Hunting Helen
While admittedly not as dangerous a pastime as say, mountain climbing or swimming with sharks, gig going does have its own inherent set of perils. Chief among them is the ever present danger of some sweaty, drunken arse biscuit telling boring anecdotes about how many times they've seen the band, and/or bellowing mangled lyrics into your ears while spilling lager on your shoes. A close second is seeing a support act so bad that your only recourse is to prod something, anything, into your ears in the hope of causing semi-permanent deafness. The final peril is seeing a headline act who decide to either mainly do cover versions or embark on a track-by-track run through of their experimental third album, steadfastly refusing to play any of the songs that made you fall in love with them in the first place.
Having seen The Gorgeous Chans perform barnstorming sets at last year's Dot to Dot and Splendour, I was hopeful that cover versions would be minimal and a new prog-jazzdisco direction is, at least, a couple of years away. As for drunken idiots and terrible support bands, well, let's see shall we…
With snippets of tunes heard only in quarter volume segments from out on the street, due to the sizable, seemingly unmoving Bodega queue, Hunting Helen on first listen at least appeared to be creators of rather lovely, melodic indie fare. Half heard sounds can be deceiving though, as up close and personal, the band came over all a bit Guns and Roses for their last two songs. Out went acoustic guitar based Walter Softy indie pop. In comes splendidly raucous wah wah pedal, spunky axe mayhem.
I almost had to rub my eyes to make sure I hadn’t wandered into the 'Hell Hath No Fury' metal-a-thon that was going on at The Old Angel, such was the disconnect between the clean cut chaps on stage and the wonderfully devilish din they were creating. At their next gig, Hunting Helen should burn their acoustic guitar on stage, as a sacrifice to the Gods of noise and carry on with the heavier musical direction. Seriously.
The mental disconnect between the clean cut chaps on stage and the wonderfully devilish din being created was such that, for a moment, a seed of doubt was planted about whether they were playing the correct venue. Should they have actually been at the 'Hell Hath No Fury' metal-a-thon going on around the corner at The Old Angel? At their next gig, Hunting Helen should burn their acoustic guitar on stage, as a sacrifice to the Gods of noise and carry on with this heavier musical direction. Seriously.
Aged only seventeen, Frankie Rudolf is clearly an extraordinarily talented young fella, as demonstrated with his first song of the night, Heart On Fire. Sounding like a lost Ray LaMontagne classic, seldom have I heard such mature, assured song writing from someone not even old enough to sup a weak lager shandy.
It's Frankie's youth though, combined with his chosen means of musical expression that means that muso idiots like me struggle to take him seriously (for now, at least). I've always thought it takes a certain gravitas that only age brings to make strummed tales of heartache, woe and a life lived hard, come alive. Compared with musicians like ex-Creation Records legend Ken Popple - who performed a stunning acoustic set at The Maze a few weeks prior - Frankie came across as own brand grape juice rather than vintage chardonnay. This will change in time, and I for one will be watching his career very closely. One for the future, me thinks.
With mad skills, and cojones as big as coconuts, Suspect Alibi are one of those rare bands who can squeeze more styles and genres into every song than should be humanly possible, meaning their set was a frenzied whirlwind of what-the-fuck.
Ranging from acid jazz heroes Corduroy mated with long forgotten eighties BBC sitcom theme tunes, to crunchy heavy metal swirled with Vampire Weekend, the only major misstep in their entire performance was a ropey cover version of Rhianna’s What's My Name. Thankfully though, the last song of the set redeemed this sin, being as it was a howling cacophony of Casio keyboards, mental drums and squiggly guitars, which to these ears sounded like John Shuttleworth collaborating with McFly, while all concerned are on an acid trip comedown. So, possibly a bit low on original material and as raw as a smacked bottom, Suspect Alibi are nevertheless a barrel full of spangley, mental pop thrills.
The Gorgeous Chans - a tight fit
With a band membership that rivals some smaller European member states, it's a wonder The Gorgeous Chans actually fitted on The Bodega’s small, but perfectly formed, stage. They did though, just. The first track the evening, Run As Fast As You Can encapsulated the whole joyous, life affirming nature of The Gorgeous Chans. A thrilling piece of music that combines 21st century pop, intricate, seemingly effortless musicianship and a jangly heart and soul that The Bhundu Boys would have been proud to have written.
Swiss John and a memorable San Sebastian tread similar sublime waters; and the hairs-on-back-of-neck-lifting By The Highway, whose clash of guitars and brass instruments could make grown men cry, propelled The Gorgeous Chans ever more skyward. Even a cover of Talking Heads This Must Be The Place didn’t detract from a performance fizzing with mucho energy and ideas.
And then there was Night in Graceland. When your heart threatens to leap out of your chest and you breathe a little deeper, while all the while grinning like a mental, you know the music you're listening to is affecting your very soul. That’s what Night In Graceland did, not just to me, but also the other 250 people assembled. A walkabout into the crowd by various band members during the song only made the moment even more memorably special.
I'm confident that if Chief Brody from Jaws was there to bear witness to the events, he'd mutter, "you’re going to need a bigger stage", not just because The Gorgeous Chans are eight in number, but because they're going to be really famous. Yes, they really are that good.
So with minimal drunken bellendery, some pretty good support acts and a headline performance that was as-near-as-damn-it a stone cold classic as I've ever seen, I'd say that the night was really rather wonderful.
If only every gig could be this outstanding and peril free...
The Gorgeous Chans and support played at The Bodega on Sunday 13 April 2014.
The Gorgeous Chans on SoundCloud
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