Fanfarlo, Manchester Deaf Institute 24th November 2011 6.5/10

How do you approach new music? I dedicate time to listen to a new album sequentially in its entirety without distractions on my hi-fi. Later, if initial impressions are positive, it will find its way onto my iPod and become part of my fabric of my life. It can take many listens, in different circumstances and moods before I can come to a conclusion about whether I like it. Often music which initially impresses wears badly (whilst Nine Inch Nails proves the opposite can apply). Tonight though, my introduction to Fanfarlo's new album took place live, in a packed Deaf Institute, rather like my very first rock concert when I heard Alex Ebert's Alexander for the first time.

Previously whilst I'd enjoyed Fanfarlo, I felt that Reservoir was a little derivative, and it proved to be one of those albums which dazzled on first listen, but I now return to only occasionally. The word twee certainly won't be associated with their second album, Rooms Filled With Light, to be released at the end of February 2012. Even their old songs sounded unfamiliar tonight, and have been reinterpreted as the group re-invents itself. First though there was the shock of Fanfarlo's chosen support act, the electronic artist Christos Fanaras. The audience completely failed to comprehend his act, being unsettled throughout, which meant circumstances mitigated against connecting with it. This is difficult music, akin to avant garde contemporary classical, yet eventually I was won over by its hypnotic effects, even if this solo electronic performer was reliant on a light show for visual interest.

Fanfarlo justify Fanaras' inclusion as he's one of their recent influences, but it was bold to use the support act to introduce the audience to a whole new genre. Radiohead could pull this off, but Fanfarlo are not established enough to take their fans so far out of their comfort zone. There is logic though: Fanfarlo mentioned Steve Reich as an influence in a BBC Radio interview broadcast just prior to this concert, along with late 1970's artists such as Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, Talking Heads and Kraftwerk. Neither Noah and the Whale or any other New Folk artists were mentioned, and yet it's inevitable comparisons will be made with their more celebrated fellow Brits.

Last Night on Earth, which I've also seen live, takes Noah and the Whale in a more upbeat direction, whereas Rooms Filled With Light has echoes of more arty New Wave and is more complex to assimilate. They have traded their folksier elements for a moodier, more electronic sound, with a darker feel. This can work stunningly well, for example in the intricate rhythms and counterpoint of Replicate, which opened the gig and can be downloaded for free from the artist's website. Almost inevitably though, it was the older material which got the audience most engaged, and my highlight was the encore The Walls are Coming Down. I admire their new found experimentalism, and they are skilled and engaging live performers, but an  energy was missing; perhaps a spiritual sense. Their name comes from the 19th Century French critic Charles de Baudelaire's novella, and was chosen to convey a sense of romanticism. I commend this intellectualism, but there's a hint of British restraint in their performance; perhaps a greater freedom will come as they continue to develop musically.

The jury is still out on Fanfarlo's reinvention for me. I need to listen to the album at my leisure, and perhaps hear it live again when their performances have been honed with the experience of audiences. What isn't in doubt is that the band comprises five accomplished musicians, multi instrumentalists such as Cathy Lucas (violin, keyboards, vocals, but sadly no longer mandolin); Simon Bathazar (who has traded his clarinet for a saxophone); and Leon Beckenman (whose trumpet playing makes me wish Fanfarlo would further embrace jazz influences). However, the excitement of listening to new music for the first time wasn't quite fulfilled. I attribute this partially to the memory of Portugal. The Man's remarkable performance one week earlier in the same venue being so fresh in my mind. You should certainly make the effort to see Fanfarlo, and buy their new album when it's released, but it won't change your life.

Set List

Replicate
Tightrope
Pilots
Digdog
Lenslifes
Comments
Deconstructown
Finish Line
At last
Flood
Lunadogs
Feather dusters
Shiny tintings
Wee willy Wilkins

Portugal. The Man Manchester Deaf Institute November 16th 2011 10/10

There was never any question whether I'd attend this gig, despite the fact I'd been travelling back from the Arctic for the previous 3 days, and managed only 2 hours sleep on a plane the previous night. I reviewed my first Portugal. The Man concert here, and several months later I often recall that joy. Despite the fact that I've now seen numerous other amazing acts, and attended several festivals, my original judgement stands: this is one of the very finest live experiences.

John Gourley acknowledges in this recent interview that Portugal. The Man has yet to receive widespread recognition in the UK, despite signing to a major label. The happy consequence of others' ignorance was being able to see them in an intimate venue, stood an arm's length from the stage. I've heard rave reports of their new light show in American shows, but here only the Deaf Institute's in house rig was used. Gourley said no more than 'thank-you' and 'we're Portugal. The Man from Alaska and Portland'. No jokes, no gimmicks, no encore; just the band and its fans united by a love of music.

The commitment of all five musicians is remarkable: they gave their absolute all, and it's hard to imagine how they could have physically sustained it for longer than this 65 minute set. Some acts (for example, Bon Iver) add little to their already great albums, but you really have to experience Portugal. The Man live to be hit with an irrepressible force of energy. This manifests itself in both in the instrumentals (tight, drumming, for example, hard hitting guitars), and in the on stage persona of Gourley and his colleagues. Whilst they certainly rock, I found the lyrical moments, such as in 1989 from Censored Colors to be the most moving: I love their vocal harmonising, electric fuzz and irresistibly catchy melodies.

 I love the recent album In the Mountain, In The Cloud, but live they have a freer, more improvisatory quality: they have yet to make a recording which fully captures this risk taking. They opened with the incredibly upbeat So American, but the set was also generous in its selections of material from Satanic Satanist, Portugal. The Man's masterpiece. The euphoria peaked with Guns and Dogs and the closing People Say. I was completely sober (having just driven 200 miles) yet by the end of the set, I experienced an amazing high. Everything else was irrelevant: I was living in an idealised version of the present, and was so emotionally engaged that it would've been impossible for any extraneous thoughts to creep into my mind.

The rest of the audience were similarly engaged, but although there was dancing, they didn't go wild as at Cut Copy recently; perhaps mindful of this, John Gourley Tweeted, asking for the crowd at his London gig tonight to be rowdy. Still, it was the first anniversary of the explosion in my musical horizons (a momentous event in my life which occurred due to the generosity of a dear friend), and there couldn't have been a more apt way to mark it than this sublime experience. Like travel, live music allows you to see everyday life from a different perspective: priorities are put into perspective, and it has the power to make those who submit to its emotions more open, tolerant individuals.

Sorry, no video, and it was very low light for available light photography, but I will never use flash at gigs.