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Songs Of Innocence

Patti Smith has proved to be an inspired choice as this years Meltdown curator, eclipsing the previous years slightly tired predictable selections by Morrissey. Smith has not been afraid to not only pick some less obvious acts, but also try some "concept" evenings. Tonight's theme is William Blake's Songs of Innocence, broadened slightly to a general remit covering anything "for and about children". Whether the evening really worked as a concept or quite made an overall point is arguable but when you get a bill of almost casual extroadrieness, featuring three and a half hours of the finest (mostly) female talent of the last 40 years...who cares!?

The first minutes are engaging and mysterious. Bob Dylan's recorded voice ghosts on to the empty stage, sounding both ancient and fresh as he sings "Million Dollar Bash". Silent footage of a little boy capering to a record follows, the crowd giggled along at first, charmed, but it did perhaps last a little too long.

Miranda Richardson strode onto stage and delivered a beautiful Blake poem (Tilda Swinton does the honours later), but to honest she has a gift for delivery so magical she could read a bus timetable and made it sound like an angel whispering in our ears.

Then Patti Smith appears, to try to kick-start things in style. In her fifties, she looks like a grey-maned street urchin, still with most of the band that drove her on as one of New York punk's first voices in the '70s. Singing "Birdland", from her debut Horses , she plugs right into this occasions themes, mentioning fathers, sons, abandonment and peeled vision, her own words suggesting Blake's. She pumps her fists and speeds her voice till words are smashed together.

Next up an honorary male Billy Bragg, breathlessly en route to his own Meltdown gig next door. I'd actually been torn between going to this gig or Billy's so I was ecstatic to see the Bard of Barking appear. Before starting a Guthrie cover, Billy explained the songs subject matter: "this song is about being a child and wetting the bed...which reminds me of a dark winters night I spent at Morrissey's house." Apparently this refers to a tale about staying over at Morrissey's and when he went to bed it had a blue, medical plastic sheet on it which you use if you've got a habit of wetting the bed? Maybe it suits Morrissey's sense of humour to have them fitted to a guests bed without any explanation?
Either way Bragg went down a treat with his banter drawing as much applause as the song itself. He failed to rouse the audience into singing along about bedwetting, but a joy as always nevertheless.

Bragg, Richardson, Smith, and we're only 20 minutes in. Part of the thrill of this gig is you're never sure who is going to stroll onto stage next.
I've always wanted to see or more importantly hear Eliza Carthy's & her incredible voice. First up Eliza lent her mesmerising voice to a song about a woman burying her late child & husband in the soil. Cheery stuff, but her voice really is beautiful. At one point she joked about doing requests, and one member of the audience shouted out "Give us your t-shirt", perhaps referring to a very tight fitting t-shirt that Eliza was shall we say filling very well. I didn't hear what the next shout was but Eliza replied "what was that? Sing a happy song?!"
"what's the chances of that?! Slim to none!"

Beth Orton soon follows with another Guthrie song, explaining that she'd been bricking herself backstage when Billy Bragg said he was going to do a Guthrie track...What would she do if he did her one! Her version of "Don't Push Me Down" was one of the highlights of the evening, and not having seen her live before I was blown away by the power and emotion in her voice. Film footage of children in a street market, lost in their own worlds, added to a spine tingling 5 minutes.

The previous evening I had for some reason decided to go to another Meltdown evening with Yoko Ono. That gig is an entire blog entry in its own right, but suffice to say she is at the very least...different. Performing "Rising" one of the better songs from her 1995 album, she prowled the stage emitting guttural yelps and screeches. Half the audience sat with jaws open in shock, the other half giggled. She was backed by patti smiths house band, as I think she had been the previous night.

The next person on stage Tim Booth got a great response, especially when he joked:
"How on earth to you follow that"...Gesturing to an exiting Yoko. "It's like I've been let into an oasis of female icons!"
I have to admit I couldn't think where I knew Tim from but it soon became clear. He started with a track called "Lullaby", a song about child abuse to tie in with the theme of the evening, but it wasn't great to be honest. Next up he explained he was going to do his most famous song "Sit Down" for the first time since he left James. I have to admit I was never a great fan of the song, but it got the biggest responses of the evening and had shivers running down my spine. I would never have expected to be so moved, but it was truly an awesome version of the song stripped of its Manchester bagginess to reveal a aching explanation of adolescent awkwardness. He also claimed to have been inspired by Patti Smith when writing the song.




Time for one more act before the interval, and a baby grand was lugged onto stage followed by Tori Amos sweeping to the piano in a flowing concert gown, she squats on its stool, legs braced as if ready to run right through it. Private groans, growls and roars punctuate a set starting with "Silent All These Years". Tossing her red mane back, saying nothing, she is extreme and initially magnetic.

Silent All These Years
Mother Revolution
Winter
Pretty Good Year

After a while though her choice of material that had no allegiance to the event, the fact that she didn't say a single thing to the audience, and the general similarity of each track to the next left me craving an interval beer. Others obviously felt the same, as people started to wander in and out to the bar during her set. Save for a bow and a gesture at the end, she stayed aloof not saying a single thing to the audience unlike everyone else who performed. Her Ego however could have filled the South Bank all by itself.
At the end of her set people were getting really very weary and when she finished, en masse the audience leapt up and headed for the bar.

The second half gets off to a rip roaring start as Marianne Faithful strides onto stage in the tightest corset ive ever seen. She reminded me of a chieftain tank rolling onto stage, and her fantastic version of Working Class Hero had the audience on their feet, roaring and cheering. Truly breathtaking but, blimey, that corset must hurt! She also covered "God Bless The Child" and read Blake's startling "The Little Black Boy".

Kristin Hersh was a bit affectedly whiny, and did too many songs. She got a good response but to be honest after Marrianne it was like being starved after feasting.

Apart from reading Blake's poems with aplomb, Miranda Richardson also made a singing debut and boy is she blessed with a stunning folk voice. She said she was embarrassed to sing with a virtual Who's Who of revered women singer-songwriters of the past 35 years that had been assembled using what she called "Patti Power"...but she had no reason to. Outstanding.

Sinead O'Connor is someone I've always wanted to see live, and as tonight was her first outing in three years I was on tender hooks. The highlight of her acoustic performance had to be a simply beautiful acapella version of Scarlet Ribbons. She did have a habit of mumbling stuff about "Well, we're all kids aren't we?", and boy did she bang on about God, but overall it was a joy to hear her unique voice, although I can't help feeling I wasn't seeing a vintage O'Connor performance.

It was hard to tell where the show ended and the encores began, but at one point Patti's daughter was brought out to play piano, while her mum sang along.

Finally, Patti dragged the somewhat shy women on stage together like a nervous girls' school choir for a initially faltering and obviously unrehearsed encore. The song 'Inchworm', which many will know 'Hans Christian Anderson', built and built with everyone singing the repetitive mantra of multiplication as a backing to Patti's impassioned verse denouncing among other things the loss of childhood innocence, children working in factory's, and being armed for war.
What started out as shambolic gradually built up until by the end, with Sinead and Yoko hugging each other while backing Patti's verse, audience and performers caught up in what was a truly magical evening.

Walk on.....Oasis live...Liverpool Champions of Europe!

Antony & The Johnsons + Gonzales - Royal Festival Hall

His second LP "I Am a Bird Now" has received rave reviews from everyone from the New York Post to the Daily Star, celebrity fans queue up to either feature on or laud his work, and the style mags lap up his androgynous glamour...but could I persuade any bugger to go with me to the gig...could I hell! Maybe my sales pitch of a 6 foot 3 inch goth transvestite singing cabaret torch songs didn't help, and my attempts at pigeon holing him with Boy George, Divine, Nina Simone...Hedwig & The Angry Inch...registered only a mass reply of "I'm very sorry I'm washing my hair". So brandishing my expensively acquired ebay tickets, alone I went.

As the five Johnsons took to the stage, the audience buzzed with anticipation in that way you get at certain gigs where expectation and hype and the sense of an "event" lead to not knowing quite what to expect. It reminded me of the atmosphere at two other South Bank event gigs, the return of Brian Wilson and Kraftwerk (although Kraftwerk was a whole different level). Unfortunately as the Johnsons plucked out "Free at last" the audience, possibly expecting pink chiffon and bangs, failed to notice the black black hulking figure shuffling onto stage, and the rapture only arrived as he nervously took his seat at the grand piano.

If he looked nervous to start with his voice betrayed no signs, and whether reaching that perfect falsetto, or bringing it down to lovely understated deep bass tones, it was simply exquisite. Running through his catalogue of future classic torch songs, the crowd were spellbound. "You Are My Sister" oozed soul, even without Boy George who I'd half hoped would bless us with his bird shat dome. Nina Simones "Be My Husband" was performed stripped down and bare, and the stiff seats of the Royal Festival Hall crackled with emotion.
Antony is an easy target for the label of overwraught pretentiousness. His half-lit world of cabaret and charged lyrics such as "My lady story is one of annihilation, my lady story is one of breast amputation..." are certainly not easy going, but blessed with Antonys voice it is all moving rather than pretentious, or maybe beautiful despite its pretentiousness. Even "Cripple & The Starfish" was delivered with aching tenderness, despite seemingly being an ode to rough sex.

In one of the rare moments when Antony spoke to his audience, he introduced a man without whom he said he would not have been here on stage. Jaws across the hall hit the floor, as he uttered "ladies and gentlemen Marc Almond!" The whole place erupted to greet what was I believe Almonds first appearance since a motorbike accident last year nearly took his life. Stick thin and apparently taken aback by the roar that accompanied his entrance Almond looked unsure of himself and slightly overwhelmed:

"Twenty five years in the business and I'm shaking like a leaf"

When some of the noise subsided he pleaded for understanding that he hadn't really sung in a year, and he was sorry if he sounded a bit crap. He then belted out "River of Sorrow" in an almost gospel style, joined midway by Antony who's bassier tones complimented him perfectly.
As Almond left the stage, the audience seemed stunned into silence by what they had witnessed, never has the cliche "it made me want to have children so they could have children so that I could have grandchildren to tell them about it" applied so well. For a second the hall was awkward, as if to say well where do we go from there....Antony however punctured the awed silence with a perfectly timed camp adjustment of his lank mop, and deadpan delivery "Is my hair on straight?"

Reading the A&TJ message boards after the gig, the reviews of the evening are boarding on hyperbole, but his music inspires strong emotions, such as this from an american fan:

"I just turned 18 and I think I'm ready for my first relationship with a man. Antony's voice makes me yearn for his touch. I've never heard anything so beautiful in my life, I think I have a new obsession.
Norman, Ok USA"

While I can't say it made me yearn for the touch of a man, it was one hell of a gig.

Beck @ Islington Academy

Announced on the Friday, and sold out in 45 minutes, Islington Academy - a shopping centre store room with the soul sucked out of it - is the venue for the return of Beck Hanson. Ever since the Channel 4 sitcom Nathan Barley began, critical voices have complained that the East London fashionistas it satirises vanished years ago. You suspect critical voices would be immediately silenced upon entering the Islington Academy tonight. It's a sea of lamentable headgear and bleeding-edge mobile phone technology. At any moment, a game of cock, muff, bumhole might break out.

I'd dashed across London for the opening time of 730 due to a misguided fear that he wouldnt have support and we'd miss him, unfortunatly Beck didnt grace us with his presence until gone 930. Still that gave me two hours in which to ponder if the badly mixed selection of tunes was the much feted Mylo on the wheels of steel, or if infact they'd just stuck on a Dance Hits 40 CD. By 9 a lynching party could easily have been mustered just to get Mylo off the decks so we can get on with proceedings. "Ooh a DJ set!" people sneer sarcastically.

Having heard about Becks famed stage antics, from the famous MTV lights outfit to Princeesque splits it was a bit of a surprise when Beck ambled on stage in a black jacket, baseball cap pulled over his head, like a famous person in the street trying not be noticed.
It has to be said that at first I didnt even notice Beck due to the presence next to him of what can only be describded as the bastard love child of Jamiroqui and Jackie Chan. Bez lopes around stage, this guy bounds about in White plastic shades, white anorak, and white jeans with a beard that makes him look strangely like Noel Edmonds whose soul has been possesed by. He jazz danced, he karate chopped, he generally distracted everyone from Beck. I have to admit I laughed out loud, and pondered if the poor fella had been raised him on a diet of Breakdance Electric Boogaloo, and Metal Mickey VHS's.

Starting the set with a run of seven new songs, from an album that in theory no one in the audience had heard before (being law abiding citizens after all) is a tall order for any act let alone one struggling with a bad case of jet lag, and constantly fiddling with his vocal levels.

• ’Black Tambourine’
• ’Devil’s Haircut’
• ’Scarecrow’
• ’We Dance Alone’
• ’Guero’
• ‘Girl’
• ’Knock You Out’
• ’Missing’
• ’Go It Alone’

At this point an exasperated member of the audience starts to shout "Play an old song", and something about having paid to come here, and not expecting to be treated as lab rats for his new material. The crowd murmured its disaproval, perhaps annoyed that someone had read their mind. Beck put up with his ranting for a while before curtly instructing him to "Shut Up", adding "Shut the fuck up" incase he hadnt quite got the message. He then launched into another new track 'Broken', leaving the heckler to despairingly ask "Is this old!!??"

• ’Broken’

Then at last 'Where It's At' is wheeled out, sounding as fresh and vital as it did in 1996, and dedicated tonight to Mr "Play something Old"

• ’Where It’s At’

' Im baking a cake , im calling your grandma ' - Hell Yes is another great track from the superb Guero but live with a wilting, jet-lagged Hansen and a venue expertly designed to eradicate every drop of atmosphere from a gig, their languorous charms shrivel up a bit. Some have suggested that the new stuff is "little too mature, a little two worthy, a little too world... The frenzy and the fun substituted for funk that borders on muso. Think latter day David Byrne with a stick up his ass."
Personally I think maybe its not quite as strong as his old stuff or perhaps it'll just take time before we declare them classics.

>

• ‘Hell Yes’
• ’Rental Car’
• ’Emergency Exit’

If some of the new material doesnt set the place alight, then new single E-Pro is a definate exception...its the most ridiculously catchy song he's ever written. The audience pogo, the dancing DLT whirls like a dervish, and everone sings along as if they've known it all their lives. I just wish he could have played the amazing Gameboy themed remix.

• ’E-Pro’

Ending the set with a psyched up funked out version of 'Get Real Paid' which I have to admit I didnt recognise (I'm not a Beck afficianardo).

• ’Get Real Paid’

While it was a privelidge to see Beck in such a small venue, it did seem a little lack lustre in places to me and to the audience as a whole judging from the reaction. Maybe it was the jet lag, maybe the shopping centre venue...but i'd love to see him when he's had a good nights sleep.

...And this is our final number - Camden Crawl 05

After seven years away the Camden Crawl returned to....well Camden mostly. A chance for only 15 english pounds to catch 40 of the hottest upcoming bands at ten venues spread across NW1, or to look it another way, your unique opportunity to miss 35 of the hottest upcoming bands in one fun filled evening.
The Crawl ignored the unwritten gig laws of putting all the crap on early, and kicked off at 7pm sharp with Art Brut, 80's MatchBox, Departure, The Others and Hot Chip. This is unfortunate as we rocked up fashionably late at 7.30.
After collecting our wrist bands, the slightly unwise choice to see Hot Chip was made, and after much walking a steady realisation came over us that the Camden Crawl was a fairly loose label, and that "The Camden and almost all the way to Kentish Town tube crawl" would have been a more accurate if slightly unwieldy title. Anyway we arrived at Bullet just in time to see Hot Chip announce....

"and this is our last number...thank you"

From what i heard I wish I'd caught the rest of the set as they sounded much like they do on record only with added man on moogtastic duty turning as many ancient synthlike knobs as fast as is humanly possible with only two hands.

For the 8pm slot we headed back into Camden, initially to see Sons & Daughters, but after seeing the size of the queue made the decision to check out Maximo Park at KoKo, and perhaps stick our heads round the door of a few other venues on the way. I'd never heard of "Drive like you stole it" before but based on the proximity of the door to the pavement we ambled in.



DLYSI certainly injecting a bit of Rawk into an otherwise indiefied atmosphere reaching a creshendo when having whipped up a "mighty storm of rock", the venues electricity supply took a strop and deceided that frankly it didnt need this kind of hassle and could just as easily have a quiet night in providing the sophorific Magic Numbers with 40 volts. The venue was plunged into darkness to the delight of the crowd.
Mel & Simon Young who together witha drummer I didnt notice on the night, obviously abandoned an early ploy to pretend to be brother/sister/husband/wife on the grounds that such a dull ruse would never get them any publicity, concentrating instead on creating a Foo Fighters-esque noise with tunes thrown in for good measure. At five foot nought, lead singer Mel produces a sound with tardis like qualities...that is to say hidden behind in her case a beautiful yet bonsi like figure lies a sound "powerful enough to knock God off his throne in the sky and send him tumbling earthwards" http://www.drivelikeyoustoleit.co.uk/.
Simon is also gifted with the ability to create a noise that makes it appear that his head retracts back at the jawline, like somekind of crazed rock sunroof, with his words free to propel out unfetered by the restrictions of the upper part of his head.....but perhaps I'm exaggerating a little!?
Anyway they were a pleasant surprise, and caused us to arrive at KoKo just in time to hear the catch phrase of the evening "Thank you, this is our final number". Again from the sound of just one number Maximo Park seemed pretty good live but who can tell with only one track.

Realising that the beer to walking ratio was badly out of kilter we decieded to stay at KoKo and catch The Magic Numbers followed by headliners Goldie Looking Chain, not to mention taking in what is a beautiful old venue. A couple of songs into The Magic Numbers however we realised that they were really quite dull, and an attempt to get to see Graham Coxon was the only option. To be fair i've liked the few bits of Magic Numbers i've heard before, but on stage they seemed a bit like the Polyphonic Spree only stripped of their capes, numbers, joy, and most impotantly the tunes. The only point of interest seemed to be that all four members had long hair, but ZZ Top tried that with beards and even they shaved them off eventually, and at least their tunes had legs!



In all honestly I didnt rate our chances of getting in to see Graham Coxon given that the Dublin Castle is just a pub, and as expected the 4000 plus punters that had been milling around Camden, had by 10:15 made the decision to form an orderly queue outside. Gutted at not seeing Coxon but determined to miss the rest of The Magic Numbers we tried to catch the end of "The Black Velvets" at the Bull&Gate. We joined the queue, and could just about hear the set from within, peaking through a side door to see the drumkit in action, but a muffled "thank you london, this is our final number" filtered out through the door, and we opted to skip Hope of the States (good, but seen them before) and return to the GLC at KoKo.



Goldie Lookin' Chain seemed to be the ugly duckling of the headline acts and the grand old Camden Palace was barely half full when they bounded onto the stage. It seemed like an odd choice to pick a rap act (albiet a novelty one) and put them in one of the biggest venues on an essentially indie or at least guitar fest of an evening. GLC seemed uneffected by the sparse crowd, and worked their way through their reportoir of gags, singalong chorus's, and clever references to long forgotten hiphop tracks, although this being an NME reading audience perhaps that should be never heard of hiphop tracks, leaving them pondering if Scott La Rock was a Glaswegian metal act. They were entertaining, certainly put on a good show, and the singles together with the hillarious "Shit On You" & "Man Machine" brought a big smile to the face...unfortunatly it seemed to just go on a bit, becoming very samey..and although the smile was still there as they headed back to Gosforth services it was a little forced.

Being a lite weight, and also due to the queue at the Electric ballroom, we decieded to catch the last tube, and call it a night. I hadnt seen many, actually any, of the people I wanted to see, but somehow that didnt matter that much. I'll definitly be crawling again in 2006, where else can you fit in as many "and this is our final numbers" in one night?

Rufus Wainwright Live @ Virgin

I dont think Virgin anticipated the numbers that would come to this free Rufus Wainwright gig/signing as by the time he came on stage the place was cramed to the rafters and desperate latecomers were fluttering eyelashes at the security (and that was just the men).
First time i'd seen Mr Wainwright and as i'd heard some poor reviews of his live shows - I was told he was wack live, which i think is bad - I wasnt sure what to expect.
He played a short but raptourously received set, and I have to say I was impressed, although he is one of the campest musicians i've ever seen (perhaps beaten only by Rammstien).
Thanks to abstractboy for the pic uptop.
Set list:
The One You Love.
This Love Affair
The Art Teacher (next single??)
Crumb By Crumb.
The next song Gay Messiah was introduced as being about a 'Gay armageddon... armaGAYdon' He was well amused by that..and uped his campness to the max with his delight. He also said it felt like he was playing in a pub on a Saturday afternoon - said it felt 'very Commitments'.
Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk closed the set.



I then queued up to get my brothers CD inlay signed with explicit instructions to sign the inside not the cover. As I was ushered through by security I grabbed a copy of the album to sign but found myself as the next person to meet Rufus...and then in front of Rufus as I wrestled with the security tag and wrapping on my new cd. I handed him my brothers inlay and mumbled about the inside, as I contined a fruitless fight to free my cd..eventually leading to a very red faced me as Rufus waited patiently while I eventually managed to get the damn cover off. Never mind, a tad embarrassing but at least I know that I could never theive cd's for a living.

I'll leave the last comment to Damascus from the Rufus Wainwright forum:

"I thought his outfit looked deliciuos! Honestly, the chocolate browns, and the shiny striped trousers made me think of yummy things, like caramel and chocolate mousse. mmmmmm. Rufus, dahling, you make me drool!"

Well I thought the er..music was very good.

All I Want: A Portrait of Rufus Wainwright will air on Channel 4 (UK) on March 12, 2005 at 11:30 PM.



On the way back to the tube I nipped into HMV, and what do you know but Kaiser Chiefs were doing a sound check for a free gig later in the evening. Sounded pretty good from the couple of songs I heard, and according to NME they went down a storm.
http://www.nme.com/news/111639.htm

Two free gig's in one evening - reminds me why I love living in London sometimes.