Death By Venue

Why? That was what Arcade Fire's biggest ever gig left me wondering last night..why were the booked in to a supersized arena (14,000 people)just to be let down by a lacklustre crowd and a poor atmosphere.

You could tell something was wrong even before the doors opened, the eager crowd barely constituted a handful. When first support band Wild Light, a New Hampshire outfit playing just the sort of melodic indie pop that would get you in the mood for AF, took to the stage it may just as well have been a sound check. The venue was practically empty, and as for the reaction they got...well, what's the sound of one Jox clapping? Even the in between set "text your message to get on the scoreboard" feature got more attention that what seemed a tight and interesting band. (But for some reason my message "This venue has no soul" didn't make it to the screen).

Next up were long established Liverpool based band Clinic whose booming beats and snarling guitars gave of an air of Kasabian, but mixed with old-skool punk interjections and freaky folk flashbacks. Yet still this didn't seem like enough to shake the crowd out of their stupour. After two good bands were largely ignored by the now swelling crowd, I wondered if anything would raise th excitement levels. Cue the arrival of the candy-floss vendors. This finally seemed to get the crowd on their feet where two fevered performances had failed. Seriously, (to paraphrase Barry) How can someone with no interest in music go to a rock show?

Then Arcade Fire took to the stage. Surely this would spark the audience into overdrive. Nope. Now don't get me wrong, the sparks were there...the band exploded with effervescent splendour, but somehow this energy failed to make the leap across the barrier. The indie rock rapscallions could barely control themselves, but the audience remained reserved. Even the cry of "you can sit down on sunday" failed to raise them from their seats. Musically too the band were on top form, giving the songs untold depth whilst the stage set-up, film-noir projections of the on stage antics added ann sense of effortless class. But still the crowd remained un-responsive, and not in an awe struck way, but in one that reeked of self-consciousness and dissipated all the energy that the band projected. I had imagined (Antichrist Television Blues) (the second song in the set) to be filled with heartfelt cries of "I don't want to work in a building downtown", but this life-affirming maxim seemed only to appeal to the band, and it's declaration did not carry to the crowd. Even stand out hits No Cars Go and Tunnels failed to raise much more than a riffle of excitement. The anthemic majesty of Wake Up did, however live up to it's name, but coming at the end of the encore, after the inspiring Intervention it seemed like too little too late from the crowd.

Arcade Fire should be a perfect live band. Their songs are uplifting with a spirituality that should not fail to enliven the audience, but last night they were let down. The band should not be blamed for this, they put in as much as they could to create a frenzied on stage display, but for some reason the fans weren't biting. Even the band seemed to sense the lack of reciprocation, "it's not fucking Tuesday" Win cried to rally the crowd. Indeed it was a real shame, the show let down by a lack of atmosphere amongst those who should be the most frenzied, but perhaps we must conclude that the Neon Bible belongs in the chapel not the cathedral.

Jesca Hoop - Kismet

9 Stars out of Ten

Reared on a mixture of Mormonism and folk music, Jesca Hoop has since lived in the wilderness of Arizona’s homesteads and served as a nanny for Tom Waits. Now her debut album Kismet sees all the influences synergized into an off-balance cacophony, a collection of tunes still half-wild, dancing through the outskirts of the forest with a restless sense of freedom.
Summertime opens the album with the ominous cackle of a crow, subsiding into sweeping, ecstatic vocals which carry a rejoicing gospel influences before plunging into a sultry verse. Grabbing you by the hand, this track pulls you deeper into the forest from which it appeared, this glimpse of life drawing you closer. The reward for following the path is the fireside folk of Seed of Wonder, a track which seems at times tribal, bursting with an occult like energy. Burst of music seem to appear from the undergrowth, almost invisible in the flickering light hiding as much as they reveal. The result is an uplifting trance-like journey, which despite leaving you dazed and confused fills the soul with an ecstatic glee. But this does not last for long as foreboding heavy breathing fills the procession’s place. Enemy sees the listener awake into the most traditional strong so far. A delicate folk piece of vocals and guitar, which glimmers and dances like the dappled sunlight pouring through the green canvas this intrigues and enchants with it’s ferocious simplicity and beauty. The childlike vocals of Silverscreen are keen to break this dream however, as their innocence is paired with menacing strings to create a truly terrifying juxtaposition of naivety and knowingness, a feeling that gives way as the vocals become more cutting.
Shining forth however as the most beautiful track on an album streaming with splendour is the incandescent Love is All We Have. Sounding timeless with its Celtic overtones, it mystifies and teases, drawing on the imagination, liberating the listener and transporting them through time and space to a dreamlike netherworld. Light as air, this insubstantial mist of a song possesses an almost organic quality, intricate and delicate as a spider’s web. But even closing track Love and Love Again is unremitting in its mystique. A fluttering piano carries an otherworldly singing style like a leaf in a breeze, intoxicating and engrossing your mind.
This entire album shines with an effortless glimmer. It constantly effuses a charming, somewhat magical aura, appearing through the wild forest like a secretive coven, drawing you into its rhythms and melodies and releasing you from the body that weighs you down. Indeed much of the record’s brilliance comes from it’s own lack of weight – airy and unsubstantial, the record flutters through your conscious with an elegant glide. Whimsical and well-constructed, this record should captivate many a heart.

Review as written on MOG

It Begins...

The rain cascades down the dimly lit window, a silhouette peers down into the dirty streets below. A figure, far to smartly dressed for this downtrodden side of town darts from a taxicab below across the street. Shaking of the rain the figure slowly begins to climb the stairs leading up to the office where the silhouette still lingers. As the door opens the office remains half in darkness, the man at the window flicks the ash from his cigarette and begins to speak to his visitor, his back still turned to the door...

You need my help, right?

How do I know that?..well, people only come round these parts if they're looking for help or if they're looking for trouble, and judging by the way you scurried across that street you ain't one for trouble.

Now I don't care who you are, what you've done or who you're fucking..heck, if I wanted to know that I already would. My job's to track down the top tunes in these mean streets and deliver them to you...no questions asked. I find the bands, you pay my bills. Just remember the rules of the game: If anyone asks you never met me, you never knew me and you sure as hell never paid me. Keep this in mind and we'll be fine...forget it, and well, you know what they say "No man, no problem."

So, what is it you want me to do?