Song, by Toad

This is just a brief list of some stuff I’m looking forward to in the Edinburgh music scene over the coming year.  I don’t intend to be parochial about this, or too narrow, but I am not as close to the precise ins and outs of what’s happening in the rest of the country so there’s a limit to what I can meaningfully say about what’s going on there.  It’s not meant to be exhaustive either, just some thoughts pottering about at the front of my mind.

New Labels

Last year saw the first steps made by a couple of new labels in Edinburgh, Kilter and Mini50.  With Song, by Toad Records virtually at capacity in terms of labour and money, and 17 Seconds and SL Records also really busy, these two new labels should have a pretty free hand in terms of first dibs on emerging bands this year.

Kilter have already showed the quality of their work with the beatiful eagleowl single in December, so in that sense they’re a slight step ahead.  Mini50 have been negotiating with some of the newer bands to emerge in the last year or so though, and album releases by the likes of Mammoeth should give a really solid foundation to their launch.  Basically, this is great news for the city’s young bands.

Jeffrey Lewis – Don’t Let the Record Label Take you out to Lunch

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The New Generation of Bands

Whilst I’m talking about the newer bands to emerge last year, there is a definite gap forming in the local musical ecosystem.  The fact that Broken Records and now Meursault and Withered Hand have graduated to an audience both nationwide and beyond leaves an opportunity for one of the new generation to make a mark locally.

With a single and an EP already to their name, Jesus H. Foxx are slightly further ahead in their development, but with the very promising emergence of bands like the Pineapple Chunks, Conquering Animal Sound and the Last Battle there is the opportunity for a band from the new generation to progress to the stage where they will obviously and easily be able to fill small venues like Sneaky Pete’s and whatever the Roxy management turn the old Bowery space into.

David Bowie – All the Young Dudes

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The New Roxy

And while we’re on the subject of the Roxy, Rupert Thomson, former Skinny editor, has been appointed to run the entire building in the new year.  I have a lot of time for Rupert, so I am really hopeful that he can carry on the development of what is pretty clearly the best gig space for small bands and promoters in the city.  In the absence of Ruth and Jane the place will inevitably have a very different atmosphere, but it is still easily the best space of its type around, so I really hope the new team can continue to foster the underground scene in the capital with the same kind of devotion and sympathy which Ruth brought to the place.  And very nice that they now have a one o’clock license, which is very fortuitous timing indeed for the new venture.

Tom Waits – New Coat of Paint (Live)

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Descent of the Digital Press Locusts

Last year saw the formation of so many new blogs in Scotland it made my head spin.  In fact it actually made me feel like an established veteran.  With respected indie publications like Bearded and Plan B swinging the axe on their print editions and also retreating to the web, we are getting closer to the American press model every day.

In the States there are basically no music magazines left, so labels and bands take blogs way, way more seriously, because we are pretty much the only people left who are addressing their audience.  In the UK there are still some excellent music magazines – Clash, Word, The Stool Pigeon and so on – but glossies like the NME, Q and Uncut are really becoming embarrassingly bad.  Personally I would be surprised if the year passed without a high profile music press casualty, which means that the playing field is unusually open for blogs and other digital publications.  And with the death of music television beyond the insultingly stupid X-Factor and its diseased ilk, pretty much the only music television which exists in the UK is now online.

This general trend could lead to a fairly considerable shift in how online publications are treated over the next year or so and, instead of being considered amateur or grassroots or DIY, we could end up being as close to mainstream as it actually gets in the indie world.

The Clash – Career Opportunities

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That Extra Step

Glasvegas were probably the last really big band to come out of Scotland, in terms of sheer audience size.  Frightened Rabbit, depending on their next album, could follow in their footsteps over the next twelve months.  Do any of the Edinburgh bands, I find myself wondering, have it in them to follow in their footsteps?  Are we likely to ever see the likes of Withered Hand, Meursault or Broken Records get anywhere near a late evening slot on the main stage at a major festival anytime soon?  It would be nice to think so, wouldn’t it.

Aileen Loy & Blue Valentines – Big in Japan

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It’s funny to note when you part ways with your gig-going peers. I went along to see X Lion Tamer and the Pineapple Chunks at the Electric Circus on Tuesday, perfectly confident that I would bump into people I knew at the gig. I rarely ever think twice about going to gigs by myself for two main reasons: partly because I am quite happy to be at a show by myself in the first place, because that means not having to apologise if it’s shit; and partly because I am pretty confident that at most shows I am going to bump into someone I know anyway.

That’s not always the case, however. I recently went to see Barry Adamson and was surrounded by a very different crowd than usual, and last night at Sneaky Pete’s the same thing happened: an older crowd, not one of whom I recognised.

That’s no real issue, of course, because that really isn’t why I go to gigs. In this case, I have seen the Willard Grant Conspiracy three times before, and all three times have been drastically different gigs, which sort of makes the songs feel like old friends. You’ve seen them in their garage rock phase, their vulnerable acoustic phase and their grandiose orchestral phase and I really think that helps you get to know a song a lot more intimately than you might otherwise.

The performance at Sneaky Pete’s was happily intimate for a venue which I’d tend to describe as a grungy indie club. The stage lights were out of commission so the only light available was a still image from the projector, which happened to really suit the atmosphere. The band and some of the audience were seated, which further added to the relaxed ambience, and Robert Fisher’s relaxed, friendly way with an audience brought a feeling of calm and contentment to everyone. No-one talked through the performance, either. I liked that.

Given the shifting membership of the Willard Grant Conspiracy you rarely get the same gig twice, and the songs don’t seem to exist in any pre-defined sense, more as a collection of ideas which drift around loosely in one another’s company until they are pulled out out of the ether by a performance, coalescing around whatever arrangement of musicians happens to draw them out at the time.

This setup was based around fiddle, a second guitar and a female backing singer, a couple of whom were drawn from support band The Doghouse Roses, who I unfortunately arrived too late to see. It was a simple arrangement, and one which presented Fisher’s warm, enveloping songs with a satisfying lack of artifice. The band embellished enough to bring depth to the sound, and the fiddle was gorgeous, but at its core this was a very stripped back acoustic performance.

The set was something of a greatest hits collection, closely related to the recent release of Paper Covers Stone, an album of minimalistically re-worked versions of existing WGC tunes, suggesting that there are songs amongst his canon for which Fisher himself has a notable preference. His voice shifts gear dramatically from thunderous to intimate and sitting close up in a small venue it has amazing impact. You can never tell if he is furiously angry with the world, or trying to sympathetically console it for its woes, but the emotion is powerful and unavoidable in a Willard Grant Conspiracy set, whatever the setup.

Between that and the unexpectedly cosy atmosphere in Sneaky Pete’s I found myself split between wishing that some of my other music friends had been there to see it, and quietly pleased to have such a wonderful gig to enjoy by myself.

Willard Grant Conspiracy – Notes From the Waiting Room

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Willard Grant Conspiracy – Fare Thee Well

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It’s funny, during the recent rise and rise of Sparrow & the Workshop I have started to wonder slightly, why them?  That’s not supposed to be a criticism of the band, because I think they’re brilliant, but there are a lot of good bands around these parts at the moment, and Sparrow’s current upward trajectory is probably the steepest.  Consequently, I had begun to wonder what it was about them in particular which seemed to capture the imagination of pretty much everyone.

Well on Friday I got my answer.  The circumstances were not the easiest, exactly: Sneaky Pete’s was like a bloody sauna, and recent sound complaints meant that the band had to make a few last minute adjustments and rearrange their set quite considerably.

Having been preceded by Randan Discotheque, a band who have never really captured my imagination I must confess, Sparrow & the Worlshop opened with a new song which was frankly bloody gorgeous.  A lot of bands seem to be able to generate an intial flurry of good material, but I always find it telling when they start writing after that initial burst, because a lot can’t manage it.  A band whose new material is consistently this good are clearly onto something.

The more acoustic setup – with three acoustic guitars, a single snare drum and cymbal, and a stomp-box instead of a bass drum – worked really well.  They even managed to add to their percussion by taping a tiny mic to Nick’s guitar and asking him to flick the end of it to fill out the higher end, which took some spotting, but was a really nice piece of improvisation.

In terms of the music, I think I even preferred some of the songs played this way.  Nick is clearly chanelling the spirit of the late Johnny Cash at the moment, and the sound he is making with his guitar is amazing.  With the quieter set the vocals could become a little less combative, allowing Jill’s voice to lose some of its fierceness and simply be lovely for an evening.  When all three were playing guitar there was a rich, confidently quiet aura to the performance which was really quite special.

I’ve seen Sparrow play with aggression in the past, and it’s a great sight to see.  This time, however, they were playing to a very appreciative crowd, and one they know quite well, and the more relaxed, low key approach this engendered brought a warm, generous spirit to the set and made this month’s This is Music one of the best gigs I have been to all year.  Truly brilliant.

Sparrow & the Workshop – The Gun

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I have been a big fan of Yusuf Azak since I first heard his recent EP, Light Procession, last year but I’ve yet to even have the chance to see him live.  I was, therefore, really looking forward to this lineup, not least because it also included Edinburgh’s favourite mercurial musical maniac Enfant Bastard.

Yusuf’s recorded material is heavily layered and full of effects, so I was really curious to see how this would translate to what was the most basic solo acoustic setup: him, his acoustic guitar, and nothing else.  The result was that one thing remained constant: his voice; and another emerged from the shadows to take centre stage: his guitar playing.

There is a really warm breathiness to his singing voice which is instantly captivating.  He doesn’t have the hoarse growl of a barroom bourbon guzzler, exactly, nor the hushed grumble of an ageing bluesman, more accurately he sings with a really easy, scratched and yet somehow also honeyed charisma.  Some voice, anyway, however you describe it.

The guitar playing is another genuine highlight.  I don’t have the technical knowledge to know whether or not what he was doing was difficult, but it fucking well looked it, and more importantly it sounded amazing.  I don’t know how much of his style comes from his Turkish (I think – sorry Yusuf, if I’m wrong) heritage and how much comes from the acoustic influences he cites, such as Eliot Smith or Nick Drake, but it sounds faintly exotic in any case, and makes for a superb combination with his vocals.

For something as basic as a bloke with an acoustic guitar, this felt like a band gig, somehow.  It was a great performance which was enveloped in a strangely self-contradictory aura of shyness and confidence, and one which makes me really want to see him play again. For those outside the half-dozen or so people in this audience, missing this gig was a mistake which you should rectify as soon as possible

Yusuf Azak – 19.19

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Yusuf Azak – The Key Underground

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I am a newcomer, relatively, to the work of Owen Ashworth and chums, having only really become properly acquainted with his work on the release of Etiquette a couple of years ago.  This makes me something of a Johnny Come Lately as far as more dedicated fans are concerned, which is no big deal, but also insofar as his music is concerned, which is more significant.

Etiquette was the first time Casiotone broke away from their eponymous bleepery and truly embraced a more full band sound, which shook the fanbase up a little and made them perhaps a little more palatable to a broader audience.  Including me.

I am not in any way against bare-bones, deadpan music, as any regular reader will know, but this gig almost felt like a microcosm of the neophyte’s journey into the Owen Ashworth canon.  The first half of the show was just the man himself, and an array of equipment somewhat reminiscent of an eighties science fiction set.  For me, this part fell slightly flat.  Not bad, don’t get me wrong, it was enjoyable, just it didn’t seem to be bringing anything else to the party.  I think that the reason for this is probably one of the chief dangers with the use of electronics in a live situation: there is no difference between the sound of a synth played recklessly and one played with metronomic precision.

Consequently, when the guitar and drums came out to play, there seemed to be just a little more character and immediacy to the performance.  There was more room, I guess, for an actual performance, as opposed to a recital.  This opinion may offend the Casiotone purists, but this is my over-riding impression from this gig.

Then again, it may just be the sort of music that builds on you slowly, no matter what the arrangement.  I remember seeing the Arcade Fire in Glasgow a few years ago and it was the same.  At the beginning I felt a little flat, but by the end I was completely caught up in the show: this was just like that.  So maybe the line of reasoning laid out above is valid, and maybe it’s just pish made up to explain the fact that I thought the gig started slowly, but by the end was entirely captivating and an altogether brilliant night.  Me talking pish?  Nah, surely not.

Casiotone For the Painfully Alone – Bobby Malone Moves Home

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Casiotone For the Painfully Alone – Optimist vs. The Silent Alarm (When the Saints Go Marching In)

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