Song, by Toad

In my last review of Mumford & Sons I said that they had that something about them that says pretty loud and clear to me that they have the capacity to become big. I stand by that impression, and I will add to it: I think they might just have the capacity to do what Noah & the Whale signally failed to do, which is break out of the London indie-folk scene and gain mainstream recognition, without necessarily harming their appeal amongst the grass-roots fans who first supported them.

The four-part harmonies are genuinely powerful – they really hit you, grab you by the cockles and make you want to throw your arms in the air and sing along. This kind of euphoric giddiness is, I think, what makes me say that they could indeed go on to be very successful. A bigger group needs a capacity to fill a big venue, and I have little doubt that these boys have got it.

A bigger group also needs to be able to write songs that aren’t too ‘difficult’, ones that everyone can get without having to be trained into a specific sound, and I think they succeed here too. The roaring harmonies have strong gospel flavours, which brings a more immediate impact to their sound than might the English folk sound on which it is often based. The combination is heady.

Strategic record industry analysis aside, this was a brilliant show. Marcus Mumford’s voice is the centre-piece in many ways, alternately bellowed at you full-throated or snarled out of the corner of his mouth as if he wanted to kill every last member of the audience. But banjo-wielding Winston is perhaps just as important, partly for the reckless pace a banjo brings to music in general, and also for having an equally powerful and charismatic voice to add to the mixture.

This choral gospel swell, to which many of their songs ascend, does leave you with the impression that you have just attended a spiritual of some description rather than a gig. White Blank Page is enough to curl your toes back on themselves in delight, and it is not alone in their canon in being able to conjure that kind of emotion.

These lads are good. Bloody good. I really, really hope the songs can sustain this kind of level, because they only have a four-track downloadable EP for the time being, available here, and there is never any certainty of continued excellence when a group is this fresh out of the box. So for now, I guess what we have is a small number of amazing songs, some genuine potential and a live experience that is nothing short of euphoric. Brilliant stuff.

Dylan has some fantastic pictures from the gig, such as the one above, available on Blueback Hotrod.

Mumford & Sons – White Blank Page
Mumford & Sons – Hold On to What You Believe

Barry Adamson is nine albums into a lengthy career that has included collaboration with such luminaries as Nick Cave, David Lynch and Howard Devoto. He’s written soundtracks, made records, and god knows what else, but I read in The List that this is his first tour? First?? Bugger me!

It was pricey, I have to be honest, and nineteen quid was too much for what we saw. I love some of Adamson’s stuff, but he is a little patchy. King of Nothing Hill really wasn’t a very good album – all the venom and menace neutered – and I have heard that the new one isn’t very good either, although I have yet to listen to it enough to form my own opinion. That said, he has at least three brilliant albums to his name, and when his particular brand of cinematic jazz noir is good, it is truly brilliant, so I thought why not chance it.

In the end, I really enjoyed myself, but I wouldn’t say I was in raptures. It’s completely unfair to judge someone on the strength of their first tour, especially someone so trepidatious that they wait this long to pop the cherry, so I think some leeway is called for in evaluating this gig. In the end, though, I think the live show was just a little loungey, which kind of stripped the music of some of the slightly theatrical malevolence which it oozes in recorded form.

Ultimately, Adamson’s music is pretty experimental most of the time and, despite the evident proficiency of the band, it ended up slightly anaesthetised. It was a bit like watching an action movie with no swearing, in some ways, because I knew the attitude was in there somewhere. This all makes it sound like I had a bad gig, which I didn’t. I enjoyed myself, and I really enjoyed the show, it’s just that I know there’s more and I ended up trying not to spend most of the evening waiting for it.

Barry Adamson – Jazz Devil
Barry Adamson – Deja Voodoo
Barry Adamson – My Friend the Fly

On a very thin week of gigs indeed, I was pointed in the direction of this one by Billy from Spins ‘n’ Needles, in his capacity as roving Drowned in Sound Anointed Bloodhound of Musical Excellence. Apart from a bit of cursory MySpacery beforehand I had precisely no knowledge of Isosceles before this gig, but I was certainly optimistic. Their MySpace songs are a sprightly bunch – heavily overlapping with that spasmodic, angular guitar indie-pop accompanied by plenty of low-fi synth that seems so popular at the moment. There’s a bit more to them though, because they seem to combine enough old school rock ‘n’ roll influences to make their sound distinctive enough to be interesting.

Before that, however, late withdrawals meant another chance to see local Toad favourites Meursault. No electronics this time, as in previous gigs, so they performed with just a banjo, uke and guitar to bring the rhythms over which Neil Pennycook’s yowl leaps like the curse of impending pestilence. I liked the acoustic setup actually (very Toad Session-friendly, hint hint!) and I reckon you can probably stick them right at the top of my list of Edinburgh bands you haven’t heard but should have. I’m guessing neither Broken Records nor Found count as secrets anymore. Get in touch via MySpace and demand that they get their shit in gear and send you a copy of their album. I’d be amazed if it doesn’t make the Toad Top 1o come the end of 2008.

Meursault – The Dirt & the Roots[audio http://www.matthewjamesyoung.com/sbt/Meursault-TheDirtandtheRoots.mp3]

On to Isosceles, and the joy simply continued. There is nothing that I would describe as particularly innovative about this group. Jerky, punchy guitars with synths and slightly shouty dual harmonies are as common at the moment as a disappointing blind date, but I think I would elevate these guys above the sizable herd with whom they run. Listening to their recorded tunes on MySpace, there’s something flatter about the music than there is live. On stage good indie-pop songs are turned into bloody excellent ones, largely due to be being played with the sort of genuine zest and life that few bands seem capable of.

Lead singer Jack Valentine is genuinely charismatic – so into it he looks a bit mental half the time – and manages to put in an a performance that is exciting and really engaging, without ever looking remotely like rock star posturing. William Aikman on keys puts in a valiant effort too, to the extent that I would perhaps suggest that his constant ability to surprise might be what picks this band out from their peers as special. But that would ignore the bass player, whose riffs are absolutely central to more than a few Isosceles songs. And as for the drummer, well I’m afraid I barely got past the other three to know, but given the extent to which this lot clearly are a band, in the most unified sense of the word, I assume he must have been excellent as well.

They have a single out in a little while on Art Goes Pop, a Leeds based indie label, I believe, who have released stuff by the Low Miffs and Popup in the past, so they definitely have a nose for quality Scottish indie-pop bands. I’d probably buy it just for the artwork (above) which is very nicely done indeed, but in any case, Watertight and Kitch Bitch (spelling notwithstanding) are two of their standout songs so there’s no excuse really. So for all I wouldn’t describe myself as giddy about this band, I reckon they have the capacity to be very good indeed.

Isosceles – Isosceles
Isosceles – Watertight