the uninitiated, Kitchen Motors is the banner under which some of Iceland’s most bestest and talented musicians and artists congregate to operate as a sort of ongoing cross media ensemble. The natty little leaflet slash guide available at the venue says as much; “a collective with a reputation for cross-art chemistry and surreal charm.” To look at the format of the show, this would be appear to be true; two hours of uninterrupted music, moving seamlessly between solo shows and band pieces, all backed by eerie, fuzzy projections and films. They have toured over here before when, I am told, Kira Kira (a solo artist who “lived in a rice field in Japan for three months, thinking.”) played with a puppet show. The project is headed benevolently by the people known as Hilmar Jensson (founder member and guitar whiz), Kira, and one Johann Johannsson, fellow founder member and the man responsible for this year’s quite peculiar and really quite sublime ‘IBM 1401, A User’s Manual’ LP, which the tour ostensibly is in support of. I get a chance to catch up with these musical mischief makers on a horrifically rainy night in Brighton, before their show at the Komedia. They have good tea there.

Hilmar and Kira are lovely and forthcoming, whilst Johan seems somewhat wary. This may be something to do with the phrasing of my first question essentially insinuating that all Icelandic bands sound the same. When pressed on the idea that Icelandic music seems to share a uniting theme, in its focus on the ambient and the majestic, he says “that’s a generalisation I think. A lot of people start saying it’s the landscape, that it’s the grand, grandiose mountains and these deserted landscapes. But I think there are scenes in different countries that have a strong identity, like German music in the early 70’s, like Krautrock. With Can, Neu!, Kraftwerk and lots of electronic musicians, they all had separate identities but it was easy to put them together in that they were all German.”

Which is fair enough. He goes on to say “I think it’s very natural and very normal that there are people influencing each other and there is a dynamic going on. I think that happens a lot, but I also think that most Icelandic bands are extremely individual, they have strong individual voices.”

Hilmar elaborates, “But at the same time, all this music hasn’t just shot up out of the ground somehow. It uses a lot of influences from England, all these bands that have strong influential voices.” Johannsson agrees, “Like a lot of the electronic scene, like Warp (records).”

What Warp artists in particular? “In Iceland it would be things like Aphex Twin.” This comes as something of a surprise, since terrifying, head eating bleep core is not something in abundance on the Kitchen Motors’ show. A more realistic point of comparison that I offer is Bjork, since she too has attempted to explore the relationship, both musically and thematically, between man and machine in her work, a principle theme of ‘IBM 1401′. A lot of her music attempts to bridge the gap between the mechanical and the organic, something apparent in both Johannsson and Kira’s solo work. “Bjork is our mountain,” Johannsson says, half joking. “In Iceland, we don’t have a long history of music or culture, unlike other countries that have hundreds of years of history and artistic evolution. All the great musicians and artists in Iceland all came out of the twentieth century. In that sense, there isn’t anything to aim for, no peaks to aspire to. We still consider Bjork an inspiration, we’re just more influenced by Warp artists.”

Do you know what it is about Iceland that provokes all this music that is so against trends in other countries?

Hilmar: “The thing about Iceland that is different to other places is the fact that it is so extremely small, so that everyone can interact on a different level than they would in bigger cities In New York or London or those places, there is an extreme separation between genres. if you were someone who plays in a musical, you’re not going to work with anyone that’s doing electronica, whereas in Iceland it’s too small a community for people to be really separated, that’s one of the beauties of being there, is that you get…”

Johann: “…there’s more interaction between the different scenes…”

Hilmar: “…and we have totally exploited that fact as Kitchen Motors. That we can get anybody to perform with anybody.”

Johan: “I think that’s a survival reflex also. It has to be collaborative for it to survive.”

It’s this sense of a genuine musical community that sets Kitchen Motors apart from mostly everyone. There are many, many bands in this country that operate on similar principles, keeping things independent and getting as many like minded people together as possible, but few scenes seem to share the level of intimacy or the unpretentious work ethic of Kitchen Motors’. To them, the individuals behind the music are often wilfully obscured simply by the numbers involved. The ‘star’ is taken out of the equation, and all that is left is the music, the work. There is also a degree of artistic freedom that they seem intent on achieving.

Kira: “It’s like a little laboratory, or a playground where it’s easy to get these gransiose, sometimes quite foolhardy ideas. And no matter how ridiculous or far fetched the idea is, the environment is built that way to make things happen, so we can try out a lot of different things, crazy things.”

These crazy things are manifested to wonderful effect during the show itself. But how do you begin to describe the music that Kitchen Motors’ produce? It feels heretical to draw comparisons with other western musicians. Having said that, a woman sat next to me during the show whispers conspiratorially in my ear that it sounds a lot like Michael Nyman. I say something along the lines, “Yeah! Freakin totally!” in spite of having no idea who Michael Nyman is. It turns out (i.e. Wikipedia says), that Nyman is a minimalist composer, famed for his orchestral works. This is an apt comparison. The Kitchen Motors’ show is stately and slow building, working mainly around the themes of delicacy and gradual elaboration. The show starts with a lone cellist, looping her instrument through a laptop. Other musicians join, further string players and keyboardists. Eventually, Hilmar appears, his stunning guitar lifting and dropping and weaving through the tapestry. No one instrument or melody overrides another. That, my dears, would be too crass. Further pieces herald a wonderfully pulsing backbeat. The ambience and delicacy is reigned in, and the stage begins to thump to dramatic builds and flourishes. The string section begins to sound remarkably celtic. On the screen a bird pecks at invisible worms.

So far, so gorgeous. Kira Kira’s set however, flirts devilishly with what could be termed madness, if madness is singing into what appears to be an electronic Toblerone. There is also that feeling of child like exploration that only Iceland seems capable of producing, and of the traditional being forced through the mechanical jaws of the modern. Her laptop spews out sparse and twitchy beats, while she toys with the technological jumble sale in front of her. She sings beautifully, and then distorts her vocals beyond recognition, while wind up toys tinker away, filtering through the PA with a click and a clack. Wonderfully confusing, restraint tossed away, the set makes an intriguinly fractured counterpoint to the symphonic nature of what went before.

The stage gradually fills before Johann Johannsson enters, dressed sombrely in a black suit. The ensemble then proceeds to flesh out the songs from ‘IBM 1401′ in glorious fashion, the burbling, polyphonic keyboards meshing with the exquisite string arrangements to hypnotic effect. Here, the themes of the album are made flesh, the organic bringing out the warmth in the mechanical and vice versa, whilst gunshot drums scatter about in the background. It’s a wonder as to how such ambitious and epic music can be kept understated, free of bombast, but it is and it works. After two hours of this melodic sprawl, the audience is pretty much transfixed. Kitchen Motors’ “surreal charm” is as searching as it is bewitching, much like the lone man projected onto the screens, swiping away at a barren landscape with a stick.

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Badly Drawn Boy – 05.11.06

September 8, 2008 · Leave a Comment

 

ANOTHER LIVE REVIEW. THIS WAS A TOUGH ONE

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Badly Drawn Boy w/ Isobel Campbell

05.11.06 @ Bloomsbury Ballroom

 

After having my organisational skills criticised for many years, the events of this night come as a grinding inevitability. I away from my chambers in the early evening to see Isobel Campbell, Scottish folk songstress, ex of Belle and Sebastian, bosom buddy of “Laughing” Mark Lanegan, currently touring her self proclaimed “witchy” solo album. I am unaware however, that Campbell is not, not, the headline act. So when I arrive, somewhere around 25 minutes after she has finished her support slot, I am left desolate and empty. But who is the headliner? I ask to the possibly quite amused venue staff. Why young rascal, ‘tis Badly Drawn Boy of course, they don’t really answer. I’ve never seen him before. And he certainly hasn’t seen me, so this will be a new experience for us both.

So Badly Drawn Boy then. Is it a niche or is it a rut? The man who was once feted as the great white hope of British music, with his quirky songs and air of curiosity, now delivers, and has done for a good three albums, straight, four square, funkless pop rock with lyrics concerned, almost unwaveringly, with relationshipzzzz. Initially, it’s all ok. With a four piece band behind him, the strong instrumental melodies and classic rock derived arrangements come across well. This is helped by the venue’s generous sound, the pool of clean guitars and piano like aural milk, the new album’s ‘The Long Way Round’ being a prime example of the virtues of this. But after say, fifteen minutes, this tires. For a man who first broke on the perceived strength of his songwriting, and on the back of years of received wisdom in the media about the artistic credibility of solo performers, the man’s songs are resolutely uninspiring. There is the odd riff, but nothing too rocky. There are melodies too, obviously, but nothing too poppy. Also, despite the big themes the songs tackle (one song is introduced as being inspired by the death of a friend), the music never changes to fit, the author emotionally monotone.

What’s most disappointing though is seeing what a great performer Gough is, regardless of what he is playing. He stops and restarts songs, delivers sandpaper dry monologues, and puts down the good natured hecklers with humour and sass. During set closer ‘You Were Right’, a fluffed chord is a good excuse for a crashing, dissonant crescendo, before slipping straight back into the sweeter than Refreshers cake verse. The acoustic section of the show also serves to highlight Gough’s way with a crowd, getting them to provide a syncopated handclap backing for set highlight ‘Disillusionment’. The lasting impression however, is not of a quirky solo artist smothered by the constraints of a band. It is more like that of an artist making Sunday Times music but without a Sunday Times audience.

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Small Town America All Dayer – 16.09.06

August 26, 2008 · Leave a Comment

WE’RE OUT OF THE SEREN WOODS NOW. THIS IS A LIVE REVIEW OF THE TITULAR EVENT FOR MAPS MAGAZINE. MAKE YOURSELF A CUPPA, IT’S A LONG ‘UN.

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Small Town America All-Dayer
16.09.06 @ 93 Feet East, Shoreditch

The Small Town America All Dayer is, for the uninitiated, the banner under which a number of fledgling musical organisations arrange for a number of bands and acts to get together and play their music, for the aid of a worthy cause. Y’know, like Live 8. “For charity!?” you’re probably not crying out. “That means a French and Saunders special and the potential for someone off of Big Brother to inadvertently reveal their genitalia! All in the name of A Good Cause!” Well fear not, for such are the musical riches on offer that not only do you feel even better and noble for being here, but you can actually get a bit of exercise from having to dash from crowded, sweaty room to crowded, sweatier room. If Children In Need were this fun, we’d all be lining up to feed Wogan the Baileys that he so craves. On with the show.

On account of poor time keeping and not being scene enough to live in London, we arrive late, meaning we miss The Retro Spankees and Leila Zerai, which I obviously feel quite bad about. Punishment arrives in the form of boy-girl duo Tigerforce. Not because they are bad, but because they are so freakishly, unbelievably noisy that I assume this is karma catching up with me. On record, their songs are fairly cute and endearing. Live, they make no such concessions. They are vicious and direct, their tag team vocals a whir of yelps and yowls, their twin guitars ugly and distorted. There are samples too, blasted, apparently, from a mini disc player. Near the end, the spoken word intro to James Browns’ ‘Sex Machine’ is audible, shortly before Tigerforce launch into their set closer, all trashy hip hop beats and a toy drum kit. It’s great, it’s energetic and it’s addictive. And danceable, to a fashion. Lordy, what if this is the sex funk of the new millennium? If it is, expect more casual promiscuity than you, your mum, and your mum, can shake a leash at.

Hormones racing, it’s perhaps best to escape the understandably over heating room for the relatively arctic Main Stage, where Dead! Dead! Dead! are making some noise. Much like Tigerforce, their performance is heavy on energy, all twitchy heads and jerky hips, but their music is a different kettle of marine life. More dynamic, theirs is to be more controlled. The low key, loose and jazzy ambience of one number soon gives way to a joyous, spazzy stomp topped off by Brian McFadden a-like singer Matt Canning’s throaty bark. Which is all good stuff, but there’s something strange brewing on the second stage.

So I don’t really like Jetplane Landing that much. And with that I approach Andrew Ferris’ solo set with a degree of confusion and fear. Can righteous post hardcore work in such a setting? And since I’m stuck right at the front, will I be the victim of one of his visceral rants if I accidentally look disinterested? His first song doesn’t really alleviate my fears, a tiny drum machine on a music stand (!) providing a big, glam and vaguely inappropriate disco beat that never alters throughout the duration of the song. I look panicky. Has he noticed? Do I try and leave? What’s on next door? Is it lunch time? But then, it all goes right. Ferris ditches the drum machine, and belts out some Jetplane material, the previously concealed (to me, anyway) melodic heart of the songs being allowed to breath in this environment. The audience sings along, and all is well, the set growing into an unexpected highlight. Ferris is an engaging performer, so much so that he makes it perfectly acceptable for white men to cover Public Enemy, as he does to great effect when accompanied only by the drum machine on Bring The Noise. He then plays ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. Apparently post hardcore singers can too, and thus, I leave for Dartz!’s set somewhat illuminated.

I leave Dartz!’s set shortly afterwards. They’re not terrible, silly, they just sound an awful lot like ¡Forward, Russia! minus the breathlessness. That said, the hand clap breakdown that sees the drummer come to the front of the stage half way through one song is great, and makes me want to jump up and down in a manner not suited to four o’clock in the afternoon.

Back on the second stage, one man electro pop freak show Pagan Wanderer Lu is suffering in the stifling heat. Technical problems mar opening song ‘The Memorial Hall’, its frantic tempo shift somewhat hindered by the poor volume. After this however, it seems plain sailing. Lu’s songwriting is a joyous thing, playful melody after playful melody tempered by an arch lyricism, evidenced by the likes of ‘Kofi Annan On Tv’. The instrumentation, the stinging guitar, crashing keyboards and freaky, mutated effects, all sound like the product of a number of wide eyed, e-number ridden children re-writing some mouthy folk songs. Our New Hospital Sucks is a particularly snotty, agitated highlight.

Frank Turner must be used to this by now. The ex of Million Dead frontman seems to have played so many shows in his current country/folk singer guise that it’s amazing he can muster the energy he does. Today’s set is as charismatic and rousing as is to be expected, Turner anecdoting the crowd silly, before rattling off a mixture of the by turns belligerent and unguarded songs that are set for release towards the end of the year. There are no covers and no Million Dead tunes, yet it’s hard to begrudge him casting off this crutch. As fun as his Chris T-T cover is, perhaps it was an act of kindness and/or penitence that he has stopped playing it, since the former must be chewing on his hairshirt at how Turner has taken this sort of thing and gained/maintained a loyal audience. ‘Worse Things Happen At Sea’ is delivered full on, Turner’s vocals growing to an abrasive holler, while new-ish song ‘The Ballad Of Me And My Friends’ is a wry, bittersweet lament for those directionless sorts who know nothing other than music. Tasty.

Apparently one of Frank Turner’s favourite bands are Oppenheimer. Which is odd, as their relentlessly uptempo dream pop seems at odds with all things hardcore. Regardless, they are still a charming little trifle of music, the duo consisting of singing drummer Shaun and guitar, keyboard and effects man Rocky. The latter rocks the sort of emo fringe that Wogan certainly wouldn’t approve of, but would have a grudging respect for. He would probably also have a certain interest in their music, which is more richly layered than you’d expect from a two piece, the aural equivalent of a Bailey’s milkshake. Despite this, the insistently four square drums become wearying, the winsome melodies not enough to prevent the onset of itchy feet. Indeed, Wogan has little time for twee. And this really is twee. Twee on toast, with a gentle amount of marmalade.

Upon returning to the second stage, I am presented with a problem. I Was A Cub Scout have their drum kit set up in the middle of the audience. This reduces space in an already cramped room. I am not what you’d call gangly, so for the purposes of getting a decent view, I sit on the bar. After IWACS start playing, I am presented with another problem; I need to dance, something difficult to achieve whilst seated. Do I forfeit my space, and run the risk of “shaking” my “thing” amongst reluctant, scornful audience members? No. I opt in the end for an undignified hip wiggle from on the bar. But it’s worth it, because IWACS are ace. It works thus; the singer triggers all manner of synth based delay and reverb soaked loops, all wash and ambience. This is then underpinned by the drummer’s thunderous accompaniment, like a picture of some hazy, far away land being thrown onto a rush hour motorway. The guitar, when there is guitar, is an equal rush of noise. When there are vocals, they are delivered sweet and emotive, without (obviously) sounding like Chris Martin. At one point, the singer jumps across to the drum kit to assist in a percussive breakdown that drowns out even Blood Red Shoes next door, the female contingent of which, we are informed by the doe eyed IWACS frontman, has very nice teeth. This is obviously great. Young love is a wonderful thing. But it doesn’t stop IWACS from potentially stealing the day from the much hyped sex grunge duo.

So it’s quite late in the day now. I’m hungry and thirsty, so we duck out for a while to nourish ourselves before the post-rock a-rama that 65DaysOfStatic’s set will undoubtedly be. This is no disrespect to Scanners and Vatican DC, but the programme’s assessment of their influences (Joy Division and The Dead Kennedys respectively) doesn’t bring any exciting light to my black little heart. Of course, I was wrong about Andrew Ferris, so check out their Myspace’s anyway. If you don’t like what you hear, kid yourself that at least you listenened for charity.

65daysofstatic are, for the blissfully unaware, a very serious band. They look serious, they play serious. Vicious twitching and sweaty brows. They also whip up a fantastic, heartless noise. Hearing this music produced in a live setting is impressive in itself, great torrents of sturm and drang pouring forth seamlessly and violently, but it becomes repetitive unnervingly quickly. The like of ‘Radio Protector’ and ‘Retreat! Retreat!’ have their intricacies, nuances and melodies (such as they are), but everything builds to the same darkly euphoric crescendo as the song before and after. A shame, since there is so much potential for a band of this obvious calibre. The world does need an intense, glitchy band like 65dos, but until their sonic ambition is matched by their songwriting ability, they will continue to be a thrilling, unsatisfying experience.

That’s it. Time to go home. It’s been a lovely day, and while Wogan may not need sleep, we certainly do. See you next year.

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OutKast – Miss Jackson

August 22, 2008 · Leave a Comment

STEPPING BACKWARDS IN TIME, THIS IS FROM A VALENTINE’S THEMED ISSUE OF SEREN. THE THEME, IT WOULD SEEM, BEING LOVE SONGS.

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OutKast – Miss Jackson

As apologies go, it’s better than chocolates, or simply leaving the country. A singing owl helps Andre 3000 make amends with both his former ladyfriend, and, more importantly, her mother. It’s a surprisingly sincere, humble owl, one that inspires Big Boi to intone that he will let her know her grandchild “is a baby, not a paycheck.” Gorgeous, layered, weird soul music, essentially a love song and an apology directed to the one person largely ignored by love songs and apologies. Even by the time of the harmonising dogs, you’re sold. Andre even says that he wishes he were a magician. If you can say sorry a trillion times, you probably already are.

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Chris Morris – Mother Banger

August 21, 2008 · Leave a Comment

THIS WAS FOR A MOTHER’S DAY THEMED ISSUE OF SEREN, WHEREIN VARIOUS WRITERS CONTRIBUTED SHORT PIECES ON MATERNALLY RELATED MEDIA. TONGUE FULLY IN CHEEK, THIS WAS MY EFFORT.

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Chris Morris – Mother Banger

A tender ode to the matriarch. A loving verse, a kind word. The mother figure is celebrated and deified, an unbeatable, incorruptible form providing solace and support, tea spillage and use of the word “pantaloons” not withstanding. She doesn’t even mind the Hispanic section, or the rather loud guitars. But why oh why did she “gum” a “weapon?” What does it even mean? Firearms aren’t common place in the British nuclear family surely?  Think you’ll sneak guns into our pantries do you Morris? You can’t. You don’t have our address. Bet you don’t even have a mother. Nonsense.

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Broken Social Scene – Broken Social Scene

August 20, 2008 · Leave a Comment

PUBLISHED IN SEREN, AUTUMN 2006

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Broken Social Scene – Broken Social Scene

They’re Canadian in 2006, which is akin to being Scouse in 1966, or white in 1866. In addition to this, their nationality also brings with it the endearing notion of being the latest band of quirk pop exporting eccentrics to attempt to banish forever the memory of perennial guitar botherer Bryan Adams. Or, perhaps more deservedly, Celine Dion. The multi limbed Broken Social Scene (estimates put their member quota somewhere between 10 and 20) self titled third album mines a similar euphoric, clap your hands say fuck yeah vein to Arcade Fire, whilst not being as directly pop as that most obvious contemporary. Despite similarities to the latter, in their chaotic whirlwind of instrumentation and uplifting musical aesthetic, BSS possess a sweeping, textured ambience more in common with Mew’s mellower moments, Sigur Ros and, um, My Vitriol. Single ‘7/4 (Shoreline)’ is a brilliant encapsulation of the album, its wrong footed beat, dreamy vocals and punch the air horn section making it the perfect accompaniment to some serious shape throwing or quiet emo-centric contemplation, this latter theme continued by the more outwardly ambient ‘Finish Your Collapse And Stay For Breakfast’ and ‘Major Label Debut’. It also takes a special kind of band to be able to throw a white boy rap into the mix, as BSS do on ‘Windsurfing Nation’, and not be instantly hateable. But the success of this cheekiness is another able summary of the album’s attributes; it manages to be eclectic and fun, yet never disposable or throwaway. Which is all good, unless you have a penchance for music a little less indie, a little more ‘Run To You’. If this is the case, these horns probably aren’t for you.

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White Rose Movement – Kick

August 19, 2008 · Leave a Comment

THE FIRST MUSIC REVIEW I’M HOSTING HERE. SUBJECT WISE, IT’S FAIRLY INAUSPICIOUS.

FIRST PUBLISHED IN SEREN, AUTUMN 2006

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White Rose Movement – Kick

So I didn’t get to review the Mystery Jets album. I end up with WhRoMo instead. And there we are, off to an uneasy start. But objectivity and reviewing records are handsome bedfellows, so I’ll try to get over the bitter pangs of jealousy. White Rose Movement are a fairly new band (formed in 2002), and ‘Kick’ is their new record, their first. They are produced by the still newish Paul Epworth, who, to a certain type of music fan, is something of a genius, having done some stuff on the sound desk for Bloc Party, The Rakes and Plan B. With White Rose Movement, his reputation for producing clean, dancey, 80’s indie-wards gazing music remains intact, the band cribbing all sorts of new wave moves from their forebears. Joy Division AND New Order’s basslines, Depeche Mode’s synths, The Cure’s strangulated vocals and The Rapture’s percussion (minus saucy cowbells) all come together in fashionable harmony to create what, on paper, is indie dance floor nirvana. Yet the clinical, precise nature of this mix leaves the album forever at arms length, a cold creation, something that takes itself far too seriously to be loveable.
There’s still some perverse joy to be had from the camp drama of it all, opener Kick, shameless ‘Transmisison’ rip (and first single) ‘Love Is A Number’ and ‘London’s Mine’ all eating the right disco biscuits. A kind of marketable Ultravox if you will. It’s insubstantial though, unable to provide any new thrills, spills or inventive sounds over its course. My bitterness remains, somewhat sharp and lemony. Meaning what exactly? Yes, White Rose Movement are musical CIF.

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Last Night I Slept At Gruff Rhys-Jones’ House

August 18, 2008 · Leave a Comment

HERE FOLLOWS AN ACCOUNT OF SOMETHING INTERESTING THAT, UNLIKE A LOT OF MY STORIES, ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

IT WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN SEREN, AUTUMN 2006.

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Last Night I Slept At Gruff Rhys-Jones’ House

There are lots of people here, chatting and drinking and dancing. It’s a club, I reason, and therefore this is to be expected. I am one such person, merrily engaged in lively discourse with other sweaty gig goers. One is called Catherine, or ‘Catch’ if you know her well, like I don’t. Her and her friends are charming and engaging, making their invitation for us all to spill onto the streets together a welcome one. Our mischief made, we do indeed spill. I, and my friends, hear stories from our new friends about how London’s Centre Point (a tall building and short fountain) is a magnet for, of all things, human faeces. Sensing danger in such a location, we high tail it to the nearest Prêt a Manger, because apparently such establishments are open at this hour. What time is it? We missed the last train. I hear an invitation to retire to Catch’s house for tea and biscuits, all though I never partake in at least one of those things (I believe feverishly in the power of disclaimers, and so I state that this invitation was not offered as a prelude to nudity. London is sexy, but not that sexy). Given our current situation and joyous bonhomie with these colourful characters, we accept.

Something strikes me as we enter the house. Something doesn’t sit right. Some sandwich? Oh, thanks. I note the kitchen is bigger than my house. I also note the table football table, with great, possibly too much, interest. Jokes are exchanged and a Good Time had. This strong will to engage is what I love most about socialising with strangers who you clearly have, although none of you are really sure of it yet, a lot in common with. When the dawn’s first light comes a’crawlin’ through the tall windows, our exuberance makes way for sleepiness. Fully prepped of our sleeping arrangements (down the stairs, first door on the left, between the gym and sauna), myself and faithful friend Adam take our weary heads away. Only then do I resolve my misgivings, and make the connection. The photos on the bathroom wall. The library of classics. The ukulele. The surname! I’m in Gruff Rhys-Jones’ house. Is he here? What do I say? I’m not presentable! He’s in Copenhagen? Probably for the best. After my last star struck moment with Mark Little at a cinema urinal, I don’t think I’m ready for a Gruff moment just yet. This would be weird if it wasn’t my birthday.

This is not a problem. There is no animosity between me and Gruff. Not yet. Buoyed by this discovery, we proceed to find the master of the house’s underwear, slippers, and pinball machine (Another disclaimer: the underwear was by accident). Excitement. Sleep.

The following morn is a funny one. It appears we are alone in the house. Where are our hostesses? They said they had things to do, but would they leave us to our own devices? Struggling to cope with the emotional weight of being in the house of the host of Restoration, the funny one out of Smith and Jones, I inadvertently set off one of the house’s many alarms. I panic. Adam remains infuriatingly placid. The ying to my yang. The Ernie to my Bert. The phone rings. There is a knock at the door. I start jabbering, in hindsight, quite comically. How will it look if the police come bursting in to find two dishevelled students, alone in Gruff Rhys-Jones’ house, wearing his fluffiest footwear? Felons they will cry! Visions of a night in Wormwood Scrubs bartering for my life with cigarettes cloud my judgement. Adam moves to the first floor lounge window. Knowing a sniper situation when I see one, I physically restrain him from reaching his destination. Neighbours are gathering around the doorstep. Our only hope is that we are not alone. Scampering to the top of the house, we find our hostess emerging, panda eyed from her room. A quick phone call to the security company informs them that this particular popular TV personality has not been burgled, in any sense of the word, least of all by these two dancefloor fiends.

The day passes, and we all go our separate ways. We have a capital to flee, and with our dead phone batteries, I’m wondering if our friends and family are curious of our whereabouts. So where did this experience leave us? Well I, for one, marked the passing of my teens in memorable fashion. But what did we learn? We learnt to never stray too close to minor celebrities, or relations thereof. You WILL get carried away. You WILL put said celebrities underwear on your head and dance around singing “I’m Gruff Rhys-Jones!” You WILL be surprised at this man’s guitar collection. A gig brought us together, and these instruments gave us communion. Maybe music IS a force for social good. Except jazz. Nobody likes that.

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