Cornershop: a good band

Michael Gallacher took the above photo

I got to cover a Cornershop show last Friday. A lot of people wrongly assume that they have little to offer beyond their globe-smashing mega hit but in truth they're one of the most consistently brilliant bands around. My pathetic, fawning review is pasted below and hasn't gone live at the time of writing this. I didn't get a chance to mention how great their recent collaborative album Cornershop and the Double 'O' Groove of is because they didn't play anything from it, but it's essential listening as far as I'm concerned, is the case with all their LPs. Brilliant, brilliant band. It's quite hard to find out any real information about them, but I do know that while all the other bands spent the nineties hanging out with William Burroughs, they got Allen Ginsberg to appear on a their album. Therefore they are as good as '60s Dylan.

I think I was stood behind Frances McKee throughout the gig. Her young kids weren't into the show and were running back and forth down the front, holding their hands over their ears and complaining. Really threatened to ruin my evening, actually. The perpetually sexy Vaselines frontwoman must learn to be more considerate of others, as I'm sure Kurt Cobain never tired of telling her.

Cornershop

Platform, Glasgow

20/1/12

**** 1/2

14 years since the event, 'Brimful of Asha's chart-topping success now seems like a momentous occasion in British cultural history. The '60s had seen the likes of George Harrison and Brian Jones incorporate sitar-solos into their bands' increasingly ambitious beat group fare, while Donovan made even minimalist Eastern drones palatable to the young. However successful these experiments were, they were guilty of evoking a sense of exoticism very much at odds with the country's expanding Asian population. Cornershop's moment in the sun saw frontman Tjinder Singh reclaim Indian instrumentation from its position as a pillar of psychedelic credibility, adding hip hop production and C86 indie jangle to the mix. 1997's When I Was Born for the 7^th Time is a modern classic of cultural assimilation and progress, and pointed to a way forward during the death-throes of Britpop. Sadly, the record currently languishes on the racks of Poundland and only Gareth Gates' collaboration with the Kumars at No. 42 has come close to having the same impact. Subsequent Cornershop releases have been infrequent, Singh citing an unreceptive musical climate as the cause of his stalled output. Live appearances are rare.

The seven-piece take to the stage this evening ostensibly in belated promotion of 2009's Judy Sucks a Lemon for Breakfast and are greeted by a modest yet partisan audience. The recent material's grooves are in a glam rock vein and demonstrate remarkable pop nous for a band that, by this point, has every right to feel jaded. 'The Roll Off Characteristics (Of History in the Making)' fuses thorny guitar riffs with playful Moog synth-lines, busy, percussive drumming and one of Singh's best vocals. 'Soul School' melds sitar with a dirty, fuzzy bassline, while 'Who Fingered Rock 'n' Roll?' is the sort of Stonesy rocker that Primal Scream frequently attempt to write but rarely pull off.

Every song played deserves to have been a huge hit and as such, there is a slight air of futility about tonight's set which sees the band hidden away in an arts centre. That 'Brim Full of Asha' receives the same rapturous response as less celebrated oldies 'Lessons Learned from Rocky I to Rocky III' and an extended, feedback-driven '6 A.M. Jullander Shere' suggests that they have at least outgrown their status as one hit wonders. Whether they can dominate the airwaves again remains to be seen, but this is essential music that deserves to be heard.

Lewis Porteous

Fanzine: director's cut

A crazed egomaniac, I have a real hard-on for seeing my name in print. Publications may refuse to present it in the same font as the Def Leppard logo or using ink which smells of 'Stunning Eau De Parfum', Katie Price's top fragrance, but it remains a great name and one that the public will never tire of reading. You do realise that dotting lower-case 'I's with little hearts was my idea, yeah? You're welcome, legions of imitators. An upper-case 'Q' that's seen to coyly suck on a lollipop while twirling its hair round its forefinger? I'm working on it, compelled to just... create, y'know?

The downside of seeing my name, which is 'Lewis Porteous', in print is that writing for physical publications imposes stricter word-limits on my 'craft'. It can be frustrating producing solid 300-400 word pieces for regularly updated websites, only to have 100 words or less at my disposal when trying to impress the kind of readership that a well distributed magazine guarantees. I'm rarely satisfied whenever I read back magazine copy, though acknowledge that these reviews have to be pretty shallow by their nature.

I agreed to cover shows by King Charles and Fanzine a couple of months ago, for The Fly's magazine and website, respectively. The former put on what was probably the most risible performance I have ever witnessed and yet seemed poised for enormous mainstream success in the coming year. His apparent need to bask in the adulation of teenage girls genuinely unsettled me, yet I also resented him for seemingly lacking the nerve to commit the sort of moral transgression that any number of legendary 1950s rock 'n' rollers wouldn't have thought twice about. It was a fun night- my friend and I especially enjoyed it when a young lady approached us to ask if we were “massive K.C. fans” like her- but I could say nothing good about it. I explained this to my editor and, happily, a review was off the cards. I covered Fanzine soon after, went on holiday and forgot about the show.

I leafed through a copy of The Fly this weekend and saw that my piece on Fanzine had been included in heavily edited form, possibly in place of the mooted King Charles piece. It reads OK, but when a review is substantially reduced in size, its structure and content will inevitably seem a little off, at least to the writer. In this case, I'd maybe rather my work had been attributed to Alan Smithee (a pseudonym used by directors who wish not to be associated with a film for which they would normally be credited, numb-nuts).

EDIT: Upon re-reading it just now, the magazine version is fine, it just seems a little short of context, perhaps even too specific. Sorry to have wasted your time.

Feel free to compare the original and the edit as produced below!

Original

Fanzine

Cabaret Voltaire, Edinburgh

19/11/11

****

Since the Libertines broke big with their brand of gritty mockney, most commercially viable UK guitar bands tend to impose a strong sense of national identity onto their music, having apparently learnt nothing from Britpop's mistakes. Currently touring in support of like-minded Londoners Yuck, Fanzine recognise that flag waving is for squares and are a mouth-watering proposition in the current climate. Though touted as students of the sort of noise pop associated with Sonic Youth and Dinosaur Jr., the group's sound is markedly more laid back and closer to that of early Teenage Fanclub and even nineties Glam Rock revisionists Denim.

Tonight is their first time playing in Scotland and though nerves do show, their material is strong enough that they quickly relax and allow it to speak for them. Opening track and new single 'Roman Holiday' is an infectious highlight, buoyed by a crunching guitar line and nonchalant harmonies. The following 'L.A.', meanwhile, sees the group set their frayed Shoegaze atop sprightly Phil Spector drums and sounds, like much of their set, wistfully nostalgic for a time in their lives that hasn't actually passed. Though they only play for 20 minutes, they display bags of promise and are a hit with the Yuck fans. While critics tend to regard Slacker Rock as an American art form, Fanzine peddle a distinctly British strain of it, both bands on tonight's bill hinting that a widespread resurrection of the sound could well be imminent.

http://www.the-fly.co.uk/reviews/live/1010882/fanzine/

Edit

Tonight is Fanzine's first time in playing in Scotland and though their nerves do show, their material is strong enough that they quickly relax and allow it to speak for them. Opening track 'Roman Holiday' is an infectious highlight, buoyed by a crunching guitar line and nonchalant harmonies. The following 'L.A.', meanwhile, sees the group set their frayed Shoegaze atop sprightly Phil Spector drums, like much of their set, wistfully nostalgic for a time in their lives that hasn't actually passed. Though they only play for 20 minutes, they display bags of promise. While critics tend to regard slacker rock as an American art form, Fanzine peddle a distinctly British and rather brilliant strain of it.

Low Anthem review or: A Fly debut for a Super Fly guy

Back in 2009, when The Fly asked me to cover a Low Anthem concert and submit my review to them electronically, I had never heard of the band, let alone the Internet. I went to the show ignorant of their discography and remained oblivious to the names of the instruments that they played, the gender of each band member, the language they were singing in and the entire point of the evening for days afterwards.

In the wake of the show, I was forced to undertake a crash IT competency course and consort with an array of muso bores, learning words as complicated and diverse as 'music', 'guitar' and 'crotale'. The term 'double bass', referring to an object that I had previously assumed was called 'Captain Slap-Slap', was revelatory in its simple beauty. I symbolically burned my by-this-point extensive collection of quills in a gesture lost on a vulgar fire rescue team and set to work amidst the blaze. Here is what I wrote. At the very least, I think it reads as though I knew what I was talking about, perhaps to its detriment. My reference to where the frontman is from seems especially forced and unnecessary. Excuse the formatting.

First piece for The Fly! Three stars! Original link at the bottom. What I can't paste in are the comments originally left under the article. They're lost forever, although one person did agree with me about the singer's “pissy” attitude.

The Low Anthem
Oran Mor, Glasgow
07/09/2009
***
At one point during his group’s Scottish debut show, frontman Ben Knox Miller laments The Low Anthem‘s formative years on the Rhode Island live circuit, during which they were forced to perform in a succession of “terrible, terrible sports bars”. From the pained tones with which the Providence native recounts these experiences, it is clear that whatever footing the band has gained on the international Americana stage has been hard-won. Not that one could tell from Miller’s fanfare-killing entrance, ignoring an expectant crowd so that he might instead turn his attention towards the venue’s lavish lighting arrangement, presumably too slick for his liking – “These red lights… can we kill those?”

From their ensuing performance, it is clear that The Low Anthem‘s immediate response to having unexpectedly built up a sizeable following is to simply act oblivious of its existence. The trio may find themselves an unexpectedly fashionable proposition following the rise of Fleet Foxes, with whom a penchant for rustic Americana and choral harmonies is shared. However, comparisons between them and their Bella Union labelmates are rendered redundant in the live setting as the band flits from extremes of pastoral contemplation to raucous noise, rarely courting compromise between the two.

‘To the Ghosts Who Write History Books’ proves a suitably captivating opener for a set consistently met with hushed reverence. ‘Charlie Darwin’, the near title track of the band’s sophomore album, meanwhile, epitomises shimmering, uncertain fragility, the multi-instrumentalists’ cracked harmonies tangling with layers of delicate feedback, coaxed from Jocie Adams’ crotales. Following an aching rendition of ‘Ticket Taker’, a lyric which confirms Miller’s mastery of character-driven narrative, Jeff Prystowsky delivers an authentic double bass solo in the mould of classic jazz. The band soon segues into a stirring rendition of American standard ‘Old Dan Tucker’.

Five songs into their set, there is no doubt that The Low Anthem are equipped with enough expertise and sense of adventure to mine something truly unique from familiar subject matter. However, while the up-tempo numbers played serve to broaden the set’s stylistic remit, and are fully-realised in their own right, they tend to jar with their introspective neighbours. And while the band is to be commended for following their own instincts, one suspects that they may have to consciously decide on a means of reconciling the intimacy that apparently comes naturally to them with the expansive sound required by larger venues. After all, they’re a long way from those sports bars now.

Lewis Porteous
 http://www.the-fly.co.uk/reviews/live/5868/Live-Review-The-Low-Anthem/