The Futureheads - Cluny - 20/04/11 (Gig)

If The Futureheads had got their heads together before tonight’s Japanese Tsunami Relief Benefit show and attempted to sketch out the ideal set of circumstances in which to extract optimum charitable goodwill, they would probably have struggled to come up with a better scenario than that which we actually encounter tonight. The seemingly endless supply of bank holidays stretched languidly in front of us has dovetailed beautifully with the unexpected delight of the first proper sunshine of the year, making Ouseburn Valley a pretty fucking happy place. Throw in a stellar supporting cast of some of the North East’s finest musicians, and you’ve got practically the perfect recipe to tease hands into pockets.

Because we’ve got five sets to accommodate tonight, the running order is squeezed about as tightly as can be, and it commences with Michael Littlefield who steps onstage in front of basically no-one, although thankfully a smattering of people drizzle in as his set progresses. Littlefield unassumingly informs us that he plans to play some Blues songs, which turn out to be absolutely immaculately observed. If his renditions of the likes of Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters seem just a little like hero-worship, then it’s forgivable because his voice is so authentic and his guitar work so accomplished.

Littlefield is followed by The Lake Poets, aka Martin Longstaff, a (mostly) solo artist who is currently doing a pretty decent job of hauling himself up the North East gigging hierarchy. These days it’s treacherously easy for acoustic singer-songwriters to tumble irredeemably into the ever-expanding sea of non-descript one-man/woman projects who forget to write actual songs, but so far Longstaff’s work has kept him a safe distance from the ocean of drips. The combination of his timorous, vulnerable vocal and his gently soaring songs, the scale of which become more apparent when he is joined late in the set by his backing band, illustrate pretty succinctly just why his popularity is increasing so steadily.

Speaking of growing repute, Grandfather Birds aren’t doing too badly on that front either, now that their grizzled charm is spawning impressive singles and propelling them around the country. They’re up against it a little tonight, because the malfunctioning microphone demons that occasionally tease Littlefield and The Lake Poets decide they’re going to well and truly bully Grandfather Birds, which isn’t really fair because their poor old singer is already battling a sore throat as it is. In spite of the fates’ concerted efforts to throw them off course, though, they’re brilliant, overcoming the odds triumphantly with a collection of intricately-fabricated songs, tinged with the odd intriguing splash of darkness.

The final support act of the evening is billed simply as Adam James Cooper, but, as Cooper himself acknowledges, that’s a bit of a disservice to the six other musicians who join him on stage, because we’re not talking about a solo artist with interchangeable backing musos here, this feels like a proper band in the fullest sense of the word. Their raucous, booze-soaked pub-folk is the nicest surprise of the night. It’s absolutely infectious, and it augments the already boisterous air of good cheer which pervades the Cluny.

By the time The Futureheads make their way out, the venue is, unsurprisingly (and gratifyingly) rammed. It was always going to be, of course, because the band have been selling out much bigger rooms than the Cluny for years, so it’s a pretty special feeling to have them back in the best small venue in the North East of England. It’s not just the Cluny that makes their appearance feel like a one-off though, it’s also the fact that tonight is a departure from your traditional breakneck Futureheads rock show, it’s a gig which sees them discard all instrumentation save for Barry’s acoustic guitar, meaning that Jaff, Ross and Dave find themselves exclusively on vocal duties. It’s clearly an alien position for them to be in, but the act of casting aside the fetters of traditional instrumental structures brings the band’s interplay (always a hugely endearing feature of their gigs) even more tangibly to the surface. Tonight’s set up lends itself to banter, and after a decade together, The Futureheads are masters of the art.

The set list is as relaxed as the chatter, meandering aimlessly through all four records, and including a pleasantly surprising outing for ‘Thursday’, a riotous singalong encore of ‘Heartbeat Song’ and the traditional crowd-war japes of ‘Hounds of Love’. There’s also room for more outlandish propositions too, like ‘The Keeper’, a 17th Century hunting song (which is at odds with the band’s 50% veggie population), and traditional drinking song ‘The Old Dun Cow’, which features a creditable shouting and stamping cameo from the entire crowd. It’s all enormously fun stuff which, in a strange way reminds us of why this gig is being put on in the first place. Because, in spite of the obvious solemnity of the cause, tonight is a life-affirming celebration of the power of music to be able to do something wonderful – no matter how small in the scale of Japan’s devastation – to help people.

Roddy Woomble - Cluny 2 - 02/04/11 (Gig)

Roddy Woomble looks and sounds pretty weather-beaten these days. Perhaps it’s down to those rough Scottish winters (or maybe even Scottish summers, come to think of it), but it means he can play the part of fully-fledged grizzly folkster pretty convincingly now. If latter day Idlewild felt a little forced and cumbersome, then it seems like the freedom of going solo has done him good, because tonight he is relaxed and amiable, and his homespun folk songs come across as entirely authentic, giving us a heartwarming insight into his love affair with Scotland. The lovely enveloping cosiness of a full Cluny 2 helps augment this feeling of warmth and goodwill to all men, providing an intimacy which is lacking only a campfire. He works beautifully with his backing trio, weaving through his two solo records, with highlights including the unashamed MOR bounce of ‘Roll Along’ and the unfussy elegance of ‘I Came in From the Mountain’. So strong is the set that I’d almost forgotten about Idlewild by the time ‘You Held the World in Your Arms’ is dropped into the encore, but it’s a nice surprise, and speaks volumes about a man completely at ease with both his past and present.

Elbow - Sheffield Motorpoint Arena - 19/03/2011 (Gig)

Arena Gigs. A scourge of ‘proper music’ symptomatic of the soulless lucre-driven market in which we wallow, or a necessary evil which we must all occasionally abide to enjoy certain bands at the more popular end of the scale? Well, now that Elbow are officially ‘A Big Band’, then it would appear that the only way that it is now possible to enjoy their enduring meat-n-potatoes charm in the live setting is for us to drag ourselves to the identi-hangars which punctuate the outskirts of our major cities.

As a far from frequent visitor to Britain’s overgrown tin sheds it is with a sense of uneasiness that I step into Sheffield’s ridiculously-monikered Motorpoint Arena tonight, a sentiment which isn’t helped when I’m greeted by idiotically-priced beer and snacks, as well as toilet queues more reminiscent of a football ground than a gig venue. (Although, I’ll concede that part of my discomfort may stem from being torn briefly from my beloved NewcastleGateshead). Fortunately, my sense of dépaysement disippates completely the second Elbow emerge on stage, as the reassuringly familiar sight and sound of the band soothe my jangling nerves.

Anybody with any kind of experience of Elbow as a band can probably predict with a fair degree of accuracy what their live shows are like, as they blend the ground-shaking anthemics that have carried them to the enormodromes with moments of disarming intimacy with an enviable ease. The absence of any real element of surprise (an ill-fated attempt at on-stage cocktail mixing notwithstanding) however, takes absolutely nothing away from just what a genuine pleasure the show is. Guy’s personality fills the place just as formidably as his wounded bear vocal, and you get the impression that, in spite of the bizarre Bieber walkway down which he frequently prowls into the crowd, he would treat this show the same whether it was at the Motorpoint, or the function room of a working men’s club. His relaxed and spontaneous chit-chat between songs renders him impossible to dislike, and it surely strips away any questions that any remaining hard-hearted folk may have about just why so many people feel such warmth towards Elbow.

The set list is pretty heavy on the last two records, with absolutely nothing from Asleep in the Back or Cast of Thousands being featured, and only a handful of songs from Leaders of the Free World making an appearance. Whether the band’s surroundings have influenced them to make a conscious concession to their biggest unit shifters, or whether they’re just a bit sick of playing songs that have been around for a decade or more is unclear. Either way, while it might be a bit disappointing that the likes of ‘Red’, ‘New Born’ and ‘Grace Under Pressure’ are absent, it’s a minor gripe, because the material we are treated to is pretty fucking special.

Even though it’s only been a fortnight since the release of Build a Rocket Boys!, its songs already sit in impressively comfortable fashion alongside their forebears like age-old compatriots. In particular, the stirring set opener ‘The Birds’, ‘Open Arms’ and ‘Neat Little Rows’ sound fantastic tonight, as do a bracing version of ‘Grounds For Divorce’, a typically gorgeous ‘One Day Like This’ and ‘The Fix’ which sees a popular homecoming cameo from Richard Hawley. ‘Station Approach’, too, sounds wonderful, a classic slice of Elbow triumphalism which beautifully eulogises the joy of returning home after a period away.

At the moment, Elbow would appear to be right at the peak of their creative and commercial powers, and it would take a pretty harsh critic to begrudge them their current position. Their rise in popularity has been a gradual but inevitable one, centring around the admirable paragons of hard work and good old-fashioned songwriting. Tonight’s show makes it abundantly plain that all five of them feel privileged to be where they are, and it would be enormously surprised if they started slacking any time soon. Enjoy your success, lads, you’ve earned it.

Iron and Wine - Gateshead Sage 16/03/11 (Gig)

I’m just going to say it. There are far too many singer-songwriter types. The main consequence of this surfeit is that we’re completely and utterly inundated with bland fuckwits who seem to think that the purchase of an acoustic guitar comes with carte blanche to bleat dully about girls’n’shit to any unsuspecting suckers who happen to be in earshot. Step forward opening act Daniel Martin Moore, then, a man so stereotypically boring I don’t intend to waste any more of my word count on him. Based on the recorded evidence, Iron and Wine’s Sam Beam could certainly teach him a few lessons about how to maintain a balance between good ole-fashioned songcraft and actually being interesting. Things start off promisingly tonight, with Beam appearing relaxed and chatty,and his seven accompanists injecting songs from both ends of the discography with real gusto. But gradually, and almost imperceptibly, a change begins to permeate the set. What started off initially as satisfyingly full arrangements of the songs descend into interminable free-jazz wank-outs during which all eight musicians appear blissfully unaware of the presence of the crowd. It’s a fucking massive shame that the night takes this turn, because it takes more than a little bit of the shine off the wonderful songs and Beam’s impossibly warm vocal which is even more affecting when teamed up with the Sage’s space-age acoustics. An enormously frustrating night then, but hey, even a flawed Iron and Wine performance is preferable to what preceded it.

Efterklang - The Sage - 26/2/11 (Gig)

Sometimes a gig is more than just a band standing on a stage playing songs to a room full of people who like their records. Very occasionally, there are instances where band, venue and crowd come together in a beautiful and poetic unison and it’s suddenly about more than mere music, it’s about an experience in the fullest sense of the word. Tonight, (unexpectedly to me, I must concede), Efterklang provide one of those magical gigs.

Having never previously been inducted into the Efterklang live experience, for all I know this could represent a fairly standard show for them, in which case that would make them they greatest live band in the entire world. I have to admit that I wasn’t the biggest fan of Magic Chairs, which felt a little flat compared to the lunatic majesty of Parades, but the sheer unadulterated enthusiasm of the band’s performance tonight levels the playing field, and the songs from Magic Chairs stand with their heads held high, fit to share a setlist with their forebears. It seems such an obvious point, but for me the key difference between a genuinely enjoyable performance and just a decent gig is the amount of joy the band show in delivering their songs, and with Efterklang their constant grins make it abundantly plain; they are fucking loving being here tonight.

Aside from the enthusiasm with which the band ply their trade, it also helps matters that they can play a bit too. The extended seven-piece version of Efterklang are able to instill a massive orchestral grace to songs which already sounded pretty full to start with. From the understated elegaic groove of Rasmus Stolberg’s bass to Peter Broderick’s furious violin wig-outs, the musicality of the band is extraordinary. The lines between the duties of each individual musician become blurred throughout, with drummer Thomas Husmer also playing the trumpet, keyboardist Heather Woods Broderick moonlighting on the flute, and singer Casper Clausen constantly banging something with a drumstick, whether it is a drum, a cymbal or the Sage’s conveniently placed (and surprisingly tuneful) pipes.

One of the key things which makes tonight’s show so wonderful is the way Efterklang are able to bring into such sharp relief that magical little niche they have created between the pure and unsullied beauty of Sigur Rós and the unfettered joyousness of Arcade Fire. More than once, the show descends into a collective singalong where the divide between band and audience ceases to exist (particularly when one enthusiastic couple hug Casper near the end, and it feels completely and utterly acceptable.) By the time the band reach the culmination of final song ‘The Modern Drift’, all seven of them find themselves stood on the edge of the sage leading us into a cathartic acapella clapping session (the impact of which is no doubt aided by the Sage’s expensive space-age acoustics).

When Efterklang depart the stage for the final time, I don’t think I am the only person left standing on the floor bemused by what I have just witnessed. It genuinely takes me a few minutes to get my breath and my bearings back. Fortunately, the band seem to like the Sage, which bodes well for our prospects of getting them back here in the near future. I have just one littler pointer for Casper to remember for the band’s next visit though: Try and remember you’re in Gateshead, not Newcastle. A lesser band would have been lynched for such a heinous crime...

Band of Horses - Newcastle O2 Academy 26/01/2011 (Gig)

When the fuck did Band of Horses became big enough to be packing out the Academy’s main room? I’d suggest it might be something to do with Twilight, but the ratio of males to females here tonight gives lie to that little theory. Whatever it was that brought about their popularity, the band, making their return to the live arena after a few months off the road, are for the most part in awesome form tonight. They emphatically cast aside the limpness that has latterly started to creep into their recorded output, playing with a pleasantly surprising vitality and transforming their sun-dappled Americana into bona fide arena-razing anthems, accompanying the whole thing with some beautiful backdrops (Seriously, why don’t more bands make an effort with the visual side of their shows?) Given the highs of the set, it's a shame that there are odd occasions when it can sag, which may have something to do with the general flatness of the possibly-vampire-enhanced crowd. Thankfully though, even this sorry bunch come to life during The Funeral and Is There a Ghost?, two songs which perfectly encapsulate all that is good about Band of Horses’ gorgeously warm songcraft.

Frightened Rabbit - Northumbria Uni - 23/11/2010 (Gig)

As the scene of my ‘education’, Northumbria University will always hold a special place in my heart, primarily because of the many sweaty, boozy hours I spent in its Student Union watching bands both good and bad. However, as I have gradually degenerated from a hip ‘n’ happenin’ snake-hipped teen to a doughy late twenties office drone, so too did Northumbria fall from its pedestal as a regular fixture in Newcastle’s gig scene. Now though, after a major refit which has included reducing the capacity of the upstairs room (and in the process massively improving its atmosphere), it appears that the place is slowly trying to claw its way back into favour, having recently nabbed a couple of gigs which would usually be shoe-ins for one of the Academy venues. If you’ve ever been to the Academy in Newcastle, you’ll agree this is undoubtedly no bad thing.

Frightened Rabbit’s visit to Northumbria comes at the end of a successful year which is about to climax with a slot at Bowlie 2 in a couple of weeks, which seems a fitting way to celebrate how nicely their third record The Winter of Mixed Drinks has consolidated the massive critical acclaim which was liberally lobbed at previous album The Midnight Organ Fight. In keeping with all the good cheer surrounding the band (although Scott will hear nothing of the festive season until we’re into December), they are in wonderfully relaxed and amiable form tonight. The set is made up almost completely of the last two records (with the exception of Be Less Rude), which, to be fair, illustrates the massive bounds Frightened Rabbit have made as a band since their earliest days.

As time has gone on, there’s no doubt that their music has grown more polished. Obviously, this isn’t always a positive step, and it’s been the death of plenty of bands before them, but in Frightened Rabbit’s case the progression of their sound it has felt like a logical, organic growth, taking place as they have gradually accumulated members and grown in both confidence and stature. Clearly, the self-deprecating emotional heft wielded by the lyrics has always been a major factor in making their songs so fucking stirring, but it feels like we’re now at a point where it’s not just about Scott’s words, because the music is every bit as enriching.

It‘s not unfair to say that The Winter of Mixed Drinks has taken a while to fully seep into people’s hearts and minds, and it’s possible that this is due to it being so different from its predecessor (ie it’s not a heart-shredding break-up record) but now that we’ve had nine months or so to live with them, the newer songs are sitting comfortably alongside their older counterparts. Indeed, Swim Until You Can’t See Land, and encore closer The Loneliness and the Scream are two of the evening’s high points, providing just as much singalong potential as the likes of I Feel Better and The Modern Leper.

As it turns out though, it ends up being two of The Midnight Organ Fight’s more tender moments which stand out most this evening. Poke and Good Arms vs Bad Arms are delivered solo by Scott, and it’s raw, gut-punching stuff. These songs serve to prove that no matter what strengths Frightened Rabbit develop as a band, ultimately, the thing they will always do best is to articulate the bleakest depths of lovelorn misery, and drag you down there with them. It’s undoubtedly a ride worth taking though.

Minus the Bear - O2 Academy 2 - 16/11/2010 (Gig)

It takes a hardy soul to brave the rancorous North-East winter when it is not absolutely necessary, so it is to the credit of Serious Young Men Newcastle-wide that the Academy 2 is two-thirds full on a night when the freezing fog stings your nostrils. Those present tonight are rewarded for their courage with an exemplary set of beard-stroking virtuosity from a Minus the Bear who are taking a welcome side-step from their current Jimmy Eat World support slots. This, in fact, may be the reason why tonight feels like a one-off rather than just another leg of a tour, and may be why the band are so relaxed and engaging between songs, in a manner which belies the solemn nature of their music. It’s the sheer skilfulness of their musicianship which is most impressive though, constantly illustrating the fact that these are five fucking talented people. The intricacy and melodiousness of their playing often calls to mind a less abstract version of Battles, although unlike their meandering countrymen, Minus the Bear’s musical detours usually give the impression that they are leading somewhere. Tonight we have witnessed a criminally underrated band whose passion and skill deserves a wider audience.

Grammatics - Brudenell Social Club, Leeds - 20/8/2010 (Gig)

About a month back, and seemingly out of the blue to the majority of us, Grammatics announced their intention to split, citing insurmountable financial woes as the primary cause. I have watched their latter days with interest, both as a fan of the band, and also as someone intrigued by the machinations of the music industry. They have fallen back on online resources to repay their debts by selling off band paraphernalia, merchandise and little exclusive treats like access to rehearsal time and gigs in people’s gardens. While it has been disagreeable to see a band having to resort to flogging off parts of their history, it’s also encouraging that these days they would have the means to be able to do this to break even, and it has also allowed them to draw a neat line under their story with a final tour and a farewell EP.

Tonight sees the very last leg of their send-off, the last ever Grammatics gig which takes place (of course) in their hometown, and features (of course) two locally-based support acts. Opening band These Monsters are gloriously chaotic, battering the shit out of their instruments, themselves, and our ears. Their songs are messy, unkempt, but thrillingly energetic, and they seem to raise the Brudenell’s temperature to sweltering levels which don’t diminish for the rest of the evening. After the frenetic implosion of These Monsters’ set, there is a sea change in tone when Blue Roses steps onto the stage. There is an endearing sense of awkwardness around her between song chat, which belies the extraordinary, spellbinding voice upon which her music hinges. There is a clear debt of gratitude owed to Joanna Newsom, but it’s difficult to quibble when the songs are so beautifully presented.

By the time Grammatics emerge onstage it is pushing eleven o’clock and there isn’t a soul in the room not drenched in a not-altogether pleasant cocktail of their own and someone else’s sweat. There is also a strange feeling in the tangy air, a mix of anticipation and sadness that this is the very last time that this band will play together. Indeed, one girl at the bar feels the need to tell me about how much she is going to cry tonight, and enquires whether I will experience the same response. Now I’m a bit too stoic a boy for all that (and, to be fair, probably not as drunk as my interlocutor), but as the band commence with the stuttering, swooning The Shadow Committee, there is no denying that it does feel a little emotional.

As the show progresses, the sense that this is their last one ever begins to dissipate (for a while at least), and the gig settles in to feel almost like any other. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because it means that both we and they can relax a little and enjoy the night without it taking on a funereal air. The band themselves might not be particularly chatty, understandably, but they are in wonderful form. In typical Grammatics fashion, the songs are full, polished and deliciously melodramatic. It feels like a wise move when they drop album closer Swansong into the middle of the set as opposed to ending proceedings with it, because as far as choosing a song to permanently end Grammatics as a live band goes, this would probably be a little too on the nose.

The main set finishes with Double Negative, a song accurately described by Owen as ‘the whitest hiphop ever’, and it is here that the fun ends, and the sweet sting of finality begins to take hold. Having primed us with a particularly fraught version of one of their most overwrought songs, Broken Wing, to open the encore, the band’s finale is a massive, throat-shredding Relentless Fours. It is brutal, cathartic and downright fucking beautiful, concluding with one final, tumultuous descent. And then that is it. Grammatics are no more.

Idlewild - O2 Academy 2 - 26/4/2010 (Gig)

Most indie fans will have seminal bands, those with a big role in shaping their tastes in their formative days, and for me, like many others, Idlewild were one of those bands. Tonight a completely crammed Academy 2 sees them on their final tour before an indefinite hiatus. It’s a strange night, because it serves as a reminder of the brutal creative force Idlewild once were, and the lifeless shadow of their former selves they eventually became. However, dips into the last three records are thankfully infrequent in a set which is heavy on 100 Broken Windows. The likes of ‘Idea Track’, ‘ Little Discourage’ and ‘Roseability’ are glorious throwbacks, searing flashes of anger which are brilliant examples of the bracing energy of Idlewild at their best. Not that all their post-2000 work was dreadful, mind you. When ‘American English’ closes the main set, it is genuine lump-in-the-throat stuff. Really, the best way we can remember Idlewild, is illustrated by the mid-set one-two-three of Hope is Important songs. They are delivered with a particularly savage intensity, and go a long way to eliminating the limp radio rock of recent years. For these wonderfully visceral moments, we will remember Idlewild fondly.

Blank Promotions First Birthday Bash - The Cluny - 28/03/10 (Gig)

With the exception of the lovely folky songcraft of opening act Lesley Rowley, tonight’s birthday bash for Blank Promotions is heavily laden with the new wave of post-rock bands. Sona Di exemplify this, as their fantastically tight musicianship builds up to a raging, roaring crescendo. Late additions to the bill worriedaboutsatan also display post-rock tendencies, albeit mingled with their beautifully textured electronica. Tonight their set is a bit of a mixed bag. When they step away from what appears to be a fascinating game of laptop Battleships and really let go, they are excellent, but there are times when it is difficult to take them seriously as a live band. Fellow Leodensians I Concur are far more engaging, ripping through a speedy set of their well-honed Mogwai-gone-pop songs. Lanterns on the Lake provide a nice gap in the gloom with a beautiful set of elegant, twinkling pop songs. Their lightness of touch belies the plethora of musicians crammed onto the Cluny’s stage, and were it not for the scintillating form of the headliners, they would be the band of the night. If Lanterns on the Lake represented a break in the clouds, Her Name is Calla prove to be the storm which engulfs the Cluny entirely. Just when it seems they will wander off into muso noodling territory, they pull it back with waves of crashing, doomy noise. Their set is an exhibition of their creativity and virtuosity, and serves as a tantalising taster for their new album later this year.

Wild Beasts - The Cluny, 20/03/10 (Gig)

You may or may not have noticed it in the last year or so, but we here at Muso's Guide are quite fond of Wild Beasts. After a raft of thoroughly deserved acclaim for their second album Two Dancers (including their capturing of the number one spot in our top 50 of 2009), the Kendalians' bandwagon is trundling merrily on with their current tour in support of the single release of 'We Still Got the Taste Dancin' On Our Tongues'. Ably supported by the darkly captivating work of Lone Wolf, and Erland and the Carnival, whose bouncy, mildly pyschedelic pop invokes the untethered sense of adventure shown by the early recordings of The Coral, Wild Beasts are quite clearly in the form of their lives.

So good are they, in fact, that you don't even feel all that hacked off that the Cluny is so ludicrously rammed that you aren't quite sure whose pocket you just put your hand in, or what might be causing that disconcerting trickle running down your back.

It is amost beyond debate that on record Wild Beasts are a band capable of breathtaking elegance, both in the lush structure of their music and the lunatic world portrayed by their lyrics. What makes tonight so enjoyable is that the grace of the songs is not only enhanced with a terrifyingly tight performance, but it is also infused with an extra sense of boisterousness which is massively contagious. The otherworldly quality of the songs could make it easy for the band to appear almost inhuman, but they don't just disappear into their pantomime world of Dickensian depravity, they externalise it, bringing it to life with such gusto that even the hardest of hearts would struggle not to warm to them.

The thing which jumps out at most people when they first encounter Wild Beasts is the extraordinary timbre of the vocals, both in Hayden Thorpe's insane falsetto (which has a knack of reaching such monumental peaks that even Matt Bellamy might consider it all a bit much) and in Tom Fleming's warm, rich baritone. The interplay between the two is sometimes spellbinding, and both are in fantastic fettle this evening. Their voices are wonderful foils for the music, and vice versa, a major factor in the quality of the recorded output, and even more so in a live setting, especially a tight little venue like the Cluny.

The setlist is quite heavy on Two Dancers, which is understandable really given that it is barely six months since the record saw its release. That it feels like so much longer that is a testament to the ageless quality of the record. Tonight illustrates that Wild Beasts are not a band to confine their mesmeric qualities to the recording studio, they are able to translate them in their live performance, and with every day that goes by they show themselves to be one of the most extraordinarily special bands we possess.

Blood Red Shoes - O2 Academy 2, 11/3/10 (Gig)

Sometimes as a gig-goer you can sense when a band is at the absolute peak of their powers. This evening, a group of people at a regrettably half-full Academy 2 are fortunate enough to catch Blood Red Shoes at this stage of their career. They play with the triumphant swagger of a band who know they’re touring a brilliant album, so much so that not even frequent guitar troubles, though clearly irksome to Laura-Mary, are not enough to dim their light. Having started off with a debut album which was just a little too polished, and then buffed away some of the gloss for Fire Like This, in the live setting they reduce it even further to its basic elements: thunderous drumming and brutally melodic guitar. I’ve always been astounded just how noisy two such slight people can be, but tonight they are ear-shreddingly intense. The set is heavy on the new material, which is probably as pleasing for the band as it is for the crowd, given how long they spent touring the first record, to the extent that the songs started to sound just a little tired. The break from touring has meant that when the likes of It’s Getting Boring by the Sea and Say Something, Say Anything are dropped into the set, they sound revived. Really, I could go on about this band all day, but apparently some other gigs took place this month too, so perhaps it’s only fair that they get a little page space…

Brilliant Mind, The Notebook and Mansfield Holiday - The Head of Steam, 9/3/10 (Gig)

It's fair to say that local gigs don't always feature entirely complementary line-ups, often shoe-horning a few bands together simply because they all happen to be free on a given night. Tonight's selection, however, would appear to be a little more thoughtfully assembled, rich as it is with sharp, literate guitar pop. Mansfield Holiday are our starting point. They reference any number of classic bands, but imbue it with a touch more aggression and some lovely keyboard noises. They are deceptively melodic amid the clamour, and thoroughly exhilarating. Next up we have the graceful, elegant The Notebook. Their bookish pop comes tinged with lilting Americana, with the exception of the thunderous mini post-rock epic they close the set with. They are a band who already sound fully formed, with the muddy sound of the Steamer failing to mask the quality of the songs. The same can be said of final band Brilliant Mind. The spirit of Pulp is heavy in the air tonight, particularly in the Jarvis-alike appearance of The Notebook's singer, but it is most apparent in Brilliant Mind's sharply-observed and wonderfully lean songcraft. Frontman Calum is a classic English pop star, a squirming, agitated creature whose presence enhances the band's appeal. Their set is truncated slightly by time constraints, but this just makes their playing all the more urgent. The likes of Leave Your Friends Behind and Our Osprey in particular are getting better with every show. All told, a great show. Three cracking bands for four quid - Take that economic meltdown!

Gig of the Year (Take 2) - Yeah Yeah Yeahs at Newcastle O2 Academy - 3/12/09

After last Thursday, I had little choice but to amend my choice for the Muso's Guide Gig of the Year piece. Good job it hasn't been run yet!

It isn’t just a trick of my memory that the best gig I’ve been to this year also happens to be my most recent. It’s just that Yeah Yeah Yeahs were THAT good at Newcastle Academy on December 3rd. It’s not easy whipping the indie-kids into a frenzy in a venue of that size (I’ve seen plenty of bands fail) but from start to finish the band were a whirling buzz of energy, and the crowd had no choice but to comply. The new songs were as visceral as the old ones, and showed that the band can now put together a pretty meaty set after three albums. There was a real triumphant feel to the show which rounded off a fantastic year for the band. It wasn’t just the best gig I’ve seen this year, it was one of the best I’ve ever seen.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Newcastle O2 Academy - 3/12/09 (Gig)

When you’re an indie luddite like me, it becomes a bit of a rarity to attend a gig which involves you running the gauntlet of vultures touting ill-gotten tickets outside the venue. Tonight’s appearance by Yeah Yeah Yeahs at Newcastle Academy is such an occasion, where the presence of a parade of scum-sucking touts serves as a reminder of the scale we’re dealing with here. The band have grown out of their days as NME hype victims into a permanent fixture in the indie big league. And rightly so, given the consistently high standard of their three full-length records.

But what of their live show? Well, it’s peerless. Karen O is the undoubted star of the show, a prowling, twirling, pogoing hipster dream, decked out in some sort of Amazing Technicolour Dream Poncho. Her voice is like razor blades dipped in honey, and when on ‘Cheated Hearts’ she sings “Sometimes I think that I’m bigger than the sound”, it’s with a glint in her eye. She knows she’ll never write a truer line, because she’s without doubt the most charismatic and engaging front woman we’ve seen this decade.

Not that it’s all about Karen, mind you. One of the things which have allowed Yeah Yeah Yeahs to endure the initial push is the fact that they are more than just KO and Friends. Drummer Brian Chase and guitarist Nick Zinner pull their weight too, and help to amplify the energy captured on the records. This applies as much to the synth-heavy songs of It’s Blitz! (understandably dominant in the setlist) as it does to the rawer older material. The newer tracks maintain their inherent groove, but still sit comfortably alongside songs from the first couple of records thanks mainly to Zinner’s guitar work which instils them with more raggedness than the versions committed to tape.

There’s a moment during the set tonight when the lights turn the ceiling bright blue and for a fleeting second you’re transported from a rainy December night in the North East to a field somewhere in the middle of summer. This sits perfectly with the triumphant, one-off feel of tonight’s show which can only be compared to that of a festival. The fact that the Academy’s floor is stickier than the boggiest of farmer’s fields only serves to add to that impression.

There are elements of tonight’s set which would come across as cloying and hackneyed in the hands of lesser bands than Yeah Yeah Yeahs. However, moments like the regular (and blatant) crowd-pandering screams of “Noo-caaa-sull” from Karen come across so enthusiastically that they just make the band seem more likeable. The same goes for the lighters-in-the-air acoustic version of ‘Maps’. Far from being a cynical and lazy ploy, it’s a genuinely warming slow dance fit for the first dance at the indiest of weddings.

It’s clear now that Yeah Yeah Yeahs are Indie royalty. Few other bands out there can grab your attention so fully and so completely that you want to squeeze as much as humanly possible out of every second you spend in their company. Tonight sees them absolutely at the peak of their powers, and twenty pounds seems an absolute bargain for the privelege of experiencing it. Did someone say ‘Gig of the year’? Yep, everyone in the room.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - Newcastle 02 Academy 2 - 2/12/09 (Gig)

It’s been a hell of a year for New Yorkers The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. They’ve triumphantly ridden a wave of blog-driven hype for the whole of 2009, picking up a legion of plaudits for their effortlessly wonderful debut album which has culminated in a top 10 place in our very own albums of the year poll . I had them far higher than 8th in my own personal list, but hey, such is democracy…

Tonight’s trip to Newcastle’s O2 Academy 2 sees them hauling in a respectably sized crowd of skinny check-shirted types. At first, it seems they are going to struggle to live up to our (admittedly colossal) expectations, as the songs commence in a worryingly anaemic manner. ‘This Love is Fucking Right!’, one of the most buoyant, gleeful moments on the record raises the curtain in fairly underwhelming fashion, as it is tossed out almost indifferently. It gives us serious cause to worry that Newcastle’s first experience of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart will be a disappointing one.

However, after a couple of songs, the band visibly begin to relax and settle into their stride. As they do so, the volume seems to pick up, the drumming seems sharper and more urgent, and their distinctive wash of sound fills the room. It all culminates fittingly in the sky-scraping ‘Gentle Sons’, a microcosm for the whole set which starts off with a powerful ‘Be My Baby’ drumbeat and gradually builds into a tumult of almost My Bloody Valentine-esque proportions.

In spite of the obvious progression in the quality of the performance, sadly the Academy remains absolutely devoid of atmosphere. Maybe it’s down to the less than top-quality sound which obscures the vocals even more than is probably intended, or whether the crowd are just having a bit of an off-night, it’s hard to say. However, it doesn’t make the band’s job any easier, nor does it reflect on their efforts to engage us with their songs and occasional smattering of likeably awkward between-song chatter.

One other slight gripe is that it is clear that the newer songs are the ones which inspire the most enthusiasm in the band. In particular, the tracks aired from their gorgeous new Higher Than the Stars EP seem to be delivered with the most fervour, as does the apparently nameless new song (very much in the vein of their previous work, by the way, and no worse off for it). It seems that perhaps they’ve now reached that stage which all bands will eventually reach after having toured the living shit out of their debut for God knows how many months. No matter how good the songs, their jadedness in playing them night after night after night begins to show. Tonight is only a minor example of this, and we still leave with our faith in The Pains of Being Pure at Heart firmly in tact, but perhaps now is the time for them to go to ground and commence the daunting task of following up this year’s breathtaking recorded output.

Gig of the Year - Dananananaykroyd (Newcastle Cluny - 21/10/09)

My bit from Muso's Guide's Gigs of the Year Feature

For all the praise it received this year, Dananananaykroyd’s album Hey Everyone didn’t quite click with me until I saw them at The Cluny in Newcastle in October. Their live show took me back to my formative gig-going experiences and the rush of The Cooper Temple Clause’s early sets. It blended merciless aggression with sheer fun, and their onstage chemistry was a joy, blurring the lines between band and crowd. It felt less like a gig, and more like a party, and predictably the hour or so they played felt like five minutes. They’ve got a big reputation as a live band, and it’s entirely justified.

Styles Make Fights - 4/11/09 - Cluny 2 (Gig)

Barely two weeks ago, we extolled the virtues of The Cluny. Well, Newcastle’s greatest gig spot recently said a commendable ‘fuck you’ to the recession and commandeered the former theatre next door, turning it into a mini-Cluny, called, of course, Cluny 2. The place is imbued with as much character as its big brother, and is a fitting addition to the family.

Our first visit there is for a show which marks the launch of the sterling new EP by Newcastle’s very own brilliant indie-popsters Styles Make Fights. The line-up, hand-picked by our headliners, starts off with a wonderful solo performance by Kieran Rafferty of White Collar Weapons.

We don’t believe for a second his assertion that he is part of ‘a thirteen piece band where twelve people haven’t turned up’, but in spite of his bare-faced lies, he’s a wonderfully likeable performer. His boisterously self-deprecating on-stage persona is reflected in his songs, raggedly charming as they are.

For someone who is presumably more used to playing with a band than alone, he looks completely at ease up there, and doesn’t seem at all perturbed when bits of his guitar start detaching themselves in his hand (alas, not the last guitar malfunction we will see this evening). His between-song chit-chat is as likeable as his songs, so that even when he is shamelessly touting for a job or a gig you can’t help but feel warmly towards him.

Second band Brilliant Mind are just as enjoyable as Rafferty, warming up nicely as their set goes on. They are the sort of classic indie pop band which only England has every been able to produce, and feature a front-man with some impressive Morrissey-meets-Paul Smith moves.

The songs at their disposal already seem completely effortless and fully-realised. It also definitely helps that they are all such good musicians, because the sharpness of the execution emphasises the sheer quality of the music. The fact that their best song of the night ‘Leave it Out, Rob’ is a new one is obviously an encouraging sign. They are a great foil for Styles Make Fights, sharing a similarly keen ear for a sharp melody.

As the years have gone by, our headliners have maintained a powerful pop sensibility but they’ve gradually instilled it with something a little edgier and darker. This has given them an enticing extra dimension, and might be something to do with the addition of new(ish) singer James, who gives a tetchy, agitated presence to their show.

The energy embedded in the songs has always been one of their strengths. As usual, this is reflected in their delivery, which carries the assurance of a band who know that they have a consistently strong set. With every show that goes by, songs like ‘Not Around’. ‘Rita and Betty’ and ‘ Chauffeurs’ sound more and more like classics. Even when they are struck by the distressingly potent curse of the malfunctioning guitar which is prevalent tonight, they manage to hold it together without any fuss or drama, consummate pros that they are.

Going into the second decade of the 21st Century, we find ourselves at a bit of a crossroads in the North-East. The decade’s first wave of our bands, led by Maximo Park and the Futureheads, found massive mainstream success. Then the second wave featuring the likes of Kubichek and Dartz produced fantastic albums, but kind of fizzled out. We are definitely primed for another attack on the national music scene, but we just need some kind of catalyst to kick it off. Tonight has made it quite clear that there is sufficient quality in the region to suggest that the third wave can’t be far off.

Dananananaykroyd - The Cluny - 21/10/09 (Gig)

It faces increasing competition from corporate monsters, state of the art music halls and University dives, but really there will never be a better place to see a band in Newcastle than The Cluny. Not content with just being a lovely pub, it is also the most character-filled gig venue for miles around. Alas, without the right bands to turn a small empty room into a shindig, all this would count for nothing. For the opening night of Dananananaykroyd’s Hugtober tour, the right band and the right venue coalesce in glorious and electric fashion.

Right from the opening notes of ‘Totally Bone’, the band are like cornered mongooses, spilling off the lovably tiny stage into the welcoming arms of the assembled throng. This is another mark in the Cluny’s favour; it is not the sort of place where over-zealous meat-heads crack skulls at any hint of band/crowd interaction, the two are free to mingle with impunity. And really, that’s kind of the point of Dananananaykroyd, a band for whom a gig is less a performance, more a party.

On the face of it, the venue isn’t as heaving as you might expect for a band who have generated the sort of buzz that our lairy Scotch mates have whipped up, but they seem happy enough, pointing out that the turnout is ‘not bad for a Wednesday’. Chuck in the fact that it’s a rotten night, and Jack White’s latest superband are busy claiming a sizeable chunk of Newcastle’s gig-going public across the other side of town, and tonight’s attendance is pretty respectable.

To be honest though, you get the impression that Dananana would play with just as much fire in their bellies if there had only been three people in the crowd. The secret to their likeability lies in the inexorable fact that they are clearly having the time of their lives up there. There’s a chemistry between the band, in particular their two singers, that can’t be faked. It’s this which inspires the really special moments like crowd singalongs, over-ambitious stage-dives and which at one stage induces a slightly inebriated chap to take the tour’s name to wonderfully literal levels by climbing on stage to give the band cuddles. Less ‘fight pop’, more ‘hug pop’ then.

At times the intensity of their light-speed playing, and screamy vocal interplay almost feels like too much, and it imbues the already impressive songs with an extra dimension of enjoyability. ‘Black Wax’ and ‘The Greater Than Symbol and the Hash’, in particular are chest-throbbingly powerful.

As Dananananaykroyd are a band with a growing live reputation who are now well into the promotional run for a well-received debut record, you would think that most self-respecting indie fans will have seen them at some point. However, if for any reason you haven’t, or even if they haven’t quite clicked for you yet, then for God’s sake get out and see them on this tour because they will make glorious sense. Quite frankly, there isn’t a more exciting and downright fun live band in the country at the moment.