(This review originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.)

Fifteen years ago, as the poster boy for the so-called “slacker” generation, Lemonheads front man Evan Dando was riding the crest of a wave. While Kurt Cobain struggled with the pressures of sudden, unasked-for fame, articulating the pain of his generation, Dando’s easy-going brand of instantly likeable grunge-pop brought smiles to those same faces.

Earlier this year, Evan Dando turned forty. On the evidence of last night’s show – the second of two warm-ups for a major support slot with the Jesus and Mary Chain – he wears his age lightly, with a surprisingly healthy demeanour for someone who has indulged in the full range of rock star excesses. His lank, centre-parted hair still falls well below his shoulders. His face still bears that same dazed, doe-eyed, almost innocent expression. His audience may have settled into regular jobs and conventional lifestyles, but Evan remains the eternal slacker, making everything seem effortless and unforced.

Accompanied by regular collaborator Chris Brokaw, Dando strummed his way through a selection which spanned his whole career. Inevitably, old Lemonheads favourites such as Into Your Arms, Big Gay Heart and It’s A Shame About Ray drew the biggest cheers. But on this uncomfortably hot and sticky night, the show never quite took off.

Towards the rear, a brawl broke out. Shortly afterwards, Dando abruptly and ungraciously ended the set, and stalked off. (“I don’t like modern rock shows. I’ve played you nineteen songs. If that’s not enough, see me later.”) It was an awkward end to a pleasant but underwhelming evening.

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

An edited version of this review originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.

Despite his many visits to the Royal Concert Hall over the years, few in last night’s audience appeared to recognise OMD keyboardist Paul Humphreys, now performing with Propaganda’s Claudia Brücken as part of Onetwo. Despite some initial nervousness (1), their brooding, dramatic synthpop was politely received, (2) with the warmest applause reserved for the instantly recognisable Propaganda classic Duel. (3)

Although they have never won the critical acclaim of fellow Eighties survivors the Pet Shop Boys, Erasure have achieved a similar level of success, on their own terms, without ever bending to musical fashions. You can always spot an Erasure song – but you might struggle to guess the decade in which it was recorded.

For this reason, the duo – Andy Bell as enthusiastic as ever on vocals, Vince Clarke as impassive as ever on keyboards – can easily switch between old and new material on stage, without anyone noticing the join. The new songs may not sell quite as well as they used to, but last night’s capacity crowd lapped them up as readily as the old hits. Opening the set, recent single Sunday Girl (no, not the Blondie number) got all three tiers on their feet, where they remained throughout. (4) Not even the Pet Shop Boys managed that, when they played here in June.

But then, Erasure have always been more Pop than Art, and they’ve never been above letting their audience know that they’re having fun too: the three impeccably glamorous backing singers struggled to keep straight faces during Chains Of Love, and Andy performed old favourite Oh L’Amour as a duet with a fake fur stole called “Mint Sauce”. For beneath all the costumes and camp (paint-splattered suits, ridiculous Andy Warhol wigs, army fatigue cocktail dresses), there lies an unassuming generosity of spirit, which welcomes everyone to Erasure’s party. Long may they party on.

(Photo by Sarah)

(1) ...which surprised me, as I was expecting an assured, ice-maidenly, This Is Art Darleenks performance from La Brücken, who seemed somewhat uncomfortable in her own skin. But then the minimal staging didn't help, with the three performers merely plonked in a static row in front of a black curtain. Arty synthpop needs visuals, donthca know?

(2) ...at least, by those who didn't start chattering amongst themselves or slipping out to the bar. Nevertheless, album sales during the interval were brisk; I bought a copy for myself, and they were flying off the shelf at the rate of two or three per minute.

(3) ...whereas my warmest applause was reserved for their cover of The Associates' Club Country, played in memory of the late Billy Mackenzie, who would have been fifty this year.

(4) ...as those of us on the front row could clearly see, if we turned around. For by a remarkable stroke of good fortune, I was approached during the interval by a nice lady (a very nice lady; she'd read my interview and everything!) who asked me whether I was on my own, as she and her husband had a spare ticket for the middle of the front row.

As my pair of perfectly decent press tickets were therefore suddenly going begging, I quickly dragged Sarah and Lord Bargain down from the vertigo-inducing second tier, and passed the tickets on. A significant result all round, which more than compensated for the earlier frustration of failing to offload the spare press ticket on any of my friends.

And let me tell you: front row seats at the Nottingham Royal Concert Hall are a trip and a half. With no security staff to get in the way, you're mere inches away from the stage itself, which is roughly at chest height (if you're tall like me), and hence so close that you practically feel like you're part of the show (if you're egotistical like me). The sound quality's not so great, as you're practically behind the main speakers, but the compensations are considerable.

(That Andy Bell, he couldn't keep his eyes off me. I sense a connection.)

Labels: erasure, eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

Way back at the beginning of June, I received an invite to a special "bloggers only" preview, in the screening room of a swanky Soho hotel, of the movie Hallam Foe, which went out on general release in the UK this weekend. Never being one to turn down the opportunity for an ooh-I-saw-it-FIRST freebie, I duly accepted (provided that I could bring along a glamorous lady companion), but remained mystifed as to why anyone would have stuck me on their guest list in the first place.

A bit of judicious Googling led me to suspect the unseen hand of Hugh McLeod at work: he who writes the widely read blog gapingvoid. (You know, the one with the cartoons drawn on the back of business cards.) As it turned out, the hunch was correct. Hugh is an old friend of the film's director David Mackenzie, and the bloggers-only preview appeared to be some sort of experiment in building a blog-based buzz around the movie, well in advance of its general release. Further to this, an official, regularly updated "making of the movie" blog had been in existence since February 2006, although I had never stumbled across it myself before.

Thankfully, no conditions were attached to the invitation. The assembled bloggers remained perfectly at liberty to write what they wanted about the film, positively or negatively, or indeed not to write about it at all. To my mind, this demonstrated a fairly massive statement of faith by the film's creators.

Having met my glamorous lady companion (GLC) outside the swanky hotel, we sashayed into the swishy bar, where my GLC kindly got the drinks in: two spirits, two mixers, and virtually no change from a twenty quid note. How exclusive!

What neither of us had realised was that free drinks and canapes were simultaneously being served to the bloggerati in the downstairs bar, adjacent to the screening room. Well, why didn't they say?

After some difficulty in locating said screening room, we eventually found the vestibule, where a nice lady with a clipboard was ticking off names. I had been wondering all along which of my other blogpals might be in attendance, and now I discovered that, with the exception of my GLC, there were none. This was a totally different group of bloggers, drawn more from the marketing/consultancy/web punditry areas of the UK blogosphere, many or most of whom made their livings from the sort of subject matter which they blogged about. Erk! Eek! Professionals!

As well as Hugh McLeod, who introduced the film and chaired the post-screening discussion, director David Mackenzie was also in attendance, along with the film's two stars: Jamie Bell (best known for his starring role in Billy Elliot) and Sophia Myles (recently seen playing Madame de Pompadour in Doctor Who). Such exalted company! And all laid on for a bunch of bloggers? Talk about steering through uncharted waters...

And so to the film itself, which began by scoring two immediate massive Plus Points: an animated title sequence by David Shrigley, accompanied by Orange Juice's fantastic 1980 single Blue Boy on the soundtrack. Indeed, the whole soundtrack - CD copies of which were given away free to all attendees, and ooh look, blimey, an exclusive new track from Franz Ferdinand - demonstrated sound taste, having been assembled from the roster of well respected indie label Domino Records.

In the movie, Jamie Bell plays the troubled youth Hallam Foe: a mixed-up loner who faux-ferally roams around the grounds attached to his capacious family home, with "tribal" daubings on his face and alternately voyeuristic and vengeful fantasies on his mind. His mother is dead, his father has re-married, and his stepmother is a cold-hearted eminence grise who reads his diaries on the sly. A potentially violent confrontation with her in Hallam's tree-house ends with the two of them having sex (the first confirmation that Young Master Bell is now Quite The Young Man), after which Hallam runs away to Edinburgh, where the bulk of the film is set.

Soon after arriving in Edinburgh, Hallam becomes erotically obsessed with Kate (played by Sophia Myles), whom he spots on the street. He secretly follows her to the city centre hotel where she works, and ends up taking a job in the hotel's kitchens. In the evenings, he spies on Kate through the windows of her apartment, as his obsession intensifies. The reason for this obsession: Kate is the spitting image of his late mother.

So far, so Oedipal. (And for many film critics, it has to be said: so far, so preposterous.) As for me, the assumption at this still early stage was that we were in for a standard stalker/slasher flick, with Hallam as the twisted aggressor and Kate as the silent victim. All of which was pressing hard on my Big Red Gender Politics Alarm Button.

Suffice it to say that, from this point on, my expectations of both characters were slowly and skilfully subverted, as Hallam and Kate revealed themselves to be more nuanced, more complex, and more intriguingly peculiar and perverse than we had been led to expect. And although many of the same critics have judged the film's denouement to be far-fetched and unconvincing, I found it to contain recognisable emotional truths, which moved me to the brink of tears.

(Let's just say that, without wishing to cause undue alarm, I spotted certain elements of my own mixed-up teenage self in Hallam's character. But not the Oedipal elements, I hasten to assure you.)

Hallam Foe, then. A modestly budgeted independent production, beautifully acted and intelligently directed, which deserves all the support it can get. And yes, I have factored in the distorting effect of the ooh-I-saw-it-FIRST factor...

After the screening, the director and actors trooped back in for what I felt was a rather unsatisfactory and exasperating Q&A session, dominated as it was by a certain self-regarding self-importance on the part of the questioners. This was perhaps only to be expected, given the unprecedented hospitality which was being afforded us, but questions such as "How is blogging changing the film industry?", and observations along the lines of "Pah, cinemas are old hat, we'll soon be downloading movies onto hand-held devices, and what do you have to say about THAT?" made me, my GLC, and some of the assembled panellists visibly cringe at times.

Tellingly, when one questioner began by explaining that unlike his predecessors, he was neither a blogger nor a marketeer, Jamie Bell reacted by putting his head in his hands and groaning, with no small degree of force, "OH! THANK GOD!"

But, as I say, uncharted waters for all concerned.

The evening concluded with a Meet And Greet Slash Networking Opportunity on the top floor of a swanky diner down the road. Upon entering, my GLC and I headed straight for a table in the quietest corner, which turned out to be rather handily positioned by the kitchen doors. As a result, we got First Pickings on all the tasty finger food, the moment that it was brought though, freshly cooked and piping hot, by the charming and faultlessly attentive waiting staff. Sod the networking, this was a Major Result.

We stayed put for the duration, locked in conversation, and ended up mingling with no-one (although I did get to chat earlier with Gia Milinovich, a long-standing blogging acquaintance, and briefly with social software maven Suw Charman). Such uncharacteristic aloofness, especially at a blogmeet, ill becomes me... but then, it really was exceedingly good finger food.

Labels: blogmeets, films

A shorter version of this interview originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post. Here's a longer transcript of our conversation, which took place back on Wednesday August 29th.


I actually spoke to Vince Clarke a few months ago; it was back in April, just before your current album Light At The End Of The World was released. Speaking to you now that it’s been out for three months or so, are you pleased with the way it has been received?

It’s really hard to tell these days. I think we’ve sold about 70,000 copies worldwide, so sales-wise it has been disappointing – but when you go out and play, and people know all the words to the new songs, even in America, you think: oh, this is really amazing. So I think people are just sharing their music. They don’t buy anything much anymore, unless it’s blasted at them all the time, on the TV and stuff. So I’m pleased at how people know the songs, and that they’re going down well.

In 1995, when we had the Erasure album out, and Fingers And Thumbs was released as a single, we went on stage and nobody knew it. But this time, they’ve heard them.

Well, you do have a very dedicated fanbase – and extraordinarily, you haven’t had a single fail to make the UK Top Forty for over twenty years. That’s an incredible achievement. How do you keep that kind of consistency?

Vince and I still love writing songs together, and we don’t always realise what craftsmen we are. We just do it, without comparing ourselves to other people. When I listen to something like Abba’s Lay All Your Love On Me now, it still sounds really beautiful. Then I think: well, some of the stuff we’ve done sounds just as good. The vocals are really tight, the music’s clear and sharp, and you can hear all the words.

It’s the same on stage, where things are note-perfect. We may not have the same exposure, but it’s high quality material.

I was talking to Vince about your particular creative process, and it was interesting that you’re always together in the same room when you write, despite living on separate continents.

You have to be, really. We did one experiment before Light At The End Of The World, where Vince sent me ten dance tracks, of music that was inspired by Electric Blue [Andy’s 2005 solo album]. I tried to think of some tunes, but he wants the whole song all at once – whereas when we’re separate, I just get up on a vibe. But when we’re together, then he can say: right, we’ll use this part and that part, and we can put them together. Otherwise, I’ll just sing a lot of rhythm parts strung together, which is mostly what dance music is these days.

Everything you do is clearly song-driven, even if there are dance undercurrents…

I think it’s kind of old-fashioned now. It’s quite hard; you don’t hear too much of it in the charts anymore. Even stuff that’s quite popular, like Mika and stuff; it just sounds like an advert or something.

So in a sense, you’re preserving the art of songwriting when so much else is groove-based. But when you started out, you were an electronic duo at a time when it was a very progressive, futuristic thing to do. You’ve very much stuck to that template, but do you ever worry that you might turn into the Status Quo of electro-pop?

Well, probably! [Laughter] I don’t really mind. I’ve always tried not to concern myself with those fashion things: whether you’re in or you’re out. I’ve always felt like a bit of an outsider anyway, along with Vince; not really into designer labels, and what’s the latest really hot thing that you have to wear, and gadgets, and things like that.

Well, nothing dates more quickly than the fashionable…

Yeah, and I think it’s the same with music as well. You can date quite quickly; within three years or so. Sometimes, I must admit, I can get a bit bored with the sounds that Vince uses, and I do tell him, but he just sticks to his guns. I sometimes think we could make it more up to date – but in the long run, I think he’s making the wisest choice. He’s keeping his sound pure, and it’s recognisable as him, so he’s being the designer, if you know what I mean.


You both talk about ploughing your own furrow, and not taking account of prevalent trends, but do you feel any particular kinship with any other current acts?

I’d say definitely with the Scissor Sisters. They’ve done it the opposite way round; they’ve come out of America and have done it in the UK, whereas we came out in the UK and did it in America. I think they’re really brave, being “out” in America, where it’s still really hard. Even for us, it’s still hard.

I was wondering whether the experience of being on the True Colors package tour in the States had brought you together with people you might consider to be your fellow travellers…

Oh, it was lovely. I couldn’t believe that we were together with Deborah Harry. She’s such a wise lady. I was asking her all of these questions about what it was like, being in the limelight and being the most photographed person, and she said: well, it’s the same for you. She was so gracious; she bought me a T-shirt that had “Rock Royalty” written on it. I couldn’t believe it, because I was such a huge, huge Blondie fan. And she’s done all this solo material, but I said: that’s fine, you do what you like, and I think some of your solo songs are really good anyway.

Then also, Cyndi Lauper turned out be a huge fan of ours! I really hadn’t taken much notice of her career, although I knew her songs – but now that I’ve listened to her songs after being on tour with her, she’s an incredible singer, and I’m going: wow, her voice is amazing.

I think I’ve always undervalued her as well. She was a bit uncool when she started, and I kind of wrote her off.

Yeah, but when she sings She Bop, and she goes up and down that trill like Lene Lovich…

I heard there was an amazing version of She Bop. I was talking to The Gossip, who were also on that tour, and they said that was one of their highlights. But they said they felt kind of stuck on the edge of things a bit, being a younger band but playing to an older audience.

Oh, they did really well; their reception was fantastic.

When I spoke to Vince, I was asking him about what music he was listening to, and he said that basically, as the father of a young child, the music he hears the most is The Wiggles. So I wondered whether this has any bearing on the rumour that your next project might be a concept album of nursery rhymes…?

We’re kind of halfway through doing that. We’ve started it already, and now Vince wants to turn it into an original Gothic story, rather than just using old nursery rhymes. Which sounds a bit complicated, inventing these people from the past, like the old woman who lived in a shoe, her story. We will finish it, but we are going to have a couple of years’ break, after the tour has finished. We’ll probably do some other things outside of Erasure, but that one is still in the pipeline.

Vince and yourself are clearly different but complementary personalities. I asked Vince what was the last time that he went out and shook his hips in a public place; he reckoned it was about 1979. What about yourself? Do you still get out there, and go out clubbing and stuff?

Not so much, really. When you’ve been doing a gig, you don’t feel like shaking it all around. If I’m DJ-ing, then that’s still a bit like work, but I really enjoy it.

I wasn’t aware you did DJ-ing…

Only a little bit. We did one in Atlantic City; Perez Hilton was there, and the guy from Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, so it was fun. Our singers dance, and some of the crew dance, and things like that. I suppose that going out-wise, I go down to the south coast quite a lot. I just go out to the pubs around Hastings. It’s enough, really.

You’ve been touring the US, and you’ve just taken a month’s break before commencing the UK tour next week. What have you done during the break?

Well, as I say, I’ve been down on the south coast. I have my boyfriend there on the market stall. I’m a housewife when I get home. Which I really like! [Laughter]

He has a market stall, does he?

Yeah, he sells bread.


Do you find there’s a difference between your US and your UK audiences? I’d imagine that in the US, it’s more of a cult gay thing, whereas in the UK it’s more mainstream.

It’s quite gay, but in the UK it’s not that huge an amount of people. I’d say it was probably about 30%. There’s quite a few young people, who have either heard us themselves or through their parents, and quite a few oldies as well, so it’s a good mixture.

You’re starting the UK tour in Oxford on Monday, and then you’re coming to us in Nottingham for the second night. What can we expect from the tour? I’m assuming costumes…

Well, it’s quite pared down. It looks quite sharp and slick, as you’d imagine an electro band to look like around twenty years ago. Like the Human League when they started. We’ve got all the DVD monitors behind us, playing mashed up versions of the videos. Plenty of dance routines, and the most glamorous backing singers that you’ve ever seen.

In terms of balancing old and new material, you’ve never become a nostalgia act, so I presume the new album is well represented?

That’s something I’m quite scared of, becoming a nostalgia act.

I don’t blame you…

So the mixture works really well, between old and new.

How do you approach the old material? Do you like to play it straight, or do you like doing significant revamps?

No, that will be one of our next things as well. When we do tour again, in a couple of years, we’re going to do The Remix Tour. Vince doesn’t really listen to them, so I’ll choose the ones I think are really good, and do some interpretations of those.

The photos which accompany this article were taken at San Diego Pride 2007 by shindohd, and have been reproduced under a Creative Commons non-commercial attribution license.

Labels: erasure, eveningpost, interviews, popmusic

This review originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.

From The Kinks to The Jam, from Suede to Hard-Fi, the suburbs of outer London have provided English rock music with one of its most enduring sources of inspiration. Nevertheless, having risen to prominence by documenting the world around them, and by expressing their desire for escape, most of these bands will traditionally seize the first available opportunity to re-locate to the big city.

Unusually, Hard-Fi have defied this tradition by electing to stay put in their native Staines in Middlesex, even going to the lengths of building their own recording studio there, in a former mini-cab office. Seeing nothing to be gained from being subjected to the pressures of London life, and opting instead to remain amongst their families and friends, their perspective remains firmly, almost defiantly suburban.

Nowhere is this clearer than on the lead single Suburban Knights, with its rallying call of “We're the ones you've forgotten, but we will not be denied, coming out of the shadows, we rock the satellites.” In common with most of the tracks on this follow-up to the chart-topping Stars of CCTV, the mood is rousing and anthemic, blending the staccato swagger and strut of vintage Clash and Jam with pulsing electronics and instantly memorable pop-influenced choruses.

Although the band’s musical template remains broadly similar to their debut album, there are touches of musical progression to be found, most notably in the orchestral arrangements which accompany many of its twelve tracks. Set against this is a heavy reliance on the sort of wordless terrace chants that seem purpose-built for crowd participation at live shows. Indeed, these choruses are stuffed so full of hey-ey-eys, woh-oh-ohs and aah-ah-ahs that the overall effect becomes dangerously repetitive.

However, the band’s chief weakness remains a lyrical one. For all the earnestness of Richard Archer’s delivery, it is difficult to suppress a snigger at some of the more trite lines, particularly on the first couple of listens. After all, observations such as “Television, the new religion” and “Politicians don’t wanna listen” (both from the chorus of Television) are scarcely original ones.

Similarly, I Close My Eyes would be a much more effective depiction of an office worker’s soul-crushing daily grind, if it wasn’t weighed down by pedestrian clunkers such as “I've got to get to work, you know I'm always late, the boss is on my back, the boss is in my face.”

That said, just because something is a cliché, it doesn’t necessarily make it any less true – and there’s something about the palpable sincerity of the band’s performance which, particularly after repeated plays, inclines you to forgive the occasional banality of their lyrics.

Unsophisticated, obvious and suburban they may be, but in this age of so-called “ITV indie”, Hard-Fi’s gauche, heart-on-sleeve sincerity is infinitely preferable to the smug, calculated superficiality of the Kaiser Chiefs, the identikit conservatism of the Kooks or The Twang, or the tastefully wan miserablism of Newton Faulkner or Snow Patrol.

For that alone, they should be welcomed back with open arms.

****

Labels: albums, eveningpost, popmusic

An edited version of this review originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.

There’s something both accurate and misleading about the title of Athlete’s third album, which will be slugging it out with Hard-Fi in next week’s race for Number One. In common with the Staines lads, Athlete have built their own studio in the area where they grew up, making this self-produced album very much a product of remaining within the neighbourhood. Conversely, its lyrical themes are firmly centred outwards, tackling hefty concerns such as global warming, environmental destruction and the futility of protest.

There are obvious dangers with this approach, which can easily slide into patronising preachiness. Thankfully, Athlete have avoided this trap. Rather than claiming a exalted rock star’s insight, the songs have an uncertain, questioning feel. As such, this marks a healthy progression from the inward-looking emotional concerns of its predecessor, Tourist.

Unfortunately, what hasn’t changed is the over-familiar, derivative sound of the music. Although efforts have been made to sidestep the “poor man’s Coldplay” accusations, the nagging feeling is that this is Athlete’s attempt at “doing an OK Computer”. Despite a promising opening run of spirited, uptempo numbers, the songs soon become bogged down in stodgy earnestness.

***

Labels: albums, eveningpost, popmusic