17th November 2011: Yes - HMV Hammersmith Apollo, Hammersmith

And so, with much delay, we come to the last of my gigs before what will become a rather unpleasant musical hiatus. Who knew ears could bring so much displeasure? I will soon discover what it's like to not be able to hear very much, but that's a story for another time.


On the 17th of November I'm once again sitting at work when I realise there are two gigs that evening in my gig calendar. No, I don't have tickets for either, which is why I've forgotten about them - but I've marked out two possibilities: Guillemots at Xoyo in Islington, and Yes at the Hammersmith Apollo. The two gigs couldn't be more different, frankly. Young, trendy, popular band at small intimate venue, with cheap tickets, or positively cretaceous, terminally unhip band at enormodome, with prices to match.


It's a tricky decision (no, really), firstly because I've seen Guillemots only a few months previously at an even smaller and even cheaper venue, and it's been 7 years since I saw Yes. Secondly because I figure that Guillemots need my money more than Yes do (although if Yes keep leaving disgruntled members behind, then their lawyers might put paid to that theory), and lastly, and frankly clinchingly (yes, that's a word), I've been fighting off a horrible cold for a couple of days and I'm not convinced I can stand up for several hours.


So, I get on the phone to the Hammersmith Box office to see if there's anything left worth having, and what do you know, there's a seat right there in row 5 of the stalls with my name on it. (Not literally, that'd be a bit weird, although it'd be an excellent trick. Might suggest it to Derren Brown.) *Cough* quid later and I'm on my way. If only it were always this easy to get the good seats, I might give up the ritual frustration of the Ticketmaster website at 9am on sale day and take my chances at the last minute every time.

The excellent thing about seated gigs is that you can show up about 5 minutes before show time, go right to your seat and watch the show. That's also the slightly rubbish thing about them, though. I'm a glutton for punishment and somehow don't feel like I've built up enough anticipation if I've not stood up for 3 hours listening to someone's awful mix tape whilst waiting for the main event. (The pay off is even better if you've stood through a terrible band who once got single of the week on Achingly Hip FM but can't play live to save their... um, lives. Superb example - The Big Pink supporting Muse. God that was awful.)


Anyway, I'm not quite sure how long it's going to take me to get there, so I head off as soon as I can, and then find myself arriving at the venue a full hour before the gig. With nothing much better to do, I decide to grab a Pepsi and a pipe of Pringles (a little one, obviously), and make my way to my seat. Arriving in a gigantic auditorium with about 3 other people and sitting there consuming my little snacks, I feel like I've turned up to the cinema to watch a film that no-one else wants to see. 

This must be a really crap film. Like Saw 13 or something.

It's not entirely inappropriate, given that Yes will tonight play a song called 'Life on a Film Set', the fact that they were once briefly called 'Cinema', and, oh yeah, that the Hammersmith Apollo started out life as a cinema. In fact it doesn't even try to disguise this fact, and it's all the better for it, with the vintage decor (and seats) still intact, it's an extremely grand venue and host to many legendary gigs over the years under its former name of the Hammersmith Odeon.


The snacks don't last too long, so I spend the next 45 minutes looking at rubbish on the internet on my phone and debating with my Facebook friends whether the man who sits down a couple of rows in front of me is one of the Chuckle Brothers (sadly, the consensus is that it's not - see what you think.)

Starship To-you-per

I last saw Yes in 2004, at which point the revolving door of members had spun back round to the "classic" 70s line-up including both "Accrington Pixie" Jon Anderson and Countdown regular and Grumpy Old Man Rick Wakeman. 

Having thoroughly enjoyed that gig, whilst still hanging onto the sneaking suspicion that they were already past their best, I'd decided that that would be my one and only Yes gig. I've therefore watched from the sidelines with some amusement as the band cycle through Rick Wakeman's various sons on keyboards and then take the bizarre step of replacing their lead vocalist with a soundalike from a tribute band. No, really. With no new album since 2001, things have been looking rather dismal for the band, until in the middle of the year my interest is piqued by the news of another line-up change, with keyboard and vocoder maestro Geoff Downes and production god Trevor Horn back in the fold for the first time since 1980 (the first time Anderson left), and a new album of original material, 'We Can Fly From Here'.

Form an orderly queue, ladies.

That album actually proves to be rather good, possibly the best since 1980's 'Drama' and most certainly the best since 1994's 'Talk', so the chance to hear some tracks from both the new album and 'Drama' (unplayed since Anderson rejoined the band in 1984) is the main reason I've come along this evening. And also to see just how much like Jon Anderson the new singer can possibly be.


Things get off to an exciting enough start with the obligatory grand orchestral opening before the band take to the stage. This year it's Benjamin Britten's "Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra" which is suitably rousing to get everyone all fired up in anticipation. And then, band in place, the show begins.

Dum du-dur- duuuuuur, goes the instantly recognisable opening riff of 'Yours is No Disgrace', from 1971's 'The Yes Album'. Or rather, Dum. *tumbleweed* du-dur. *glaciers form and melt* Durrrrrrr. Ok, I'm exaggerating slightly, but it seems like somebody forgot to wind up the band before they stepped out on stage. This will be something of a theme for the evening, but I suppose it's something that's to be expected for a band which has been around since the late 60s and whose drummer is now 62 years old.


In any case, it's a good opener and a chance to take a look at the band in its current incarnation. On Bass guitar and angelic harmony vocals, sole remaining founder member Chris Squire. Chris is the one reason why there will always be a Yes, and a personal hero of mine, if only for the fact that he once released a Christmas album called 'Chris Squire's Swiss Choir'. Chris is still on fine form, with his trademark harmonies still very much intact, and Rickenbacker technique undiminished.

Excellent photo very much not my own - thank you
Matthew Becker, whoever you may be!

On stage left, Steve Howe who, whilst not being a founder member, has been in the band since 1970 so is very much part of the classic line-up. Despite having looked a hundred years old since about 1990, Steve's still very animated on stage, hopping about a bit whilst playing, and even, during the opening number, breaking out into a little run across the stage (as much as his guitar cord - or is it a life support cable? - will allow.) Steve plays acoustic and electric guitars (occasionally propped up on a stand so his poor bones don't have to carry the weight), as well as his trademark pedal steel on songs like 'And You And I'. 

On drums, Alan White, another member of the classic line-up, who joined the band in 1972. I'm a bit concerned by the fact that looks like he's in constant pain while playing, as if every beat is taking a horrific toll on his body, however I'm watching a 2001 DVD as I write this and he looks pretty much the same, so I have to assume that he'd hang up the sticks if that were really the case. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason for the slower tempos on the old songs may have something to do with Alan. You know, with me being a professional musician and all, obviously I'm in a position to make such judgements... *ahem.*

Thanks to Mike Godwin on Flickr.

And so to the "new" guys. On stage right, with flowing golden locks which blow in the wind like a Pantene commercial, Geoff Downes. A former Buggle, member of Asia and Yes veteran of several months in the 80s, Geoff is a keyboard whizz with proper stacks of keyboards, which he plays in the agreed prog fashion with one hand on either side of him (none of this poncy "play the entire set on one keyboard with a laptop connected" for Geoff.) He also gives us a masterclass on vocoder use on the excellent 'Tempus Fugit' from 1980's 'Drama' album which is very much Buggles-meet-Yes. Oh and he wears a brilliant red velvet jacket which makes him look like he got lost on the way to the Sgt. Pepper album cover.

And a keytar!! We'll come to that later. Thanks Michael Greenway, by the way.

And lastly, the real new guy. Benoit David is the youngster of the band at just 45, and has been singing with Yes since 2008, when the band needed someone to cover for Jon Anderson for a short tour and spotted him on YouTube singing with a tribute band. Subsequently, when Anderson was better, they decided that they liked Benoit better and carried on with him instead of getting Jon back. You couldn't make this stuff up, you really couldn't. Anyway, a lot has been made of the fact that Benoit sings just like Jon, which he does, in a way. I'm not honestly sure whether he naturally sings like this (which I hope) , or he puts it on for Yes gigs (which I suspect), but he manages to sound like both Anderson on the old stuff, Trevor Horn on the 'Drama' songs, and, well, a mix of both on the material from the new album. He also bangs his tambourine a lot, talks to the audience a little bit, and dances/hops around the stage in an amusing circular pattern, after which I expect him to lose his balance and go careering into Alan White's drums but somehow doesn't.

The second song of the evening is the aforementioned Drama track 'Tempus Fugit' complete with swirling psychedelic Yes logos on the backdrop when Geoff Downes does his vocoder 'Yes, yes...' chorus, which is good fun and goes down well, then they move on to 'I've Seen All Good People', which, according to the notes I make at the time is 'pedestrian'. Wow, evidently I'm enjoying myself a lot. 


Unfortunately, the overall impression which I can't escape is that the 70's tracks are really lacking Jon Anderson. Benoit does a good enough job, but singing so much like Anderson is always going to invite comparisons, and on this showing he just can't hit the notes with the same consistency that his predecessor did. His voice has the right qualities but, whether he's just having an off night or it's a bigger problem than that, it's just not as strong. 'And You and I', in particular, just isn't up to scratch (for me.) Added to the slowed down tempos, if I was just there to witness the classic 70's Yes material, I think I'd be leaving massively disappointed.


But, of course, I'm not, and things perk up a lot with the first of tonight's songs from the new album, 'Life on a Film Set', during which the band comes alive and everyone seems a bit more comfortable. A quick Steve Howe solo acoustic spot (I'd expect nothing less) gets a terrific crowd reaction, before another classic track, 'Heart of the Sunrise' where the band are absolutely on fire but Benoit really seems to be struggling with tuning issues.


And then they leave the stage and there's a proper old-fashioned intermission with ice cream salespeople with little trays and everything. Brilliant. I only wish the safety curtain had come down in front of the stage for maximum cinema nostalgia. 


I'm half wondering whether my cold will let me make it through the whole gig, when the lights dim, and the intro to 'Fly from Here', the epic title track of the new album, begins playing. (Incidentally my phone autocorrects the song's title to 'Flu from Here' which is rather more apposite given my rapidly diminishing health.) As soon as the band come back on and the song kicks off properly, I'm right there with them, and the gig kicks up another gear. 

Robbed of the opportunity to moan about dragging tempos or incorrect vocalists, I can concentrate on what I'm actually seeing, and they put in an excellent performance of the track which warrants the price of admission all by itself. Benoit seems a lot more at ease and hits the notes comfortably, and the rest of the band all seem to be having fun too. Even the backdrop changes from classic 70's Roger Dean album cover designs to some more modern footage of planes and airports. Full marks all round, and the audience roars appropriately.



It's followed up by 70's "Hit Single" 'Wondrous Stories', which is greeted by surprisingly polite applause, and then by the double whammy of 'Into the Storm', the highlight of the new album, and 'Machine Messiah', the highlight of the Drama album and the song which single-handedly invented neo-prog. All is forgiven. Benoit handles the vocals with aplomb, no-one seems to be about to fall asleep, and Geoff's hair is still shiny.


Of course, we can't be allowed to leave without a couple more hoary old chestnuts, so out comes 'Starship Trooper', during which Geoff Downes dons a keytar and heads out onto the stage to rock out with the others, something which ends up in the bizarre spectacle of the 4 non-drummers in the band in a line on the stage doing what can only be described as a 'Status Quo Dance'.

This photo is not from Hammersmith, which is worrying.
They obviously thought this was a good idea more than once.

And of course, we can't leave without having 'Roundabout' as an encore, which is nice and all but I'm immensely distracted by the guy a few rows in front, standing right in front of the right hand speaker stack, staring directly at it and dancing like an absolute lunatic. Nice to see people enjoying themselves but I can't help but feel that substances are involved somewhere along the line.


All in all, I leave happy. There's a good chance that if there is a next time, the line-up will again be different and the 'Fly from Here' and 'Drama' material will be off-limits, so I'm glad I've taken the opportunity to see this while I can. I do suspect that this actually *will* be the last time I see Yes, though. 


Yes Setlist:


Yours is No Disgrace
Tempus Fugit
I've Seen All Good People
Life on a Film Set
And You And I
Steve Howe Solo (Solitaire / Trambone)
Heart of the Sunrise


---Ice Cream---


Fly From Here
Wondrous Stories
Into the Storm
Machine Messiah
Starship Trooper


---Encore---


Roundabout

13th November 2011: Opeth & Pain of Salvation: O2 Academy, Brixton

And so we come to yet another of the many gigs which Karin and I have booked in a huge ticket grabbing frenzy some months ago. Is it me, or is just about everyone on tour most of the time now? Not that I'm complaining- it's just that eventually you run out of money, or (as in this evening's case), you book so many gigs in a short space of time that by the time the latter ones come around, you can't be bothered to go any more. I remember the good old days when I bought a ticket for one gig a year and then spent the next 10 months waiting for it to come round. It was like Christmas, only with fewer sprouts.


Case in point, I'm actually starting to blog this from my phone, whilst sitting on a train on my way to another gig. This is the only way I can keep up. Such are the trials of the modern music fan.


Anyway, as we've already established, I'm ever so slightly gigged out, and Karin and I have also spent a very nice day walking about in Greenwich with my sister Helen, at the end of which I nod off on the sofa. This is hardly the correct start to a rocktastic evening.

But the tickets have been bought, and there's the small matter of getting Karin to her much-anticipated first Pain of Salvation gig, so there's no way we're going home. Arriving at the Brixton Academy (another O2 buyout), we are amused beyond belief to note that the "O2 Priority Queue" is actually longer than the other, non corporate sellout queue. We chuckle mightily for 25 minutes while we watch the other poor saps disappearing round the corner into what is by now a never ending line of gig goers.


And then it becomes apparent that we are standing in the ticket collection only queue. We briefly contemplate waiting and getting to the front of this line and then playing dumb and seeing if they will let us in anyway, but decide it's not worth the risk, so we wearily head round to the other queue, which is for both O2 priority customers and regular ones. So, huge priority those lucky O2 customers got, then.


By now the snake of long haired, black clothed metallers is stretching all the way down the long side of the venue, and indeed when we turn the corner, we realise that it also stretches along the short end and round the next corner too. We are just considering carrying on round yet another corner and getting back in the ticket collection queue when we eventually find the end and take our place between a bunch of hardcore metal fans and a guy who seems to be completely stoned, who when we apologise for pushing in front of him, says "It's ok man, I just want to chill."


In actual fact, things don't turn out too badly- we're inside within 30 minutes and manage to get a reasonable standing spot thanks to the eminently sensible architect who decided that if several thousand people were going to stand on the floor and watch something at the other end of the room, it might help to angle the floor downwards. Full marks that man. Or woman, let's not be sexist.


Of course, they didn't also think that it might not be the world's best idea to put the only toilets right at the front of the venue either side of the stage, thereby forcing you to barge your way through the entire crowd to go and relieve yourself of the £2.95 bottle of water they've sold you earlier. Oh well, can't think of everything.


We're not standing there long when the lights dim and some weird troll-like voices start singing in Swedish. Most people look bemused but Karin starts giggling and then pockets of the audience also start to guffaw loudly... Apparently the troll people are calling us all the names under the sun, and there are all kinds of weird jokes about mustard gas and things, which I'm sure make sense if you only get 2 hours of Daylight in winter. When the singing stops, there's slightly bemused applause and then Pain of Salvation kick off their set.

Pain of Salvation started out life as a Prog Metal band creating bizarre concept albums about all kinds of topics from the history of the world to war, sex, and the environment. Wikipedia says that "Their sound is characterised by powerful, accentuated guitar work, broad vocal range, abrupt switching between heavy and calm passages, intense syncopation, and polyrhythmic experimentation." - and I definitely don't disagree with that, up until the last couple of years. Their last two albums, 'Road Salt One' and 'Road Salt Two', whilst again being concept albums, have toned down both the prog and the metal to the point that they are now have a more blues rock-ish sound and focus more on conventional song structures. One of their new songs, Road Salt, was very nearly Sweden's entry to last year's Eurovision song contest. Yes, really.

With the new sound comes a new look. Frontman and PoS mastermind Daniel Gildenlöw is now almost unrecognisable from the 6th form computer nerd who some of you may have seen playing in the shadows on Transatlantic's 'Live In Europe' DVD from 2001.

Mr Gildenlöw, with what Karin describes as "his Bon Jovi hair"

These days, Daniel looks every inch the rock star and parades around the stage like he really believes it, which, when you can sing like he can, I think you're entitled to do. With an incredible range and power, he's a truly impressive vocalist whether he's belting out a rocker like 'Linoleum' or going back to the more introspective growling of the haunting 'Ashes', one of their early classics. With great hair comes great confidence, apparently, as he tries to work up the crowd a bit by getting us to cheer for something, rating our efforts according to the country he thinks we've surpassed in our loudness. Our first attempt warrants a "Good evening, Sweden", but unfortunately we never really make it beyond "Hello, Germany!"


Not that the rest of the band are shy and retiring, oh no. The second guitarist, for instance, rips off his shirt after a couple of numbers and flings his dreadlocks around whilst jumping on and off the speakers. 

Semi-naked dreadlock guy not pictured.

With the majority of the set being taken from the two Road Salt albums, there's not much for the hardcore metallers present to get their teeth into, with the possible exception of the always-excellent 'Fandango' from my favourite PoS album, 'Remedy Lane'. This may explain, but definitely does not excuse, the constant chattter of Opeth fans throughout the entire gig, even prompting Daniel to whisper "Shhhhhhh" whilst trying to kick off a quiet number.


And, with barely any warning at all, the band finish one number and then they're suddenly leaving the stage, almost at if they're not ready to stop playing but someone has pulled the plug. I do hope this isn't the case - as they've definitely not been playing long enough for my liking, and UK gigs are a huge rarity. Hopefully they'll be back for a headline slot next year some time.

And so to Opeth. I've actually been concerned about this evening's gig because I am not the world's biggest fan of metal, and Opeth are most definitely a metal band with proper thrashing and 'Cookie Monster' vocals and everything. Or are they? This year's 'Heritage' album definitely sees the band moving away from this overtly metal sound in favour of a more retro, prog feel with proper vocals, mellotrons and acoustic guitars (influenced partly, I'm sure, by frontman Mikael Åkerfeldt working with Steven Wilson.)

It should come as no surprise, then, that this evening's gig, where the band play the vast majority of 'Heritage', is a much more sedate affair than previous tours - however, a surprise it does seem to be to much of the crowd. 

We've retreated slightly by now, fearing a proper moshpit. Sadly such a thing never happens.

They kick off with a couple of tracks from the new album, including opener 'The Devil's Orchard' and people seem to be enjoying it, but after a while I hear a few people shout "Louder!", and the level of chat starts to escalate. Things get back on track with a song from 1999's 'Still Life' album, which goes down well, and things start to get a bit more metal (still no growling or moshing, though). Unfortunately the man with the world's biggest hair decides to come and stand right in front of me at this point, and I have no choice but to walk away and find a spot right out of the action, for fear of punching him in his annoyingly coiffed head. 


After a couple more tracks from 'Heritage', there's a quite rocking song which I do enjoy but for some reason the band insert a drum solo into it which goes on for ages, and as Karin points out, he's not Neil Peart. Once this is over, the band decide to take it down a notch, stools come out, and there's an acoustic interlude. I have to hand it to Mikael Åkerfeldt and his sense of humour - as soon as the acoustic guitar comes out, he starts strumming the chords to George Michael's 'Faith' and somehow gets the entire crowd singing along with him. "I only played a couple of chords - you knew all the words!" he ribs us when we all collapse in fits of giggles.

All together now... "Kum-ba-yah my lord..."

Evidently this section of the gig completely befuddles the Opeth fans because their chatter goes into overdrive. At one point (during a rather nice song which Mike introduces as being from a video game soundtrack from 1994), Karin actually feels moved to go over and ask some guys to shut up so she can hear the band playing, at which point they get angry and I end up stepping in to tell them to back off (not that I actually need to for her sake, I just feel I want to, since I don't think I've ever defended any woman's honour in my life and I think it's about time.)


This puts me in an even worse mood than giant afro-man and, at this point, the band could play Boney M songs for the rest of the night and I probably wouldn't notice. There are a couple more from 'Heritage', which are enjoyable enough, and then Karin's favourite Opeth track, 'A Fair Judgement' from 2002's 'Deliverance' album, which most definitely gets the crowd going at last, but by the time this is over, we're ready to head to the back of the hall, from where we watch a little bit of 'Haxprocess' from 'Heritage' and decide to go and beat the rush for the tube.

On the way to the station, I notice a few other Opeth fans doing the same thing, and they all seem a bit subdued. "I was a bit disappointed", says one. Honestly, so was I. Whilst I'm not really a metal person, I've been looking forward to seeing what it's like to be in amongst the crowd at a metal gig when the band are really going for it - and those moments have been quite few and far between this evening. I can't help wondering whether, in picking all 'clean vocals' tracks from their catalogue to go with the feel of the new material, they've denied themselves the chance to play some of their best songs. 


And I was really intrigued to see Mikael doing this kind of thing live and up close, even if I'd only have stood about 3 minutes of it before running, screaming, for my Phil Collins albums.

11th November 2011: David Cross Band - The Peel, Kingston

Okay, I know it's only been a couple of days since I posted my last review, but back in real life, by Friday night it's been a full 11 days since my last gig. Things are so bad that I'm starting to get withdrawal symptoms - accompanied an uncontrollable urge to pogo around my living room.


Luckily, Facebook comes to the rescue and reminds me that just around the corner at the wonderful Peel in Kingston, there's a night of fabulous entertainment awaiting us, as there so often is. I like to tell people that proximity to the Peel was not a factor in moving to our current location, but that's a big lie which I'm sure nobody believes. Still, at least we only visit the main venue and not the dodgy place around the back, of which sometimes we are afforded a tantalising glimpse whilst ordering drinks in the bar.

It being a Friday, Karin and I have to work, and in addition we both end up working late, so unfortunately dinner takes precedence over seeing support band Credo, who we've seen at the Summer's End festival a few weeks previously in any case. After a bit of umming and ahhing, the chosen venue is Byron burger restaurant, primarily because they promise 'Proper Burgers' - although I'm not entirely sure that they ever explain what their competitors do which is such a crime against burger propriety. Perhaps they use Fairy liquid as relish, or make their buns out of tungsten. To be fair, it actually does knock spots off our local Gourmet Burger Kitchen, so perhaps they have a point.


After such a heavy dinner, a walk up to the Peel is well needed, and besides, it's always fun to watch the transformation of affluent Kingston into the more down-to-earth suburb of Norbiton as one passes the local landmarks of the Fighting Cocks pub, the upturned telephone boxes outside Wilkinsons, and the bizarre fish sculpture by the side of the road, which someone has helpfully designated as the entry point to Norbiton by manoeuvring an empty can of Special Brew into its jaws.

Once we arrive at the venue, we meet up with some familiar faces including James Allen with lady friend in tow - he tries his best to pretend that he doesn't know any of us prog nerds, but gets accosted and interrogated as soon as she nips to the bar. We're also pleased to see that he's brought his notebook because, as Karin points out, rather like trees falling in forests, if James isn't there to take notes at a gig, it probably doesn't happen.


And so, relatively quickly for me, we come to the music! The David Cross Band is a band led by David Cross (no, really), a superb Electric Violinist who played with King Crimson for several years in the 1970s and contributed to three of their most seminal albums, 'Larks Tongues in Aspic', 'Starless and Bible Black', and 'Red'. I wasn't actually aware that he had a band at all, however Frost* drummer and all-round percussion maestro Craig Blundell has been their drummer for a good few years now, so when he posts to Facebook that there'll be a one-off UK gig following a European tour, we immediately decide to go and check it out.


I'm not familiar with David's solo work at all, so have no idea what to expect. Will he have had a falling out with Robert Fripp along the way and refuse to play anything from his KC days? (There seems to be around a 80% chance of this having happened to any given King Crimson member, from what I gather.) Will the solo stuff be of interest to a Crimson fan? Will Blunders do his infamous demonstration of jazz drumming at any point?

Oh yeah, there's going to be more rubbish iPhone photography here -
mostly because this seems to have been the least photographed Peel gig
 of all time. Not one digital SLR down at the front - what's that all about?

The band takes the stage and David starts off the show by himself, with what sounds like some kind of classical violin piece that I can't quite place, but then it segues into something rather darker and the rest of the band joins in - and several jaws drop in unison. It's a unique setup as far as I know - dark, heavy rock music, sometimes with riffs approaching metal, but with electric violin taking the place (for the most part) of where a lead guitarist would normally be widdling away. And he doesn't just play the violin in a conventional fashion, no, he also makes it sound like lead guitar, then like something more electronic, and then like a radio being tuned in. Then he's frantically sawing away at it like a man possessed. I'd like to see Nigel Kennedy try that.

As for the rest of the band, there's some seriously meaty riffing from guitarist Paul Clark, wonderful keyboard textures from Alex Hall, and some very impressive navigation around a 6 (yes, six!) string bass guitar by Mick Paul. On vocals, Jinian Wilde, who looks so much like my ex's dad that I do a double take when he walks on stage and wonder if he's come along to do some soldering on a defective piece of kit - but as soon as he opens his mouth to sing, the sheer power of his voice on the extremely challenging material makes me forget all about this. Until now, apparrently. All in all, a very impressive band.


And I know I shouldn't, but I have to single out Craig Blundell on drums as particularly impressive (and not just because there's a good chance he might read this.) Having been utterly blown away by his ability to play electro / drum and bass-ish beats live at last year's Frost* gigs, I cannot believe that he can also play riffs which verge on metal, jazz-prog sections in what he describes as "time signatures within time signatures", and out-Bruford Bruford in the "hitting everything in sight and still keeping perfect time" stakes. I'm often tempted to book him for a drum lesson, except that I feel like it'd be rather like asking Jenson Button to take me out in a Micra with L-plates on.

Blunders in a rare shot where his face is not being sliced
 in two by the emmental cymbal (yes, it's really full of holes.)

So, that's the band, but what use is a band of great musicians without anything good to play? Yes, Dream Theater, I'm looking at you. (I mean 'Dream Theater, I'm looking at you'. I'm not looking at Yes. Apart from perhaps that rubbish 'Tormato' album. That was pants.) Luckily, the David Cross band appear to have rather a lot of good music up their collective sleeves. 


Whilst doing some Googling for this review, I came across this review of David's last album by Robert Fripp (oh, so apparently they are still talking, what are the chances?):


"Good album! It continues a line of the work we did together in 1973 that no-one else has quite followed."


This is exactly what I was about to say, so thanks, Bob, for stealing my thunder. I'm actually struck by almost exactly the same thought during the gig - that this is what King Crimson might sound like now if they'd carried on with the same line-up after the 'Red' album rather than breaking up and getting back together in the 80s with the (admittedly awesome) Talking Heads-ish 'Discipline'. There are plenty of angular, metallic riffs of the kind familiar from 'Red', or 'Larks' Tongues in Aspic', and then there are the slower, more melodic numbers which are a little reminiscent of tracks like 'Fallen Angel'. 


I'm afraid I really can't tell you what they play, except that one of the tracks is, brilliantly, called 'Spiderboy' which makes me immediately think both of Spiderpig, and of this clip from Father Ted. And neither of these are bad things, obviously. 

And many of the songs are introduced as being from the new album, so that immediately goes on the mental wishlist (to be moved to the real wishlist once it actually exists.) 


But, I suspect the highlight for many, judging by the way some people's crazy 7/8 dancing ramps up at these points, are the 3 King Crimson tracks which we get treated to. 'Exiles' from the 'Larks' Tongues' album is a song which David announces that the band have turned into their own over the years, and judging by tonight's performance he's not wrong. An ambient-electronic type opening introduces the song before it gets into more familiar territory, and then an extended instrumental jam outtro also takes it to new places. I later find this performance of it from Italy 4 years ago, which is similar albeit not as good (no Blundell, you see.)


The gig ends in style with a fairly straight rendition of 'Starless' from 'Red', but then who needs to mess with a song this good? Once again, the entire band impresses, and the track ends with an amazing instrumental freakout before they leave the stage to huge applause.

Bizarrely enough, half the audience seem to have forgotten about the concept of encores because they immediately head for the exit after the band leave the stage, but those lucky ones who stick around are treated to a blistering rendition of '21st Century Schizoid Man', which is completely unexpected given that it's a track from before Mr Cross's stint in Crimson. But who cares about that, it's another tour de force from the entire band, and there's even more prog-dancing, furious riffing and Spiderpigging. OK, maybe not the Spiderpigging.


After the gig, there's just time to visit Nellie at the Merch Desk, then a quick chat with Mr Blundell during which Karin apologises for the conduct of her entire country (or something like that) and I tell him I thought his T-shirt was Darth Vader playing a digeridoo. I wish it had been- that would be a great T-shirt.


Disappearing off into the night, we find the gig was so blistering that the door to the bar has steamed up, and someone has decided to graffiti it with semi-slanderous mist-writing about Peel doorman George. 

So Karin decides to finish it off nicely.

It's a thoroughly enjoyable evening and a great reminder of why it's sometimes worth taking a punt on something you don't know that much about. I honestly hope the Peel continues to support live music by putting on the variety of acts that they do, and I hope its clientèle continue to support it in this way. Because if it ever disappears, I know I'll miss it. Especially its cuddly lovely doorman.

31st October 2011: Steven Wilson - 02 Shepherds Bush Empire

And so to the last of 4 gigs in what is quite possibly the best extended weekend of live music I've ever experienced. In the interests of getting this one written up before I go to my next gig this Friday night, maybe we'll just cut right to it on this occasion (and besides, nobody needs to hear about our drive back down the M40 from Stratford, or the afternoon I spent cleaning the bathroom. But if you want to, feel free to leave me a comment and I'll get right on it.)

The last gig I have lined up for my musical marathon is the last night of Steven Wilson's first solo tour, at the Shepherds Bush Empire in London. (Oh, alright, the 02 Shepherds Bush Empire - *spit*) 

Karin and I arrive an hour or so before doors open, since the only tickets I've been able to get are in the vertigo-inducing level 3 balcony and from previous experience I know that we really don't want to be stuck at the back of this without a seat. It proves to be a wise choice, as the queue soon builds up behind us, full of people with similar previous tales of woe. Demand for the gig tickets is evidently quite high, as the normally furtive ticket touts are brazenly walking up and down the queue, pestering us for spares. I'm about to tell yet another one to sod off when I suddenly recognise a familiar beard and notice that he's trying to thrust something into my hand rather than take away my precious ticket - why, it's Matt Stevens and his bundle of flyers!

I always feel sorry for poor old Matt, he frequently seems to be outside gigs that I go to rather than inside them, and I half want to buy him a ticket (and maybe a warm meal and a cup of tea), but he explains that tonight he has to get in and out because not only is his wife about to give birth to his first born any minute, but their cat has also gone missing and he needs to go out in search of poor kitty when he gets home. (Luckily, I find out a few days later that Alfie has returned safe and well. No such luck for baby Stevens #1, who is at the time of writing still incarcerated.)  It's a very quick chat, as he needs to be earning his living rather than wasting his time chatting to people who've already bought everything he's ever produced, but it's always nice to see Matt out there doing his thing, making new converts.

At last, the doors are opened (thank Christ, I can hear you all say) and we run up the 13 flights of stairs to our seats as quickly as humanly possible. Which is honestly not very quickly, given that I haven't been to the gym for a few days, and the fact that the climb seems to be overtaking the 'Death Arrete' route up Snowdon as my most challenging piece of mountaineering to date. We jostle for a good 3rd row centre spot, put our knees up around our ears, and get ready for the evening's entertainment.

This is not the Death Arrete. In fact I can't find reference to one
anywhere on the internet. I'm starting to suspect that our 6th form teachers
 were deliberately trying to scare the crap out of us.

Now, in the interests of disclosure I should probably mention that I'm a huge fan of Steven Wilson in all (well, most) of his guises, so the likelihood of this review being completely impartial is fairly tiny. So if that bothers you, well, go and read some YouTube comments - those guys hate everything. Yup, I've been a fan of Steven's since buying the Porcupine Tree album 'Lightbulb Sun' in 2000 (from Our Price Records in Ramsgate - remember them? *Sigh*), and since then I've collected all the PT albums, seen them live 4 times (nothing compared to Karin's 17), and also got into Blackfield and No-Man, seeing them both live this year.

So, with 'Grace for Drowning', Steven's second solo album, easily landing in my top 3 albums of 2011, it's a fairly good bet that I'm going to enjoy this gig. For his first solo tour, it would have been easy for Steven to play a few solo tracks, and then please the crowd with some Porcupine Tree and No-Man songs, but we've already been warned via his Facebook page that this will not be happening - and this is probably a wise decision. 'Grace for Drowning' and 2008's 'Insurgentes' are quite different in many ways to the Porcupine Tree sound, and both set out a very particular sound and image which Steven seems to want to stick to for the whole evening. Even down to the support act, which, if we're being honest, is a curtain. Ok, I put that on my Facebook for a cheap laugh, but allow me to elaborate a little.

Another one of my quality gig photos. To be fair, it was very dark in there.

At 8pm on the dot, the lights go down and everyone is quiet, expecting a support band - or maybe the gig itself to start. A curtain across the front of the stage is lit up with a projection of what looks like a dimly lit church, with several ghostly looking figures sitting facing away from the audience. Meanwhile, a low drone starts playing. A few minutes later, when the exact same image and the exact same drone are still playing, people start chatting amongst themselves and wondering what's going on. Then, without warning, after about 10 minutes, the scene on the screen changes, and there's another ghostly figure standing on a beach staring out to sea - except that this time, if you're playing close attention, it's a video, with waves breaking on the beach and the figure's robe blowing in the wind. And every 10 minutes or so, the scene changes again, whilst the drone changes almost imperceptibly until you suddenly notice that some very subtle beats have been added, or a harmony note up high somewhere. It later becomes apparent that the music accompanying the projections is Steven's new Bass Communion album 'Cenotaph' - and you have to hand it to him, releasing yet another new album from another different project so soon after 'Grace for Drowning'.

I have to confess for the sake of honesty, that Bass Communion really isn't my kind of thing at all. The full album is 77 minutes long, and I'm not sure if we sit there looking at the projections for this long, but it starts to feel a bit like it. Rateyourmusic.com files Bass Communion into the categories of 'Noise', 'Ambient' and 'Drone' and I think this is fair enough. The albums get great reviews and ratings from those who are fans, so I should really leave comment to those more in the know about this genre of music than me - but when the lady behind us says to her husband "This music is doing my head in," I feel unqualified to turn round and call her a philistine.

Anyway, just as people are starting to get fidgety, the current scene on the curtain gets interesting - a view of the shoreline as seen through the window of a house by the beach suddenly comes to life, as a figure all in black approaches the window, gradually getting closer and closer. And suddenly the past hour seems like a well thought-out Halloween trick, as this is genuinely creepy - the indistinct figure gets closer and closer until it's almost entirely blocking the window and the screen is about to go completely black, when...

A thunderous drum hit scares us all to death and, at the precise same second, the stage lights go on, the curtain becomes completely translucent, and there's Marco Minnemann already at his drum kit, kicking off a furious groove. It seems a bit early for a drum solo, but soon enough we notice Nick Beggs on bass at the bottom left of the stage, joining in the riff, and he's gradually joined one by one by the rest of the band as the music builds up steam until Steven himself finally takes centre stage on guitar to lead them all into furious instrumental workout 'No Twilight Within the Courts of the Sun' from 'Insurgentes'. A fairly impressive opening, it has to be said - and I'm completely on board with this gig right from the off.

The "curtain", by the way, is still up at the front of the stage, and it's being used to incredible effect. I've often heard the story about how in the very early days of Genesis they played some gigs behind a transparent gauze and did clever things with UV lighting, and I'd never been able to figure out exactly how that would work. But now I get it - and then some. Sometimes images are projected onto it so that you can only faintly see the band through the curtain, sometimes the images completely drop away at key points in the music and then the lights focus on one member of the band, the gauze meaning that the others are completely hidden from view. There are even large landing lights on the stage which sometimes illuminate the players from behind and cast giant silhouettes on the screen itself. It's visually astounding, and I can only hope that one of these shows gets filmed for a Blu-ray because if my description fails to do it justice, my abysmal iPhone photos are even worse.

The gauze leads to a strangely exciting atmosphere where the band are completely cut off from the audience, and this is heightened even further when what seems like a disembodied ghostly voice announces the second track, "I am the collector..." - and the song 'Index' from 'Grace for Drowning' follows, with some of the bizarre imagery from the video being projected onto the curtain. I'm just starting to wonder whether they can sustain an entire gig like this when, during a particularly intense section of 'Sectarian', the curtain suddenly drops to the floor in time with a loud thud, and the crowd go absolutely bananas.

Fun though the effects using the curtain were, we can now see the band in full action and it's well worth it (making up for the fact that we now can't see any of the projections from our heavenly seats once they move to the back screen on the stage.) Steven has assembled an absolutely crack team of musicians to play his music, even if none of them are exactly obvious choices. On drums, Marco Minneman, a German drummer now living in California, who's chiefly known for work with metal bands and was in the frame to replace Mike Portnoy in Dream Theater. On bass and Chapman Stick, Nick Beggs of superbly-mulleted 80's band Kajagoogoo, but famous to prog fans for having joined Steve Hackett's touring band and been probably the only man ever to play the Summer's End festival in a dress.

This evening he is fairly tamely coiffured, preferring long blonde pigtails.

On keyboards, a late addition to the group (after Level 42 drummer Gary Husband has to pull out due to ill health) - Adam Holzman, son of Elektra Records founder Jac Holzman, and a member of Miles Davis's band for 5 years. On sax, flute, clarinet and anything else blowable, as well as keyboards, Theo Travis - perhaps the most obvious band choice since the man is a woodwind genius who has played with Steven many times before, and frankly, who else would you call? (I hope this is sufficient sucking up to make up for my review of his solo spot supporting No-Man...) Finally, on guitars, laser guitars and sitar-sounding guitars, Aziz Ibrahim, who's a renowned session musician who's played with the Stone Roses, Simply Red (yes, really) and Steve Hogarth of Marillion.

It sounds like a combination of musicians that really shouldn't work, and what's more, if you tried to put together the list of their previous engagements to guess what this evening's music might sound like - well, you'd have to imagine a prog/jazz/metal/synthpop/alternative/world music type thing. Funnily enough, that's almost exactly what we get. Many of the heavier sections from tracks like 'Sectarian' and 'Raider II' seem to have been heavily influenced by Steven's labour of love remixing King Crimson's catalogue, and the jazzier bits by his remixes of Caravan and Jethro Tull. Then there's 'Index' which is surely the best song Depeche Mode have never recorded, 'Postcard' which is the indie anthem Coldplay and Snow Patrol wish they could write, and then some of the haunting Mexican-inspired tracks from the first album like 'Veneno Para Las Hadas'.

Ooh, pretty. It's almost like a proper photo and everything.

The entire band are absolutely stunning, but Marco Minnemann particularly is a revelation, as if a drum machine could do metal riffs, and play with feeling. Not only does he play the sequenced drum parts from 'No Part of Me' exactly as they are on the album, but he also plays some of the most thunderous fills during the heavier bits which actually cause nearly everyone around me to look at their neighbour and say 'Blimey'. (or something less British.) At one point, a particularly good 30 second section causes the whole crowd to erupt into spontaneous applause, upon which he grins, shrugs, and carries on playing.

And what of the main man himself, the star of the show? Well, he's keen to insist that he's just the conductor of this group, and to a certain extent he has a point, as this music would just not sound the same without the guys he's assembled. But, sitting at his writing desk-come-keyboard at the front and centre of the stage for a good part of the evening, his vocals are as powerful as I've heard, he also plays most of the guitar solos, and what's more he genuinely seems to be having a great time up there. After the curtain comes down, there's some good audience banter, as he ribs Classic Rock journalist Jerry Ewing during one of the breaks. "Have all four of your dates stood you up, Jerry?", he asks, pointing out to the audience that there are 4 spare seats in the front row if anyone wants to come down and sit next to Mr Ewing. I don't actually see anyone do it, but I'm sure it's nothing personal.

The high point of the set comes when Steven announces that they're about to play a very long song and that it might not work very well. (What is it with these genius musicians and their self-deprecation? See also Neil Hannon, the night before.) Starting quietly with just Steven on piano and vocals and Adam on keys, Raider II achieves the pretty impressive feat of having the entire of the Empire silent for the first few minutes, surely an absolute first for a rock gig. Over the next 20 minutes, we're then treated to jazz-ish freakouts, introspective, brooding sections, and enormous metal riffs, during which the strobing landing lights on the stage shine directly into the eyes of us balcony dwellers, nearly inducing something along the lines of a acid trip (I imagine. We've already established I'm a good boy.)

When the track comes to its thunderous conclusion, there's a spontaneous standing ovation, and the band in turn take their bows, each getting the applause they thoroughly deserve. Which, oddly enough, is nearly the name of the encore track, 'Get All You Deserve', which starts again with just Steven on voice and Theo on keys, but gradually building up into a hypnotic instrumental jam. With Steven leaving the stage halfway through to leave the band doing their thing, we assume that's the last we've seen of him, but then he returns a little later wearing the gas mask from the front cover of 'Insurgentes'.

A final striking image from an evening which has been utterly true to the visions of both Mr. Wilson and his right hand man, photographer / director Lasse Hoile, it's ripped off for the last bows to reveal a beaming Steven underneath, seemingly humbled by the audience's appreciation and proud of what he's created.

And so, my weekend of gigs concludes as it began. On a weekday. No, seriously, it ends with a gig which completely exceeds all my expectations and makes me wish I could see it all over again rightaway. To see one of these is exciting enough, but 3 in one weekend is more than my little brain can cope with. I need a bit of a rest (and there's the small matter of some work to attend to.) Besides, if I go to many more gigs, I will literally not have time to do anything else but write blogs about them and that might just make me go a little insane, quite apart from losing me all my Facebook friends.



Steven Wilson Setlist:


No Twilight Within the Courts of the Sun
Index
Deform to Form a Star
Sectarian
Postcard
Remainder the Black Dog
Harmony Korine
Abandoner
Like Dust I Have Cleared from my Eye
No Part of Me
Veneno Para Las Hadas
Raider II
-----------
Get All You Deserve