Courtney Barnett - Solo Show at Slow Boat Records

Courtney Barnett onstage at Slow Boat

Having recently made the move from the UK to New Zealand and just this last week to Wellington, I’m now in the process of familiarising myself with the local music scene (amongst countless other things in my new hometown). Whilst this can often be a hard process to start in a new city, especially when you’re no longer energetic enough go to every gig you see advertised, I’ve found local record shops to be the key. There are countless books, blog posts and documentaries that attest to the fact that if you’re lucky enough to be in a city with a great local record store, then it can be a brilliant resource for discovering what’s going on musically. For me, in Wellington, Slow Boat Records would appear to be that store.

Slow Boat isn’t a well kept secret by any means, in fact it’s somewhat of a New Zealand institution. The longest running independent record store in the country, it’s a favourite spot for serious music nerds, casual fans and visiting musicians alike and boasts a pretty amazing selection of records from all over the world. So it makes perfect sense that Slow Boat is where I saw my first proper gig in New Zealand, a lunchtime, in-store, solo show by Courtney Barnett ahead of her sold out show at Bodega that evening. 

Based in Melbourne, Barnett is a critically acclaimed indie rock musician whose debut album “Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit”, is a masterpiece of noisey, loose and most importantly clever, alternative rock. The songs on this record, though very well constructed, can at times seem like they’re almost on the verge of collapse due to the energetic but amiable looseness of Barnett’s performance. But it’s always seemed to me that the band dynamic and sound is pretty vital to the music on this record. Her great performances of songs like the wry, dissatisfied “Pedestrian At Best” on various US TV shows did everything to convince me of how good a musician and lyricist Barnett is but also reinforced the notion that these were “band” songs.

So needless to say I was intrigued as to what this solo set would be like as I and about 150 other people crowded amongst the racks at Slow Boat. Right from the start I was struck by how funny Barnett’s lyrics are. As much as I’d admired her storytelling abilities when listening to the record, there was something about seeing these songs performed live that made me and others in the crowd laugh out loud. Lines like “The paramedic thinks I'm clever ‘cause i play guitar / I think she’s clever ‘cause she stops people dying” - taken from “Avant Gardner” - delivered in Barnett’s deadpan, pretenceless style are so simple and true that it's hard not to find them funny. There is also an emotional honesty to these songs that seems somewhat effortless. The melancholy “Depreston” moves almost seamlessly from a story about house hunting to pondering the life of a woman who’s house is being sold after her death. Somehow it captures perfectly the mix of intrigue, sadness and frustration that those situations can create but without ever feeling forced or overwrought. Barnett was in a genial mood, chatting with crowd, telling funny stories about the origins of her songs and, when she became distracted by it halfway through her rendition of “Dead Fox”, pausing to marvel at a poster advertising an old Bob Dylan and Patti Smith show. When she’d finished and left the stage, the store’s manager returned to thank her and lead the crowd in singing happy birthday to Barnett, who had turned 28 a day or two ago. 

It's safe to say that at no point during the show did I feel the absence of a band. These songs can carry their own weight and are just as effective if they’re played with a full band or by one woman with a telecaster. The fact remains that they are clever and well written and the loose, noisey sound on the record, is just one way they can be performed. Perhaps it’s the definitive way but it’s not by any means the only one.

Courtney Barnett's album “Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit” is available now on iTunes.

Rodriguez Live At The Albert Hall - 27/05/2015

I’ve been to a lot of concerts in my life. Like nearly every music lover my age, I’ve spent half my life going to see bands play from the smallest bars to the biggest arenas. I’ve seen hot, new up and coming bands, acts at the apex of their careers and well established musicians that started playing decades before I was born. Rodriguez at the Albert Hall was not one that I will easily forget, but perhaps not for the reasons you may expect.  

The Sixto Rodriguez story is a good one. If you haven't seen it, the academy award winning documentary “Searching For Sugarman” is well worth your time. A little known singer songwriter from Detroit, his two albums, released in the early 70's, were commercial flops in the US, despite his obvious talent and the faith of his producers and record labels. His music career went nowhere and he settled into a life of manual labour and factory work.

Unbeknownst to him, he had become a huge success in South Africa. Despite the limited availability of his albums for some time, he had developed a huge following amongst the growing counter culture during the era of apartheid, becoming more well known and loved than both Elvis and the Rolling Stones. But he was nowhere to be found. With no knowledge of the success and adoration awaiting him in South Africa, Rodriguez never toured or recorded after 1973. It seemed to his fans that he had just vanished and rumours of an on stage suicide were rife. Eventually, in the late 1990's a couple of intrepid fans tracked him down and contacted him, eventually arranging a concert in South Africa and re-igniting Rodriguez's musical career. The film disregards some aspects of the story, notably the fact that he had toured Australia in 1981 and still had a following there, but it’s an undeniably interesting tale that’s made all the better by being told through an engaging film. So, since the 1990’s his career has been growing steadily, his two albums were reissued in 2009 and with the release of “Searching For Sugarman” in 2012, his notoriety skyrocketed. Now at the age of 72 Rodriguez is now playing sold out shows around the world, including two nights at the Royal Albert Hall.

I had heard Rodriguez’s records when the film was released and I enjoyed them. Both albums are the kind of tuneful, clever psychedelic pop that was a big part of my childhood. I could hear echoes of Love’s “Forever Changes” in the arrangements and hints of Dylan in the lyrics but with an original voice that kept it engaging. I didn’t quite see what had resonated so strongly with the people of South Africa but I’m a white man in London in 2015, far removed from the political and social climate of that time and place. Overall though I enjoyed his music enough that when the opportunity presented itself, I went to see him play.

I must have missed something. I’m sure of it. Whether the crowd at the show had all come from South Africa or I was just not paying proper attention to either the records or the documentary, I’m not sure. Whatever it was, the level of adoration and excitement for Rodriguez was beyond anything I’d seen before. First of all, the Albert Hall, which for those of you that are unfamiliar is a huge, prestigious, victorian concert hall in London, was packed to the rafters with fans. Who from what I could see, were predominantly white, older men, occasionally with their wives or kids in tow. Then there was a standing ovation for Rodriguez before he even got on stage. A good two minutes before. When he did finally come on stage, shuffling and supported by two of his daughters, there was even more applause, followed by near constant declarations of affection from audience members. This kind of unfettered love is rare to see at any performance but for a man who released two albums four decades ago and who most of these people have only been aware of for three years, It seems almost impossible. But, again, I thought to myself “I’ve just not picked up on something. I’m sure once he get’s going, I’ll get it.”

Rodriguez on stage at the Royal Albert Hall

My main thought about Rodriguez throughout the set was how frail he looked. His walk was a slow shuffle and he leant on a table placed next to him for support as he drank from two cups of tea between songs. At 72 he’s not a young guy but when I think of other performers around his age, Springsteen, Neil Young, Ray Davies all of who still have tonnes of energy, it’s a little jarring. That said, he played his guitar with gusto. A frenetic and complex strumming that, whilst not always audible, still looked like he knew what he was doing. His vocals on the other hand were often mumbled and slightly off key, sometimes lost behind the backing band. But the crowd loved it, roaring with appreciation at the end of each song and continuing to shout about how much they loved him as he conferred with his band between numbers.

For a man who has been praised for his song-writing and compared favourably to the great writers of his generation, Rodriguez seemed determined to cram as many covers into his set as he could. “La Bamba”, “Blue Suede Shoes”, “Somebody To Love” and others were all wheeled out, sometimes it seemed even to the surprise of the backing band who I could see pulling confused faces and occasionally shrugging to each other. As is sometimes the case with older artists, it was the band that was doing the heavy lifting. The rhythm section were tight and energetic and quite frankly I would pay good money to watch the lead guitarist jam out on stage any night of the week. Though they were able to cope with the curve balls they were being thrown, each song seemed to follow a distinct pattern. Rodriguez would start playing, the band would join in and halfway through the song, there would be an extended guitar solo that lasted for the rest of the number. After a while, the band would signal to each other and the drummer would make it very obvious that the song was coming to an end. I’m not sure how rehearsed or planned this was, but it seemed clear who was leading who. 

I’ve seen shows in a similar vein to this before. Brian Wilson is a great example. A revered, older songwriter plays his hits to an audience of devoted fans whilst the majority of the work is done by a tight group of much younger musicians. And to my mind, there is nothing wrong with that set up. It affords some people the chance to relive their youth for a couple of hours and for younger audience members to get a glimpse of musicians that have inspired countless others and made a huge impact on our cultural world. With artists like Brian Wilson, I completely understand the draw and I completely understand why they have such devoted fans. What perplexes me about Rodriguez, is that he has managed to garner the same love and appreciation from a UK audience in what is essentially a very short career and I don’t quite understand why. Both of his albums are great, but there are only 2 of them and they’re 40 years old now. To my mind, for an audience to respond with such adoration as they did to this show, there either needs to be a large, well known body of work to draw from (Brian Wilson again serves as an example) or a performance that dispels all doubt (ever seen Springsteen play a 3 hour show?), neither of which were present here. I don’t wish to come off as cynical or mean spirited, Rodriguez deserves success and recognition for his work and his story, but I saw and heard little to support the fervor of his fans. But in the end, being able to instil that kind of devotion in people is something to be admired, even if I’m not sure I see it myself.

D.D Dumbo Live At St Pancras Old Church - November 9th 2014

Churches make for odd gig venues. They're always atmospheric and interesting, not to mention acoustically superior to most buildings but they create a sense of reverence amongst an audience that, when paired with the wrong artist can detract a little from the show. Luckily for me and the other 60 or so people at D.D. Dumbo's show at the haunting, cracked and wonderful St Pancras Old Church in King's Cross, that wasn't the case here.
 
Having first heard of D.D Dumbo via NPR's brilliant field recording's series, I was intrigued to hear more of his rhythmic, guitar driven music and to see for myself just how his approach to live performance works.

Judging by his sparse between-song-chatter D.D Dumbo (Oliver Perry off stage) is a fairly unassuming guy. Soft spoken, polite and funny. The songs themselves though are complex, clever, and driven by almost irresistible grooves and rhythms. A lone figure on stage, Perry creates these layered and vibrant tunes from scratch using 2 drums, a modified Danelectro 12 string guitar, a loop pedal and a microphone.