Creatures of The Night @ Ashton Lane
With Pendulum, Foals, Capitals and Boycotts – 29th October
There are a number of things which first raised my suspicions in this Halloween event – The fact that it was run by a massive beer company (down wiv capitalism!), doubts it would be ‘the Halloween party to end them all’ it claimed and I suppose this is just snobbery, but the Pendulum DJ set.
It started of relatively gently with brilliant sets from local bands Boycotts and Capitals. They managed to pull in decent crowds and gave full on performances despite the tiny space of Brel’s conservatory. It does seem like I’m championing the underdog here, but it really is too easy when over at the Grosvenor Café, Pendulum took to the podium to inevitably reign over the whole event.
Yes, I have beef with Pendulum. I just can’t get over their relentless build ups and break downs and constant touring of an album released in 2008 – October must be a quiet time for the band, what with the Fresher’s Week season well and truly finished 2 months ago. Whilst there was an inordinate amount of fist pumping wankers at the front, Pendulum can only be applauded for filling such a large space and getting what felt like 3785 people bouncing simultaneously.
An interesting addition to their set were the caged dancers. A semi- nude man in a skirt gyrating to Propane Nightmares is always entertaining, although just a little awkward when the music cuts and drum n bass babe is transformed to overly ripped bloke hovering beneath some tent poles (sorry, no photos). The gig was fun though and on a day when the main idea is to lighten up and behave like a twat, it was entirely fitting.
Following this, Foals seemed to be set up as an alternative to the boisterous Pendulum and playing last, you could assume that they had a headline position. But the crowd had dwindled both in numbers and capacity to stand upright, meaning everything felt a bit chaotic. Although Foals are a guitar band, their characteristic fast-paced rhythms are solidly based in dance music, something which Edwin of the band explains: “Our first record was hugely influenced by dance music; I think we’re more comfortable producing our own music now and we’re really into clubbing”. It was quite difficult however to pick out these home grown treats, but they did manage to pin the tone of the night well, with classics from Hot Chip and Daft Punk.
Calling an event Creatures of The Night is asking for it – Millers have set up a joke against themselves there for the real creatures of the night were not the artists or people dressed up and employed to invade the personal space of guests by breathing in their faces in an attempt to be scary, but the reliably drunken, face painted masses of Ashton Lane. And that exactly personifies the merry, hideous idea of Halloween.
Words by Megan Donald
Photos by Jassy Earl
Mid Week Mellowness – A new GUM playlist
In this consciously upbeat dedication to ambient pop and acoustic, Jassy Earl takes us through some of her favourite current tunes that will definitely make you want to forget about that crappy Thursday and retreat to the woods…
[ONE] Ben Howard – The Wolves
It may seem an obvious choice but raving earlier over Ben Howard’s debut, I was astonished to be deafened by replies of “who?!” If you haven’t heard of him yet, it begs the question as to whether you’ve been tracking down polar bears in the Hebrides or have indeed lost your hearing after too many night on Sauchiehall Street. His album Every Kingdom is an intimate beach side jam and a layering of folk and mainstream pop; a showcase of raspy voice and magnificent guitar virtuosity. It’s a sound comparable to Jose Gonzalez’ and is definitely about and beyond the hyper-popular appeal of Ed Sheeran. There’s believability and a raw emotional loading. The Wolves itself is haunting and soulful amongst complicated guitar patterns and military drum beats; and empowering antherm that should be the top of your Most Played list.
[TWO] Lucy Rose – Middle of The Bed
After supporting Ben Howard on Tour, Lucy Rose is one to look out for. She finished her A-Levels, lent her vocals to Bombay Bicycle’s ‘Flaws’ and has continued to follow in the footsteps of Laura Marling and Emmy the Great, who have spurned a new generation of female singer-songwriters. Beautiful lyrics, acoustic melodies and a subtle husky tone loaded with beautiful harmonies and simple storytelling lyrics makes the track a catchy one. It’s also worth checking out Don’t You Worry - more sombre, but still magnificent.
[THREE] Dead Letter Chorus – Run Wild
Pure, unadulterated fun that will have you running around your room like a 5 year old on smarties. It’s another of those you need to see the video to appreciate its seduction and its ability to produce a delightful nostalgia. Dress up as a wolf, run around the Botanic Gardens with a pile of leaves shouting “da-dee-da” at the top of your lungs and scare those squirrels away. I know I want to.
[FOUR] Gotye ft. Kimbra – Somebody That I Used to Know
It’s a song that will have you undoubtedly hitting away at the replay button over and over again. A collaboration between the Belgian-Australian multi-instrumentalist and the New Zealander Kimbra, it’s true to say the subject matter isn’t the most uplifting but the innocent melodic xylophone and simple acoustic quality of anguish combine to send chills down the spine. Wait until Kimbra starts singing and you’ll definitely appreciate what all the fuss is about. With Gotye’s Sting like voice and Kimbra’s 1960’s soul quality, and a conceptually artistic video to boot, it’s one you won’t get away from easily.
[FIVE] Admiral Fallow – Old Balloons
Somewhere between Arcade Fire and Mumford and Sons, with a wee bit of Sons and Daughters chucked in there; its folk charged with a buoyancy and richness amongst the electric pile of instruments; flutes, clarinets, double bass and violins. The harmonious collective of male and female voices, choral bombast and idyllic Scottish imagery (the sea, the sky, the rain), along with Louis Abbott’s imaginative storytelling and dulcet tones are sure to warm the ‘ol cockles on a chilly autumn morning.
Review – Foreign Office @ SWG3
No, not the oh so British establishment that reminds daft tourists to take their Malaria tablets on their gap year! There is no baldy William Hague here.
Foreign Office make music embedded deep in new wave and post punk with plenty of spiky guitars and addictive, funk rooted rhythms. The gig was a brisk romp through their catalogue which is heavy in memorable, poppy hooks and joyful synth stabs. Lyrically, Foreign Office seem to be constantly yearning – it’s all begging and pleases, something which seemed appropriate on the night – Please let there be more people, “I’m on my Hands and Knees, PLEASE”** The sparse audience however, were appreciative and eager to embrace what is importantly still a fairly unrecognised band.
But with a tour supporting Young Knives (a match made in heaven), Foreign Office are a band that are unlikely to be left on the art rock waste pile. Their remarkable similarity to the ever-popular Rapture – in their sound, look and influences – will probably be another aid to their career. It can’t then go unmentioned that The Rapture are playing the same venue a week later – it seems like the aesthetically-concerned SWG3 are pinning their colours to the wall in their recent venture into gigs. But, as un-riotous as this night was, it felt like a taste of what is to come from Foreign Office who hopefully after this tour will gain some well-deserved recognition.
**Have a look at their most recent single “Hands and Knees” here (hopefully the hilarious tenuous reference makes sense now..)
Words by Megan Donald
Photos by Jassy Earl
Vanishing Point returned to the Tramway with a show reminiscent of ‘Interiors’, their last production. Separated from the stage by a panel of glass, the audience survey the action as if they were looking into a block of flats. Privy to no character dialogue whatsoever, we only hear sounds such as the television set, a hoover and a guitar being strummed. In the two flats we are allowed to see, the muted actors perform in mime. Above the main point of action, an old woman sits in a small room for the entire performance watching a television in the dark. Beneath her a young couple give a display of their life.
The piece begins slowly, with the couple moving into the flat, arranging their furniture, listening to the radio, burning their cooking and other menial tasks. Their life is seemingly ordinary. The pace begins to accelerate and the performance simultaneously acquires a new surrealism. Suddenly the wife becomes heavily pregnant and kisses her neighbour on the sofa before going into labour in the bathroom. As she gives birth to her baby between the sink and bath it is snatched away by a midwife who suddenly appears whilst the other three main characters stand oblivious next door. The living room’s back door swings open of its own accord: actors in slightly ridiculous gorilla and astronaut costumes enter, startling the young wife. She finds her husband lying motionless on the sofa and cannot wake him up. It conspires that he is dead, her neighbours enter and exit rapidly, asking her favours, ignoring the body slumped before them. By this time, the living room is a cluttered mess and ivy has descended from the ceiling into the room. The auditorium is left confused. The sheet of glass between us and the action has isolated us from the play’s meaning. The significance of what we’ve endured is anyone’s guess.
Just as our minds begin to worry about how we’ll make conversation about this mish-mash in the Tramway bar, the old woman from the flat above appears on the lower level and looks about the debris of her life strewn around the living room. In an instant everything is justified and clear. It becomes clear that everything we have seen is symbolic of occurrences in the woman’s life. Her affair, her miscarriage and the death of her husband – along with her friends’ abandonment of her after this – have all been represented in miniature form, packed tight into a short Saturday evening.
It is tempting to think that everything we have seen was the visions of the elderly woman, seconds before her death. Perhaps the astronauts and gorillas she sees are her mind playing tricks on her, mistaking the figures for forensic doctors who remove her body from the stage in the play’s final seconds. Perhaps the haste of the play’s latter stages is an acknowledgement of how quickly life passes by. At the same time the vines hanging down into the room might denote the stagnation of the woman’s life and the messy living room hint at how difficult life is to control. What is remarkable about Vanishing Point’s production is the split second metamorphosis at the end. One second we are baffled, the next we are handed a huge pool of thoughts and opinions about the play by the final revelation.
‘Saturday Night’ is not always enjoyable to watch, but perhaps that is the point. Life is complicated and incomprehensible and often leaves us feeling lost and lonely, like the elderly lady at the end. As in ‘Interiors’, watching the performers act through a sheet of glass at times feels tiresome – even the most naturalist of scenes will have subtle traces of exaggeration; the actors must ensure we know exactly what we’re watching – but this prying perspective is an interesting one. Totally restricting an audience from dialogue is a rare and daring choice to make. It provides an atmosphere in which the clever representation of the woman’s life thrives. Whilst it is confusing and at times aggravating to watch, ‘Saturday Night’ triggers the audience’s sympathy at its climax and its resolution leaves us considering how we will fare in the remainder of our lives.
Review by: Abraham ParkerClare
