Local Natives, Manchester Ritz, 25th October 2013 8/10

This week's live music has coincided with my familiarisation with a new Arcade Fire record, which has affected the calibration of my critical faculties. Since Manchester is 50 miles from me, I was able to listene to nearly all of Reflecktor on the drive to the gig. Its 80's influences make it less to my taste than the sublime Suburbs, but even so, seeing Breton after this felt like viewing a polar bear in a zoo just after encountering one wandering around on Arctic sea ice. There is some affinity, in that Breton make much use of samples, electronically processed vocals and choppy beats, being influenced by MGMT. Yet, whereas Arcade Fire has unbelievable energy live, the rock band and multimedia collective from Swansea failed to get the venue dancing, or indeed come anywhere near the thrill of seeing a wild animal in its natural habitat.

Cloud Control (pictured above) also aspired to get the audience moving, and almost succeeded in the upbeat Promises from their recent album Dream Cave. We're a long way from the chill of the north with these sunny Australian 3 and 4 part vocal harmonies, and their music has a wonderful sense of airy space. Last time I saw them, I was a little underwhelmed, but in a larger venue they were inspired to play with more subtlety and vigour. They are not lacking melodic hooks, and they're entertaining to watch, but I was left craving greater depth: despite the atmospheric music, I wasn't deeply moved.

Local Natives immediately brought a seismic upwards shift in energy: they gave one hundred percent throughout and their commitment and stagecraft was inspiring. The sound was clear (thankfully after Daughter's issues with balance at this venue earlier in the week), the lighting was imaginative, and a shifting of personnel and instruments on stage maintained interest. I'd seen this highly respected Silverlake band at Coachella in April, and found them enjoyable rather than amazing, but experienced indoors from the front row, it was far easier to appreciate their exquisite attention to detail and the tightness of the ensemble.

Conventional wisdom is that their first album, Gorilla Manor, is the finer of the two. Indeed, Airplanes was the highlight of this show, bringing the warmest audience reaction, and is perhaps their strongest song, movingly inspired by a band member's grandfather. Yet, they were otherwise at their best in the darker songs from this year's Hummingbird. In particular, the emotional Columbia addressed Kelcey Ayer's dead mother: 'If you never felt all of my love/ I pray now you do'. This tragedy and the departure of their original bass player Andy Hamm has let to a more thoughtful, less extrovert second album with sparse guitar parts and hushed vocals.

Despite this change in line up, the band clearly gel as a team, and listening to their harmonies, I can appreciate the comparisons with Fleet Foxes. Hummingbird was produced by The National's Aaron Dessner, who met the Local Natives whilst they were on tour together. The drumming is sometimes reminiscent of them, but after this point the comparison becomes more problematic. I enjoyed songs such as Mount Washington or You and I, but there was neither as charismatic a front man as Matt Beringer, or more importantly as original songwriting. The sound washed over me, beautiful and inspiring, and yet I remained a spectator, moved, but not totally transported.

Local Natives do have an appealingly dreamy quality, aided by atmospheric synths, and their stagecraft cannot be faulted. Taylor Rice got a bemused reaction when he asked if anyone in the audience was dressed up for halloween (here it is only marked on October 31st and is less ubiquitous than in the USA), but I'm happy that he promised not to leave it three years until they return to Manchester. Whilst Reflektor may have spoiled me, I can't imagine anyone left the venue feeling cheated by the performance, and despite my reservations, the music never felt mundane. Recommended, provided your expectations haven't been knocked out of kilter.

Local Natives Set List

• Breakers
• World News
• Wide Eyes
• Warning Sign
• Ceilings
• You and I
• Black Balloons
• Shapeshifter
• Mt. Washington
• Camera Talk
• Airplanes
• Colombia
• Heavy Feet
• Who Knows Cares
• Sun Hands

Waxahatchee, Swearin' Manchester Sound Control 25th October 2013 7/10

Last night was all about the American twin sisters who formed a pop punk band called P.S Eliot in their teens. It ran from 2007 to 2011; now they're touring Europe together with their individual projects. Allison Crutchfield's Swearin' was remarkable for its energy, especially from the bass guitar and drummer. Like Savages, it relies upon visceral impact rather than subtlety for its energy. The set was heavy on songs from their upcoming second album Surfing Strange. The music makes use of fuzz and distortion, with a deliberately scrappy, unpolished feel. The lyrics have a feministic theme; the singing was pitched a little flat, but the sharing of vocals between two guitarists was effective. Pitchfork said: 'Swearin' channels the feeling of being in your early-to-mid 20s in the most intuitive way.' I'm some distance past this stage in life, but during their set I was completely carried away and uplifted by the punk spirit.

By comparison, Waxahatchee took more risks stylistically, but was less immediate in impact. The solo project of Alabama born Katie Crutchfield, they performed as a trio (against the four piece band of her sister). Waxahatchee's first UK gigs were only this summer, yet Katie said little between songs and barely acknowledged the fairly sizeable crowd at this small venue. Any expectations I had about their sound based on their albums were totally shattered. In the studio, they major on simplicity, and the vocal style is folk influenced. Live, there was far greater attack from her boyfriend Keith Spencer on drums and the bass player, clearly inspired by P.S Eliot and indeed Swearin'. This made for an unusual juxtaposition with the more gentle vocals, an experiment which didn't completely pay off.

A substantial part of the hour long set was taken from her first album American Weekend, yet it really came to life with Lips and Limbs from the more recent Cerulean Salt. Here, an infectious rhythm finally brought some tangible crowd reaction, and the band really gelled. It was followed by an energetic cover of Mama Cass Elliot's Make Your Own Kind Of Music. The lyrics to this song epitomise Waxahatchee's confidence. True, her voice isn't particularly powerful, but she avoided the trap of trying to faithfully reproduce the sound of the album in a live context. The directness of the story telling comes through less clearly, but indifference or boredom wasn't an option. If ultimately I felt her sister had the more coherent, polished act, I'm happy I have experienced Waxahatchee's independence of spirit. She talked in a recent interview of her focus on 'making music I really like'. I'm grateful that great art has never been the work of a committee or focus group but of inspired individuals like the Crutchfield twins.

Set Lists

Swearin'

• Intro / Here to Hear
• Kenosha
• Watered Down
• Mermaid
• Truth
• Young
• Fat Chance
• Echo Locate
• Just
• Crashing
• Movie Star
• Dust in the Gold Sack

Waxahatchee

• Bathtub
• Waiting
• Coast to Coast
• Lively
• Brother Bryan
• Grass Strain
• Lips and Limbs
• Make Your Own Kind of Music
• Swan Dive
• Magic City Whole
• Peace and Quiet
• American Weekend
• Noccalula

Daughter, Ritz Manchester, 21st October 2013 9/10

Expectations were high for this set: seeing Daughter for the first time this summer was one of the most moving experiences of the year. This Manchester show at one of my favourite mid sized venues had long since sold out, and fans gathered early to queue for a place near the front. First up was 4AD stablemate Indians, a solo classically trained musician from Copenhagen. He has performed with Other Lives and been compared to Bon Iver. His music is minimal, blending an ethereal folk vocal style with electronics. In a live setting, he failed to overcome the challenges of maintaining interest on stage with an electronic act, but if you closed your eyes, there was no lack of sonic beauty.

Elena Tonra is also relatively restrained in her movement on stage, standing meekly on stage. Yet, being close to her,  deep emotion was evident in her eyes, and there was clearly an intense energy within. Her partner Igor Haefeli was more physically demonstrative, and added greatly to the drama of the music. He employed bowed electric guitar and feedback effects in a Jonsi like manner, and with the drummer Remi Aguilella and a keyboard player, the canvas was felt richer than that on the album If You Leave. Their swelling electronics created an undercurrent of barely suppressed tension, the drama belying any expectations of quiet folk. Daughter has been compared to The XX, yet Igor in particular creates greater dynamic range and drama. In fact the mood reminded me at times of Exit Music.

Elena's fragile, beautiful vocals form the emotional core of Daughter: her performance was incredibly subtle and delicate. Alas, the sound balance was less sensitively handled: in the opening two songs, her vocals were scarcely audible, and despite an improvement mid set, the rousing, relatively up tempo Human was marred by Elena's voice being recessed. The sound was frustratingly inconsistent at a venue which normally avoids such issues; the mix at Daughter's outdoor show in August with Sigur Ros preserved her sometimes whispered voice. The predominately purple, blue and red lighting was imaginative and largely understated, yet seemed superfluous: the raw lyrics give the imagination more than enough indication of mood without the need for visual stimuli. In Lifeforms, she sings candidly 'I want you so much but I hate your guts', countering her outward politeness.

As ever, Elena was endearingly shy and awkward on stage, whilst managing to convey her appreciation for the audience, not least after shouts of 'love you' from the crowd. Youth gained the most recognition, and turned into a sing along. Yet, Daughter is an introverted act with strong appeal to other introverts like myself. There was little dancing, and thankfully a minimum of chatter during the main act in the predominantly female audience. The surprise encore, a cover of Daft Punk's Get Lucky, was a slowed down, hollowed out, sparse reinvention, almost ghostly. I left with an otherworldly feeling: Elena is one of those performers who can transport you to another realm. It's beautiful place, at times raw and turbulent, but aware of the fragility of the human condition. The music is intensely nuanced and personal; moving when listened to through headphones, but gaining immensely in grandeur as a live, shared experience.

Ghostpoet, Deaf Institute Manchester, 19th October 2013 9/10

After I being swept away by Ghostpoet at Reading Festival in August, there was no question I'd have to go to Manchester next time he was playing. Before the performance, he Tweeted that he was feeling ill, and then that he'd had a bad day; I wondered if this gig could possibly live up to that previous experience. I'm happy to report that any concern was misplaced. After a run of gentle and seated folk performances this month, the audience interaction in this small venue restored my faith in the power of live music to lift the weary soul. First though, Jaedia proved to be a more than credible opener. This young band from Halifax, previously called Tibetan Youth, has been compared to Wild Beasts, and blended electronics, guitar, and atmospheric vocals.

Obaro Ejimiwe's first album gained him a Mercury Prize nomination, and propelled him from a 9 to 5 job with an insurance company in Norwich to the life of a professional musician. Some Say I So I Say Light, released in May 2013, maintains a continuity of style with his debut, and has also earned much critical acclaim. Yet, Ghostpoet is an artist whom you simply must see live. His music is a mixture of lo-fi pop, electronica, dub-step and even industrial: it's not immediately the most accessible listened to in isolation. He stresses that he is not a rapper: he doesn't use rhyme strictly, and his low pitched voice sounds halfway between the spoken word of an MC and the melodic line of a singer.

Critical opinion has made much of the eerie tone of the music, The Guardian talking of songs set early in the morning, dream walking through quietly narrowish scenarios. Many of the songs are downtempo and anxious, yet they are always mellow rather than aggressive. My strongest memory of this gig is the sheer joy of moments such as Meltdown and Dial Tones, with female vocal backing, and the irrepressible energy of the guitar led Plastic Bag Brain. There was only brief narration between songs, but still an incredible and tolerant warmth from stage. Ghostpoet kept urging the audience to party, and his dancing and energy on stage was infectious. It's no coincidence that he asked us to applause ourselves at the end, and he possesses that elusive ability to make the crowed feel loved, and special.

The audience wasn't reverential though: in some of the lower key numbers, there was chatter, but overall Ghostpoet overcame the challenge of presenting electronic music live. The band was key to this success: he was backed by a live acoustic drummer, keyboardist and a sampler / guitar player, blending acoustic and electronic sounds in unexpected juxtapositions. The lyrics are surprisingly mundane: he speaks honestly of the monotony of everyday life, speaking in metaphors. The subject matter may appear prosaic, but the intensity of the live performance is striking: it really was an immerse experience, aided by a moody lighting set-up and that dancing.

Ghostpoet's music is inclusive, crossing cultural and stylistic boundaries, yet he has the confidence to challenge the audience rather than simply to seek to be liked by everyone. He explained recently: 'No-one’s told me how to make any of my music, it’s very much me just trying to be creative. I don’t know, I just feel I can do anything I want to do'. His sincerity is clear: he understands social media as a means of connecting with fans personally, and is diligent and kind in responding to them. Yet the act isn't about his personality, but the drama and life enhancing energy of the music. I'm really excited to see how Ghostpoet's imagination develops: I doubt it will be predictable. In the mean time, I'd strongly recommend that you check his live schedule so you too can experience this hypnotic joy.

In my (very) humble opinion....

Following some negative feedback about one of my recent blog posts, I'd like to share a few thoughts about writing about music. I feel passionately about this, since the vast majority of musicians work tirelessly and yet are still barely able to survive financially, such is the low value our economic system places on the arts. For this reason, I try in my own modest way to help to publicise their work via social media so that others may share in the pleasure of my discoveries. This is fraught with potential for misunderstanding, since musicians, and those who love music, are often by their nature highly sensitive souls.

For me, music is a mere hobby, albeit one which provides me with more joy than anything else in my life. I therefore share my musings and photographs for free. I've never accepted complementary tickets or asked for photo passes: I'm always a paying member of the audience and if I'm at the front, it's because I queued for a long time. When I speak positively of an artist, it's purely because I have enjoyed them. I attend gigs alone; whereas others might discuss the evening with their partner, I share my thoughts here instead. Sometimes happily my post starts a conversation in the virtual world.

The flip side of this independence is the amateur nature of this blog. I didn't grow up with popular music: three years ago, The Beatles were more or less the only band whose name I was familiar with. Shortly thereafter, a kind American made me listen to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros on a train journey from The Arctic, and my horizons exploded. So, I've never claimed to write as an expert and have at times even made a virtue of this, such as the piece I wrote on spending a day listening to Nine Inch Nails for the first time.

The artist who prompted this post has released 14 albums; I discovered her this summer, and have listened to only her most recent two, a fact I should in retrospect have made clear in my review. Despite suffering from a heavy cold when I saw her, she is an exceptionally talented live performer. However, reaction to music is by its nature highly subjective, and I craved a more adventurous, less 'adult contemporary' style. It's clear she has a devoted following, and I regret it if my remarks appeared condescending.

Fortunately, there are subjects on which I am better informed than popular music; I'm not quite as ignorant in real life as I may appear to readers of this blog. Perhaps I should write about something I'm an expert on; but when I set out I hoped there was a small space in the blogosphere for an alternative perspective. Even if there are other middle aged people who have spent their life devoted to classical music on the front rail with the teenagers at Reading Festival, I doubt they're blogging about it!

I can assure you that even when I'm completely misguided, any views I express here about music are deeply and sincerely held, and not influenced by others or by fashion. Which music moves you is in the realm of the emotional and spiritual. I find it challenging to write about, but I hope others who have experienced its extraordinary power will be able to identify with my desire to support the musicians who make life worth living.

Thea Gilmore, Nantwich Words and Music Festival, 12th October 2013 7.5/10

I love how music is a way of connecting with different cultures, whether experienced through travel yourself or through seeing touring artists. Last night though, was a chance to connect with a local community. A market town of just 13,000 people close to my home is privileged to have an artist of international standing in its midst. Thea Gilmore was born in Oxford to Irish parents, but is now the driving force behind the annual Nantwich Words and Music Festival, to the extent that without any corporate sponsorship or public grants, she underwrites the entire week long event personally. When I arrived, the size of the queue made it clear that this love is reciprocated; indeed one couple explained that they'd been waiting three years to get tickets for one of Thea's shows here. The age mix was broad: this was an inclusive, family event at a school whose atmosphere reminded me of shows at the West End Cultural Centre in Winnipeg, 4000 miles away.

Thea compared her voice to that of a wayward toddler in its unpredictability, since she was suffering from a heavy cold; it is to her credit that she refused to disappoint the town by cancelling. This impacted her tone, but she was still pitch perfect and powerful in her projection. Her long time collaborator and husband Nigel Stonier discovered Thea whilst she was working in a recording studio, and more than compensated for her illness. In fact, he's a charismatic performer in his own right, contributing vocals and notably vigorous keyboard accompaniment. It was a family affair both in being the culmination of a festival that relies on local volunteers, and literally in that her 6 year old son Egan came on stage as a violinist in one number. The set ranged widely through her own back catalogue and was far more than a simple run through of her new album.

Thea's a prolific workaholic, having released 14 albums by the age of 33. The most recent, Regardless followed a two year break from recording after the birth of her younger child. It's more lush, with use of strings, and less raw that her earlier work such as Liejacker which had a greater sense of sadness. I connected more readily with the explicit vulnerability of Neil Halstead earlier in the week: perhaps Thea sees music as an escape, and a means of healing through making others happy rather than in a cathartic manner. The sadness is just below the surface in her lyrics: in a recent interview, she talked about suffering from post natal depression during the hiatus before Regardless. She spoke movingly last night about the fear that her own neurosis would damage her childrens' lives, and how she'd written a song for her son to atone for this. Her manner on stage was down to earth, however, with gentle humour; perhaps this reflected the fact that she knew several of those in the audience personally, and Thea remarked that she did the school run with some of them.

Her songs tend to be simple in structure and a consistent 3 to 4 minutes length: there's little experimentation with form. Her recent single Love Came Looking for Me was used at the soundtrack to the television coverage of Wimbledon this year, and the entire album's style is towards the more commercial end of folk. With a gift for melody, it's more likely her reluctance to sign to a major label than any lack of song writing ability that has prevented a larger break through. If for me, the music is a times a little too radio friendly, and could take more risks, there's no doubting her performing ability. Thea has a wonderful stage presence, achieved through her shear musicianship and her rich voice. The backing band of keyboard, acoustic guitar, and strings sounded tight, and the music was placed at the centre, holding everyone's attention without the need for lighting effects, dancing or gimmicks. As she closed aptly with My Friend Goodbye, I could see why Joan Baez admires Thea so much, and invited her on tour in the US. As Thea once said, 'it's easy to get sniffy about pop music'. She's a musician of great integrity who, despite her personal challenges, seeks to give back to the community and writes accessible music to give pleasure to a wide audience.

Note 14th October 2013
I’ve been contacted by an associate of the artist who pointed out some factual errors in this article, which I have now corrected and apologise for.

Neil Halstead, Nantwich Words and Music Festival, 9th October 2013 8/10

I was concerned that another stripped back performance so soon after the remarkable Laura Marling last week would be an anti climax. The parallels were striking: Neil Halstead also appeared on stage accompanied only by a pair of acoustic guitars, and had an even more minimal lighting set-up. The tiny venue allowed for greater intimacy, and the audience was completely silent in their rapt concentration. Both sets were notable for their emotional maturity, in Laura's case way beyond her years, but the 44 year old Neil Halstead's lyrics also have depth. These two English folk singers have both been disparaged in the past for their upper and middle class backgrounds, yet each feels utterly sincere and true to themselves.

Neil made a joke about being nervous early on in the set, but his quiet, self deprecating humour was endearing. He seems comfortable with his eccentricities, as evidenced by the song Palindromes. After accepting requests from the audience, he forgot the words to a couple of songs: this only added to the authenticity. The gig was part of the Cheshire town of Nantwich's Words and Music Festival, co-directed by Thea Gilmore. The atmosphere was that of an informal, relaxed gathering, no set list being in evidence, with a refreshing lack of polish. Neil moved to Cornwall from his native Reading to pursue his love of surfing: he told us with delight that one of his guitars had been made by a surf board maker, and that it would be a fine instrument if it didn't keep going out of tune.

There's nothing shambolic about Neil's playing, which was beautifully intricate, and his use of a pedal gave an country flavour to some songs. Instrumental sections seemed to take on a heightened importance, going beyond mere accompaniment. He briefly employed an harmonica, which didn't audibly suffer from having been stood on earlier in the day, but there was no sign of the piano from his most recent album, Palindrome Hunches. He played with a full band at London's Bush Hall last autumn, but as with Laura Marling, I had no craving for a fuller texture. Husky vocals conveyed raw emotion, the ends of sentences seemingly fading away to bring a hushed end to phrases.

The music is refreshingly simple British folk, with transatlantic influences of Dylan and Neil Young, showing few obvious signs of his shoegaze days (he helped to define that genre with the band Slowdive). Yet, he has the ability to draw you in to a private world, to the exclusion of all else. He wore a t-shirt with 'The Innermost Limits of Joy' written on it: this was a magical experience for introverted souls. I was deeply moved by the emotion of the mostly melancholy songs. An interview speculated that this darkness can be attributed to his separation from his wife and twins, and indeed he sang a song dedicated to her. Neil said: "Spin The Bottle is very personal. I find that a hard one to sing. But I think music should be like that – a little bit therapy and a little bit art."

Where Neil diverges from Laura Marling is in his vocal and stylistic range: whereas her voice is incredibly versatile, and her song writing ranges widely in mood, his consistently hushed Nick Drake like delivery is more limiting. Yet, it's a place from which I was reluctant to emerge after the 75 minutes in his company. Neil ended with a song called Sometimes The Wheels, which he explained was about a salesman who knocked on his door one morning. They were selling Jesus Christ, or 'the big JC' as he puts it. This may offend some, yet his views are independently and strongly held. He sees little need to bow to the whims of fashion or crave attention. In a week when the media is full of the buzz of Lorde and the controversy of Miley Cyrus, it is refreshing that there are artists prepared to quietly let their music speak for itself.

Laura Marling, The Lowry, Salford, 30th September 2013 10/10

I spoke rapturously of Laura Marling’s musicianship after her A Creature I Don't Know tour in March 2012. The surprise in Manchester last night was the extent to which she’s developed with the release of Once I Was An Eagle this year. Even after the depth of the opening sequence on this album, I wasn't prepared for such an intense live experience. The venue was plush, but the set completely stripped down, the stage bare except for two acoustic guitars and a microphone. The only lighting was a static white spotlight, and there were no backing musicians. This was an intimate occasion, the size of the space shrinking so that your field of attention became utterly focused. I've been to classical concerts where the audience have been noisy in comparison to this: there was utter hush and concentration, but no lack of passion. Photography was discouraged adding to the reverent atmosphere.

As I waited for the show to start, I read the powerful article Lauren Mayberry of CHVRCHES had just written for The Guardian. This is a scathing and disturbing account of sexism and misogyny on-line. Lauren movingly explained that 'despite the positive messages in the majority, the aggressive, intrusive nature of the other kind becomes overwhelming'. Laura Marling shies away from discussing her feelings publicly, but it's not difficult to discern an inner strength when you read the lyrics of the opening song last night, I Was An Eagle:

'When we were in love, if we were, I was an eagle and you were a dove… I will not be a victim of romance or circumstance…You were a dove and I rose above you and preyed.'

In this analogy gender roles are reversed; powerful imagery expressed through poetry.

As she came on stage, the endearingly shy trademark introduction: ‘Hello, I’m Laura' was just about audible from the stage. As the 75 minute set progressed, her rapport became more informal and relaxed. Responding to a review of her Edinburgh date which remarked on the time she spent tuning, Laura decided to fill the gaps by reading lines of poetry. Later on, she told an amusing anecdote about Walt Whitman's arrogance she found in an introduction to his Leaves of Grass. The daughter of a baronet, Laura’s life appears to that of a genteel introvert. In a recent interview about her move to LA, she said she always has a crossword on the go. Songs such as The Muse and Sophia are full of literary imagery, but the delivery of this music is far removed from reserved. 

I've felt previously that Laura's emotions are contained just below the surface, but this time they exploded outwards. There was an exhilarating sense of risk in her singing, and twice a song actually did break down mid flow. Expression was prioritised over technical perfection. Far from being primarily interested in beauty of tone, she focused on the lyrics, at times adopting a declamatory style midway between speech and singing. We were put through an emotional roller coaster, harrowing at times, bringing me to tears in I Speak Because I Can. Her vocal range, particularly in the lower register, was remarkable, with an agility and rawness reminiscent of Fiona Apple in songs such as Breathe. A native American legend inspired Master Hunter; a song whose power is testimony to her versatility.

Laura mentioned that she collected records from 1969 before performing the cover of Townes Van Zandt's For the Sake of the Song towards the end of the set. Her fans already know that she doesn't do encores: instead she closed with Where Can I Go. This recent material is darker and less immediate: she's moved some distance from the boisterous nu folk of former lovers Marcus Mumford and Charlie Fink. Despite the English reserve, Laura is taking her devoted fans on an unpredicable musical journey of her choosing. As her petite, pale figure stood alone on the stage in a simple white dress, I became totally lost in the music, oblivious to the passage of time. Far from being a distant presence, she inhabited my soul: when music making reaches this plane, it can become a religious experience.