If music be the food of love....do I get fries with it?
Posted Sat 16 Aug 2008 20:02 by lazarus.
On paper, the Shuffle doesn’t really seem to be anything out of the ordinary. What I mean is, the bare facts are, it’s really a bunch of local bands, playing the usual venues to, by and large, a lot of the regular punters. Doesn’t seem too much to get worked up about does it? It might feature an intense dose of the usual suspects, but there is little new to see here, right? You couldn’t be more wrong. Statistics may be fine for conveying basic facts, but the Shuffle is about so much more than a large number of bands descending on the town centre. Those that witnessed last year’s event saw the stirrings of something intangible drifting around the venues, a spirit, a camaraderie, a collection of people all supporting a cause... a cause that only required you to enjoy yourself. This year that spirit was back in spades and the Shuffle itself had moved on from being merely a great idea to being an entity in its own right. It had become much more than the sum of its parts, bigger than the musicians, the promoters, the punters, the staff. The Shuffle had developed an identity so obvious that you could provide it with its own passport.
Things kicked off on the Thursday at Riffs Bar, with a fringe event also taking place at The Elm Tree in Chisledon, but until time travel or cloning become commonplace, I can only be in one place at any given time, so you will have to read about their night somewhere else. Even though Riffs is a bit off the beaten track in relation to the rest of the venues, it had a brilliant turn out and an atmosphere so highly charged it was like waiting for a storm to break. And break it did, in the form of Truth be Told playing an avalanche of unrelenting hardcore. By the time the set was coming to an end, band and audience seemed to have merged into one writhing mass and the singer had not only mislaid his trousers but all but handed vocal duties to the audience, notably the Diablo 13 front-man, thus making it the first Carter affair of the weekend! Veer Luth carried on delivering the goods, with their trademark mix of menace and thunder, throwing songs old and new at the audience. Punk prodigies, The Parodies, were certainly in their element here, playing alongside such heavyweights, and rose to the occasion by offering up a high energy set of punk and ska blends that belied their young age. There was only one way to top such an adrenalin soaked launch night and the infamous Two Sick Monkeys didn’t let the side down. The real treat for us older punters came with the inclusion in the set of a bunch of Cut Throat Razor songs, by way of a tribute to their old band mate, Dave Makepeace, who sadly died ten years ago. He would have been blown away by such a night of ferocious and energetic music. I’m sure he was there in spirit.
In keeping with the amount of musical related activity going on in Swindon these days, Friday saw me fifteen miles away and playing a gig, dressed as a highwayman, at the most amazing wedding that ever took place, and if there ever was a valid reason for not being at the 12 Bar for day two, I had it. The downside, however, is that it became apparent from talking to people later on that weekend that I missed some amazing bands. Buswell in particular were one that I regret not seeing as they have now augmented their line up so as to be able to reproduce the extra sounds that they create in their recordings. The Attica Seasons seemed to impress a lot of people as it was a name I kept overhearing as I ear-wigged other peoples’ conversations, and the Alfonz were described by one well-respected musical stalwart as “looking like the stars they are clearly going to be”. No small praise indeed. The one visible problem of the weekend came when The Apartment, the host venue to the more dance and urban acts, decided to pull the plug on proceedings at around midnight, leaving Kandifunk and the other acts, not to mention the audience, all dressed up with nowhere to go. That’s the trouble with the mainstream, it will always let you down.
I managed to get to the Rolleston in time to see Lizzy Spit, the third act of the day, do her thing, her thing being a wonderful storytelling acoustic balladry, and already the place was heaving. Even after two days the Shuffle spirit was still looming large, woven even tighter as people shared stories, debated the merits of various bands, tried to out-class each other with tales of lack of sleep and over imbibing, and even compared wounds…well probably. Acoustic Taxi soothed us with their soulful tunes, and Sing Sing Hotel moved it up a notch with a set of warm and slightly retro rock. Even when their keyboards broke down, they retained their charm and humour. Such is the nature of live music. At this point the gods of fate smiled and a slight reShuffle (you see what I did there?!) to the line up meant that I could nip into the Furnace to catch some good friends who no longer clashed with the Rolleston’s main act.
Diablo 13 had undergone a few changes in line-up recently, but they managed to kick out a pounding set of testosterone charged, gasoline soaked, whiskey chaser classics in the making. You could almost see the spirit of Ian Astbury hovering above them, nodding approvingly. Back upstairs and Talk In Code blasted through a set of anthems that cried out for a stadium show. Still, the Rolleston was almost overflowing by then, so I expect that they were content with the size of the crowd and its response. Like so many bands this weekend, they seem to have raised their game, not to mention the rafters, for the occasion, and filled the room with their big sound. A wonderful advert for their forthcoming release. On a personal note, about two songs in, the food my better-half and I had ordered had arrived, and so I dined and drank in good company, in a venue that was one big party and with one of the top local bands playing the soundtrack. It doesn’t get much better than that.
From here on in the Furnace played host to some of the cream of the local scene. Those who have experienced the mesmerising majesty of The Divebomb Revolution will understand just how difficult it is to put their qualities down in simple words. It would be enough if they were just three brilliant musicians but, as a live act, they are also a visual experience, three people all treating their given instruments as lead elements but never at the expense of the songs. It would take a great band to follow that. Thankfully, one came along in the nick of time in the form of the newly reformed The Carter Affair, mixing old style rock, post-rock and even pop elements in a whirlwind of experimentation and musical craftsmanship. If there was an award for overcoming adversity then Jeff Like Usual would win it. Although injury had reduced them to about one and a quarter guitars, this confident young band managed to pull off a blinder of a set. A combination of having a more spacious sound, the natural progression of their song writing, as well as the inclusion of keyboard and acoustic driven songs, all made for a band that had come a long way in the year since I had seen them last, and they were pretty damned good then.
One of the talking points of last year’s Shuffle, and occupying the same position in this year’s line-up, Seven Years On carried on the momentum of the evening with ease and, if anything, taking it to even greater heights. Their mix of pop melodies and rock sensibility, pace and restraint, light and shade, always make for a great experience, and they proved that they can still kick arse and cut the mustard with the best of them….whatever that means. They seem to have the ability to churn out songs that get stuck in your head, Nails, In Limbo, and Impossible, all would be classics if there were any justice in the world. Proof that there isn’t came next with the realisation that Durera now took the stage for the very last time. I am aware that they are all going on to work as other bands, and Gaz will still be seen drunkenly plying his acoustic trade in any bar that will give him free beer, but it’s still a massive loss to the local scene. The biggest cheer of the night, thus far, came as bassist Jamie removed his shirt to reveal the words “Ten Pint Hero” a reference to the fact that in the past a pre-gig drinking limit had often been imposed on him. Well, not tonight. As if to rub it in our faces, they went out playing as if their life depended on it. Wonderfully loose, but never missing a beat; relaxed, but in your face; a whirlwind of energy and infectious musical display. Their top spot was perfectly justified as they fired off one of the best performances of their career. They also went out with the perfect party piece, Jamie and Dave swapping over on bass and drums, and Gaz’s tribute to four chord songs, Sex Not You, became a brilliant audience participation karaoke, featuring everything from Bon Jovi to James Blunt, pop to hip hop, and all points in between. There was not a dry eye in the house, mainly through laughter but, just possibly, with a touch of sadness too.
By Sunday I must have been getting the hang of this Shuffle thing, as I managed to get to the Beehive to catch Rob Beckinsale, Swindon’s answer to Loudan Wainwright, kick off the last day. Armed with a piano, guitar, voice, and a strange sense of humour, Rob is a legend and today he sported the dapper threads of a silent movie-star and, occasionally, the lyrics of a death metal band. There was even room for a touch of existentialism…well it was the Beehive, it would be rude not to. I bet it didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Ross Darby brought us back to more familiar territory, even though a slightly weary Richard Craven threw in a bit of confusion and introduced him as Dominic French! Proof, indeed, that listening to all of those Fall albums addles the brain. This is a singer who isn’t afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve and sing about people and feelings, which he does so with a rich and powerful voice. A songwriter of the old traditions, and a popular one at that.
If Swindon has a female super group, then it was the next act. Made up of the more attractive parts of Buswell, Attica Seasons and The Julia Set, Matilda specialise in serene and haunting music that moves between soulful soundscapes and wafts of neo-classical concord. Following on from this, The Julia Set take this vibe and move it in a more contemporary direction, but are no less heartfelt in the musical colours that they paint. After this gorgeous breathing space, much needed towards the end of this marathon celebration of local music, it was time to kick it up a notch with the Jon Trowbridge Band. This is an act that has really evolved over time, from a solo singer-pianist to a fully fledged rock band. Incorporating elements of pop, soul, funk, and creating exhilarating and danceable tunes, this is a band that I never tire of seeing. The songs are rich and snappy, and the musicianship and song writing nothing short of inspiring. A fantastic way to round off the afternoon, complete with a packed and appreciative audience to lap it up… and even a journalist from the Advertiser. Wonders will never cease! With one last leg to go, even after all of these hours spent doing the rounds, the novelty still hadn’t worn off.
Again, the powers that be looked down and smiled and the half-hour delay in the start of the Victoria meant that there was time for food. Nachos with cheese, in my case, and an unexpected side order of the worst ever joke in history from Shaun Buswell! Maybe he should stick to music. The Listening Device, their excessive numbers barely fitting on the stage, opened up the evening and played us through some wonderfully luscious progressive tunes. The Knott are one of those bands that I have been lucky enough to watch evolve from a quite middle-of-the-road pop rock act into something fairly special. They have managed to gain some fire and raw power to their music, but not at the expense of the harmony and melody that created their sound in the first place. They are, quite frankly, a classic example of how to use musical dynamics, as well as being a cracking live band. They also have a wonderful humour that always manages to rise to the surface between songs. Relatively new to me, The Dacoits have become firm favourites very quickly. Their songs seem to be unseen receptacles for dark, raw, often uncomfortable emotions, but never falling into the realm of the morose or self-pitying. Such is their musical dexterity that they are able to move between fragile, gossamer-like creations and full-blown punk-laced rock as they see fit. A great live performance and yet another appearance from the seemingly ubiquitous Emily Sykes. If I was the paranoid type, I would think that she was following me. I loved the song Loser Now when I first heard it on record but, hearing it live has me convinced that we should lobby the government to make it the national anthem. Too much? Okay, but it’s still a great song.
At this point a breather was in order. My timing wasn’t at its best though, as now ex-Durera front man, Gaz Brookfield, was playing a set of guilty pleasures to what looked like the Black Hole of Calcutta. A rest was not on the agenda but a brilliant acoustic set laced with humour and great sing-alongs was. Back downstairs, Matt “shhh” Kilford took the stage. This was someone that I was looking forward to seeing as, although I had seen him perform with Charlie Bath and Lighterthief, I had never managed to catch his own creations. To say that he did not disappoint was an understatement . Very minimal accompaniment to his wonderful voice, albeit to an annoying background chatter, opened the show, and gradually he was joined by other instruments enabling a set of gorgeous and heartfelt country balladry to issue forth. Certainly one to see again in a more suitable environment. Hip Route took this slightly Americana moment and carried on running with it. Even for people who are not big fans of acoustic blues, there is a lot to be enjoyed from this band. The music has a lovely upbeat and positive sense of itself, and just watching this three-piece perform is quite something.
If there was one band that I was looking forward to more than any other this weekend it was Lighterthief. Stuart Rowe’s, mainly studio project, doesn’t venture on to the stage that often, but when it does it, it is an unpredictable and wonderful work of art. The line-up is slightly different every time, as are the songs and even the arrangements. Good value for money in anyone’s book. The music is a strange brew of dark, trip-rock, swamp-blues and organic sounds, which combines consummate musicianship with an outstanding technical wizardry. By Stuart’s own admission it doesn’t always generate the expected results, but he may rest assured that tonight’s show definitely managed to tick all of the boxes. Around a core of bass, drums, guitar and laptop, other featured instruments came and went, including the vocal talents of Polly Strange (whose operatic majesty allowed a wonderful rendition of The Rite), Sam Bates, as well as the ever-popular Bozley. Having opened this musical door, leading slightly away from the guitar-based norm of the weekend , the final band of the night, and indeed the weekend, stepped through.
Beatbullyz are a hip-hop, soul act whose positive message and contagious music is capable of touching people emotionally, whilst causing them to turn into a whirling dervish and uncontrollably dance the night away. Quite predictably, this is exactly what happened. Although the wonderfully named DJ Philonius Funk was having a hard time of it, courtesy of technical problems and a temperamental table to work from, the band was a brilliant swan-song, and mirrored everything the Shuffle was about. Great tunes, optimism, a complete mix of people going wild to their music, one big party which anyone could be part of. Beatbullyz have the constant ability to mix up street soul, funk, hip hop and throw in a celebratory urban vibe and come out with brilliant songs. Golden City is one of those tracks that I have carried around in my head since first hearing it, but songs such as Rootz and Keyz of Life show that this isn’t just a one-off. An awesome headliner to round off a fantastic weekend and, as the last beats fade out into the night, another Shuffle is in the bag.
On a slightly sour side-note, I still find it a sad indictment on the times we live in that even such a creative celebration of local talent can sometimes be received with a measure of distain in some quarters. Sat in the Rolleston on the Saturday afternoon you could still see various elements walking past with the same old attitude of , “That place is full of weirdos, Goths and bikers, best give it a wide berth”. This being the same swathe of society that find it totally acceptable to head out to the bottom end of town, drink their own bodyweight in industrial-strength lager, put a bottle in head of some poor unsuspecting passer-by, throw up, and head off home to give the wife a good beating. Unfortunately, they are still seen as being a more acceptable part of the community than most of the people that were present at the Shuffle. Each to their own I guess, but I just hope I never end up in that acceptable community. Little chance, I hear you cry. Suits me.
So there we have it, another successful Shuffle and a big thanks to all concerned. Another weekend spent mixing with the most creative, talented, funny, joyous, intelligent, brave, ingenious, loyal and utterly demented people I have ever met. I will apologise for the length of the piece. It began as a review but moved through the essay stage and ended up somewhere between a dissertation and War and Peace. Still, with the amount of ground to cover, I’m sure that you understand. Also, apologies to the few bands that I didn’t get to see, but I think most people got a look in.
And one last thing…..roll on next year.
Comments (5)
What d'you call nachos that aren't yours?
Hah!
xx
seriously a good review Dave - gave a great feel of being there for anyone who didnt make the shuffle
It's "what do you call cheese that isn't yours??"
NACHO CHEESE!! (said in faux American accent)
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