SWN FESTIVAL | LIVE REVIEW
SKY LARKIN / RADSTEWART / CHEATAHS (Clwb Ifor Bach, Thurs 17)
If you weren’t around in 1993 and ever wondered what music sounded like way back when then you could do a lot worse than listen to Cheatahs: a London-based four-piece whose fuzzy jangle and breathy vocals bring to mind Swervedriver and their ilk, although thankfully without the same preoccupation with footwear. In the live arena, or room in this case, the strength of Cheatahs’ songwriting abilities is evident as the hooks and melodies seep through the noise and burrow deep down into the unconscious. The evidence? I’m still whistling Flake and it’s a week later.
Continuing with the early-90s revisited vibe are Cardiff’s own Radstewart, arch indie-popsters with an ear for a tune and a penchant for the most sardonic of lyrics. Still mere fledglings in the grand scheme of things, Radstewart are ever-improving and their set(s) were a little bit of a triumph, with damn good fun being had by both band and audience alike. Probably not for everyone, but they provide an answer to the eternal question of what Eddie Argos fronting an amalgamation of Pavement and Weezer would sound like.
Fresh from the recent(ish) release of the excellent Motto, it’s hard to shake the feeling that Sky Larkin are on the cusp of something great. As the delvings into the back catalogue show, the talent was always there, usually under a layer of guitar fuzz; but it is on newer material such as the propulsive Loom that they sound utterly essential. In Katie Harkin the group possess a mean guitarist and a lyricist capable of creating genuine emotion with just a few lines, and together with the tightest of rhythm sections Sky Larkin put my faith back in punk rock over the course of 45 fantastic minutes. (NM)
CALL BACK THE GIANTS / EARLY HOMINIDS / TULUUM SHIMMERING / HIS NAKED TORSO (The Moon Club, Thurs 17)
Four acts hosted by a fellow named Iain, trading here as Celestial Communications and offering Swn’s sole evening of unfettered experimental oddness. Cardiff duo His Naked Torso open the bill, a yelping guitarist and synth-playing drummer combining on gnarly but good-natured nuggets of 90s-style no wave; if they existed in decades previous, and lived in Chicago or San Francisco, they might have appeared on a label like Skingraft or Three One G.
Tuluum Shimmering is a solo artist who uses loop pedals and an array of instruments one might reductively call ‘ethnic’. Flutes, bells and a stringed instrument that’s like a cross between a lute and a kora (I could look it up and pretend I recognised it, but honestly the stakes aren’t high enough to make it worth my while) are gradually added to the mix, until a climactic droning peak is attained. It’s deceptively simple, but easy to lose yourself in.
Two middle-aged men, one of whom (Neil Campbell) looks he should be a pick-up artist, Early Hominids are the harshest turn of the evening, making hyperactive improvised noise that might have been somehow generated using the flashlights both are holding (although these might have just been for visual appeal). The pair hail from a venerable British tradition of uncompromising free music assault, although quite often I’m left imagining a set by, say, Skrillex, if you took all the rhythms and melodies out and just had the ear-bleeding midrange synth bits remaining.
By the time Call Back The Giants, a cheerful-faced Englishman named Tim and his two keyboards, takes the stage there are less than 10 people watching. His assortment of drones, samples and inexplicable lyrics are peculiarly addictive, though, especially if you enjoy(ed) the sort of music James Ferraro made while still in Skaters. Mind you, there probably aren’t many of those people in Cardiff either. (NG)
EVERYTHING EVERYTHING / DUTCH UNCLES (Great Hall, Cardiff University Students Union, Thurs 17)
The biggest show of the long weekend was undoubtedly this. Eager not to miss a note, the Great Hall was packed to the rafters with an audience eager to take in two of the bands du jour, and this is even before the sun had gone down. The polyrhythms began with Dutch Uncles and the inimitable and uncontrived flailing-limb dance moves of lead singer David Wallis. To straddle the uneasy line between the cerebral and the accessible is never the easiest of tasks but “de ooms” do just that, forging pure pop sensibilities with an enormous electronic marimba and the most befuddling of time signatures. They go down a storm with Flexin’, especially, received as if sent from on high.
Striding confidently onstage to rapturous applause, Everything Everything really can’t miss. That’s not to say that they are mere products of an unwarranted hype machine: their music is of an undeniable quality, all at once complex yet danceable in ways unthought of in the not too distant past. The likes of Suffragette Suffragette and the scatterfire delivery of Kemosabe rile the audience up a treat but it’s with the mega single Cough Cough that the audience collectively lose theirs and the roof of the Great Hall is wholly and entirely blown off. (NM)
GHOSTPOET (The Angel Hotel, Thurs 17)
At first The Angel Hotel seemed like an odd choice of venue for a musician whose creative blend of hip-hop, poetry and quirky noises has seen him nominated for the Mercury Prize. The back rooms of the hotel, however, offered an intimate and chilled out atmosphere. It was the perfect venue for an artist with charm, a cool sense of modesty and (most importantly) plenty of talent. Relatively new to the world of Ghostpoet, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from a live performance but I was far from disappointed. Obaro Ejimiwe and his band were both exciting and relaxing to watch and soon sent the crowd into a trance of dance. Popular singles Liiines and Meltdown got great reactions to the crowd, but those even during the newer and less well known track people we’re listen close to poetic lyrics and bobbing up and down to odd noise and interesting beats. The gig suffered from one or two small technical difficulties but the intimate and involved nature of the show more than made up for it. (HA)
MR. SCRUFF (Solus, Cardiff University Students Union, Thurs 17)
Guaranteed good times are what Mr. Scruff brings to whatever party it is that he is at, and unsurprisingly this is what is achieved over the course of five sweaty hours of jazz, soul and funk spliced with beats both big and break. It would take the most joyless of misers not to enjoy themselves in the company of Mr. Scruff, but the sweat dripping off the walls indicates that there’s no-one of that disposition present as this party goes on and on and on and on… (NM)
BEARD OF WOLVES / RADKEY / RIGHT HAND LEFT HAND (Dempseys, Fri 18)
If you had heard but never seen Right Hand Left Hand before, you would be forgiven for wondering how such a sound could be recreated by the apparently unassuming duo who amble into the corner of Four Bars. With the drums a constant pounding presence, it’s via the phalanx of pedals, electronic gizmos and frequent instrument-swapping that Right Hand Left Hand create their densely organised chaos; and although this isn’t the place to come to for variety, the band are an intense and patently powerful proposition.
As we have seen over the years, being both teenagers and brothers makes for good copy, but this would count for nothing if Radkey had nothing else going for them. Happily they do. If you like your brains bad, and it would appear from the size of the assembled crowd that many do, then the breakneck hardcore of these adolescent Missourians is right up your street. Breathlessly energetic, fuelled on by Haribo, the brothers headbang and pogo their way through a blistering set and made many new friends with their enthusiasm and passion.
North Walian noise-oik duo Beard of Wolves ratchet up the intensity yet further with their unique brand of mayhem, think a slightly more aggressive Death From Above 1979 or on the other hand a slightly less aggressive Lightning Bolt; either way it’s a damn side more mental than most. Dab hands with a title My Father Drives The Death Star and My Pet Rhianna (apparently not about her) are belted out, as is Wet Mouth, which I’d like to imagine is playing on a continuous loop in a no doubt terrifying alternate universe somewhere dark, way beyond the stars. (NM)
DRENGE / PINKUNOIZU / BO NINGEN / ALEX DINGLEY BAND / WOLF ALICE / HEAVY PETTING ZOO / TOTEM TERRORS (Clwb Ifor Bach, Fri 18)
While I have spent countless enjoyable evenings in this venue over the years, and anticipate more, the prospect of seven uninterrupted hours within its walls is a limit-tester. It’s necessary if one wants to watch all the listed bands, however; far more people wish to attend than can legally fit in the building, and anyone ducking out is unlikely to gain re-entry. The lower floor of Clwb Ifor Bach is busy as early as 7pm, when Totem Terrors kick off with a typically infectious set of drum-machined, indiepop-informed postpunk. Swansea’s Heavy Petting Zoo, who follow them, face a far bigger crowd than they’d likely otherwise encounter, but respond buoyantly with a set of bluesy indie-punk harking back to the first couple of Yeah Yeah Yeahs releases. Can’t say I’m wholly sold on their unique selling point, a dancer who busts moves front of stage while sporting brothel creepers, but I may be in the minority.
Wolf Alice play middling, mannered placeholder indie and, beyond basic competence, don’t have any interesting elements. Alex Dingley Band, the bill’s sole Welsh language turn, pack the stage with a six-person lineup – all of whom were no doubt delighted to get a weekend wristband for their troubles – and come on like a sort of raggle-taggle Pixies, to vaguely agreeable effect. They have a pronounced fanbase in the building, but Anglo-Japanese psychedelic punks Bo Ningen are the primary source of the queueing-in-the-rain woe. Having hotfooted over from an earlier appointment in Cardiff, supporting hard rock hokum peddlers The Cult, they tune up briefly and then deliver no tunes to speak of. It’s loud, rangy and proto-metallic, and always seems to be in the midst of a solo or about to rip into one. Festivals like Swn may briefly distort Bo Ningen’s popularity (they played last year too, in similarly oversubscribed circumstances), but they fully deserve to pack the odd room out, so hey.
Danish band Pinkunoizu are markedly less ear-scouring, employing similar levels of psychedelia but little if any punk. Their music is intricate and, um, soundscapey, and tends to orbit blithely rather than seeking out defined targets. It could have tanked in front of a weekend/midnight crowd eager for quick rewards, but they seem to be well received, and rightly so. We finish with Drenge, two young shavers dressed in pyjamas – possibly referencing the fact that they don’t play until 1.15am – who despite their guitar’n’drums setup, comfortably whup Bo Ningen’s ass in the volume stakes. They basically sound like an electric blues band playing Nirvana songs, which is not going to change the course of musical history but, when played with this much vim, is a perfectly enjoyable way to round off seven hours of cabin fever. (NG)
MACHO CITY / JEMMA ROPER (Jacob’s Antiques, Sat 19)
Two sets around suppertime, amidst a packed bill of acts picked by the often great Peski label. Both are debut live outings, of a kind: in the case of Jemma Roper, she’s been performing under her own name for a couple of years now (and in bands for over a decade before that), but her backing group has endured enforced lineup alterations aplenty. Today there are two brand new guitarists, making the Jemma Roper band a three-axed lineup when Roper herself occasionally contributes guitar. Musically, they encompass Wire-like postpunk and Banshees-ish gothic rock, arriving at an icily dramatic midpoint; there’s plenty of wit involved, at least in the between-song chatter, but when it comes to songcraft it’s serious, not zany, and ought to be treated as such.
Macho City are a live electronic project comprising Hywel Evans and Iwan Parris of Truckers Of Husk, who have been quiet in the last 18 months. On the evidence of this (and Touchstone Pictures, a similarly new and synth-based solo effort by TOH drummer Rhod Thomas), they’ve used their downtime very well. Dance music made by people known for being in rock bands – Evans was also a member of Jarcrew and, briefly, Future Of The Left – is in danger of attracting cynicism, but Macho City goes straight for the jugular, and bears very little resemblance to TOH’s complex arrangements. Fans of Legowelt and his Dutch electro/techno peers, and the sort of lo-fi jams found on the 100% Silk label, should investigate ASAP. (NG)
MONEY / SWEET BABOO (The Moon Club, Sat 19)
Beginning by announcing that he would be performing without his usual backing band and brass section, the stalwart of the Welsh music scene that is Sweet Baboo made the stage of the Moon Club his own with an enchanting performance that held the room captive from the beginning with The Morse Code For Love Is Beep Beep, Beep Beep, The Binary Code Is One One. As the packed room collectively swooned as soon, Sweet Baboo continued about his business with the minimum of fuss but with a level of sincerity and emotion that is refreshing to see in these irony-deploying times.
It isn’t a surprise to find that The Moon Club is absolutely choc-a-bloc for the performance of Money when considering the critical fawning that accompanied the release of debut Shadow Of Heaven. In frontman Jamie Lee the group have a leader with genuine charisma and a handy knack for a poetic phrase or two, and it’s he who drives this performance and enraptures the assembled horde. Given their success to this point and the sheer scope and ambition of their music, it is highly unlikely that Money will be playing rooms of this size for very much longer. (NM)
THE WYTCHES / CLIPPING / FIST OF THE FIRST MAN (Clwb Ifor Bach, Sat 19)
Fist Of The First Man are proponents of the sort of brooding intensity, aggressive tones and ceaselessly repetitive rhythms that have kept Steve Albini angry for all of these years. Immersing oneself in their music is like going 12 rounds with an enormous Stratocaster with boxing gloves. The duelling squalls of chainsaw-like guitar and bottom-end shaking bass are not for the faint of heart or the sensitive of hearing, but in this brutal attack they are also captivating; just don’t expect a ballad. (NM)
Clipping followed by The Wytches isn’t the smoothest of musical transitions, it should be said. This would also be the case had Clipping been followed by just about any other act playing this year’s Swn. A trio from LA, two members lurk behind laptops and generate explosive, glitchy noise – something like a Mego Records version of Prurient – while Daveed Diggs raps in quickfire, profane fashion and semi-successfully hypes up a meek crowd. Inevitably compared to Death Grips, if anything Clipping are what Death Grips would sound like to your grandparents. If you’re a bit masochistic, they’re great fun, although not exactly one for hip-hop purists: the disconnect between music and MC seems pretty much total.
Brighton-based and something of a ‘hype band’ – why, it wouldn’t surprise me if they even had ‘blog buzz’ – The Wytches are possibly the pleasantest surprise of this reporter’s Swn. ‘Pleasant’ is possibly the wrong word for their noisy, downward-spiralling take on psychedelia and goth/deathrock, but I was ‘surprised’ to be reminded of The Wipers and Killdozer among other ancient luminaries; Kristian Bell’s wracked vocals help to build up the uneasy atmosphere. It looks like they’re already hooked up with big-baller UK rock industry connections, so at least they might get to tour with some crap milky indie band and scare their fans a lil’. (NG)
LANTERNS ON THE LAKE (The Angel Hotel, Sun 20)
Amidst surely the most crowded stage of the festival, the many multi-instrumentalists that make up Lanterns On The Lake are the perfect band for a festival that is starting to wind down and whose punters are drizzle drenched and starting to feel the last three days’ festivities catching up with them. Most recent release Until The Colours Run confirmed the band as capable of moments of haunting beauty, but live it’s not just melancholy that informs their performance as the band often cuts loose the shackles, which only serves to heighten those quieter moments of introspection. (NM)
PLAYLOUNGE (Fuel, Sun 20)
Bounding on stage with all the enthusiasm of youth, Playlounge crash straight into a set full of high energy garage-punk with a smile to match that of the duo who make up the band. The duo’s high octane approach is deceptively simple, as there are glittering and bittersweet pop hooks embedded in the incessantly bouncing music which are not obvious amid the initial rush of white heat. In what feels like the time it takes for my feet to touch the ground after the first pogo the entire set has flashed by, leaving me and many others wanting more. (NM)
TEMPLES / TELEGRAM (Clwb Ifor Bach, Sun 20)
Telegram appear to have it all; the looks, the songs and by dint of a recent support slot with the Manic Street Preachers, the recognition. Their glam-tinged punk is carefree and rowdy, and in debut single Follow, performed here excellently, they have refined the classic formula of a gargantuan riff leading to a memorable chorus before closing with a wig-out. That they have accomplished so much in such a short time is quite remarkable, as they hone their craft they will no doubt be worth keeping a keen eye on.
The psych-rock revival shows no sign of abating, especially not in the hands of Temples and their Bolan-a-like enigmatic lead singer
James Bagshaw. Only three singles into their career, Temples are picking a head of steam, and they carry this momentum into the performance, which is exuberance incarnate. Although a fine band already, the potential that there’s more to come is evident in Colours To Life which is bursting with ideas, a slew of harmonies and kaleidoscopic melodies. Best get your paisley on for the next time they come to town. (NM)
words: HEATHER ARNOLD, NOEL GARDNER, NICK MERRIMAN
photos: JAMES COHEN
