The Staves, Ruby Lounge Manchester, 27th November 6/10

Sometimes I'm so excited before a gig that there's a danger of disappointment, but tonight the risk was of a lack of enthusiasm. I booked for this sold out show several weeks ago, on the promise of The Staves' début album. Yet, on listening to Dead & Born & Grown for the first time last week, my expectations for tonight plummeted, due to its musical conservatism. The three sisters from Watford have played safe, despite the production skills of Glyn and Ethan Johns. In an effort to please middle England, they haven't attempted to push any creative boundaries. Laura Marling moulds a similar blend of British folk and Americana into a more engaging form, whilst for genre stretching excitement, they could learn something from the impact of Los Angeles' Haim (to feature on this blog shortly).

First on though was Luke Sital-Singh, a singer songwriter from New Malden, London who performed solo with guitar. He ambitiously cites influences of Fleet Foxes, Josh Ritter and Damien Rice, yet it is Bon Iver who's utmost in the mind thanks to the falsetto vocals. He gave an emotional performance, the singing predominantly quiet. This takes courage to bring off, and stood at the front I could sense some nervousness. He reached climaxes of great passion, sometimes at the expense of accuracy of intonation (but perhaps I'm judging from a classical perspective). I see a performer near the beginning of his career with great potential, and as he gains more experience he will refine his presentation. Even now though, he has the ability to seize the audience's attention with his subtle musicianship and surprising energy.

Tonight was my first live music experience after travelling to pursue one of my other interests. I was hoping for some magic, my soul being in need of revitalisation. The Staves gave an exceptional performance vocally, their blend absolutely impeccable and naturally unforced. Coping adroitly with some somewhat inappropriate banter from an inebriated audience member, their chatter between songs set up a warm rapport with the audience. The group's colourful language broke the ice, yet I wonder if it was a subconscious attempt to compensate for a lack of edge in their music. The highlights of the short set were Mexico, for its charming melody, and the Wisely and Slow which was sung a capella by the three sisters in a huddle at the centre of the stage.

The audience for this sold out show was remarkably hushed, in fact captivated, despite being squashed into the small venue. Their recent support for Bon Iver has raised their profile, as did the Civil Wars’ advocacy last year. After seeing The Staves in April at The Deaf Institute, I had concerns about the music’s lack of substance, writing that it was too comfortable, lacking variety of mood. Sadly their new material hasn't altered this judgement. They do have considerable vocal talent, and with such skill in the classical world they’d be able to interpret the masterpieces of the last few hundred years. Yet, in the pop world, we expect our performers to be composers too. An exception is the performance of covers, and this set could have benefited greatly from inclusion of some of these, in the manner of First Aid Kit.

The Staves are accompanied by both a drummer and a bass player on this tour; they remained subtlety in the background. David Bryne’s points out in his excellent book How Music Works that classical musicians often have difficulty playing popular music because they're deceived by its apparent simplicity, and so miss the subtleties. The Staves certainly understand such nuances, and in consequence perform with touching sensitivity. Yet, they left me waiting for the revelation which didn't arrive: it was gorgeous but earth-bound experience, a voyage which failed to make orbit.

Set List

• The Motherlode
• Icarus
• Pay Us No Mind
• In The Long Run
• Facing West
• Tongue Behind my Teeth
• Mexico
• Wisely Intro
• Snow
• Eagle Song
• Dead and Born and Grown
• Winter Trees

Terra Naomi, Soup Kitchen Manchester, 2nd November 2012 9/10

At the end of an exceptional week for live music, I found myself in a dimly lit basement in Manchester's Northern Quarter listening to one of my favourite artists. It was a characteristically chilly and wet night, yet as soon as Terra began to play, thoughts of the outside world melted away. The atmosphere was distinct from that in Liverpool where I saw her in February: there was an incredible hush from the outset as the audience were mesmerised. An indication of great musicianship is the confidence to play quietly: Terra sensed the rapt concentration in the room, and in holding back communicated all the more powerfully. Jenny, an extrovert song on her first album, was exquisitely delicately shaded here. The conductor Stokowski's quote: "A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence" seemed apt.

 

I'd seen The Civil Wars two day's previously, and I was struck by a similarity in the ability to exploit simplicity to express feelings directly. It's actually incredibly difficult to perform simple music to a high level: many pianists will tell you that they're terrified of playing Mozart, because they feel exposed. Terra's 2011 album To Know I'm OK was produced by the renowned John Alagia: whilst the songs there are brought to life with skilful, elaborate arrangements, Terra's acoustic tour is to me even more moving for being stripped down. You can experience this for yourself on a live recording from this year's first European tour, available on iTunes.

There is no doubting Terra's authenticity: she sings about life's challenges, be it a broken heart or issues with drugs. She shares a piece of her inner self in each performance, and talks eloquently on stage about the events and experiences which inspired each song. I found the Vicodin Song, written about the drugs she was prescribed after a car accident, an early highlight of the set, enhanced by lovely piano self-accompaniment. She then explained that In The Summertime was inspired by a 'happy funeral'; this showed her gift for haunting melody. The evening was marked by spontaneity: there was no set list, or formality, just the music.

Terra was classically trained, and it was her pure, pitch perfect soprano voice which captured my attention two years ago when I was first exploring indie music. Yet, in Manchester, I was most struck by her sensitivity: those nuances, pauses, rubato and micro dynamics which are instinctive and have such a powerful effect. She's been touring Europe for some weeks now, and I think that the experience of sensing the reactions of contrasting audiences each night has deepened her performances. Even a happy song, You for Me, was performed at a more relaxed pace than I've previously heard it, retaining its delicacy but with a poignant side. Yet an outstanding cover of Billie Jean illustrates her versatility.

I feel incredibly privileged to be able to see a performer of Terra's calibre in a venue of this size. In 2007, she played Say It's Possible at Live Earth in Wembley Stadium (conveying a message about climate change which has become even more relevant and urgent). Yet she's guarded her integrity, and resisted compromising artistic integrity for commercial 'success'. The new songs she performed in Liverpool convey show an undimmed creativity: I particularly enjoyed the one inspired by a self confessed fickleness of attraction to men. An hour and a half passed in an instant, but left in my memory at the close was a tender, heartfelt performance of I'll be Waiting which brought a tear to my eye. As the composer Delius said, "Music is an outburst of the soul".

Beach House, HMV Ritz, 31st October 2012 7/10

Manchester producer Holy Other is renowned for his anonymity: until early this year, he performed with a shroud over his head, and as if craving obscurity, chose Myspace as his social media presence. Tonight, the unnamed artist was in shadow throughout the performance, and made no overt attempt to engage the audience. Electronic music doesn't always translate easily into a live setting, and the volume of chatter in the ballroom at the The Ritz suggested that not everyone’s attention had been seized. Yet, his sepulchral sound with ghostly vocals, slow pace and solemn mood was so apt for Halloween. I closed my eyes, and let the music take hold of my imagination, aided by its repetition, my body vibrating to the subterranean bass. I love Drowned in Sound’s description of the title track from his recent début album Held:  'it has the eerie feel of a late night journey in an empty train carriage'.

Baltimore’s Beach House is regarded with such reverence in indie circles that I was eager to experience them live, and I've had to wait, since last year's Manchester gig was thwarted by cancellation. Their two latest albums, 2010’s Team Dream and 2012’s Bloom, are dream pop classics. In one important respect they translated perfectly to a live setting: the sound was remarkably almost identical to their studio work, the musicianship almost flawless. Each song had a similar combination of Victoria Legrand’s dramatic, breathy yet rich contralto vocals, with Alex Scally’s layered arpeggios on keyboard and guitar. They were accompanied by a live drummer, whose precision emulated their customary drum machine. It was created to perfection, to the extent that I questioned what seeing them live added. Where was the spontaneity, and in what way was the show influenced by the audience?

They spent much of the time in the dark, Victoria hiding behind her keyboard at the back of the stage, shrouded in dry ice behind a microphone, covered by her long curly hair. Yet, their show is a carefully planned work of art, and the aesthetics were impeccably designed by Alex. The warehouse style set, with industrial fans behind wooden slats was beautifully lit with strobes. They didn't really attempt between set banter, although Victoria kindly remarked that the vibe from the audience was warm and friendly. We stood there, feeling the music, soaking in the atmosphere, swaying gently. Highlights of the 80 minute set included Myth from Bloom, and Norway and Zebra from Teen Dream, but it cohered into a single whole.

The key to understanding Beach House’s performance is as a celebration of introversion. Victoria and Alex were utterly absorbed in their own world, concentrating intensely, and their restraint should not be mistaken for a lack of passion. These are serious artists, thoughtful rather than demonstrative. Neither of them wandered around the stage, but Victoria moved freely within her boundaries, even head banging during instrumental interludes. The music itself also exists within strict self-imposed rules, forming and then dissipating, its power lying within tiny variations. This consistency makes for either a beautifully blended set, or soporific homogeneity, depending on your perspective. The audience became restless part way through the set, but the encores, 10 Mile Stereo and Irene showed a sense of flexibility and freedom I craved earlier.

The show had a similarly intellectually stimulating effect on me as a classical concert, but didn't excite me emotionally in the way that more extrovert live acts can. Yet, there’s no denying the music's beauty, which moved to tears a regular of the Manchester music scene stood close by. For me, the music swelled and rippled, never quite exploding into a climax.Yet, this restraint is exactly what Alex and Victoria intended: for better or worse, perfection.

The Lumineers and Civil Wars, O2 Apollo Manchester, 30th October 2012 9/10

I’ve come to realise that the venue is central to the live experience, but sometimes the sheer quality of music can transcend other considerations. I was at my least favourite location in Manchester, in an all seating configuration which often kills atmosphere, but this was still a magical evening from the outset. Leeds’ FossilCollective is yet to record their début full length, but the just released EP On and On is beautiful. They take influences from Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes and Neil Young, but are also indebted to the English folk tradition. The sadly short four song set was notable for the rich harmonies and lead singer David Fendick’s delicate falsetto voice. I'm looking forward to seeing them at greater length at a smaller venue.

The Lumineers are a force of nature, immediately putting a huge smile on my face with the opening Submarines. Ho Hey brought the previously passive audience to its feet, singing and clapping. Their positive energy was infectious: just a few days after seeing Alt-J, I was once again feeling a sense of intense euphoria. The band is clearly proud of their home town of Denver, Colorado; this was their first time in Manchester. Wesley Schultz and Jeremiah Fraites started up in 2005, but they didn't come to prominence until a year ago, when their hit Ho Hey was used in a TV programme. Their début album has been a huge critical success since its release in April, testament to the power of word of mouth. It’s a group effort, and there’s wonderful sense of collaboration and joy on stage, culminating in them singing a new song with glockenspiel solo unmiked at the front of the stage to 3500 people. Other slower, quieter songs such as Dead Sea show an emotional range which extends beyond the jovial and jaunty, reflecting the tragedy of their back story (Fraites' elder borther was Schultz's best friend until he died of an overdose in 2002, and then Schultz's father died of cancer in 2007).

I’m already incredibly excited about a headline Lumineers gig at a smaller venue in Manchester next February. I was transfixed with the cellist Neyla Pakarek's beaming smile, as she danced around the stage. She joined the band after responding to an advert on Craigslist, and is also a delightful singer, duetting with Wesley in another new song towards the end of their set. They combine the sing along quality of Mumford and Sons with the collective ethos of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. The music itself breaks no boundaries, but the key is its simplicity: it’s reduced to the emotional essentials. As Neyla explained: “The current sound that is now The Lumineers has evolved out of a whole lot of writing, experimenting, and ultimately stripping down a lot of elements to let Wes' lyrics breathe and tell the stories they were intended to tell.” Wes indeed has a fine voice, and his charisma is central to that strong connection with the audience.

The Civil Wars take simplicity to even greater lengths. Their music is comforting country folk, and listening at home the catchy melodies and mellow harmonies delight, but hardly challenge. Live, however is a different matter. I've seen them in progressively larger venues, from a tiny bar in Manchester just over a year ago to a mid sized venue and this, their largest ticketed gig to date. Their success is testimony to hard work: Barton Hollow was released last year without major label support, and even the recent birth of Joy’s son resulted in only a brief pause in their tireless touring schedule. The album has now gone Gold, selling over half a million copies in the USA, whilst they also won a pair of Grammys this year. The set tonight reflected their contribution to the Hunger Games soundtrack, which has further raised their profile.

The Civil Wars' act is incredibly nuanced, turning on the slightest detail, inflection and pauses. Gigs at this venue are often marred by audience noise, yet there was barely an extraneous sound: the audience was spellbound. Their act has developed over the past few months: Joy’s movements were a little more deliberate and exaggerated to project in a larger auditorium, and musically the songs have been refined and distilled their further. The new song Oh Henry was a highlight of the 75 minutes set, and augers well for their next album. The robust Barton Hollow provided some welcome, swampy contrast, and energised the crowd.

JP gently joked with the audience, whilst conveying genuine appreciation for the support they receive and thanking us for  ‘telling your friends about us and dragging along your spouses to this concert’. His interaction with Joy is of course the essence of their magic, and despite the often melancholy nature of their songs, the experience remains uplifting.  I was fortunate to be near the front, and so Joy's emotion as she reacted to the lyrics was a delight to observe. As ever, their singing was technically perfect and as they concluded with their Billie Jean cover, we all left the theatre moved and once again amazed at the emotional power of great live artists to change the way the world feels to us.