From The Ground Up

As some may know, I now live in Brighton and one of the very best features of this town is the live music. I've seen some truly memorable bands and solo artists in the short time I've been here, and it's gratifying. A couple of weeks ago I caught the frenetic Japanese force of nature known as Melt Banana at the Engine Room, an excellently dingy basement bar right opposite the seaside, supported by The Shitty Limits. The latter band includes my friend Eddie and it was great to see them, as well as the small but significant entourage that accompanied them - Cheryl (of Counter Culture, the last bastion of grassroots music appreciation in my hometown of High Wycombe, and just a damn good record shop), Kieran (punk rock devotee, occasional promoter and all-round very decent chap) and Pook (the ever-lively frontman of Ska-Metal party-bringers Beat The Red Light). The Limits were playing a lot of new material and they've really upped their game, sticking to their strengths but broadening slightly in terms of composition and focus and tempo and stage presence and a fuckload more things as well. Melt Banana then proceeded to tear the town a new arsehole in the way that only Japanese extreme bands can - with vigour, creativity and character. The place was as hot as a hellish sauna. It was especially great for me because I'd never really listened to them before, trusting in their reputation by the word of like-minded friends and other fringe-ish musicians/journalists/promoters. All the hype was indeed justified. They melted my face a bit. Fuckin awesome.

While on the subject, discovering bands for the first time by seeing them live is the greatest pleasure a music fan can enjoy. They may be at their most elemental, enthusiastic and playful in this format and many of my current favourites 'sold' themselves to me by playing an outright awesome show at a night I had attended for a different reason. A good example of this is Matthew Houck a.k.a. Phosphorescent, who I caught supporting the wonderful Black Moutain at the Scala in King's Cross last spring. He strolled onstage with only a well-weathered guitar and a loop pedal and proceeded to bewitch everyone into silence with his fragile and haunting Americana country-folk. As an acoustic singer/songwriter myself, I was immediately bowled over by his music and voice and he showed me another way to approach the form. He recently gathered together a band and headed across the Atlantic for a tour, stopping at the Engine Room to play in front of a rapturous crowd of which I was a priveleged member. The promoter took to the stage and introduced him, saying "Well... Phosphorescent, what can I say? If anyone wants me I'll be slumped in the corner of the room crying." Please do watch this clip I filmed of the full band rendition of "A Picture of Our Torn Up Praise", a beautiful fucking song if ever I heard one.



I noticed recently that my friends over in Southsea had booked a folk-punk crew called Defiance, Ohio to play at the Fawcett and that the band were heading over to the Cowley Club the very next night. The Cowley Club is a brilliant institution - the base for a radical community who put on shows across many genres and host forums and discussions on a wide range of causes that I won't try to abbreviate. Just check them out. Even if you're not into the politics, they have fucking good beer and tea. Anyway, I decided that I should look into some upcoming gigs there and discovered a Swedish hardcore band called Grace Will Fall. They played tonight and I went along, expecting a big crowd but presented with an empty venue for the entire evening. Well, all I can say is it's everyone else's problem because they missed a fucking excellent band, and a prime example of the kind of modern and invigorating European hardcore punk I could spend years trying to discover. This kind of stuff kicks the shit out of so much music, really. Imagine them playing a gig with Attack! Vipers! or early period Mínus. It would be so good I'd probably have to re-align my life afterwards.

But the aim of this post was to say that after the show, these very friendly Swedish dudes hung out with us and drank beers and talked to us about their tour so far. The singer was flying straight to Portugal to record a famous local crust punk band's album, and one of the other guys was going straight to his brother's wedding. We told them that the next time they come over to the UK (which they hope will be early next year), we would hook them up with our promoter friends in Portsmouth and Southampton and High Wycombe, because we know they would be perfect for these shows. And this, to me, was another example of the deconstruction of the business end of music making, even at the smallest level, where musician and audience are levelled to a healthy and altrusitic platform and there's no place for bullshit or division. I bought their album, and it's fucking awesome. I'm listening to it for the third time in a row while I type this.

I suppose I have no real point to all this except to say that if you love music, go out and find it at your own level because there's no player that won't appreciate that or feel encouraged to press on, challenge themselves and contribute to the worldwide resource of artistry and creation. I feel like I want to shout it from the rooftops, which is probably a good sign that I should go to bed pretty soon anyway.