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| |  | Mat Turner/Amberwood - Tudor Inn, Wigan
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This underworld where people as talented as Matt Turner exist is an exciting domain for the kind of gig goer who loves uncovering
the occasional gem on a school night. Playing to a crowd of about two dozen can probably be harder than playing to a few hundred
for the local hidden artist, not that Matt would show any kind of apprehension towards playing tonight. He encompasses you
as you sit staring as this shape of a man bares his core to us.
“Songs have got to be like a river, they have to flow.” remarked Matt after the gig, and that flow, that stream
that Matt
inhabits with his songs pulls you in to the sparse under woods of classy blues and acoustic soul. Part crooner at times he
sings “I’ve not the faintest who I am” intense and laid back at the same time. The songs he plays tonight are
of beauty and
wit - wit being in the intelligence sense of the word. “You’re the only fool I wanted to make love to” sung
lovingly wry
to some young lady of the forties.
Towards the end of his set he states that lyrics can cause cancer, maybe he’s the kind of person who’s music inside
of him
is eating away at him, his only treatment to give and share this with others. Let’s hope
so to hear more from him.
After five or six glasses of wine and the recent loss of their guitarist, Rachel’s Amberwood take the spotlight. Or should
that be candle light going off the tepid glow tonight at The Tudor Inn. The creative muse of Rachel is the catalyst for the
songs they play tonight, and while as a three piece they still form those campfire woodland vibes, the other two members of
the group add too much in the way of atmosphere to be disregarded as bit men. After only a few songs, Moco’s own Steve
Jones
proclaims Amberwood “Great! Mint!”.
There are shadows of Kathryn Williams and colourful Joni’s, but the soft vibe that Rachel brings, outdoes any kind of
preliminary
expectation from a female singer songwriter. The new untitled song about “Nature’s magic force” is wonderful
and as the night
descends in a foggy haze of Guinness and Tia Maria pints and red wine goblets (courtesy of MT) a feeling of tranquillity
preoccupies me for a long walk home.
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| | | British Sea Power/Interpol
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How to convert a crowd in two songs!!
British Sea Power encapsulate every thing that any up and coming band should be. Two songs in and amongst stage props of tree
branches, dead leaves, silent flowers, saddles and stuffed birds they tumble, bounce and stare out with an arrogant acid-fried
disbelief as to why the crowd aren’t as passionate as they are about this psycho-sonic chiming rock and roll. Ah, but wait.
There are signs of intrigue on people’s faces, slowly but surely the drive and ambition that enflames the singer Yan’s eyes
acts as a wake up call to the crowd. That and the fact that BSP are an breath-taking live band worthy of obsession.
They are a band for the elitist music fan. Euphoric psychos capable of heart rendering madness, eccentricities and tender
beauty all within ten seconds of one song. ‘Childhood Memories’ floats and pumps around your head and in one guitar chord
breaks your heart with a flutter of cymbals. The guitar player keeps it simple but the way he controls feedback bending it
at will with a moody look of discontent is sublime. They are light and dark both at the same time, twisting ideas around
the neck ‘Fear of Drowning’ and ‘The Spirit of St. Louis’ shimmering and shining from the hidden corners of a Joy Division
squat.
Not only do they put on a great show but they are totally absorbed in the music they make that when the real madness starts,
after they had overrun by some minutes, the guitarists takes it upon himself to dismantle the stage, clearing the trees into
the crowd, throwing the drums stage right, while banging guitar rackets from his head. All the while Yan is in the bassist
face giving the best impression of Ian Curtis on speed while the drummer beats on what’s left of his now desolate drums. They
eventually pogo off stage as a ringing of shredded feedback stings the ears. Disbelief that these are only the support band,
not for long as they are off round the UK. See them and become passionate about the mad, psycho babbled sound of British Sea
Power.
And of the headliners Interpol? Who gives a shit after seeing a performance like that from British Sea Power. Well, ok, I
only saw about 10/15 minutes as I had to depart for the train due to the over-running of BSP, but of what I saw I liked. The
moody eighties beat and the control over light and dark tones in their songs was cleverly implied. Plus they looked the part
in sharp black suits and also have a young Marty McFly on bass. Nice young lads really but not half as intense as they aim
to be.
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Agent Olive - The Tavern, Wigan
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Agent Olive are starting to sound every nostalgic inch the band they will become. Every time I see them, they get better and
tighter as a band. Their own songs, tinged with late 60’s/early 70’s vibes and rhythms, stand up greatly to those
of their
influences, one of them covered tonight with The Band’s ‘Up on cripple creek’. This is quality indie-pop music
as it should
be played. The shite that litters the charts isn’t music as such, but what Agent Olive have is the kind of appeal that
Coldplay,
a heartfelt Oasis and Starsailor have, not to say that they are downbeat, quite the contrary, they are buoyant and know how
to boogie an audience, even if they do pinch a few tricks from old influences.
‘Show a little piece of your heart’ is the kind of song that would warrant a release from any record company worth
their salt.
Pity there’s not many about. Their front man is of the classic sort, he rasps, rises and charms his way through songs
all
of which have quite a lot going on in them. Sally B, the guitarist deserves a mention for looking the 70’s iconic part,
complete
with haircut and suit, as well as being a top quality muso. They are a real polished treat for any one capturing them live.
Enjoy the nostalgic sunshine.
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| | | Moco/Electric6 - Night & Day Cafe, Manchester
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Where to look was on people’s minds as Steve Jones, chief mouth piece for this blistering IggyStrokesMC5 four piece, humped
his monitor speaker doggie style in front of a bewildered but excited crowd. People smile at Moco, their boundless enthusiasm
for dirty rock and roll blended with on stage antics (see Russian dancing, licking walls, sex acts with mics) from one of
the most instantly watchable and comical singers ever to present themselves to an audience of unaware of what is to come.
Of course there are those that expect some kind of tomfoolery from Mr. Jones, but even then he finds ways of surprising you
still.
The place is packed full of Rock&Roll haircuts and retro clothes adorned by the majority of Manchester’s music fans and a
general feeling of apathy that comes along with any opening act eager to please/piss off as many people as possible bodes
well as it makes Moco try harder to inject some life into this little café. By the time of ‘where she goes’ came around “Single
of the week – NME!” we are eating out the loins of Steve’s pants and the furious rapier like performance of Wigan’s newest
export.
There are some great songs here that are becoming engrained in my skull the more I hear them. ‘Flooky Wonderland’ , the single
‘Where She Goes’ incredibly instant “You’d better believe it!” and at the closing song ‘The New Official Truth’ chaotic,
raucous and utterly brilliant, we’re left with our Rock&Roll haircuts messed up with feedback, while Steve, collapsed in exhausted
pieces, lies floored as the rest of the band start to pack for their second gig of the night due in 30 minutes.
The new official truth that Moco encompass is awakening at just the right time, what with others like The Libertines, 80’s
Matchbox, The Datsuns, The Beatings and The Strokes gaining notoriety for blazing gigs bringing back inbred rock and roll
of the sexy dirty love kind that was the best of the 70’s. The new rock order of the UK looks healthy, with Moco mingling
in on the act, here’s to more furious gigs that don’t need to be analysed by the likes of me but just enjoyed for the inyourface
fuckoff good time feeling of Rock&Roll that all these bands possess. “Let’s hear it for the Moco boys!”. Let’s hear it
indeed.
And what of Detroit’s Electric 6, riding on the back of a rumour mill involving a Mr Jack White of White Stripes fame, they
gallop on stage, suited and booted minus Mr White but plus interested crowd. Fronted by a curly topped Jim Carey look-alike
they stomp into their dark disco beats like electric demons wanting to romp our soul. Pointing to one audience member “Girl,
when I’m fucking you, nothing else matters”. They’re a powerful and kick ass boogie sort of band, operating in a seedy rock
disco city with exclusive membership. But they will get you in.
One song invites you to take an ironic look at the other side with the front man posing for Playgirl in-between singing “I’m
gonna take you to a gay bar”. They’ll make you laugh, shake your ass and point like John Travolta with a gormless grin stretching
your lips. Check them out when they come back to our shores in Spring.
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