MUSIC | Reviews
FOLK/ ROCK KING CREOSOTE Oran Mor, Glasgow, Wed 10 Apr ●●●●●
Following on from his low-key appearance on the fringes of Fence’s Gnomegame festival in Anstruther the weekend before, Kenny Anderson was playing the second date of a monstrous month-long UK solo tour here, the first coming the day before in Shetland. It would be a busy few weeks for any musician, but especially one with a crutch and a stookie who’s been laid up for the last two months with a nasty ankle break (he did it carrying wood) and who spent the entire show in his seat.
Laughing that ‘this is my second day out’, Anderson (King Creosote himself) acknowledged a slightly odd atmosphere in which he was by some turns tetchy – understandably so, if the leg had him in pain – and by others obviously thrilled to be out and before an audience to chat and joke with. Obviously annoyed by a malfunctioning mic, he also railed against people’s apparent inability to pay for music, plugging the forthcoming self-released album which he recorded in January with the statement ‘it’s cheap, you could get a cab to Central Station for what I’m charging, or a couple of pints at the bar.' There will, he says, be ‘no download codes’ involved in the sale of this all-physical product.
As a highly prolific songwriter with a real
emotional range and breadth, it should perhaps come as little surprise given the circumstances that Anderson’s new songs rest upon a sense of good-natured melancholy, with ‘Impossible to Resist’ bemoaning a harsh truth to its addressee that ‘you don’t like me in the same way that you did’ and ‘Future Wives’ belying his jovial chat about trying to find one of the same in Glasgow with a real bittersweet edge. There was also a well-adapted cover of Gillian Welch’s ‘Everything is Free’, although it did suffer lyrical adaptation at the end to fit in with a recurring theme of Anderson’s (‘everything is free now – except my music’). Amidst it all there were also some of Anderson’s finest catalogue moments, judiciously selected to suit the circumstances here (Anderson on guitar, a percussionist sitting next to him and obviously nothing that required standing up or jumping around), among them ‘So Forlorn’, the buoyant ‘On the Night of the Bonfire’ and ‘Homerun and a Vow’. He played he and Jon Hopkins’ ‘Third Swan’, introducing it as how he makes a living (a huge radio hit in Latvia, apparently) and finished the main set – although there was no way he was walking off and on again for the encore, so he mimed it – with the epically downbeat ‘Not One Bit Ashamed’. (David Pollock)
76 THE LIST 18 Apr–16 May 2013
POLITICAL ROCK/FOLK STEVE MASON King Tut’s, Glasgow, Tue 9 Apr ●●●●●
The beered-up battalion swarming the venue are celebrating like a home game victory. Why wouldn’t they be on this Tuesday? (Insert obvious Thatcher comment here.) But it’s Mason’s danceable, wry mid- tempo indie that's the primary source of the crowd’s adulation. Fresh after new album, Monkey Minds in the Devil’s Time, we find Mason (known to some as King Biscuit Time, Black Affair or ‘him from The Beta Band’) suitably dry, but in high spirits. He might not be the most exciting performer tonight, visually or indeed musically (unless you worship casual use of a tambourine) but his songs are skewed with personal and social commentary cut from the same cloth as the majority of his fans – mostly middle-aged men from predominantly ‘working class’ Scotland – and it is clear that there is a deep personal and musical connection present, with even newer songs such as the rousing, ‘Oh My Lord’ meeting raised glasses, big cheers and glassy- eyed singalongs. By the time he hits ‘Come to Me’, the place is a mess. From a performance standpoint, the show might lack flair or punch, but you can tell the loyal are going home with bruises. (Ryan Drever)
EXPERIMENTAL FESTIVAL COUNTERFLOWS Various venues, Glasgow, Fri 5–Sun 7 Apr ●●●●● Opening the second Counterflows, Gareth Dickson’s shimmering folk reveries herald the spectral blues and mesmeric spoken word of Loren Connors and Suzanne Langille. As darkness falls, Japanese underground legend Kan Mikami declaims and howls his rockabilly-tinged avant- blues, duck-walking onstage while drummer Alex Neilson skitters and roils. Armed with accordion, minimal electronics and intentionally detached vocals, Lina Lapetyte’s Candy Shop renders hip hop braggadocio and misogynist sex rhymes both ridiculous and unsettling. Thomas Ankersmit’s (above) set up of modular synth and digital processing conjures an array of inorganic rumbles and shrill sine waves; a capricious counterpart to Phill Niblock’s warm, enveloping drones and films of fishermen at work. On the Stereo dancefloor, London sax, drums and electronics trio lll (cid:1) slay with their angular skronk ‘n’ scrape. Jandek follows, his curdled blues and unnerving visions animated by Alex Neilson's exploratory percussion and Richard Youngs’ lurching bass. An inspirational weekend. (Stewart Smith) For a longer version, see list.co.uk.
FOLK MEETS FILM FUAIM IS SOLAS Douglas Robertson Photography, Edinburgh, Thu 4 Apr ●●●●● POST-PUNK CASUAL SEX Nice ‘n’ Sleazy, Glasgow, Fri 5 Apr ●●●●●
With the location shrouded in mystery until the last minute, those who sought out film collective Screen Bandita’s intriguing Fuaim is Solas joined a winsome crowd on stools and scatter cushions. Hypnotic mastery from singer/songwriter Gareth Dickson set a wonderstruck tone, disseminating chatter with breathy vocals. Then followed Lau accordionist Martin Green, harpist Una Monaghan and composer Tim Matthew behind a gossamer sheet screen. Synergising their soundtrack to the click and whirr of dual projectors, resuscitated 16mm film wove a nuanced and emotive journey on screen. Shorts included Forth Rail Bridge construction, pastoral tribes and lithe gymnasts, and a Technicolor film of sealife. Sonic samples – whistling, an ocean gush – echoed visual themes, while harp strings were woeful, and powerful accordion bellows disquieting. Climaxing with a surreal, bright kaleidoscope, the mesmerising music built to a frenetic crescendo.
Absorbing, thought provoking and beautiful, Fuaim is Solas proved well deserved of its extended applause. (Jo Bell)
The idea that Casual Sex are successors to Franz Ferdinand’s mantle as post-punk overlords of Glasgow has already been floated. But this lot are in a parallel universe of their own. To watch them is to be aware that something special’s undoubtedly on the cards. They’re too good and too idiosyncratic to drop into the toilet that is modern crossover indie-pop. Besides, any band which has to offer disclaimers before songs (‘National Unity’ is ‘not a right-wing song’; ‘What’s Your Daughter For?’ is ‘sexistly titled, but it’s not about that’) probably won’t make easy inroads to the kingdom of Cowell. From Sam Smith’s introductory scream, ‘who wants to be sexy? I wanna be sexy!’, they are bloody brilliant. ‘National Unity’ itself is a quivering mass of punk-style sloganeering over a Magazine bassline, while ‘North’ hurtles through an urgent early Factory Records synth. ‘We’re All Here Mainly for the Sex’ sounds like Gang of Four on the dancefloor of Paradise Garage while ‘The Bastard Beat’ is a bitter rail against the corrupt and the seedy. Even amidst so many fantastic new Glasgow bands, they stand out by a mile. (David Pollock)
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