Author: birminghamreview

Indie three piece, Low, are the forerunners of post punk down tempo rock; or ‘slowcore’ for short.

Formed in Duluth, Minnesota in 1993, founding member’s Alan Sparhawk and John Nicholls joked about playing toned down rock to the Grunge hungry crowds. The joke became a reality, and after recruiting Sparhawk’s wife – Mimi Parker, to brush drums and sing harmonies, the reality became an album. Low’s debut release, ‘I Could Live In Hope’, came out on Virgin imprint – Vernon Yard, in 1994.

Developing a low end sound, using prominent bass lines and tempered percussion, Low manipulate simple melodies with wall of sound layered rock and electronica. UK artists including The Reindeer Selection, David Kitt and even The XX (make of that what you will) have all been cited to the genre.

The angriest Mormons in history, Low have also had their fair share of spats. With a Spinal Tap approach to their back line (or bass players at least), and hop scotching labels; until both joining Sub Pop and forming their own – Chairkickers’ Union, Low have seemingly not sailed plainly.

But sail they have, far and wide. Low’s significant portfolio screams louder than their front man at the End of the Road festival (on stage guitar strop in ’08 – http://youtu.be/5dZ-bY62uV0, at the end of an otherwise well lauded set), and the fact that most ex-members are still involved in sideline projects helps redress the chemical imbalance.

Plus, with the backing of a worked for and earned fanbase – including most notably Robert Plant, Low have continued continuing for nearly two decades, relentlessly touring stage shows, where their signature production reputedly evolves into a full, engaging sound on stage.

They’ve also got new album to shout about, ‘C’mon’, and a tour with Death Cab For Cutie starting a week after their European headliners. So they must be doing something, and something must be right. Right?

Low play The Glee Club (B’ham) on April 2^nd, Oluseyi Kolade will be there for the Birmingham Review.

For more info on this, and other gigs at The Glee Club, visit http://www.glee.co.uk/birmingham

For more info on Low visit http://chairkickers.com

Words & pics by Ed King

I like The Glee Club. I like the programming, I like the crowds. I like the way the chairs get laid out in neat semi circles. But what I don’t like is the queuing; outside, on a Sunday, in February, in the cold.

At least I’m not alone, tonight is Fink’s last in a 5 date UK tour and a full venue has turned out to see him. Just wish I was in front of them all.

“We’re going to be playing Perfect Darkness, but some old ones too”, says the flat cap, obscured by a rib cage of angle poise lamps. Fink (aka Fin Greenall) was on stage, apparently before the lighting technician, as were Guy Whittaker and Tim Thornton – the back line he’s been playing and recording with since 2006.

“But we’re going to start with an old one,” a slow tempo rim tap and low vocals creep across the stage, “Biscuits for Breakfast”. The crowd whoops at the title track from Fink’s first acoustic album.

A medley into ‘Perfect Darkness’, the title track from Fink’s latest acoustic album, and the stage feels professionally comfortable.

A quick dedication to the support act, Charlene Soraia, and the tough electric strings of ‘Fear is Like Fire’ build up to its mini Wall of Sound crescendo. Outside applause, this was the loudest 5 minutes of the night.

The 20+ angle poise lamps – a simply effective backdrop, kick into a strobe, and then back to black. A brief breath, then a slow guitar pluck takes us into ‘Yesterday Was Hard On All Of Us’ – a low, soulful lament from ‘Perfect Darkness’, that sounds like it’s been sung by John Legend’s brother from another mother.

A brief “trip to the old skool” welcomes in ‘Blueberry Pancakes’ (from 2007 album ‘Distance and Time’) reminding us of Fink’s ambient techno roots; build up, crescendo, break… build up, break – before the laid back rim tap and strings of ‘Trouble’s What Your In’ bring us into the present.

An under the counter admission about “the city we’ve seen the most sunrises in” introduces ‘Berlin Sunrise’ – a quietly frenetic homage to the German capital, before the comparatively feisty ‘Warm Shadow’ subsides into the loudly layered ‘Honesty’, one of the most impressive performances of the night. Then the appropriated blues of ‘Wheels’ closes four consecutive new tracks to the back catalogue hungry audience.

But with a veteran’s balance, Fink ends on two of his most recognised releases; ‘This is the Thing’ and ‘Sort of Revolution’, before a standing ovation encore of ‘Pretty Little Thing’, a track he “can’t leave without playing”.

Fink is excellent. Each album released; since his move into acoustic six years ago, has been elegantly undercooked. But ‘Perfect Darkness’, Fink’s 2011 studio album, emitted a soft, stench of over production; one I sometimes found too thick to let me in.

But onstage Fink shines (literally when all of the angle poise lamps are on). The confident synergy between Greenall, Whittaker and Thornton produces something simple, beautiful and believable, and songs I’d shied away from before held more intrigue heard live.

The Glee Club is the right kind of venue, and the full Sunday house (not easy in Birmingham) showed a lot of love. And whilst I still feel Greenall’s best work is yet to come (and dear God when it does…), I’m committed to as many winter queues as it takes. And I’ll even complain quietly. Or perhaps just into my scarf.

For more info on Fink visit http://www.finkworld.co.uk/

For more info on The Glee Club, including comedy and music listings for all their UK venues, visit http://www.glee.co.uk/

Words & pics by Ed King

Clasping a cold Guinness; shaking and angry from the absence of gloves, I turned to watch The Twilight Sad’s support – a suitably ‘wall of sound’ four piece called Let’s Wrestle.

‘You know you’re a prima donna when the dry ice hurts your throat’, quips the bass player (a deadpan mix between David Walliams and my friend’s brother Mike) before launching into another well meaning guitar thrash.

It’s a Sunday. Upstairs at the Hare & Hounds is freezing, and one hour ago I was warm, cozy and digesting a pie. Whilst I bless the joys of music journalism, The Twilight Sad’s gruff and rotund roadies install massive monitors where simply big had just been. I stamp my feet and look up. Tonight’s going to be loud.

Coming on stage under the searing guitar intro of ‘Kill It in the Morning’, The Twilight Sad didn’t pause before melting into their second track of the night – an unrecognisable six string barrage the set list called ‘Elfant’.

As the crowd edged towards the front half of the room, allowing strobe lights and the echo of tinnitus to fill the rest, a brief but endearing ‘hello, thanks for coming out’ escaped from front man James Graham, before closing his eyes on tiptoes to sing ‘That Summer, At Home I had Become The Invisible Boy’, The Twilight Sad’s first ever single.

Sporadic key melodies brought some lighter notes, literally, whilst the wall of sound continued to encase us. Graham continued to bounce, twirl and lose himself in his earphone monitors, whilst guitarist Andy McFarlane marched the rest of the stage through a proficient 12 track set; incorporating songs from all three studio albums.

A small lull between ‘Dead City’ and ‘Alphabet’, the first two tracks from their latest album – ‘No One Can Ever Know’, played in curious reverse order, allowed Graham’s vocals to become briefly more audible. Before the rock fromage descended in thick layers, bringing us mercilessly into ‘I Became a Prostitute’ – a melancholic stormer from their second album that sounded even better on stage.

Following with ‘Sick’, the latest single, The Twilight Sad then focused on new material, before closing with two tracks from previous albums; ‘And She Would Darken the Memory’ and ‘At the Burnside’. At points it was hard to tell where one ended and another began, a concurrent theme, and although an appreciated dénouement down the archives, it did take Graham three attempts to remember the lyrics to their final track.

The Twilight Sad’s sound is too big for a 200 capacity venue, but powerful to watch. Graham’s (cliché alert) raw energy and total belief floods off stage, supported by unobtrusive and well orchestrated musicians.

Carefully constructed, each track shows either personal pain or euphoria – a distinction perhaps only Graham and McFarlane can really know, and what I once wrote off as arrogance I now see as introverted sincerity.

Very loud. Very proud. Very polished. The Twilight Sad are what they are, and they are better heard live. Although that being said I’ve had them on Spotify since Sunday.

The Twilight Sad’s third album, ‘No One Can Ever Know’ is out now on Fat Cat Records. For more information visit  http://www.thetwilightsad.com/

For more info and gigs from Birmingham Promoters visit http://www.birminghampromoters.com/