Meet Jenny McLaren from synth-pop outfit Spray

Spray are pop maestros. If you've not heard them yet, it's a sin.

Spray make music for people too sceptical to surrender to dancefloor hedonism but too smitten by electronic pop's fluorescent history to reject it entirely. 

Their textured instrumentation recalls Chris Lowe at his best while lyrically they nudge us into an ecstasy of demystification redolent of the KLF. Fans of a tradition of sardonic indie-pop might find nourishment here, too.

Featuring Jenny McLaren who delivers lusciously uplifting vocals, and pop producer / keyboard boffin Ricardo Autobahn, Spray are defined by almighty melodies and lyrics that excoriate the daftness and bigotry of mainstream discourse.

Mavericks without a mainstream, their songs glitter with the promise of the lost futures encoded in 80s synth-pop. 

Have a listen to our selection of Spray songs that follows. 

But first, a chat with Spray's singer and joint lyricist Jenny McLaren.

How are you keeping during lockdown?
Very well, thank you. I was furloughed from my day job and used the opportunity to try and do all those things you’ve never got the time for usually, sorting out cupboards and watching box sets.

Oh, and writing new music. Spray also filmed a few "live in the lockdown" videos which were fun to make and people seemed to enjoy.

What entertainment can you recommend to us for lockdown viewing, listening, reading?
I watched all seven seasons of Parks and Recreation and would highly recommend, though you can quite easily not bother watching the first season. It gets so much better from season two. I’ve been reading quite a few graphic novels over lockdown, and would recommend The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage by Sydney Padua. It is beautifully illustrated, has a wonderful sense of humour and you actually feel like you’re learning something too.

My favourite author is Christopher Brookmyre and so would urge anyone to try one of his too. I was supposed to go see Faith No More in June, and have been listening to them a lot, have a look for their most recent album Sol Invictus, it’s brilliant.

How did Spray come about?
When we were both in our early teens, John had a keyboard that he noodled around on and started recording the tunes he made up. Our mother heard some of these and thought they were good, but might benefit from some vocals and suggested to him that I had a nice voice. We plugged headphones in instead of a microphone in those early days.

John mentioned on Twitter that Spray have had a couple of approaches from major labels – could you tell us more about those, please?
While we were in the Cuban Boys, EMI were keen to release Living In Neon, but we left EMI to go to BMG and subsequently licensed the album to the legendary US electronic label Ninthwave instead.

Why did you abandon the album title Thrown Out of Film School? (We liked it a lot.)
We liked it too, but it was a line from a song that ended up not making the final cut for Failure Is Inevitable, so it didn’t feel as appropriate.

How do you decide your live set?
To start with it was just the songs that we thought most people would know, and as we’ve played more, we’ve tweaked that set list, replacing songs that maybe didn’t work as well with newer ones or interesting covers. Once Failure Is Inevitable came out, we chose a few we thought would work well live to include and they have quickly become favourites with the crowd.

We thoroughly enjoyed the Wimbledon gig, a slightly unusual venue, which suited us down to the ground. And the lighting was fabulous, so we got some great photos from it too - which we use at any given opportunity.

Which Spray song feels most personal to you?
Ooh, that’s a difficult one. I think from the more recent tracks I would have to say Get A Load Of This Guy, but there are many to choose from.

                                      

We're interested in your other musical projects, besides Spray and The Cuban Boys, and guest vocals on Helen Love. Do you have a discography of your one-off and other projects you've contributed to?
I don’t think there’s an official discography, but off the top of my head, I do a lot of vocals for Daz Sampson: The Woah Song and Teenage Life, to name but two. And I’ve contributed to The Barndance Boys and Ricki & Daz projects. You can hear me on Flying High by Filo Bedo and The One I Love by Relapse and I sang the theme tune to The Bloody Mary Show, A Being Being Loved.

I’m sure there are loads more, maybe I should get someone to update my Wikipedia page!

Do you play guitar on Spray songs?
I’m really not that good, I should practice more, but I believe it is my handiwork on a very old track called You Eat One Lousy Foot And You’re A Cannibal.

Would you ever want to make a rock album with Spray or anyone else?
I would love to do some rock, but I think my voice is better suited to pop. I think it’d have to be a different project than Spray, but never say never.

Would you describe yourself as a nostalgic person?
Even though I am in a band that is heavily influenced by the eighties, I would have to say no. I love old music and still listen to a lot of it, but I also really enjoy new music and the way we innovate and move forward with new techniques. I would never wish to be back in a particular time, I prefer to look forwards and enjoy what is to come.

What was your relationship with John when you were growing up?
Typical siblings I think, we didn’t really get on until we started making music together in our teens. And that turned out pretty well.

What's your favourite fashion item from the 80s?
The 80s were not kind to fashion, but if pushed I would maybe go for a batwing top.

Would you and John ever like to make Spray's equivalent of It Couldn't Happen Here?
Yes! We would love to do something like that. Back in the Cuban Boys days we made a short film called From Ennui to Blasphemy which I believe you can find on YouTube.

What's your experience of living in Liverpool?
Fabulous, it’s a fantastic city, lovely welcoming people and a great waterfront. I enjoy living by the water and there are some great restaurants and bars. I cannot wait for them to start re-opening.

What's your experience of going to clubs?
I‘m not a big clubber, I prefer drinks and food with friends for an evening out. Though I do love to dance.

Are you creative in non-musical ways?
I love Lego and have quite a few sets on display, though is it really creative if you're following instructions? I am a big fan of Sim and City building computer games, The Sims in particular and have a great time building and decorating their homes. Not sure if you’d class this as creative, but I do also really enjoy cooking, I make a lovely curry and do like to experiment with food.

What are you most looking forward to after lockdown? Do you have touring plans?
As previously mentioned, definitely a meal out with friends will be first on my list. But we will absolutely be getting back to gigging when we can. We already had a few plans for the end of the year prior to lockdown, but will just have to wait and see how that pans out.

Whose idea was it to include the word 'milquetoast' in You'll Never Be Forgiven?
That would probably be Ric, if there’s ever a word you need to look up or Google how to pronounce, that’ll be him.

You sing 'I wonder where the wonder goes', but please tell us some things that you think are wonderful.
Chocolate, wine and good friends. There’s definitely a theme here.

For a great interview we did with Ricardo Autobahn of Spray, head over to GodisintheTV zine.

As an introduction to Spray, we recommend this megamix sampler:

For lyrical prowess, try I Always Wanted to Say "I Always Wanted to Say That."

And here's one from the new EP, an anthem for our times, You'll Never Be Forgiven.

And Also The Trees @ Southbank Centre, London, Saturday 23rd June 2018

Much like post-punk legends, The Chameleons, I never considered I'd get the chance to see And Also The Trees perform live. I had heard the band mentioned alongside The Cure, and that Robert was friendly with and a fan of And Also The Trees, that the two had toured together - and Lol Tolhurst had produced the band at times. Moreover, that the musical similarities were/are striking. Only in recent years did I hear about the band being active, and - though I missed the chance to see them at the Garage in London a couple of years ago - I started picking up their music at record fairs and online, and became quite fascinated.

That Robert Smith selected the band for his personally curated roster at his Meltdown festival this summer was a brilliant piece of news. An intimate venue, too.

So it was that I sat a couple of rows away from the stage, bathed in amazing purples and glowering reds, entranced by winding, textured, emotively woven musical soundscapes.

Singer Simon Huw Jones cut a stark figure in his frock coat, waistcoat and romantics' pale white shirt. Suddenly, a creak like the coffin lid of a vampiric creature in some gothic tale. 'I like that,' he announced. It was people creeping out to the bar, the heavy doors cranking. The noise came again. 'But not too much.' We laughed aloud.

But the mood was mostly beautifully sombre, dreamy, and filled with silent awe.

Saxophones, clarinets glazed the songs that were generally heavy in bass and drums. 12-string guitar pickings sounded flamenco-like at times yet still gloomily beautiful. Keyboard strings also iced the set.

It felt like the best band you could see, the closest you could get, to seeing The Cure. My Bloody Valentine might have been pedalling away and creating sensory noise in another building nearby, and Suzanne Vega sounded golden caramel wonderful next door in snatches as I passed by, but And Also The Trees created amazing atmospheres, tension, emotional release, poetic phrasings, all delivered with vocal intent, and it was incredible.

Nice one, Bob, for booking them! (I bet he enjoyed a few glasses of lemonade with the band afterwards).

Support band A Dead Forest Index were not only aptly chosen by name but pleasingly evocative and musically innovative, on a similar wavelength, too. Sadly no guest spot from Bob Smith, but maybe that is happening at today's big gig he's doing.

Belly, live @ Shepherds Bush Empire, Thursday 21st June, 2018

I have been a fan of Belly since I first heard the band on The Evening Session on Radio One in 1995. King remains a classic indie-rock album with all their best tunes on. Tanya Donelly possesses one of my all-time favourite singing voices - low, rich, high, sweet, strong, vulnerable, warm, ecstatic, fearsome.

Missed the first part of the show - it was a stupidly early start, I hate to say, with no support band, which had not been clear on the tickets/when booked. A meeting up went slowly and we had to leg it in one song from the interval before part two.

I love venues like The Forum and Shepherds Bush Empire - old cinema theatres, grand, art deco (at least in the Forum's case). We need to treasure and keep using these venues, and not lose them. The plush cinema seats are great, and even from the back - wherever you're sat - you have a grand view.

I was not so miffed at missing out as I had seen the band in their first reformation show in two decades, this time last summer, after all. They blew me away then, as they did tonight.

I adore the new album. Tanya's honeyed voice, the melodies, the themes of the songs. There is no doubt that Belly's return is fantastic.

Bassist Gail was on fine, energetic form, as usual, and Tanya was equally mobile and keyed up as she wielded her guitar. Gepetto was a storming starter as we sat down with our drinks.

Many of the star tracks from King were rocked out again and again across the night. I kept hearing a tease of the opening notes and key to Superconnected but that came later. It is one of my favourites. I sang my heart out about angel wings and throwing clothes around.

Feed The Tree was another fond highlight, and I was caught up in its chorus as ever, enjoying Tanya's demand that some feller take his hat off to her when he's speaking to her.

The light shows were brilliant - confetti-like, snow-like at times, glittering on the stage floor. Later on, rainbows (I know from Tanya's Twitter she is a staunch LGBTQ ally).

I had wondered if there would be antidotes to the American President's current policies towards innocent children in need of help. As I type, there has been condemnation by the UN that Trump's policies amount to 'toture' - the camps set up which keep young, vulnerable kids - some of whom are disabled and not getting their needs met - confined from their parents while their parents are treated like criminals, simply for seeking a safer, better life. And, sure enough, both Gail and Tanya spoke out against Trump - and looked to the day when the US and the rest of the world are free of him, punching the air in fighting spirit.

New songs Human Child and Shiny One sounded brilliant and, live, they had sing-a-long attraction.

Full Moon, Empty Heart was the great surprise of the night. Those killer vocals and melodies, that incredible voice of Tanya Donnelly's. It also struck me just how much the band rock - loud!

An amazing night, and so lucky to have the band back. A band I have loved since 1995, but never thought I'd see live, as I was just a year or two too young for gigs then, and they broke up soon after King. I have followed Tanya's solo works and adored all her songs, though. I never went to the Throwing Muses' reunion gig in recent years as I pined for Belly and I think they are a band that should be celebrated and remembered much more.

Inspired by Labour Live

Real Love by Clean Bandit is my summer anthem now. I may be a few years too late, but I just saw them performing live in a park in Tottenham at a gig in support of Labour, and they were a total revelation.

The song lent such an anthemic, apt feel to the event - the hope and good of the Labour Party under Jeremy Corbyn! The band's performance added to the feelings of hope and optimism, and also gave a party atmosphere to the evening.

I had just had the most ridiculously stressful and shitty day at work, with all kinds of drama and horrible incidents. Which had made me late for the gig I was so looking forward to. I needed this night of peaceful messages, hope, solidarity, and love of Labour.

I needed to walk right in the festival gates just as Jeremy Corbyn was delivering his speech, and see his kind face, hear his support and feel the sense that things will change because we so desperately need them to so that so much suffering can end for so many people.

I was only catching the tail-end of the festival, had missed out on seeing Potent Whisper, Owen Jones, Kate Osamor, and many more speak and perform - but it was still such a brilliant feeling to be there, walking around, enjoying the positive mood, having a nice drink, being outdoors in the lovely summer's heat, seeing familiar faces.

We rushed out to buy an album by Clean Bandit. I wouldn't normally go for such sleekly produced, soulful dance, but they are really amazing and their first album feels like a best of, with catchy tunes galore! I love the mix of guest vocalists, and also the blending of classical instruments - violin, electric violin or viola, cello, and heavy dance beats and electro glitches.

Paul Draper @ Electric Brixton, London, 8th March, 2018

I never thought I'd hear these songs performed, hear of Mansun again. More than 20 years on, pink light glowed with appropriate celestial splendour to gesture in The Chad Who Loved Me, strings all swaying. Totally absorbed and in awe, I felt sheer gratitude. I was basking in younger years, taken aback, knew all the words.

The album I'd first heard from a library loan, the band I'd seen on the covers of the NME. Mansun represented, replicated a whole other world. Pen pal circles, adoring fanzines with ridiculous titles and frivolous expeditions, my first music festival, instant friendships in Freshers' Week, and all the blissing out to their music, words, revelling in characters and ridiculousness...

Mansun were one of the first bands I saw at a gig venue. They weren't like other bands, they toured relentlessly and favoured small places where fans greeted them with fervour. They came to my humble hometown Milton Keynes! Played in the local leisure centre. Summer holidays 1998 - that early July afternoon, I decided to dye my hair cobalt blue, wear it in two plaits. Second-hand army shirt, cord flares, purple Doctor Marten boots, maybe a baggy t-shirt, and off I strode with glee. I'd meet a pen pal or two there, get there a few hours early to enjoy the clamour for the band. A 45 minute walk later, and I was joining the circle of female fans who travelled up and down the country to see Mansun. Excitable stories about encounters with band members, here a fanzine tale about tinned soup, flyers for our latest fanzines exchanged, postal addresses noted and promises of letters so we could keep in touch (no internet in our family household till 1999). I remember days like that crystal clear and fond.

Mansun were this perfect embodiment of the kind of dreamy, zany, brilliant parallel world you could escape into as an aside to your sixth form studies.

Back to the beautiful gig. It was simply special hearing Paul Draper's silken voice again. And some of the solo songs swirl about like the most elegantly melodic and shimmering of Mansun classics. We heard a hotch potch of chosen songs from Paul's recent career, rather than a straight-up rendition of his entire debut solo album. The collection of songs we'd waited years for, kept hearing about, then crept up and arrived of a sudden..

Opening with Don't Poke the Bear may have had an ulterior message due to some recent upset, but let's just think on the music and that night. It was a gem to hear Paul announce that he was about to play "a string of B-sides." A long lost, forgotten art. Mansun ruled supreme with B-sides, and it was the best of their art. Memories of Everyone Must Win blisteringly closing live sets chiming in my ears in distant memory... I took a lot of quiet moments to remember fond times, people I'd been afforded to meet purely because of the band.

More blazingly bright lights, seering sapphire and purples - the trademark Attack of the Grey Lantern purple... strings and bliss.

I'd been giving the old album a spin in the kitchen in the last week and I was gearing up for Taxloss. Got to dance about for that one - climax of electronic wigging out. Remembering those: "We're a Taxloss" Mansun fanclub t-shirts - never did buy one but probably still have the postal order form in a box of momentoes somewhere!

All night, just kept thinking how special it felt to be hearing Pauls' voice and these songs again, as well as the new songs. It's hard not to think track by track and write on and on but every song was truly momentous. Had never heard You, Who Do You Hate? played live, it really kicked in.

More nostalgia and dancing beyond my years for Wide Open Space - total bliss. I'll use that word again and again.I was fourth or fifth row down the front, like the old days, good view and bit of room to manoeuvre, there was no way I wasn't moshing for old time's sake to Stripper Vicar with its killer chorus and lyrics. Less thought about the pulled muscles in my sides from doing so, as I type this now, the better. I was probably alone in pogoing and I still don't care. All this too-cool attitude, posing still... I was there to feel the years fall away and enjoy myself and it was the best feeling to just let go and not care like when I was in my teens and 20s. I wore heart on sleeve with my 1998-circa Mansun fan gear. I had drawn the line at wearing the old army shirt and added safety pins on the arm though... Mansun's image changes were legendary, it must be recalled and celebrated and I loved indulging in all that in my teens.

Disgusting was intriguing to hear live, and then it was into another mosh-a-thon with She Makes My Nose Bleed. Only thing missing was Steve Lamacq back-announcing it on the radio!

Naked Twister was swirly and squally as of yore. Then a massive sing-a-long to Egg Shaped Fred, with Paul joking about the lack of lyrics at the end... na-na-na-Na-na-Na-na-na.... 

Dark Mavis was epic and it was one of several moments on the night where the humour of Mansun shone through so much - and I realised how lost it must have been outside of the dedicated fanbase. The descriptions, the wryness, but in such straight-up delivery. The subtlety. I found a lot of hilarity in the lyrics of the album, as if understanding them all anew.

"You can kiss his vase until the end of the month" sung over and over was a high point.

I exited the fray, but I was keeping an ear out just in case. I mean, a band so famed for quirks and B-sides and so much oddity... The familiar piano riff kicked in and a great big sing-a-long ensued, music hall style... "The lyrics aren't supposed to mean that much, they're just a vehicle for a lovely voice..." All the arms aloft and silly delight, it was fantastic and the best end to the night. I finally got myself a long-sought-after roses t-shirt with Mansun logo, so beautiful.

Sir Draper said he'd see us all "next year" for a rendition of the album Six... I'm counting on it!

Brix and The Extricated @ Oslo, London, 3rd November, 2017

My 5th Brix gig! She's a legend of The Fall. Backed with other revered former members such as Steve and Paul Hanley, the band just gets mightier and mightier.

I had a different song from Brix and the Extricated's first album in my head each day in the week leading up to this, and the week after. It's an outstanding collection of new songs, livid with grinding bass and alive with the powerfully confident vocals and surefire lyrics of Brix.

Old Fall songs are in the mix live - but just three make the album: LA, Feeling Numb and Hotel Bloedel. All of which, Brix co-wrote or wrote. Hotel Bloedel was actually the first song Brix wrote - before she even met Mark E Smith. It was the song he first heard that inspired him to call her a "Genius" and invite her to join the band - when she played him a tape of it in his car one night, after they met in a bar, post-Fall-gig. So any detractors who think The Fall is all about Mark E Smith and his ego can do a runner. Brix is a talented component of The Fall past, and a remarkable force right now, on stage and performing once again.

She'll draw you in with her hectic vocal delivery, all full of intent and infused with a smashing passion and defiance.

Something to Lose has a Fall clatter intro and bursts into a percussive, driving grind, Brix carefree and singing to us directly. Steve Hanley's bass playing is obviously an almighty part of the force of the band too.

Damned for Eternity and Pneumatic Violet are catchy as hell. And Brix's persona as frontwoman doesn't need to convince anyone. She asserts her vocals half-rap style, strutting around the stage, here a punch to the air for emphasis, here a kick to emphasise her words.

I love her new t-shirt that suggests a double-meaning: LIVE.

Perhaps the best moment comes as Siobhan Fahey - one of her old pals in pop - joins the band on stage to duet with Brix. If a member of Bananarama singing Totally Wired kitted out in glitter is any Fall fan's idea of crossing a line - bring it on. Brix and Siobhan are having a ball, reeling off the lines normally ranted out by Mark E Smith. It feels like necessary defiance, rejection of the bullshit notion of only men being allowed to own guitar music and that it must be done SERIOUSLY!

But that's a fun gig climax, when everyone's clearly had a few. It's not to be forgotten that Brix is a songwriter to be taken seriously and in her own right. I celebrate every gig, every time she sings out and crushes all the times women were never afforded equal respect and the chance to take centre stage with guitars. Brix is brilliant, and bring on her rightful recognition in rock stardom.

Penny Pepper, author reading @ The Dublin Castle, Camden, 1st November, 2017

Penny Pepper's memoir First in The World Somewhere is a must-read book, written in impassioned fashion about all the awakenings lent to her from punk, London, sex. All notions of living a life defined or confined by a disability were vehemently rejected. She lived independently with her partner in crime, Tamsin, performed gigs, wrote erotica, went about everything on her own terms. As she pointed out, if punk was about breaking down barriers, it had to be inclusive of disabled people.

On this Rock n Roll Book Club evening at punks' favourite the Dublin Castle, she delighted us with anecdotes, confessions, poetry. Sat alongside a beloved, autographed image of Morrissey which is framed and sat atop a lacy tablecloth (as he'd wish), she tells us about their letter exchanges, and how she overcame her shyness by becoming the singer and writer Kata Kolbert.

We get the privilege of hearing some of her songs recorded in the early 90s, along with Smiths favourites and punk and new wave classics. Penny describes her own songs as "punky, folky pop."

Penny rips into a poem called Fucking Special, where she slams the idea of having "special" schools, and the rest of it, as a disabled person. It's an incredible, powerful moment.

She reads choice pickings from her autobiography, and chats with fellow author and Smiths devotee Julie Hamill about how letter writing transported her away from the misery of her home life as a teen. She admitted to building up a "tense obsession" with Morrissey, recognising herself in his lyrics: "If the people stare, then the people stare..." She was used to being stared at.

She said how everything he said made her feel understood, singing about being an outsider, and toeing the line against Thatcher in grim 80s Britain. He told her she wrote beautifully, sent her rare vinyl - perhaps aptly, it was Barbarism Begins at Home. And Moz even wrote her a happy birthday greeting in green crayon once! He once invited her to a Royal Albert Hall gig by the Smiths, offering her "every kindness and assistance" - which was all great, sitting in the special box seats, until she could not get out at the end...

Julie has some personal messages for Penny - including one from the once editor of Jamming! magazine. She'd written to him in the 80s, contesting that if the publication was really about "breaking down barriers," as its strapline claimed, that ought to include disabled people getting access to gigs. Tony Fletcher's message to Penny tonight read: "Jamming provided you with a soapbox - but you're the one who stood on it."

Her memoirs were based on her personal diaries of the time - influenced by Anais Nin! Great to hear that Penny's diaries have now been placed in the National Archives.

She writes in her book about feeling imprisoned, stuck at home with her parents, due to having still's disease from birth, which affects her joints and means she uses a wheelchair. In those days, she says, if you were disabled, you either lived with your parents or in a care home. She demanded independent living and got it, describing how she and her friend Tamsin - also disabled - had "fire in our bellies" and wanted to live just like others in their 20s, drinking vodka, partying, having boys over, cooking for themselves.

And, when it came to writing, she says it took her a long time to realise that she had as much right as anyone else to do so - and it's the same with her having a sexual identity. She hates media perceptions, how biased and damaging they are.

"How I am, how I was - I was loved. It took me a long time to get there," she says.

Hear snippets of Penny reading on Unbound publisher's website.

Desperate Journalist @ The Garage, London, 10 November, 2017

A second Desperate Journalist gig in London within a few weeks of the last. I grabbed the chance! Just a 30-minute set, which left me hoping for an encore, but it was perfectly delivered - in the usual crisp, shiny indie style,.

Why Are You So Boring? continues to sound like an anthem. Lacking in Your Love, epic as ever with its crepuscular, swirling guitar notes winding around dreamily, all hazily reminiscent of This Twilight Garden by The Cure.

Resolution sounds better with every live performance, or maybe it's just grown on me as another indie pop hit single sounding success. Christina burst in with further pop aplomb.

Great to be down the front, singing along and enjoying the splendour of it all.

From my spot, I didn't get the whole band in the photos, but I thought I'd include them anyway for the lights and the pop stariness of the three quarters of the band I did capture under pink and green dazzle.

All the chorus pedal guitar riffs are still ringing out in my ears and I'm full of adoration for this band.

Slotface @ The Cellar Bar, Oxford, 23rd November 2017

Norwegian indie-rock act Slotface are part roaring Nirvana-style grunge guitars, part careful string-picking, melodic indie pop - and it works a treat.

Haley's vocals are rasping, growling at times, but give way to gentler, more thoughtful moments. Scandinavian indie-pop has been known to be incredibly marvellous over recent decades, but it's mainly been led by Sweden, what with the gigantic splendour of Labrador Records leading the charge with the Radio Dept., The Shout Out Louds, Sambassadeur, and more. The rockier, heavier end of things has probably been best represented by the part-Danish Raveonettes, but I'm open to hearing about more bands I've missed along the way.

It's welcoming, refreshing to hear some new, young upstarts from Norway, I'd say. Plenty of highs in tonight's basement bar gig. The Cellar Bar is a trove of a venue and has just recovered from threats to its future, so tonight feels like a celebration and we're celebrating in other ways with a special occasion around this date being the reason for our trip to Oxford city, and this very gig. Note that, please, Oxford City Council - small music venues bring in tourism too !

One highlight had to be seeing all the young fans at the end of the night, crowding round singer Haley at the merch stall, telling her how brilliant the band's performance was. Towards the end of something like a 50-date tour, those must've been warm and wonderful words. I also liked being reminded of the years I spent approaching bands like that, nervous, young, in thrall and praise. Long may that all live!

Desperate Journalist @ The Dome, London, 19th October, 2017

A Fierce Panda Records bop with one of Britain's best indie bands of the day.

I hadn't been back to the Dome in Tufnell Park since my indie-rock student dancing days of the late 90s when they had Loony Tunes night! It's a great, medium-sized venue with a friendly air, and suited Desperate Journalist well.

Me and a friend burst into the venue just as Young Romance were tearing into their instantly anthemic Wasting Time. I was reeled in right away by the pounding Jesus and Mary Chain stand-up drumming, melodic synths and guitars swirling to perfection. 

The comparison of singer Claire's vocals to Kate Bush is easy and true, the high pitch pop and light delivery. 

One of the best moments comes through with the persistent refrain: 'I don't want a love like this anymore / No, I don't want a love like this anymore!' followed by 'Get out, get out / Be on your way.' More in the melody and emotion than anything, so immediately anthemic, Danceable bliss!

They are, quite simply, fabulous, and I have lacked the nous to find them up to now. Album was instantly bought, and I greatly anticipate the second one that's currently being recorded, along with a 2018 spent gadding about watching them lots!

Desperate Journalist have been at the uppermost end of my list of favourite, emerging, young indie bands since I caught them at a nascent gig supporting Six By Seven in 2013. Many a gig, CD, badge, and t-shirt from the band has been snapped up eagerly by me since. I went onto to see the band again within a couple of weeks of this gig, as I clamour at any opportunity.

Since I've not written about the band on here just yet, I need to point out the shiny layers of Cure and Smiths influences - hypnotic guitars all atmospheric and emotive, aching, impassioned vocal deliveries and the most thoughtful and lyrical song words I've heard from a band in quite some time.

The melodies are entrancing, Cure-perfect with vocals delivered in the most Morrissey-idolising way - sometimes drawn out, always with meaning, emotional emphasis, intent - but still Jo Bevan's own style with it all. There's also the added kick of Manic Street Preachers' rock bluster, epicness of Suide, and other British rock influences both musically, lyrically, and in the band's star-like garb and cosmetics. Now that I'm aware that Jo is in the premium Duran Duran tribute band, Joanne Joanne, I can also pick up on 80s synth-op influences more.

On stage, Jo and her band are heroic. They ought to become massive any day now. They've been working away, and their second album advances much of the qualities of their first, in catchiness,  delivery, production, everything. The strength of the musicianship has reached an ideal.

I love the emphatic singing, the way Jo adorns the mic to her, wire winding and close, so the music becomes a meaningful appendage. She sings with power and strength. She sings with Moz-like tremulousness. 

The newer songs feel more tender at times, and many are more forthright in their outright melody, with Why Are You So Boring an all-out pop hit, if you ask me.

All a bit glorious and special - onwards to further brightness they stride.

Madame So @ The Islington, 13 June 2017

From the incredible Madame So - Solange, singing solo and acoustic at The Islington last night.

Any fears Solange expressed about the acoustic format were exploded, as her voice is as almighty powerful without her electric band backing her. It's in the way she plays with wordless sounds as well as her detailed, emotive, intelligent lyrics. There's conviction and a sense of release, not just simple anger.

Solange wants us to take notice, her strong and personal delivery commands it constantly, as her songs offer something that's missing from music - a meaningfulness that's so often lacking. Backed with a plugged-in rhythm section her songs rock the place but it's no less so when you focus on how and what she delivers vocally.

When she breaks into "anything you want, I got it!" you can feel her self-belief in her music, and the cover version tagged along to one of her own songs sits perfectly - she's shouting it now, demanding we absorb not only her attention but also her sheer confidence and passion.

This is songwriting that will go far, far beyond tonight's pub backroom. Solange's presence and performance scream out superstar in all the best ways.

Goodbye Allo Darlin, 10 December, 2016

Photos taken from the middle gig of Allo Darlin's three farewell gigs, before the band is over:

There was a great sense of emotion from the offset - as I entered the bar, second song in, late from being lost in the rain, the band's set was being piped through speakers in the former ex-servicemen's members club bar, and I heard Elizabeth Morris's voice crack.

The set was a really nice mixture from Allo Darlin's history. It was lovely to see the band having a lot of fun on stage, smiling and laughing, joking with each other. At one point, Elizabeth ensured that guitarist Bill's Stephin Merritt-style solo singing was supported with a huge, warm round of applause and cheers. The band recounted memories from their tour bus travels, and thanked their parents for their journeys from the Antipodes to be part of the festivities.

The Moth Club is a fantastic venue, with its gold, shimmering stage backdrop, glittering ceiling, and cosy old bar. The place was packed to burst, and I was stuck by the door, the person everyone had to squeeze past. I grinned and bore it, just one of those things and most folk were polite about it. Gradually, I found myself moving further in bit by bit as more and more people traversed to bar or conveniences. A third of the way into the gig, I found a space to settle and relax in, able to dance and sing a bit and feel immersed in so many of fond, old songs I've known and loved for a few years.

It was 2012 when I first saw the band live - Easter weekend sunshine casting light on Elizabeth in giant sunglasses, singing in front of Rough Trade record shop near the Portobello market, celebrating Record Store Day. I felt like I'd found the meaningful, melodic and personable indie band that had been absent in my life since Tilly and The Wall stopped touring the UK about five years before. My friend bought the album Europe on the spot, after the soaring set.

Allo Darlin became a band I treasured, and whom I could rely on to tour regularly. I saw them throughout the years, most memorably in the back room of Herne Hill's Half Moon pub, which felt like indie gigs of the 90s, captured that spirit. I created the print version of this blog, sold it in fanzine format on the night of the gig. I was inspired to create the fanzine, amidst the rush of the band's songs carrying me away around the year 2012.

Another memorable Allo Darlin gig was at the student bar at Kings College, when it felt like the band were on the brink of fantastic, big things. I spotted a longtime NME journalist at the gig and was sure the band ought to make a front cover - but the corporately curmudgeonly lot only gave the band an enthused live review. The band went on to play bigger things, including at The Scala.

Last night at the Moth Club, I was having a really nice time, feeling it was a cheerful farewell to a beloved band.

But as I raised both arms to photograph the band (as above) in high spirits, wanting to capture the fun, a complete stranger suddenly came from behind me, placed both their hands firmly on both my hips, lewdly whispering 'ooh, hello, how are you?' in my ear, as they brushed too much and too long past me to get out the door. It was done in such a casual, overly "friendly" manner that anyone who'd seen it probably assumed it was someone I knew well/my boyfriend. And that's what left me shocked, feeling sickened, and stuck to the spot. No stranger has the right to get that close. This is my body. I turned around to show my dismay and fear as the man went past. I turned around again, to see if anyone had witnessed what had happened, to see if they shared my dismay, would ask if I was all right. No one acted whatsoever. I was alone. That shocked me further, upset me more.

I thought about trying to continue enjoying the gig, not let things be ruined. But it was impossible. I spent a few confused, sad minutes with the gig just washing over me, unable to identify any songs anymore. Despite me hating it happening, the tears started pouring, angrily. I had to leave.

It only occurred to me then, in the horrible confusion of things, to seek help from staff. I had seen friendly security about but they had been no where in sight at that point. I went to the bar and spoke to staff. They immediately radio-ed to security who turned up in seconds. They were professional and fast acting, listening to me, acting on the incident. But I had no chance of finding the culprit by this point. Security were friendly but firm about the incident, saying to contact them if I saw the culprit or if anything were to happen of the sort again.

I went back into the gig, tried to enjoy the end. By now things were joyous, the band linking arms, bowing, smiling: you could read each, individual tee-shirt spelling out: ALLO DARLIN LOVE YOU. There was a big singalong with ukulele.

But I just had to rush out of the building and get away, get home. Tears and upset. The incident had ruined the gig for me. I didn't even get to buy the band's farewell single as intended.

But I wanted to post my photos, and write the good things I enjoyed from the night. It's just a sad fact that some people have no idea that they have no right to cross the boundaries of complete strangers, to make people feel like an object, humiliated and vulnerable. That's not what gigs are about. And it certainly has nothing at all to do with the brilliant band Allo Darlin who spent many years making shining bright indie pop that lit up lots of lives.

ADDENDUM: Can anyone tell me if Elizabeth Morris will continue singing? She was a fantastic part of Tender Trap as well as Allo Darlin, and has one of my favourite ever female singing voices. I would miss her voice heaps.

Sincerely, L. Cohen

Leonard Cohen was the master of raw emotion, of inspiring raw emotion. The intimacy of those early songs, and how I felt when I first heard them in callow years, remain with me. The melodies, the cadences, the rhythms so haunting and so richly unique. His music has been a constant to me - and it feels so personal, subtly powerful. He conveyed with power and with poetry: the quiet, the gentle, the majestic, the sorrowful, the lamenting, the lugubriously humorous.

MC Asher Senator @ Merton Arts Space, Wimbledon Library, 20 October, 2016

Libraries do incredible things. Who would expect to be treated to a live reggae MC, after hours, in the reference library? And all for free.

Asher Senator is a man who influenced generations of musicians in reggae, hip-hop, R'n'B. I know he's a big deal, because when I met up with my brother - a DJ and hip-hop and dub fan who's been through the 80s and 90s - his smile said it all when I handed him a signed book! -

Asher's vibrant energy, wit, and warm personality brought the house down. A great sound system backed him as he performed old favourites.

Live performances were interspersed with fantastic old tales from his years working with Smiley Culture. Whilst Smiley Culture is sadly no longer with us, the friendship was relived via all the anecdotes of friendship in youth, starting up in music, and jetsetting. As Asher pointed out, if you were a new MC in 2016, you'd just turn up to the club with your USB stick with your backing track, plug in and go. Back then, Asher and Smiley had to build their own sound systems from scratch, lug their gear around in dodgy old bangers, and got into scrapes.

My favourite story was hearing about the duo's acquaintance with a man who owned a field of the green stuff. Cue a song featuring the lyric: 'Me no wake for 24 hour' !

These days, Asher runs a charity for kids getting into multimedia arts, and it sounds like he's doing a noble job, inspiring future generations, anew.

Asher is a joyous bloke, and it all came through with the songs, readings, and stories. Listen to the songs, buy the book!

Brix And The Extricated, Live at The Lexington, London, 4 November, 2016

My fourth time seeing Brix And The Extricated play live. [Click here for an older live review]

Tonight at The Lexington, Brix's entrance was dramatic, she sparkled from head to foot in shining headdress, glittering eye make up, twinkling gold guitar strap, and (hopefully faux !) fur coat. I have to admit to feeling emotional, even tearful - I think it was feeling overwhelmed and glad to be bestowed a female heroine, centre stage, at last. Decades of gig-going, but back in my teens and the most part of my 20s, what I would have given to have a rock goddess of a frontwoman/role model...! Chrissie Hynde has had a similarly powerful effect, in my 30s, and [I wrote about that here]

The songs and Brix's singing are so powerful. The strength of her voice, so commanding. There were only two moments where Brix lent a slower, quieter quality to her voice (as heard in The Adult Net). Primarily, Brix is unafraid to be loud and insistent, and to sing in a talking punk or rap style, and deliver everything with intent, dead serious. At one point, in a new song, she was pointing, and reaching out to the audience from lowdown, in-your-face, in a 70s punk style: confrontational, or just wanting to demand a direct communication with the audience, on our level.

With Steve Hanley's expert bass, we've obviously got another legend of The Fall. The full band sound is huge and rhythmically spectacular. Hearing songs like 2 X 4 - that rockabilly influence was one of the key things to draw me to The Fall. I'd play along, in my bedroom, with newly bought electric guitar, frantically, inspired. Now I'm dancing along, propelled in awe.

Big New Prinz is the pinnacle of the night, once again. But this time it is epic. We're led in with a slow, swirling intro, wondering what's coming next - Brix whispers the words, and we're taken aback when the song suddenly explodes into action. Winding and grinding on, hypnotic trance effect successful, the song then plays out to its end with every band member leaving one by one. First, it's Brix, and I have to smile that it's her walking out of a song a bit early and not Mark in his trademark nonchalant style. Then the instrumental chords and rhythms dwell magically, before guitar is gone... leaving only that monumental bass with drums. I think we could listen to that legendary sound all night, but soon it slows to an end, and we're left transfixed.

Watching Brix perform, again and again, as I have done, I come away feeling blessed by her confidence, self-assurance. She may be singing songs she wrote in her time in The Fall where Mark E Smith tyrannically ran the show, but now she's the frontperson, she's centre-stage. She's the star.

The Future is Female

My last spate of gigs was dominated by bands with women leading or involved: Brix and The Extricated, Flatmates, Colour Me Wednesday, Fear of Men, Poetic Pilgrimage, Belly, Honeyblood, Chorus Girl, Dream Nails. And my future live plans all look predominantly female too: Brix and The Extricated, Popguns, Honeyblood, Allo Darlin, and (with luck) The Pretenders... It's damned exciting times for music. Much of this is serendipity. A new wave of female-centric bands has arisen, and I'm grateful. It's not that I'd ever consciously shun male music (impossible), as that would make no sense - it's just that it seems like there is a new mood, new opportunities, new vision.

Things feel creative for women. Music is so disparate now, music-press-invented movements are not really an option anymore. Homegrown/DIY is where it's at - which is necessary. There feels more space, more voice for women. The internet has offered more of a platform for women's issues to be highlighted and taken seriously (Everyday Sexism, Safe Gigs For Women, both excellent, vital campaigns). Fanzines/zines are being picked up by a new generation, giving new voice and spreading the word about important issues like never before. The closure of so many small venues, the erosion of corporate music media voices has left room for lots of incredible, community-instigated projects to crop up: DIY Space For London, and gigs in similarly autonomously spirited/run places; benefit gigs are back (the Conservative government are crushing funding for women's refuges, for example and projects like Loud Women gigs are raising funds).

All of this is for celebration.

'Nobody's telling me I can't
Nobody's telling me I shan't
No one to say "you're doing it wrong"
I'm at my best
I'm Where I Belong''

The Pretenders:

Chorusgirl, live @ The Finsbury, London, 12 October, 2016

One of the best new indie-pop bands to come from Fortuna Pop, and of recent times. I am hooked on the bright and melodic, chorus-pedal-laden brilliance of Chorusgirl, and glad of their being around right now.

This was a free gig, which also introduced me to Dream Nails, who were bouncy, giddy fun - the kind of female-gang, punk-pop we took for granted in the mid 90s. I've just been reading about their feministic drive and zine-making, which makes me love them even more.

Interview with Chorusgirl over at Godisinthetv.

The Chameleons, live @ The Crauford Arms, Milton Keynes, 28 July, 2016

Spellbinding gig in a small city - just a couple of photos of Mark Burgess for now, still need to write up my thoughts!

Love of Reggae

Better known as Prince Buster, Cecil Bustamente Campbell was a pioneer of bluebeat, ska and rock steady.

With the sad news of his passing, I felt it was high time I wrote about my love of reggae (on this blog that's mainly about indie rock). It's a genre and a longstanding passion of mine that few of my friends and family are aware of, to be honest. I've been building up a small but precious collection over the years.

I know that my draw to reggae can be pinpointed back to the reggae pop hits of my teens in the early 90s - It Keeps Raining, as covered by Bitty McLean was one of the first singles I bought on tape. Baby I Love Your Way by Big Mountain was a massive smash hit song of one of the greatest summers of my teens, a song that my classmates used to sing by the swings at lunchtime. Shine by Aswad was another perfect August summer's day burst of pop. All this gloriously upbeat, warmth and all these lilting, bass-happy, love songs being around grounded me in my love of reggae.

Maybe what cemented it all, was years later, after turning to guitar music, getting into The Clash, feeling and appreciating reggae's influence and also their use of dub bass and reggae time signature in their punk songs. The Clash's cover of Pressure Drop was pivotal - and many of the songs on the band's first album too (particularly, their version of Police and Thieves - although I'm aware that this wasn't received well by Jnr Murvin and Lee Perry - and their own White Man in Hammersmith Palais. In their later catalogue, of course, the almighty Guns of Brixton, surely their pinnacle feat).

The legendary imprint, Trojan Records brought out some superb boxsets of compilation series, really accessible stuff suited to the curious beginner. There was Rock Steady, collections of Dub and so on. Those boxsets were 3 discs, and came cheap, between £6 and £12 in shops like Fopp and HMV. Island Records brought out a great compilation called Islands in the Sun, too. They've been my education - covering great breadth of artists and versions. 70s and 80s films like The Harder They Come and Babylon were also influential to me (I even had to track down one of the films on VHS from eBay as it was yet to come out on DVD).

One book I would recommend is: Young, Gifted and Black, The Story of Trojan Records, for setting the historic scene and naming the important figures and a look-back on the context for reggae's development. I've seen books like The Rough Guide series which look useful too, for learning your stuff.

I love digging around at record fairs, discovering specialist record shops - Soul Brother Records in Putney, Honest Johns in Kensal, and People's Sound on the once infamous All Saints Road in W11. I have a few albums on vinyl, but it's a costly genre as it sounds best on wax.

I thought it was long overdue that I write a music blog post about my all-time favourite reggae songs. Mostly, rock steady, as I've come to realise that along with dub, it's my favourite genre.

Pat Kelly: Somebody's Baby:

A song that can always raise me up - and I love the female power of it, and the use of patois - Queen of The World, by Lloyd & Claudette:

Of course, Pressure Drop by Toots and the Maytals:

The Harder They Come, by Jimmy Cliff:

Johnny Too Bad, by The Slickers:

Dub from Jnr Murvin:

007 (Shanty Town), by Desmond Dekker:

Rudies All Around, by Joe White:

Rock Steady itself, from Alton Ellis:

And the mighty Al Capone, by Prince Buster:

The early albums of Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, and teenage summers past

I can't imagine a band as weird (and young) and experimental and exotic sounding as Gorky's Zygotic Mynci existing now. This band caught me off guard, in the mid 1990s, aged 15, enough to rabidly scrawl the band's name on the back of my homework book: spelled GORKY'S ZYGOTIC MONKEY, of course.

From haunting, childish ballads about picnic hampers, to unabashed, anthemic Welsh language jollity, to what sounded like acid trips in the woods, this band soundtracked my transition from GCSE revision to starting sixth form, and they were incredible.

I only tracked down the band's Lucy's Hamper EP in the last five years or so, as hopes of a provincial, commercial music shop selling it at the time were vaingloriously shallow... Getting hold of the band's Ankst Records releases at the time was a real coup, being where I was. I was yet to approve of my parents' record collections, so all this 70s style acid soaked folk mixed with xylophones, recorders, synths, and whatever else Gorky's felt like dabbling with literally blew my mind. Growing up when I did, I can't help but think that teens these days might not be quite so fazed (and dazed) in the here and now, what with all the accessible past. And yet, as I say, I can't imagine anyone dabbling like this, creating anything as imaginative as this. Times are so desperately drab. John Peel is surely running around kicking things over in disgust as he looks down...

The simplicity and stripped back experimentalism of Gorky's Zygotic Mynci's early album, Tatay, has the sound of a bunch of young pals delighting in home recording. They've learnt their instruments, but the elements of fun and exuberance are so clear. The colours, the textures created are alive and wild.

Tatay, followed by Bwyd Time, were albums full of ludicrous songs. The band dressed as wizards in a forest on one CD sleeve served to stoke the sense of psychedelic. Cartoons of mystical elves and recruits from Puff the Magic Dragon adorned sleeves too, and I drank it all in soberly but wide eyed and keen, in disbelief.

The intro to the album Bwyd Time, of the same name, probably serves as a perfectly bizarre starting point:

As I listen to the album again, two songs in particular stand out still, and are still evocative of a wonderful summer of 18 years ago:

Miss Trudy, a wacky, dramatic, funny song about violin lessons and smashed up violins that's also a tribute in pretty ballad form.

Oraphis Yn Delphie is a fantastic instrumental song that follows Miss Trudy on the album. It's a swirling haze of brass and playful, sweet humming, simply like nothing else. Certainly not like Menswear or Supergrass!!!

After those albums came the single Patio Song, which was one of the most brilliant, vivid, lilting, alluringly tuneful singles a young teenager could hear. Totally at odds with all the brash 'Britpop' that had come before. Casually breaking into the Welsh language was a natural part of the song, and I only sang along to it more fiercely, even if I hadn't a clue what was being sung. There was no internet about then, so I can be forgiven for just going along with things, open minded, unable to decipher. Whatever it was, it was fucking amazing! Jools Holland saying of the Welsh language singing: 'That in itself deserves a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen', must have sounded like so much insulting bullshit to the band as they appeared on his show. Though it did feel revolutionary to English speakers, and exciting to me as a teenager, it was the band's mother tongue and it was more about our attitudes and our acceptance than offering a patronising 'Well done'!

Diamond Dew as a single was equally heartstopping, then I bought Young Girls and Happy Endings with its super pop catchiness, which was on the radio often. I helped both get into the top 50 of the charts.

The band delighted me so much, they were honestly a hugely pivotal part of why I chose to go and study at a university in Wales for a time.

I can't boast to have learned Welsh, but I do still carry massive amounts of fondness for Gorky's, and they remain truly creatively great.