Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Space Age, No Rocket
Next up in the line of gigs where the ticket got bought when there was nothing else on around the time and that then changed.
Ok, I'll declare an interest. From my perspective, the only good thing about drum and bass is the Cable t-shirt stating 'DRUM AND BASS [tiny font] guitar and vocals', and I've no idea that drum and bass is even what you'd call this particular nonsense. Given it is music effectively reduced to the bass and a bit of drums, ie with all the interesting bits taken out or turned down far enough to be inaudible, it is an adequate description if not a perfect piece of genre pigeonholing.
On the plus side, I've never seen a drummer start putting his drums in the van while the rest of the band blithely carry on playing, and it is a suitably edifying spectacle to watch someone packing up his Mac laptop and coiling the associated cables while his mate continues apparently 'feeling the groove' or whatever the appropriate term is. In short, utter rubbish.
I had half a plan for things to go slightly differently, but time and weather got in the way so I was really glad I didn't get there any earlier and have to stand there through all of that, and I can understand the appeal of a practically non-existent support when a lot of effort has gone into the stage set.
Emerging from a giant silver funnel in silvery clothes, the band are soon joined by Alison Goldfrapp in a black cape that appears to have the tape from half a dozen VHS cassettes sewn onto it in loops, making her unmistakeably the focal point of the place.
Polite notices on the walls inform the crowd that 'the artist has requested that patrons refrain from all typpes [sic] of photography and video' and surprisingly for such a visual show, people mostly comply, although the security are pretty hot on looking for the electronic glow of LEDs and LCDs being raised in the air and demanding they be put away.
Alison's band are pretty tight, with the smilingest drummer I've seen in a while, and indeed I'd have to think hard to work out who was the last female drummer I saw that wasn't Denise Dufort. You've got to love a clear perspex bass guitar, and who doesn't love seeing one and at times two keytars - that's those keyboards worn on a strap and played like a guitar?
You'll note I still haven't mentioned how the band sound. I liked the idea that the recent album was rather more 80s flavoured, and Alison Goldfrapp is clearly one of those interesting characters that deserve a bit of support just for not belonging to the identikit dance routine and skipload of melisma acts that plague the discerning listener in the modern age. I'm open to something new every now and then, but I'm not rushing out to buy anything and I wouldn't rush to go that far to see this gig again. But there are half a dozen singles and songs I recognise, and for all that most are rather more into it than me, I can see the captivation in a singer who is clearly wrapped up in the performance rather than the act.
In the cold light of day, I'm probably prepared to stick with my initial reaction, that Goldfrapp combines the singular conviction of Kate Bush with an able band made up of the survivors of a fight between Heaven 17 and space-ABBA, beamed straight out of 1986. That it is a spectacle worth seeing is unquestionable, but whether it comes with a set of tunes I'll be singing along with this time next year or even this time next week is rather more in doubt.
_
Ok, I'll declare an interest. From my perspective, the only good thing about drum and bass is the Cable t-shirt stating 'DRUM AND BASS [tiny font] guitar and vocals', and I've no idea that drum and bass is even what you'd call this particular nonsense. Given it is music effectively reduced to the bass and a bit of drums, ie with all the interesting bits taken out or turned down far enough to be inaudible, it is an adequate description if not a perfect piece of genre pigeonholing.
On the plus side, I've never seen a drummer start putting his drums in the van while the rest of the band blithely carry on playing, and it is a suitably edifying spectacle to watch someone packing up his Mac laptop and coiling the associated cables while his mate continues apparently 'feeling the groove' or whatever the appropriate term is. In short, utter rubbish.
I had half a plan for things to go slightly differently, but time and weather got in the way so I was really glad I didn't get there any earlier and have to stand there through all of that, and I can understand the appeal of a practically non-existent support when a lot of effort has gone into the stage set.
Emerging from a giant silver funnel in silvery clothes, the band are soon joined by Alison Goldfrapp in a black cape that appears to have the tape from half a dozen VHS cassettes sewn onto it in loops, making her unmistakeably the focal point of the place.
Polite notices on the walls inform the crowd that 'the artist has requested that patrons refrain from all typpes [sic] of photography and video' and surprisingly for such a visual show, people mostly comply, although the security are pretty hot on looking for the electronic glow of LEDs and LCDs being raised in the air and demanding they be put away.
Alison's band are pretty tight, with the smilingest drummer I've seen in a while, and indeed I'd have to think hard to work out who was the last female drummer I saw that wasn't Denise Dufort. You've got to love a clear perspex bass guitar, and who doesn't love seeing one and at times two keytars - that's those keyboards worn on a strap and played like a guitar?
You'll note I still haven't mentioned how the band sound. I liked the idea that the recent album was rather more 80s flavoured, and Alison Goldfrapp is clearly one of those interesting characters that deserve a bit of support just for not belonging to the identikit dance routine and skipload of melisma acts that plague the discerning listener in the modern age. I'm open to something new every now and then, but I'm not rushing out to buy anything and I wouldn't rush to go that far to see this gig again. But there are half a dozen singles and songs I recognise, and for all that most are rather more into it than me, I can see the captivation in a singer who is clearly wrapped up in the performance rather than the act.
In the cold light of day, I'm probably prepared to stick with my initial reaction, that Goldfrapp combines the singular conviction of Kate Bush with an able band made up of the survivors of a fight between Heaven 17 and space-ABBA, beamed straight out of 1986. That it is a spectacle worth seeing is unquestionable, but whether it comes with a set of tunes I'll be singing along with this time next year or even this time next week is rather more in doubt.
