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July 11, 2016February 27, 2018

BREVIEW: The Hungry Ghosts @ The Sunflower Lounge 06.07.16

Words by Ed King / Pics by Rob Hadley (Indie Images)

I have a problem with ‘thank you’.

When I write something – a review, a feature or an opinion piece, it’s autonomous. To thank me for it implies I did something supportive, or helpful, or (god forbid) kind. I didn’t. I don’t. Writing is what I do. I often wish is wasn’t. And should you find yourself the subject of my (often acerbic) pen you’ve done something to deserve it; however the end critique turns out, you’ve earned your words.

On Monday I reviewed The Hungry Ghosts’ debut EP, Blood Red Songs. Surmised in ten words or less: Ferocious. Superb. Dark. Ball grabbing. One track too short. I received a number of ‘thanks you’s.

But I like the band; they swagger, they strut, they could cut you with razors, and their Redditch born black magic southern swamp blues is perfectly dangerous.

The Hungry Ghosts are (and I’m not the only one to say this) “a fu*king rock band”, and if Blood Red Songs is anything to go by they’ll continue to be until we all choke on stories of “when I first saw them…” Its only flaw was the track listing – the four song debut leaving you with a psychedelic lullaby instead of a kick to the groin. Strike, dear mistress.

Now it’s Wednesday and I’m at The Sunflower Lounge, to see said Ghosts launch said EP in front of a strong home grown crowd. The room is full, the stairs are full, there are several other bands in the audience, and I’ve already upset someone by helping her not to knock over my cider.

It’s cramped and furtive; the two support slots dutifully filled by Apathy and The Terror Watts – taking us from the Metallicaesque shoegaze of the former, to the pop fueled DIY of the later. And if you see either band on a bill it would be worth looking further.

The Sunflower Lounge is always dark, but tonight extra midnight red bathes the small stage as The Hungry Ghosts take root. Scrubbed, oiled and polished, with new drummer Mike Conroy in tow, the four piece start with the cheeky bass riff of ‘Beetle Boots’ – dancing through the room like Scooby Doo with a switchblade.

Joe Joseph leans in and looks up over his mic stand, all dark curls and menace; rumbling vocals of dangerous tales I can’t quite distinguish. A low drawl jumps to a frayed scream, whilst Jodie Lawrence and Billy Ollis flank him with self assured pouts and head thrusts. Flashes of teeth, red and silver jump off stage; it’s an entrance Jack Nicholson would be proud of.

Straight into ‘Father Snake Moan’, with the metaphor chorus I have yet to fully unpick, Joe Joseph commands us all forward – filling the invisible void so many small venues create. Rolling drums and appropriate feedback spill into the now tighter crowd, before Joseph tails it into the audience for what will not be the only time tonight.

The molasses of ‘Love Song’ follows, with the B-Side of The Hungry Ghost’s debut single bringing Lawrence and Joseph’s vocals together like a stolen kiss – before the front man is back off stage and into the crowd.

I’ve seen this in their sets before, a dance around the candid and intimate, yet still somewhere on the cusp of violence. You believe it too; a raw and rehearsed performance celebrating the intimacy of these people on stage. You can practice this stuff but you can’t make it up, and it’s precisely these points that warrant “a fu*king rock band.”

The punchy dark march of ‘Hares on the Mountain’ signs its A side name across the room, almost bitch slapping the front row, as Joe Joseph takes his place back on stage and cranes his eyes back over the crowd. Who in turn start to bubble. I scrawl the word ‘ferocious’ into my notebook (for neither the first nor last time with this band) before ‘The Hungry Ghost Blues’ washes through the room leaving little imprint. ‘I lose something. I say something to the person next to me. It ends’ is written on the line below.

There’s a small break, like just before the second time you jump into water, and the shoulders of the room seem to drop slightly as the band tunes in between tracks. In silence. The stage lights seem momentarily brighter whilst the audience chats away to itself; ‘INTERMISSION’ could be written in light bulb letters across a long velvet curtain somewhere. Tonight’s opening triptych has been a powerful beginning, even domineering at points, but as a small divide perches on the edge of the stage, its feet not quite yet touching the floor, I write ‘…say anything’.

And they do, musically, as ‘Super King King’ struts its predatory blues off stage next – prompting a period of deep breaths, steel-eyed stares and mic stand stroking that could land you in court. It’s a ferocious track (…told you) a working museum of the band’s influences and admirations, and one that’s fast becoming my favourite in a Hungry Ghosts’ set. On the EP it sounds superb; back to your seats people.

We slide full swing into the Velvets-esque riffs of ‘Death Rattle Blues’, another track from the Blood Red Songs EP, as the room builds in an orchestrated crescendo. The crowd dances; I drum my fingers against the railings, a few steps down from where I stood the first time, and contemplate throwing things from the stairs. Me, a glass, the man to my right. Something. Anything. Again, “a fu*king rock band”.

By this point Billy Ollis and Joe Joseph are huddled together in a twist of guitars, as the front man’s vocals jump from low drawl to scream. I struggle more and more with the frayed lyrics; it’s an honest display, but I want to hear these words and not just witness their delivery.

And the final track of the main set brings this dichotomy to the forefront, as Joe Joseph lays down his guitar to focus on prose for ‘The Catcher’ – with its semi spoken introduction, leading to almost fetal position screaming from the floor of the stage.

Then somewhere, somehow, Joseph is lifted up by the crowd; fulfilling the main set held aloft by his audience, playing his guitar horizontally as he is passed from one end of the room to the other. This wasn’t rehearsed yet manages to occur with almost theatrical precision; one of those moments.

The demanded encore is ‘The Hungry Ghosts Say Hello’ – a seemingly scone & tea titled track, that is, in reality, a mosh pit and explosion of strobe light. An awesome end, leaving a palpable and lingering taste that would have done well on the EP. Perhaps not this track, but this ending.

Joe Joseph, with no windows to jump or throw something out of – trapped in the limited capacity of the subterranean Sunflower, walks through the Red Sea crowd and out the back door. And for the last time tonight… “a fu*king rock band”.

We file slowly, languidly upstairs, with most of the room deciding it would be safer to just stay for a drink. No one’s going home straight away. The Hungry Ghosts, their “job done”, are dutifully packing their gear into the van and cracking on with the business of post performance. Joe Joseph seems, as always, genuine and appreciative that anyone’s responding at all.

I extend a garrulous invitation to help – not knowing anything about kit or stage that would be in anyway useful, but it’s all I can really think of to say. “…you’ll have to wait until I publish it. But, you know… blimey. Job done I think Joe” and I extend a pat between the shoulder blades as both deflection and full stop.

The Hungry Ghosts must know it’s been a good gig tonight, I think; there will be personal assessments, sure, and mistakes only a creator will see. But the crowd response was undeniable. A happy elephant stomps through this room.

I backtrack, my drunk and guarded rhetoric still determined not to give away parts of my review (perhaps that one cider should have been sacrificed to the floor) and think quick for a suitably safe response.

“I mean, that was, well… Thank you for tonight.”

The Hungry Ghosts’ debut Blood Red Songs EP is out now – available to by online & from Setting Son Records. For more on The Hungry Ghosts, www.thehungryghosts.co.uk

For more from The Sunflower Lounge, visit www.thesunflowerlounge.com

July 5, 2016February 22, 2017

BREVIEW: BE Festival @ REP 21-25.06

Words by Heather Kincaid / Pics courtesy of BE Festival

As events got underway on Friday 24 June at this year’s Birmingham European Festival, the atmosphere in the buzzing Festival Hub was noticeably different from the three preceding days. Where a mood of apprehensive optimism had prevailed before, now anxious faces engaged in animated discussions, asking urgent questions about the future.

Few among the artists, attendees, organisers and others gathered there from across the continent will not be directly affected by Britain’s decision to leave the EU. Nevertheless, in keeping with the spirit of collaboration, co-operation and creativity in which BE Festival was conceived, directors Isla Aguilar and Miguel Oyarzun delivered a rousing speech, urging us to meet the news by coming together to show the world that a better Europe was possible.

Programmed well in advance, none of the shows at BE Festival 2016 were directly themed around the EU referendum, yet its presence could be felt in almost every aspect of the event – like a capricious ghost looming over the festivities, showing us Europe’s past, present and possible futures in a bid for us to understand the impact of Thursday’s decision.

Situation with an Outstretched Arm – Oliver Zahn’s ‘performative essay’ on the history of what has come to be known as the ‘Hitler salute’, explores the complex and inextricable connection between art and politics. In deconstructing the gesture in paintings and in practice, it demonstrates how aesthetics and symbolism play a vital part in the establishment of ideologies and in how we interact with them. At a time when both art and criticism are under financial threat, it feels like a bold statement asserting their importance in teaching us to identify and analyse power mechanisms.

Meanwhile, Xavier Bobés’ Things Easily Forgotten tells a story set against the backdrop of Franco’s Spanish regime, which lasted until 1975. With emboldened far-right extremists making news across the continent again, angered by mass migration and an increasingly internationalist outlook, it’s a potent reminder of how recently such groups have held real power. And how easily it could happen again if we fail to work together to prevent it.

In very different ways, Teatro Sotterraneo’s Reload and Aldes’ In Girum Imus Nocte both hold a mirror up to Western society today. Satirising the constant distractions of a labyrinthine Internet, the hilarious Reload looks at our restlessness, reduced concentration spans and decreased capacity to delay gratification when fed a constant stream of information and entertainment. With the Internet serving as the major battleground upon which the EU referendum campaigns were fought, Reload accidentally seems to highlight some of the problems with the debate: is it possible to really have a serious conversation or follow ideas through properly when fighting against a barrage of memes and soundbites?

Elsewhere, CollettivO CineticO’s Hamlet stands like a warning, showing us a kind of election by TV-style talent show with local contestants competing to be crowned as Shakespeare’s Danish Prince.

Presenting a far bleaker view of our world, In Girum Imus Nocte speaks to the frustrations of modern living that have caused many people to rail against what can feel like oppressive limitations in our society. Dancers move aimlessly, jerking and twitching like clockwork automatons in a world of grey and black, against a repetitive, ticking soundtrack. Occasionally, their drab routines are punctuated by outbreaks of mob fury, hedonistic celebration and bouts of deep, exhausted sleep. In such a world, change in whatever form it’s offered will inevitably be seized upon by some.

Perhaps the single hottest (and most inflammatory) topic in Britain’s EU debate has been the issue of immigration, particularly in relation to the ongoing Syrian crisis. An Wei Lu Li’s pointedly titled Democracy draws attention to the plight of refugees through a series of large-scale paintings located around the city.

The centrepiece of this city-wide ‘exhibition’ is Leviathan – a giant picture of a curled body on the ground in Centenary Square, only really visible in its entirety from the privileged vantage point of the Library of Birmingham terraces. Down on the ground, meanwhile, passers-by unwittingly trample across the body, gradually causing it to fade away. In a democracy, the work suggests, we’re all responsible on some level for the policies our leaders enact, even if we choose to ignore them.

Picking up on the same theme, W. H. Auden’s ‘Refugee Blues’ made an appearance in Los Bárbaros’ Things We’d Love to See on Stage. Though essentially a random collection of unrelated things, it also included “a politician doing politics” – which turned out to be a maneki-neko (beckoning cat figurine). “He’s not under Europe, but he’s probably pro-China, so we don’t know how that will work out,” joked one performer. The show took on a particularly poignant dimension when an opportunity for the audience to choose something that they’d like to see on stage themselves prompted a callback to an earlier item on the list. Previously, “maps” of Europe, Britain, England and Birmingham had been created out of piles of compost. After a member of the audience suggested “unity”, cheers erupted when another came forward to combine the maps into one pile.

No single performance could have been better suited to the occasion, however, than Power to the People, a project themed around democracy, developed by a handful of last year’s artists through the BE Mix initiative – a brief, scratch-style residency that takes place after the festival each year. In the lead up to the show on Friday, performers on either side of a debate had been canvassing for votes for their respective ideas – one a piece directed by a single person, the other collaboratively devised by a team of five.

As with the referendum, the results of the vote on the day itself were pretty close, but ultimately the Five Directors Project won it. Next came questions designed to identify viewers’ assumptions. Is democracy really the best form of government? Does theatre at BE Festival confirm its audience’s biases? Congratulations to us, we collectively decided that the only power system that most of us have ever known was superior to any other. But since we also decided that the art we see should challenge us, the company went on to spend half an hour trying to prove us wrong…

If there’s one thing that BE Festival makes clear, it’s the case for even the most lighthearted of creative endeavours as something with the power to prompt reflection on the important issues in our lives.

With no sign of an end to austerity yet in sight, and the likelihood that Brexit will make it harder for British artists to collaborate with their continental neighbours, one can only hope that it continues to be able to serve this function.

For more on BE Festival, visit www.befestival.org

May 9, 2016

SWINGAMAJIG REVIEW 2016: The Rin Tins

So about a week ago we were at this party in Digbeth…

Swingamajig 2016 – the best dressed fest (in the West) has come & gone, and what a stonking 16 hours of debauchery that one was. The only dark cloud left hovering is the 12 months until we get to do it all over again.

Big thanks to all the artists, organisers & dapper/flappers who came to see us at the Swingamajig Review 2016 tent & Birmingham Review Chai Stall – mother is chuffed to buggery you liked the biscuits.

But don’t lose heart dear hearts – you can relive (or remember) this year’s festival with the Swingamajig Review 2016 – a 24 page souvenir from Birmingham Review, out in June.

Interviews, reviews, features, picture galleries & some dark discretion immortalised in print; it’s all in there. For a nominal fee, of course.

Pre orders / £5 + postage & packing – available through the Birmingham Review website & social media.

Meanwhile, back at the speakeasy… We’ll be feeding you teasers via the Swingamajig Review 2016 event page & on the Birmingham Review website. And as a starter for ten, a Q&D (quick & dirty) vox pop with the band who are one of the reasons we gave an Electro Swing in the first place – watch out for the full interview in the Swingamajig Review 2016.

Ladies & Gents, Mesdames et Messieurs, we give you the ‘definable Bristolian party band’. Drum roll please…

Q&D: The Rin Tins @ Swingamajig 2016

(watch out for the full interview – featured in the Swingamajig Review 2016)

(The Rin Tins, l-r: Ella Polczyk, Benjamin Leach, Jim Davies, Ryan Walker, Tara Baggott, Ross Labiak)

Lead pic by Ella Carman / Gig pics by Michelle Martin

How was your set?
JD: Epic; the crowd was awesome. They were really on board with everything we played, really responsive and they danced like crazy.
RW: Every Swingamajig gig we’ve ever done has been absolutely fantastic – the Shambala tent in 2014, Hot Club de Swing was amazing, last year’s festival was amazing as well. This year has just been fantastic again.

How would you describe your music, and the sets that you do? Are you electro swing?
EP: We’re more gypsy jazz, with a swing feel to it as well. Some of the stuff we do could be compare to electro swing but I wouldn’t say that we were.
JD: We’re like gypsy swing but ramped up and faster, with more energy.

Were you friends before you became The Rin Tins?
EP: We’re still not…
TB: …we don’t like each other.
JD: We’ve been together, as a band, for five years so we’re very close. We’re like a family.
RW: I moved to Bristol from Devon and met Jim…
JD: …we didn’t know anyone in Bristol, so we met and formed a little band. Then I met Ben at a party and he moved over from Swansea.

How did you meet?
TB: Some of us knew each other through work.
JD: …most of us were strangers.
RL: I came to a gig and really loved the band so I joined…
JD: We found him roaming in the woods, so we combed him, deflead him and brought him into civilization.
RW: It was a struggle.
RL: …I’m finally house broken.

What made you play the style of music you do, as The Rin Tins?
RW: Initially it was Gogol Bordello. I was in a group about seven years ago and the guitarist started to get into Django Reinhartd and we started playing Django Reinhartd songs together. Then I heard Gogol Bordello and realised you could do the same thing but ramp it up and make play it a lot faster, and people would dance. At the time I was living in Devon and there just weren’t any drummers around – but with this music you could still add that percussive playing and get people dancing. But when you add a drummer it just goes crazy.

Swingamajig is a great and diverse festival – with everything from electro swing to drum and bass featured somewhere. But do you ever find the electro swing scene… cliquey?
JD: I think what we do is so energetic that anyone can dance to it, and it works across the board; the songs are catchy, the music is fast and fun. As far ‘scenes’ go we’re ready to play anywhere and everyone will dance.
EP: I think we’re quite luck because where we’re from everyone is quite friendly and open. But we also did a gig recently in Glastonbury and it was more of a sit down gig with people clapping in solos and that kind of thing, but even they enjoyed it.
RW: I’d agree with that. It does feel strange when we’re at those sit down gigs and we’re used people dancing like crazy– but they sit there quite happily listening and really enjoying the music.
RL: And they were sober too.

So being ‘the definable Bristolian party band’… is that making you money?
RW: We are earning money but it all goes back straight into the band – playing for EPs, travel, accommodation. We bought a van so we could get around and gigging paid for that.

I’m the One EP came out last year, and on your Bandcamp page you’re asking for a donation?
JD: The donation is optional.
RW: If you want it you can just download it, but you can also make a donation as you see fit.
JD: But do bear in mind how thin Ryan is.

Any plans for the summer?
RW: We’re playing Glastonbury, and we’re releasing and EP just before that gig. We’re recording four tracks down in London in the next month or so. We haven’t decided on a title yet…
JD: We’re in a heavy argument about it.
RW: I wouldn’t describe it as heavy… it’s more a convoluted discussion.
JD: A fight to the death.

For more on The Rin Tins, visit www.therintins.com
To download a copy of I’m the One EP (and to help Ryan eat) visit www.therintins.bandcamp.com

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For more on the Swingamajig Festival, visit http://swingamajig.co.uk/

May 4, 2016May 4, 2016

INTERVIEW: Benjamin Francis Leftwich

*Benjamin Francis Leftwich plays at The Rainbow Courtyard on Thursday 5^th May – as presented by Birmingham Promoters & Kilimanjaro Live. For direct info & tickets, click here.

Words by Ed King

I over play things. It’s a habit. And for one glorious summer Benjamin Francis Leftwich’s debut album – Last Smoke Before the Snowstorm, was the repetitive soundtrack to my earphone clad existence.

Alongside Like I Used To by Lucy Rose, and If You Leave by Daughter, these three debuts owned me for a solid six months – complicit and outright. And now with Leftwich’s follow up album poised to attack, the ‘eagerly awaited’ After the Rain set for release on 19^th August, I prepare for predictability once again.

“I really appreciate that,” responds Benjamin Francis Leftwich, as I try to retain any sense of detached cool, “those two artists (Lucy Rose, Daughter) are close friends of mine and I know they’d be incredibly humbled to hear that as well. I know what you mean though; so many records of that genre were coming out then and everyone was on the same gig circuit and festivals – it was a really beautiful time and one that I’ll always cherish.”

Ah the halcyon days… But such an immediate impact can be both a blessing and a curse, with the pressures to jump even higher, especially on ‘that difficult second album’, often the antithesis to a healthy creative development. And more often than not, with the aforementioned being a triptych example, the make or break in this scenario can come down to the label.

“They’re amazing; I consider them family,” explains Leftwich – talking about Dirty Hit, his label for nearly a decade. “It’s a great home, they’ve allowed me to make the record that I wanted and needed to make. They’re just very music focused; I was almost going to say ‘tolerant’, but the people who work there have an amazing ear and ultimately they’re just music lovers who know more about how to make things work (industry) than I do.”

You do get a sense of camaraderie from the Dirty Hit roster, even from the outside looking in – like it’s more a friendly faced 4AD than a suited and booted Sony. “I’m not just saying that because we’re talking,” confirms Leftwich, “but the level of dedication goes so much further than just the music and song writing than I think people realise – it’s everything. When you’re working with an independent label like that, and you go into an office and there are five people running the whole thing… out of necessity it has to be inclusive, and song focused. And of course ambitious.”

Good to know. When my kazoo career is ready for takeoff I know where to send my demo. But it’s not all a garrulous love in at Casa de la Leftwich, as the five year hiatus between albums was the result of the illness and subsequent death of Benjamin’s father – a man the After the Rain press release describes as both ‘a parent and his number one source of inspiration’.

“…feel free to ask me what you want to ask me,” says Leftwich, as I stumble around the foundations of his latest endeavour. “There’s no question of me being offended. By ‘aspects’ do you mean things as well as the death of dad?” I do. It’s a poor choice of words, but how driven by that particular sadness was the writing process for After the Rain?

“It was hugely impactful, massively so. I’ve run through the timeline of it so much; I was with dad back in York, living in the house, and I loved that I could be there. Then I went on tour to America, which in hindsight I regret, but you know, that’s life. Then I came back and was writing in my room; me and my sister were there, sharing time.” Again the press release mentions this, how After the Rain’s opening track was ‘written in the living room opposite his father’s old house.

“We had producers coming up and setting up in the living room recording music, we had a full mixing desk in the living room at one point.” I feel like I’ve left my shoes on where I shouldn’t. But was it all about your dad?

“When something like that happens it’s more than just about that initial thing,” continues Leftwich, “it affects everything else around it. So that album (After the Rain) is massively inspired by it, and everything that followed. Not every song is about that – they cover a massive geographical and emotional range, but of course it’s a theme that runs though, and probably, subconsciously, maybe, ties them all together.”

Luckily for the sake of this conversation (and the apparent label goodwill) the first teaser from Benjamin Francis Leftwich’s new album is a superb return to form – the delicate but visceral ‘Tilikum’, which has been out in the public domain since early this year.

“The name of the song came from the name of the whale in the film Blackfish,” explains Leftwich, “and it’s a name that I was once planning on calling my baby… but that didn’t happen.” I remember ‘Tilikum’s opening six lines and choose not to ask. “And I wrote a song kind of explaining my thoughts about that and for the future. The chorus is just full of love.” The verses aren’t bad either; with a crafted sensitivity and robust pen, ‘Tilikum’ is arguably a step up from its predecessors. And that’s hard for me to say.

But there’s something else in Benjamin Francis Leftwich’s first release in half a decade, something evolved. Maybe it’s the time spent in between albums, maybe it’s the tragedy and catalyst, maybe it’s the Charlie Andrew production, or the “wider range of music than I listened to five years ago” and “sounds and textures from different records” that Leftwich references in his follow up. I honestly couldn’t say. And part of me doesn’t want to.

But with a 27 date tour before the album’s release – traversing Europe, America and Canada, and a date at our own Moseley Folk Festival, I’ll probably have enough time to find a suitably verbose suggestion.

Now someone get me Elena Tonra on the phone…

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Benjamin Francis Leftwich plays at The Rainbow Courtyard on Thursday 5^th May – as presented by Birmingham Promoters & Kilimajaro Live. For direct info & tickets, click visit http://therainbowvenues.co.uk/events/benjamin-francis-leftwich/

For more on Benjamin Francis Leftwich, visit http://www.benjaminfrancisleftwich.com/

For more from The Rainbow Venues, visit http://therainbowvenues.co.uk/

April 30, 2016

BREVIEW: Broken Witt Rebels @ The Sunflower Lounge 15.04.16

Words by Olly MacNamee / Pics by Eric Duvet

Currently on a whistle-stop tour of this scepter’d isle of ours, Birmingham’s Broken Witt Rebels are back on home turf tonight. And with a sell-out crowd of family, friends and new fans awaiting, they need to bring their ‘A’ game.

Playing a taught, thirty minute set and offering up tracks from their two EP’s (the recently released Georgia Pine and previous offering, Howlin’) alongside new songs, this quartet from Castle Vale did not disappoint.

First and foremost, I was amazed at the rich, smoky, sensual, “Down South” strains of frontman, Danny Core. Core offers a voice that sounds as though it’s done some living; a wise old singer-songwriter reincarnated into a young man from Brum. Maybe the stork got his Birmingham cities mixed up and somewhere in the Deep South of America there’s a guy with the Brummie brogue Core was supposed to have.

Opening up their set with the punchy, sexy ‘Low’, Core and company – childhood friend and bassist Luke Davis, guitarist James Tranter and drummer James Dudley – were clearly enjoying themselves. It was infectious, with many of the crowd singing along, bringing a sense of taciturn camaraderie between the rockers and the room.

Broken Witt Rebels‘ sound is a blues-infused, country-twanged brand of rock and roll, reminiscent of early Kings of Leon, before they lost their beards and their soulfulness. Whizzing through a set of ciggie-soaked vocals and Mississippi moonshine-marinated melodies, Broken Witt Rebels played tracks including ‘Getaway Man’, ‘Guns’ and the set’s closer ‘Shake Me Down’.

I was left with the feeling that this is a band on the up. And I suspect Broken Witt Rebels may not be returning to such small venues in the future, given how developed and ready for rock success they already are, and at such a tender age.

For more on Broken Witt Rebels, visit http://www.brokenwittrebels.com/

For more from The Sunflower Lounge, visit http://thesunflowerlounge.com/