Six By Seven, The Bull and Gate, Kentish Town, 1st May, 2013

Six By Seven were incredible live last night. Excellent that they came back to a small indie venue like the Bull and Gate. I told myself I wasn't going to be nostalgic, but despite online descriptions about the band being due to play lots of old material, they only played one old song - and I was glad. I was riveted by the unfamiliar songs - the sound was perfect, crisp but menacing bass, and it lent more prominence to the organ, and Chris Olley's voice. I felt like I was enjoying his abrasive singing more than ever - it was clearer in volume, but still as rasping and downright pissed off.

I had a moment where I caught myself getting a bit teary-eyed. I just can't believe this brilliant backroom of a beautiful and historical pub is going go from being a classic little indie gig venue for small, hopeful bands, to a fucking middle class dining room. How can anyone let this happen? Surely some musician or record label type with money would have the sense and desire and money to buy it out and save it, but no one seems to care. I've felt hopeless myself, since the deal was already done before I found out, and also not having the funds or living near enough hinders me.



I was getting a bit misty eyed about what I will always look back on as - for me - a golden age in radio, singles, indie labels, music press, and indie bands. But it's not about that - I would still want this to remain a venue for little bands. The support band tonight were testament to why we need places like this - free from gross brand sponsorship and watered down extortionate beer, and not a posers' playground, just good new bands in the backroom of a nice old north London pub. If I ought to be getting misty eyed about anything, it is the way gigs used to be. How you didn't go to venues just because they were in the latest hip cool new part of town, and clothes and image were an aside, and you didn't have to fight to book tickets on the internet half a year in advance and be broke because of the ridiculous cost - just turn up, pay a fiver on the door, nevermind who's on the bill, just investigate new things...

I digress. Six by Seven were even more enjoyable live than I had imagined. Well, I saw them headline over British Sea Power at ULU roughly ten years ago, but I struggle to remember so far back exactly. So seeing them now, I felt so captivated. I was also ridiculously excited right before they came on, and when they first stepped onstage - like I have not felt in years and years.

They really are a unique band, stand alone in what they do. So fierce. And wittily bitter about how they didn't get as big as they deserved (jokes about how Ash supported them at next door's huge Forum venue years ago, and where are they now? Sunning it on a beach in Italy). They are so necessary when indie music in its mainstream form has become so formulaic and helplessly bland, and... for everyone. It feels like music is dead, and they re-affirm striking out on your own.

A lot of the new songs actually sounded so pretty, and they were slow and melodic. I felt in a dream with the fairylights and the church-like music stand, and the swirling lights and music swooning about too.



Why wasn't this gig sold out ten times over? Because people still don't get it, and I'd like to say that's part of the attraction with Six By Seven, when really it's just erroneous in people/the media past and present. But, so saying - I honestly thought this gig would be utterly corrosive on the ears.... corruscating; when the new stuff was actually shining with bright melody, even kind of upbeat - so the new stuff could arouse far more interest. Shoegazing is all cool now too, of course..

Possibly more (sophisticated) photos to follow, as I ran into John Marshall, who seems to be at a gig every night of his life and he was snapping away fervently... Now to buy the more recent Six by Seven albums I do not have. New album coming in July!

My local vicar is a British Sea Power fan! I was at a local market event at a church near me, and a jolly old man in tweed, in vicar collar pointed at my Heron Addict t-shirt with delight. He enthused about 'obscure bands' - though we both agreed that actually, BSP aren't so obscure anymore. Something so brilliant and right about that! I want BSP to play at the annual village fete now...

Machineries of Joy, by British Sea Power

The new British Sea Power album is worth getting on vinyl - because you get a free CD of the album inside too! All my BSP stuff is on CD bar two little one-off singles, so I was a bit unsure when I got to Banquet Records and found they had no copies of the CD left (more due to come), and I wasn't banking on the £14.99 cost. But I had my loyalty card with me, and that knocked the price down, which was good - got new record needles, and a recent album by Gravenhurst into the bargain.

I had listened to the pre-release 'streaming' of the album before it came out, as I knew I wouldn't be able to buy it up on day of release (as I was out of the country - missed the band's cruise and gig party, but I had much needed sunshine to soak up). I wasn't sure I would like the album. I wasn't expecting so many of my favourite songs from the demo EPS to not be included, and some of the choices suprised me.

But it is growing on me more and more, and seeing them play live recently cemented it all really. The title track is just great. The video with the bike ride, and the images they projected live add to things - they've gone all nice, slow and thoughtful and epic sounding.

Spring has Sprung is an appropriate sentiment of a song finally, and it is my favourite song on the album - possibly closely followed by What You Need the Most, which conjures ballroom lights a-twinkle, slow-dancing.

I need to have an evening listening to the 6 demo EPs in succession, and then hearing the resultant album. But taken in itself, it is a refreshing sound; no other bands like them. Against their previous material (and I can do this, as I've been with the band since the earliest days of 2001, followed their changes and ascent), it is still very much the sound of a band that are precious to me, yet it's different sounding for them, development; and I'm glad.

Here is my latest BSP scout's patch (this band have the very best in merchandise):



At the gig, I gave in to buying a new BSP mug too. It seems essential getting-out-bed inspiration. It has a bee design, and something magical happens when you pour hot water in. The bee slowly fades away, and you're met with 'BEE' 'GONE' - alluding to both their song of similar (punned) name, and to the ailing bee population. Care for the environment - that is what I like in a band. On sale, the band also had a t-shirt that read BIPOLAR - two polar bears side by side. Onstage during the encore, we were treated to the sight of an 8 foot polar bear suited person stomping about, clspping its great paws, causing mischief. Doesn't get much better than this!

Record-buying is for life, not just Record Store Day

I really enjoyed seeing Allo' Darlin' live at Rough Trade in Notting Hill last year - rain and shine - as part of Record Store Day. The live events highlighting bands and inspiring you to go on and buy a band's stuff and become a fan is the bit about Record Store Day I enjoy, if I am honest (And it certainly changed my mind about Allo' Darlin', and now I couldn't imagine life without them).

It's not about ticking stuff off the list of official releases /showing off about what rare thing you got at all for me.

Anything that encourages record shopping/people flocking to independent record shops is positive, yes. But again, Record Store Day rolls around and I find myself tending to feel ambivalent about what is largely a bunch of re-releases that are overly priced. I feel sad that it has to exist, that it feels like a way of boosting sales, and I can't help but feel a bit cold. I wrote an article in the first issue of The All Thrills No Frills Music Bill paper fanzine last year to collate such feelings - I wish people would be as fervent about record buying all year round, essentially. I also wrote about record fairs and how they should be thriving if vinyl really has made the 'comeback' that gets written about. But it's the 'new' factor (as in shiny new objects) that rules instead.

I don't think I need to do more than casually hint at the kind of buying-and-selling-on mania/e-Bay type profiteering that gets ecouraged, and how empty and dispiriting all that is, either.

I suppose what I'm getting at is the alienation I feel when faced with the impulses that Record Store Day can inspire - almost like music is a mostly-downloadable thing all year round, but for this one day when you can buy up stuff that has been heavily promoted.

And I feel bad for those record shops not participating (did I hear right that stores have to pay to take part?). I've been in non-participating stores on Record Store in previous years and many were empty. I get to wondering if the Monday after Record Store Day isn't the quietest day of the year for all reocrd shops (well, after new year, perhaps). I think the thing to do would be to go in on that Monday (or that week) and buy stuff then, support the record shops that didn't take part on a day that is deadly quiet - support the lesser knowns, and the underdogs.

Haiku Salut, live at Buffalo Bar, London, 28th March, 2013

I was intrigued by Haiku Salut, from the moment I saw the playful and mysterious video for Los Elefantes. The instrumental music transported me a world away from any other new indie artists - combining tremulous piano cadences with French accordion; akin to Yann Tiersen's work on Amélie but with lively electronic beats and a sense of urgent pop underpinning.



Few new indie acts interest me so much as Haiku Salut who are promisingly unique and inventive. The focus being entirely on the music - and their classical musicianship - for one, marks them out. How many more four or five man 4-beat guitar/bass/drums bands can we take? I recently opened up two or three free music magazines on the same day to find that almost every page was adorned with men; bearded men. There was complete homogeneity in these gangs of men and their beards. It was totally dispiriting to see that any females that did feature in these widely distributed publications were afforded only tokenistic spaces. Even the blustersomely great Joy Formidable took a back-seat in the scheme of things.

In Haiku Salut we have three richly talented females, and if the world has any sense, their music-making and spirited approaches to songwriting will be celebrated from the rooftops - although, quietly, tenderly in people's hearts is perhaps more apt.

It was wonderful to see the band live at a How Does it Feel to Be Loved? night. The night was laced with true elegance. Never have I been to such a gently wonderful gig - nor with such a prominence of violins and other interesting and undervalued instruments in alternative music. Little Orchestra were just that, and there was a nice hush at times as we all strained to attune to this new experience of silence playing its part in between grand sweeps of classical-like compositions. I feel like I was being reprimanded for daring to squeeze past people to get to the toilets at one point! The next couple of bands were a bit different - there was a squeaky dog toy at one point. With Haiku Salut, there was a sense of expectancy and thrill in the air of welcoming such a positively creative new band. Here, the glockenspiel sound was particularly welcome, and the songs tinkled with dreamy delight. The sound of video game style electronic blips and beats hurrying gladly along work so well against the stark sophistication of piano, violin, acoustic guitar, and so on. I love the variety of acoustic drums too - sometimes just a primitive tap of drumsticks across the metal top of a bass drum, or some Jesus and Mary Chain style soft mallets played standing up.

I wonder if the indie basement retreat, the Buffalo Bar, was quite the right settings for such sounds, though. There ought to have been a revered hush, and not the gaggle of chatterers filling the air, but it was a Friday night atmosphere, what with it being the night before a long bank holiday weekend. Carried away by the grandeur of the cinematic sounds, and merry liquids imbibed, I said to my friend: They should be playing the Royal Albert Hall, not this place! A bit extreme at this stage, but I do mean it that this is the kind of new alternative music I want to be elevated to great heights, and Haiku Salut really feel me with imagination and inspiration.

Windmill dog / all-day Easter gig at Brixton Windmill

This big creature was keenly overseeing the free barbecue at The Windmill in Brixton yesterday!

Good to go to an afternoon-into-evening gig on a Good Friday. It was much too cold to be having a barbecue, but on arrival we managed to eat vegetarian burgers and salads in the freezing outdoor garden - my friend with gloves on! There were about three terrifyingly large dargs on the roof as we ate, plus we got unwanted conversation from someone with a musical Noddy doll, which made for an unsettling start.



It was excellent to see Viv Albertine once again, though. Small wonder that she is playing somewhere as compact as this. She was greeted like a legend, by many, rightly, though. Her songs and lyrics are so off-kilter, funny, clever, political, great. She said she had arrived feeling grumpy, and had multiple technical problems - including us witnessing her getting electric shocks on her mouth so bad, she resorted to putting what looked like a sock over her mic. But her smile was as sunny as this Easter day in April should have been. She was inspiring and entertaining to watch, really reaffirmed my faith in things. I must definitely buy some of her albums at next financial opportunity.

Interestingly, I bought some old music magazines on a market recently - one of which was an edition of Q from late last year. Inside, there was a mock image of a cover of Q with Viv Albertine on the cover, saying if the magazine had been around in the late 70s, that's how it would've looked. Hello, Q! Viv Albertine is very much alive, performing, and kicking - so what's your excuse ?

(Above photo of Viv Albertine from the Strummerville event I went to a few years ago as didn't get to take any photos at the Windmill gig).

EDIT: Since I wrote this post, it's been announced that Viv Albertine has written an autobiography! This will be utterly superb, and I cannot wait. We need many more female rock musician biographies, there are not so many.

Two of my favourite openings to songs are -

'Bless my cotton socks, I'm in the news'

And:

'I wrote a poem on a dog biscuit - but your dog refused to look at it'

Just perfect!

(from Reward by The Teardrop Explodes, and The 4th of July by Galaxie 500)