Hooops #1 - Ichi, SJ Esau, Rozi Plain, FOUND - The Louisiana, Bristol

Posted in SHOFT on Tuesday 6th September 2011 at 11:09pm

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As I wobbled my unsteady way over the cobbles among the chattering commuters of Bristol, I speculated on how long it was since I'd been to The Louisiana. Too long was my conclusion, but once inside the place was familiar enough. Tonight was the inaugural Hooops night - not so much a club as an experience encompassing art, performance and a dose of unhinged genius directly from the mind of Heinz Junkins - a local luminary and OLO Worms member.

Quite aside from the line-up assembled this evening, it has to be said that Heinz is a talented guy in his own right, with Hooops doubling as the launch night for his art exhibition in the newly opened cellar of The Louisiana. The small, whitewashed oblong room was adorned with his works - on one wall, a series of giddy, brightly coloured and sometimes visceral paintings. Curious creatures with disturbingly human appendages cavorting under strange disconnected slogans. Opposite, a wall of small digital prints - sketches, often as much textual as artistic, little snippets of curious ideas. It was intriguing to watch the audience reaction as we assembled for the first act of the night - surprise, confusion, amusement. Most of all though, genuine pleasure at the playful oddity of Junkins work - something I've not seen often on my very occasional forays into galleries. And as we pondered this visual feast something strange happened... With a blarting harmonica call and the sound of morris-dancer style foot bells, Ichi strode through the audience on musical stilts. The slight, timid Japanese artist tottered to the front of the room where a steel drum, some rather taped-together electronics and a box of accessories sat. Wobbling down from his stilts, these too doubled as instruments, one featuring a two-string banjo which Ichi deployed both as a makeshift cello and a guitar during his performance. It's difficult to describe what followed - sometimes it was quiet, delicate and touching - often it was funny, bizarre even. Whatever it was, Ichi totally engaged the audience, and when he didn't he just threw ping-pong balls at them! Lyrically, it was harder to fathom - often barked in a strange, shrill Japanese - or via a distorting megaphone - the vocals were indistinct. Occasional snippets would surface ("this song is about a kumquat") but it didn't matter a bit. His short performance was dramatic, hilarious and affecting. What more could you ask? As Ichi strode back through the room on stilts at the end of his set, still jangling like a one-man folk festival, it struck me just how much guts it takes to pitch up in front of an audience and do something so alien and unlikely. For my money, the man is a bit of a hero.

Using the possibilities of the venue fully, we made the trip upstairs to a room I was more familiar with to see SJ Esau. Whilst a world away from Ichi, SJ Esau is an equally hard to pin down prospect. Over curious, weirdly suggestive video projections, the one man multi-instrumental music machine manipulated loops and beats which thundered oddly around the room. A gut-churning, glitchy bass and lots of scattergun guitar chimes topped things off musically, while he intoned lyrics often through an array of distorting effects. The vocals were almost as interesting as the mesmerising music here - often a robotic semi-rap, then a warm, humanly folky tone, and finally on the closing "I Threw A Wobbly" an outright punky howl. Almost obscured by the lighting and projections, the man himself was content to slip into the background of the performance. When he chats, he's a humble and funny guy - not nearly as arch and terrifying as his sometimes rather stark soundscapes might suggest. Occasionally the complex, shifting musical background drifts into something more like trance - and I'm aware that not for the first time tonight I'm out of my depth and having my assumptions tested by Hooops. No bad thing. SJ Esau is complex, layered and challenging. I leave the room a convert, with records to track down, which is always a sign of success.

Getting caught in interesting chats and things mean I miss Rachael Dadd who is back in the basement - but I make a mental note to catch up again based on what I've heard elsewhere. However, this puts me in pole position for Rozi Plain's performance back up here in the attic. Drawing a huge crowd, Bristol-based Fence Records artist Rozi is on fine form tonight. Her spacious, delicate guitar playing and beautifully fragile vocals filling a room which is utterly silent despite the crowd. Accompanied by a clarinet and saxophone duo who are keen to assert their "violent monopoly" on that particular instrumental ensemble, Rozi works her way through a handful of delirious, summery folk-pop numbers including recent single "Humans" which elicits a buzz of recognition from the audience. There is something earthy, warming and welcoming about Rozi's voice. It's like receiving a musical hug, and as someone standing beside me whispered to her friend "I could listen to her sing forever". Nothing I clumsily concoct as a review can better that description really.

There is a bit of delay before FOUND take the stage - but it's for good reason. A fair chunk of the audience want to know who won the Mercury Music Prize. I genuinely couldn't give a damn usually - the annual circus of the same dreary old acts, token Jazz efforts and worthy but patronisingly tokenistic ethnic inclusions bores me silly. But this time King Creosote and Jon Hopkins have not only scored a nomination, but seen the odds dramatically narrow via the sheer force of critical acclaim. Whilst none of us 'care' about the Mercury prize officially, we all want Kenny to win. As Ziggy Campbell concisely puts it from the stage "He's....well, he's our KING!". Frustrated by the delay FOUND begin playing with a pensive, slow-burning take on "Mullokian". Somewhere during this, the news lands that sort-of-local girl PJ Harvey has taken the prize. There's a genuine sense of deflation - it all seemed so possible somehow. But FOUND pay tribute with a wonderfully heartfelt take on KC's "For The Last Time Hello" before returning to their own familiar territory. A glitchy, stuttering "Anti Climb Paint" sets them back on track. The audience has thinned a bit, due to that time-honoured and slightly irritating Bristol tendency to support local favourites but shun touring acts. However, the crowd that stayed are witness to an edgy and tense set from FOUND drawn mostly from "Factorycraft". Just before the set's climax Heinz scatters the audience with banknotes printed on tissue paper before a storming "Johnny I Can't Walk The Line" and a final artistic act by posing with a stickman picture.

The party continues downstairs with OLO Worms spinning tunes, but I slink off over the slippery cobbles once again wondering if I'm getting too old for late nights on a Tuesday? The miracle of all this is though, that Hooops has meant there is something actually worth doing tonight - a friendly, funny and bewildering mix of art and music, novelty and variety alongside performances from truly fine musicians who don't get nearly enough exposure locally or nationally. More of an event or a spectacle than almost any other gig I've attended in Bristol, with lots of effort to do something memorable and worthwhile very much evident alongside the music and general insanity. Heinz Junkins deserves congratulations for waking up Bristol from it's hipper-than-thou usual self just a little tonight. I want there to be more Hooops, soon. And it's still a shame about that Mercury....