Category: MUSIC (2022)

Writer and photographer Ed King

I wouldn’t necessarily describe myself as a ‘Kathryn Williams superfan’, but I championed her Mercury Music nominated album Little Black Numbers before it made the shortlist. Her soft declarations, personal lyrics, and lullaby melodies; Williams was an artist I knew when others didn’t, I think smugly as I hum ‘Soul to Feet’ with a wry smile and Kathryn Williams at the Kitchen Garden Café 24.04raging ego.

But I only learnt about Introductions, the anthology album Williams released on Record Story Day, the day before her Kitchen Garden Cafe Gig. The anthology features handpicked tracks from her 12 studio albums. 12… I own three Kathryn Williams albums. And my musical moral high ground is now just an embarrassing memory.

But it does mean that I am in for a night of new material – even if the material itself isn’t new – and I weave and squeeze through the very full York Road venue to find a suitable seat at the back. I’m excited; I last saw Williams in October 2005 at The Glee Club, when she was touring Over Fly Over (the third of her albums I own) and tonight I have nine more albums to meet. Which I guess is the point.

I perch on my chair at the back (taking photos at the Kitchen Garden Café is about as subtle as a Trump rally) and watch as the Liverpudlian ‘songwriter’s songwriter’ tells the Birmingham crowd we are going to get two sets this evening. A surprise to most of us in the room, but for the audience certainly a welcome one.

‘Fade’ from Williams’ debut LP opens the show, with its almost bluesy swagger and trademark soft vocals – sitting perfectly amidst the Kitchen Garden Café low light and warm décor. Kathryn Williams has a voice angels would call angelic; she’s not going to belt out a Streisand showstopper, but it’s firm, confident, and never has the word mellifluous been more appropriate.

Next is ‘Flicker’ from her second studio album, there’s a pattern emerging, and the one that started the snowball of music industry accolades. Again, it’s pitch perfect, literally, delivered by an artist with self-deprecating humility and yet total control.

Later, she would regale us with memories of being backstage at a Libertines gig (at the time both managed by Alan McGee) and making her excuses to leave the carnage by saying: “…my legs are tired, I’ve been gardening all day. And I’ve forgotten to feed the cat.”

‘Mirrorball’ follows, and the couple to my right (who’s copy of Introductions is now sitting on stage acting as a set list) start to sway. I feel warmer than I did in the sun. And as ‘Spit on a Stranger’ (Williams’ cover of the premillennial Pavement track) sprinkles itself across the room, I am literally on my knees (taking photographs).

At this point the only thing wrong with the world is the noise coming from whatever kitchen appliance has churned into action about five metres behind me. And there’s a lot wrong with the world.

The evening’s second set deviates from the Introductions playlist and even opens the floor for requests – although my fingers crossed pitch for ‘Soul to Feet’ gets lost in a wish list more educated than my own.

Kathryn Williams is a prolific songwriter with a vast back catalogue, one that has been released either through her own imprint, CAW Records, or through the fiercely independent One Little Indian Records, and the veracity of her music shines through.

There is a warm familiarity as she stands almost entwined with the front row; Williams’ vocals are the audio embodiment of a hug from a close friend, and the “very polite” Birmingham audience are brought into her world with grace and kindness.

But her lyrics are not saccharine, far from it, offering an astute analysis of someone who is sensible enough to fear the world but strong enough to love it. And to hark back to my halcyon days of GO TEAM WILLIAMS, listen to ‘Jasmine Hoop’ and tell me you’ve not been there too.

The evening comes to an end with a loop pedal layered rendition of ‘Little Black Numbers’ and an invitation to visit the sprawling merch table, replete with more albums than I have time or money enough to embrace in one night.

Instead, I wait patiently as the woman in front of me asks Williams to outline a tattoo in the making on her arm, a curious request, before putting my hand in my pocket to buy a hardback copy of The Ormering Tide – Kathryn Williams’ debut novel that was released in March 2021.

It turns out she is now a published novelist too, another welcome surprise and challenge to my ego.

 

For more from Kathryn Williams visit www.kathrynwilliams.co.uk

For more from the Kitchen Garden Café visit www.kitchengardencafe.co.uk

Writer Jasmine Khan / Photographer Ewan Williamson

It’s a pretty late start time of 9pm for hard to place psych band Brain Food at the Hare and Hounds on Saturday night; but the late evening atmosphere definitely suits their tumultuous sound.

The stage lights come up in green and blue, and Brain Food’s synthy keys played by Connor Scott hits the crowd immediately, splicing through melodic guitars plucked by frontman Liam Mckeown and Liam Rhodes. William Scarrott’s bass is like a lazy river swimming around in the twisted rhythms. Connor Doyle’s drums are sharp, the tempo picking up while symbols crash around the main body of Brain Food’s sound.

There’s a narrative, a tale building behind Brain Food, one that flits between a dream and a nightmare, as if you’re grasping onto reality in the downward spiral of a bad trip.

Synths and pedals are now in full effect and we’re whirling with Brain Food through space, Liam Mckeown’s vocals as our only guide. His voice is full of personality, cooing and projecting at just the right moments, long hair flowing behind him as Liam poses enigmatically with a teal Fender Jazzmaster.

Brain Food’s track, ‘Piggy Piggy Piggy’ brags a swifter pace. What could have been described as melodic psych rock becomes heavier, somehow doomy and their sound develops with a strong garage psych element. The bass goes into overdrive and the swiftness and skill of Scarrott’s (excuse me) fingering, has my skank face dialled-up to the max.

Brain Food’s instruments helter-skelter, crescendo and then crash into a stunning sticky mess of sound.

I love it when the supports’ set could have easily been the headliners. I also love it when the vibe is maintained my excellent mid-set grooves, so thanks to T-Bird for that.

King Khan (Daddy), isn’t on stage when The Shrines begin displaying their technical musical prowess. The drums already have clear jazz elements with gentle skits running effortlessly over the main beat. There’s keys, two saxophonists, a trumpet, guitar, bass and countless tambourines scattered around the stage.

As the noise on stage becomes frenzied, brass chopping across the rumbling percussion, a booming voice emanates from the speakers – drum roll please. ‘Ladies and Gentleman, the man from the jungle of love. The one. The only. King Khan!’

Enter King Khan, a queer Bollywood icon, a maharaja dripping in patent gold sequins and crowned with an elaborate gold headdress. Daddy grabs the mic with authority and lets out a hearty crow, cutting through the crowd’s anticipation. We roar back our appreciation in response.

The set is choreographed excellently, oozing ironic cheesiness as the strings step from side to side in almost perfect time, pointing the arms of their guitars towards the audience and then away again on the beat. Daddy’s voice bellows into the audience and there’s a deep guttural note coming from the trumpet.

Khan scats whilst intently strumming his guitar, the sound forever building as synth sounds join just before the break down and the keys player lifts up his instrument and carries into the crowd. Not once, not twice, but three times across the course of the set.

F*ck me, who jumps into the crowd with keys.

There’s a full outfit change for Daddy, this time it is a skin-tight, grape purple, bodysuit trimmed with lavender fur, like a bird of paradise.

Khan caws again, the trumpet player picks up a flute and we’re transported to a psychedelic jungle. You can barely see the drum sticks or the bassist fingers as the sound gets heavier and heavier, and people start to bump into each other in that friendly but oh so competitive way.

The crowd mosh, but I abandon my notebook to join as the energy in the room peaks. Daddy (deliberately) scratches his crotch whilst staring into the audience – filthy.

It’s unsurprising that the encore, which was definitely planned but oh well, encompasses the third, final, and most outrageous outfit change of the evening. In black hotpants/chaps and a sheer negligee, King Khan brings the show to a triumphant close.

To take a look and what King Khan and the Shrines are doing go their website here: www.facebook.com/brainfoodofficial

For more from Brain Food, take a look at their social media via: www.facebook.com/brainfoodofficial

For more from the Hare and Hounds, including their gig schedule, go to www.thehareandhounds.co.uk

Writer Jasmine Khan / Photographer Erin Connelly

It’s been a while since I’ve been to Mama Roux’s for a gig. They’ve swapped the decadent décor for a cleaner aesthetic that gives the venue more breathing room, and the bouncer’s friendly on the way in which always starts the night off well.

It’s 420 so I’m thirsty, and I feel compelled to mention that it costs me £7.37 for a two pints of soft drink, a bit ridiculous considering it’s soda water and syrup out the tap.

My grump at drinks prices is soon forgotten as local stars Fitzroy Holt take the stage. They kick off the evening with ‘Medicine’, a moody, yearning, rock ballad that sends shivers to my toes.

The tune starts off strong as Thom Rhodes guitar rumbles against James Williams’ bass. Pounding drums played by DJ ride underneath the ever growing collage of sound. Then, the sound lulls before building incrementally.

Front man Connor Brookes, cries out: “That girls my medicine.” His tone is powerful, almost a roar, and practically every word that follows is underpinned by a soft growl.

‘Medicine’ feels gritty and gorgeous, just like Brum.

As the set continues Brookes’ emotive voice caresses the mic – the depth of his tone and his dynamic range persistently on display. Brook also plays lead guitar and as the band continues to groove, DJ’s skills on drums become even more apparent. It must also be said that Williams’ trousers are as funky as his rhythm.

I’m sad when Fitzroy’s set finishes, but I’ve heard Cardiff’s Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard put on quite the show.

Tom Rees’ immaculate stage presence is apparent immediately – there’s something a bit American Psycho about it – the erratic dancing draws you in but you’re cautious of being zapped by some kind of electric energy.

Crashing symbols and drawn out chords pierce the crowd with sharp precision and the bands frequent use of pedals and synths means Buzzard (Buzzard Buzzard) sound had a twang to it. Rees’ falsetto shrieks at points in a way that reminds me of Talking Heads, and then drowns back down, catapulting us and then bringing us back down to earth.

For a moment I’m extremely confused then I realise someone has been playing musical instruments (get it?) because the pianist is no longer a pianist, he’s playing the tambourine, and Tom Rees has picked up the keys.

Are they showing off? Absolutely. Does it make for a great performance? The crowd’s reaction is a resounding yes.

“People who do encores are sell outs,” says Tom Rees which receives one funny heckle and then several more unfunny heckles.

As Buzzard’s set comes to a close, Tom Rees’ voice waivers momentarily. But we forgive him almost instantly because he explains that the infamous Brummie curry has left his vocal cords a tad worse for wear.

For more from Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard take a look at their website: www.buzzardbuzzardbuzzard.com

You can find Fitzroy Holt via: www.facebook.com/fitzroyholtofficial

To see what Mama Roux’s have on, check out www.mamarouxs.co.uk

Writer Sannah Yousaf / Photographer BRYCE

Rising R&B star Indigo Marshall has been on the Birmingham music scene for a few years now, making an impression on its residents with her classic take on RnB. Her songwriting paired with chilling vocals regularly leaves the room a bit in awe.

Indigo Marshall’s latest EP titled The Fall, was released on 4 March, and it does exactly what music is supposed to do. When you close your eyes and listen to the title track, it’s like you are living her story yourself. A tale of heartbreak, confusion, finding yourself, all intertwined within this one EP. As a writer, I appreciate the skill and strength it takes to vulnerably tell your own story like Indigo does.

Besides, who doesn’t need a good sad girl hours playlist to get them through the long, lonely nights?

Last year, Indigo released her song ‘Questions’, which was a strong start to her EP release journey. ‘Questions’, tells you more about Indigo as an artist, and a person. She sings about questioning her past relationship, about how so many things were left unanswered, and as I’m sure many of us can attest to, how experiences like this can leave us with a lot of confusion and pain.

Indigo’s interviews are humble and you can see her calming nature, which is something I strongly believe is a must in an artist. If your fans can’t connect with you then how will you flourish?

In 2022 alone, Indigo Marshall released a music video, played ‘Love Music Hate Racism’ and sold out her headline show at the Hare and Hounds last month.

Speaking about just one RnB artist from Birmingham is almost like searching for a needle in a haystack, there’s too much talent in this city to find just one. But, Indigo Marshall definitely stands out.

If you want to find out what’s coming up for Indigo Marshall, take a look at her website: www.indigomarshall.com

Writer Emily Doyle / Photographer Alice Needham

As the Easter bank holiday weekend draws to a close, a select crowd of discerning listeners gather at Centrala. Local noisemonger Joe Parkes, a.k.a. Pale World, stands with his back to the audience, illuminated only by the fading spring daylight and an array of LEDs.

A gut-rumbling drone shakes the venue.

Pale World’s set is corrosive. It’s a sensory onslaught punctuated only by brief glimpses of rhythm. It’s the kind of sound that makes you uncomfortably aware of the hairs on your head and the way your teeth fit into your gums.

At one point Parkes takes a violin bow to a piece of sheet metal to produce some piercing tones. Once the bow is visibly shredded he flings it across the henge of Orange amplifiers.

The lack of a front-of-house playlist between acts feels considered and unnerving.

The lights go up as post-hardcore An Apparition tune up, silhouetted against the blue and yellow drapings of Centrala’s ‘We Are Here: From Ukraine’ exhibition.

Their punchy approach is considerably more stripped back than Pale World, with less effects pedals between the whole band than Parkes had to himself. Between short, sharp, punky outbursts, An Apparition are quick to express their appreciation for the turnout. Judging by the reception, the feeling is mutual.

After a brief line-check, polling audience members on whether the vocals are too high in the mix, Brighton’s Chalk Hands round off the evening with their unapologetically emo sound.

It’s emphatic, sincere, and delivered with total precision. Some listeners might not expect to hear this combination of melodic guitar lines, screamo vocals, and abrupt time signature changes quite this far from the year 2004, but the front row are loving it and instigate multiple sing-a-longs.

“When you guys said, ‘Yeah, we listened to the album a bit’” one of the vocalists laughs, “… you even know the lyrics to the song in French. What the fuck.”

For more on Brum locals Pale World check out their Bandcamp here: www.paleworld.bandcamp.com
For more on An Apparition, check out their self titled release through Half Melted Brain Records here: www.halfmeltedbrainrecords.bandcamp.com/album/an-apparition

For more on Brighton-based headliners Chalk Hands visit: www.chalkhands.bandcamp.com/music

For information about Centrala, including their current art exhibitions, go to: www.centrala-space.org.uk