SINEAD
O'CONNOR
Brighton
Dome, Wed 8th May
”Take
off your shoes – you're on hallowed ground”
Before
setting out for this gig, I read a
blog post by Andrew Hickey on Van Dyke Parks. It seemed
appropriate, for O'Connor is off on the very opposite tack to Parks'
polished erudition. Her confessional lyrics come out as if in a
stream-of-consciousness rush. (Take her recent single, 'The
Wolf Is Getting Married' an update on her life peppered by
conversational qualifiers such as “what I mean is...”)
Whether
they are written that way or she spends hours affecting that
artlessness, that's beside the point. It's song imitating speech,
giving things a feel of freshness, of directness and immediacy. It
works very well in a medium such as music which you listen to in real
time. It could work well live, I thought to myself...
In a
modern music industry so retro-inclined it seems driven in reverse
gear, it's good to see a set not only inclined towards recent tracks
but where they're often the ones which tend to stand out. Moreover,
for a singer renowned for transforming personal and political
troubles into material, it's significant how often she draws on her
recent “happier now” status - including the afore-mentioned
'Wolf.' It's perhaps harder to fix on the fuller
half of the glass without sounding trite or platitudinous, but she
seems to pull it off. Though perhaps thankfully they're not the
only type of new song, with 'Take Off
Your Shoes' and 'VIP' in particular
dwelling on darker things. You can only take so much positivity,
after all.
In her
dog-collar, crucifix and rock-star shades, she makes for a striking
if somewhat bizarre figure – more than living up to the tour's
monicker 'Crazy Baldhead.' Virtually her first act
is to dedicate the gig to Joan of Arc. Her celebrated voice is
breathier and huskier, less angelic than it was, but still intact.
Though she's fronting a six-piece band, the sound is more
stripped-back, more gospel-tinged than the often elaborate
arrangements of yore. It's closer to the John Lennon recipe for
songwriting: “You say what you mean and put a backbeat to it.”
When
the old tracks come up, this means they works better at times than at
others. 'Jackie' drew cheers when it started up,
but sounded a little flat-footed compared to the wild and elemental
original. Notably, she didn't attempt 'Troy', and
the less dramatic 'I Do Not Want What I Have Not Got'
was the most visited of her earlier albums. (Though I found myself
missing the choral hum that once saturated 'Nothing Compares
2U'.)
Perhaps
most memorable were the acapella tracks, with O'Connor singing her
heart out alone on stage, seemingly oblivious to us and holding us in
the palm of her hand. There were striking versions of 'Three
Babies' and particularly 'I Am Stretched on Your
Grave'. A similar treatment for a personal favourite,
'Black Boys On Mopeds', might have not only worked
well but felt appropriate so soon after Thatcher's timely demise. You
can't have everything...
Explaining
the final track will be built of long and heady stuff, she
momentarily breaks off. “Forgive me”, she asks us, “I'm Irish.”
That's
why we came, Sinead...
Speaking
of 'Stretched On Your Grave'...
CHRIS
WOOD
The
Basement, Brighton, Sun 23rd May
”Well
I've no use for riches
And
I've no use for power
And
I've no use for a broken heart
I'll
let this world go by.”
I
first saw folk songwriter Chris Wood some five years ago, playing
support to the Imagined Village night. With him addressing
the sizeable Brighton Dome armed only with an acoustic guitar, and
with the main act's multi-media screens, endless guest stars and
array of updating devices he seemed very much plain speaking yang to
it's whizz-bang yin.
Here
the odds have been a little more evened. While the venue this time is
smaller, he's expanded to include a double bassist and keyboardist.
But, as if to keep alive that distinction in our minds, he starts his
set with a number from that night - 'John Barleycorn Must
Die.' The key line from the Imagined Village version became
“they hired men”; with each iteration, you pictured further
hordes pouring over the horizon bearing ever-more worrisome
agricultural implements. With Woods' version he recites the lyrics
understatedely, in low register, the other players only slowly coming
in to join him. The first struck out at you, the second draws you
into it's orbit.
It's
indicative, for Wood's particular magic is to convince you that you
haven't come out to a gig at all. It feels more like he's turned up
at your home to try out a few numbers on you, while politely
enquiring if there might be such a thing as beer in the fridge. He
enthuses that even the night's promoter has an allotment, fondly
imagining clay under her fingernails. (“Chalk!” correct the
audience as one.)
Remember
that risible speech Ian Duncan Smith once made to the Tory conference
- “do not underestimate the determination of a quiet man”? Chris
Wood is that quiet man which Duncan Smith was pretending to be. He'd
disappear in a crowd of two. Particularly if the other guy was Phil
Jupitus.
There's
political songs aplenty, but with none of the hectoring stridency
some associate with that term. He plays the title track from his new
release, 'None The Wiser,' which pretty much does
what it says on the lid. He's added his own backing to Blake's
'Jerusalem', after feeling Parry's thundering
version played down the poem's questioning quality. And there's
humour too, including an observational piece about mid-life crises.
Perhaps
some of the more domestic songs were too homespun,
and could verge on the twee (such as 'My Darling's
Downsized.') But then as he says, “they're all love
songs really.”
And
the keyboards... they certainly fitted certain tracks, and when
required to do no more confined themselves to a supportive wash. But
my heart beat more keenly whenever the instrumentation went down to a
guitar and double bass. Even quite sparse accompaniment can seem like
bells and whistles where Chris Wood's concerned, and less is normally
more.
But
overall... do not underestimate the determination of a quiet man.
Not
from Brighton, but the same tour - his re-scored 'Jerusalem'
from a soundcheck in Cambridge. The person in the YouTube comments
asking what the words are, are they trying to be ironic or is there
really no hope for the human race?
CAMPER
VAN BEETHOVEN
The
Haunt, Brighton, Thur 30th May
”And
we are rotting like a fruit
Underneath
a rusting roof
We
dream our dreams and sing our songs
Of
the fecundity
Of
life and love”
Pity
us poor amateur reviewers. For what made this such a memorable gig is
simultaneously what makes it difficult to write about. Though pretty
much everything on offer stuck to song structure, the style of those
songs varied so widely it wasn't like watching one band at all. A reliable
source of gossip states “their
eclectic and ever-evolving style mixes elements of pop, ska,
punk rock, folk, alternative country, and
various types of world music.” I don't think they did
anything in the form of early baroque or grindcore, but I suppose I
may have missed something. As a rough-and-ready comparison, the
nearest I can manage is the Broken Family Band.
And
every now and again they'd throw in something in the style I knew
them for - the perky powerpop of their early years, such as the
single 'Take The Skinheads Bowling.' With it's
deadpan absurdist lyrics, purposefully written to sidestep making any
kind of sense whatsoever, it seemed so unlike our image of
straightfaced America it made them seem almost Anglophile. (Notably
they also cover 'Pictures of Matchstick Men.')
Yet
perhaps the most prevalent style on the night was the one which
seemed to embrace their California home. They'd take on that languid
late-in-the-afternoon pace, to the point where you felt were you to
drop something it would take longer to leave your hand than before
they came on. At times, it all became too
laid-back for me. (A song about North California Girls which sounded
way too much like you'd expect such a song to.)
But other tracks were so steeped in melcancholia you were no longer
sure whether they tasted bitter or sweet; dropping the Sunny Delight
and biting into the citrus fruits of the musical world.
Such
songs sung about the out-of-reach just because it's inaccessible by
any other means, dreaming of some escape while acknowledging in the
very same breath your only ever relationship to it will lie in your
imagining it. They're not written under any pretense they'll change
the world along with their chords, but as acts of self-commiseration.
As they sing in 'All Her Favourite Fruit': “all
the most exotic places, they are cultivated.”
And
yet they're not quite as multi-faceted as they look. Even when they
indulge in the Americana, something of the deadpan humour stays with
them. This is something echoed in the very look of
them. Only the goateed fiddle player Jonathan Segel passes for
someone in any kind of band, the rest seem to have showed up in their
best smart/casual gear for some West Coast management conference.
Frontman David Lowery even bravely sports the jacket/tie/jeans combo,
the internationally agreed uniform of the clueless middle-aged
American. This being the post-ironic era, I was genuinely unsure
whether this was a deliberate act or not. YouTube footage confirms he
valiantly kept the look up nightly. Whichever way, its fitting.
I
later discover their career to include a track-by-track cover of
Fleetwood Mac's double album 'Tusk' and a rock opera
about a civil war between a Texan religious-right militia and
Californian surfer dudes, with added aliens. I mean, you
can't go wrong really, can you? Plus they come up with cool artwork,
see the tour poster above.
From
London the night before, two tracks which should demonstrate the
band's eclecticism, the afore-mentioned 'Her Favourite
Fruit' followed by 'Long Plastic Hallway'.
I may even like this version of the first track better than the
recorded version, as it has that necessary hazy, out-of-focus
quality...
..while,
just to prove they were in Brighton...
Coming
soon: The above does not signify, alas, that Mr Slow Coach
here has finally caught up with stuff from May...
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