Patrick Wolf: Animal whimsy

 I went to this on Friday. It was a fun evening and a very different set to that which I saw the effete Londoner perform as Arcade Fire's support act about five years ago. It seemed as though the venue was issuing access all areas passes to everyone on the guestlist which, as you can imagine, made me feel extremely important. You know you've entered the big leagues when Patrick Wolf is practically begging you to hang out in his back stage area. That isn't a gay joke. It reads like one, but it isn't.

Patrick Wolf

The Pleasance Theatre, Edinburgh

8/2/13

Touring in support of Sundark and Riverlight, a double album comprising stripped down re-recordings of familiar material, 2013 is Patrick Wolf's jubilee year. A full decade has passed since the release of his debut and he's marking the occasion by casting a retrospective eye over his catalogue to date. At the ripe old age of 29, he can no longer be marvelled at as a precocious wunderkind, nor can he hide behind layers of electronic production, at least for the time being. Tonight finds him fronting an acoustic four-piece and performing with a clarity of vision largely absent from his previous work.

He may be heard pondering “what road to be choosing” on set opener 'The Gypsy King', surely an acknowledgement of the career crossroads at which he finds himself, but Wolf is undoubtedly enjoying the freedom and spontaneity that his current ensemble affords him. Backed by swelling accordion and fiddle, he's hit upon a rich vein of Weimar cabaret pop and excels in playing the part of a melodramatic troubadour. His voice has matured into a guttural growl reminiscent of Edwyn Collins' and he teases beautiful notes from his ukulele without a hint of twee gimmickry. His older material clearly retains a great deal of meaning to him and he approaches the songs with vigour and purpose.

Bare bones takes on the likes of 'Overture' and 'Pigeon Song' are brave and moving, but Wolf's willingness to delve into his past is balanced by a desire to reflect on his current circumstances. As such, unfortunate moments of saccharine sentimentality creep into the set, most notably on 2011's 'House', played tonight as a po-faced ode to domestic bliss. However striking it is to see Wolf in this context, it's during these moments of self indulgent sincerity that the audience finds itself craving just a little more artifice from the performer.

Lewis Porteous

Mike Heron & Trembling Bells: Heron addicts

I submitted this to The Fly a week ago. It isn't on their site, but should be soon. I love early ISB and once saw Mike Heron support Robyn Hitchcock. That was in 2010, I think. Anyway, Trembling Bells are ace and really made this Celtic Connections performance memorable. I had a painful headache on the evening but, like a true professional, neglected to mention this fact in my review. You know what else? I was only sitting next to the uncle of a member of folk instrumentalists Rura, wasn't I? A proud, proud man.

Two facts about Mike Heron:

1. Vinyl Villains is selling the majority of the Incredible String Band's discography and claims that each record was formerly Heron's personal copy.

2. The owner of my favourite record shop, VoxBoxMusic, once told me that Heron was so delighted to see a copy of his solo debut Smiling Men With Bad Reputations on display in-store that he returned with a small entourage hours later to point at it.

Mike Heron & Trembling Bells

The Mitchell Auditorium, Glasgow

24/1/13

Had songwriters Mike Heron and Robin Williamson split four or five albums into their career, the Incredible String Band's legacy would be immaculate. As things turned out, perception of their partnership has been tainted by knowledge of escalating animosity between the pair and their eventual foray into Scientology. Although the duo continued to produce interesting work as the seventies wore on, they came to embody the death of the previous decade's hippy dream and left many admirers disillusioned. Even long time producer and manager Joe Boyd now seems almost embarrassed by the duo, his memoirs suggesting that "Mike and Robin represent aspects of the sixties its survivors find most embarrassing... History has deemed ISB terminally unhip, forever identified with an incense-drenched, tripped out folkiness." What the Svengali failed to note is that for a horde of emerging psych folk stars, Joanna Newsom and Devandra Banhart among them, his former charges are as hip as it gets; they were never less than inventive and, at their best, made vital, forward thinking music.

Tonight Mike Heron shambles meekly on stage, his appearance calling to mind a shrunken Gerard Depardieu. He may not look the part, but it soon becomes clear that he's very much an artist re-invigorated. He's collaborating with Trembling Bells, Glasgow's leading purveyors of tripped out trad, and it's difficult to imagine more sympathetic allies. They encase the rickety likes of 'Greatest Friend' and 'Chinese White' in a shimmering, kaleidoscopic wall of sound and, while Heron's voice is initially lost in the mix, he becomes a gently authoritative presence as the evening progresses. Particularly impressive are 'Black Jack Davy''s freewheeling, fiddle led stomp, the rousing, unaccompanied harmonies of 'Sleepers Awake!' and the ecstatic, unfathomable 'Very Cellular Song'.

For their part, Trembling Bells' new arrangements of ISB tracks frequently surpass those of the originals and they respectfully leave their mark on a handful of Robin Williamson compositions, most notably the devotional 'Maya'. The mutual admiration between Heron and the group is obvious and the evening offers tantalising hope that the unassuming 70 year old may yet enjoy a long overdue second wind.

Lewis Porteous