This is North London. But tonight, it might as well be the Catskills in upstate New York from which the two original members of The Felice Brothers, James and Ian, originate. After a string of different lineups over the years, the latest band members, Jesske Humme on bass and Will Lawrence on drums, join the two brothers and together they play us through an affecting and lively collection of folk-roots-rock-style compositions.
There is something endearing about a band of musicians who seem like they came straight from the lumberyard and will be going back home to their porch for a brew rather than gulping champagne at a fancy party at a private members’ club. Hardworking, blue-collar people who happen to play music in their spare time; that’s the refreshing vibe spreading from the stage to all of us assembled tonight in the modest hall.
James sits behind his keyboard for most of the songs while Ian sings lead positioned in the middle of the stage, but James almost steals the show with his delightful honey-voice and every time he stands up and showcases his very mobile accordion playing.
The most moving moment of the evening is also the shortest song of the night, NailIt On the First Try, sung by James accompanying himself on the accordion while Ian plays keyboards. The song is a change in gear from the rest of the set’s tunes, and it makes me wish the song was longer. Such simple beauty. Such haunting lyrics: ‘I’ve never been so scared in my life, but then again, I’ve never died, I think I’m gonna nail it on the first try.’ Maybe it’s a good thing after all that the song is short. Who wants their death to be drawn out too long?!
The raucous and lively Penn Station makes for a great showstopper – an ultimate sing/shout-along anthem, the perfect soundscape for those revellers at the late-night bar ignoring the ‘last orders’.
Luckily it’s not time for the last orders yet. Ian comes out for an encore, alone at first, singing the excellent Ballad of Lou the Welterweight before the rest of the band join him for the last song, White Limo, which makes for the perfect anarchic, chaotic ending to a wondrous concert.
The Felice Brothers is a fabulous band. I never got to see them in their original lineup, but I hope there’ll be another chance to see them again somewhere down the gravelly, rocking road.
The Felice Brothers setlist 1. Holy Weight Camp 2. Jack at the Asylum 3. Aerosol Ball 4. Let Me Come Home 5. Wonderful Life 6. Salvation Army Girl 7. Whiskey in My Whiskey 8. The Kid 9. Nail It on the First Try 10. Special Announcement 11. Love Me Tenderly 12. Days of the Years 13. Plunder 14. Silver in the Shadow 15. Rockerfeller Druglaw Blues 16. Lincoln Continental 17. Frankie’s Gun 18. Penn Station Encore 19. Ballad of Lou the Welterweight 20. White Limo
It’s hot in the tiny backroom of this Islington pub conveniently called The Islington. The concert is sold out due to the fifty or sixty people in attendance. It’s bitterly cold outside. But inside the red-clad room, there’s warmth and no sign of bitterness. This gig is a party that could have taken place on a summery beach at sunset, Union Square in New York on a cloudy autumn day or a field full of blooming flowers in spring.
Brothers Moving are no slouches. They have perfected the art of playing on streets and town squares, on mountain tops, at festivals or, like tonight, in a small pub venue in North London – any type of location imaginable. Their music is straightforward, on the verge of being predictable sometimes. Simple chords. A bit of rock and roll. A bit of blues. A bit of reggae. Finally, adding a sea shanty-vibe, with vocals reminiscent of Louis Armstrong or Dr John. It’s a charming blend brimming with life, straightforwardness and extroversion.
The band consists of two brothers (I think there used to be a third brother in the group at one point): Aske (vocals, lead- and rhythm guitar) and Esben (vocals, rhythm guitar, kazoo) Knoblauch. Further members of the band are Nils Sørensen (bass, mouth-organ, backing vocals) and most recent member Leonard Kiel (drums), who is so new that tonight’s gig is his first with the band.
It’s also the band’s first-ever gig in London. In the beginning, they mainly busked in San Francisco and later New York but have since expanded to playing in Russia, at the Grand Canyon, and now also a pub gig in London.
The set consists of acoustic compositions of hard strumming and coarse singing. The band also plays a handful of cover songs, some of which I’m not sure whether they were on the original setlist or not. For instance, when one of Esben’s guitar string breaks and while a roadie (or friend?) restrings it, the band plays what seems like an impromptu version of With a Little Help From My Friends (more Joe Cocker than The Beatles) before Esben gets his guitar back and they can start playing the next song as planned.
The guitar still needs a bit of fine-tuning though. While Aske plays a solo on his guitar, Esben’s tuning adds a few off-notes that give the music a hint of avant-garde jazz for a moment, until Esben is back in tune and the four musicians ease into the song as it should be played. It’s a great moment and an excellent example of what a tight band can do. Instead of taking a break while waiting to fix the problem, they play through it while simultaneously sorting it out, making the ‘problem’ a part of the performance. It’s endearing and the way it should be.
They hammer this point home a few songs later when it’s Aske’s turn to break a string. Conveniently enough, it breaks towards the end of the song, Can’t Deny, in which the lyrics go, ‘You can’t deny what’s happening here is so sad, so sad… It’s so sad what’s happening here’ – which he turns into a joke about feeling sad about the broken string. Aske strings the guitar himself while the others continue showing they’re a bunch of musicians used to playing in the street and dealing with whatever technical issues you might face while keeping on going on. There’s no time to take a break in the street ‘cos you’ll lose your audience, so why not keep the music going while restringing and tuning back up?
Esben gets his kazoo out (this is not a euphemism) several times to great effect. The innate noise that a kazoo makes could get tiring, but he somehow pulls it off, partly ‘cos the music lends itself to that particular sound, as does his silly, madman personality. A touch of a ragged jazz show tune, Cab Calloway style, is part of this band’s musical uniform.
As I only know one of their songs in advance, the last one, Sorte sigøjner (one of the few songs that they sing in Danish), the only other songs I’m familiar with are the cover songs: Minnie the Moocher, With a Little Help From My Friends, One Night, Roxanne and Satisfaction. All of them get the crowd singing along in perfect call-response style. But to be fair, most of their original songs also get the crowd singing. I seem to be the only one here who doesn’t know most of the tunes in advance.
All the covers are great, except Satisfaction (The Rolling Stones). I don’t think the band manage (or maybe don’t even want) to capture the raw, sexual energy that someone like Mick Jagger can bring to a song. The original song is very sexualised, and Esben doesn’t add the sexuality to the song that it needs to thrive. They somehow make a sexual piece asexual, almost comical, and that treatment of this particular song doesn’t work for me. Brothers Moving are at their best when they can be a little bit silly and goofy – the life and soul of the party complete with costume changes, as illustrated by Esben changing his sweat-soaked t-shirt after a few songs. However, it doesn’t make much difference, as the second t-shirt gets soaked with sweat within a few more songs.
And this is symptomatic of the whole performance. No one can accuse Brothers Moving of being afraid to sweat and getting their hands dirty. There’s barely a moment of standing still, especially Aske, and Esben look exhausted when the concert ends. It has been not only a concert but also an athletic effort. It’s a band with undeniable energy and thirst for life, eager to share their positive vibes with anyone coming their way.
Patrick Wolf is a sick man. Braving the flu and a fever sweating through his pores, it’s a wonder he’s even here tonight. Employees have called in sick for less. But here he is, intent on getting on with the show – after all, as he says, the only gig he has ever called off was once, when a cancelled plane prevented him from travelling.
We arrive early, as we know from a previous gig at this venue (with Erland Cooper) that the venue is small and there’ll only be seats for the first-comers. We wait in the rain for 30 minutes; then, we sit in our seats for about an hour before the gig begins. I prefer concerts with numbered seats to avoid these kinds of queuing-waiting situations, but sometimes a concert-goer must grin it and bear it.
It’s not only the performer on stage who’s ill tonight. So is one of his audience members. Me. I am at the tail-end of a cold from hell and luckily the cough I’ve endured in the last few days has magically gone away in time for the concert and at this point, I’m just completely exhausted. Illness aside, this turns out to be a great concert. This is the fourth time I’ve seen Wolf live and the first time since 2012 at the Old Vic.
Has anything changed since then? Well, his physical appearance is different. I used to think of him as lean and lanky, but he’s beefed up since I last saw a picture of him. His hair hangs down like straggly threads that he repeatedly curls and pulls at during the concert. He’s dressed in a dark, kind-of-toga outfit, and his appearance instantly makes me think of Anhoni (formerly Antony of Antony and the Johnsons) – the resemblance, at least from the fifth row, is uncanny.
He pulls at his long, wiry hair throughout the concert. I usually wouldn’t write a whole paragraph about someone’s hair, but it gets to a point where I wish he would brush it behind his ears and just be done with it. It gets distracting after a while and makes you wonder if it’s all a studied pose or just hair hanging down inconveniently. Maybe it’s a nervous tick or some kind of ‘good luck’ ritual, like tennis player Rafael Nadal, who adjusts his hair before every ball of tennis he plays. But enough about hair.
My friend and I sit behind what we believe to be members of Patrick Wolf’s family, which results in him looking in our direction several times as if he’s singing to and smiling at us. Though it’s obviously his family members he’s looking at, it adds an extra sense of intimacy to some of the songs that he sings them seemingly aimed at us.
The concert begins with the overwhelming sound of a church organ playing on the level above and behind us. Everyone turns towards the sound, and moments later, Patrick Wolf enters the church from the entrance through which we all entered the venue earlier – let’s call it fashionably late. He walks towards the stage and sings with his dramatic baritone voice. Once safely on stage, he picks up his viola and starts playing and plucking away.
Despite a few technical problems here and there, some instruments that need tuning, and Wolf leaving the stage for ten minutes because he’s unwell, he sings and plays like a trouper. He’s so talented that a few hiccups won’t present too much of an obstacle. Though some songs sound unfocused, Wolf’s singing is mostly brilliant, and he plays his chosen instruments (guitar, autoharp, viola, piano) splendidly. It also seems to help him that his sidekick, Jack, is there. Aside from playing the piano, bass and organ, his mere presence seems to support Wolf enough to get him through the show.
Since Wolf doesn’t have a new album to promote, the gig is a hearty blend of old(er) songs. Tristan is played early in the set, but it isn’t the best version I’ve heard of this song, just played on viola. I think this song works best with the strong backbeat that tonight’s version lacks and not just plucking away on a stringed instrument. Having said that, I understand a musician’s urge to experiment with different ways of performing their songs.
Other songs, like Bluebells and Bermondsey Street (one of my favourites), are spot on in their beautiful execution. Wolf plays a moving and fragile Pigeon Song with romantic lines about going alone to the cinema and stealing food from Electric Avenue (in Brixton, South London).
Wolf gets emotional when he introduces a song that he associates with his mother, who passed away not so long ago. He strums the chords of a song by Sandy Denny, Who Knows Where the Time Goes?, and manages to sing a couple of verses before he stops himself. At first, it looks like the song is too emotional for him to sing, but he says he’ll have to leave the stage for a few minutes because he’s unwell and will be back to play some more songs. No one could fault him for stopping the concert at this time. Still, about ten minutes later, Jack returns to the stage and starts playing an introductory piano piece before announcing Patrick Wolf back to the stage to very appreciative applause.
The duo plays a few more songs, including one with Jack back on the organ. Patrick plays the last couple of songs solo on his viola. An alternative version of one of his dancier, more commercial songs, The Magic Position. This is not a song I like very much in the recorded version, but stripped down like this, the song has more depth. The clapping along from the audience doesn’t add much value to this song, but if clapping along feels supportive for the performer on stage, who am I to complain? The fact that Wolf’s voice has gotten croakier during the concert adds to the song’s urgency. After finishing The Magic Position, Wolf tells us, ‘That’s what that song sounds like when you have the flu.’
I don’t know how Patrick Wolf felt about tonight’s gig. It can’t be fun singing and playing and performing while ill. Maybe he got through on adrenaline (and Lucozade). Perhaps his love of playing music and being on stage is a comforting remedy in itself. Regardless, by the look of it, St Pancras Old Church was full of satisfied customers after tonight’s concert.
Patrick Wolf setlist (Note: This is the setlist as intended but some of the songs were played in a different order and a couple may not have been played) 1. Ghost Song 2. Teignmouth 3. Tristan 4. Jacob’s Ladder 5. Watcher 6. Blackdown 7. Hard Times 8. Bluebells 9. Bermondsey Street 10. The Days 11. Wind in the Wires 12. Damaris 13. Paris 14. Who Knows Where the Time Goes? (Sandy Denny cover – incomplete) 15. Theseus 16. Wolf Song Encore 17. The Sun is Often Out 18. Augustine 19. The Magic Position
It’s time for another Rough Trade East gig – a 1 pm lunchtime gig (‘the earliest Easy Life gig ever’) with quirky Leicester five-piece Easy Life, followed by a signing of their album, Junk Food.
They are playing again this evening so they could take the easy way out and treat this afternoon show as a rehearsal for the concert they’ll be playing in about six hours. But it certainly doesn’t feel like it. The band treats us to 11 songs played with great spirit and full engagement by the band members, not least of all frontman Murray Matravers, who has dressed like a hotdog for the occasion.
I don’t know any of the songs, so everything is new to me. I certainly didn’t expect to witness a hotdog singing a song about how we misuse the natural resources of our planet (Earth) but what I soon find out is that an hour in the company of Easy Life is an entirely positive and life-affirming experience.
They play a set of catchy songs with entertaining lyrics, and they sound great – a mix of hip hop, r&b and indie-synth. Some of the songs remind me of Rex Orange County and that’s not a bad thing. But more than anything, they’ve latched on to their unique tiny island, and their warm and sunny disposition betray their Midlands roots. No sign of rain or grey skies around this band.
Many of the songs have dark themes lyrically, but the music’s lightness balances out the darkness of the words. The audience is on point as backing vocalists on most songs, and the festive atmosphere increases whenever Matravers picks up a trumpet and joins in with keyboard player Sam Hewitt, who doubles on saxophone. These brief horn-section passages bring a jazzy feel to the set, and it would suit the band if they did that even more. The very mobile drummer, Oliver ‘Cass’ Cassidy, uses every opportunity he gets to walk to the front of the stage to survey the audience. He also goes behind the keyboard for one song while Sam is on saxophone duty.
Easy Life looks like a band with an overload of ‘pinch me to check if it’s just a dream’ moments. Towards the end of the set, Matravers exclaims proudly, and a little bit confused, ‘Junk Food is in the fucking top ten – how did that happen?’ The band finishes the set with their debut song, Pockets, which features the line, ‘I’m tryna to unlock doors with these musical keys.’ The answer to Matravers’ question is clear, this band’s ‘musical keys’ are opening doors all over the place, and their audience is receptive with open arms.
Easy Life setlist 1. Earth 2. Sunday 3. 7 Magpies 4. Nice Guys 5. Sangria 6. Temporary Love Part 2 7. OJPL 8. Dead Celebrities 9. Spiders 10. Nightmares 11. Pockets
I’m late for the party. But then again, I don’t follow the latest bands as much as I once did. But sometimes, word gets through about a ‘new sensation’ or upcoming potential legend in the making. I’d seen the name Fontaines D.C. here and there but hadn’t paid attention until I saw they were doing one of those performances at Rough Trade East that consists of a shortened gig and signing of the current record the band is promoting that time. In this case, Fontaines D.C. was promoting their debut album, Dogrel, and celebrating winning the title of Rough Trade’s Album of the Year.
As the group is still relatively new and only has one album’s worth of songs (plus a few extras) in their repertoire, their mini-gig at Rough Trade this evening, where they play eight tunes, is not that much shorter than their ‘real’ gigs, which seem to be only 3-4 songs longer, so it almost feels like we’re getting a whole gig. Nevertheless, it certainly made me want to check them out at a full concert in the future.
Fontaines D.C. is a unit of five young men from Ireland named after Johnny Fontaine from The Godfather. I don’t know if this implies they foresee themselves as failed entertainers, who have to use their mob connections and decapitated horse heads to try and revive their careers. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, and for now, at least, it certainly doesn’t look like it will.
The band is blessed with a charismatic frontman, Grian Chatten, who strikes a winning combination of studied pose and sincere quirkiness. He keeps staring at the bright light above him, sometimes hitting out at it as if feigning discomfort of being in the spotlight. His body movements alternate between an erratic boxer waiting for a fight and a bored child making faces and bouncing around. Perhaps this is how he gets himself in the ‘frontman zone’, by turning nervous energy into a confident swagger and staring out audience members with affected menace. Like any great frontman, he is intriguing to watch, and his extensive movements never happen at the expense of his expressive singing.
Fontaine D.C. have great songs. They are a part of a current crop of bands that have tapped into the sound and atmosphere (and look?) of bands like The Fall, Echo and the Bunnymen or Joy Division. It’s hard not to get the sense of having stepped into a soundscape of the alternative rock scene from the late seventies/early eighties.
Regardless, Fontaines D.C. comes across as current and new, as indeed the band is, and the band’s songs don’t feel like rip-offs. They got their own thing going on, and I’m sure the crowd agrees, from grey-haired Gen X’ers to fresh-faced Millennials.
Towards the end, there is some mild moshing going on, but nothing aggressive or violent. Is Polite Moshing a thing – ‘Poshing’ perhaps?
I am often not able to pick out lyrics from songs I don’t know (perhaps because of a lifelong reduced hearing on one ear), but when I look up the lyrics online afterwards, I can read what I couldn’t hear properly – these lyrics are excellent:
‘Dublin in the rain is mine, A pregnant city with a catholic mind, My childhood was small, But I’m gonna be big’ (Big).
‘A sell-out is someone who becomes a hypocrite in the name of money, An idiot is someone who lets their education do all their thinking… Charisma is exquisite manipulation, and money is a sandpit of the soul’ (Chequeless Reckless).
‘You’re so real, I’m a showreel, You work for money and the rest you steal’ (Sha Sha Sha).
The first line in the song, Too Real (‘The winter evening settles down’), references T.S. Eliot’s poem Preludes. On Boys in the Better Land, the band shout out to James Joyce, when Chatten belts out, ‘…and the radio is all about a runway model with a face like a sin and a heart like a James Joyce novel’.
The songs are like short tales with a Dublin backdrop, where raindrops of Romanticism pour down on the old town, only to disappear down the sewer of Realism. There’s a new song called Lucid Dream, in which Chatten appears to be rhyming ‘Voltaire’ with ‘Chair’ and ‘Despair’, but knowing my hearing, I might have got that wrong. I can only wait ’till the lyrics appear somewhere on the internet to find out. He could be rhyming ‘Robespierre’ with ‘Daycare’ and ‘Creme de la Mer’ for all I care.
In the first song of the set, Hurricane Laughter, Chatten informs the crowd repeatedly that there is ‘no connection available’, but he’s wrong; it’s clear that the connection between band and audience is loud and clear.
Fontaines D.C. setlist 1. Hurricane Laughter 2. Chequeless Reckless 3. Sha Sha Sha 4. Lucid Dream (new song) 5. Too Real 6. Liberty Belle 7. Boys in the Better Land 8. Big