HEARTS HEARTS HEARTS

Sweden is placing itself on the map. First it was the meatballs then flatpack furniture and now the time is here for the Svensk Musik takeover!

We’ve had our fair share of discotheque groovy cats from Sweden , such as Karoake and granny favourites Abba and Ace of Base. They’ve even covered the benchmark of heavy metal noise bands (Opeth) that out European counterparts manage to so profusely create, as well as throwing in pop rock favourites The Hives for extra flair.

But we’ve come into a new age; the dawning of the softer side of music; Arcade Fire (chosen for BBC adverts), Sigur Ros immaculately depicting the beauty in Planet Earth and the ethereal Bright Eyes. Finally, out with the jangly indie, in with reflective!

And that brings me onto Last Days of April. Being a fan of them since the Rainmaker album (1998) where frontman Karl Larrson virtually held me through good times and bad, ups and downs, heart aches and heart breaks, and in his own words, ‘the days I recall being wonderful’, it was a triumph to finally see them live.

The session players and Larrson set up on stage, with an anticipative audience. Once again it amazes me the range of people Last Days of April attracts, and I’m happy to find myself with two other hardcore fans, who sing, scream and dance along with me all the way through. The new album ‘Might As Well Live’ was the purpose of this UK tour, and new songs ‘Lost and Found’, ‘Who’s on the phone’ and ‘All will break’ were performed among old favourites ‘Will the violins be playing’, ‘Aspirins and alcohol’ and ‘Angel Youth’ as well as Karl Larrson showcasing ‘Wind in tree’ from his solo album ‘Pale as Milk’. The new material, especially Lost and Found are still reminiscent of the simple uncluttered essence of past songs, letting Larrson’s distressed timbre sing out and the silky tension of the accompaniment holding the listener captive of the emotion. Who’s on the Phone, much livier in contrast, fully takes advantage of the band and draws distinct similarities to Jawbreaker and Ash. Wind in Tree, my first taste of Larrson’s solo project distorts Last Days of April in a more Sunny Day Real Estate contour, with slight levitation into more bass but continues to include the harmonisation and overlapping of vocal layers. It wasn’t the great divergence from Last Days of April that I was expecting, and to listen to it within the spectrum of other songs I was disappointed to find it merging too well, and may have easily just been a B-side single instead of Larrson’s own venture.

Of course, the crowd pleasers were the old songs from albums Angel Youth and Ascend to the Stars. Will the Violins be Playing and Aspirins and Alcohol, infamous for being on the Deep Elm samplers, managed to still send shivers up my spine. It’s the lyrics, the syncopated heavy beated start of Will the Violins and straight to the heart lyrics ‘its not you its all me, as if me taking all the blame would make you feel much better now’ which truly feel magical. Aspirins and alcohol may just be one of my all time favourite tracks, with the gradual buildup of sound, to the sweetness of the string accompaniment and the way that Last Days of April manage to hold your heart on the hook of every beat.

NOISEY BOYS

If you were around during Freshers week, you might have stumbled into DB's for Kids Will Be Skeletons and All Hands On Deck's gig night, where Riot Noise headlined. Many of you will have consumed a ridiculous amount of alcohol by this point (as well as having had your ears raped by the Geldof girl's djing) but those who remained, indeed, witnessed ROCK in the making. Not only did this band manage to convince two ladies (who must have been freshers straight out of an all girls school) to let all 5 members stay in their halls (sadly the band decided the cramped man-gasm ride home at 3am was a better offer), but the glouriously long haired frontman, Marty recently used level 10 gift of the gab to get backstage at a Guns n Roses gig and then party with the Rose.

Back in their hometown of Bristol, Riot Noise are slowly becoming a very talked about band in their own right. They formed from remaining members of Red Top Matches less than a year ago but are already doing a 3 week tour in the states next week. This band, i must admit, have had a lot of flak. I remained highly unconvinced of just how 'awesome' my boyfriend thought of them until attending a gig. Considering my boo's top bands spanned Motley Crue, Faith No More, Husker Du and a hint of Weezer; what the hell was I letting my ears (and possibly eyes if its circa drag queen Motley Crue era) in for?

It was a spiritual awakening of the music kind. Spiritual if we replace Jesus with a fallen Axl Rose, and God with Gene Simmons, or Bruce Dickinson (he looks pretty regal). I'm a child of the 90's and will always be true to that. My teenage years were dominated by Nu Metal; Slipknot, Linkin Park (shudder) and Marliyn Manson. I am not ashamed to say it no matter how much i've grown out of it! However, I'm also a peripheral child of the 80's and I'm very glad that my generation is one of the last to fully appreciate the origins of rock music today; Beastie Boys, AC/DC, Queen, KISS, Sex Pistols; they all put in their own contributions. Unfortunately I've never been able to see these bands in their hayday; reunion gigs are one thing, but its the drugged up puking on stage Nikki Sixx that I really really want to see. Some bands have recreated this essence (although without the drugs and body mess) extremely well; QOTSA and even, to some extent The Darkness and Mika. Riot noise excel where these bands can't; producing a no frills straight up hard rock that is reminiscent of Sunset Strip in 84. With songs like Fight the People (almost being quite Rage Against the Machine-y) and San Fransisco and guitar solos from the greatest guitarists I've seen in my 19 years on earth; its hard to fault Riot Noise technically. Each song is crafted with style and their work ethic is undoubtably notable; 2 practices a week and an tour in america with Tattooed Millionaires where they hope to perform every night) its a joyous sight to see the band still letting loose on stage.

There is one BUT. A bit red raw red BUT. And that but is; I wouldn't really buy a Riot Noise CD. I probably wouldn't play Riot Noise on my Ipod. And thats my personal taste but I think its one which is generic of people my age who weren't around when the renaissance of rock happened in the 80's. I can appreciate the sound, style and flair but its simply not built for my taste. As a live band; Riot Noise belong on a stadium, in front of large crowds where girls lift their top and on TV where they horrendously insult and do a Britney on air. They will achieve many many things and their performance will be the thing that gets them noticed. If this was a single review, I'd give them 3 out of 5, but as a live review, its got to be full marks.

MY FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE PEACHES GIRL

Les Incompetents at 100Club 7th November, the Farewell Gig!

Les Incompetents, like The Surfaris and Dire Straits had me intrigued on the basis of a catchy name. Me? Easy to please? Yes yes I am thank you thank you very much.

I was prewarned that they were also pretty big news in London and arriving at the 100club into a hot sweaty basement crammed like a pack of sardines, that is, sardines wearing trilbys and cravats I realised how right that was. I sigh as I make my way through the crowds, and reluctantly hand over £1.30 for half a can of diet coke. The music better be good.

Les Incompetents start setting up on stage, and unfortunately, with me being a meagre 5’3, my view is not spectacular. I see glimpses of suits, waistcoats and silver sequined head bands. The singer looks like a mutant hybrid of Rivers Cuomo and Jarvis Cocker, assembled in the underground sewers of London perhaps. His girlfriend Peaches walks past me, and I live up to my reputation of being a little slow when I realise the old guy behind her is her dad. Whats his name? Bob Geldof! The bewilderment is then replaced by a great huge stabbing pain when he steps on my foot.

Sounds starts to fill the air; loud bursts of energetic sound that hit your face with a whack. They are really pulling out all the stops tonight. I hear jangly melodies around ska beats and tweaky guitars. The words Babyshambles, The Libertines and a smidgen of Reel Big Fish come to mind, but there’s also a form of innocence and fun that makes Les Incompetents stand out. They play a full back catalogue of songs including crowd pleasers How It Went Wrong, the clappy guitar explosion Reunion that is sung so close to being out of tune it works, and Much too Much. They look a wreck on stage and the dry asides are plentiful and sarcastic, but the sound is tight, passionate and if you listen carefully, you can hear technical brilliance. The crowd is gratuitously loyal, shouting out requests, singing to their hearts content and starting what looks like a monster mash up in front. Dancing becomes infectious with symptoms ranging from the head bob, to a fever of jazz hands and then the acute flinging of ones legs.


Ironically, a new song is played, which is almost too much of a cocktease for the crowd. They lap up a pretty shoddy cover of the White Stripes, but at this point they’d jump for glee if the band threw them human faeces, or even marbles. Which they did. The marbles I mean.

The hour set goes by quickly, mainly due to restarting Much too much five times as a dig to the redundant previous bassist Ollie Rose (a quick check on Wikipedia quotes that he was ‘forced to leave the band when his guitar was stolen by a gypsy’) and although I do like the sound of Billy’s voice (a twang of drunken slurring and that cliché London accent; better than your Irish/South African/Klingon one Luke ‘The Kooks’) his interludes of random heckling and antics did grow a bit tiresome.

The music stops and I come up for air and a quick run to the tube station. I’m sat waiting for Cockfosters (the tube) and it hits me that the beautiful mess of sound I’ve just heard won’t ever be performed on stage again. Why the band are splitting up I’m not sure; irreconcilable differences, new projects or maybe they really are just incompetent. But at least Geldof stood on my foot

GEISHA ROCK THE PLAZA

Four bands. Half a stage. A pool tournament. Noise! Noise! Noise! Smashing into your ears like Richard Hammond's brain (look, he's alright now!); the sound is a perpendicular obtuse triangle pulverised into a square hole. Oh for the love of noise.

Its four bands, and four is a lovely number, but to honest, only half of this noise- pie was worth watching; Geisha. And Yolk. Bristol and France, united, c'est la revolution!

Geisha, once described as 'crushing blasts of impossibly hyperdistorted rock baked in massive frequency overload and massive hooks and melodies and sinister crushing riffs, all of it slathered in filthy throbbing feedback and white noise horror holocaust' load up the stage with what appears to be a wall of amps. The ever decreasing space shifts Tony and Steve onto the floor and into the crowd, bringing the performer audience relationship a little more sweaty closer. The concept of Geisha has changed remarkably during their 5 year existence. After changing drummers from human to sub-human to robot ( aka Terry BOTzio, drummachine extrodinaire), they have progressed from the classic 'shout like Alec Empire and add distortion' to their current blood curdling anger sadness I feel love mash up. The setlist is an orgy of new songs, with names like Von Dreck und Feuer, Fulcivision, Exploitation Cinema in the Workplace and Bloodbath in Bethlehem (exclusively renamed at this gig). You'd think you were in the company of the great eccentrics, sat smoking cigars listening to Wagner. But oh no, its two beardy men bashing out distortion in a fury of anger. The precision of the drum machine beats and syncopation add a new dimension to the beautifully miscellany sound of guitar and bass. The crowd are actually staring in amazement as the music grows and dies from synth and bass lined melodies to an ambience of fuzz and brutal guitar abuse. Its music with sexual frustration, like Berlioz on speed, watching some girl wearing pink shoes. If you want a pretty picture think of Dinasaur Jr colliding with My Bloody Valentine and Slint, ripping out the vocal chords of Unsane and Helmet. And may I add, the bassist is a piece of hot ass!

After the onslaught of Geisha's last song, a version of 'I Feel Love' that made me want to tear my heart out and pretend love exists as a bloody heap on aorta and ventricles, York gather themselves on stage. What can I say about Yolk? They are French. This explains a lot! I've never cast my eyes on such a genius group of muscicians. Never in my small short life. From only the first few minutes I think of Mr Bungle immediately, Bungle with a vagina. The girl is making those science fiction sounds from the twilight zone...but she's using her mouth.

Theres a violin, theres a saxamaphone, and the drummer may actually have the soul of THE Terry John Bozzio. The clanking great big syncopated chords, train track beats and that good old gypsy folk melody blend almost too well with Delphine Delegorgue's bursts of sound effects. I mean, this girl is producing the imitation of blowing chunks, then sobbing ghosts. It progged me in all the right ways.

The night is one big noise tastic success, so much so that the usual pub goers, who were in the middle of watching football and having a pool tournament managed not to wave their hairy fists at the bands or resort to name calling in the vicinity of 'freaks' and such like. Perhaps the music touched their little coal shaped hearts? Or maybe it proves my theory that at the centre of us all is a small troll that is just waiting to mosh out.