Natasha Khan (aka Bat For Lashes) has done it again on her second album ‘Two Suns’. Her evocative, breathy style continues to beguile audiences as the mystical, enchanted landscapes of her psyche traversed in ‘Fur and Gold’ move into the metaphysical ‘emerald cities’ and constellations of heartbreak and recovery of ‘Two Suns’. Journeying is a more than apposite metaphor to describe listening to this album – the penultimate track is even entitled “Travelling Woman”.

Opening with faintly murmured lines from the Song of Solomon, itself a Biblical allegory of the relationship between the individual and God as husband and wife, we know instantly that this will be a spiritual and emotional journey. The tribal beats and cries which recall Kate Bush’s “Running up that Hill” on “Glass” set our adrenaline going for an album which documents Natasha Khan’s response to a disintegrating relationship.

Her lyrics have an innate sense of the poetic; recent single “Daniel” describes the ‘cinders and rain’ of a relationship before a ‘sheet of rain’ falls down upon her heart, set to a haunting sound-scape which echoes Fleetwood Mac at their best.

Other tracks linger on planetary orbs of light and dark and an alter-ego called Pearl, showcasing a sustained interest in duality throughout Khan’s writing, whether it be the duality of the self; the relationship between lovers or the doubling within nature. The themes of duality are apparent on the exquisite album artwork: the beautiful front cover is surely influenced by Frida Kahlo’s work and is already my tip for best album sleeve of 2009.

Such beauty and attention to detail saturates Khan’s otherworldly yet accessible musical style, which knits together pop (“Daniel”), dance (“Pearl’s Dream” has a real Donna Summer vibe), spoken word (“Good Love”) and the avant-garde in wonderful symbiosis.

Her new band (which includes former Ash member Charlotte Hatherley) have built upon the experimental folk of ‘Fur and Gold’ to create a more electronic, physical sound which moulds itself around Khan’s misty, hypnotic vocals. She sounds like a mystical forest nymph yet expresses such longing and insecurity, we aren’t daunted by her ethereal presence; we empathise with her intricate poetic yearnings and reach the end of the album sharing her feeling of acceptance. Khan has the unique ability to hold our attention whilst weaving our emotional experiences into her song and is a natural star; the fact that she does so without compromising her vision merely increases her allure.

Watch “Daniel” video:

Buy Music:

Bat For Lashes on amazon.co.uk

Bat For Lashes on amazon.com

Photo Credit: Brooke Nipar

Bat For Lashes Official Website
Bat For Lashes MySpace
Facebook

By: Lindsey Davis

The immodestly named Emmy The Great (I can just hear the detractors baying already) has been making waves on the festival circuit for a while now, and at long last she’s released a long player we can listen to in the comfort of our homes.

Reminiscent of Belle & Sebastian’s early output, ‘First Love’ has the power to disarm and reward you anew on repeat listens. It contains songs with simple, unobtrusive melodies masking idiosyncratic, literary and often acerbic observations of modern young relationships, the lyrics delivered in Emmy’s clear and confident voice.

Emmy will no doubt be dogged by comparisons to last year’s anti-folk darling Laura Marling (ooh, that rhyme was accidental, I promise), and there are certainly lines of intersection between them: both are young, precociously bright, and boast some of the finest and distinctive female voices the UK scene has seen for a while. However, whereas Marling’s lyrical leanings are more opaque and general in the way that only pure poetry can be, Emmy’s are more specific and intellectual.

She references Patti Smith in ‘Easter Parade’, Dylan in the Celtic hued ‘Dylan’, and mocks the likes of The Libertines and their mythologizing of a beautiful Albion (’There’s no Arcadia…Underneath your pastures green there’s earth and there’s ash and there’s blood’), all with a cockiness which far from being irritating, is actually quite refreshing. Just because she’s a girl with a guitar doesn’t mean she has to get 100% maudlin and moany Joni on our asses.

Take the way she deals with a lazy boyfriend obsessed with the TV show 24, ironically mocking his red rimmed eyes with the antics of the show’s protagonist (’You are still not Charles Bukowski … [The] man on the screen, he has done more in a minute than you have achieved in your whole entire life’), or her recollections of listening to Leonard Cohen with an ex in the album’s title track: ‘the thought of you is burnt on my body from the first time you did rewind that line from Hallelujah/The original Leonard Cohen version.’ The mischief with which she squeezes this in betrays an appealing self-awareness and sense of humour also present in one of my favourite album tracks, ‘We Almost Had A Baby’, where the possibility of an accidental pregnancy gives her some bargaining power over a feckless boyfriend: ‘I would have liked to/Have something above you’.

So…it’s fair to say that this album suggests Emmy’s had her fair share of relationship issues, but thankfully there’s no self-indulgent, protracted agonising: she’s evidently enjoying flexing her lyrical muscles and would rather make the most of her playing and singing than self-analyse. This means she often strays into a rather dark, gallows humour – on ‘MIA’, she relays a car accident and how, blood smattered and surveying the aftermath, she ponders the pronunciation of the singer MIA’s name.

It’s great to listen to a female singer-songwriter who manages to have attitude and be enchanting without either a) falling into the trap of obnoxiousness as Lily Allen can sometimes, or b) becoming so sweet and delicate-sounding that she threatens to disappear into insipidity, as Isobel Campbell often does on solo offerings (and believe me it pains me to say that).

Emmy’s voice has a body and charisma which enunciates each word plainly, without feigning some kind of urban street cred or faux naïve whispers. The pretty and unfussy musical structures of each song mirror this vocal delivery, being predominantly reliant on simple arrangements between string instruments and rollicking drums.

Although the melodies mask sometimes disquieting lyrics, that’s not to say Emmy’s words can’t also be more straightforwardly emotional (’I hear your name/It’s like a choir in the sky’). Unfortunately, this is where things can become less interesting and the success of the album threatens to crash all around her in a morass of cutesiness. It’s on tracks like the forgettable ‘City Song’ that things become that most terrible of adjectives, for both artists and reviewers: nice.

Thankfully this doesn’t happen too often; Emmy seems to know her own strengths. This is a debut which bursts with intelligence and which manages to provoke emotion without manipulating listeners with well-trodden lyrical formulas or clichés.

Emmy has been a fixture at Oxford’s Truck Festival for a couple of years now – she was already given billing on the main stage in 2008 and I suspect that she will appear much, much nearer sunset in 2009.

A small, dainty and pretty girl with a formidable intellect, ‘First Love’ is as close to aurally imagining its creator as can be. Recommended.

Emmy The Great on amazon.co.uk

Emmy The Great on amazon.com

Emmy The Great Official Website
Emmy The Great MySpace

By: Lindsey Davis

Leonard Cohen review, O2 Arena, London – 14 November 2008

Have you ever seen Annie Hall? If yes, then you’ll recall the scene where Alvy dates a music journalist played by Shelley Duvall and they emerge from a Stones concert, Duvall’s character rhapsodising about how the gig was ‘transplendent’. Well before you go any further, I should confess: that was me, after witnessing the legend that is Leonard Cohen in London.

After a hellish journey from Oxford to London and then to North Greenwich, we found ourselves slightly late, hungry and cranky. Now anyone who knows me will testify to my horrendous hunger grumps. So it’s no mean feat that three hours later, I was in seventh heaven. Like Leonard advised, we forgot the past and were transported to another place by a performance which is best described as sublime.

Dressed in a pin-striped suit and rakishly tilted fedora, Cohen looked ice cool. He and his band gave the appearance of a thirties era group of gangsters, their iconic appearance matched in panache by a set in which it was clear Cohen meant every word of his poetic and mystical lyrics. A magnificent “Hallelujah” was a case in point.

The laughter lines around his eyes may have belied his 73 years, but the way he skipped on and offstage, teasing us with yet another encore, hinted that he took a youthful glee in the pleasure he generated in the adoring crowd. Cohen acknowledged his absence from the touring circuit with his usual charm and a humorous eloquence: ‘It’s been a long time’, he admitted, following this with a wry, ‘fifteen years, I was just a kid with a crazy dream’.

This self-awareness and gentle humour inflected Cohen’s every gesture with a disarming humility and grace, which was evident in the generous relationship he shared with his band. Collaborator and singer in her own right Sharon Robertson was given solo duties on “Anthem”, showcasing a seemingly effortless and creamy, fulsome voice. Cohen also afforded backing vocalists The Webb Sisters a spot, with Hattie on harp adding an angelic quality to harmonies evocative of Alison Krauss or the Carter Family. Cohen stood back in the shadows for their stints, literally taking his hat off to them and holding it to his heart in a respectful and gentlemanly manner which indicated he was as beguiled by their performances as the rest of us.

Cohen’s entire band were nothing short of flawless, and in the cavernous and corporate space that is the O2 the entire audience were drawn like magnets to the stage, spellbound by a set both flawless and utterly soulful – we could have been in an intimate and cosy jazz bar, such was the way Cohen held us in the palm of his hands. He’s a legend without even trying: dapper and iconic, his words and his philosophy get right to the heart of the human condition.

Given his advanced years and godfather like status in the annals of music, never more have lines such as ‘I was born like this, I had no choice/I was born with the gift of a golden voice’ and ‘I ache in the places I used to play’ seemed more pertinent and moving. It was an inescapable fact that we were in the presence of a true legend on Friday night and there was thankfully no sense of it being underwhelming, as so often the case with such feted figures – I feel genuinely honoured to have witnessed the man himself. Cohen proved an inspiring and elegant presence whose lyrics are an honest and, I would argue, necessary soundtrack to the revolutions of life in all it’s permutations. As he recited some of his poetry, I reflected that his words give no trite answers, but great comfort and hope.

I’ve never understood why people find the work of this wonderful man depressing; I see hope more than anything else in lyrics like ‘There is a crack, a crack in everything/That’s how the light gets in’. A rousing rendition of “Democracy” in the encore sums this up – both timely in the wake of the American Democrats victory as well as impassioned, it stirred the whole audience up irrespective of nationality. The beauty of Cohen’s songs are that they implore us to strive beyond the mundane towards a spiritual otherness much, much greater than the physical, whilst still embodying a deeply sensual quality. Seeing him live really encapsulated this power- as I looked around my companions I saw the same rapt expression in their eyes accompanied with a irresistible urge to sway and move in time with the movement of the music, mouthing the words to classics like “So Long Marianne” and “The Tower of Song” as if motivated by a deep collective unconscious.

Cohen’s performance was both gracious and professional; his deliciously rumbly voice has acquired an even greater patina of wisdom as he’s aged which made some tracks seem like sermons from a great sage. Highlights for me were the elegiac and tragical “The Partisan”, “In My Secret Life” and of course, “Hallelujah”, which moved me to tears – I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.

A septuagenarian who still has the capacity to totally seduce both men and women with his song, he is truly a very special individual whom I still keep pinching myself to believe I’ve seen! What most impressed itself on me was how at peace with himself Cohen seemed; he joked that he’d explored the philosophy of religions and tried ‘prozac, effexor … ‘ and all number of medications, but found that ‘cheerfulness kept breaking through’!

He may have been talked into doing this tour, but he genuinely seemed to be enjoying it and in the unlikely event that any remaining dates are not already sold out, I would urge you to get along to a gig, whatever it takes (yes, even if that means leaving the country – he’s that good). Seeing Leonard Cohen was a life-defining experience and I don’t care how much hyperbole I’ve employed in this review – I will never forget the three hours of magic he gave to me.

Transplendent, just transplendent.

Leonard Cohen on amazon.com

amazon.co.uk

Leonard Cohen Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis

Last night (4 November, 2008) I witnessed two sets from Martha Wainwright and her support act Angus & Julia Stone that couldn’t be more different. One look at the crowd told me the majority were lefty (I’m one too, before I sound like a fascist!), middle class professionals who were there for Martha first and foremost and who’d probably heard about her through the Observer (heck, an English teacher from my high school was there). However, by the end of Angus & Julia’s set they were clearly won over to their curious alt-folk – and quite right too.

Enchanting ingénues Angus & Julia Stone beguiled the crowd with their pretty folk sound in a set characterised by honest to goodness talent and quiet charm. The elaborately designed domed ceiling of the Oxford Town Hall was beautifully lit and gave the appearance of a fine lace cover over the stage which set off the pair’s delicate and breathy vocal styles perfectly. Julia’s witchy delivery was particularly spellbinding and a new track from Angus which peaked in an angry, rockier chorus was also notable.

It really is astonishing how talented the two are. And how they can put up with each other on the road. I don’t think my brother and I would last a day on a tour bus together! Their backing band are equally gifted.

Guitarist Clay had taught himself drums especially for the tour after their regular drummer was taken sick and he showed himself to be pretty proficient on the old skins. An unecessary apology for any mistakes (none that I could spot) was given before a rumbling and throaty “A Book Like This”, which was the high point of the set for me – that and an old song the siblings had written at band camp some years ago on the hoof which incorporated “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” and provoked gentle chuckles from the crowd.

Given their wonderful music, it’s especially striking how shy the pair are – Angus in particular seemed content to hide behind hair and hat and left most of the inter-song banter to sister Julia. I guess they were new to most of the crowd last night but I predict that sales of their album will definitely increase after this tour finishes. I do love them so. “A Book Like This” is definitely one of my favourite albums of 2008 – possibly even my most favourite. They sound and look like they’ve stepped out of your most lovely imaginings and I hope their success builds and sustains over time. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

In contrast to the winsome humility of Angus & Julia, Martha Wainwright was her typical showy self – a presence massively opposed to her support but which was nonetheless compelling. Martha is herself one of famous siblings, and I couldn’t help but wonder as I watched her extravagant gestures and evident pleasure in being on the stage, what teatime at the Wainwrights must have been like with all those performers jostling for attention in one room. School friends must have been made of strong stuff to visit, for sure! The venue’s baroque décor suited Martha’s ostentatious and emotive vocal style perfectly. Boy can that woman belt out some tunes. By the time she got to singing a jazzy number in French, I concluded as a mere mortal, that’s just showing off …! “You Cheated Me” and a closing cover of Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play” were my personal highlights although at times an overwrought and bombastic vocal style proved a little too much to take.

Martha’s between song patter was tongue in cheek and a million miles away from her confessional music, and was certainly evidence of her professionalism as well as a charismatic and dramatic personality. Thanking her excellent band and support as well as technicians alike (she rightly pointed out the sound men did wonders in what must have been a tough space to work with), she was slick and classy without sounding insincere. In fact I’d say her patter was refreshingly chipper and much welcome after the emotional gymnastics of her songs.

In all, gold stars are due to both acts. My fondness for Angus & Julia was admittedly my main reason for going and they didn’t disappoint; but credit where it’s due to the main act: Martha gave a set which no one could criticise for being sloppy or indifferent – she’s a born entertainer with a voice that demands to be heard. Now, thank you.

Martha Wainwright on amazon.com

Martha Wainwright on amazon.co.uk

Martha Wainwright Official Website

Angus & Julia Stone on amazon.com

Angus & Julia Stone on amazon.co.uk

Angus & Julia Stone Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis

In keeping with the history of glamorous pop trios, The Pipettes have undergone what they call in the business, a line up change. In that the band are effectively a brand new entity, with none of the original members left. But any preconceptions the audience might have had of inter-band awkwardness or forced camaraderie seemed to have been left at the door. And if there was any residual concern within the crowd, the band’s carefree attitude would have immediately dispelled such fears.

Polka dot prom dresses and co-ordinated dancing filled the space in the upstairs of the Carling Academy in Oxford (October 26, 2008) even before the Pipettes came on stage, in homage to the trio’s vintage style. There was a party atmosphere to the gig from the offset, which injected some much needed glamour and kitsch into the Academy’s stark surroundings.

When the ladies sashayed on stage, led by a suited band, they certainly looked amazing. The charismatic Gwenno, the longest standing member, introduced newbies Anni (also her sister, trivia fans) and Anna, and led the way into what was a good old fashioned knees up. The changes in Pipettesland didn’t seem to have dented the quality of music – the new songs were as infectious as the likes of “Pull Shapes” (they did); “Dirty” and, like the band’s matching eighties style outfits, there was a hint of eighties pop infusing the newer material which was well received.

Of course it was the oldies people wanted to hear and they weren’t disappointed – not only did tracks like “ABC” see the audience boogeying and handclapping with the best of them, they also treated the crowd to the girl’s choreography. OK, so it wasn’t up there with the likes of the Pussycat Dolls, but it looked like the threesome were having damn good fun. Their harmonies were pretty much bang on the money and I admit to being pleasantly surprised by how strong their voices were live. The Pipettes are pure pop with a credible indie cachet which means that their live show should definitely prove a success in any student town – and in my opinion, should be successful in a more mainstream sense as well.

This was quite possibly one of the shiniest, poppiest, and damn right catchiest gigs I suspect has graced the precincts of the Carling Academy for a long time. The band’s retro leanings recall Phil Spector’s girl groups but with a postmodern twist.

Live, they proved they can more than hold a tune. After listening to the Pipettes’ attitude-filled Betty Boop style pop, there’s only one question left to be answered (and it’s rhetorical): Who needs Girls Aloud?!

The Pipettes on amazon.co.uk

The Pipettes Official Website
MySpace

By: Lindsey Davis

Since seeing Martha Wainwright at Wychwood Festival a few years ago, I’ve followed her career with interest, always suspecting that the real vocal talent in the Wainwright siblings didn’t belong to her more flamboyant brother but actually Martha herself. Incidentally, I’ve also always really envied her incredible legs, which if Pretty Polly don’t wake up to and offer her an advertising contract sharpish, they’re fools to themselves.

Said legs are paraded seductively on the album cover, which was taken by former YBA (actually – good point – when do you stop being a YBA?) Sam Taylor Wood. The involvement of such a figure, along with a gaggle of musicians including Garth Hudson, Pete Townshend, brother Rufus and mum and aunt Kate and Anna McGarrigle respectively, serve to up Martha’s credibility ratings. Not that she needs to worry about such issues as being cool. The voice (hereon referred to as ‘The Voice’) alone confidently sweeps such anxieties aside without even trying.

On this, her second album, her vocals do more than prove she has not just a fine pair of lungs on her but that she is the real deal: she can go from sounding coy and girlish to wearying and experienced in the space of an octave (”I Wish I Were”).

Like her debut, this LP is similarly emotionally honest (what else can you say about a debut boasting a song title like “Bloody Mother Fu**ing A**hole”?!). Although there are still some allusions to her father Loudon Wainwright III, on this outing she seems more interested in documenting heartbreak – oddly perverse given that she’s recently tied the knot. But when has Martha (or indeed any of the members of her famous family) been accused of being conventional? She and brother Rufus have subjected their father to well documented slaggings in previous songs and the drama of their family life has claimed many column inches in the music press. I won’t labour over it all here, simply because to do so would detract from celebrating the immense affection I feel for this album after only a handful of listens. Martha has a voice that immediately lures you into her psychological landscape; a landscape which is fascinating not only because it lists aftershows and all the paraphernalia that comes with being a child of rock royalty, but also for the sheer depth of raw feeling it conveys.

And those feelings are not just intense. There’s breadth as well as depth to offer here. Yes Martha’s still angry, but on this album we traverse a wide range of emotions, from melancholy to desolate to hopeful and desiring. “So Many Friends” perhaps best sums up the album’s peripatetic emoting. From the wistful “I have lost so many friends/I have gained so many memories” to the excitable “I live and breathe for the rush when we touch”, the track encapsulates the whole album’s tendency to emotional see-sawing and sucks in the listener completely. “The George Song” is more playful: Martha’s voice seems to gurgle and tease as she upbraids a lover for liking Captain Beefheart:

“You played the captain/And I will, I will never understand/ Why you love the beef heart/More than you could love the common man”.

This lyric stakes her claim to a place in musical history, scoffing at it’s patriarchal lineage just as she has her biological paternity. This place is guaranteed on the basis of this album alone; she is much, much more than a footnote to her famous parent’s biographies. She sings with such style it’s impossible to dispute the fact that this album is one of those clichés beloved of music hacks – an instant classic.

“You Cheated Me” is so in your face pop I’m surprised it isn’t A-list on every radio station going; whereas “In The Middle of the Night” is one of the album’s darkest moments – a response to her mother Kate McGarrigle’s cancer – with Martha’s chilling wails set against backing vocals from Rufus, brooding flutes, guitars and ominous, building drums. The tune evokes an Easter-period Patti Smith and the effect is as spellbinding as it is menacing.

The tracks couldn’t be more different but both allow That Voice to demonstrates its natural range. The whole album dips into a variety of styles: from the pure pop handclaps on “Love is a Stranger” through acoustic folk and rock all the way to the gloomy, bluesy “Tower Song”, the album drips with melodies.

Opening track “Bleeding All Over You” is reminiscent of Tori Amos undergoing psychoanalysis, and sets the tone for a dramatic group of songs which at times also recall Carole King or Fleetwood Mac (but glammer). Yep, there’s a distinctly middle of the road leaning to many of the musical arrangements. But this shouldn’t put you off – the way Wainwright’s voice relays her romantic travails is sensational; she wrings every last drop of emotion from each line in a marvellously dramatic way. It shouldn’t work – how many times have you winced at the vocal gymnastics of the likes of Mariah Carey or Celine Dion? But it does.

The only time things slip – tellingly – is on the covers (Pink Floyd and The Eurhythmics). They’re okay, but nothing more. An artist of Martha Wainwright’s talent doesn’t really need to rely on covers. When you compare them to the spooky “Jesus and Mary” they merely seem quaint, surplus to requirements. That’s right – she’s also got a way with words. Not fair is it?!

I’m going to stop effusing now, but before I sign off let me say that Martha Wainwright has a natural poise and grace without sounding contrived, or threatening to smother the emotional histrionics that she is famed for.

This is a classy album that will appeal to the serious music fan as well as more casual listeners who are partial to Madames Winehouse and Duffy: I have every confidence it will make an appearance in the inevitable top ten albums of 2008 lists later this year. It’ll certainly be on mine.

MySpace

Martha Wainwright Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis

2008 marked the eleventh Truck Festival in the normally sleepy Oxfordshire village of Steventon. Not to be mistaken for an event celebrating all things of the vehicular variety, Truck represents one of the precious few independent music festivals still going strong in the UK and has grown in fame and prestige over the last decade. No corporate slogans for this event; rather you can expect to see the local vicar pouring pints as the Didcot Rotary Club serve you up a burger and chips.

Founded by Joe and Robin Bennett, Truck is a truly unique affair: a mixture of the village fete and the music festival, it celebrates some of the finest music – new and old – you can possibly expect to enjoy over two days. Past years have seen acts including Garth & Maud Hudson, The Futureheads, Regina Spektor, The Magic Numbers and Mystery Jets do their thing on the stages, one of which is comprised of a truck (hence the name), another a barn.

For 2008 there were some new stages, including the Village Pub and Pavilion, offering even more choice than before at this loveable boutique festival. This year was my sixth Truck and I arrived on Saturday pleased that the weather was one of those wonderfully English summer days – no, not rainy you joker you – a genuinely lovely sunny day with a mild breeze and fluffy white clouds in a picture book blue sky. Which – given last years floods – was no less than a miracle for an event that was postponed after entire marquees were swept down the fields in 2007.

As usual the punters were spoilt for choice, with established artists like The Lemonheads doing sets alongside up and coming artists such as Noah and the Whale and Stornoway. Truck line-ups are never anything less than idiosyncratic and that’s why it’s so thoroughly charming.

Where was I? Ah, Saturday. Aside from a mildly shambolic set from Television Personalities there were plenty of highlights. These included an energetic set from Little Fish, a rock duo whose singer Juju has an intense, PJ Harvey vocal style and a whole lot of charisma to boot; and an utterly magical performance from Emmy the Great.

Emmy the Great – Photo: Lindsey Davis

As the breeze ruffled her hair and bubbles floated across the sky and into the fields beyond the stage, Emmy had a rapt audience at her disposal – a rare feat for an artist on so early in the day. As she stared into the sunlight, I am sure I wasn’t alone in wondering how big she would be this time next year – the girl has star quality whilst never seeming cocky. The enchanting voice, the looks, the likeable presence … Her folky music is married to winning lyrics which have a humour and self awareness that prevent anyone from making accusations of her being twee or overearnest. And boy has she got fans! Even at this early stage in her career, a hardcore group were eagerly standing at the front and bantering with her, which she clearly relished. She’s one to watch that’s for sure.

The Ralfe Band had a hard act to follow on the Truck Stage but acquitted themselves well, their brand of quirky pyschedelia going down well with the audience. From them we wandered off to the Market Stage for the nostalgia fest that was Dodgy. Anyone who was a teenager in the mid nineties will recall with fondness (or minor irritation) the jingly jangly indie pop produced by the Brummie threesome, and it was on this basis we found ourselves in the crammed circus style tent singing along to classics like “Good Enough” and “Staying Out for the Summer”.

Dodgy – Photo: Gina Policelli

The band sheepishly knew their audience and kept new tracks to a minimum, drummer Matt getting highly into the spirit of things. You can’t keep a good Brummie down! It was all very good fun; the band were consummate professionals and played a polished set which you’d have to be pretty curmudgeonly to walk away from and criticise.

I then stayed behind to catch Martin Simpson, whose name readers might recall from his days supporting Steeleye Span but who deserves credit on his own terms. One of the finest guitarists I’ve seen play in a long time, I was lucky enough to bag a place at the front of the audience and watch his precise, skilful fingers as they worked their magic on his guitar.

I should also add an apology to Martin here, for forgetting to turn the flash off my camera and inadvertently letting off a blinding light only a few songs in. The picture was unfortunately blurred so that’ll show me to be so inconsiderate! Sorry (hangs head) … Anyhows, back to the music. It was fascinating to watch him play and I adored listening to the wonderful tales his songs relayed, including “Highway 61″ and the moving “Prodigal Son”, which he dedicated to his father. My own father recommended Martin to me and after seeing him live, I’m very glad he did. Martin had a warm stage presence and seemed comfortable to casually chat away to the audience, telling us that the previous night he’d played a town hall and was off to play the Royal Albert Hall the next night. What a wonderfully diverse triad of venues to do in the space of three days – evidence if any was needed of his love of playing no matter where!

The Market Stage then played host to Noah and the Whale which, having returned to it after grabbing a drink, we found so crammed it was impossible to get in. We headed off to see Okkervil River instead. Although they initially sounded like they were rattling around the large Truck Stage a little lost, things soon picked up and as the dusk fell, the band gave an increasingly assured and sprawling set. Their ornate folk rock and multi-layered instrumentation was perfectly pitched against the clear velvety skies and backdrop of whispering corn fields; and singer Will Sheff’s yelpy vocals were seemingly unaffected by his frenzied jumping around the stage.

They were more than a match for headliners The Lemonheads, who as a certain special guest argued very sweetly the next day, just didn’t seem like they wanted to be there. After deserting the silliness of hyperactive Klaxons-esque Munch Munch for Dando et al, I was left cold by the band’s absolute minimum of engagement with the audience. Their choice to play the entirety of album ‘It’s a Shame About Ray’ proved to be a bit off – with the eponymous song played early on in the set, there was no ‘favourite’ for the crowd to wait for and the band seemed oblivious to all notions of whipping the crowd up. They were good, yes, but ultimately left no greater impression.

So although Saturday ended a little flatly with the much-feted headliners detached from spirit of Truck – i.e. the sense of fun and inclusion which artists and audiences rightly love it for – Sunday more than made up for it. By this point I’d already seen Romeo Stodart of The Magic Numbers wandering around the site and been so excited I could barely speak, and spent most of the day eagerly anticipating his set.

Whilst I waited and tried not to embarrass myself by approaching him, I took in Tristan & the Troubadours, Indigo Moss and Luke Smith. T&TT are a bunch of GCSE students whose age belies their evident knack for a tune. Their sparkly pop, backed by piano and violin amongst other instruments, is amazingly accomplished and these teens really are too cool for school. They seemed impressively comfortable on stage and put me in mind of a less geeky Belle and Sebastian. They even have their own backing singer! And a good name. Which is immeasurably helpful given the raft of crap names teenagers give their bands. These kids don’t need me to tell them they will do well – they seem to know it already.

Engaged couple Trevor Moss and Hannah-Lou, who go by the name Indigo Moss, also played the Market Stage. Their cute rockabilly music takes in bluegrass along the way and their set mesmerised the audience. They were an apt match for the festival’s bucolic setting and were timed perfectly to gently wake people up after Saturday’s excesses. They drew some of their own peers too – Danny (of Danny and the Champions of the World) and Magic Numbers members all sat spellbound by the set. I must single out Hannah-Lou’s voice especially for praise; she’s got a pretty special sound and I want to hear more of her!

It was then off to see Luke Smith in the new tent the Village Pub. Canterbury-based Luke Smith specialises in cabaret style, piano led observational songs rich in wry humour and bearing titles like “I Like Being Cosy”. Now some would say he is irritating. Not me; I love him! I was charmed by him at a previous Truck and made a special effort to see him this year, where his attempts to get the packed audience not to join in drew much laughter. He’s lovely. From one hirsute wonder to another, I made sure I had a good view of the nicest man in music, Romeo Stodart. Yes, he was the special guest who along with bandmate Angela Gannon performed on Sunday evening.

Romeo from The Magic Numbers – Photo: Gina Policelli

Romeo is an artist who totally gets the Truck ethos and who, having mingled – or in his own words – been ‘led astray’ – by the punters the previous night, happily bantered with the crowd. And yes, it was him who very politely suggested that a certain Mr Dando could have thrown himself into the sprit of things a little more. He gave a lovely set of pared down Magic Numbers tracks with Angela providing accompaniment and showing off her angelic voice, which could honestly make grown men cry it’s so pretty. Danny of Danny and the Champions of the World joined for a song and a bit of a mutual appreciation society was formed which proved utterly heart-warming.

I then made a fantastic new discovery in the form of the politicised and impassioned Frank Turner, formerly of Million Dead. Wow. His lyrics are something else. And he has the tunes to back them up too. Combining the star quality of Bruce Springsteen with the polemics of Billy Bragg, he gave a magnificent performance which at the point in the day when revellers could easily flag as they wait for the main acts, drew a big crowd and made me and many others prick their heads up with immediate interest. Turner has a voice that urges you to listen and honest and powerful things to say, and delivers his messages with a conviction and intelligence weighted with authority and panache.

Laura Marling headlined the market stage and after much debate I decided I would eschew Get.Cape.Wear.Cape.Fly for the Berkshire-based songstress. The tent was spilling over with people and expectations were high. After what seemed like an age she finally came on and my first impression was: wow, she’s teeny! Followed by extreme jealousy of one so young and talented (yeah, she’s 18, yada yada yada … Enough about her age now!).

She exhibited remarkable composure in the face of such adulation and the complete purity of her voice hit me anew upon hearing it live. Sounding immaculate, she proved the beauty of her vocals on record is no engineered fluke. She delivered a set comprised mostly of songs from her debut ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’, plus a new track (Rebecca) and an encore of Five Years’ Time, that Noah and the Whale track on which she supplied backing vocals.

The set was, in short, sublime. Unperturbed by the idiots talking for the beginning of her set, who totally ignored the subtle and growing intensity of “Shine”, she projected a calm aura which soon transmitted to the audience, which was amassed of hyper kids, older folkies, and mid twenties former hyper kids like your good reporter. Everyone was transfixed a controlled yet delicate performance from Marling and her band, who live, lent the songs a greater thrust and body than on the album. As the drums and piano kicked in on My Manic and I and Night Terror, carving out a powerful backdrop for her clean and resonant voice, she treated the audience to some memorable hairs on the back of your neck moments. I’m sure those who saw her headline will agree that it is not overstating the matter to predict that it will become much harder to see her in a few years from now. If she’s this good before she’s out of her teens (I know, you can’t avoid it), what will she be like in Five Years Time (sorry – couldn’t resist)?

In all, Truck 11 was another wonderful weekend with wonderful artists. Although there seemed some underestimation of the popularity of some bands and a subsequent mismatch between stage and artist (Laura Marling in the Market Stage?), this is a minor gripe. The sun shone benevolently upon the festivities and topped off a weekend of quality music which introduced new artists and also reminded us of how great some of the established acts are – in short, it did exactly what a music festival should do. An event which is all about community, passion for music and a relaxed attitude to life, long may the Trucking continue.

By: Lindsey Davis

I’m Not There, a daring and innovative film inspired by Bob Dylan and directed by Todd Haynes (Velvet Goldmine, Far From Heaven), takes various stages of Bob Dylan’s life and career and reinterprets them to the soundtrack of his music. Unlike Factory Girl, in which a character apparently based on Dylan forced his lawyers to threaten to sue the makers, this movie received his blessing. It’s easy to see why: Haynes shows a respect for his subject and the shape-shifting and multiple identities Dylan has undergone over the years, by re-enacting this tendency in film and employing a variety of actors to portray aspects of Dylan’s persona over time.

Each of the actors is given their own narrative loosely based on actual events and interviews from Dylan’s past: Marcus Carl Franklin plays a young black version of Dylan who calls himself ‘Woody’ and thus represents the beginning of the artist’s career, when he styled himself on folk singer Woody Guthrie; Ben Whishaw plays the ‘poet’ Dylan styled after Arthur Rimbaud; Heath Ledger plays Robbie Clark, a Hollywood actor estranged from his wife Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and children, representing Dylan the star refracted through his personal life; Christian Bale plays Dylan as a young, politicised folk singer and later becomes ‘Pastor John’ (Dylan the born again Christian); Cate Blanchett plays Jude Quinn, or Dylan at the height of his fame in the 60s, when his original fan base rejected him as a sell-out for going electric; and Richard Gere plays the older Dylan as a Billy the Kid figure in a surreal and haunting Wild West town. All stories are filmed in a style unique to each character and are informed by cinematic history: from cinéma vérité to Fellini, Goddard and westerns.

Narratives are spliced throughout, taking you from Woody to Billy in an unpredictable but oddly fitting manner. There are many beautiful set pieces which could easily be extended and beautifully directed music videos – notably those in the Billy the Kid story, which features some stunning moments set around the bandstand, where Billy stands up to his nemesis Pat Garrett in a rustic, circus style setting. Revisiting the movie upon its DVD release I was struck anew by what seems to be perfect casting – particularly that of Cate Blanchett, Heath Ledger and Charlotte Gainsbourg.

Much has been said about Blanchett’s performance, which really captures Dylan as he was in the 60s (see D.A Pennebaker’s documentary Don’t Look Back). Choosing a woman with Blanchett’s luminous beauty was a risky strategy but it pays off. Her performance illustrates just how alien Dylan appeared to people in the 60s: androgynous, full of riddles. Her every move, gesture and even the timbre of her voice is uncannily and inherently Dylan – culminating in a memorable confrontation between Jude and a journalist in the back of a car.

Heath Ledger’s performance is shot through with pathos given his recent death; already ensconced in the more emotive parts of the film, his scenes were even more moving given the circumstances and it was difficult not to feel choked seeing him so young and fresh on the screen. He and Charlotte Gainsbourg offer us a more personal, intimate story than the rest, portraying the start and finish of a relationship very movingly. Their naturalistic performances give the impression of a couple’s life together in what constitutes only a segment of the film’s wider whole, and they deserve praise for their success in realising this in so short a space of time.

The rest of the cast also acquit themselves well: as usual Christian Bale performs with intensity and integrity and Marcus Carl Franklin is impressive as a man-child searching for an identity. Even Richard Gere was less smug than usual. Ben Whishaw delivered some powerful monologues but the character of Arthur was less tangible than the others and only seemed there to provide some way of knitting together the disparate stories.

In all, this movie does well to emulate the slippery nature of Dylan’s own self-mythologizing and delivers a series of unforgettable stories strung together by his music.

And the DVD extras? They include a passionate and intelligent commentary from Todd Haynes that gives an account of how much research and dedication went into the movie. Given the restraints on location (the movie was shot entirely in Montreal which had to stand in for London, Greenwich Village and the wild west) and time, the sense of commitment from everyone involved is clear from Haynes’ words.

There’s also a set of informative interviews with Haynes and a lovely video tribute to Heath Ledger. A mini documentary on the making of the soundtrack is also worth a look. It features an interview with Sonic Youth’s Lee Ronaldo, who produced much of the album. Considering the film itself features a mesmerising reworking of “Going to Acapulco” from My Morning Jacket’s Jim James and Calexico, a discussion with the guy who had the fearsome task of reinterpreting a selection of Dylan’s songs for contemporary artists simply had to be on the cards. However, it was a shame that there weren’t more interviews with other artists involved in the soundtrack, such as Eddie Vedder or Richie Havens (who is also in the movie). It would have been nice to hear their thoughts on the project. On that note, I’d have liked to have seen some cast interviews as well.

I won’t split hairs. There’s a written contribution from Greil Marcus for goodness sake! And it’s the movie that’s the thing. I’m Not There stands up to and becomes even more enjoyable on repeat viewings, and supplemented with the background information currently available in the Extras, is something I would advise Dylan and movie fans alike to invest in. Although you come away with no greater knowledge of the legend himself, your appreciation of Dylan’s work is all the greater for stimulating creative and original endeavours such as this.

I’m Not There (Two-Disc Collector’s Edition) on amazon.com

I’m Not There [2007] on amazon.co.uk

Bob Dylan Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis

Whilst Scarlett Johannson has been appearing on the cover of the NME and making videos featuring Salman Rushdie as she sings along to Tom Waits songs, another young Hollywood actress has also been making waves in the music world – albeit quietly, and, it must be said, more proficiently.

I refer to Zooey Deschanel, star of movies including The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Almost Famous and the forthcoming The Happening. Deschanel has sung in a few of her movies, most recently as the cabaret artist in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and also in Will Ferrell’s ‘comedy (ahem)’ Elf. She demonstrated she possessed a clear, character-rich voice which could knock the socks of more established ’singers’ and was itching to be recorded.

For her first Long Player Deschanel has joined forces with alt-country musician M. Ward to form She & Him. So far, so cool. The result does not disappoint. The pair are nigh on pitch perfect for this venture into the world of classic pop/rock, effortlessly blending the sounds of sixties girl groups and Dusty Springfield. Volume 1’s third track “This is Not a Test” is the most obvious fusion of these styles and is retro without sounding camp, which just about sums up the entire album.

Other highlights include “Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?”, which as Rolling Stone rightly pointed out, finds Deschanel sounding incredibly like Carly Simon. It seems her voice is a diverse performer, channelling a variety of styles and coping well with the challenge. “I Was Made For You” is full of catchy choruses and “dum dum de dah” harmonies; an enjoyable Grease-style pop song which you can easily imagine Deschanel donning a prom dress for as she struts her stuff in a fifties musical.

Just to add to the praise, with the exception of the covers, all songs were written by Zooey Deschanel and instantly etch themselves on your brain, charming you from the very first listen. Fellow actor Jason Schwartzmann co-wrote the short ditty “Sweet Darlin’” which only makes me love him that bit more. Complete with hand claps and rolling drums, “Sweet Darlin’” has the feel of vintage soft rock – I’m thinking Fleetwood Mac for today’s indie hipsters.

M. Ward proves a credible and well chosen musical partner. His production ensures that the album sounds as though unearthed from a time capsule, traversing the fifties through to the early seventies without missing a beat. Deschanel’s cool credentials, already pretty high, are only bolstered by his involvement. Ward has worked with fellow folksters Bright Eyes, Beth Orton and Cat Power, as well as having co-produced Jenny Lewis’s “Rabbit Fur Coat”. There are moments on Volume 1 which are reminiscent of Lewis’s album; but this effort has a much more upfront pop feel – it feels younger in spirit somehow.

It’s telling that the weaker tracks are the covers, which include a cover of The Beatles’ “I Should Have Known Better”, accompanied by luau-style guitars and bongos, and Smokey Robinson’s “You Really Got A Hold On Me”. The duo just about get away with it – but the songs lack the spark you hear elsewhere on the album and are perilously close to being twee minus the charm of the other tracks.

So. Zooey Deschanel. Indie movie star pin up who can also cut it in front of a mike. You’d want to hate her if she weren’t so damn good. Forget the hype around Scarlett Johannson’s take on Tom Waits – Zooey Deschanel is the real deal.

She & Him – Volume One on amazon.com

Volume One on amazon.co.uk

Zooey Deschanel on IMDb

She & Him Myspace
She & Him Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis

Like Plant, we hail from West Bromwich in the heart of the Black Country (indeed, my dad frequented the same drinking hole as Planty) and wondered what the leonine rock god must make of the changes to the ’second city’ since he last strolled its streets. Gone are the grubby factories and warehouses, replaced by shimmering glass towers and a slick, cosmopolitan atmosphere. We were certainly struck anew by the city’s transformation as we wandered down the canal-side before the gig.

It seems Brum is not the only thing to have changed – there’s no trace of a Black Country twang in Plant’s voice and his partnership with Krauss on ‘Raising Sand’ is a departure from the heavy rock of his Led Zeppelin days. It’s also the stuff of music critics’ wet dreams: a beautiful bluegrass angel collaborating with the hoary old man of rock to make one of the finest and unlikely parings in recent musical times.

Anticipation was high for this, Plant’s homecoming performance. From a purely anthropological bent, there was also much fun to be had in identifying fans there for Alison Krauss and those there for Robert Plant. Needless to say there were ponytails aplenty on men of a certain age and later in the evening, some head-banging in the aisles to some of the rockier numbers. Of course I can only speculate that they were Led Zep fans …

But before I discuss the main act … the support. This was Scott Matthews, Wolverhampton-based urban-folk troubadour whose band and he were, he cheerily confessed, ’shitting ourselves’. The local feel of one up-and-coming Black Country lad supporting another made good, set a nice tone and the audience warmed to Matthews fast. He opened with the beautiful “Dream Song”, arguably his best work to date, and gave a soulful and professional support to the main act.

As “Rich Woman’s” swampy guitars kicked in, Plant and Krauss crept out from either side of the stage each looking a million dollars. There’s a strange kind of symmetry seeing them live, all big blond hair and even bigger voices, although this is as far as the visual resemblance goes. In her diaphanous, floaty dress with her perfectly coiffed hair, Alison Krauss looked like she’d been whisked in from Stepford; whereas Robert Plant, wearing block colours and some pretty fine winkle pickers, looked every inch the rock god. He trod the stage like a caged animal for the first few songs, a mesmerising “Sister Rosetta” and “Through the Morning, Through the Night”, and I like to think it did the old boy some good when he finally let rip on tracks like “Nothin” – it certainly looked and sounded like it!

The two were on fire; their voices were nothing short of awesome and melted into each other’s tones perfectly. “Stick with Me Baby” was mesmerising. I’d expected them to sound good, but this good? Krauss’s demure presence belied a torrent of feeling conveyed through her singing which was by turns eerie and angelic. Her rendition of Tom Waits’ “Trampled Rose” was goose-bump inducing and her violin playing exceptional. Her voice was as sweet as honey but more penetrating than any I’ve heard in a long time, filling every crevice of the cavernous NIA.

Despite the obvious difference between her vocals and Plant’s blues wail, his voice was equally on form. He sang as if he wanted to tear the audience’s eardrums out on tracks like “Gone, Gone Gone” and an old Led Zeppelin track (that’s the head-bangers happy then).

By far his finest moment was on “Fortune Teller”, an amusing old standard on which Alison supplemented his bluesy delivery with haunting backing vocals. Of this track he confided that he’d first come across it in the ’60s and that only two others knew it – he got ‘free prescriptions and a long memory’ he self-deprecatingly joked.

On other songs his sound was more restrained, allowing the gravely textures of his voice to reveal themselves in a wonderfully new way. The two were generous to each others’ performances, stepping back to spotlight the others’ strengths through songs which ranged from the old standards from “Raising Sand” and beyond, to blues, country and soul.

The legendary T-Bone Burnett, a black-clad, narrow and angular presence on the stage, was met with adulatory cries of ‘you the man T-Bone!’ from an enthusiastic crowd when he performed two of his own tracks. Krauss nodded to his producing the score to ‘O Brother Where Art Thou’, on which Krauss sings, when she threw in “Down to the River to Pray” with Plant joining in for backing vocals.

To see the three on stage together, their chemistry and obvious ease with each other, was a live crystallization of the successes of ‘Raising Sand’ and was really something. In short, the gig was a triumph. Robert Plant & Alison Krauss made it look so easy and surpassed the elegance of their recordings. Long may the partnership between the bluegrass beauty and rock beast continue.

By: Lindsey Davis

Regular readers will recall how much I love Angus & Julia Stones‘ album ‘A Book Like This’, so it was no surprise that I hotfooted it to Oxford’s Jericho Tavern (28th April, 2008) to catch the antipodean duo in action, accompanied by photographer Gina Policelli. We were not disappointed.

The small venue got increasingly crammed as people jostled to find a space from which they could gaze adoringly at the duo. We were in good company: no less than Romeo from the Magic Numbers was in attendance, which occasioned much excitement from your roving reporter (as anyone who knows me can well imagine). It appears he’s friends with the band as well as a man with exceedingly good musical taste. Off to a good start, then.

The venue itself was perfect for the kind of intimacy Angus & Julia’s music lends itself to – small enough to create a connection with the audience yet large enough to withhold the crowd the band drew. Adorned with leaves and large cut-outs of the picture book-style images from their album cover, the stage had a distinctly bucolic look and the band had a chilled, yet festive vibe. The festive, rural atmosphere extended to the band’s appearance: Angus and Julia looked beautiful, dressed like they’d stepped out of a medieval tableau – travellers of old come to regale the denizens of Oxford with their musical wares.

Opening with the sublime “Mango Tree” with Angus on lead vocals, followed by Julia taking the lead with “Hollywood”, I was struck by their incredible musicianship and slightly breathy, perfectly pitched though totally contrasting vocal styles. Although their voices have very different characters, in performance I noticed a breathy similarity which at times made their harmonies sound as if from one person. Their differing styles fuse to make something utterly distinctive; Angus’s deliciously crisp yet delicate voice providing a backdrop to his sisters crackling lilt – just as Julia herself returned the favour, supplying backing vocals to Angus’ wistful cadences. They took turns on lead vocals, offering the audience a set full of whimsy and feeling.

From the taut guitar of “Paper Aeroplane” to the melancholic trumpet of “Private Lawns” and the stirring harmonica on “The Wedding Song” (dedicated sweetly to a friend and/or anyone in love and in the mood for ‘making babies’), the pair proved it’s more than their vocal dexterity which makes them so beloved of musos and non-musos alike. Their voices were just two of the instruments they used to great effect. They are fine musicians: it was incredible to watch Julia effortlessly switch between guitar and trumpet (oh – she also plays keyboards too! All this and a very pretty dress to boot), and Angus looked extremely iconic as he strummed and picked his guitar and played harmonica.

Backed by Mitchell Connelly (the third member of the band) on drums and Clay MacDonald on bass for the occasion, all four were clearly in their element and looked very comfortable with each other. Crucially, they looked like they were having fun. Angus made a few gentle quips and Julia danced and skipped merrily around the mike in an endearing and elfin manner. The siblings bantered with the audience before their encore, assuring us that the rhythm section – who totally endeared themselves to the crowd – would return for a final track.

One of the final songs proved that the band can put their talents to pretty much anything; their experiments the musical equivalent to the successes of the Gold Rush prospectors in their birthplace Australia over 150 years ago. They took two totally different songs and managed to mine sensory gold from them: a mash-up of Joy Division’s “Transmission” and the Beach Boys’ “Barbara Ann”. Incongruous? Yes. Bloody brilliant? Yes again. That the band pulled this off to their own delight as well as the audience’s says it all.

This is a band who are all about sentiment and adventure. Just as the album tells a series of stories, their performance was a playful, meandering scene which stole everyone’s hearts. The duo’s voices sounded beautiful, the gig a credit to their emotional pull of their song-writing. They came across as very likeable and down to earth, hanging around the venue afterwards to their more ardent fans’ glee. They even signed my companion’s CD whilst I – star struck – stammered some praise in an embarrassing manner. Whilst my verbal praise may not have cut the mustard, I hope this review says it all. A very lovely night was had and thanks to the band for showing us how it’s done.

Angus & Julia Stone Official Website
Angus & Julia Stone Myspace

By: Lindsey Davis

Lizzie Nunnery is a 25-year old Liverpool-based singer/songwriter to watch out for. A prolific writer and incredible talent, not only has she been writing and performing her own music for over ten years, she’s also an award winning playwright. Her most recent play, “Tiny Chaos” was broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in April, 2008.

Lizzie’s first EP ‘Monkeys and Devils’ was released in 2006 and showcased a soulful, folky sound which set a high precedent for her latest EP, ‘Hungry’.

‘Hungry’ more than lives up to its predecessor and provides ample cause for comparisons to artists such as Joni Mitchell or Nick Drake. Lizzie’s is the same brand of delicate, confessional folk with wonderfully intelligent and emotive lyrics and quietly confident, dextrous turns on the guitar. Yes, Lizzie is one of those ludicrously gifted people who can write and perform with equal (and exceptional) skill.

It is the voice which first hits you: tremulous with feeling but with a body and strength which gathers momentum effortlessly as the tracks unfurl. The EP’s title track, “Hungry”, is the perfect prism for each facet of Lizzie Nunnery’s captivating vocals to shine through; the vocals begin softly enough but work up powerfully to express both a sense of sadness and slight anger. “Hungry” is a beautiful lament on the disappointment of lost love and Lizzie’s voice is at its most shimmering and affective. Similarly, closing song “Concertina” presents Lizzie’s enchanting voice in a live setting and illustrates her vocal range wonderfully.

Lizzie’s lyrics are both conversational and subtly poetic, demonstrating a huge awareness of the power of words when used effectively:

“We were drunk and don’t remember anyway
That’s the account we gave of it the next day
I remember clearly not being near you
Things we didn’t do and didn’t say … you not telling me not to be free”

The sense of regret for what could have been and the time wasted on an unrequited love is palpable and creates a huge impact in the listener. Without condemning either party, Lizzie’s words force the listener to review their own romances and behaviour – surely a sign of an exceptionally talented lyricist.

Opening track “Pubs That Never Close” also taps into a common experience, evoking the feeling of dragging “high heels home” from town after a big night out. Her deft guitar picking and a moody, distorted violin create a melancholic and brooding atmosphere perfect for the lyrics’ reflective tone.

Lizzie is someone who knows how to use language intelligently; she doesn’t use it to show off but to create emotions in her listeners, and her lyrics have a poetic economy which is startlingly insightful. Take “Not My Heart”, in which a failing relationship is documented against an incongruous but actually pretty effective ukulele:

“I was never a fire in your blood/I was a bird in your hand”.

By fusing the poetic and the colloquial, Lizzie raises the well-worn musical topic of bad relationships above tired cliché. She may be following in a folk tradition but her skill as a wordsmith is very original, with a gentle wit alongside moving content. Her singing style also signposts her separateness from the jostling crowd of female singers out there: clear and focussed, technically impossible to criticise and with the same kind of purity as the brilliant Joan Baez. At the same time, her soft Liverpool dialect nudges into her delivery to create a great sense of warmth, feeling and larger sense of individuality than many of her female contemporaries.

All songs are arranged by Lizzie and multi-instrumentalist and producer Vidar Norheim, and the result is testament to their accomplishment as musicians as well as each track’s natural charm.

The EP is beautifully produced by Vidar, who, whilst crafting a polished and professional sounding collection of songs, allows the natural qualities of Lizzie Nunnery’s voice to shine through to promote a feeling of intimacy between singer and listener.

Highly recommended.

Lizzie Nunnery Myspace
Lizzie Nunnery

By: Lindsey Davis

OK, so I’m in love. With a brother and sister from Sydney, Australia. But before you jump to any conclusions, this is not a recipe for some Channel 5 ‘documentary’. Anything but, in fact. I merely refer to Angus & Julia Stone’s first long player, ‘A Book Like This’.

Their last release, the 2007 EP ‘Heart Full of Wine’, established them as a duo with relaxed, sunny harmonies of the folk variety – you may have heard the tracks “Private Lawns” and “Mango Tree”.

‘A Book Like This’ continues on this theme and is utterly, utterly lovely. Each track unfolds slowly and wraps itself around you beguilingly, with vocal duties shared between Julia’s witchy, Joanna Newsom-style singing and Angus’s outpourings, which sound like a slightly gruffer Nick Drake. Backed by acoustic guitars, shuffling drums, piano and occasional strings and harmonica, the pair’s offerings come off like a more accessible Devendra Banhart or a kookier Magic Numbers – surely no bad thing.

The album is comprised of sensitively crafted and delicate ditties such as opener “The Beast”, a poignant meditation on the frenetic pace of modern life; or the captivating love song “Wasted”. The title track, smack bang in the middle of the album, is a creeping and impassioned plea to a lover with some wonderful guitar work towards its conclusion.

The band’s lyrics have an essence of the fairy tale about them – but a fairy tale laced with darkness. For instance, on “Soldier”, Julia wails: “I’m the darkness but I want to be the light”, as if under a spell. They could easily soundtrack a Tim Burton film, something like Big Fish or Edward Scissorhands.

It’s Julia’s voice which provides the highlights for me, accompanied by Angus’s wonderfully melodic backing vocals. However, at times her brother’s more conventional vocals are welcome, to avoid Julia’s deliciously raggedy intonations becoming grating.

Tracks like “Hollywood”, a meditation on the way movies mislead us (”Cinderella would of scrubbed those floors til her hands/Grew old and tired nobody would look her way”) typify this fey quality; an aspect of the album which might put some off. Jaunty tracks like “Stranger”, on which Angus takes lead vocals, are a welcome respite and help keep the listener’s interest. The bluesy “Jewels and Gold” recalls a latter day Neil Young with a twist.

Subtlety is the key to this album. Its songs are extremely pretty (as are the band actually!) and ostensibly fit within the folk tradition, but calling them a folk act is not to undercut the muscle which expands each track as it gets going. With the spring tentatively showing itself in the UK, this enchanting album is perfect to sit back and listen to, glass of wine in hand, window open, as the wind gently ruffles your hair.

Angus and Julia Stone are on tour in the UK from April-May 2008.

Angus & Julia Stone on Myspace
Angus & Julia Stone Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis

The predominantly male crowd were equally keen – the crowds were heaving to get in, many backs adorned with Neil Young tour T-Shirts of old in tribute to the Canadian legend. The crowd was comprised of many an aging Young acolyte accompanied by their wives, but there were some younger couples present too, which only goes to show the draw this man has across generations. Whatever the age of the audience however, the enthusiasm displayed by the majority of the crowd was infectious. From the minute he stepped on stage he was deluged with requests for songs and cries of ‘We love you Neil!’

The Apollo is a gorgeous venue; it felt rather civilised to take a seat amongst its art deco style interior and take in the surroundings before the artists came on stage. Young’s wife Pegi provided support as people filed in and displayed a beguilingly sweet voice and assured stage presence. However, most people were waiting for the main attraction and Pegi’s performance was akin to musical wallpaper – pleasant enough, but no match for the main act.

The stage itself was decked with scrambled letters which at the end of the gig spelled out Neil, giving it the appearance of a cross between a primary school classroom and motor garage, the latter evidently a nod to Young’s current album ‘Chrome Dreams II’. An artist painted pictures throughout Young’s two sets, all bearing a relation to each song and placed on an artists’ easel for the crowd to admire at the beginning of each track. This was really interesting to watch and a clever and creative idea.

Young himself had an affable stage presence and shuffled about the stage casually, clearly very at ease with himself. His two vastly differing sets gave everyone in the audience a bit of what they fancied: one acoustic and folky set with Young predominantly seated and playing keyboard or guitar in a white suit; the other heavy, energetic and rocky with Young donning a black suit seemingly splattered with paint (and which the artist also painted!).

The acoustic set was lovely and really showcased all that is good about Young’s tremulous, fragile voice – a voice which was the same thirty years ago and still as fresh as it was back then. Comprised mostly of his earlier songs, the highlight of the set was Harvest’s “Old Man” which has added poignancy now it is sung by a 62 year old. “Ambulance Blues”, always a sad song, was also performed with a dignity and respect for his material despite its familiarity; and “Cowgirl in the Sand” was just spellbinding. The whole set was intimate and gentle, with little chat from Neil barring a cheeky wave when an audience member implored him to say something!

The gritty, punkish rock of Young’s second set was in steep contrast to this cosiness and seemed to revive Neil as much as the audience, who stood for many tracks, moving in perfect time to the rhythm of the music with hands punching the air. He’s still got it, that’s for sure!

A stirring “Down By The River” was just incredible, bluesy and dramatic with some brilliant musical performances from his band (including the wife on backing vocals). The band seemed to play as one, and modestly took a backseat to Young’s lead. The sound quality was faultless and he and his band gave tight and confident renditions of all the songs.

Where Young’s voice could seem a little nasal and strained on some of the rockier tracks, this was offset by the way he played guitar, dextrous and full of fervour. Each track was evidence of Young’s unique skill as a guitarist. His every move and gesture displayed utter absorption in and love for his craft. In other words, Young really rocked out.

Notable tracks included the grungy rock of the fun “Dirty Old Man” and the punkish “Hey Hey My My”. I must confess I flagged a little during the twenty minute opus “Ordinary People”, from ‘Chrome Dreams II’. However you couldn’t be churlish and accuse Young of self-indulgence as his passionate performance was further evidence of his musical gift. Plus, he was much more chatty in this half, energised by his pacier songs, and it was lovely to have a little more banter.

All in all this was a great show enjoyed by all – as the rapturous demands for an encore suggested. At over two hours it was great value for money and a wonderful experience. The only issue which mitigated against total pleasure in the evenings performances was the intense heat in the venue.

Two women in nearby rows actually seemed to be nodding off and I can only attribute it to the insane heatwave generated by so many people packed into a venue with absolutely no air conditioning. It actually got unbearable at times and this was a real shame given the otherwise successful night. But to end on a high, as Neil did: Keep on rockin’ in the free world, readers!

Neil Young Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis

Support came in the form of Vincent Vincent and the Villains, who were great fun. A London-based four piece who sound like Franz Ferdinand doing the flamenco, they opened with a growler of a track called “Beast”, which was propelled by a heavy bass line and a thudding, insistent drum beat.

Singer Vincent Vincent was extremely charismatic and really won the crowd over, encouraging people to join in with the band for single “On My Own”, providing handclaps alongside drummer Alex Cox’s pulsing beats. This was the most well-known track amongst the audience and its ska-infused rockiness was well received.

New tracks including the next single “Pretty Girl” also met with a positive response and it’s easy to see why. The band are extremely professional, slick musicians who look and play the part. They engaged in lots of tongue-in-cheek rock posturing with their (very spangly) guitars and lead singer Vincent was dressed in what appeared to be a matador’s jacket. Their fifties rock-with-a-twist would be perfectly suited to a Tarentino score and certainly set the mood for Richard Hawley and his band’s cinematic sound. I look forward to hearing their debut album ‘Gospel Bombs’, set for release on 25 February, 2008.

Now for the star attraction … Hawley’s adoption by Radio 2 DJs, 2006 Mercury Prize nomination and 2008 Brit nomination have seen him embraced by a diverse audience stretching far beyond former indie kids like myself. The audience at the New Theatre in Oxford served to prove this, comprised of a huge cross section of people from teenagers all the way up to OAPs! Many a senior citizen seems to like Richard Hawley because he reminds them of Roy Orbison, and as Hawley strode on stage in an immaculately cut silver lounge suit and brylcreemed quiff, he typified a fifties music idol.

The faded opulence of the New Theatre was a fitting venue for his music, especially given that the audience was seated as in ‘the old days’ – I felt transported back in time to a world of stockings, skiffle and the birth of rock and roll. The spinning glitterball atop the stage reinforced this illusion, setting the scene for a memorable night.

Hawley’s lovelorn and wistful songs recall old time courtships backed by landscapes of sweeping strings and Shadows-style guitars. For the tour, the strings were replaced with keyboards and a laptop but there was no discernible difference between the sound on the albums and that generated by the keyboardist. The performance Hawley and his band gave was faultless: tight, assured and full of obvious love for their craft. Plus, the former string player in me always delights in seeing double basses used live: the rockabilly number “Serious” was darn good fun.

Richard Hawley’s seemingly effortless crooning is both seductive and tear-jerking, and he and his band were magnificent. They perfected a sound which matched that on the albums, but without seeming clinical or lacking in passion. The sparkling and hook-laden “Tonight The Streets are Ours” was the exception to this in that it actually seemed to transcend the quality of the original – no mean feat! Accompanied by piano and his band, Hawley gave a spirited performance of the track and never have the lyrics, which afford the working classes a grace and dignity the modern media would prefer them stripped of, resonated more.

He followed this up with a luscious and elegant rendition of “Lady’s Bridge”, which he cheekily informed the audience was “not a euphemism”. Whenever I hear this track I am never clear whether he is singing to a lover or his hometown of Sheffield (Lady’s Bridge is a bridge in Sheffield which separates the poorer areas from the rich), but I feel their conflation makes for a truly emotive song which appeals on both levels. These tracks were placed at the heart of the performance and were for me, the gig’s highlights, along with stunning, harmonica-accompanied covers of “Lonesome Town” and “Lonesome Tonight”. They elegantly evoked a real sense of longing and nostalgia.

Hawley’s timeless love songs and paeans to Sheffield give a grace and elegance to the loves of ordinary people and his performance was in keeping with this. His between-song patter fondly referred to his Nan (for whom “Lady Solitude” was written) and his ‘lass’, all with a down-to-earth and modest demeanor which was utterly charming and genuine. He displayed a great sense of humour and eagerness to engage with the crowd and was also extremely generous towards his band, with whom you can tell he has a great relationship. The rest of the audience obviously agreed with me as we all joined in vociferous demands for an encore. These were rewarded with ‘I told you I’d be back’, and a stonking finale which closed with the gorgeous “The Ocean”, which for one last time allowed us to witness that as well as being a lovely man and talented singer, Hawley is also a fine guitarist. The performance was mind-blowingly epic and is one I will never forget.

Richard Hawley is currently on tour -

February 2008 tour dates:

Wednesday 6th Southampton, Guildhall 02380 632 601
Friday 8th Manchester, Academy 0161 832 111
Saturday 9th Glasgow, ABC 08444 999 990
Monday 11th Leicester, De Montfort Hall 0116 233 3111
Tuesday 12th London, Astoria 0871 231 0821 / 020 7287 0932
Thursday 14th Galway, Roisin Dubh
Friday 15th Dublin, Vicar Street
Saturday 16th Belfast, Mandela Hall
Monday 18th York, Opera House 0870 606 3595
Tuesday 19th Buxton, Opera House 0845 127 2190
Saturday 23rd Festival para Gente Sentada, Cine-Teatro Antonio Lamoso, Santa Maria de Feira, Portugal
Sunday 24th Malaga, Teatro Cervantes

Tickets: generaltickets.com

Richard Hawley on Myspace
Richard Hawley Official Website

By: Lindsey Davis