One Tuesday evening at the end of last month I found myself going along to the Scala at King’s Cross to listen to punk rock band Half Japanese supported by The Lovely Eggs and Let’s Wrestle mainly because the name I have given to my illustrating activity is Slowly The Eggs – as good a reason to go to a gig as any other, right?

The Lovely Eggs by Maria Papadimitriou aka Slowly The Eggs.

I have not managed to discover why the band The Lovely Eggs – a husband and wife indie rock band from Lancaster – think that eggs are lovely or think of themselves as eggs who also happen to be lovely, but I can tell you the reasons why I chose Slowly The Eggs as my aka title.

Half Japanese ‘Red Dress’ by Maria Papadimitriou aka Slowly The Eggs.

Slowly The Eggs is what my native Greeks would say when faced with a slightly sticky situation perhaps in an effort to put things in perspective – it loosely means ‘relax’ – undeniably a useful, philosophical catchphrase to keep in your pocket and use as widely as possible. Admittedly I also chose the phrase due to a little obsession with eggs – my Fine Art degree show featured a section within an installation filled with dyed red eggs which I stepped onto and broke during a performance; it felt good, but do not ask me what it meant – and the fact eggs seem to have a cosmic significance and an infinite potential, they are a beginning. And then of course there is the fascinating debate concerning the chicken and the egg.

The Lovely Eggs by Maria Papadimitriou aka Slowly The Eggs.

I was pleasantly surprised to find, however, that The Lovely Eggs did not only share with me a soft spot for eggs but also one for the general use of food in their art – they sang about it, they chatted and joked about it in between songs, and I love to use food in my collages. In fact, it turned out that The Lovely Eggs were my favourite of the three bands that played, with Let’s Wrestle unfortunately leaving no significant trace in my memory other than a numb feeling of dislike and Half Japanese humorously adding with some of their lyrics to the food related imagery conveyed through the evening – one of their songs I enjoyed most was titled Cherry Pie. Here are a few illustrations inspired by the evening and some of the words in the songs.

Half Japanese ‘Cherry P-eye’ by Maria Papadimitriou aka Slowly The Eggs.

My boyfriend, Charlie started showing me ‘A Folk Song A Day’ a while back. There is one where two men, Jon Boden and John Spiers, frontmen of Bellowhead, sit under a tree, in an (enchanted) forest and sing a nice traditional sounding number. This is the one Charlie particularly loves, it holds the words ‘spotted pig’ within it. Most of the songs come with a healthy dollop of ‘English’ cheek, hence spotted pig.

Just like Bellowhead’s songs, which tend to chat vigorously about strange animals, wizardry and prostitution. But they’re all done with a little glint in the eye and an elbow nudge. ‘English’ cheek makes these things Ok, I reckon. It also makes it all very amusing and you feel yourself holding back an ‘hoooo arrrgh’ as they announce the next song’s topic and sing about ‘whores’. Maybe the ‘hoooo arrrgh’ is because I am watching the band in the West Country and I’ve finally lost my South Eastern ways and become western in spirit. So lovable, they are… and darn! It just seems so quintessentially English to sing like this! *In the depths of dirty 18th century London, a pub glows orangey red, and bursts music from its heart- beers spills from tankards and bosoms heave.*

Bellowhead illustration by Cat Palairet

Of course London and Brighton still love a ho-down. But I have to say it is the county of Cornwall, that Bellowhead reminds me of the most. Cornwall still retains that mystical charm, where the fairies hang out dressed in corsets and the boys wear waistcoats. It is where you will find wooden floor stomping and ‘proper’ local pubs bursting with dancing and singing – natural coloured, ethereally moving fabrics flaying about. Although some Cornish say they are not English, it feels like it is they who hold onto my own nostalgic vision of England hundreds of years ago. And it is true that most music nights in Kernow’s pubs and bars centre around acoustic music and folk struts. You would certainly be hard pushed to find any minimal or electro going on down there.

BUT I digress! We are in Bristol tonight and although I may think i’m entering a pub called Jacob’s Ladder in Falmouth, Cornwall, I am actually in The Bristol Old Vic. Charlie is made up because he is seeing his spotted pig superstars and due to last minute actions, i’ve just had to squash past a row of people to get to my red velvet (?) seat in the middle of the seating line. There are eleven instruments on stage, which the eleven band members begin to attach themselves to. Most of the instruments look enormous. One of them, has to be worn, which makes it look like it is engulfing its player with its own gigantic structure. Like a fish with a massive head.

They start. And it’s like being dunked in ocean water, blasted with air and then bounced up and down. Before you know it, you’re bouncing up and down because you can’t help doing it. Then you’re clapping. Then you’re standing up, and dancing, and clapping. Because you literally can not help it. Bellowhead have injected you and the whole audience with some sort of extreme happiness on a November night. How very talented.

When looking at the audience, I wouldn’t call it a ‘young person’ – as my Granny would label it – night. However there is a very broad demographic of people in attendance. Which lays testament to their talent. They are able to cross the divisions and bring people together with a related inner excitement. Initially I had thought the lady sat next to me appeared very reserved when I apologetically sank into my seat. But she really went for it, and I mean went for it. I had to tell myself to loosen up a bit, I was so impressed with her enthusiasm.

Bellowhead are so very confident on stage too. Jon Boden leads them on their whizz around their elation inducing music, and they all respect and work together so well. It’s great to see the purposeful movements, belief in performance and joy from being there. Enjoying the riotous music making, Boden continuously raises up his arms, embracing, welcoming and encouraging the spirited feelings. Everyone dances around on stage and I feel like i’m watching a vibrant musical.

This stage presence and professional style now transports them from Cornwall to the Moulin Rouge! Now, Boden is standing on top of the windmill as he sings, and all the players are on a platform in the sky. It’s all loaded with humour and full of energy as I realise that these guys are actually epic.

Jon Spiers illustration by Abby Wright

I begin to wish there had been no seats and we could have pranced around and stamped our feet from the start. However, of course although Bellowhead are about the dancing, they are also about the performance. Huge accolades have been bestowed upon this mega-folk band. They have won the BBC award for Best Live Folk Act four times, with The Independent stating: ‘With the exception of The Who, Bellowhead are surely the best live act in the country.’ Indeed. With 11 hugely talented musicians on stage, I didn’t want to miss a thing.

Before I sign off, going back to A Folk Song A Day, Boden says: “The main idea behind A Folk Song A Day. com is to try and do my bit for raising the profile of unaccompanied social singing. Most of the songs on the site are songs that I have sung for years but rarely on stage and never on albums – songs that I have learnt because I wanted to be able to sing them in a pub.” I’ll tell you this, their album is nothing compared to a live performance by Bellowhead. You WILL want to start singing in pubs and you WILL be singing all the way home.

Details of their tour can be found here

5. Mumford & Sons
Mumford & Sons have had a special piece in my heart for a couple of years now. Having played their debut to death and enjoyed their live shows just as much, the band never fail to disappoint. When they arrived at the NME/Radio 1 Tent they packed out the space and the surrounding areas had hundreds of fans trying to capture the performance.

Despite not being able to see the band or even hear them over the crowd singing along, I still had hairs on my neck shooting up. I felt quite proud of the most modest band around who could not have put more effort in. They were made for moments like this. ‘Little Lion Man’ had never sounded so perfect and the new songs were greeted with the same enthusiasm from the crowd.

Weezer illustration by Natsuki Otani

4. Weezer
Sunday evening, there was a chill in the air, ‘nu metal’ pioneers Limp Bizit had been and gone, the heavy rain had done the same. American geek rockers Weezer brought the sun to the main-stage along with a greatest hits set. They are a band I would never choose the listen to but I wouldn’t turn them off either.

Along with the classics, ‘Buddy Holly’, ‘Hash Pipe’ and ‘Beverly Hills’ the old timers covered Wheatus’ ‘Teenage Dirtbag’, MGMT’s ‘Kids’ and Lady GaGa’s ‘Pokerface’ where energetic front-man Rivers Cuomo sported a blonde wig whilst rolling about in the mud.

Mystery Jets illustration by Antonia Makes

3. Mystery Jets
Mystery Jets have been knocking about for sometime now with a collection of pop songs that would give Simon Cowell’s song-writing team a fright. Today wasn’t just about the hits, it was to see if the band could work main-stage after a few appearances on the smaller ones previously.

Not only did they get some sing-a-longs from the crowd but also got them dancing when Count & Sinden joined the band to play the party tune of the year, ‘After Dark’. It wasn’t just the stage that the band controlled as the lively band members spent a decent about of time amongst the crowd too.

The Libertines illustrated by Abi Daker

2. The Libertines
2002, the NME. Radio 1 Tent saw Peter Doherty, Carl Barat, John Hassall and Gary Powell play their only Reading Festival together. Since then The Libertines have performed twice without Peter, and since the group disbanded six years ago they have all appeared under different guises.

The main-stage witnessed the band play just their forth gig since their recent reformation. It was professional and energetic. I don’t think I have ever seen the band play that well; they meant business. Talk was kept to a minimum whilst thrashing out tune after tune, they were unfazed when they had to have a quick break whilst the crowd calmed down. A tear was shed when Pete and Carl, hugged and kissed onstage, I had been waiting too long for that moment.

Libertines illustration by Miss Pearl Grey aka Kellie B.

Arcade Fire, illustration by Jenny Robins.

1. Arcade Fire
It was Arcade Fire’s last Reading Festival performance that really won me over. Win Butler lead the seven piece on a emphatic set that included songs from all three records but it was the material from their latest, The Suburbs that really had the wow factor. Words struggle to some up this performance, it was more than just music, more like a religion.

Many thanks to our illustrators. Thumbnail illustration of Weezer by Julie Lee

As I arrive at The Hundred in the Hands soundcheck, the floor of the upstairs room of the Old Blue Last is littered with an array of guitars, wires, and keyboards with cases of all shapes and sizes to match. On stage the Brooklyn two-piece seem to glide between their stations, calmly, almost nonchalantly, warming their instruments up and coiling endless lengths of cable around the compact space the Old Blue has to offer. Eleanor, Jason and the beat master extraordinaire (Mr Apple Mac laptop) whir into action for another slot on their summer tour, their appearance in London followed by a much anticipated debut at Latitude and Festival de-Affaire in the Netherlands. Even within the empty room my feet can’t help tapping as The Hundred in the Hands fine tune their breed of electro; sugar spun candy pop sprinkles on a thick, fuzzy electric whirlwind that you can’t help but get lost in.

Once the soundcheck is put to bed, Eleanor and Jason are kind enough to spare me a few minutes for a chat in the luxurious surroundings the Old Blue Last does so well- peeling wallpaper, endless sirens and multipacks of Hula Hoops. But the charming pair seem unfazed by the rush around them, the capital is now like a ‘second home’ to them as this venture brings their UK visits up to four, although Eleanor insists they ‘still don’t know how to get around, nearly getting run over because the cars are going the wrong way.’

As a pair they seem in sync, each listens to the other, feeds off their ideas, never overrunning each other’s sentences. For creators of such urgent and, at times, epic music, there is a calm patience about each of them. Their musical exploration references many shades of genres through history, although their own musical education began with the good old bastion of classic American music: the radio. For Jason it was the ‘golden oldies on the stations, Motown and stuff like that’, a passion shared by Eleanor: ‘Because it was on the radio it wasn’t really a conscious choice, it just drifted into your life. And I listened to a lot of brooding, moody music in the 90’s, of course, as everyone should. But I think when I came back around to pop music and pop forms I realised I did have that in my background, but it was all the golden oldies, the girl group sounds.’

The pop power behind The Hundred in the Hands is undeniable, intentional even, with the band working with four different producers including pop mastermind Richard X and LCD Soundsystem’s aural curator, Eric Broucek. ‘We chose songs that would compliment producers’, Jason explains. ‘They didn’t necessarily shape the idea of the song, but just help it go the extra distance. To tap into the knowledge and ability like that is amazing.’ For Eleanor the assistance of four varying second opinions ‘adds a rush of energy and settle the arguments,’ although few producers would complain about taking on the task of laying Eleanor’s sweet, crystal cut voice over the record. She might be the only girl of the group, but an unmistakable femininity resonates within the melodies, a throwback to their radio listening days.

Their upcoming album is due for release in September and was even originally conceived to be a hip hop album, a nod to their mutual dedication to decades of the genre (although after 1992 it does get a bit wobbly), but the follow up to the pair’s EP ‘Dressed in Dresden’ flirts more readily with a sense of catchy hooks and itchy basslines. With 70 to 80% of the tracks home recorded at some point along the way, The Hundred in the Hands are undoubtedly keeping a lo-fi arthouse panache to their sound, but a heavy touring schedule means the chance to write new songs has got to find its own time amongst the shows.

This is where Mr Apple Mac apparently comes in most handy, not only for spending hours geeking out on dub and hip hop inspirations, but for moulding the biology of The Hundred in the Hands’s sounds. ‘Beats seem to grow; we write as we’re recording and we can’t play it until we record it so it’s always changing. After shows, in between shows, on the way to the next show, we can get the laptop open and work. The difficulty is trying to make the beats feel like they’re happening now.’ Jason’s passion for melding the experience of pre-recording and live performance is evident and is something the pair have perfected for their touring schedule. The frequent appearance of Steve Job’s silvery, shiny plug-in babies on stages across the world has exploded in the past few years, but whilst DJs have benefited endlessly from software programmes that turn the bedroom into the studio, some bands have failed to translate this process into a tangible and exciting live performance. No doubt familiar with this problem, Eleanor explains how the band have moderated their sound: ‘We’ve designed things so with the year of touring we’ve got coming up we have eight different channels of sound coming from the back track, so we’re trying to make it adaptable to a more full on spectrum. Not dance music, but something full on.’

What better place to test the theory than the jammed Old Blue Last. By 10pm the air seems sticky with all the bodies and plastic cups of beer. Jason said he hoped people would ‘get sweaty’ tonight and I do not think he will be disappointed. Opener Tom Tom tip taps through your head and feet but pop the vibration intricacies that make the record such a stunner are somewhat lost in the air. As the songs are reeled out the energy onstage fizzles between Jason’s stopstart juts and stomps on the guitar, and Eleanor’s vocal emerge from her diminutive frame and dishevelled, parted hair. A panicked elegance emerges from each song and new material marks itself out from the darker edge of Dressed in Dresden. A disco electro undercurrent darts from the speakers and limbs start to get looser amongst the audience. The final word must, of course, come from the Man of the Masses, the Voice of the People, or the Man in Front of Me Using Blackberry… “the band is fuckin amazin!”

All photographs by Sabrina Morrison

For anyone who doesn’t know, The Big Chill Festival is located at Eastnor Castle Deer Park in Herefordshire, surrounded by beautiful peaks and greenery. Being near the Welsh border means the weather can be a tad erratic. However, aside from the odd brief (but powerful) downpour the weather was pleasant and sunny by Sunday (which I’m sure came as a relief to the nude participants of Spencer Tunick’s art piece on Sunday morning.)

A first glance at the festival map gave the impression that The Big Chill would be anything but! I realised that unless I made a mental list of what I’d like to see, I’d end up in the Cinema tent all weekend (City of God, Ponyo, Moon, Eagle vs Shark, the list was huge and impressive!)

Out of fear I chose a location at random and began my Big Chill experience at 10.00am with the press event for Bompas and Parr’s Ziggurat of Flavour. My press pack told me that Bompas and Parr are ‘Food Architects’, and the Ziggurat turned out to be what was essentially a large pyramid with an inside maze and an exit via a rather steep slide. Entrants who went through the maze would inhale atomised Fairtrade fruit juice, freshly squeezed on site (I saw one man unsuccessfully trying to pay the juicers for a cup of orange juice). Inhalation, apparently, would give you at least one of your five a day. Now whether this is scientifically proven or not I don’t know, but a slide is a slide and it is always going to be a crowd pleaser. If, by some miracle, you manage to ingest an orange via your lungs then that’s an added bonus. The Ziggurat proved immensely popular for the entire weekend and it was good to see Fairtrade’s presence on site.

My first musical highlight was seeing Mike Patton of Faith No More fame singing Italian Pop Songs from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s with his new and unusual vehicle: Mike Patton’s Mondo Cane & The Heritage Orchestra. Going through all my bootleg copies of live Mr Bungle performances I notice there is one track that doesn’t feature on the studio albums but becomes increasingly popular as part of the live setlist. It is a very lively cover of Adriano Celentano’s ‘24,000 Baci’ sung in Italian by singer Mike Patton. This cover may be evidence that Patton had this project in mind from as early as the mid 90’s. Having missed Mike Patton with Faith No More last year I was eager to see this unusual performance. I’ve been a fan of a lot of Patton’s recent outfits, however, the more avant-garde his music has become, the less coherent his singing has become. This is a shame considering the vocal range at his disposal, so to hear him within the constraints of Italian classics, backed by a 40 piece orchestra, choir and electronic sounds, was a real high-point.

Chrome Hoof by Sophie Parker

But sometimes its the acts you don’t know that blow you away and on Saturday that’s just what happened. When Chrome Hoof arrived on The Deer Park Stage at 2:45pm, I was immediately swept away by the singers consistently electrifying performance. Actually, scratch that, the entire bands consistently electrifying performance. They sounded like a bizarre breed of electro-funk and dressed with a retro sci-fi Parliament aesthetic. As the first act on The Deer Park Stage on Saturday I couldn’t understand why they weren’t higher up the billing. It certainly gave all the proceeding acts a lot to live up to (and made Lily Allen’s Sunday night performance all the more lackluster by contrast).

Abigail Brown birds by Sophie Parker

The workshops were something I had been really looking forward to, particularly Selvedge Magazine’s collaboration with Abigail Brown to produce the Make a Bird workshop. This was Selvedge’s first foray into festivals and I was interested to see if the magazine could extend its visual approach into the workshop format. Their endeavor certainly paid off and the tent was packed from open till close each day. The material for the birds was a colourful mish-mash of fabric and snippets supplied by well known fabric designers such as Cath Kidston and Sanderson. As an added bonus, the staff of Selvedge and the lovely Abigail Brown were lending a hand for the duration. The result was a beautiful flock of hand-made birds strung from ribbons on a nearby tree which flitted and spun in the breeze (how tempted I was to take one!). Selvedge proved they are a dab hand at creating events that are festival compatible and I look forward to seeing more of their engaging ideas soon.

Patrick Wolf by Sophie Parker

Another great visual performance came from Patrick Wolf. The first time I saw him was at Latitude ‘07 from the very back of The Word arena. I knew I wanted to hear more and several albums later I saw him again in Shepherds Bush giving a farewell concert (do musicians in their 20’s really need to say farewell?) before locking himself up in Hackney to compose new material. A couple of years later and he’s back and high up the billing. His performance was just how I remembered it and both new and old material sounded tight. Something I have always enjoyed about Wolf’s performance is his energy and theatrical body language on stage and he didn’t disappoint. First song in and he was already sitting on the edge of the stage driving the nearby crowd wild. All that seemed missing was a good light show to enhance the mood, however as is the way with the open air stages, the light shows are pretty much reserved to the headliners.

I had made a conscious decision to avoid the film tents because I knew that if I sat to watch one then I’d sit and watch them all. However, when a matador approached me and gave me a flyer for Bunny and the Bull at the Dereliction Drive-In (21:30, open-air, sitting either on the floor or on old car seats) I felt I might as well check it out. I had already recently seen it once and it hadn’t really grabbed me. Not that it was a bad film, the sets were inventive, the actors were spot on, but it just didn’t work for me. However, when I heard that the band who recorded the soundtrack would be performing the entire score live, I felt it would be at least worth watching the first 10 minutes. On arrival it turned out to be a lot more than a live soundtrack, the entire film was interspersed with fun games based on sections of the film, including a crab (stick) eating contest with one of the lead actors: Simon Farnaby (that conker-headed bloke from the Charlie episode of The Mighty Boosh). I ended up staying for the majority, it was an amazing reworking of the film that, combined with cider, made all the film’s jokes ten times as funny.

Sunday was an early start for me. The arena was closed to all but press and off I headed at 8.30am for the set up of Spencer Tunick’s new photograph comprised entirely of nude festival goers painted luminous shades of yellow, blue, black, and red. The press were kept at a respectful distance (not that it made any difference thanks to telephoto lenses) and Tunick was positioned on a cherry-picker above his nude minions giving orders via a megaphone. The general feeling was weirdly positive, aided by Tunick’s friendly directions that kept his models in good spirits (considering he hadn’t had to pay anyone a modelling fee he was probably ecstatic!) Once the shots had been taken and the models disbanded it was surprising just how many did not put their clothes back on immediately, even coming up close to us in the press pit for a quick snap. Funnier still was the amount of people who didn’t wash off their body paint for the remainder of the festival, leading to some groups looking like background characters from The Simpsons. The rest of Sunday was pretty relaxed with good performances from both Magic Numbers and Newton Faulkner, who filled the stage with his charming personality and humour.

There are countless other little distractions that made up my festival experience and that’s the great thing about The Big Chill- each area is its own little world with its own brand of unique magic. Needless to say I had an amazing time and, providing the maximum occupancy doesn’t swell to epic proportions, I’d be happy to go again and again.

Peggy Sue have been around in various incarnations – previously accompanied by the Pirates – for sometime. So already engrained in the indie consciousness as they are, it comes as a real surprise to discover that their first long player has only just come out. A true band of our internet led times.

Released at the end of April on Wichita Recordings, Fossils and Other Phantoms therefore finds the work of an already mature band with a strongly identifiable sound of their own. A combination of indie and folk with a strong streak of the blues and even doo-wop, husky vocalists Katy Klaw and Rosa Rex take turns to lead the tunes against a firm rhythmic backbone courtesy of drummer Olly Joyce, who comes crashing in halfway into opening track Long Division Blues after a slowly spiralling build up. His presence is never far away, even when the girls resort to the glorious simplicity of a simple guitar, kazoo or uke to back their playfully tumbling harmonies – I Read It In The Paper, Green Grow The Rushes and The Shape We Made soon grow into bigger songs with the addition of percussion.

Single Watchman is a tuneful favourite that is accompanied by a gorgeously surreal animated video by Betsy Dadd. Soulful lyrics sound heavily influenced by complicated love lives (though I discovered this is not quite the case when I interviewed the band) and render this album the perfect heartbreak sound track, but the point when you most definitely feel it’s time to pick yourself up and stand proudly independent again. Yo Mama sees them stand defiant “I’m gonna go downtown and find myself someone,” they assure us.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The album was launched with a free gig at Rough Trade East, which also happened to fall on Katy’s birthday. Accompanied by extra violin and cello “the one who bought me the cake is my favourite out of our string section” the trio powered through an energetic set in front of a clearly adoring though somewhat coy crowd. Despite problems with feedback and tuning “normally we tune up properly before a gig but we drank beer instead cos it’s my birthday” it was a great showcase for these talented and very individual multi-instrumentalists.

Illustration of the Peggy Sue string section by Antonia Parker.

Read my in-depth interview with Peggy Sue here.

Yeasayer kicked off their show at the very hot and sweaty Heaven with ‘Odd Blood’’s opener track “The Children”. This seemed like a bit of an odd choice to start with, considering that it’s the least poppy track of an album that’s an homage to beautifully executed pop. It also seemed like the audience were decidedly underwhelmed to begin with, and weren’t really sure what to do with a less well known song. In fact I’m sure half of them were there only for the purposes of hearing “Ambling Alp” and going home.

In a strange way the sinister distorted vocals of “The Children” set the scene for them to launch into the more upbeat songs from ‘Odd Blood’, and things only improved from there on out. Their set was heavily focused on newer songs, and high points of the night included “Strange Reunions”, “Mondegreen”, “Love Me Girl”, “Ambling Alp”, “I Remember” and “ONE”. By the time they had got to “ONE” the crowd seemed to know what was going on, and had generated some enthusiasm for them at last. To help matters, Yeasayer were accompanied on stage by some trippy flashing light-boxes, which resonated pretty much perfectly with their own somewhat trippy hippy sound.

Photo courtesy of Rachel Lipsitz

I was a little concerned, having listened to ‘Odd Blood’ so much, that the live vocals would be a let down. The singing on the album sounds, at times, as if it’s ventured into the dreaded realm of autotune. However what I discovered is that in amongst all the weird noises and bird calls, there are actually three very talented singers playing off each other. Keating, Tuton and Wilder are practically seamless in their live performance. All of them have a capacity to sing far above the pitch of most normal human men, but it works for them, and it’s actually pretty impressive to witness. Keating really stole the show though. He managed to maintain what might normally be a comical level of Bee Gee-esque crooning without his voice breaking, cracking or dropping notes. In addition to the man being an amazing singer, he was inventive with his voice, throwing in snarls, shouts, and all kinds of bizarre vocal noises which he still managed to blend into the song. Not only that but for a skinny white boy in a suit, he had some some serious rhythm, and could have definitely taught the lacklustre crowd how to throw a shape or two.

The sound of ‘Odd Blood’ was replicated in the best way possible. The tracks obviously didn’t sound identical to the album, and they weren’t always easy to identify at the start, but hearing it live made it far easier to appreciate each individual musician’s contribution. It’s fair to say that the few older songs Yeasayer played sounded smoother to the ear, especially when set aside ‘Odd Blood’’s more choppy sound. They also seemed to generate more enthusiasm from the onlookers as well. When they came back for their encore and played Sunrise, it was probably the best song of the night. Although I love ‘Odd Blood’’s pop credentials, Sunrise has a sound all unto itself.

The charm of Yeasayer is how many bits there are to it. They’re not content with the standard instruments, they have to throw in extra singers, extra sound effects, and bizarre noises that I don’t even know how to begin to identify. Having heard much of Odd Blood live, all I wanted to do was go home and listen to it again, and that to me seems like the best indication of a night well spent.

Man Like Me headlined a Mean Fiddler gig at the Garage in Highbury Islington on Thursday last week. (I’m sorry but I can’t bring myself to call this venue by it’s new spangly sponsored name…. R. R. R. no I can’t. Sorry. It’s a grim energy drink, that’s all I’m gonna say.) I like Man Like Me – hence their appearance in issue 09 of Amelia’s Magazine, and their contribution to my Positive Futures USB compilation – so I went along to check them out.

Johnny Langer, singer

Arriving fresh from singing Schubert with my hands over my ears at my weekly singing lesson (apparently I have a very musical ear which means I am constantly overanalysing and adjusting the tone of my voice, fact fans) I immediately ran into someone I knew at the head of the long line snaking out of the club – I’d totally forgotten that my friend Dan is now part of Man Like Me, so some friends had come down to check him out. I’d sort of arranged to chat with singer Johnny Langer before the gig but this proved fairly impossible in the cramped dressing room which I’d say is designed for four people at a push. Man Like Me are now a ten strong live band. Go figure. Glamourous new female singer Jessie recognised me instantly, remembering that she met me through a mutual friend. Blimey it’s a small world. Looking very fabulous in a short sequinned dress, she was debating what size flower she should wear in her hair. Large, we all agreed. Large suits Man Like Me.

Jessie, singer with Man Like Me

It’s been awhile since I hung out backstage and I had quite forgotten the mania of a young band before a large gig. Amid the vodka tonic jollity they posed against the beautifully beige walls, Johnny musing over how much he enjoyed creating the tune, Oi John What’s Going On, which appeared on my Positive Futures compilation; a song that wasn’t fixated on love or getting twatted, as most of his creations tend to be. One new recruit to the band is Johnny’s dad, himself a record producer. I asked how long he’s been playing with his son. “I’ve been playing with him since he was a baby!” We chortled at how wrong this could very easily sound.

Dan, I like your glasses

My friend Dan joined the Man Like Me circus last year, bringing along his three piece brass section the JJ Horns, and embarking immediately on a seminal trip to Corsica, playground of rich Parisians. From there the next gig they went to was in glamourous Hitchin in Hertfordshire, something of which Dan is particularly proud. Donning suits and dark glasses the JJ Horns are a dapper foil to Johnny’s charity shop aesthetic.

Dan and the JJ Horns

With the band fully psyched to go I headed out into an audience of particularly young looking creatures, whereupon my friend Anna introduced me to her 14 year old nephew (she has 8 nieces and nephews, I am SO JEALOUS. I am not even an auntie yet!) It turns out that this was officially an underage gig and popping back to the bar I chuckled at the changing demographic. Youth, looking suspiciously drunk on sneaked in booze, getting sweaty up front; oldies (music industry and proud parents) loitering with clutched beers near the back.

Bulked up with layer upon layer of clothing, Johnny arrived on stage hidden behind a clutch of Lidls bags before heading straight into a typically lively Man Like Me set. To the delight of the female fans he proceeded to strip off slowly, from trenchcoat to silly jumper to t-shirt saying Deaf School to bare naked slim chest – leaving a pair of boxers and large deerstalker hat for last, stood astride a ladder, proclaiming to the audience. Such was the excitement that within seconds some irritating wench had clambered onto a pair of shoulders and was blocking our view of Johnny. Perhaps unsurprisingly this same lass was then responsible for a stage invasion of one during the final song. What a yawnsome cliche this has become.

Johnny has a delicate feral beauty that can easily command the attention of a large crowd. As a seer of contemporary life he sings of what he knows best: London Town, being a Single Dad (he really is, with a daughter just 3 years old), of Gucci and doughnuts, falafel and crap TV. Things we can surely all relate to (or hope to escape, if you’re a young lad and don’t quite fancy being a father yet) all imparted with a good dose of humour (just check out their videos for a sense of where they’re at) and a jaunty sing-along tune. The presence of the JJ Horns has brought a fatter dimension to their sound, with Dan happily bouncing along to the choreographed dance moves “I learnt them in a night” and Jessie providing an admirable foil to Johnny’s bouncy stage persona.

I last saw Man Like Me at Secret Garden Party a few years ago and I had forgotten how much fun they are live, with a good cache of tunes that move along at a cracking speed. The sweaty audience was clearly in agreement; they obviously have a sturdy fanbase who are looking forward to the release of a new album as much as I am.

I could say that Laura J Martin is as ethereal and otherworldly as Bat For Lashes, and I could tell you that her haunting musical tales reminds me of listening to a young Kate Bush, and if I really wanted to, I could say that her ability to take a pastoral folk sound and twist an electro beat around it puts me in mind of the great Alison Goldfrapp. Like I said, I could say all of that, but that would be thinking inside the box, and I’m going to take my cue from Laura, who has probably never thought inside the box a day in her life. Instead I am going to say that she reminds me of a hummingbird. Watching her on stage, wielding her flute with the swiftness and precision of a warrior using a samurai sword, you can’t quite believe that something so light and delicate can beat its wings so fast. But she does, and we can only stand in awe.

Described by the people behind The Big Chill (who obviously know what they’re talking about) as “the world’s finest flute wielding, piano playing, mandolin toting singer-songwriter”, Laura goes one step further and offers up this description of her sound and style; “think folkie weirdie beardie (without the beardie) funki (with an ‘i’) mixed in a cauldron with some jazzy slurp + niceness squared = me.” Well put. Now, when I first saw her play, I knew nothing about Laura and I will take this opportunity to shamefully confess that I quickly summed up this adorable pixie in front of me with her flute and her mandolin and thought, “Oh OK, it’s going to be a bit folky.” (Not, I hasten to add, that there is anything wrong with folk.) My point is simply this; if you go see Laura J Martin live, expect the unexpected. Armed with her trusty loopstation, which sits at her feet, she takes the already beautiful sounds that come from her instruments and creates a multi-layered composition of melodies that perfectly compliments her sweet but haunting voice. Catching up with her during a phone chat recently, the Liverpool born, Leeds based singer mused upon the nature of musical genres, and how defining her sound into one style will never give you the full illuminated picture. “My style derives mainly from the instruments that I play, and my main instrument is the flute. So my sound definitely has elements of folk, but I wouldn’t like to be boxed as just that. In the past when I’ve taken part in jam sessions, I’ve played a lot of funk flute. I don’t want people to get the impression that it’s all serious folk” she adds, “I do like to have a beat in my music, in fact, the tracks that I like to perform live the most are the ones with a beat.”

Live at The Bowery, Sheffield. Photography by Peter Martin

Over the course of our conversation I discover that validity of this statement. Laura is a jam session veteran; lending her voice and musical ability to performances by hip hop, experimentalism and jazz artists (a much beloved musical style of Laura’s, who rates Herbie Mann as a key influence). Recent collaborations have been with diverse and left-field artists such as the hip hop/turntablist/rock and blues singer Buck 65 (“He’s one of my hero’s”) and kidkanevil. “He’s a hip hop producer and beat maker”, she tells me, “His style is very eclectic. I was involved in his live show for a few years.”

So how did this petite virtuoso come to possess her musical wizardry? I suggested to Laura that her childhood must have involved imps and faeries and nights spent running across deserted moors. “Not quite!” she laughs, “I did go up in suburban Liverpool after all!”. Still, she reflects, “I was a geek. I used to like climbing trees and exploring. I would find excitement in very small things.” Clearly, this free spirited childhood helped shape the creative and imaginative grown up Laura. Case in point; when she “gets up to mischief” in the name of finding a beat; “I’ve gone into the kitchen and banged pots and pans…. it’s all about getting a stick and banging things and seeing what comes out!” And when I ask about the inspiration for her track Dokidoki, she cites the weather for pointing her towards the melody that she would use. “It was a very sunny day,” she explains, “And I was in a really good mood. I went into the shower and the melody came out!”

A major creative highlight of Laura’s was a year spent in Japan, where she immersed herself in the music scene, taking part in numerous jam sessions, namely with the group Soil & “Pimp”. Already being fascinated with Asian culture (and a devotee of Kung Fu films, “the melodies are ace!” she laughs) she used her time productively. “I didn’t watch much T.V, it was all about listening to music, practicing music and reading and not being spoon-fed anything.” Her time in Japan was certainly eventful; one night she awoke to discover that her balcony was in flames, in what was later discovered to be an arson attack. Fortunately, no one was hurt, and Laura – as ever – was open to inspiration in the most unexpected of scenarios and took the opportunity to research the history of Japans arson attacks, a journey which led her to the mother of all arsonists (and legends) Yaoya Oshichi. Oshichi, she explains, then went on to become the subject matter of her track ‘Fire Horse‘. See? Like I told you, her influences and inspirations are as diverse and eclectic as she is.

Illustration by Jess Swainson

Now back on her home turf, Laura plans to keep going full steam ahead with her career. As well as releasing her new track ‘The Hangman Tree’ in early 2010 (check her MySpace for details) she is finishing up her new album and planning her gigs for the months ahead. Lucky Londoners can see her performing this Saturday as part of the You Choose Jamboree night. The venue is undisclosed, but sign up to You Choose Jamborees guest list, and the location will be emailed to you. I can’t wait to see what the New Year has in store for Laura J Martin, and I can’t wait to see what she has in store for us.

Brixton’s Windmill had a distinctly North American flavour to it, with a cold (and windy) November Monday being warmed up by the scuzzy blues of J.D. Smith and the alt-country tinged Bearhat. Then, filling all corners of the bijou stage, were tonight’s headliners, Canadian six-piece Hey Rosetta!
Part-way through a mini European tour, Hey Rosetta! have already garnered some very favourable reviews back home for their live shows, as well as their debut album, the Hawksley Workman-produced Into Your Lungs. Comparisons have been drawn with the likes of Wilco and Arcade Fire, but for me the parallels with their Canadian compatriots are the most apposite. With that indie rock twist on alt-country, fleshed out with orchestral flourishes, Hey Rosetta! go for the epic, yet manage to avoid ending up with the overblown.

Singer and main songwriter Tim Baker is an engaging front-man, swapping piano for guitar (even mid-song) and certainly doesn’t shirk his vocal duties, with a delivery worthy of the drama in his songs.
You could accuse Hey Rosetta! of being a bit formulaic, with songs tending to start off very low key, with either just a solo piano or acoustic guitar, slowly building up momentum before exploding into life, but who cares when they do it so well? Also, they tend to throw a little of the unexpected into the mix, such as the intro to the song Holy Shit (What a Relief), which tips a sizeable doff of the cap to Pink Floyd’s Breathe, from prog epic Dark Side Of The Moon.

By the time Hey Rosetta! got to the end of their set, closing with the typically rousing New Goodbye, even the most hard-bitten of Brixtonians at the Windmill were swept along by the band’s energy.
After a couple more London dates, Hey Rosetta! are due to head back across the Pond to finish off the year with more Canadian shows. Though largely unknown in these parts at the moment, I’m pretty sure that we’ll be hearing as lot more of Hey Rosetta! in the months to come.