Written by Jonathan Aird | 21 September 2011

John Grant has been caught up in a simple twist of fate.  It's a well-known story now - a couple of years back he was on the verge of giving up on music and getting a full time translating job.  The Czars had split, nothing much was working out, and then Midlake pretty much insisted he make an album at their studio, with them as a backing band.  And suddenly the album "Queen of Denmark" is topping everyone's album of the year polls; he's in demand for solo gigs and in 2010 undertakes a prestigious tour opening for Midlake.  The wheel of fortune has taken a half turn and suddenly John Grant is riding high.  And deservedly so.  Here he is, having gone from just about nowhere to selling out the RFH.

A major plus for tonight is that his backing band is, again, Midlake, which offers the chance to hear the fully developed songs from 'Queen of Denmark'. However, the hope that Midlake will also be the opening act is somewhat dashed by the appearance on the bill of Lanterns on the Lake, who had started their set by the time I managed to get to the Royal Festival Hall.  Lanterns on the Lake are, without doubt, a band who are at home on Bella Union.  They have the sound - Stephanie Dosen fronting Explosions in the Sky - and they have the look - 1/6th angsty, 1/3rd geeky and 1/2 just having a good time.  The brittle ice crystal crackle of their songs fly on a common trajectory towards an ear assaulting wave of noise, bowed guitar, booming drums and then silence.  And if that has a hint of faint praise about it then it shouldn't - that's a formula that will sell me copies of your EPs with great facility.

John Grant.  Tall, relaxed looking, in scruffy jeans and an ancient suit jacket.  And happy.  And chatty.  And pleased to now have a crowd that listens in silence and applauds to the rafters.  Initially he's onstage with just his regular accompanists - Chris Pemberton on keyboards and Fiona Bryce on violin and backing vocals.  The first two songs are new ones - a taster of what's to come when he finds time to get back to the studio, and he is still as bitter and biting and scathing as you might hope him to be with the vitriol of what he refers to as these "I wish you were in a wheelchair" songs.

Somewhat surprisingly when his "boys" take the stage it's for 'Sigourney Weaver' and 'Marz' - two of the biggest hitters on the album, at least one of which I'd thought would be encore material.  These both feature science fiction references as metaphors for disconnection from reality, and in a way this is carried forward by the follow on the super funky "Chicken Bones", only here it is alienation by human hand.  And whilst Midlake cut loose and rumble around on a groovy bass line, John shows off his, perhaps surprisingly limited, dance moves.

Hearing the songs live, with the full richness of the studio recordings and a small glimpse into the world of mutual support and respect that they were created in, and with John's voice just so perfect is a beatific experience.  And that songs so peppered with self-hate, anger and disgust can at the same time be so perfect that they raise the listener to a higher state of joy is the result of this magical blend of musicians, songwriter and a warm expressive voice.

This is something of a valedictory concert - as John Grant takes time between songs to individually thank, with bantering bonhomie, the members of Midlake for their generosity to him.  There are hugs.  There are pledges of love on both sides.  Sounds cheesy and self-indulgent?  Well not from where I was sitting.  Heartfelt and genuine and (although he has a few gigs left to do) as John himself said "it's been eighteen months and it's time to wrap this shit up and get onto the new album".  Queen of Denmark is a great album, but the man has more music to offer us.

And look at that set list - mostly the anger and angst forms the first half of the set - the spikey, quirky, confused and disappointed songs, then the second half is pretty much the love songs, the songs that ooze beauty, the songs of longing and aching.  John Grant elegantly proves that he is adding to the Great American Songbook with 'Drug', 'Where dreams go to die' and 'It's easier'.  'Caramel' is going to be a sizeable hit for whichever female singer takes it mainstream, but no-one will ever sing it better than its writer, revealing the higher registers of his range, and the depths of love he is capable of.

'Queen of Denmark' is a huge set closing performance, Midlake beautifully creating the gentle backing for the verses and the wild abandon of the I can't stand it anymore choruses - light effects adding to the gleefully wild assaults on the drum kit by a full three band members.  And what a universal lyric - "Why don't you take it out on somebody else ?  Why don't you bore the shit out of somebody else ? Why don't you tell somebody else they are selfish ? A weakling, coward...".  If you've never felt that way then I hope you enjoy your sainthood.

The encore reveals that John Grant is learning to reclaim his music from The Czars - and really why let songs as good as 'Drug' (already revived on Queen of Denmark) and 'Little Pink House' linger in the forever unknown backwater of a band that should have been bigger, but wasn't ?  Maybe an album or two down the road we can look forward to "John Grant sings The Czars".  Maybe.

Was this a good gig?  More than good.  This was one of the special ones.

Set List

You don't have to

Vietnam

Sigourney Weaver (with Midlake)

Marz (with Midlake)

Chicken Bones (with Midlake)

Silver Platter Club (with Midlake)

Jesus hates faggots (with Midlake)

Outer Space

Fireflies

Drug

Where dreams go to die (with Midlake)

TC and Honeybear (with Midlake)

It's easier (with Midlake)

Queen of Denmark (with Midlake)

Encore

Leopard and lamb (with Midlake)

Paint the moon (with Midlake)

Caramel

Little Pink House

Written by Mike Ritchie | 21 September 2011

The quotes on the flyer stated that David Olney is “a blues-darkened singer –songwriter with a method actor’s imagination” who delivers a show “packed with incident, amusement, contrast and fine, fine songsmithery.” No argument from me there.

In truth, there’s not enough space in this review to capture fully the brilliance, fun, depth, vibrancy and magic of a gig that lasted over two hours. Another two would have had us equally entranced, I’m sure. With the utterly superb Sergio Webb on acoustic and electric guitar adding delicacy and to-the-floor muscle when required, this was a roots/Americana dream team that spoiled us rotten.

I’ve heard chums rave about Olney for quite some time so, thankfully, I can now fully appreciate their excitement and commitment to his music and to attending his gigs as often as possible.

He’s got both an edgy and amusing approach. ‘Way Down Deep’ from the Dutchman’s Curve release is rough’n’tough, no messin’ blues while Border Crossing’s ‘Waiting For The Cops’ displayed reflective anger, where his decision about the law enforcement officers was deemed unchallengeable.

The spiritual and biblical vibe of ‘Women ‘Cross The Water’ merged the thought-provoking with the profound even. “You might get an education after years of dedication/You might finally get a glimpse of what is right and what is wrong/ But the women 'cross the river; well they knew that all along.” Linda Ronstadt, who is not alone in recognising that Olney is a masterful lyricist, has covered this stunner. Emmylou Harris, Johnny Cash, Steve Earle being among other luminaries to raid the Olney goodie bag of songs.

The wry humour ekes out on ‘Titanic’ which is written from the perspective of the iceberg in the tragedy. The idea came to him on a trans-Atlantic flight when the blockbuster film was part of the airline’s entertainment, “wholly inappropriately” he suggested.  No matter the song delved from his extensive and impressive collection, each was a treat and the set was totally different to one he gave a night earlier, I was told. He closed with a pulsating cover of Dylan’s 'Desolation Row' the glorious and seasoned wordsmith enjoying the work of another equally pre-eminent writer.

Olney, as he told us, might not be able to tune his guitar and talk at the same time – but then no-one is perfect. Once ready to play and sing, however, perfection does kick in. He is riveting and unforgettable.

Written by Jonathan Aird | 15 September 2011

Third time lucky for catching Steve Cropper on this tour - I'd missed the Borderline gig as I'd flown in from Bergen early the morning before and didn't feel up to it, had hoped to get over to St Albans, but just hadn't got my act together, and so was catching the last of the reasonably "local" gigs.  But before I pat myself on the back too hard for my dedication it's worth noting that Steve Cropper had had a slightly more torturous journey - he'd played a gig at the end of the week before, then flown to the States for an Otis Redding celebration, had almost a whole day with his family then flown back to the UK in time to play at a 400 seater theatre a couple of miles outside Milton Keynes.  And he's almost 70.   I should be ashamed.

The format for the gig is - first half all Animals, second half nearly all Steve with the "lads" as his backing band.  Animals & Friends features an original Animal (John Steel - drums), a nearly original Animal (Mickey Gallagher - Alan Price's replacement in the band), and two friends on guitar (Johnnie "guitar" Williamson) and bass/lead vocals (Pete Barton).  Naturally enough they tour (really quite heavily) the Animal's songbook, concentrating of course on the glory years, often with a guest or two.  On this tour though the guest is just a little bit special : Steve "the colonel" Cropper - regular high placer in greatest living guitarist polls, Stax main man (producer, songwriter, member of Booker-T and the MGs, and guitar player on any number of great songs), Blues Brothers band member, and solo artist of some high merit.

In all honesty I'm really there to see Steve Cropper - someone who's playing I've admired for a very long time.  However The Animals turn in a very credible performance - it may be the same numbers every night but there's no feeling that this is a "by the numbers" performance.  It's forty-five minutes of hard hitting British Rhythm and Blues, and if there's something a little odd about still hearing such anthems of youthful defiance as - 'It's my life' and 'Please don't let me be misunderstood' and the perennial classic 'We've got to get out of this place' - well, Jagger is still a street fighting man, and Daltrey still wants to die before he gets old, so why shouldn't this band keep on rocking ?

Steve Cropper takes the stage to deserved applause and proceeds for the next hour or so to prove that he is still as fine a guitar player as ever.  From kick-off opener of 'Time is Tight' through some of his co-written songs - 'Midnight Hour', 'Dock of the bay', more Booker-T numbers - 'Hip-hug-her' and naturally 'Soul Man'he's nimble around the fret board.  Every note, every bent string is right where it should be.  It is a pure joy to listen to.  And he never switches guitars, and he doesn’t retune.

When Steve helps out on The Animal's version of 'I put a spell on you' the interplay between his and Williamson's guitar reaches a Floydian level - taking this raw blues-rocker soaring into some cosmic stratosphere.

It must be a story he tells every night - but John Steel's introduction to 'House of the Rising Sun' raises a laugh with Mickie Most's riposte to the engineer complaining the track was too long to be a single "this is the vinyl age !", and also points out that this multi-million selling recording was made on a 1-track recorder in a dingy London studio one evening between travelling from a gig in Northern England to another the next day in Southampton.   Astonishing, and echoes Steve Cropper’s tales of how he’d write songs in the hotel room, take them to the studio the next day, and the song would be done and dusted and onto the next one by the afternoon.

This band's rendition of the tale of violence, alcohol abuse and prostitution is pretty rousing.  The evening is rounded out with Steve re-joining the band for a knife-fight tight version of Green Onions, devastatingly good as he gives and takes ground from Mickey Gallagher's funked up keyboard riffs.

And, hey, if you missed them then Steve says these boys are like family now - and he'll be back in the spring.  Well, well, my, my, that is good news.

Written by John Hawes | 15 September 2011

It wasn’t easy to tell if the reason for Shoreditch’s Mother Live being absolutely rammed was because of Scoundrels headlining, or because it was free in and free beer.  The romantic would say the former, the cynic the latter and the truth is more than likely somewhere in between.

The thirty or forty people who swiftly moved to the front as soon as Cinemawave had finished were there for Scoundrels and probably saw the clubs largess as a reward for loyal support of their band.  Cinemawave and The Evil Stairs would have had similar minded fans and the balance, well, I think they just came to stroke the walls - shag pile carpet on all the vertical surfaces, not the horizontal ones, just the vertical ones - or to be seen at the opening night of Mother Bar’s new music venue; although exactly how this is ‘new’ escapes me.

If Scoundrels were playing thirty five years ago they would have been in the Greyhound, The Red Lion or The Hope & Anchor.  Their perfect blend of rock ‘n’ roll, rhythm and blues and country puts them firmly in pub rock territory.  As they are generally pretty heavy on the country – ‘Mary Jo’ being particularly twangy, they are more Flyers than Feelgoods.  From opening track ‘Just Can’t See It Though’ to closing track ‘Porno’ Scoundrels didn’t miss a beat (even when lead singer/guitarist Ned Wyndam broke a string).  Their playing was tighter than an alligators arse in a swamp and their vocals had just the right boozy, growly tone.

After half an hour it was all over.  After half an hour they were barely warmed up.  After half and hour they should only be half way their first set before a fifteen minute break and then another hour (and an encore, or two).  Not anyone’s fault of course - you can’t have one band hogging the whole opening party – but, despite the generosity of the venue, I felt less satisfied than I hoped.