Yusuf Azak - Turn On The Long Wire

Posted in SHOFT on Wednesday 24th November 2010 at 7:11am

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I had a conversation yesterday about people caring about what they do. In particular, about attending to the detail of things for their own sake, and not because they're trying to impress or influence someone else. It's a rare thing nowadays to find someone who is committed to something entirely because they see it as intrinsically valuable - and as I get older, more cynical and less forgiving, I see ulterior motives everywhere. Then, with almost embarrassingly perfect timing last evening, the Yusuf Azak record appeared on my doorstep. From the very outset this is about attention to detail and a sense of purpose. The packaging is remarkable - a carefully folded card sleeve, secured with a sparkly sticker. Inside a brief hand-written career summary from Yusuf is printed on crisp paper, lovingly folded around the disc itself. Unwrapping the CD was an exercise in anticipation itself. This is why physical product will always triumph over digital media, no matter how often I kid myself that for half the music I want to own I just can't get my hands on it without the internet.

And the music? The theme of studied craft and commitment to quality continues. Yusuf's breathy, urgent voice is unique - and it's near impossible not to become breathless in empathy as the voice soars and dives over the delicate guitar work. There is a genuine sense of event about this album - it sounds like a celebration of effort and workmanship over the throw-away culture which surrounds modern music. Occasionally the guitar is augmented by brief stabs or washes of strings - never overpowering and just enough to move the compositions forward as Yusuf's voice climbs through the range towards it's next joyful burst. Elsewhere, on 'Thin Air' the spirit of the Beatles' 'White Album' is invoked, and the lush orchestration carries the slightly picked guitar through a beautiful, multi-layered sweep.

The track which preceded the album's release (can I call it a single nowadays?) 'The Key Underground' is by far the closest that the record gets to a bona fide pop hit - and even then it's a soaring and swooning composition which has as much of a kinship with the Cocteau Twins or My Bloody Valentine as it does with Yusuf's folkier contemporaries.

As I listened, I knew I wanted to break my years of blogging failure and write about this record - but how? The lazy art of comparison is sort of redundant here and I'm entirely certain to make an utter fool of myself - but I was moved to think of fellow Glasgow musician RM Hubbert, whose sparse instrumental guitar masterpieces aren't a million miles from this. However, where Hubbert stays indoors to provide the necessary introspection and reflection, Yusuf Azak is up early and audibly gulping lungfuls of fresh air on cold winter mornings. This record has certainly arrived at just the right time of year. Highlights and stand outs are hard to pick so soon after first hearing a record, but I find myself returning to 'Christabel Blues' - perhaps the record's most straightforward singer-songwriter effort, but blessed with some dizzying guitar playing which forms into a sort of deranged blues. The song curiously, and rather sadly fades away all too soon - perhaps the only genuine criticism of the album being that it's too short.

If I find myself writing about something here, it's almost certainly wormed it's way into my listening habits in a fairly permanent way. I can't recommend this record highly enough - it's a gem of a winter album. You can get it here and no doubt eventually from the various digital emporia. However, this is one to own and cherish.

Yusuf Azak - The Key Underground

Boolfight, Three Blind Wolves and Kid Canaveral - The Fleece, Bristol

Posted in SHOFT on Tuesday 26th October 2010 at 11:54pm

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What if you threw a party, but no-one came? Sadly this became an all too real experience for the promoter of tonight's gig at the Fleece. I should have suspected there was going to be a low turn-out when I appeared at the door a few minutes before the official door time clutching my pre-booked ticket. A chap broke off from the group discussing when to open and said "Ah! You're the bloke who bought a ticket!". We discussed Bristol's fickle scene, Glasgow and the frankly crappy weather today before he let me in to the venue. Nothing has changed here since my last visit - still the same dark, cavernous and sticky-tabled spot on the edge of the city centre. A great place to see bands on the ascent - or sadly sometimes turning the curve at the other side. A range of posters above the bar bears testament to the now-giant bands who have passed through the doors, and probably had nights not dissimilar to this one.

So, with a couple more punters through the door proceedings started with Boolfight from Paris. They appear to be a fairly established act, an album and a few EPs into their career, who ply a strange sort of synth-based indie-rock. They were certainly very loud, and got strangely louder as their brief set progressed, until I realised to my amusement that the bass was tickling my nostrils! Not an experience I've had before. To be honest, this wasn't for me. There was a slick, very European feel to the rather long and repetitive songs. However, these guys can certainly play technically well, and they deserve a huge amount of credit from throwing everything into their set despite the poor showing out front. I got the sense they're really sincere about their work, and while it wasn't my cup of tea I can see it would have gone down well with the strong following for more traditional 'rock' in Bristol, had people taken the chance on the band.

When I saw that Three Blind Wolves had been added to tonight's bill my first thoughts were of Ross Clark singing in a stream on Detour's recent 'Wee Jaunt'. If he could pull that off, then a big empty room in Bristol surely presented no problems? And it certainly didn't as Ross' massive stage personality shone through despite the strange situation and muddy sound. He gyrated and gurned his way through a set taken from their mini-album "The Sound of the Storm" and recent self-released single "Echo On The Night Train". Having heard some of this material on record, it was great to hear it's sometimes complicated twists and turns produced live, with sudden bursts of country turning effortlessly into full-on searing blasts of guitar. Alongside Ross' exertions, the band cut steady and proficient figures - and made a sound much bigger than the four people on stage should have been able to. The small audience, predominantly now made up of the other bands, seemed to have a good time too - and it would be fantastic to see this bunch interacting with a bigger and more responsive audience.

So to Kid Canaveral - a band whose membership seems to span Scotland in origins, effectively linking the Glasgow network to the coast at St.Andrews with all the potential for amazing musical collisions which that suggests. I confess that following eagerly snapping up their EPs as they arrived, I had a bit of difficulty with the recent album "Shouting at Wildlife", which I loved as a set of individual songs - but rarely seemed to sit through as an album. The great thing of course is that you can do this with Kid Canaveral - each song is a little universe of it's own, and I'd often find myself obsessing over particular tracks which I just couldn't help listening to over and over. Luckily for me, following a rip through single 'Good Morning', my current obsessive listen 'Left and Right' turned up which meant that at least one member of the tiny audience was beaming like an idiot for the rest of the set. I can't explain my love for this uncomplicated song - it just makes me grin like a twat! Next came a cover - but not just any cover - this was 'Missionary' by the mighty King Creosote. This brave choice was pulled off with the song's plaintive ache intact despite the change in tempo and sound. The short set concluded with a few more tracks from "Shouting at Wildlife", notably 'You Only Went Out to Get Drunk Last Night' where the benefit of having three accomplished vocalists in the band was evident. It obviously hadn't been a great night for the band - but they played a fine set, and sent me straight back to listen to the album on my journey home which is always a good sign. I just wish that Bristol could have been a bit more encouraging.

Looking back I'm proud I snapped up my pre-booked ticket the moment this gig was announced. Of course there was never any doubt I'd be out to see a band which had bothered to make the trek down from my beloved Scotland to play here - few do, and I can now see why. I had the opportunity to thank the equally bewildered promoter before I left tonight - and like he said, it's important that bands keep getting the opportunity to play here despite nights like this. I'd love to have offered a word of encouragement to the bands too, for bothering to come down - but they were busy and I was running for the train back home. If you read this, thanks folks - I had fun and I'm just sorry people missed a chance to have a wet Tuesday night in Bristol brightened up immeasurably.

Alex Cornish, Andrew Jones and White Heath - Pivo Pivo, Glasgow

Posted in SHOFT on Saturday 23rd October 2010 at 11:23pm

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Even in my youth I don't think I managed to go to four gigs in a row. This thought dawned on me today, as I lingered over a coffee and felt like I was properly on holiday for the first time in years! However, if there has been one aim this week, it's been to capture as much of the energy, diversity and quality as I possibly can from the complex and confusing music scene here. I've been an admirer from afar from more years than I care to remember, but of course way back in the 1990s it was near impossible to be exposed to the diversity of music which the internet and decent connections allows now. So, despite my advancing years and dwindling stamina, I'm pretty excited about music again.

So, tonight was Pivo Pivo's 10th Birthday celebration. This cellar venue near Central Station has hosted an incredible range of talented folks over the past few years, and it's hard to believe that it's a decade since the venue opened. Tonight started gently though with widely-tipped singer-songwriter Alex Cornish. There's no doubt that he's a talented guy with an ear for a radio friendly tune - which his recent BBC Radio 2 session is testament to. But for me it's all just a little too easy, and lacks an edge. A Dire Straits cover is a step too far, and appears to be done with no sense of irony. It's interesting to compare this to the young acoustic acts who played at the 13th Note a couple of days back - and to realise that they really want to be heard. Having said that, Alex closed his set with a song which featured a rather fine violin loop. I'm a sucker for violins, but I can't forgive 'Brothers In Arms' even for that.It just wasn't for me.

Next up was Andrew Jones performing without a band tonight, but for the first time with a female co-vocalist. She was nervous it was plain to see, but her crystal clear and pure voice worked beautifully alongside Andrew. Whilst not a million miles from Alex Cornish, the sense of purpose and self-belief was much more evident, and we got a witty and charming set, the highlight of which was 'It Happened Another Way' - a cautionary tale of bookshop literary romance which I'm sure many will relate to, the current writer included!

And so to White Heath. I've tried and failed to describe this band before - and I'm not sure I'll succeed now. They shamble on stage, a collection of rather slight, somewhat geeky young men of the sort you'd expect to ply Oasis covers at a sixth-form disco. And then all hell breaks loose... Eschewing a traditional rhythm section, trombone and a single bass drum are used to startling effect. Over this piano, guitar and violin are laid, building an epic - almost filmic - sound, which occasionally hints at eastern and oriental influences. As a second song, without pause the band roar into 'Election Day' from their debut EP, the vocals turning into a pained, plaintive howl while the trombone tries to take the song into Eastern Europe or the Middle East. '7:38am' and 'Leviathan' follow with Sean Watson promising "some pop music next". We're not disappointed, as the band romp through the comparatively sunny 'GG' before returning to their apocalyptic roar with 'Blue'. The crowd can't respond favourably enough, and the band are clearly touched by the response. Now signed to the legendary Electric Honey imprint (who have previously championed Belle and Sebastian, Snow Patrol and Biffo Clyro among others) critical acclaim and widespread exposure can't be far off for this remarkable and truly original band. I'm so pleased I was able to see them.

As I stumbled back to my adopted home for the week via a guilty visit to the Blue Lagoon, I reflected that I'd been somewhat spoiled for music this week. However, all being well, the run of fine Scottish music won't stop just yet with Kid Canaveral due a visit to home turf next week! It's been a varied, enjoyable and tiring week - and I only wish it could continue!

Julia & The Doogans and Emma Pollock - Paisley Arts Centre

Posted in SHOFT on Friday 22nd October 2010 at 11:49pm

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I'd been to Paisley once before...I'd decided to fly up to Glasgow on a whim, and soon realised that the associated hanging around and the time wasted at the airport quickly made my much loved train journey a very sensible option. However, on the return I'd used the rail-bus link to get back to the airport, just to do a little extra track. I remember descending from the platforms at Gilmour Street to a grey evening and the minibus endlessly circling quiet, menacing estates on the way to the terminal. I'd not taken away the best impression.

Today dawned wet and grey, with some filthy weather predicted. I spent the day in record shops and drinking coffee, using a break in the rain for a wander down Byres Road for old times sake. Booking my ticket back in August, I'd envisaged a golden autumn evening in which to reappraise Paisley - it was pretty clear I wasn't going to get one. So stepping out of Gilmour Street and into the Town, rather than the backstreets, I was quite surprised to see a little bustle of activity around the Square. A new shopping centre was mostly closed for the day, except for a supermarket on the corner. However, I did note the presence of three separate chain betting shops next door to each other - either a bit of neat licensing and planning work, or an indication of the population's overwhelming propensity to gamble. Moreover, I noted some impressive buildings around the town, the red sandstone churches and municipal buildings dominating the area south of the station.

I headed for the Arts Centre, with the intention of having a pint first. I popped into a newsagent on the way to grab a paper, and almost kicked a chap sitting on the step, drinking mouthwash. Here I almost got angry because I didn't want to have to tell these kind of anecdotes about a place which was struggling hard to drag itself through difficult times, but he was minty fresh proof that Paisley wasn't a picnic just now. I found a fairly sensible looking pub, and ordered my beer - noting the barmaid giving me a very strange look. I thanked her and offered my cash and she stopped and fixed me with a glare. It seems my politeness had been mistaken for a chat-up line! I explained I was English which seemed to satisfy her immediate concern, and she noted that the locals only ever said thank-you when they were propositioning her. I eyed the large bouncers who were looking on with interest at our prolonged conversation, and decided against any attempt at witty response.

So, to the Arts Centre. A rather fine old church converted into a permanent arts venue. Stepping inside, a busy little cafe and reception greeted me, and I stopped for a coffee while the Music Industry Panel concluded in the auditorium. This meant a passing nod to DJ Vic Galloway as he popped out for a cigarette - thus completing the set of prominent Scottish radio celebrities for the trip! Sizing up the audience, they were certainly 'arts centre' material. Having been in the top quartile age-wise for the past two nights, I slipped down to the middle here, with some serious looking local 'arts' folk in evidence, sipping gingerly at beakers of red wine and talking about exhibitions in 'town' - which surprisingly, given the culturally diverse and exciting city on their doorstep, appeared to mean London!

First up, and to be totally honest the reason I'd trekked out here tonight, were Julia and The Doogans. I've loved Julia's songs since first hearing 'Collide' and had always hoped to have a chance to see her play. Tonight the band was small, but made a big sound with Jennifer on keyboards and Renata on cello. This conjured a lush, deep sound to counter the clear, high vocals. I don't often use the expression, but it was utterly beautiful to hear. Julia herself appeared nervous but soon got into the swing of things, playing among others 'Diamonds', 'Come Home', 'New York City' and 'Answer' which only exists as a demo as far as I'm aware. She intended to finish with a solo tune in 'Glasgow' - but a guitar tuning issue meant she decided to sing this acappela - a brave move but one which earned her rapturous applause from a tricky crowd.

The headline act tonight was former Delgado Emma Pollock. Two albums into a solo career she has proved that she justly shared the songwriting credit for her former band with some clever, often rather complex pop music. I confess her most recent record The Law of Large Numbers hasn't really clicked with me yet - but in listening to it last weekend to prepare for tonight, I recognised some really fine songs which I wanted to hear live. The set combined these with a handful from the first, rather more direct 'Watch the Fireworks' album. It was fantastic to see how much fun her live band seemed to be having, with multi-instrumentalist (and impressively bearded) Jamie Savage demonstrating a dizzying range of skills in particular. Standouts for me were the stunning 'I Could Be a Saint' and storming 'Adrenaline'. A thoroughly enjoyable set, which got the seemingly rather staid audience whooping and hollering towards the end.

So, back to Gilmour Street in the rain - and finally something of a reprieve for Paisley. The Arts Centre is a gem of a venue, despite it's deeply uncomfortable seating - and that they have the vision to book bands like these is heartening indeed. For my own part, I caught sight of my developing beard in the train window and realised with some horror that I resemble Henry VIII somewhat. Perhaps I should leave that to the professionals too?