After my ravingly enthusiastic review of a Lau gig in London earlier this year it will come as no surprise to read that tonight was another triumph for a trio that just seem to get better and better as the years go by. Playing to a sold out Queens Hall, this was yet another superb performance of virtuosity and delight, met with a fully deserved standing ovation at the end of the night.
Support came from New York singer/songwriter Simi Stone. Playing fiddle and guitar, and aided for some of the set by guitarist Dan Whitehouse, Stone mostly sang her own songs. With a powerful voice, at times reminiscent of Carole King, a chatty relationship with her audience, simple but effective arrangements, and some interesting lyrics, she proved to be a good warm up act and set the scene for what was to follow. So I may have been in a minority in finding that voice uninspiring, even a touch flat at times, and the songs verging towards platitudinous pop, but Stone just din't do it for me. Some nice work on the strings from Whitehouse though.
All that is forgotten once Martin, Kris and Aidan take the stage. Further dramatised by a theatrical light show, the music was as magical as ever. A mix of tunes and songs from albums past and present, but with fresh arrangements for some of the old stuff, and some well conceived segues that maintained the momentum of the gig. Once again Midnight Feast proved a highlight, with probably the finest rendition of this great song I have yet heard the band deliver.
Nothing stays the same in the world of Lau, and their ever increasing mastery of electronics, underwritten by their innate musicianship, mean there is always something unexpected to enjoy, no matter how many times I go to see this band. It's an experience that remains unsurpassed.
Sunday 29 November 2015
Friday 27 November 2015
Cera Impala and the New Prohibition Band
Back in the House again, after a gap of several weeks, and what a grin-inducing event to return to.
Opening proceedings was folk icon and Edinburgh songwriting legend, Sandy Wright. On the occasion, he informed us, of his 65th birthday. Accompanied by Sarah McFadyen on fiddle and banjo, and Joey Sanderson on cello, Wright (piano accordion), launched into one of his best known compositions, Steel and Stone. Untroubled by any need to milk applause, the group segued on into another two songs before pausing to let the audience catch up. This gig was never predictable.
Joined onstage by Cera Impala and Dirk Ronneburg, we were given an eclectic mix of songs and some hilarious introductions. As a quintet they were clearly unrehearsed, and it mattered not a bit. The odd discordant moment only added to the sense of watching something unique, the essence of live performance. Wright doesn't have the world's greatest voice. But then neither does Dylan. He does have warmth, imagination and humanity, and these more than make up for any technical imperfections. He's a simple joy to listen to, and to watch.
After the break Cera and her band performed a range of new songs, many from their forthcoming album, Tumbleweed (and I'm looking forward to hearing that in the near future). Mostly self-penned, her music is a mix of country, jazz, blues and a range of influences that reflects her international background. The voice is husky, jazzy and sweet, her phrasing original and captivating. A solo number with sparse ukulele accompaniment opened the set and was captivating. Add in her finger picking banjo sound, and the sympathetic virtuoso fiddle of Doctor Dirk, plus the double bass of Sanderson, and you get the the New Prohibition sound. Some beautiful lyrics and memorable tunes, thoughtful arrangements and rhythms to get the feet tapping. The eccentrically talented Sanderson, on cello, double bass and cymbal (atop said bass), brings a vocal style that swings along a spectrum roughly bounded by Maria Callas and Tom Waits....
Above all this was a fun night, an event the audience felt drawn in to and won't forget quickly.
Tuesday 17 November 2015
The Lady in the Van
Bennettophobes should look away now for this is peak Bennett. With two old ladies, no less than three incarnations of the man himself, and a whimsical mix of real world events and inventiveness, this is about as Bennetty as it gets.
The story chronicles the relationship of the writer to Miss Shepherd, an eccentric elderly lady who ended up residing in a van on his driveway for fifteen years until her death. It is also Bennett's attempt to understand a little more of the woman who lived in such close proximity, yet in many ways remained a mystery to him. There were hints that her past included a considerable musical talent, a period as a nun, and some personal tragedies. Seemingly sustained by Catholic guilt, and self-centred, disputational and delusional in her dealings with the rest of humanity, she is far from being a cosy guest.
Maggie Smith's performance ensures Shepherd can never be viewed with sentimentality. She is cantankerous, dysfunctional, intolerant and rude, yet endlessly fascinating, shrouded in mysteries and occasionally an object of pity. Yet providing several laugh out loud moments.
Alex Jennings makes a convincing pair of Bennetts, one living in the real world, bound in his behaviour by the codes of lower middle class politeness, the other the writer, viewing everything and everyone as a source of material. His own conversations with himself, querying his motives and sometimes imagining himself to be other than he is, give us some of the film's best moments.
There are some lovely supporting performances too. Gwen Taylor is a portrait of genteel repression as Bennett's mother, Jim Broadbent is genuinely creepy as a (fictional) ex policeman, and Roger Allam stands out, as he so often does, as the perfect middle class snob. There are plenty of other familiar faces dotted throughout, but who turn down the chance to deliver some dialogue from the master of comic mundanity?
The film tells you much about Bennett himself, and the world he inhabits, but at heart it's about a life that has fallen through the cracks in the pavement. If you're not an AB fan it might all be a bit too much. But I am, and this was very enjoyable way to pass the time.
The story chronicles the relationship of the writer to Miss Shepherd, an eccentric elderly lady who ended up residing in a van on his driveway for fifteen years until her death. It is also Bennett's attempt to understand a little more of the woman who lived in such close proximity, yet in many ways remained a mystery to him. There were hints that her past included a considerable musical talent, a period as a nun, and some personal tragedies. Seemingly sustained by Catholic guilt, and self-centred, disputational and delusional in her dealings with the rest of humanity, she is far from being a cosy guest.
Maggie Smith's performance ensures Shepherd can never be viewed with sentimentality. She is cantankerous, dysfunctional, intolerant and rude, yet endlessly fascinating, shrouded in mysteries and occasionally an object of pity. Yet providing several laugh out loud moments.
Alex Jennings makes a convincing pair of Bennetts, one living in the real world, bound in his behaviour by the codes of lower middle class politeness, the other the writer, viewing everything and everyone as a source of material. His own conversations with himself, querying his motives and sometimes imagining himself to be other than he is, give us some of the film's best moments.
There are some lovely supporting performances too. Gwen Taylor is a portrait of genteel repression as Bennett's mother, Jim Broadbent is genuinely creepy as a (fictional) ex policeman, and Roger Allam stands out, as he so often does, as the perfect middle class snob. There are plenty of other familiar faces dotted throughout, but who turn down the chance to deliver some dialogue from the master of comic mundanity?
The film tells you much about Bennett himself, and the world he inhabits, but at heart it's about a life that has fallen through the cracks in the pavement. If you're not an AB fan it might all be a bit too much. But I am, and this was very enjoyable way to pass the time.
Tuesday 3 November 2015
Suffragette
Set in 1912, this is the story of a housewife and laundry worker who becomes involved in the activities of the Suffragette movement. Something of an accidental activist, Maud Watts (Carey Mulligan) learns lessons she cannot unlearn and her experiences build within her a deep commitment to the suffragist cause. This will bring her personal hardship, a broken family and violent clashes with the authorities, all borne by her increasing belief in the rightness of her actions.
Mulligan is superb as the central character, bringing emotion, passion and gritty conviction to the role, and she more than makes up for any quibbles there might be about script or plot. In many ways the two most interesting personas are the classic archetypes of revolution and the state. Helena Bonham Carter can sometimes be a disruptive screen presence, but here her Edith Ellyn is every inch the ideologically driven organiser that every movement needs. While Brendan Gleeson is the policeman, the state functionary who views his purpose in life being to uphold the law, irrespective of the morality involved. Both take positions that cannot admit any alternatives, both carry the scent of the fanatic.
Those quibbles? The Meryl Streep cameo added little to the storyline and loudly proclaimed "We need a star name to sell this in the US". Having Maud as such an active participant in the death of the Suffragettes' most renowned martyr stretched credulity a bit too far. And, a very personal viewpoint this, whilst I admired the depiction of the forced feeding so many women were subjected to, it seemed a shame not squeeze in a mention of the most desperate act of a desperate government, the notorious Cat and Mouse Act.
Cinematically this is largely a world of dark interiors and grimy streets, the the occasional insight into the opulence of the upper classes. Underneath this dull surface a few striking images pop up from time to time, adding the occasional artistic flourish.
It's hard to produce a film that provides mainstream entertainment and still delivers a deeply relevant social message, but Suffragette pulls it off. Largely due to the admirable Mulligan. If the story fails to bring out both anger and empathy in you then you might need to recognise that you may be part of the problem. Because this film, in particular the subtlety of the ending, is a reminder that the struggles for women's rights did not end with the Pankhursts. If you know anyone who says that feminism isn't needed any more, or who thinks voting is a waste of time, get them to a screening of Suffragette. Force fed or otherwise....
Mulligan is superb as the central character, bringing emotion, passion and gritty conviction to the role, and she more than makes up for any quibbles there might be about script or plot. In many ways the two most interesting personas are the classic archetypes of revolution and the state. Helena Bonham Carter can sometimes be a disruptive screen presence, but here her Edith Ellyn is every inch the ideologically driven organiser that every movement needs. While Brendan Gleeson is the policeman, the state functionary who views his purpose in life being to uphold the law, irrespective of the morality involved. Both take positions that cannot admit any alternatives, both carry the scent of the fanatic.
Those quibbles? The Meryl Streep cameo added little to the storyline and loudly proclaimed "We need a star name to sell this in the US". Having Maud as such an active participant in the death of the Suffragettes' most renowned martyr stretched credulity a bit too far. And, a very personal viewpoint this, whilst I admired the depiction of the forced feeding so many women were subjected to, it seemed a shame not squeeze in a mention of the most desperate act of a desperate government, the notorious Cat and Mouse Act.
Cinematically this is largely a world of dark interiors and grimy streets, the the occasional insight into the opulence of the upper classes. Underneath this dull surface a few striking images pop up from time to time, adding the occasional artistic flourish.
It's hard to produce a film that provides mainstream entertainment and still delivers a deeply relevant social message, but Suffragette pulls it off. Largely due to the admirable Mulligan. If the story fails to bring out both anger and empathy in you then you might need to recognise that you may be part of the problem. Because this film, in particular the subtlety of the ending, is a reminder that the struggles for women's rights did not end with the Pankhursts. If you know anyone who says that feminism isn't needed any more, or who thinks voting is a waste of time, get them to a screening of Suffragette. Force fed or otherwise....
Kosmos Ensemble, Traverse
From Polish Tango to Romanian wedding dance, throwing in Jewish, Greek, Japanese, Gypsy, Turkish and who knows what else influences. There's even a bit of Brahms. The term 'World Music' tends to conjure up a folksy image, but genuinely brought us sounds from all over the globe, but in a more classical format. The choice of numbers is eclectic, arrangements are not merely imaginative, but constantly surprising, and there is virtuosity in abundance.
The trio use violin, viola and piano accordion to produce a rich sound, almost orchestral in depth at times, but with the simplicity of the people's music. Harriet Mackenzie's violin technique includes one of the most aggressive pizzicato's I've seen, and attacking bowed passages will suddenly give way to a gentle caress. She's like a fiddling dominatrix. On viola Meg Hamilton can be seen to revel in the chance to improvise and bring freshness to everything she touches. Miloš Milivojević plays accordion in a quiet, understated manner, but the solo Romanian piece he played was one of the highlights of the evening.
There were times, for this listener at least, when the music evoked more admiration than excitement. But there was a disconnect about the event that maybe prevented my full involvement. In a venue where I'm used to seeing jazz, rock and folk it came as a surprise to find this was more concert than gig. The formality of taking a bow after every piece, and the cut glass accents of the two fiddlers, would have felt more at home in in a more formal venue, and the band need to learn to adapt their audience technique to different venues.
But that carp aside, this was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. For anyone who appreciates a high standard of musicianship, and the rhythms and cadences of Eastern Europe and beyond, Kosmos are a band you can depend on.
The trio use violin, viola and piano accordion to produce a rich sound, almost orchestral in depth at times, but with the simplicity of the people's music. Harriet Mackenzie's violin technique includes one of the most aggressive pizzicato's I've seen, and attacking bowed passages will suddenly give way to a gentle caress. She's like a fiddling dominatrix. On viola Meg Hamilton can be seen to revel in the chance to improvise and bring freshness to everything she touches. Miloš Milivojević plays accordion in a quiet, understated manner, but the solo Romanian piece he played was one of the highlights of the evening.
There were times, for this listener at least, when the music evoked more admiration than excitement. But there was a disconnect about the event that maybe prevented my full involvement. In a venue where I'm used to seeing jazz, rock and folk it came as a surprise to find this was more concert than gig. The formality of taking a bow after every piece, and the cut glass accents of the two fiddlers, would have felt more at home in in a more formal venue, and the band need to learn to adapt their audience technique to different venues.
But that carp aside, this was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. For anyone who appreciates a high standard of musicianship, and the rhythms and cadences of Eastern Europe and beyond, Kosmos are a band you can depend on.
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