FLIGHT BRIGADE / TARSIERS | LIVE REVIEW
The Moon Club, Cardiff, Fri 23 Oct
Featuring the daughters and son-in-law of obscure 70s duo Mask, Flight Brigade clearly has in their favour a robust musical lineage and familial grounding within the field of folk music. And having toured the festival circuit with appearances at Glastonbury, Hop Farm and other stints on the music calendar, they’ve made a name for themselves in recent years for smooth, emotively wrought balladry. With this in mind, it was perhaps prudent to expect a decent turn out of followers, keen to witness the septet replicate this within a live environment.
As perhaps ironic preparation for the safely melodic headliners, Cardiff-based Tarsiers brought a quasi-glam rock dynamic to proceedings, with beglittered frontman Mike O’Kane channelling the vocal range of Sparks’ Russell Mael and Robert Plant in an unearthly and vividly kooky performance. However, it often seemed that the band appreciated their free-form leanings more than the audience itself, with a lot of polite clapping from gig-goers expecting something less left field and more radio-friendly. Merging rewired funk with progressive elements, the set found traction with the art rock number Lipstick, the saxophonist’s delivery adding a dance punk edge to the ensemble’s already hybrid sound. This continued with Camel, which didn’t appear to be a tribute to the Canterbury prog band but was in similar experimental spirit.
Greeted by a mostly middle-aged crowd in the Moon Club, Flight Brigade took to the stage, lead vocalist Oliver Baines affecting an affable and wholesome rapport with seasoned fans in attendance. The seven-piece opened with 39 Steps, which showcased the chemistry between the harmonising vocals of Oliver and Miriam Baines, who brought a vitality to the set with a convulsive command of the electric violin. This lent to the outfit’s schizoid scope, shifting between mellow string plucking material to anthemic territory, jumping up and down the stage to tracks such as the as yet unreleased You Kill Me and slow burner Housefire. The crowd raucously demanded an encore, prompting inevitable playful quips with the attendees and a stomping rendition of Smoke & Wine, which brought considerable whooping approval and an apt closure to the evening.
words CHRIS HAMILTON-PEACH
