For Connected

I make no secret of the fact that I think a lot of Irish music doing the rounds nowadays is very mediocre. Therefore, when Connected assigned me to stand in the middle of a Dublin shipping dock on a Saturday night in the middle of November, the only thing that was tearing me away from the warmth of my sitting room and Jedward (now there’s quality…) was the draw of a certain Jeremy Hickey and his wonderful drumstick-wielding ways. Hickey, who is better known by his ironic moniker, Rarely Seen Above Ground (RSAG), was on just before headliners New Young Pony Club, though, so whilst waiting I hung around and took advantage of the free Coors Light and ate chips to keep warm. Oh, and I checked out a couple of bands too…

Codes
The Dublin indie quartet played songs from their debut album, Trees Dream in Algebra, to get the crowd warmed up. Phantom FM playlist stalwarts such as ‘You Are Here’ and ‘This is Goodbye’ provided plenty of fodder for the mass of indie fans that had amalgamated at the foot of the stage. In fairness to the band, ‘This is Goodbye’ is a catchy, melodic number that suits the singer’s androgynous voice but, on a whole, Codes are a poor man’s Keane who probably aspire to be more like Muse, yet haven’t quite got the balls to pull it off (although Muse are the most overrated band of our generation, so it’s much of a muchness). They seemed to placate the crowd – each to their own – but at this point I was still wishing I had stayed in and watched X-Factor.

Tiny Magnetic Pets
With nods to Kraftwerk, Stereolab and David Bowie, Tiny Magnetic Pets emulate some of electronica’s greatest innovators with an admirable aptitude for their chosen field. They seem to have grasped the concept of ‘less is more’ on a lot of tracks (‘See What I See’, ‘Spinning’); letting sparsity speak volumes whilst dually avoiding the messy synth-orgy that so many Irish electro-pop outfits get drawn into due to over eagerness and inexperience. Saying this, tracks like ‘Control Me’ prove that the Psychonavigation-signed duo can still hold their own in the dancefloor-filling stakes. Ok, so they’re not breaking any moulds with singer Paula Glimmer’s Allison Goldfrapp-esque vocals, but their understanding and usage of analogue instrumentation is usually spot on. Their cover of the Eurythmics’ ‘Love is a Stranger’ was particularly noteworthy and there were more than a few heads mouthing the words to their biggest hit to date, ‘Girl in a White Dress’.

RSAG
After some time spent admiring industrial paraphernalia that had been transformed to fit the scene – 40ft shipping containers used as projection screens – RSAG was announced as the next act and the crowd started to heave en masse towards the stage. As the only artist to have been booked to play all five Coors Light Peak gigs (in Dublin, Cork, Waterford, Galway and Limerick), the Kilkenny man was undoubtedly one of the main draws for many ticketholders.

His debut album Organic Sampler is one of the best Irish records to have been released in recent years and his live sets never fail to disappoint. With his trademark ‘graphic band’ visuals especially striking thanks to the industrialised backdrop, things were off to a good start. Whoring through tracks from the aforementioned Organic Sampler, RSAG’s short set surged through the crowd like a combustible burst of live energy. Live, his deadpan, Ian Curtis-like voice is certainly less-than-comprehensible but I guess it’s a matter of personal taste as to whether that takes away from the songs or not.

Personally, I think it’s neither here nor there and, in fact, may even add to his renowned reputation as a great live performer. Flawless vocals can often be strangely unsatisfying at a live gig but, again, it’s down to personal opinion on that front. It’s hard to pick out any one highlight of the set; ‘Talk Back, Crawl Back’, ‘The Climb’, ‘Days Go By’… the list goes on. I would strongly urge you to check out RSAG before the rest of the world cotton on to one of our most exciting musical assets.
Ok, sycophantic fawning out of the way… let’s move on.

Drag Queen Bingo / Extreme Rhythm
Filling the set up time that was going on over at the main stage, regular Twisted Pepper DJ duo Drag Queen Bingo teamed up with Wexford-based percussion ensemble, Extreme Rhythm, on the smaller stage to inject some vigour into the frost-stiffened limbs of the crowd. Energetic drum pounding fused with favourite club classics such as Paul Van Dyk’s ‘For an Angel’ were definite crowd pleasers.

New Young Pony Club
Considering that New Young Pony Club (NYPC) haven’t released any new material since their 2007 Mercury-nominated debut, Fantastic Playroom, the band’s headliner status felt more like a last minute panic by the booking agents than a carefully planned move. That fact is compounded further by looking at the quality of Coors Light Peak’s previous Irish headliners: Reverend & The Makers, The Charlatans, Fight Like Apes and Jape.

Call me ungrateful, but I felt a little hard done by on behalf of us Dubliners. Nonetheless, onetime super-hyped singles such as ‘Ice Cream’ and ‘The Bomb’ persuaded me to drop the cynicism for a nano-second and give NYPC a chance. Result? Meh. The crowd bopped away regardless in the ever-increasing cold, thanks to a steady stream of Coors Light and an admirably energetic set from a so-so band. They did play some new material but in my humble opinion there was nothing earth-shattering going on.

Overall, the gig was visually impactive and well organised. Feeder busses ferried punters to and from the city centre with no obvious hiccups and security seemed to be extra vigilant; perhaps due to the somewhat perilous setting. Just give us a bit of sunshine to go with our ice cold beers next time and we’ll be happy.

Review: Sheena Madden

Photography: Sara Devine

I used to work for a cd duplication company. We took in the masters, listened to the quality, checked the track listing was in order then sent them for pressing. If it was a really exciting day I might get to design the face of a promo cd – pulse-racing excitement. This being Ireland, it was rare that I came across ‘the next big thing’ through this process and so I had to resign myself to the fact that my days would be spent listening to either Red Hurley’s latest, greatest showband tunes or the strained attempts of some Rose of Tralee wannabe from Borris-in-Ossery who’s daddy had paid for a demo. You can imagine, so, my surprise and relief when one of these master copys turned out to be not only highly listenable but alluringly distinctive.

Maria Tecce, Dublin-based, Spanish-American, one-woman jazz force is unlike anything you are likely to come across by scouring the Hype Machine or any of your usual musical hunting grounds. Maria’s music doesn’t feel like it belongs on the web, amongst the overpowering myriad of hipsters, scenesters, movers & shakers all vying for your eyes and ears. It feels like the kind of music you would have discovered whilst strolling down some prohibition-era backstreet, straining to detect the whisper of a speakeasy songstress rising from the quagmires of the underground.

I mentioned Maria last year when she performed at the Dublin Fringe Festival and this year Scotland’s Fringe Festival crowd experienced the music of one of our most soulful and playful adopted citizens. Catch Maria perform in the intimate settings of JJ Smyths of Aungier Street (beside DBS college) this Sunday 22nd November for an theatrically indulgent pre-Christmas treat.

I’ve been asked to compile a playlist for a family party. Easy, enjoyable enough task you’d think; that’s what I thought until I started. Trying to come up with an arrangement of music to suit everyone from my 17 year old emo cousin to my 75 year old granny, plus a load of new French relatives that I’ve never met, is no mean feat. I refuse to go down the ‘party megamix’ route and I don’t think that Paramore and My Chemical Romance will go down well with the olds, so any suggestions are more than welcome.

Thought I’d get started with these:

Marlena Shaw – California Soul

Eddie Bo – Check Your Bucket

Jurassic 5 – Concrete Schoolyard

From Connected

After months of watching insipid indie-kids standing around languidly as some hipster in hipsters played with synthesisers, it was great to see people dancing so much that their collective sweat dripped from the walls
The Saturday night before a bank holiday Sunday doesn’t usually bode too well for pub owners or party goers. Not to mention the fact that that bastard of an economy has knocked the bollocks out of our leather wallets and sequined purses, people tend to save themselves for Halloween night so that they can blow €70 on an inflatable whoopee cushion costume in the vain hope of winning a plastic trophy and a bottle of sparkling wine down the local hotspot.

Imagine my surprise, so, when I arrived at the Button Factory last Saturday to see Chicago’s most successful buskers, Hypnotic Brass Ensemble, and found the place packed tighter than John O’Donoghue’s expense account. The thing about the Button Factory is you have to get there early otherwise you’re screwed, thanks to the ‘school hall’ shape of the room. Thankfully, Connected risked life and limb manoeuvring our way through the slightly agro crowd as they tutted, sighed and spilled warm beer on our heads, before nestling ourselves into a comfy spot between the sound techies and the stage (all for the benefit of you, our beloved readers, of course).

Only once we were in situ did the real energy of the place come resonate with us; though we did feel a little sorry for the poor sods who’d forked out €22 to stand down the back without so much as a glimpse of the stage. After months of watching insipid indie-kids standing around languidly as some hipster in hipsters played with synthesisers, it was great to see people dancing so much that their collective sweat dripped from the walls; such was the effect of the nine hyperactive Hypnotic’s on stage; eight of whom are sons of Kelan Phil Cohran, trumpeter with the legendary Sun Ra Arkestra and founder of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians.

The assemblage of trumpets, trombones, baritones, drums and that mighty impressive sousaphone is a sight enough in itself but to play those instruments with the panache and professionalism of the HBE takes some doing. Not to mention the fact that they move like Chippendales in rhythmic unison to the jazz/hip-hop/funk/soul fusion that appears to come so easily to them. As children, the eight Cohran brothers had wind instruments thrust into their mouths in place of pacifiers and, though they have grown up in a hip-hop generation, their primary sound has its roots in 60’s Jazz and 70’s Soul.

Their instantly recognisable second single ‘War’, which they dedicated to all of those fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, could be described simultaneously as a battle cry, thanks to its segmented instrumentation and overlying trumpet solo, or a contemporary jazz opus. Either way, the crowd went mental for it, as they did with the rest of a raucous, sweaty set. In fact, the only time that HBE seem slightly under par is when they allow their hip-hop influences to surpass their phenomenally disciplined musicianship. Calls to the crowd to “let me hear you say Hypnoticbrass.net” and an over-extended rendition of ‘ole, ole, ole’ came across as unnecessary and caused a bit of a lull in the night’s proceedings.

But now we’re really just nit-picking. Ideally, you want to be seeing these guys in their natural, organic environment: in front of a dressed shop window at Christmas, a sprawling urban park in Summertime or down a cobble-locked side street in the late evening sun. You can bet your bottom dollar that at least half of Saturday’s crowd turned up as a result of having seen this formidable band of brothers at Electric Picnic in September. For all their hip-hop stylings and “say yeeaah, say ho-ho” yammering, Hypnotic Brass Ensemble are exceptional musicians and merit a distinctive setting for their music to be fully realised. Failing that, though, the Button Factory will do.

review: Sheena Madden

From Le Cool Dublin

Did you know that The Buzzcocks were responsible for bringing The Sex Pistols to The Lesser Free Trade Hall for that legendary gig? Yep, it’s true. Pete Shelley and Howard Devoto hopped on a bus to London to check out the Sex Pistols and were so impressed with what they saw that they hauled the band back to Manchester with them. In the end, The Buzzcocks didn’t play at the gig themselves due to some of the musicians dropping out, but they can still lay claim to organising the most important date in punk history. Proving that they are still undisputed lynchpins of punk, The Buzzcocks are touring once again, in anticipation of their support slot in December to fellow Mancunian band The Courteeners, and their catchy pop melodies merged with raw punk energy keep songs such as ‘Ever Fallen in Love (with Someone you Shouldn’t’ve)’ feeling as fresh and anarchic as ever.

Sheena Madden

From Le Cool Dublin

After serving time as a session musician before playing guitar alongside Jarvis Cocker (whilst on tour with thinking man’s Britpop outfit, Pulp), it wasn’t until the 2001 release of his eponymous debut album that Sheffield’s finest troubadour, Richard Hawley, really came into his own. Bittersweet, baritone songs set to lush, orchestral scores recalled the music of Scott Walker and made a million sickeningly-in-love couples weep. With songsabout love, heartbreak and the town he grew up in – “next to a butchers and the taxidermist and over the road from the cemetery” – Hawley’s lyrics are revered amongst adoring fans and industry heads alike. Whether you’re a self-confessed muso, one half of a sickeningly-in-love couple, or just someone who knows damn fine musicianship when you hear it, you’d be best advised to make your way to the Olympia.

Courtesy of cartoonstock.com

There are two things in life that I consider to be real ‘interests’: music and well-written collections of words. Faced with a scenario such as this, it seemed like a natural progression to try to combine the two, to attempt to merge them into some sort of comprehensible gelatinous gloop of music and words, no? It would seem not.

They don’t tell you when you start to write about music (for anyone other than yourself) that it will slowly turn you against the very thing that encouraged you to consider this doomed career path in the first place. To listen to every piece of music critically is to hold with contempt everything you hear until the music proves you wrong. This is not how I like to listen to music. This is not why people create music. Whether you, as a ‘music critic’, like a certain song, album, performance, musician, singer or whatever the case may be, is largely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Bar a few exceptions, people make music because they love the way it sounds and because it means something to them. Sure, there are going to be sell-outs and publicity-whores, but if belting out the songs you love and making a few quid (or a few million quid, as the case may be) along the way brings somebody three  minutes of happiness by listening to it, then you’ve done your job as a musician (idealistic as that thought may be). Ok, so I can’t stand Keane, I think the Kings of Leon are complete sell-outs and there’s a whole generation of teen R’n'Bsters that I know absolutely nothing about; despite priding myself on a vast musical repertoire and taste. This morning my six-year-old told me smugly that the guy gyrating between episodes of ‘The Hills’ on MTV was Chris Brown; I quote,  ”Did you know that mom?”. Actually, no I didn’t. All I knew of Chris Brown was that he was arrested for beating up his girlfriend – I thought it best not to mention this.

Getting back on course, the fact that there are whole genres out there that I couldn’t scratch the surface of – chart, classical, jazz, R’n'B – makes me wonder just why it is that certain ‘music critics’ project such an air of smug pomposity when it comes to pushing their views on the general public. Ok, I love The Velvet Underground, Joy Division, Fleetwood Mac and Talking Heads: all of whom might be considered ‘credible’ in certain snobbish circles. I don’t love them because they’re cool to love, I love them because they mean something to me and remind me of good times. I also love  Bananarama, Pet Shop Boys and Snow Patrol: all of whom might be considered ‘controversial choices’ at best. Similarly, there are people who love Katy Perry, Flo Rida, Chris Brown and Nikelback; because the music brings them joy. It doesn’t matter that they might be teenagers or that they may not have as vast a musical knowledge as your average NME reviewer – their opinion is as valid and valued as anybodies. Which brings me back to my realisation of the pigheadedness of music journalism. Now, I know that this is no great revelation. Journalists are the world’s no.1 most-hated professionals – ahead of estate agents and car salesmen; now that in itself is an achievement. But to realise this as someone who has wielded the pen of the critic, I feel lucky to have come to my senses about music journalism.

It’s no longer the holy grail of music knowledge, the end-of-the-road for enthusiasts seeking to display their prowess. With the internet, anybody can be a critic – and that’s great. Don’t get me wrong, not everybody can be a writer. Good writing takes natural ability, skill and training. But criticism? That’s anybodies baby. Everybody is entitled to their opinion; there can be no right or wrong. And this is precisely what is so wrong about the tired old back-slapping institution that is music journalism. Opinions are one thing, God-like, elitist musings are another. To give an opinion is one thing, to downright slate someones music or musical tastes is another.

On a personal level, I find myself increasingly reluctant to give bad reviews. Who am I to give a bad review? If I you like something; great, rave about it, let the world know. If not though, be careful how you convey it. You could argue that critics also bring many, many wonderful artists to public light – there’s no denying that – but my brief foray into the world of the critic has left a bad taste in my mouth. Spreading and sharing musical knowledge (music journalism) is a different beast altogether than posing your opinion on this knowledge (music criticism). In my experience, the practice of listening to music critically negates the practice of listening to music joyously and personally, I don’t think that’s a sacrifice I can make.

I’m not normally the world’s biggest Flaming Lips fan, but I absolutely love this song from their forthcoming album  ’Embryonic’, which will feature appearances from MGMT and Yeah Yeah Yeah’s Karen O.

This track is called Silver Trembling Hands and, although it still has that kind of otherworldly, sci-fi quality and nonsensical lyricism that is synonymous with The Flaming Lips, there is also something refreshingly unpretentious about it. I can’t quite put my finger on it but it reminds me of another song… any suggestions?

Will replace vid with better quality when available.

Culture Night 2008

For those who’ve had their fill of Guinness after Arthur’s Day and want to steer clear of the pubs this weekend, Dublin Culture Night is now in it’s third year and promises to be the biggest and most extravagant to date. With everywhere from The National Gallery to Trinity College and every independent gallery in between, Culture Night gives Dubliners and visitors an opportunity to experience all that our city has to offer beyond the walls of the local boozer. With some venues open as late as midnight, free entry to museums, guided walking tours and event-specific installations, the only difficulty will be deciding where to go next. So have a look at the website and plan your night now or just hop off the bus and have a stroll around the city where a host of helpful culture vultures will be on hand to guide you in the right direction.

You can read a great interview with Culture Night founder Grainne Millar here to find out what it’s all about.

*Note that while all events are free, some must be booked in advance. See website for details to avoid disappointment.

As published on Connected.ie, September ‘09

It’s rare that a support band kick the shit out of the headline act – musically speaking, of course – The Low Anthem are far too genteel to go engaging in fisticuffs. Thursday night saw the band kick off their European tour opening for Ray Lamontagne in the beautiful Gaiety Theatre and, though their set only ran a modest 30 minutes, the lasting impression that they left on the audience is sure to garner them more than a handful of shiny new fans.

Their latest release, ‘Oh My God, Charlie Darwin’, sees the band diversify from their previous album by exploring the harder side of their musical abilities with stomping, bluesy numbers that contrast starkly with their softer, folky side, resulting in an album of two halves that are equally mesmerising. Respecting the Gaiety’s noble structure and appeasing Ray’s refined crowd, the band kept it mainly quiet for the evening, with the exception being when utilising their magnificent double bass for an unbelievable rendition of ‘Don’t Let Nobody Turn You Around’. After they had stunned the audience with their haunting harmonies and plethora of musical oddities, Connected crashed The Low Anthem’s dressing room and shared a whiskey with frontman Ben Knox Miller.

The Low Anthem

Oh My God, Charlie Darwin is your third album. What do you think it is about this one that’s making people’s ears prick up?
Well I call it our second album. There is an earlier album and there are plenty of demos but the one before Oh My God, Charlie Darwin was a good solid album that I can go back to and listen to. To answer your question though, I think that the band have gotten better, I think that our songwriting is better, I think our performances are tighter.

We didn’t promote the last record at all. We were playing locally in Providence, Boston and New York, so we had this little strip of the Northeast that we would travel and play but we didn’t get the record in anybody’s hands, no A’n’R guys. We sold a couple of thousand copies by playing gigs live and that’s what we expected with this new record too but a couple of people from national media in the States picked up on it.

Paste magazine liked it, the Boston Globe wrote an amazing review and before we knew it we were mailing it out from our house. We sold about 10,000 copies before we signed to our new record label. We didn’t expect that at all; when we made the first run of albums we purchased 2000 copies. We were taken by surprise but it’s great.

Where did The Low Anthem’s journey begin?
Jeff and I started playing in bars when we were a duo and we had residencies in New York, New Haven, Boston so we were playing three regular gigs a week. They were shitty gigs playing to a drunk crowd. Maybe some of them came to hear music, and those people were great, but a lot of them were just there to get drunk.

There were a lot of Red Sox games on TVs in the background and you’d be in the middle of a song, trying to emote and sing your heart out, and then the crowd all of a sudden goes wild and you’d be thinking “Did I do something right?”, but then you’d look over at the flat screen and the Red Sox had just hit a home run. That sucked. We did that for a long time and by doing that we were able to make enough money to pay our rent and focus on the music.

You went from a duo to a trio with the inclusion of Dan Lefkowitz, who stayed with the band a mere six months before upping sticks to live in a yurt in Arkansas. Yet you remain close to Dan and he’s here with you this evening; why did he decide to leave?
It was just a matter of chemistry, he was a bit younger than Jeff and I. He’d dropped out of college to come join the band and he’d only done one year [of college] and we sort of knew what we wanted to be doing whereas it was a more experimental period in his life.
We bought him a plane ticket to come with us on this tour, so he’s gonna travel with us for a month. Tonight was for him to listen to the songs and see what we’re doing now and tomorrow he’ll sit in on a couple of songs. Maybe by the end we’ll be a quartet; not permanently though.

After Dan left, multi-instrumentalist Jocie Adams made The Low Anthem a trio once again. She was a NASA technician before joining the band; how’s she finding the career change?
I think the same fundamentals apply but I don’t know, I can’t speak for her. She’s incredibly smart but in these very eccentric ways. She doesn’t know how to talk about NASA but she worked there and she discovered crazy shit. She was analysing the particle makeup of other solar systems; crazy research projects that she can hardy explain to anyone. But she’s also a classical composer and I think that she just loved that more than, um, outer space.

You have been bundled into the New Folk Wave bracket by the media. Who do you see as your contemporaries?
Everybody compares us to Fleet Foxes, at least in Europe and the UK. It all started with Steve Lamacq. He wrote in his blog, “I’ve just found these guys, I love them, they could be this year’s Fleet Foxes.” So that was sort of the first thing that went out to the music industry and it just set off a chain reaction of comparisons. The truth is that I don’t really know what Fleet Foxes sound like; I’ve heard one or two songs on the radio but I haven’t really had time to digest their music.  I love Bon Iver’s record.

There’s something so human and un-self-aware about it; it’s just beautiful. I think that he’s a beautiful performer. However I don’t think that his music has that much to do with our music. We both sing in falsetto and there are harmonies but I think our music is different to his. The biggest reason is because there’s a lot more lyrical content in the songwriting of our music; a lot more hinges on narrative whereas with Bon Iver or Fleet Foxes’ music I think it’s more about the way that it’s sung and the vibe that’s created.  There’s a kind of movement in contemporary folk at the moment away from the content and lyrics and towards vibe and style.

Are poetic lyrics perhaps more important to you as a band, than the instrumentation?
The songs have to be there before you do anything else. If you don’t have the song then there’s nothing worth arranging. For us it all starts with the songs.

There are a total of 27 different instruments on OMG, CD. It must be tough deciding who plays what and what gets played when!
We all live together in Providence and we have a small rehearsal room that’s full of all of our instruments so we play musical chairs and try different combinations of things until the song starts to jump out. Sometimes you feel like you’ve found the right combination and then you go to record it and it just doesn’t work. You’re sitting there in the studio, the mics are all set up and then you just go “fuck it, this is bullshit”. So then we’ll try something else; everybody will move one seat to the right and pick up a different instrument. The way we play a song live can be very different to the way it sounds on the record.  We spend a lot of time trying different variations and trying to make things more dynamic.

OMG, CD was recorded on a bleak Block Island in the depths of winter. What do you think it was about that vast desolation that met the needs of your record so well?

The only person that we saw for ten days was the clerk at the grocery store and even then it was just to buy provisions and booze. We were set up in a home studio and we basically isolated ourselves over a really intense ten days. We just did take after take, nobody slept. I’m not sure if that’s the best way to make a record but there’s definitely something about it. There’s a vibe that comes out of that kind of situation. We chose where to record it and then that vibe happened; we went into it not really knowing what was going to happen. For the next record we’re thinking about going to Amsterdam and spending a couple of weeks there. We’ve fallen in love with the place.

You’re receiving rave reviews this side of the Atlantic and some of your tour dates have already sold out. Where are you looking forward to playing most?
The countries that have been most supportive are Holland, Belgium and the UK. We’re about to do a regional UK tour; we have a surprise show in November because our London show is already sold out. I’ve wanted to come to Ireland forever. We did a three week tour with Lisa Hannigan in the states and her band are great, great guys and they told us that we had to come to Dublin. Lisa has an amazing voice, I hope she’ll sing with us some time.

Who would be your ideal person to share a stage with?

I would love to sing with Lisa and I think that Emmylou Harris has one of the most beautiful voices. I have another crazy idea but I can’t tell you – you work in the media!

http://www.myspace.com/lowanthem

Words: Sheena Madden