Blog — Page 238 of 280

The Damned
Metro Theatre
Sydney, AU
March 10, 2017

Musically and artistically, The Damned has always been one of the most accomplished and versatile forefathers of punk and alumni of the class of 1976, both shaping and enriching the formula that was coined by The Clash and Sex Pistols with their own gothic, pop and psychedelic twists.

40 years after The Damned’s inception, the band is far from a nostalgia act and tonight’s tight, frantic and brawny set is testament to the band’s legacy, relevance and niche they have carved out for themselves.

The sole constant member of the operation, vaudevillian Dave Vanian, has aged graciously, which is not a very common occurrence among Goth royalty, still appearing formally dressed yet less heavy on the make up and melodramatic cabaret, and still effortlessly commanding the loyal crowd with one of the smoothest crooning voices in rock.
Captain Sensible with his trademark tartan bondage pants, denim vest, sunglasses and adorned with his signature red beret caters to the other end of the spectrum, propelling the irresistible adrenalin rush that is The Damned forward.

The Damned is an institution.

With a back catalogue that is smothered with a plethora of genre defining hits, Captain Sensible and comrades meandered through the different phases of their oeuvre from the amphetamine addled jittery, sinister punk with acid prog-rock of the 1980s (from their Strawberries, Phantasmagoria and Anything albums), with which they survived the demise of the first wave of English punk rock, to their more straight forward, energetic iconic numbers from their classic early emissions Damned Damned Damned and Machine Gun Etiquette albums.

If you get a chance, make sure to witness one of the truly great and often overlooked groups of the 1970s punk and early 1980s proto-Goth eras that is still brimming with deadpan cool.

They do not make them like that anymore.

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Photos by T

Kasabian
Sydney Opera House
Sydney, AU
March 8, 2017

Kasabian from Leicester, UK are disciples of the Angel of the North, the contemporary landmark of North East England and are quintessentially the embodiment of ladcore, channeling equal parts of Primal Scream, Stone Roses and Oasis-esque snotty attitude in such a refined manner that tin their 20 year existence they have become one of England’s biggest draws.

Now, how does one define “ladcore”?

Let’s see…an energetic danceable mix of electronica supported big rock mélange, borderline religious enthusiasm for the local football club, amps turned to 11 with the lager drenched audience rambunctiously bellowing along every word, cocky Northern England charm and a boisterous elemental approach to rock star bravado courtesy of frontman Tom Meighan.

Following in the footsteps of The Stone Roses’ mode of holding court at Sydney Opera House, “theatre in the Round” was the stage setup tonight, which became increasingly popular in the late 1960s in the UK and Europe, with initially the format proving popular in smaller venues and studio spaces.

It offered the sold out crowd a closer intimacy with the Kasabians and it put the audience in direct view of each other. 
A 360 degree sight line meant that large scenery, projections and backdrops were out of the question, which played to Kasabian’s forte as an engaging, charismatic and tight live band: Add vintage Stone Roses, electronically enhanced percussion cum organ and occasional brass inclusion, catchy and energetic tunes with Serge Pizzorno belting out a the occasional down tempo tune, punctuating the loud anthemic show with vocally ambitious mellowed out space age moments, including an interesting interpretation of Daft Punk’s “Around the world” mashed up with their track “Eeez-eh”.

Ten years after first setting a foot on terra australis Kasabian has not forfeited any of its grit and vigor, but has become more refined and seasoned in how they orchestrate their live incarnations and elicit crowd responses at will.

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Photos by KAVV

Pixies

Hordern Pavilion

Sydney, AU

March 7, 2017

The Pixies have always appeared to be an odd band to me, which admittedly was part of the appeal: The pop sensibility, lack of political ideology, counterintuitive songwriting structure, stoic rhythms, quirky hooks and Black Francis’ rollercoaster vocal exercises paired with a faible for surrealism was what formed the basis of the zany character, unpredictability, charm and unorthodox personality of the band.

A band that has created a lane for a myriad of epigones.

With the lion’s share of the predominantly older audience tonight, the Pixies’ oeuvre would be tied to memories growing up and reliving their youth – and they reveled in it – whereas younger attendants would have probably only heard of them because of the haunting lament “Where is my mind”, which concluded the movie Fight Club and came out more than five years after the Pixies had officially called it quits the first time around.

No matter which camp you count yourself to, the 2017 incarnation proved that the Pixies remain a unique band that presented itself in fine form. Devoid of histrionics, laconic, understated and taciturn in presentation, bathed in shadows and smoke they did not waste time with banter and instead focused on their craft, i.e. steamrolling, serenading and seducing the nearly sold out venue.

Paz Lenchantin has taken the place of the former and founder member Kim Deal and has established herself as a well-calibrated, soft-voiced counterpart to both Francis’ barks, howls and screams and Joey Santiago’s schrecklich schöne dissonant riffage.

It can be argued if their newer, more recent emissions hold up compared to their classic, vintage tunes but it does not hold the band from presenting them early on in their set.  It can also be argued that a more polished and mature incarnation of a band whose laurels rest on manic energy goes at the expense of diluting the DNA fans love them for, however, the set had moments where older and rawer qualities shone through, which made for a solid and powerful performance.

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Photos by KAVV

Last week when a friend, and occasional love interest, suggested we check out the Toronto Symphony Orchestra for one of our is this a date or is this not a date meet ups, I felt my stomach drop a little bit. To me the symphony has always seemed hopelessly adult. It was the cultural equivalent of knowing how to talk about wine or owning an expensive rug. The symphony was something for other people. People who had jobs with dental plans or would one day be able to afford a house. When I expressed my hesitation, the friend let me know about the program the TSO has running this season.

Owen Pallett, the indie rock musician behind the ethereal string music of Final Fantasy, has curated the New Creations Festival, bringing together the best in new music to team up with the Symphony to make new work. The festival also highlights new compositions by younger artists. That weekend the TSO was teaming up with indigenous throat singer Tanya Tagaq, who first caught my attention for her collaborations with hardcore punk band Fucked Up. Initially listening to Tagaq’s work – a style I was completely unfamiliar with – required a bit of time to get my head around, but the raw emotionality of her music eventually won me over. I was curious to see how that rawness transferred to a setting where people wear suits and dresses and tickets can cost more than a day’s wage.

One of the cool things that the New Creations Festival has set up is a number of ten-dollar tickets. The tickets allow people with out the same disposable income as your average symphony event a chance to check out the work, and that cheap price is crucial for people with trepidations about checking out a performance. While I entered Roy Thompson Hall that night with ta lot of prejudices, I was genuinely stoked that the company was making an effort to be inclusive of both new creators and new audiences. It’s a scheme that I wish a lot of other arts companies would copy.

Tagaq was the third act that night. For the duration of her performance she improvised overtop of the TSO in a combinations of sounds unlike anything else I had ever heard. The composition entitled Qiksaaktuq played with the highs and lows of the singers range. For her part Tagaq was able to fill the pace between the lightness and curiousity of the ocrestra with sounds that went from deeply guttural to impossibly high notes It was a beautiful evening and not at all what I was expecting, or had thought of when someone says the word symphony.


The New Creations Festival continues this week and next.

Graham Isador is a writer living in Toronto. @presgang

Photo credit:  Credit: Jag Gundu.

T2 Trainspotting
Now at cinemas

Making a great movie is difficult. Standing out against the myriad of mediocre big budget offerings is no mean feat. Stars need to align. Lightening is to be caught in a bottle. Once accomplished, the sequel needs to be even more original while lacking the advantage of introducing the characters and their relationships. Everybody knows Spud, Sick Boy, Renton, Tommy and Begbie. Focus is on the story and most films narratives just do not lend themselves well to a sequel or prequel. The budget for the sequel might be higher but it also buys time all the rope one needs to hang oneself with.

It’s been 21 first years since the black comedy drama Trainspotting, based around a couple of heroin addicts from Edinborough made a global impact. An impact of the scale that made one question if art was imitating life or the other way around, with its stylishly nihilist heroin chic becoming part of mid-90ies DNA of pop culture. Returning for a sequel was always a daunting task.

T 2 is respectful of its original incarnation. It’s the reunification of Director Danny Boyle and Ewan Mc Gregor, with whom after Trainspotting, A Life Less Ordinary and Shallow Grave, he fell out with, as Gregor was supposed to be the lead in Boyle’s The Beach, which was eventually given to Leonardo diCaprio.

While there is an undercurrent of regret and fear, T 2 is an epic, choppy yet at the same time also sadder, slower tour de force – a tour de force that is at times a bit longwinded, tinged with sentimental nostalgia and both aurally and visually self-referential throughout, yet one that has its surprises and twists with the comic flaws and antics of the main protagonists still intact and being a main ingredient.

It is solidly based on the foundation of its forerunner, which would make it hard to enjoy for anybody not familiar with the original, yet manages to not tarnish the legacy, which is largely due to Boyle’s chops as a great filmmaker: T 2 lives from the way the story is told more than from the story itself.

The movie got older with its audience, with them being able to relate to the mid-life crisis Renton is going through. There are numerous rhythmic parallels drawn by Boyle between Renton’s life behind the façade of having it together and his life 21 years ago, for which, again, familiarity with the original is an absolute necessity.

It can be a balance act to stay true to the spirit of an original while acknowledging the changes over two decades. Boyle acknowledges to some extent, yet deliberately chooses to not comment on current developments in the United Kingdom, which feels a tad like a missed opportunity.

T2 is a reprise.

Boyle manages to encapsulate the futility of endeavouring to relive an idealized version of the past while the sobering reflection of eroding ambition and aging starts to sink in. A faithful elaboration of the original, recommendable for anyone who likes the original. Choose acceptance.