Thursday, December 8, 2011

Adam Barnes, Chris Ayer, Matt Simons The Thirsty Scholar Manchester 8th Dec 2011


I expected to write about my impressions of Lelia Broussard in this Manchester pub last last night. Sadly, this was not to be, since she trapped her hand in the tour van door just before the show and was unable to play her guitar, and felt too shaken to sing. I discovered this young New Yorker on Pledge Music, and I'd urge you to listen to her album Masquerade, and particularly the catchy pop song Satellite. Her style is very American pop: upbeat, light and easy on the ear, and from her brief appearance in a trio during one song, I could sense she has great stage presence and a sweet voice. Sadly, she spent most of the evening nursing her injury with a pint of beer and a glass of ice; I hope there'll be another chance to see her.


I've previously mentioned that you should take risks with live music, and explore alternative scenes, or unfamiliar performers. I hadn't heard any of tonight's other performers before, even on recordings, and they all made beautiful sounds. In some ways I felt as if I was going back in time with the informality of proceedings: people wandered in and out of the bar, some listened; other regulars carried on with their conversations. The idea of sitting reverentially in silence listening to music in concert halls dates back only to the 19th century and the Romantic Movement. In Mozart's time, it was quite normal to chatter, drink, eat and go about your social life whilst a performance was taking place. The sense of relaxed discovery and my complete lack of preconceptions or expectations was so refreshing.


I was particularly moved by Adam Barnes from Oxford, the only British artist here. He is undertaking his first full UK tour, but has previously supported William Fitzsimmons and Slow Club. He describes his music as American style nu folk, and influences including Bon Iver, Frank Turner, Dallas Green and Joshua Radin. He was accompanied by a keyboard player and his acoustic guitar, and his songs are simple and unsophisticated. It was his sensitive delivery and full, expressive voice which really brought his performances to life and captured my attention. He deserves a much higher profile, but part of me will be sorry if he achieves this success, as the magic was for stumbling upon him by accident, in a tiny, intimate venue. I'd urge you to listen to and buy his album Blisters on Bandcamp: if you enjoy acoustic folk music, £5 is an absolute bargain.


Chris Ayer from Virginia is a more established artist: he's released seven albums, and played over 500 shows in the US and UK. He played solo, with guitar, and his influences include Paul Simon, Amos Lee and Jeff Mangum. His style is far more mainstream than Mangum, but he has a great tenor voice, and like Adam Barnes, a tenderness and unforced naturalness in his performance. The intelligent lyrics betray the fact he studied philosophy and music at Stanford, and they are combined with catchy tunes, delivered with confidence and conviction. I find his work at times almost too pleasant and lacking in grit, but this is a matter of personal taste, and no reflection on his talents. My favourite classical music (for example Wagner) is typically heavy and complex. I'm open minded in my explorations of popular music, but my preferences may eventually settle on more challenging material. You can start your discovery of Chris Ayer by listening to this album.


Finally, Matt Simons was the most jazz influenced of these three singer-songwriters. His work has been compared with Gavin Degraw, Ben Folds, Stevie Wonder and John Coltrane, and was distinctive here in his use of piano. He played in duo (and in harmony) with Chris Ayer, and much of his work was catchy and upbeat. He has a degree in jazz saxophone performance, and the songs I found most convincing were laid back and rooted in this jazz tradition. It's definitely worth your time to stream the tracks on his website, and you can even download a free album of covers here. The highlight of his engaging set was a Charlie Chaplin song, Smile.


I've intentionally provided links to music from all the performers, as this review is all about discovery. I'm not deeply immersed in any of them, but my advice if you're read this far is to be adventurous and wide-ranging in your explorations: take risks! If you can't travel regularly to see new music, take solace in the fact that there are advantages to doing so online. The downside of the informal atmosphere in this pub was that some were here just to socialise and drink, not listen. Towards the end of the evening it could be difficult to concentrate on the more subtle aspects of art, but music is more accessible than it has been at any time in human history, and hence the journey can continue at mine, and your, leisure. My last live review before Christmas will be Slow Club; then hopefully I'll be able to provide a long overdue album roundup, along with my end of year lists.

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