Saturday 5 December 2015

Courtney Barnett Live Review; Liverpool O2 Academy 1 December 2015



Courtney Barnett

Liverpool 02 Academy

December 1st 2015

Live Review

 


I wasn’t really going to watch Courtney Barnett play live and not write anything about it was I? It’s a sort of a given, a bit of tradition by now.

The show at Liverpool on December 1st would be the fourth time that I’d seen her live this year; once at Manchester in April, and twice at Glastonbury in June. As I’d written about the Manchester gig for this blog and the two Glastonbury shows for my last book, I felt that I really should do the same for this Liverpool show. It would have seemed odd being there and not scribbling a few words down. It would be a way of ending the year of seeing Courtney Barnett live in appropriate way.

The tickets had come out ages before the show. In fact, I think I had them before June and therefore before I saw her at Glastonbury. The gig had been a long time coming and was a little ray of sunshine on the (far) horizon as autumn turned into winter.

It was a rainy evening in Liverpool as I headed off to the O2. It had been rainy and blustery all day. Things weren’t looking that good.

Unlike the rest of the tour, the Liverpool date was the only one that hadn’t sold out. There were still tickets available on the door. I’d also read a couple of brief reviews of the gig from the night before, in Manchester. From these accounts, Courtney Barnett hadn’t seemed to be particularly interested in everything, not talking that much and not really interacting with the crowd. Maybe she’d reached the point of no return, maybe she was burning out after touring the album across the world for the best part of a year or more. I was a touch sceptical about these reviews; surely that wasn’t the case and maybe the reviewer wasn’t an especially big fan, but you never can be sure. Maybe it had all got to be a bit much.

Additionally, a rainy Tuesday night in Liverpool in what could be a half-empty venue mightn’t be the best way for things to pick up. Tuesday nights are never a good night for a gig; work/school etc the next day. People nervously checking their watches towards the end of the gig so they don’t miss the last bus or train home doesn’t add up to a great atmosphere. Furthermore, I’d gone on so much about the wonder that is Courtney Barnett to one of my work colleagues that he’d crumbled from my incessant nagging and got a ticket for himself and his wife for the gig. Was the first time that they’d see her live destined to be a bit of a let-down? I feared that it might be.

Walking from where I’d parked the car to the O2 only took me five minutes or so. There was a brief gap in the rain so I didn’t get soaked and by the time I turned up at the door I was pleased to see that there was a queue to get in No drenching and clearly not a half-empty gig. Things were looking up.

Once inside I was pleasantly surprised to find the place pretty much full. If it hadn’t sold out beforehand then I’d have bet there were only a few tickets left on the door. I’d missed the first of the two support bands, Zuzu but did catch all of the second act, Big Scary; a band from Melbourne who I thought were pretty good in a sort of early Talking Heads/MGMT way. I’ve read a couple of other reviews of the Courtney Barnett tour and Big Scary didn’t go down that well, being seen as a bit synthy and 80’s-ish. I think that is kind of the point, a sort of naïve and fractured pop. Well, I liked them and certainly would give them another go.

But I wasn’t really there to see the support acts, irrespective of how good or bad they were. I was there to see Courtney Barnett. It wasn’t that packed that I had to elbow my way to the front, but busy enough for it to take me a good few minutes of squeezing through to get a good vantage point at the right hand side of the stage. Right next to the tall PA stack. As I fumbled I my pocket for my notebook and pen (which I nearly had left at home after wondering whether it was worth it), I realised that standing so close to it might not be the most sensible thing to have done. It might be a bit loud. It was too late though. I wasn’t going to inch my way through the crowd again.

There was a list of stage times sellotaped to a door next to the stage, showing that Courtney Barnett was due on at 9.30 with a curfew of 11.00. That’d do me. An hour and a half set. If she turned up on time.

But Courtney Barnett isn’t The Fall; she’s too professional for turning up late. (Not that I mind The Fall doing that; it’s what I expect them to do. I’d be a bit wary if they did turn up on time for a gig.) So spot on at 9.30 ish, she and the band bounded on stage with the sound of Suzi Quatro’s Can the Can playing over the PA (what a great tune by the way, I really must listen to it again!), and launched straight into “Elevator Operator”, the first track from the “Sometimes I Sit…” album.

Have you ever been at a gig and you know from the get-go, from the first few bars of the first song that it’s going to be a good one and you’re going to see something special? Well, that’s how it was. I just knew! All my earlier ridiculous doubts disappeared like faint mist when Courtney Barnett stepped up to the mic, grinned at everyone and started to sing.

It might have been a Tuesday night, it might have been raining outside and maybe every last ticket hadn’t been sold, yet it didn’t matter. This was what it was all about. That boppy-as-fuck song was the perfect way to kick things off. And the band sounded so very, very tight. The last time I’d seen Courtney Barnett was the second of two sets she’d played at Glastonbury in one day and despite enjoying it immensely, there was a certain ramshackle quality to it all. It was all a tad loose and probably only to be expected after a long day. This time however, there was a sharpness and precision to it all. Not one dropped note, nothing fluffed. A definite and diamond-like intensity flowed from the stage. Whether this was because by now they’d played the songs so much with the relentless gigging, I’m not sure but I was staggered with it all. There was still an undercurrent of movement within the song and it would be giving the wrong impression to say that that it was too studied and too precise. This was not a dialled in, perfect muso rock star, what-city-are-we-in-tonight performance. It just seemed like they’d stuck the perfect balance between playing the songs spot-on and allowing them to, well, breathe, if that makes any sort of sense. I looked around and saw that people were jumping up and down, smiling and grinning. It was all going down well. I realised that I was grinning as well. I couldn’t help it.

“Thank you!” So Courtney was talking to us! Maybe she’d just had a bad night in Manchester 24 hours earlier. (That’s understandable; I’ve had plenty of bad nights in Manchester.) She nodded to Dave Mudie and Bones Sloane, the driving force of the CB3, the veritable engine room of the whole shebang and it was straight into “Avant Gardener”, the track that I’ll never get bored with, the track with the killer lines that invariably bring a lump to my throat. I thought that she might have left it towards the end of the seat or even played it in the encore, but no, hear it was, second song in and kicking hard. If you’ve never heard any Courtney Barnett (and if not, why not?), then make a point of tracking this song down. This is where it all starts. Or started for me anyway.

“Dead Fox” from the album came along next, and I noticed Courtney Barnett and the band smiling at each other throughout the whole song.  They were clearly having a good time. Possibly it was because she was wearing a cooler-than cool Flashdance t-shirt or that she was sipping from a bottle of water throughout the set. You don’t need to get pissed to have a good time in Liverpool Courtney!  

The first three fast-paced tracks were despatched in rapid succession and then things slowed down a bit with “Small Poppies”.This is a darker tune and one that shows her not just as a purveyor of elegantly crafted pop songs, but also able to construct tales that are bleaker and more introspective. It’s particularly noteworthy that within this live incarnation of the track she is able to thrash away, almost in a Sonic Youth fashion on her guitar due largely to the foundation laid by the band. They’re like the Crazy Horse to Courtney’s Neil Young. They are that good.

With only one album and the double e.p/l.p “A Sea of Split Peas” behind her, then it might be thought that Courtney Barnett hasn’t really got enough material to pay a full hour and a half set, but that’s far from the case. The opposite applies really because every song she’s released is worthy of an outing in a live setting. There are no fillers, nothing on the records that might even make you pause and think that one particular track or another wouldn’t translate or work outside on the studio.

She mixed up the set really well, playing older songs like “Lance Jr” and “Canned Tomatoes” alongside “An Illustration of Loneliness” and “Debbie Downer” from the album. As a measure of how good the older songs are, they still sound as fresh as ever and familiarity isn’t breeding contempt; either from the band or the audience. We were all happy to hear them once again and the band didn’t seem at all bored with giving them another airing.

It’s interesting that the audience was comprised of quite a fair few older folks (like myself) as well as a lot of young kids in their late teens or early twenties. Courtney Barnett seems to have hit a wide ranging chord. This was especially noticeable during “Depreston” when the sing-a-along spread right through the crowd and not just a select few fans.


Courtney Barnett then mentioned something that still makes me kick myself.

“Anyone here tonight who saw us last play in Liverpool?”

A few cheers.

“Well, that was one of our best gigs ever! Thanks for sticking with us!”

A few more cheers. I cursed to myself.

Now that gig was a couple of years ago at the Zanzibar and as part of Sound City. The very next day, not much more than 12 hours later, I heard “Avant Gardener” for the very first time and was instantly hooked. “If” is a very small word indeed, but for the sake of 24 hours and if I’d heard it,, I would have been at that “best ever” gig. A lesson learned for sure. Seize the day indeed!      

What was a bit of surprise to me was that halfway through the set, the lights dimmed and she played a stonking version of “Kim’s Caravan” from the album. This dark, very dark and yet thoughtful tune is for me a highlight on the album, possibly the best song she’s ever written and one which gives a fascinating direction for where she may go next. She hadn’t played it the three times I’d seen it earlier in the year, so to stand, jaw dropping with magnificence of it all, as it built into a ear-shattering crescendo, strobes blinking on stage was a real treat. On record the song is outstanding and one that I imagine would have been difficult to replicate live, yet they managed to pull it off with some style.

Another sign of a good gig is when it’s over before you realise it, and they wrapped it up with "Pedestrian at Best”; all ripped up, seismically loud and with bucketloads of style

They waved us a quick goodbye and then popped back on stage with Big Scary to do a happy and joyous cover of The Saints “Know Your Product”  before concluding matters with a raucous version of “History Eraser”.

And exactly at 11.00 p.m. it was all over. A Tuesday night that ended up being even better than I could have hoped for. As everyone patiently queued to get out into the rain, the weather didn’t seem to matter than much anymore. We’d all had a great time; Courtney, Dave and Bones seemed to have enjoyed themselves immensely and we’d all played a part in something pretty special.

This would be my last Courtney Barnett gig for 2015. It’s difficult to assess whether it was better than any of the other three times I saw her in 2015. Maybe it’s just different every time and probably that’s a very good thing. You can’t predict such things. What I do know is that somewhere along the line, I’ll see her play live again and it’ll be just as magnificent as the 1st December 2015.      




There's a lot (a whole lot more!) about Courtney Barnett in my book about the Glastonbury 2015 festival, "Feels Like Going Home" here:

You can find my other writings about Courtney Barnett on Toppermost here:

And buy the records!

Thursday 12 November 2015

Flying Lotus at Glastonbury 2015- new book extract

Nearly at the end of the new Glasto book! Just editing to do. (Just!)  And a title to decide upon.

In advance of that though, here's a brief snippet, hot off the press, about Flying Lotus' Sunday night set...     



I reached West Holts at exactly the moment Flying Loftus’ set kicked off. I couldn’t have timed it better. It all looked very futuristic. A massive square arch was set up on the stage, lit up with the coolest blue (or was it red? I can’t remember and I never made a note, but it was cool.) Behind this arch and behind some sort of opaque screen, Flying Lotus entered and started ripping it up from the word go. It was well, hard to describe. 

Jazz? Dark? Experimental? Hip hop?

All of this and more. 

Wildly different and not what you’d expect from a headliner. Good on Glasto for putting someone different and quite risky in such a slot. It was loud as well; very loud. This was good. From the start he brought onto the stage with him the legendary bass player, Thundercat. 

Bonus points.

I sat towards the back of the field on one of the benches and wallowed in the music. It was a matter of getting lost in it, letting it swirl around the dark Glastonbury night sky, and to let it flow. There were a few people sitting on the benches near me, some of whom clearly knew exactly who Flying Lotus was and were, like me, loving every second. Some others however, I think had simply sat down for a rest, to clear their heads, to let things wear off a bit and seemed mystified and baffled about what was happening on the stage.

As for me, I had no idea what any of the songs were. I recognised the start of the set as “Theme” and I thought he followed that with “It Was a Good Day” (the Ice Cube song.) I really should have picked up on the rest of the set that I saw because I’d heard enough of his stuff before. I had his “You’re Dead” and “Cosmogramma” albums and played them more than a few times. It didn’t matter because live he was a revelation. A lot sharper, if that makes sense. Like a blurred photograph being pulled into focus. Or more like that moment when you’re at the opticians and they try all those different lenses in the glasses and then, suddenly, they slot that one lens in and blam! It all becomes crystal clear. That’s exactly what it was like.

That sharpness, that diamond-like edge to the songs made all the difference. Half-formed memories of hearing the tracks on CD had me thinking “oh yes, this is…oh, what is it called…?” but it was moving too quickly and I was too tired to get a handle on it. Besides, I didn’t want to spend my time there racking my brains, I simply wanted to hear the music. Because that’s all it’s about isn’t it? The music.

I looked around the field. It was a shame because it wasn’t much over half full. I’d have bet that The Who, The Chemical Brothers and FFS were a much bigger draw than Flying Lotus. I sort of felt sorry for people who were missing out on this because they were stood at the Pyramid watching The Who go through all their tired old moves.  On the other hand, if they’d made a decision to go and see The Who, then I’d guess they wouldn’t really appreciate Flying Lotus.

But I had a decision to make myself, twenty five minutes into Flying Lotus’ set. 

Was I going to stay or was I going to peg it back to the Park Stage to watch Ryan Adams? I had painted myself into a bit of corner here. 

A dilemma.   



My previous three books about Glasto are all available here-

either as Kindle e books or in paperback:


Monday 2 November 2015

The Stone Roses-Don't Stop : A "Totally Shuffled" extract

On the night that Stone Roses announce another massive gig, here's my extract from "Totally Shuffled" about them..

Proceed with caution....



June 15th
The Stones Roses-Don’t Stop-The Stone Roses  

There are times that when listening to particular records specific, precise memories are evoked and for an instant you are transported back in time. 

Proustian. 

Hearing just a few stray notes or an odd chord sequence is all that is needed. 

It was a Saturday in December 1990. I was driving to Southport, in a blue Ford Fiesta, along the back roads at 8.30 in the morning. 

A crisp, clear, dry winter day. The fields either side of the road had a faint mist hovering over them and whilst the sun was too weak and hazy to burn anything away, what had been thick, muffling fog an hour earlier, was slowly dissipating. 

There were hardly any other cars on the road and I took corner after corner at speed, but not overly excessively, keeping up a smooth and steady rhythm. I was only having to touch the brakes lightly now and then. 

I had one cassette to listen to. This Stone Roses album was on one side and The House of Love’s debut on the other although I kept playing the Stone Roses over and over again. I remember taking one bend at about 50 mph, swooping and dipping, picking the perfect moment to accelerate out of it as “(Song for My) Sugar Spun Sister” came on. 

It was a perfect moment with a perfect song from a perfect album.

Well, that’s what I thought back then. And for a long time afterwards. 

Maybe I’d bought into all the hype about the Stone Roses and particularly this album. (Not maybe-definitely). I’d read all the glowing reviews (all 5 stars etc), and that they were the future of rock and roll. 

I really did like the album, but in retrospect I wonder how much of it was due to genuinely liking it for what it was and how much was due to the overwhelming critical acclaim? 

At the time of its release it was already being spoken about as one of the greatest albums of all time; and even now it’s still up there in those lists so beloved of the music press. If their first album was so good, then the follow-up was destined to be a just as good, if not better. 

But, as such things tend to go, they pissed around for ages and ages and took over 5 years to release it. At the time, I tried to convince myself that it was a good album, but it was self-delusion. All it was was the sound of too much time and too many drugs. They split up afterwards in a storm of acrimony, though I still had the first album filed under “all-time-classics” in my mind.

Not having played it for the longest time, it was only upon hearing of their totally unexpected (and not for any financial gain at all oh no it’s all for artistic reasons) reunion in 2012, that I dug it out and gave it another spin. I did expect that I’d be returning to an old favourite and wondering why I’d taken so long to get back to it. It would be as if I’d be reunited with an old friend. 

Two songs in though, it was more like being reunited with a boring relative who goes on and on and on about events in the past.  I couldn’t believe how insipid it all sounded. There were odd flashes here and there, but it was the sound of filler that surprised me. 

My memory of something light and sparking was, in reality, replaced by the sound of plodding and obviousness.

Overall? Don’t stop? 

Do please stop. 

I’m so glad that you did and I just wish you’d never started again.    




This is an extract from "Totally Shuffled-A Year of Listening to Music on a Broken iPod"

        


  and what "Totally Shuffled" is all about:



One track per day for 366 days on a broken iPod. 
366 tracks out of a possible 9553. 
From the obvious (The Rolling Stones), to the obscure (Karen Cooper Complex). 
From the sublime (The Flaming Lips) to the risible (Muse).   
From field recordings of Haitian Voodoo music to The Monkees. 
From Heavy Metal to Rap by way of 1930’s blues, jazz, classical, punk, and every possible genre of music in between. 
This is what I listened to and wrote about for a whole year, to the point of never wanting to hear any more music again. Some songs I listened to I loved, and some I hated. Some artists ended up getting praised to the skies and others received a bit of critical kicking. 
There’s memories of spending too many hours in record shops, prevaricating over the next big thing and surprising myself over tracks that I’d completely forgotten about. 
But with 40 years of listening to music, I realised that I’ll never get sick of it.  I may have fallen out of love with some of the songs in this book, but I’ll never fall out of love with music.     



Get/read Totally Shuffled here

Kindle: