Author: birminghamreview

Words by John Noblet

Can you remember those World War II soldiers who, isolated from the rest of their army, hid on a deserted island and didn’t realise the war had ended, decades after everyone else had finished fighting?

Sometimes music scenes work like that – the media declares something to be over, but a small crew continues with the genre; ignoring its declared death, with the fashionable music scene, in turn, ignoring them.

This is undoubtedly a good thing in my opinion. In Birmingham, if you’re in the right place at the right time it can feel like Two Tone never ended. The latest manifestation of this is in front of me tonight at the Wagon and Horses, promoted by Subvert Soundsystem, with relative new comers Malarkey coming on like the delinquent children of The Beat – multi racial line up, culture clash approach to songwriting, varied selection of haircuts (bald head, mohican, corn rows, Sideshow Bob afro) and a pervading cheekiness.

Malarkey’s vocalist, Juggernaut, is a pure joy to watch. A large man of Jamaican descent with deep, Ragga inflected vocals (think somewhere between Buju Banton and Ragga Twins) and a ridiculous amount of stage presence. Guitarist, Kyle, contributes lead vocals on some of the songs, his guitar playing showing the influence of 90’s Grunge bands, fitting in dirty, sloppy riffs alongside the ‘cha cha cha cha’ guitar that so many Ska influenced bands get stuck with.

It’s a strange mix but it works. Malarkey’s distorted guitar and reggae MC aspect is bound to draw comparisons with Skindread, but at present they lack the MTV polish that’s so prevalent in the latter. But tonight’s slightly chaotic feel is also probably due, in part at least, to the drum kit refusing to stay in one place (a brick is found, and then another, but in the end the bassist has to stand on it to stop it sliding about).

Next up tonight is Hip Hop collective Dantanna, who with four MCs, one female singer, two brass, drums, guitar and a magical-music-box-that-does-all-the-other-bits, pretty much cover the Wagon & Horses‘ small stage.

Alongside Malarkey, Dantanna are part of the small circle of bands orbiting Daylight Robbery studios in Hockley, and are led by Hip Hop svengali/ageing Superhands, Dan Skins – who this evening wears a strange red blanket with a green children’s hat and spends most of the night playing tambourine in a corner of the stage, effectively Bezing himself in his own band.

There have always been some good ideas in Dantanna (musically, their chosen approach of Soul backing and high energy rapping is a pretty effective combination) but tonight is the first time I’ve seen them really start to capitalise on them. The variety that comes from having five vocalists means you can do a lot to hold people’s attention, and for most of their set they work this strategy well; the entertainment factor of seeing them all constantly bouncing around up there is high.

Dantanna have also developed a solid sense of onstage chemistry, and the clowning around feels natural rather than choreographed – at one point two of them finish a song whilst rolling around on the floor together, seemingly not dropping a lyric. The act isn’t entirely perfected yet, there’s some talking over each other between tracks which causes confusion, but on the whole tonight’s audience is impressed.

Finishing up the evening is China Shop Bull, a Leeds based band who have been winning over audiences both in the UK and Europe with their Rave/Ska/Hip Hop/Punk crossover. And although they’ve been around for years, China Shop Bull have received almost zero press attention, which says more about the inane nature of the modern media than it does about their music.

Tonight the first few songs seem a little flat, and I’m worried they’re going to disappoint. Interestingly, the spark that eventually ignites the fire is a spontaneous jam that only occurs when the bassist breaks a string – sounding initially like it’s made up on the spot, then morphing into a song of its own accord.

About two thirds of the way through their set, China Shop Bull play their version of the Dead Kennedy’s ‘Holiday In Cambodia’ which instigates a mass sing-a-long, and although their early track, ‘Sandblaster’, may be lyrically out of date (does anyone blast weed with sand any more to make it heavier anymore? Answers on a postcard…) it definitely has a good effect on the audience, who by this point are looking particularly sweaty and deranged.

And with the occasional attempts at crowd surfing, which turn into lads carrying their mates around on their shoulders whilst everyone else bobs about with silly grins on their faces, overall it’s an incredibly fun night. One of the reasons why this small army of misfits keeps getting booked is that they’re absolutely great for dancing to, with their mixture of groove and aggression appealing to a surprisingly wide range of people.

Great though the lineup is, the venue deserves some credit here too. If tonight had been held in one of Birmingham’s more mainstream venues, with their higher bar prices, low quality booze, overzealous security staff and corporate sponsorship agendas, I feel a lot of the enjoyment factor would have been taken away.

The Wagon and Horses‘ combination of 80’s old man front bar and marquee full of nutters out back, is a winning one for me. And those who are either too timid or too snobbish to give it a go are missing out. Long may it continue.

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For more on China Shop Bull, visit https://soundcloud.com/china-shop-bull

For more on Dantana, visit http://www.dantanna.co.uk

For more on Malarky, visit https://www.facebook.com/MalarkeyBand

For more from Subvert Soundsystem, visit https://www.facebook.com/SubvertSoundsystem

For further listings from the Wagon & Horses, visit https://www.facebook.com/wagon.horses

Words by John Noblet / Pics from www.sleafordmods.com

When the economic downturn started a few years ago, it bought out a naive hope in a certain class of music fan. It was thought that recession, coupled with the tightfisted spite of a Tory government, might bring angry music with a strong penchant for social comment back into vogue.

As the more observant amongst you will have noticed, this totally failed to happen, the major labels instead focusing on serving up an appalling mixture of fairly meaningless ‘Nu Folk’ and ‘Indie’, as well as the usual bland pop for school children. The rest of popular culture followed a similar path, as if there had been a secret communal decision to ignore the gradual disintegration of our country by any means necessary.

So with this is mind it wasn’t really that surprising when, sometime late last year, Sleaford Mods started making a lot of people sit up and take notice.  Their music is a brutal mix of minimal beats and angry, half rapped, half shouted vocals that struck a chord with a lot of people; and for those of us in the Hare & Hounds crowd who haven’t seen them before, there’s a lot of anticipation riding on tonight.

Opener ‘Jolly Fucker’ kicks into gear and it immediately becomes apparent what an incredibly intense performer front man Jason Williamson is. Any fears that the live show might not match the harsh impact of their recordings are quashed within seconds as Williamson shouts into the microphone, every word a punch to the throat.

It can create a strange effect in the audience member, a mixture of intimidation and fascination. I’m jammed up against the tiny knee high stage, roughly five foot away from the man, and I catch myself staring at him in a manner which I would never allow myself to normally. Hell, I don’t usually stare that intensely when I’m watching any kind of performance.

From where I am at the front I can also get a good gauge of the audience’s reaction by turning my head, which is an interesting exercise. Some of them look a little bit scared, others mouth along to every word, and a few are beaming from ear to ear with the kind of dumb glee usually reserved for small children on Christmas day. However all eyes are focused on the stage.

Williamson has a small repertoire of on stage gestures whilst singing, which include feigning masturbation and compulsively touching his head. In the instrumental breaks he walks around the stage, back straight, slightest hint of a strut, radiating menace and tension, occasionally stopping to do blow an obnoxious raspberry at the audience. At one point I genuinely think he’s going to spit into the crowd.

At the back of stage is the other Sleaford Mod, Andrew Fearn. As the man in charge of the beats, most of his work is done behind closed doors. Tonight he mostly stands at the back of the stage, steadily working his way through three cans of Red Stripe, making sure the backing tracks keep coming – occasionally pulling on an e cigarette and staring into the audience with a slight grin on his face.

Fearn is dressed in the decidedly un-modish outfit of grey tracksuit bottoms and a Rambo t-shirt. The use of the word ‘mod’ in the band’s name does not relate to slavish devotion to a finickety subculture, but is indicative of the thier class consciousness. The concept here is ‘mod’ as a way of working class people bettering themselves without assimilation or compromise – I’m reminded of the definition of mod being ‘clean living in difficult circumstances’.

Sleaford Mods’ website describes their music as ‘punk-hop for the working class and under’. There’s no way this kind of anger and disgust would be considered socially acceptable in middle class circles, unless when being described to a psychologist whilst lying on a  leather couch – as a person from the middle classes who regularly experiences feelings of anger and disgust, this makes their music particularly appealing to me.

And then there are the lyrics. A colourful selection of rants aimed at the many horrors of modern life in modern day England, they’ve been discussed elsewhere in great detail. Completely lacking in pretention or politeness, Williamson has what appears to be a limitless store of great one liners such as “Brian Eno – what the fuck does he know?” The lyrics skirt around the beat in the verses (though never ignoring it entirely) often switching to an easily chanted phrase on the chorus, giving us all an opportunity to shout along. A good example of this is the tune ‘McFlurry’, taken from last years’ album Austerity Dogs (chorus – “MCFLURRY!!”).

There’s a varied selection of targets here, from numbskull bully boys on ‘Urine Mate’, dick head managers on ‘Fizzy’, vapid, trendy music on ‘Showboat’ and the aforementioned pseudo food stuffs. It seems they particularly hit a chord with the material on the never ending down pour of mundanity that is most modern work places, a subject returned to on the closing ‘Wage Don’t Fit’. When Williamson announces it as the last song of the night, there’s a huge collective pantomime groan from the audience, but the man shakes his head. “Nah mate, got work in the morning” – it’s about the only between song banter we get all night.

You’ve probably already got a good idea of whether or not you’ll like Sleaford Mods from what I’ve written, and they’re a band who articulate their ideas so clearly your assumptions are probably right. However, they’re also band which, like it or not, I believe we need right now.

A little bit of nihilism and rage can be a healthy thing sometimes, evidenced by the throng of well wishers that hang around the stage to shake Fearn’s hand after Williamson disappears into the backstage area.

Break out the tippex and pass me my old leather jacket, the angry fuckers have a band to believe in once again.

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For more on Sleaford Mods, visit http://sleafordmods.com

For further listings from the Hare & Hounds (Kings Heath), visit http://hareandhoundskingsheath.co.uk