Gig review and interview: Calva Louise speak our language at The Bodega

“That’s why I love heavy music because a therapist is too expensive.” Jess Allanic’s chuckle is gilded with genuineness; occupying her hands with a broken drum clamp that entered the conversation ten minutes prior, and twenty minutes before doors open, is an ironic motif for a band emblazoned by their DIY ethos.

“Screaming and letting it all out makes me a happier person. I don’t consider myself a singer, just someone who is grateful to do something I love, and for bandmates who I love. To be happy, because we are happy!”

Happiness which bounces around this echo chamber known as The Bodega: Calva Louise are speaking their own language, one embodied by syncopated snare beats and a raucous tongue, and the people are listening. With a near sold-out tour kicking off in Nottingham, the electronica rock band have already crafted their signature soundscape of brash music without foregoing catchy hooks. 

Since they first headlined the venue last year, the trio have switched out their initial indie branding for a heavier touch. Debuting latest singles Under The Skin and La Corriente – in the latter Allanic expressing her reluctance to play live for fear that “no one would get it, but I think you’ll get the feeling without understanding the words” – tonight is a glimpse into the potential that Calva Louise have of shredding up these boundaries like they’re nothing more than guitar strings.

“When we came to England, only one of us could speak English.” Bassist Alizon Taho explains the fusion of these System of a Down enthusiasts with their plinky, high octave tunes, and the confusion this entailed. “Never mind the fact that we didn’t know anyone in the music industry, but I couldn’t understand anything that Ben said at all! I couldn’t understand my own bandmate, so I'd just smile and wave at him until my English improved.”

Drummer Ben Parker met the pair when they moved to London to pursue a music career and later joined in their endeavours, adding, “I’d introduce myself and they’d ask, ‘Bin? Like rubbish bin?’ No, it’s Ben. Very confusing, hard times in the beginning.”

Hailing from Venezuela, France, and New Zealand individually, the group reflect upon their cultural camaraderie with songs such as Third Class Citizen: a boiling pot of swirling keyboards and screaming vocals of being an outsider, yet that couldn’t be any further from the truth in this venue tonight. The crowd is malleable to the band’s melodies.

Touring with good friend Bobby Wolfgang, they have redefined the palette of criticism into a community that is just as plosive as their riffs, if our constant moshing-so-hard-we-might-as-well-be-polishing-the-floor is anything to go by.

“We’ve all emigrated at least once in our lives and we thought that would be the biggest obstacle for us. Everything creatively is fun; the problem is the unnecessary pressure,” says Jess, who is ardent in their vision for the band. 

Inducing the audience within this apocalyptic world of sci-fi VFX (in an arguably apocalyptic world where Kerrang TV! has shut down) is just as important as the music. Regardless if you’re a fan of the sound, you’ve got to give credit where it’s due for the sheer dedication in sophisticating their storytelling.

“I always wanted to work with videographers and directors, but people didn’t want to work with us because we were nobodies. We’re lucky to live in a day and age where we have YouTube.”

Allanic herself creates all the accompanying music videos for the songs having taught herself Blender over lockdown, while Taho is the mastermind behind the sliding keyboard stand. 

“Alizon was like ‘You want a keyboard on stage? Don’t worry, hold my hammer!’ and he made it in Bobby’s dad’s garage and built the thing with skateboard bearings!

“All that we do was by necessity and less by want, but it became a want because we didn’t have anyone else to do it, the necessity was so strong.”

Ben cements the point further, now given up on fixing his drum clamp, saying, “We’re trying to offer something different, to push ourselves and the vision. How can we do the piano thing? How can we get the lights to look like that? How can we just do better with our little resources, and that's where the DIY comes in.”

“Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s great,” Alizon adds. “We're doing things now that we were only dreaming of doing years ago. Experiencing these things we never imagined, and we do want to have money to do it and enough to do it, but what else do some people want from us, you know?”

The band explains that between working their own jobs, filming music videos (and don’t forget sourcing the costumes; the props; writing a script with eleven scenes – sorry, twelve scenes, including a flashback – you’ve got your actors; editing the entire shoot. “Netflix, call us!” Ben half-jokes), and touring countries to get their name out there, the entire year feels like one big tour rather than the tour itself being a featured chapter.

“We don’t care about numbers. We just care about the music, getting better at what we’re doing, and it is working!” Jess impassions the conversation with gratefulness. "It’s not perfect and people were very confused when we started. It’s going to be confusing: I'm from f**king Venezuela, like growing up was confusing to me. We’ve all come a long way from our home countries, so we don’t need to be understood, but I know what we’re saying in the music – they get it. People get us. That's what we’re doing the music for: us, and them. We see the differences, like the tour we did in the US and how many Latin people came to our show. It’s incredible!”

What’s more incredible is the energy in this room is tangible, and it truly feels like you’re experiencing a pivotal moment in the band’s history. You could call them oportunistas, for their ambitiously appreciative rendition of every song is a reiteration that Calva Louise are a live band. Living and breathing proof that if you build it – lighting rigs and spaceships and all – they will come.

“It's good we were very naïve at the start because we weren’t prepared for an adventure,” Jess recalls, eyes full of mirth and wonder for the next chapter. “It’s very good that we thought it was possible. It's not very but it can be, so it is.”

Calva Louise performed at The Bodega on 4th July 2024, with support from Bobby Wolfgang and Sugarstone.

@calvalouise