God Save The Bombergs

Okily dokily, time for one more post before the looooooooooooooooooong weekend (bless you Lizzie). Brums finest The Bombergs unleash this beauty, Soft, at a single launch in The Bulls Head on Sunday 3rd (support from Tom Peel amongst others). It's a cracking tune, harking back to early XTC by way of LCD Soundsystem's Losing My Edge. Play it loud, play it often. Enjoy!

PS: The single's out on Speech Fewapy Records. Long may they reign over us...

Gary Numan / Officers @ HMV Institute, Thursday 31st May 2012

Numan’s career’s seen as many ups and downs as one of his flying displays (he was, by all accounts, one of the best aerobatic pilots around), from slightly scary synthpop pioneer through to, well, slightly scary industrial rock god. Back in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s he fell seriously out of favour and by his own admission made some dodgy albums. Then, as so often happens if you stick around long enough, he started to get the credit he deserved with everyone from Dave Grohl and Jarvis Cocker to (somewhat bizarrely) Kanye West outing themselves as full on Numanoids. Judging by the look of many of the hardcore fans here tonight (an impressive number of whom were sporting t-shirts from the ghosts of tours past) it’s still Numan v1.0 that’s the big draw and given the fact that he’s not hugely fond of looking back this tour’s an all too rare chance to hear all of the classic hits plus some rarely played gems all in one go.

First up though Leeds 4 piece Officers provide the perfect Numan warm up. In fact it would be pretty hard to come up with a better band to get you in the Numan mood. Whilst their musical touchstones include a bit of NIN, Ministry and maybe even a little Einstürzende Neubauten they’re clearly Numan’s children and pick of the set, Co-education, with its “machine, machine” refrain is one of the best blends of synth and rock around right now. The band’s currently raising the profile of a charity called CALM, designed to tackle the rising tide of suicides amongst men under 35, and they were giving away limited edition CDs in exchange for donations. A worthy cause from a band well worth checking out.    

As the NOOOMANNOOOMANNOOOMAN chants built in volume the lights dimmed and, like a visiting deity he appeared dressed all in regulation black. He seems in great shape, a lean, mean rock machine, only the extraordinary hair (some kind of nylon weave?) giving the game away that he’s now in his mid 50’s. Curiously many of tonight’s songs still sound pretty fresh too. Of course he sounded well ahead of his time back in the day, like some kind of bizarre robot beamed back from the future to scare the bejesus out of young children watching Top Of The Pops. Those early hits paved the way for the whole synthpop scene (Soft Cell, Human League, Heaven 17, Depeche Mode and co) before he moved in a rockier direction, again opening things up for the likes of Nine Inch Nails. As you’d expect given it formed most of his career tonight was overwhelmingly rocky from the broodingly brilliant Berserker through to the more industrial sounding stuff like RIP (albeit with a surprisingly funky sounding bassline this evening).

Frequently anointing himself with water throughout the gig there’s something slightly messianic about the performance, with Numan himself even pulling the odd arms outstretched crucifixion pose. Given the adoration of his fans it wouldn’t take a huge leap to imagine some kind of Numanic religion springing up a la L Ron Hubbard, despite Gary’s avowed atheism.

Showing that the tin man has a heart Numan was joined by Russell Bell and Chris Payne part way through the set (members of his old backing band Dramatis) to play a moving version of Love Needs No Disguise in tribute to fellow band member Cedric Sharpley who died back in March. It was great to hear some violin in the mix, adding a more human touch to what was clearly an emotional track for them to play.

The distinctly Japan sounding Warriors (from 83’s album of the same name) hinted at the era we were heading back to for the latter part of the set and, for the more casual Numan fan, this was where the nuggets lay. I Die You Die saw Numan wreathed in stark monochromatic lighting with an old school TDK 90 Tape unravelling behind him. Tape, that’s one thing from the ‘80s that can well and truly stay there. Ugh! The hours we spent trying to respool several hundred feet of tape using a pencil. The swirling synths of We Are Glass still sound like they’ve been beamed back from the 22^nd century, a feeling aided as ever by Numan’s distinctive half man, half machine vocals.

Teasing the crowd with a pounding run through 2007’s Healing (showing the industrialists that Numan can still cut it) the encore and gig ended with the big crowd pleasers and whether you’re a Numanoid or not it’s impossible to deny the power of a souped up Cars (sounding much rockier than in its original in-car-nation). Despite throwing himself around for the best part of two hours Numan’s still had some mileage left in the tank and it’s a lively performance, distinctly at odds from the days when he just stood and glared at you from behind a keyboard.

In 2012 the idea behind Are Friends Electric? (tonight benefitting from a pleasingly different piano driven reboot) is arguably so much more relevant than it was 30 odd years ago. With millions of people finding it easier to connect with the world through a screen and an increasing number of us zombified by our mobiles (hell, some people seemed to watch the whole gig through the screen of their shitty phones) this hymn to alienation could’ve been written last week. “You see this means everything to me” sang Numan, his arms sweeping out in front of him to the audience and a gentle smile playing across his face. For the hundreds of fans still chanting NOOOMAN as he left this stage the feeling’s clearly mutual. 

Public Service Broadcasting - Spitfire

Okay, been meaning to post this for a few weeks now but better late than never eh? Sampling Leslie Howard from the classic war movie The First Of The Few it's a (oddly enough given the samples) Krautrock-ish track that...erm...invades its way into your brain and refuses to leave.

It's taken from the band's brand new EP, The War Room, a mash up of instrumentals and spoken word stuff culled from the BFI's National Archive. It's all rather moving and atmospheric, a strange combination of clipped vowels and dreamy music that someone seems entirely appropriate given the distinctly retro vibe being created by the Jubilee and Olympics right now...isn't all that torch business just wonderfully, eccentrically old school British eh?

King Charles / Beta Blocker and the Body Clock / King of Cats @ O2 Academy, Monday 28th May

Nope, the Queen hasn’t gone to that great walk about in the sky leaving her eldest in charge (lord help us), this particular King Charles has bugger all to do with the Windsor lot. He looks the part though, far more than any member of our royal family has for...ooooh...the odd century or four. With enough hair to make several thousand merkins and a suitably raffish moustache he cuts a dashing figure, part Pirates of the Caribbean, part Barbara Cartland’s wet dream. King Charles the pop star men want to be and women want to...ahem...be with.

Kicking off the evening though (kicking off being a pretty appropriate description in fact) in the sweltering heat (boy it was hot in there) was King of Cats, a one man tornado of rage and hurt...with a bit of a comedy twist...I think (you can never be sure in this post-irony world). Short in stature and high in voice he’s a lo-fi meltdown wandering the tightrope of despair and frequently falling off, only to grab back on and haul himself up at the last minute. You’ll either love him or hate him, there’s no half way house here and for some his toddler tantrum vocals could be as excruciating as nails down a blackboard. I rather liked him. Cult-dom surely (and deservedly) beckons...

Less divisive, Beta Blocker and the Body Clock (one man, one drummer) trawl a similar street as San Fran’s indie rock icons Girls. Clearly the temperature (by this stage it was so ‘hott in here’ Nelly was seen wandering naked by the bar...one for the grandparents) wasn’t helping the band’s woozy fuzz pop sounds connect with the crowd.  

Happily someone had found the on switch for the air conditioning by the time King Charles came on stage. A good job too. Dressed to thrill all in white, shirt unbuttoned to reveal little kiss curls of chest hair (steady ladies) you half expect him to go straight into an impersonation of Rik Mayall’s Lord Flashheart. Woof! Channelling his inner Hendrix (not for the first time this evening there was a bit of Jimi in there) Mr Flick - a bold mix of folk, rock and rap - opened up the set and, despite not featuring on the King’s debut album, Love Blood, it’s arguably the best example of ‘Glam Folk’, a term that he’s used to describe his particular sound. The crowd loved it and it’s not hard to see why. There’s a sad lack of real characters in music these days and if nothing else KC brings a splash of old skool glamour back to a world that’s become increasingly safe and bland. In fact you’d probably have to go back to the glory days of Adam Ant (surely a shoe in for Charles’ spiritual granddad?) to see someone who clearly cares so much about the ‘look’.

All image and no tunes would still make Charlie a dull boy though. Fortunately he’s got plenty stuffed down his codpiece, from the impossibly jaunty Mississippi Isabel (Regina Spector meets Vampire Weekend) to the distinctly Adam Ant-ish Polar Bear. The crowd lapped it all up, this blend of folk, rock and white boy afrobeat, clapping and singing along with an impressive degree of enthusiasm for a distinctly sweaty Monday night in Birmingham. In fact it’s a measure of how much the fans have clutched the King to their bosoms that so many people seemed to know all the words, a mere three weeks after the album came out (although many tracks have been floating about the interweb in one form or another for a while). Despite sweating buckets he gave back the love, playing most of the album’s songs over an hour or so and bravely leaping about as well as unsteadily mounting the keyboard at one point. When the stages grow in size with the audience I imagine we’ll see him do more of this kind of stuff, swinging from chandeliers, sliding down banisters, leaping from speaker to speaker with a rose between his teeth...that kind of thing. Just me? Oh. Okay.

The inevitable encore was preceded by rousing chants of “We love Charles” and he reappeared for a solo run though Love Is The Cure. Any female hearts that remained frozen were well and truly melted. The band (featuring a bassist wearing a cravat...nice touch dude) rejoined his majesty for Ivory Road (“you’re the wax in my moustache”...I hear ya there brother) and finally a clever rebooting of Billy Joel’s classic We Didn’t Start The Fire, proof that he’s just as concerned with social matters as he is with those of the heart. Well, kind of.

Despite the fact that at least 50% of the audience were just a security barrier away from tearing the clothes off his back he came amongst his subjects after the show, posing for photos, signing whatever was put in front of him (no breasts sadly...tut tut...young people today) and chatting with a lengthy queue of fans...some of whom (mainly the ladies...freaky) were sporting a range of stick on taches (£2 from the merch desk).

Good looks, good tunes and good times. There’s a new king of pop and you’d (wait for it...pun warning ahoy) have to be right Charlie to miss out.

Florrie-P

Future pop princess Florrie releases the latest in her series of EP's (Late) on May 31st and it's the usual high quality mix that we've come to expect from the former Xenomania house band drummer and model...a drummer and a model...yep...hubba hubba. After a protracted mating dance she's recently signed to a 'major label' too so expect HUGE things in the coming year or two.

Meanwhile latecomers to the Florrie party can also get stuck in to this little beauty...



...oh and this one too...

Louis Barabbas & the Bedlam Six / Alabaster de Plume @ Hare & Hounds, Thursday 24th May

There’s an art to putting on lipstick. Arguably taping it to your guitar and trying to apply it WHILST playing isn’t usually the best technique. But then again the chap doing it (yes, I said chap), Mr Louis Barabbas, isn’t your usual musician either...

First up tonight though a word or two about the splendidly named support act Alabaster de Plume, part poet, part singer songwriter and part semi-detached observer of the human race.  Imagine if Morrissey, Kenneth Williams and Dylan Thomas had a kid together (tricky I’ll grant you, but pretty much everything’s possible these days), I reckon the resulting wonderful human being would be de Plume. “I imagined one day that an image of the Queen was talking to me” he explained, staring into space before launching into I’m The Queen, a gloriously unhinged trawl through her Majesty’s inner thoughts. Stuff Gary Barlow’s track, make this the official Jubilee anthem. Brilliant.

Until recently tonight’s headliner Louis Barabbas sported the finest beard in music. Fact. He’d been growing it for two long years but then he hacked it all off for the video to his band’s latest release Deep Enough.



Powerful stuff eh? Amazingly enough this was actually the intention when he started growing it, which demonstrates the kind of forward planning that would put most bands (and economists for that matter) to shame. There’s more to the man – and band – than the beard though, mighty as it was. Some artists wander on and do their thing, some really get into it and one or two edge dangerously close to expiring right there in front of us. Louis belongs firmly in the last category, throwing himself around (and off) the stage, flinging his legs in the air like a showgirl on speed and neatly rearranging several vertebrae in the process.  Ouch. Highkicking things off with Mother, which wouldn’t sound out of place in Lionel Bart’s Oliver!, Barabbas bounds around the place, his face alive with a million and one expressions. It was pretty warm in here tonight and a lesser man may well have knocked it back a gear or two but you know what, I just don’t reckon he has it in him to give less than 100%. “This is a song about murdering your wife...” he explained with more than a little gleam in his eye before launching into a surprisingly upbeat number. In fact several of tonight’s best songs seemed to focus on the sticky subject of love and, on top of the anthem to spousicide already mentioned, we got “this is a song about being married too long” (Thick Carpets, Old Lifts) and “this is a song about being cheated on by a girl” (Mary) too. Maybe it’s his way with the lippie that doesn’t go down too well with the ladies? In fact by the end of the set a good 80% of his face was smeared with what looked like the entire contents of a Boots make-up counter, a bloody red mask...perhaps in place of that missing beard eh?

It’s tricky to categorise the precise musical style of the band (it’s unlikely that they know themselves) but they’ve been described as ‘dirt-swing’, whatever the heck that means. It’s theatrical, a little rocky, a little folky, a little punky, a little New Orleans jazz...shades of the great Sensational Alex Harvey Band in places maybe? Tom Waits jamming with Gogol Bordello? A music lesson in a Victorian asylum for the criminally insane? Other than that I’m struggling to come up with any comparisons and in this day and age that’s all too rare.

There was some first class banter too, particularly between Louis and the drummer, culminating in some kind of a cat fucking challenge. Rumours that Louis was later to be found wandering the back streets of Kings Heath looking for a suitable partner were still unconfirmed at the time of writing.  A Barrab-astounding performance all round. 

The Semi Regular New Music Roundup Thingy

Remember Neneh Cherry? Chances are if you’re under 30 probably not. No matter. She was an in yer face bundle of rapitude and, happily, quarter of a century later she ain’t lost that spirit. Covering a Madvillain/MF Doom track against a bit of a free jazz background isn’t likely to guarantee a smash hit but I rate this...big time. The new album The Cherry Thing is out on June 18^th on Smalltown Supersound. Niiiiice.

This couldn’t be more ‘80’s if you glued it to a DeLorean with bits of melted down Rubik’s Cubes. Age Of Consent’s Heartbreak wears its influences proudly, the Mode, Pet Shop Boys, Soft Cell...it’s all in there. Ahhhhh...makes me feel young again...well youngish.

Regular readers will know all about my man crush on Norway’s Team Me. Their latest single only goes to reinforce it...ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...blissful.

Sooooo...electro and rockabilly hook up in a low rent motel and do the nasty...9 months later out pops Drop The Lime. It’s a weird mix but, ya know, I kinda like weird.

Last up for this edition of everyone's favourite New Music Roundup Thingy, Manchester soul sista Lauren Housley debuting tracks from her forthcoming debut EP One Step Closer. Lovin’ the lush strings n’soul of See My Baby Cry...

Louis Barabbas & The Bedlam Six go deeeeeep

There have been some memorable videos over the years, Jackson's Thriller, Gabriel's Sledgehammer, Fat Boy's  Praise You but I'd like to add another one to the list...Louis Barabbas & The Bedlam Six's latest. I won't spoil it, just watch...

You can catch the band touring the UK from May 24th where the tour kicks off at the Hare (maybe that should be Hairy) & Hounds. Tickets here. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.