Robyn Writes

Parlour Tricks – self titled

Post-punk is a genre that has been mined extensively in the past decade with countless bands from Editors to Interpol putting on their best Ian Curtis impressions and heading straight for the great pit of stagnation. South Carolina’s Parlour Tricks are here to give the genre a big kick up the arse with an urgent, propulsive and importantly- dancey self titled debut album. Despite playing a genre of music almost always associated with depressives and all-round gloom, the album places the power of the hook in high esteem, leading to some unashamedly big choruses loaded with well dressed dynamics and an all round sense of cautious optimism.

The albums opens with rumbling percussion before each instrument is added to the furore in quick succession, the guitar playing a painfully simple four chord staccato riff whilst vocalist Eric Greenwood initially opts for the traditional post-punk baritone warble before he thankfully allows his voice to open up a little for the chorus. Piano arpeggios swirl elegantly as the song reaches an understated chorus, completing a musical venture that strangely sounds a little like The Gaslight Anthem if they were from Macclesfield. ‘Radio Out’ begins with sparse guitar staccato’s before things get things get dancey and a distinct whiff of Mission of Burma seeps into the song whilst the vocals emit a similar nasal twang as Placebo’s Brian Molko. The clean, syncopated guitar chords of the verse even eschew little hints of ska in a recurring flirtation with upbeat motifs.

Everything about third track ‘Cathedral’ seems wonderfully off-kilter; drums can’t decide whether to visit the indie-disco or opt for some rock histrionics whilst a booty-shakin bass churns out some dirty basslines as nimble guitars dance across the mix. ‘Bronze Cast’ sees the band lose any inhibitions they might have about a fully ‘pop chorus’ but thankfully their Mission Of Burma influences shine through enough to keep the track from going too glossy. The tempo is upped slightly for ‘Red’. Propelled by a driving bassline the song possesses a distinct sense of urgency with vocalist Eric’s voice breaking into screams of “I feel so strange!” for the thrilling crescendo.
The intro to ‘Eleven’ starts out like some abstract electronic piece as xylophone hits twist around electronic chirps and beeps before the song begins in earnest with straight forward drums and guitars that appear more focused on creating ambience as the piano takes central role for the chorus.

‘Entropy’ and ‘White Lies’ move along nicely with the latter song featuring some particularly nifty and impressive nuances on the drum kit thanks to sticksman Logan Goldstein. The central riff of ‘White Lies’ has Fugazi written all over it but the chorus is a bouncing two-chord alt-rock stomper. Closer ‘Down In The Minefield Of A Memory’ starts off with a Peter Hook-inspired bassline that maintains is simplicity throughout the four minute track. The track never lets up its steady, driving momentum whilst utilizing simplicity and restrain from all instruments as the very ‘New Wave’ vocal melody of the chorus masquerades as a slice of traditional post-punk gloominess.
An album that is post-punk in name, but not necessarily in nature- Parlour Tricks is a much needed update that breathes life into the genres fondness for sounding as cold and dead as possible. The guitar riffs are hummable and the vocal melodies, although not initially overtly ‘poppy’, will sneak their way into your psyche. All in all, a brilliant effort, a record that is instantly accessible, bringing together a myriad of post-punk influences into one well honed and danceable melting pot.

Four out of five high fives!

Club Smith – Appetite For Chivalry

Four piece indie types Club Smith are one of the newest act to spring forth from Leeds’ very fertile underground music scene. Appetite For Chivalry boasts productions from Will Jackson and James Kenosha who, between them, have helmed releases from fellow Northern indie boys The Cribs as well as Leeds’ finest sweaty rockers Pulled Apart By Horses. From these facts you’d expect the album to be a worthy musical endeavour yet the end result is something … well … just plain weird.

There are stomping synth-infused alt rock songs which lie in polar opposition to heartfelt slow burners, making an album that’s already musically befuddled sound even more disjointed. The album kicks off in a rather unassuming fashion of ambient noise, punctuated by a rather rusty sounding bass before the rest of the band enters. As opener ‘Mantra’ unravels what is clear is the band certainly has musical ambition but not yet the means to hone said ambition into a coherent selection of enjoyable songs. Second track ‘No Friend Of Mine’ is a much more direct, post-punk affair but sounds like its performed by a completely different band. Trebley, off-kilter guitar and dancey drums make this energetic track ideal for a live environment yet is at odds with the more introspective elements of the record. The grating bass guitar and catchy chorus yearn to be loved by intoxicated teens in indie-discos. Follower ‘Beautiful & Useless’ could have easily been penned by the Young Knives. It’s constructed out of similar vocal harmonies and jerky rhythms which yes, make the track catchy but because of its juxtaposition with the pounding grunge madness that came before it, the song’s pop hooks lose their intended impact. The record takes another strange turn for ‘I Don’t Want To Show You That I’d Lost Faith’. The lead singer’s voice resonates with the vocal histrionics of Muse’s Matt Bellamy over minor key piano arpeggios and slightly off putting atmospheric guitar effects. ‘In Arrears’ is two and a half minutes of inoffensive guitar-driven indie and plodding synthesiser lines that dissolve into welcome feedback, leading into ‘Nonchalant’, another distortion-drenched soulless indie-dance track featuring a now very annoying warbling synthesiser. ‘Lament’ features elements of much promise, clever bass meets with unorthodox percussion but the song repeatedly delves back into indie-disco territory, turning a track that could have been a truly interesting aural exploration into one that is rather drab. Album closer ‘Young Defeatists’ sees the band back on the right track, utilising sublime dynamics to make it one of the highlights of the album. It builds to an expertly crafted crescendo that gives way to a short minimalist piano piece, bringing the album to a dignified close.

Appetite For Chivalry is the sound of a band that has yet to find their niche. Throughout the album they hit upon several genres- post-punk, alt-rock and disco-grunge to name a few but while some bands may be applauded for creating and album with such a wide plethora of genres, Club Smith just seem to be blindly grasping for a sound to call their own. The band need to decide if they are going to produce by-numbers Kaiser Chief indie tunes or expand on their more atmospheric and introspective abilities which, through tracks such as ‘Mantra’ and ‘Young Defeatists’ the band are more than capable of. Appetite For Chivalry is a shaky effort to say the least, but one that the band will hopefully build upon to mould their own unique sound.

Two and a half high fives!

Alexisonfire – Brixton Academy, 2/12/12

Tonight’s show at the prestigious Brixton Academy hosts the beginning of the final chapter of the most well loved post-hardcore band of the past decade; a band that spawned a plethora of imitators all trying to capitalise on the band’s unique and dynamic emotional tension. After somewhat fizzling out back in 2010 after the release of their confused E.P Dog’s Blood, it seems that these handful of final shows have reminded the thousands in the venue, as well as the many more left without tickets, just how much these five unassuming Canadians meant to so many people.

As the venue fills, Brighton hardcore heroes The Ghost Of A Thousand take to the huge stage to unleash their rock n’ roll tinged hardcore. Although they came out of retirement to play this show at the behest of the headliners, Ghost are every bit the tight, well oiled punk machine they used to be. At first, the crowd greet the band with reserved politeness for the antagonistic no-holds-barred opener ‘Left For Dead’, but the rock n’ roll inspired ‘Bright Lights’ gets those at the front moving. ‘Up To You’ ups the ante, with vocalist Tom Lacey heading into the crowd as fans scramble for the mic. Lacey produces the quote of the night, perfectly summing up the predicament of both bands: “They say you play Brixton academy twice in your career, once on the way up and once on the way down. It’s nice to be back.” ‘Black Art Number One’ sees the small rowdy gaggle at the front throwing themselves around the pit as if their lives depended on it before final song ‘Bored Of Math’ comes to a close with three members of the band held aloft by the crowd.

Tonight the ravenous crowd will be treated to a whopping twenty-three song set spanning all of two hours and encompassing every Alexisonfire release from their debut through to their Dog’s Blood E.P. As the lights go down and the Alexisonfire banner descends at the back of atmospherically lit the stage the levels of excitement is almost unbearable and as the band take to the stage they’re greeted by deafening screams from both sexes. The opening chiming notes of ‘Crisis’ send the crowd surging towards the front as vocalist George Pettit’s characteristic screams erupt from the cavernous stage, the crowd now a writhing mass of crushed bodies. As the song reaches the chorus Dallas Green’s vocals are pretty much drowned out by the baying crowd. ‘Get Fighted’ is the perfect follower, a song about fashion and hairstyles being irrelevant and having a good time taking precedent. ‘Waterwings’ from their 2001 debut album receives a raucous response even though a vast majority of the crowd would still have been a few years off their teens when it was released. ‘Old Crows’ has the audience pogoing along to the bouncy punk riff, the chorus of “We are not the kids we used to be” very much echoing with the crowd and the teenage years that Alexisonfire provided the soundtrack to. ‘Control’ has the crowd replicating every nuance of Dallas Green’s impossibly sumptuous voice and is the track that perhaps best showcases the band’s masterful use of dynamics that made their 2004 album Watch Out! so brilliant. The slow burning intro to ‘You Burn First’ has the audience resembling a coiled spring, exploding as George Pettit’s screams signal the audience to go completely batshit, his now thirty year old frame projecting his grating scream just as fervently as he did ten years ago. ‘We Are The Sound’s’ call and response interlude appears deafening but this seems tame compared to ‘This Could Be Anywhere In The World’ which has every member of the five thousand strong audience sing and scream back every single word of the song that became a global hit. ‘Dog’s Blood’ gives a glimpse of the direction the band would have headed in, its more experimental leanings still retaining the classic Alexis clean vocal and screaming dynamic. ‘Accept Crime’ shines a light on the band’s more outspoken and political output, advocating free speech and freedom of expression by declaring “We will be free/ To use our bodies as we please”. ‘Boiled Frogs’ and ‘Drunks, Lovers, Sinners & Saints’ boast some of the band’s biggest choruses and reiterates why Crisis was such a successful album. ‘Charlie Sheen vs Henry Rollins’ is the surprise of the night, a slightly obscure track that draws a blank with some but for those in the know it is a welcome surprise. Pettit takes to the organ for the relatively slow paced ‘The Northern’ with Dallas’ voice soaring and showing no signs of fatigue after twenty songs. ‘Accidents’ is greeted like an anthem, the sweaty throng throwing their weary bodies around the various pits whilst the chorus and “whoahhhs” of the interlude are shouted back at the band by hoarse vocals chords. Returning to the stage after the inevitable encore, the slow-paced off-kilter rhythms of ‘Rough Hands’ give way to the expansive punk rock of ‘Young Cardinals’, giving the more rowdy fans a last chance to throw their sweaty bodies into each other. A sprawling rendition of ‘Happiness By The Kilowatt’ ends the show in positively epic fashion. The song falls and rises in several crescendos, with Dallas’ voice never faltering before the song ends in a piercing wail of feedback.

Sure, the band could have benefitted from a little more rehearsal but this is cynical nit-picking in an otherwise perfect performance from a band that helped define modern heavy music as we now know it. I think it is fair to say, that no one leaves Brixton Academy with a shred of disappointment.

Jowls – Cursed

What do you get if you take the restless scathing noise of the Jesus Lizard; replace David Yow’s muffled howls with throat shredding screams and inject this with enough raw ferocity to make Roy Keane a bit scared? Quite simply, the answer is Jowls. Despite being a trio, the Michigan based band spew forth a particularly aggressive and grating form of abrasive hardcore-based catharsis. If you are of a weak disposition and like your music all twee and neatly served up than you’d better make sure you never step within a hundred yards of this record for fear that after getting an aural whiff of its, at times, startling intensity- you may require counselling afterwards. Their debut mini album Cursed is comprised of six tracks of pure unbridled anger and is propelled by a driving rhythm section and a rather surprising understanding of the power of dynamics.

Greeting the listener in the first seconds of opener ‘Ruins’ are the raw unaccompanied screams of guitarist Ryan whose vocal chords produce a scream so piercing and biting it is almost horrifying in its intensity. Scuzzy, double-tracked guitars rattle along like The Jesus Lizard minus the jazzy intuitions. Feedback smothers the opening drumbeat to ‘Shamewalker’, a track the builds in intensity, ending in a hellish freakout. What is also made clear is that this isn’t just sixteen minutes of relentless thrashy noise. When the band do reign the aggression back in, they do so with expertise; the three members increasing the tension like a coiled spring that threatens to explode at any given moment. A stark drumbeat opens ‘Monotoned’, soon joined by a slinking bass line before the grating guitar once again joins the fray and Jowls’ expertly manipulated controlled-chaos is unleashed. The feedback filled outro holds similar noisey post-hardcore leaning as 90’s underground noise lovers Unwound and even 80’s legends Big Black. Lasting little over a minute is ‘Sway Slow’, a breakneck rattling hardcore track that gives drummer Jeff a chance to show off his chops as the band’s dissonant furore is over before you can fully comprehend what is happening. ‘Indian Giver’ hits hard, coming across like Jesus Lizard just after they’ve had a big line of coke as it jerks and writhes towards oblivion. Its central riff is a pummelling force of nature, painfully simple, yet devilishly powerful. Final track ‘Long-winded’ shows Jowls possessing a slight progressive intuition. Not content with ending the record in another two minute torrent of unrelenting anger, they instead create a song that puts emphasis on their accomplished dynamic ability. More than once they bring the song down to a restrained simmer before cleverly unleashing their anger in a hail of shrill screams and caustic noise, even permitting hints of melody to permeate the otherwise discordant guitar.

What instils this record with added kudos is the group’s ability to mould their 90’s throwbacks into thoroughly modern sounding compositions. At times they veer towards the rewired hardcore sounds of the recent “Wave” bands such as La Dispute or Touché Amoré, but their harsh hardcore lies in no particular camp. Instead, the band seem to skirt around the edges of definable sub-sub-genres, pinching segments of sounds from various underground spheres such as noise rock and (real) screamo and throwing them into their uncompromising musical mixing bowl. If you like music that sounds like a full scale assault on the ears than Jowls are for you. Their modern take on a style of underground rock now surpassing its second decade in existence always feels fresh and much more importantly, is delivered with such passion and volatility that it feels rightly vital.

4.5 out of 5 high fives!

Converge – Brighton Concorde 2, 01/12/12

Tonight the temperature on a winter Sunday night is straggling the minuses but inside the seafront confines of Brighton’s finest venue, the Concorde 2, things are about to get very sweaty. Marking their return to the venue on the back of their startlingly good new album All We Love We Leave Behind, Converge bring three diverse but no less extreme bands to warm the frozen crowd.

First on is Italy’s The Secret, a four headed beast of a band who play something akin to black metal interspersed with Sabbath riffs covered in a crust some twelve inches thick. Approval is shown through an increasing amount of devil horn salutes and raised pints, commending the band’s ability to switch between blastbeats and sludge riffs in a manner not unlike tonight’s headliners.

A Storm Of Light rely on atmospherics rather than brute force to communicate their sprawling, multi visual, sludgey post-rock compositions. A film collage, projected behind the band, shows images of warfare, atomic bombs and riots, providing the ideal backdrop for the ear-splitting cacophony that envelops the crowd in an inescapable wall of pure noise.

The front rows who await Touche Amore are made up almost exclusively of teenagers, proving the bands popularity with the young Tumblr-savvy crowd. As the band plays the first few warm chords of ‘~’ the venue suddenly explodes into life with the soul baring lyrics being screamed back at frontman Jeremy with aplomb. Always emphasising brevity over longevity, the band rattle through songs in quick succession, covering most of 2011’s acclaimed Parting The Sea Before The Brightness And Me as well as a number from their debut …To The Beat Of A Dead Horse. A new song entitled ‘Gravity’ gives the first indication of the bands future direction, a track where ideas are allowed to develop and flourish into the band’s longest song to date.

As the crowd forms in front of the stage, a distinct smell of stale sweat, beer and marijuana emits from the gaggle of metalheads, hardcore kids and other down and outs who have gathered to watch the most influential extreme bands of recent times. Converge take to the stage to little fanfare, no backing track or elaborate entrance. Vocalist Jacob Bannon bluntly states “we’re ready to play” and they launch headfirst into ‘Concubine’ (probably the most extreme seventy-nine seconds of music ever written); the crowd quite literally goes wild for their blastbeat infected hardcore. Driving bass and drums signals the intro to ‘Dark Horse’, a track that possesses much of the unstoppable kinetic energy of a speeding train. The masses at the front exercise their demons in all manner of violent gestures. From some extremely vicious headbanging and air punching to the flailing throng in the pit, the floor is soon covered in puddles of sweat and splattered with blood fallen from smashed noses. ‘Aimless Arrow’ and ‘All We Love We Leave Behind’ represent the new album with the crowd reacting to the new songs like they were old favourites. ‘No Light Escapes’ from the recent split seven inch with Napalm Death spurts a fifty second long tirade of aggression. Guitarist Kurt Ballou is every bit the virtuosic guitarist, switching from caustic breakdowns on ‘Axe To Fall’, to two finger tapping and relentless chugging whilst Nate Newton’s driving bass and booming vocals dominate ‘Worms Will Feed’. Converge’s backbone- Ben Koller, provides some of the most devilishly difficult yet undeniably solid drumming in heavy music. As the band leave the stage the crowd are still thirsting for more aural brutality and the band oblige readily with an encore of ‘First Light/ Last Light’ from You Fail Me. The closing schizophrenic breakdown sees the bruised and battered crowd losing their shit for a final time. As the house lights come on, the state of the crowd speaks volumes about the intensity of tonight’s show. The bloodied, sweat-covered throng certainly got what they came for- a masterful performance by one of the most uncompromising bands on the planet.