MADE IN WHITBY

WHITBY FRIENDSHIP ROWING CLUB

PICTURES BY SHEPTON (and there's a lovely slideshow at the end)


07: 08: 15

All the bands playing at this gig have been reviewed lovingly on this blog in the past, so rather than a forensic examination of their songcraft and sonic qualities, this review is more of a paean to the joys of local gig going from a personal point of view. Expect name dropping and pointless detail.

.....

Dave, Jason and Rob: The John Does

Today was the day my mate from Saltburn, Gavin Parry, would be launched headlong into the Whitby local music scene. I got a bit of a flyer from work, so as soon as Gavin arrived bearing gifts of bottled beers and a book of Scottish folklore, we set off walking into town. After some deliberation about the climate and whether it would be chilly on the walk home, we plumped for taking jackets.

I'd had no tea, so a quick visit to the chippy on Silver Street ensued. It wasn't particularly busy, and I only ordered chips and peas open, yet the lady who took my order wrote it meticulously down on a bit of paper, passed it to the server at the side of her, who looked at it, put it with some similar bits of paper and then prepared the chips and peas. Were these two not on speaking terms I wondered, or was it just an over-elaborate ritual that's been carried on since time immemorial, like the Penny Hedge?

Outside the Friendship Club, Tom, Chris Corner, Emma and Rich Locker and various others were taking in the night air and some nicotine. Emma and Rich knew Gavin from his blog posts and other internet communications, so they could now put a face to the words and pictures. Everyone got on splendidly, as like minded people usually do.

Emma wore a dress with a volume knob that went up to eleven!

.....

Emily, Keeley and Steve: Genetix UK

Even though we got there as soon as we could, we still sadly missed The John Does. In his review of
the Rifle Club gig on the 24th of July, Jon Horne made two recommendations: Firstly gigs with a number of bands should employ a compere, more about that later. Secondly seven o'clock is too early to start, and this gig did start at seven, so consequently we arrived halfway through the second band's set.

The second band was Genetix UK, and as usual they radiated joy and energy via punky pop and unpretentious directness. Gav was impressed as we purchased drinks and settled down for more fun. It's a good job we brought our jackets, because it was bloody freezing on those chairs. It did warm up later though, luckily.

Rob Savage and Jason from The Jon Does both seperately explained how good the sound was tonight, and how much sweeter it sounded than the previous gig at The Starms (which I thought was great anyway), and I was sad to have missed them. Next time let's hope they're placed further up the running order and get a fair crack of the whip.

.....

Seeing Shepton with a huge and very technical camera round his neck seemed like an opportunity not to be sniffed at, so I asked if any of his pictures could be donated to Whitby Popwatch in the interest of documenting the event. He agreed, and the fruits of his labours are here on this blog page for all to see.

As if that wasn't enough, Shepton also compered for the evening. Having an MC makes a huge difference because it adds structure, also introducing each band is always helpful, after all not everyone knows who's who. Consequently there were no major gaps between acts and the whole thing flowed relatively smoothly, like the Esk passing the Gasworks at high tide on a Spring afternoon.

Niamh, George and ?: Nocturnal Dictionary

Nocturnal Dictionary had yet another line-up. It seems only singer George and drummer Niamh (when she hasn't got a broken hand) are constant members. This time a violinist and a French horn player were drafted in. The sound is fragile, spacey and always compelling. TFT and John Doe's drummer Alan Boyes for one was impressed by Niamh's delicate, well timed stick and brush work.

It's amazing who turns up to these events. I chatted with Andy Brown who helped us with the financial headache of getting my parents into Peregrine House last year. Author Chris Firth was there with his mate, the chap who busks sea shanties with a scary dancing doll on a stick too.

Tantalisingly Chris Firth is organising an electronic noise/music/drone/bleep free-for-all at the Cranberry Swamp cafe on Skinner Street shortly, probably later this month, although that isn't set in stone. Anyone with anything that makes a noise of some sort is welcome I think, as well as intrigued listeners. Stay tuned for further details as they emerge.

.....

Marc and Rick: Moonwreck

Moonwreck took a few songs to get into their stride, and then they took off. The frequencies probably
needed to accumulate one on top of the other, like layer cake, like strata. Anyway Gavin and I looked after Emma's beautiful, pink handbag while she went to the powder room, or whatever. We bought more beer. We had a chat to Steve Scott of Genetix UK, and by now the room was a bit warmer. As the great Phil Collins once said, no jacket required.

The Friendship is a nice, convenient venue, with lots of chairs and tables, and at £3 for five bands no one could complain that they weren't getting their money's worth. We all got stylish Made In Whitby wristbands from the members of Moonwreck manning the door, which meant going out for fresh air and then coming back in was no problem. Nicely thought through.

.....

Alan, Tom and Chris: Ten Foot Tom and The Leprosy Crooks

Up to now all the acts played in front of floor length curtains decorated with pictures of shells, but Ten Foot Tom threw the curtains open and let the lights of night time Whitby sparkle through the window. Nice touch. I must admit, I thought Tom might be a tiny bit drunk and unable to hit the heights tonight, but I'm glad to say I was proved wrong. A fantastic set to end a top evening's entertainment, and this time Tom's guitar survived relatively unscathed.

Gavin, Chris Corner and myself wandered home up Upgang lane. A car pulled up with Keeley from Genetix UK and her dog ensconced within. She offered Chris and his bass guitar a lift home, but he politely decided to accompany us. At Popwatch HQ we drank a good quantity of tea, formulated plans for upcoming projects and played some proper vinyl records. Can't remember which ones though. A great end to one of those wonderful nights that just seem to come together out of nothing.

Thanks to everyone involved.

MADE IN WHITBY: 07: 08: 15 AT THE FRIENDSHIP CLUB

Moonwreck
Ten Foot Tom and The Leprosy Crooks
Nocturnal Dictionary
Genetix UK
The John Does

That's all your favourite bands under one roof for £3

That's 60p a band

Approximately the price of a Twix bar (prices may vary depending on which retail facility you purchase from)

CHAMOMILE RECORDS SHOWCASE

WHITBY RIFLE CLUB

24: 07: 15

WORDS AND PICTURES BY JON HORNE

Seven o’clock. Seven o’clock?! In my day, that was lunchtime.

If I were Tom Found I’d be furious. Actually I’d be delighted because then I’d be skinny, young, and talented - but I’d still be pissed off at having to play to a mostly empty room because no one arrives at a gig at seven o’clock.

Jumper-clad and unhappy, Tom Found’s swooping melodies and impressionistic lyrics were swamped by his own rudimentary and ill-mixed guitar. Given the right support - decent sound and perhaps a band - he will be a compelling performer in the future. On the evidence of demos, he has a good, idiosyncratic voice with a warble resembling a more grounded Marc Bolan, and the rare ability to write songs that keep your interest as they ramble intriguingly. The last song, In The Aeroplane Over The Sea was trippy in the literal sense, and I look forward one day to hearing it, as opposed to trying to make it out through murky sound.

.....

Figmennt are a band who like to hide their tunes under a duvet of white noise. Indistinct snatches of lyric (“Honesty these days never ends,” or was it “pleurisy”?) appear from behind tribal drums and cleverly-played feedback counter-melodies. Songs are reminiscent of the Teenage Fanclub, but the sound is all My Bloody Valentine. The slow interlude Secrets is interestingly creepy before it disappears under yet more white noise - from whence tunes emerge once more. Credit must go to the guitarist who kept the tunes coming every time they got buried under the wash of random sound.

The best song of the short set was She’s In My Head, with its Stone Roses feel and don’t-touch-the-brown-acid lyric. I wasn’t wearing my best shoes, so why would I want to gaze at them? I’d like to hear this group again though, especially if they decide to follow their more melodic instincts.

.....

Ten Foot Tom and the Leprosy Crooks need no introduction, which is a good job because no one got an introduction at this gig. Tom Found told me who Figmennt were, I’ve known Ten Foot Tom for ages, the Warhol Superstars had to be who they were, what with the name and the hair, and that left Nocturnal Dictionary by a process of elimination. Soundchecks were carried out before each set, so no one knew whether a band was actually starting. Where was the MC? Nor was there a table with CDs. There were no leaflets or little business cards for you to stick in the slot in your mobile phone case and later to pull out absent-mindedly whilst trying to pay for petrol. This was a showcase for local talent in which everyone frantically avoided showcasing anything.

I was going to do that bit at the end. I probably will again, just to ram the point home.

Ten Foot Tom and band were in fine form. Eschewing a soundcheck, levels were turned to approximate, and the unmistakeable riff of Saturday Night kicked off a rollicking set. Some of the band’s endearing randomness has been lost since the departure of guitarist Kyle - Tom can’t throw himself around the stage when he’s covering all the guitar parts - but it has been replaced by an in-your-face commitment to the material that reminds me of Wilko Johnson. Gone too are the between-song retunings and detunings, leaving a punk-blues half-hour of relentless energy, with a busy rhythm section providing bedrock for unhinged vocals and cheese-slicer guitar.

Old favourites Liar and 1000 Wolves cut through the messy sound to connect with a crowd that was filing in after between-set cigarettes; both songs about ‘escaping’ small-town pettiness (the latter an escape to death row, the former to hell itself because “there’s nothing going on in heaven”. Cheery stuff.)

.....

After wearying delays, Warhol Superstars emerged with a hell of a name to live up to. I’ll come to the sound in a minute, but give them their due, they look really good. The singer wears a hooped jumper and hides curly hair under a hat that makes him look like a cross between Dennis The Menace and See-You-Jimmy. He is backed by a corkscrew-haired grin in a red jacket and a flailing drummer who was probably great - he had the look of someone who knew what he was doing - if only anyone could have heard him over the ridiculously loud bass.

This band might one day get it together to the extent that they play a set that is as much fun to listen to as it must be to play. They mix good originals with a leaning toward the Libertines with substandard covers - Metal Guru, Boys Don’t Cry, which if they played them properly would be great. Really, it was impossible to hear anything over the bass, so forgive the negativity, but it got on my nerves.

The best song, by a mile, was apparently a new one, Spider, introduced promisingly with “if you don’t like it, fuck off.” Don’t know what it was about - the bass and all that - maybe spiders. Anyway it lived up to the snotty introduction and for three minutes the band lived up to their name. More of this please.

   .....

Nocturnal Dictionary took to the stage in a changed format with the bass-player on drums and a fill-in on bass after the drummer broke her hand - which makes it all the more impressive that they played a coherent, entertaining set that lifted an appreciative audience from its drunken dozing. By now, well over three hours of the concert had gone by, and you wouldn’t expect the crowd to be woken up by twisty art-rock with tempo changes and saxophone solos. Nonetheless that is what happened. Volcano and the clappy instrumental Tate Hill were greeted with stifled cheers. The latter is becoming a little local classic, the sort of tune that the audience are going to remember when they’re recalling bands they used to go and see. A new song, Devil’s Letters, was excellent, a rare foray into simplicity.

The over-riding impression is of a band who have not only the ability to play anything they want to, but the imagination to use that ability and not just show it off. During technical problems, they are happy to improvise - the singer/guitarist knocked off a serviceable Sunshine Of Your Love while the sax player wrestled with microphones - and they have no problem switching from a summery rocksteady tune with bible-referencing lyrics to something slow and sleazy, to a jerky, artsy song about “a door off its hinges - it floats away...”

If you haven’t heard this band, the closest reference points are probably Vampire Weekend and Sparks, to name two groups thirty years apart. However their main inspiration comes from their own imagination, and that is a rare thing in pop music.

 .....

Wounded drummer dances to her own band shock

This was a good gig, no doubt, and was much enjoyed. It could have been something great though. I’ve lived here long enough to know that to want to put on a show is deeply uncool. But there is a lot of talent about at the moment, a lot of people around the same age - 18, 19 - who are having a burst of creativity. It needs showcasing properly - posters, CDs, t-shirts, not just tweets and blog entries. It needs putting into a show, one that lasts two hours, not four and a half, with the same amount of songs - no soundchecks, much reduced mucking around between sets, and find some local smartarse to introduce the bands. Then it’ll be great.