The Right Connections

Indietracks Festival, Midland Butterly Railway nr. Ripley, Derbyshire, July 24-26 2009.

This was Parallax View's first visit to Indietracks, now in its third year of bringing the best of indiepop to the grounds of a vintage railway station at Midland Railway, Butterly, near Ripley in Derbyshire. It was a sign of the weekend to come that the person we end up sharing a taxi with from Alfreton train station was Ian who runs the How Does If Feel To Be Loved? disco in the marquee at the event. Everything, and indeed, everyone, seemed to be connected.

Even, to some degree, our good selves, as we make re-acquaintance with Dunc from The Autumn Store and badge-bestowing Simon of Sweeping The Nation fame in fairly quick order on entering the grounds, and bump into Liz from The School not long after. And who should we be following on our way to the bar but the unmistakeable derrieres of the girls from Au Revoir Simone? It was very much that kind of festival.

Friday night's fare was entirely on the outdoor stage, with the synths of Modular washing over us pleasantly before Rosay Pipette (hitherto to be referred to, of course, as Rose Elinor Dougall) strutted her new solo stuff to mostly impressive effect. There wasn't too much on show that screamed out 'hit record' but it was all engaging enough to foster the belief that if anyone can sell Stereolab-lite to the masses it's RED.

While waiting for ARS to get into gear, we managed to catch a few words with Alice Hubley from Arthur and Martha as she chatted to Dunc, consoling her on the rather snide NME review of A&M's new album which was excessively sniping with regards to her own vocal contributions. Heads turned immediately with the arrival of Au Revoir Simone, who put on a confident and mesmering show featuring the best from their three albums. There are those that bemoan their lack of stagecraft but with presence like theirs craft is made redundant and superflous, and latest album 'Still Night, Still Light' is arguably their most consistent disc to date.

Thus followed some dancing with Dunc, his gf Debbie, and the rest of the Autumn Store posse in the Lipstick On Your Collar! disco, during which Dead Kenny may or may not have been jumping up and down rather rigorously to The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart's 'Young Adult Friction' chanting 'don't check me out! don't check me out!' to anyone without an option but to listen. All in all, was a Good Friday, if not THE Good Friday, if you see what we mean.

Saturday sees our bleary blogging eyes facing the serious business of catching as many indiepop acts as possible while still remembering to cover the basics of eating, drinking and breathing. We catch the sun somewhat while waiting for Sucrette, who make up for their late appearance with some top-notch breathy J-Pop which would appeal in particular to fans of Annie's 'Anniemal'. We were less seduced by Tender Trap, whose harmonies only really tugged at our heartstrings during their newest number, but at least that means they're heading in the right direction. Also failed to be engaged by Friends on the Indoor Stage (otherwise known as The Loco Shed), while One Happy Island won us over with the sheer persistence of their energy and charm during their set in the same arena.



Danish troubadour Labrador was late finding the festival but provided soothing electro-folk to calm our savage breasts on a hot Saturday evening in The Church (a case of Pew! What A Scorcher! anyone?). This proved the calm before the storm of The Specific Heats at the same location, whose reverb mechanism blew up during the first song, amongst other technical mishaps, which did nothing but add to the feeling that this was one of the festival landmark events, with scorching surf guitar and sun-kissed melodies providing a perversely devilish good time in the 'sanctity' of The Church.

Some fresh air was certainly needed at that point, but a look at the long snaking queue of people waiting to see The Lovely Eggs suggested that we wouldn't be able to get back in a hurry. And so it proved, as we were left to paw at the Church window like poor little orphan boys on Christmas Day, to get a glimpse of the hotly-tipped popsters. From our disadvantaged vantage point, The Lovely Eggs looked and sounded un-beatable, before we whisked ourselves off to see The Frank And Walters, who were still playing mostly the same songs and (if memory serves us correctly) telling mostly the same jokes that they used to back in 1992. Pretty entertaining and endearing stuff, nevertheless.

We only really know one Speedmarket Avenue song, the pretty fantastic 'Way Better Now' so wasn't quite sure what to expect of the Stockholm collective. Perhaps the most surprising aspect was that the vocal duties were fairly evenly shared between the male and female singer, the latter's sheer blue tights certainly scorching themselves on our retinas. It was all rather lovely, much lovelier than the fact that the main toilets were in need of plumbing attention, which certainly challenged punters' temperaments in what was supposed to be the friendliest of festivals.

Our underpants tension was somewhat eased by the always comforting presence of Camera Obscura, with lead singer Tracyann Campbell looking never more glam as the band dispensed a crowd-pleasing set of gems like 'Let's Get Out Of This Country'; 'French Navy' and 'If Looks Could Kill', climaxing beautifully as usual with 'Razzle Dazzle Rose' as the sun set. Met back up with Dunc and Debbie at this stage who pass on the tidbit that Marisa from The Besties is about to do a debut solo set in the Marquee. Right on cue the lead singer from The Specific Heats then pops his head out of said tent and hollers to anything within earshot the very same headline news.

Although your bluffing blogger is aware of The Besties' cult status in indiepop circles, Marisa seems more recently and vividly familiar to us, until it clicks she played keys for The Specific Heats earlier. We just have time to congratulate The Specific Heats singer on his set (he's philosophical about the equipment blowing up as it's the last day of their European tour) before he was required to act as a human mic stand for the slightly embarrassed but genuinely endearing Marisa, who ran through some old Besties tunes and other stuff even though at least one of her keys wasn't working. The whole shebang had so much impromptu charm and bonhomie we swear if we were any more full of ourselves at this point we'd have had to empty ourselves out just for the pleasure of filling ourselves back up again.

This also served to fill the gap while (reputedly) Emmy The Great had to be rescued from some sort of motorway-related fiasco before her set at The Indoor Stage. Better late than never, as we always say here on Parallax View, and while we can't quite re-create the flush of love at first sight we initially felt for Emmy, it's a bold and entertaining show with an impressive cover of The Pixies' 'Where Is My Mind?' thrown into the mix for good measure. Outside, La Casa Azul are in turns bemusing and bewitching with an undeniably odd combination of pigeon English, dancepop and balladry, to a visual backdrop of Mario Brothers, 'virtual backing band' and other random bytes and bobs. It's hit and miss for our tastes, but there's no doubt his version of John Paul Young's 'Love Is In The Air' provides one of the truly joyously unifying moments of the festival weekend.

Night-time saw Ian's 'How Does It Feel To be Loved?' pop-disco ramming the Marquee to its rafters, so we had our hearts and feet stolen by Barcelona's Bonnie & Clyde in the Loco Shed instead. TPOBPAH's 'Young Adult Friction' again gets a showing, and thus also does our crap dancing in a session of hot, sweaty fun. Rumours of ex-NME journo Tim Jonze being on site to do a piece for The Guardian permeated the night air as the contented crowds dispersed.

Sunday morning started with a call from our friend Keef to say he's coming up for the day to catch up with the evening's headliners Teenage Fanclub. After watching the entrancing (but startlingly young) Bonne Idee in the Loco Shed, we meet up with Keef on the steam train where we're completely out of earshot of the drum-and-bass from The Manhattan Love Suicides announcing the band's split. We're back on solid ground in time for The School's afternoon slot on The Outdoor Stage, where Simon from The Loves does his best to steal the show from a stunning set of stellar choons new and old, with his drunken wit and repartee and blatant-lack-of-socks appeal, but it's the impression of a band truly starting to find its feet live that's the lingering impression.

It then began to rain, which probably suited Denmark's Northern Portrait as their efficient Scandinavian remodelling of The Smiths would suggest they're more than comfortable with all things Northern Miserabilism. Happily they're not short of decent tunes and the material seems grounded and heartfelt enough to resonate more deeply than mere pastiche, and they appeared to go down well with a visibly impressed Emma from Pocketbooks who was stood next to us throughout. We wished her well with her set later that day, to which she summarily dismissed us to the merchandise stand. Still, as Confucious might have said, better a girl who only brings her business head to the party than one who doesn't bring any head at all.

Was well and truly chucking it down by this time, but it didn't stop us from heading to see Lucky Soul on the Outdoor Stage to gawp at the singer in her short little mini-dress and to remark on how one of the LS geezers is indecently rocking the Blake Fielder-Civil look, as well as sway about a bit and tap our feet to their pretty fetching pop-soul sound. Meanwhile, it wasn't just the rain that saw people scampering into the merchandise tent, as there was a bit of a Talulah Gosh reunion going on, which was nice, even though we found ourselves distracted by congratulating Liz on her set and introducing Dunc and Simon to each other (the indiepop equivalent of Frost:Nixon, we're sure you'll agree).

Sunday became a bit of a rainy blur from this point on, catching 20 minutes of the always-entertaining The Smittens here and 20 minutes of Hong Kong In The 60s ambient pop there, and a set by the aforementioned Pocketbooks that became increasingly compelling as the show went on, and we're sure Emma (who sports a haircut that makes her look a bit like Helen Marnie from Ladytron) would thank us for pointing out that their excellent album 'Flight Paths' is available for retail and download from all the usual outlets, now.

What else? Ah yes, Stereo Total were something of a rowdy revelation, featuring an impromptu performance from Birmingham's very own David Leach on harmonising, and a vaguely riotous stage invasion providing a feelgood finale. One-man NZ act Disasteradio gurned his way gloriously through a frenetic set of electronic gloopy loopiness, keeping Keef's son Joe suitably fascinated throughout. Some fishcake and chips in Johnson's Cafe later, Art Brut are their usual entertaining selves, even though their rockstar shapes and boisterous, slightly shambolic wit does lose its novelty value after a while. Nice of them to namecheck MJ Hibbett, though.

Which just left us with the minor details of your hustling hack falling flat on his back on the wet grass and a mighty, mighty closing performance from Teenage Fanclub which included a couple of new songs (one was called 'The Falls', we think) and plenty of the best from what we sometimes forget is a splendidly impressive back catalogue. Not only is everything and everybody connected, but, as TFC remind us to a cavalcade of chiming guitars, Everything Flows.

Gig Review Ketchup

The Autumn Store Presents: Moofish Catfish/Waldo Jeffers/MJ Hibbert and the Validators, The Autumn Store, Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham, Saturday June 13 2009, 9pm.
The Thermals, 02 Academy 3, Birmingham, Monday June 22nd, 9.30pm.
The Warlocks/Wild Palms/Guile, The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Sunday July 19 2009,8pm.

You'd have to be nuts to miss an Autumn Store gathering, even though we've contrived to do just that more than we'd like, but the lure of catching some Moofish Catfish at the beginning of their UK tour proved strong enough bait on this occasion. Like a slightly poppier Liechtenstein, but with enough pirhana bite in the guitars to supply a crunchy base to their witty lyrics and soaring harmonies, they were a real find so catch 'em if you can. Also on the bill were local band Waldo Jeffers, whose set was a mixed bag, but the singer has a distinctive, velvety voice, and if they can fix a matching musical voice in terms of a distinct direction they certainly have plenty potential. Headlining were London's MJ Hibbert And The Validators, whose wry, lo-fi take on modern pop culture provided a ramshackle but undeniably entertaining climax to the evening's entertainment.

Over at The Rainbow there was more overtly serious fare where The Warlocks were headlining on a recently-redesigned stage area to a black-clad crowd. Bobby Hensher and crew haven't exactly developed their sound as much as refined it: we came for a driven set of powerful, transcendent guitars, that's what we got, and we loved it. Not that everybody was as transfixed, however: some punter with a hot girlfriend is twittering 'The left guitar[sic] looks like a right miserable git'. Sheesh, everyone's a critic these days, right?

Of the supports, we continue to be impressed by Guile, despite them having to fight against the apathy from some of the early birds in the crowd, while London's Wild Palms provided some sharp relief from the storm und drang with their relatively chirpy, choppy, rappy-chappy take on mathsrock, their best two songs bookending an uneven but diverting set. Top marks to whoever was on the decks, too: The Telescopes' 'The Perfect Needle' and Bowie's 'Heroes' (the German language version, unless our ears deceived us), you really know how to spoil us.

Somewhere in between, we managed to shoehorn an express midsummer trip to the predictably humid Academy 3 to see Portland's The Thermals, our first chance to see them and typically it fell at a time where we for once hadn't gotten round to listening to their latest material. It mattered little, as we were too busy jumping up and down to their hilariously energetic fuzzpop/rock to be taking notes anyway. The Thermals, then: sweaty, but fun.

It's A Gas

Experimental Dental School/Even Atlas/Dream Dreams The Dreamer, It's Just Noise @The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Tuesday May 12 2009, 9pm.

An ominous start to the evening when on arrival at the venue there appeared to be no-one about other than the extremely pleasant girl on boffo duties. A quiet start, then, soon to be interrupted by Dream Dreams The Dreamer the new project by Matt Snowden (ex-Esquilax, Doom Patrol), that has developed into a 'sonic orchestra' specialising in experimental, droning post-rock of some portent. When it worked it was pretty terrific, but there was also a few longeurs where your chin-stroking correspondent didn't seem to be the only one shifting about a bit uncomfortably. And while we more than welcome the re-introduction of the trombone into the modern rock canon, we struggled to discern the point if it could rarely be heard above the squalling guitars?

Even Atlas represented something of a shift towards more conventional rock tropes, although with enough of a healthy whiff of pretension (not to mention some discernible Radiohead and Fugazi influences) to keep the serious-minded music fan from frothing in their pint at the hint of a tune. Was an interesting and enjoyable set, but perhaps a bit too eclectic for their own good in terms of a particular style or song really sticking in the mind on first listen. A work in progress, then, but worth keeping an eye on.

Capping these two local noiseniks were Portland, Oregon's Experimental Dental School here on touring duties to promote their second album 'Forest Field', which can be downloaded in total for free from their official site. This is probably a good a way as any of getting a grip on their sound, which is reassuringly difficult to define in these subgenre-heavy times, although their own LastFM blurb as 'really nerdy, dirty jazz punk' is probably as good a stab at it as we could muster, with bruising riffs and gentle noodling establishing an uneasy but eventually pleasing friction.

Something had to give sooner or later, though, and eventually it proved to be Jesse's bass string. He asked for any comedians to make themselves known (a dangerous call in Brum pubs, in our experience) to plug the gap, and right on cue a rogueish-looking gent lurched on stage who just happened to have reams of his own poetry stuffed in his back pocket. Things soon went went back from bard to verse, however, with bass string fixed and the experimental tooth doc tutors resuming their rumbling brilliance to a stirring conclusion. Leaving the only gripe from tonight that such a fine band and a well-drilled bill by It's Just Noise didn't tempt more second-citizens out on an otherwise humdrum Tuesday evening.

Easy Riders

Bombay Bicycle Club/Tantrums, The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Saturday April 18 2009, 8.45pm.

In the interests of fairness and accuracy we should report that we attended this gig after a steady day's drinking before and after attendance at the Hammers' valiant draw at Villa Park and thus witnessed the event through an attendant fug of post-match euphoria and stealthily enveloping stupour. So if you're looking for a detailed analysis of chord changes and other such muso musings this review isn't likely to be particularly enlightening. But we enjoyed both bands so some sort of mention of this fact should be recorded, if only to enable the dear reader to look out for the aforementioned groups next time they're in town.

Tantrums are a local Birmingham band and in fact play the This Is Tomorrow all-dayer at The Victoria tomorrow (3rd). They helped stamp out tunelessness with a set drenched in harmonies, sounding a bit Britpop here and there but with vocal stylings perhaps more in keeping with the more radio-friendly end of emo. And yet, as desperate as that reads, it somehow worked, mainly thanks to some better-than-average choons and a healthy down-to-earth attitude ensuring there was no tears before bedtime on this occasion.

Crouch End's Bombay Bicycle Club looked impossibly young for a band who've been knocking around for long enough to be one of our top tips from the beginning of 2008. If theirs has been a slow progress to the point where they're headlining gigs like this, we witnessed first-hand from our unfamiliar stage-front positioning the frenzied excitement they've started eliciting from their peer-group following.

While you couldn't argue that the (lazy acronym alert!) BBC bring anything startlingly original to the table, you can't help but admire the way they mix the ingredients with such confident dexterity they can present a finished product that still feels fresh, vibrant and feelgood. Jack Steadman has the studied cool and easy arrogance to give Alex Turner a run for his money as the bookish fresher's heart-throb of choice, with tremulous vocals that occasionally recall the likes of Brett Anderson and Peter Perrett, while the band even get away with dropping in PV's pet hate (the token laboured ska-inflected song) and just about pulling it off without looking like prats.

Aside from the singles Always Like This and Evening/Morning, our favourites on the night were Ghost and Cancel On Me, and there certainly seemed enough strength in depth to suggest their debut album (due soon, we reckon) will be an impressive calling card. Although future records seemed the last thing on the audience's mind as they lost themselves in the here and now of crowd surges and stage invasions that saw your wobbling webmaster adopt the Bristol Jeff pose of shaking his mane while steadying one hand on the sound monitor throughout. And fashion pundits wouldn't forgive us for not mentioning the drummer's top-notch shiny parka, because surface coating is important, dontcha know.

Handsome Is As Handsome Does

Handsome Furs/Dan Smith, 93 Feet East, Brick Lane, East London, Wednesday March 8 2009, 8.45pm.

This is the third time in London for Handsome Furs' Canadian singer-guitarist Dan Boechner, perhaps better known thus far for one of his other bands Wolf Parade. The first time he got food poisoning, the second time he got roughed up, so will it be third time lucky on his debut gig here in the UK with the project he's set up with his wife/keyboard-drum machine oppo Alexei Perry?

Before we find out, there's the little matter of Dan Smith whose brand of folk left your patient pundit a little cold, with efforts to jazz things up with elements of ska, rap and even at one point some nu-metal, while welcome, only really serving to highlight the 'trad dad' lack of inspiration in the rest of the material. To end this part of the review on a positive note, however, the best song was announced as the newest and thus suggests this might be a work in progress, Radio2 listeners will undoubtedly love him, and the string section were kinda hot.

Whether its local fans of Londoner Smith lingering about, or a lot of internet buzz, or a combination of both, but the venue is pretty packed by the time Handsome Furs take stage. For the uninitiated, sonically they're kinda the musical intersection between The White Stripes and Bruce Springsteen, with some burbling electronic trimmings thrown in for good measure. Boechner is skinny, tattoo-ed and edgy with Perry supplying a kind of chipper curviness as well as huge amounts of bouncing energy to her instrumental duties, rotating her left arm so rapidly at one point your concerned correspondent thought she might take off helicopter-style.

The result is a big, loud noise but accessible, mainstream and pointedly unpretentious, each tune not forgetting to throw in an anthemic chorus and/or head-bobbing rhythm. Second album 'Face Control' is effectively a concept album inspired by a trip to Eastern Europe (the title refers to a superclub vetting policy where even exhorbitant pre-payment doesn't guarantee your entry if your physiog doesn't fit) although such lyrical concerns seemed to trouble the crowd little as they responded so warmly to the punchy radio rock of 'I'm Confused'; 'Talking Hotel Arbat Blues' and 'Evangeline' that Boechner admits he's gonna have to reassess his attitude to the capitol city after all. And despite his 'Mexican Fender' disintegrating and Perry's equipment having meltdown at various points through the show, it's perhaps no real surprise that huge fun travels so well.

Buffalo Bill And The Indie'Uns

Midori Hirano/Gnu And The Shrew/Muarena Helena, Buffalo Bar, Windsor Terrace, Cardiff, Thursday April 2 2009, 8.30pm.

Your chaotic correspondent has been threatening to make a Loose night in Cardiff for some time, and finally got his act together to make this eclectic and engaging bill, albeit one artiste short with the disappointing absence of Lily Green with throat problems. When in Cardiff, use your Brains, so your ruddy-cheeked rogue sampled some of the brewery's ales in a few local taverns beforehand, the pick being the Reverend James as available in the best of the bars, The Cottage, on St. Mary's Street.

All this exhaustive research already had your stewedshrewd scribe in a jolly mood by the time he made it upstairs at the popular Buffalo Bar, further enhanced by seeing the lovely Liz Hunt from The School on the door, dispensing some Parma Violets and a free compilation CD as she ushered your timeous tinker into the venue to catch the opening moments of East London's Muarena Helena. They're a good introduction to the evening's entertainment, as they combine folk, classical and rock instrumentation but with enough added edge and strangeness to offer a frisson of curious menace to proceedings. Sample song title: Gangland Hand Gesture, so listen to your creaking consigliore when he says watch out for this lot.

Duo Gnu And The Shrew hail from Manchester, and come to Cardiff fresh from Marc Riley's seal of approval on his 6Music show. 'Look at the scary puppets!' points out Liz, as the pair not only deal with found sounds but also a fascinating, mottley collection of vintage/retro bric-a-brac including the afore-mentioned finger furniture. Singer Jennifer Kay has a rasping delivery which may prove an acquired taste, but for your intrigued interloper added to the sense of theatrical oddness that give their predominantly acoustic ditties a distinctive appeal. CD 'Time For Tea', on sale at the gig for a mere six quid, is definitely worth rummaging for, with 'Gasboard Fraud' and 'Bingo' standing out on first few listens.

Headliner Midori Harano is a petite Japanese solo musician whose made her home amidst the electronic scene in Berlin. She offers predominantly keyboard music which produces pretty, pastoral, hazy soundscapes but with enough beats and glitches to add some swooning movement to the ambient electronica. Midori had also arrived in Cardiff entirely free of entourage, which made me rather fancifully think of her like a William Gibson character, a tough cookie in vulnerable guise, trotting the globe with her particular brand of techno-alchemistry. The result was even more intoxicating than the Brains' beers.

In conclusion, a roaring success for Loose, with three apparently very different acts making some logical connections with each other, a friendly, civilised vibe permeating throughout and all the artists concerned proving approachable, even to your Brains-dead blogger's blether!

Next day, had another wander around Cardiff before heading home, getting an 'above-par' cappuccino in Starbucks, taking a walk up and down the impressively reconstructed Roman castle that is slap-bang in the city centre (the audioguide is voiced by the BBC's Huw Edwards) and sampling the Wheat Ale at the nearby Zero Degrees microbrewery that is located opposite from the Millenium Stadium. Don't think it'll be too long before your restless rascal will be gig-going in this neck of the woods again.

If It's Tuesday There Must Be A Gratuitous Belgian Link At The End Of The Dump

We meant to go to see LaRoux and The Electrilickers at The Rainbow back in February but it was snowing and we're fairweather fans so point you instead to a review by the hardier and more local Baron.

In other news, we really like the album Embrace by Sleepy Sun, trippy but undeniably powerful stuff, and they'll be playing ATP on May 8.

Elsewhere, Twenty Major takes on the banks with his usual foul-mouthed flair.

Still with time to spare? Try to unravel the in-jokes over at Power To The People! and Awesome Pals. Co-conspirators at the latter site, Los Campesinos!, also have their very own blog where they ask the very reasonable question 'so what do you want to know?'

For fans of Bob Dylan there's an mp3 of the cheerfully-entitled 'Beyond Here Lies Nothin' from his forthcoming album available for free download from the official site. Bob's voice is more cracked than ever but the choon chugs along rather nicely and successfully whets the appetite for the full record.

And finally, we know it's getting harder for music promoters to tempt punters to part with their hard-earned but the organisers of the recent Kraak Music Festival in Belgium appear to have taken a possibly literal and certainly NOT-SAFE-FOR-WORK approach with their invitational poster...

Genuine Contenders

The Boxer Rebellion/Guile, 444Club@The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Saturday March 14 2009, 9pm.
The Get Out Clause/Out In The Crowd/StRANGEtIME, Dragon Bar, Barfly, Birmingham, Saturday March 7 2009, 7.20pm.

If The Boxer Rebellion were dumped by Alan McGee's Poptones for being bedwetters does that make them Britain's Best Kept Secretions? In an era of 'landfill indie' the multinational group's strobelight anthems have proved stubbornly non-biodegradable, but there's a danger in these over-blogged times that the backstory (self-financed record is released digitally and breaks into Billboard Top 100 and ITunes Top10) obscures the fact that the music ('Union'), no matter what the format or means of distribution, is arguably the most impressive presentation of contemporary rock since Kings Of Leon's 'Because Of The Times'.

The weird thing about their live show is that stirring lead single 'Evacuate', despatched early on in proceedings, has possibly the most muted impact, with the slower-burning material like 'Soviets'; 'Forces' and 'Misplaced' seeming to fire the imagination of an interested crowd. We almost started smoking just so we could wave our lighters, and even minus the female backing vocals 'Flashing Red Light Means Go' still accelerated our emotions on the night.

If the headliners supplied big enough music to headline Glasto (or at least earn a Mercury Music Prize nomination) mention should also be made of main supports Guile, who hail from Cannock and knocked the Staffs out of us with their hypnotic, hard-driving rock music providing regular surges of melody and mayhem to glorious effect. If somebody would be as good as to give them enough time and money to make great records, these guys have it in 'em, we reckon.

The week before, we visited the Dragon Bar (upstairs in the Barfly building) for the first time, to catch a varied bill and get our first fix in 2009 of StRANGEtIME's mad dog rock. Kate Finch & Co. are definitely becoming more prog-metal show-by-show, an approach suiting some songs better than others, but overall the progress is undeniable. Elsewhere on the bill, a young female trio Out In The Crowd played radio-friendly harmonies and nuanced song compositions staggeringly proficient and mature for their years, more like 'Celebrity Skin' era Hole than 'the female McFly' their MySpace page promised/threatened. Even better were The Get Out Clause, whose powerful guitar noise was as impressive as their headgear was lamentable (we'd gladly take our hats off to 'em, if they promise to do the same), so there's really no excuses for not catching up with 'em soon.

Gig Review Ketchup - Emote Icons

The Walkmen, Barfly, Birmingham, Wednesday February 18 2009, 9.30pm.
Popfest All-Dayer, The Macbeth, Hoxton Street, London, Saturday February 28 2009 4pm.
Future Islands, The Old Blue Last, Great Eastern Street, London, Sunday March 1 2009, 10pm.

Sometimes a great and memorable gig is all about the peripheral details - the company; the ambience; the chance encounters and the general craic. The Walkmen's gig at Barfly was not like that at all. A nightmare journey (packed train, only seat available saw your puce-faced peacemaker caught in a ruckus between a reeking drunk and two wannabe gangstas), a heaving crowd and under-resourced, apparently under-trained bar staff made for one of our less comfortable gigging experiences for some months. So it's good to report that The Walkmen were in good enough form to make you realise why you bother.

Their fondness for vintage musical equipment is well recorded, but it's Hamilton Leithauser's voice that's the truly distinctive instrument at their disposal. No-one can hold a roared note quite like the grizzled frontman, and the band play with the confidence of knowing their latest record (You&Me) has defied all expectations and proved every bit as essential and revelatory as their earlier triumphs. Hamilton's academical background clearly didn't include local British accents though, as his improvised Brummie micktake sounded like Dick Van Dyke at his most hackneyed. Though we'll concede 'One more song, then we'll skedaddle' was a great closing line.

The lead singer of Baltimore's Future Islands has a similar impassioned angst-ridden drawl as The Walkmen vocalist, but it's allied to a frothy synth-and-bass backdrop to create a surreal vibe like the musical equivalent of 'Twin Peaks'. At the end of a long, great day which included a football match, catching up with friends and attendant beers, maybe it was our tired, emotional state that left us seduced by their woozy late-night ruminations, but later inspection of 'Wave Like Home' reveals gems like 'Beach Foam' and 'Old Friend' would resonate vividly on even the gloomiest of evenings.

The previous day we'd been round the corner celebrating all things bright and shiny-eyed at the Popfest All-Dayer. This allowed us to reacquaint ourselves with Sweden's Liechtenstein, who have trimmed down to a three-piece since last year's Autumn Store gig and delightful singer Renee's gained a blonde rinse and a Mo-dettes t-shirt into the bargain. Electrelane's harmonies are pleasingly grafted to an early 80s bed-sit pop feel to diverting effect, we recommend you buy their new Everything's For Sale ep now and start salivating for the debut album due later this year.

The Scandinavian presence didn't end there, with Action Biker proving the other revelation on the night, a pretty young lady in a beautiful dress cooing conversational melodies to pre-recorded music that would have strong appeal to fans of Saint-Etienne. Suppose it could be glibly dismissed as 'laptop karaoke' but she had the presence and charm, not to mention voice and hooks, to coax something magical and entrancing from the simple set-up.

Elsewhere on the bill The Pete Green Corporate Juggernaut offered barbed topical popcult anthems in the mould of Half Man Half Biscuit; Town Bike delivered a lively but surprisingly melodic set that would appeal to fans of HMHB and Helen Love; The Loves brought a harder, druggier feel to proceedings with some driving rock songs and no popfest is complete without a spirited, entertaining set from the marvellous Smittens. Only Help Stamp Out Loneliness failed to ignite our passions, but this emptiness may have had more to do with our hunger at this point than the band's lacking - with no food on the premises even the most inimitable indiefans need refuelling and as hard as we tried, sustenance by Guinness alone didn't quite see us through to the end of the night.

Fez Fayre

Ladytron/Asobi Seksu, Kasbah, Primrose Hill Street, Coventry, Saturday November 15 2008, 7.30pm.

And so Dead Kenny sent himself to Coventry at the weekend, despite dire warnings of what your electropoppin' eejit might find there, and discovered that twenty-seven years on from The Specials No.1 hit single, this town's still comin' like a Ghost Town. But luckily also found that the Kasbah was a cool, funky oasis cunningly hidden therein, and kept the Aegean theme continuous with a cheeky chow-down beforehand at nearby World Kebab.

Being used to Birmingham's sweltering Academy venues where the bands regularly ruminate on the ghastly heat, it came as something of a cultural shock to see the guitarist from support act Asobi Seksu having to repeatedly blow into his hands before getting the set started. Reassuring that even glacial popsters don't like the air-conditioning set at antarctic levels, don't you think?

Fortunately things warmed up soon enough with Yuki Chikudate's sweet, ethereal but surprisingly robust singing melting hearts while the rest of the band contributed significant power surges to provide the shoegazing post-rock equivalent to global warming. Entrancing stuff, mainly taken from last year's bittersweet confection 'Citrus', given a light dusting of catharsis when Chikudate whipped off her plaid overshirt, muscled the drummer out of the way and pounded the skins for the set coda. Fans of Cocteau Twins and Lush who haven't yet explored Asobi Seksu (Japanese for playful sex, if you believe Wikipedia) should make amends with immediate effect.

By the time headliners, and lest ye forget, Britain's Best Pop Band (Ever?)(TM), Ladytron made the stage, the Turkish-themed club was filling out and a warm glow was starting to radiate amongst the expectant crowd. The girls were dressed in tasteful black satin as they joined Danny and Reuben on stage to the instrumental intro from third album 'Witching Hour', and two distinctive trends emerged very quickly as the set developed. Firstly, it is Mira Aroyo who takes on the role of talking (albeit in soft, quiet tones) between songs, and also the set (perhaps reflecting the balance of latest album Velocifero) sees a much more equal share of vocal chores between her and Helen Marnie than on the 'Witching Hour' shows.

Ladytron even had the confidence to drop in the superlative 'Seventeen' midway through the show rather than saving it for once-inevitable encore (the majestic 'Destroy Everything You Touch' got that honour). 'Seventeen' is still (rightly) a highlight of the show but it blended in better with the entire oeuvre in its central slot, with recent singles Ghosts and Runaway meeting equivalent approval from the mostly sharp and stylish crowd. Not all of the live interpretations particularly worked for your sceptical scribe however, the intricate melody and sentiment of 'International Dateline' near drowned in a drum-heavy treatment, and 'Deep Blue' making a late recovery from a muted, murky intro.

But Mira, Mira, as Dead Kenny is the fairest blogger of 'em all, he'll conclude on the hugely positive note that the snaky hypnotics of 'Black Cat' and 'Season Of Illusions' were the biggest revelations of the night, both in terms of their rendition and reception. The otherness of these songs may be a more difficult sell commercially, but perversely give them an edge over their rivals. Nobody's ever done better what Ladytron do, and doubtless no-one ever will, and how many of their contemporaries can you say that about?

That's The Last Time We Use The Phrase 'Honest, Guv'

Goldfrapp/Eugene McGuinness, Civic Hall, Wolverhampton, Saturday October 25 2008, 8pm.
Fleet Foxes, Space2, Custard Factory, Digbeth, Birmingham, Friday October 31 2008, 9pm.
Aurora Plastic Monster/StRANGEtIME/The Sweethearts/Sweet Talk, 444 Club downstairs at The Sunflower Lounge, off Queensway, Birmingham, Saturday November 8 2008, 8.30pm.
Neon Neon/Yo! Majesty, Glee Club, Hurst Street, Birmingham, Monday November 10 2008, 8.30pm.

Apologies for the recent gap in Parallax View transmission. To get things back started here's a whistlestop runthrough of a few gigs we've been to recently. Starting with Goldfrapp in Wolves, who were supported by Eugene McGuinness who was as personable as his songs were unremarkable, an adequate stopgap mebbe for folk awaiting the new Jeremy Warmsley album, but what's that? There's a new Jeremy Warmsley out? Ah well, Eugene, there's always reality TV. A less modest return is reaped by headliners Goldfrapp, ostensibly here to promote the lovely 'Seventh Tree' collection but mostly getting more reward live from the squelchier dance numbers from their glam stomping mid-period, although 'Caravan Girl' from their latest also travels exceptionally well.

Hallowe'en saw your feeble freak looking pale and ghastly, but we'd left our mask at home, we were just feeling ever so faint from the deadly combination of heavy coat, hot lights and a packed crowd. Bottled water and some fresh air at the back restored our spirits, along with a performance from Fleet Foxes that manage to move less through energy than through a certain transcendence. Overall, they're a bit more jammy, noodly and loquacious compared to their recorded output, but when things click they're genuinely spellbinding.

A week later, a hastily-rearranged line-up sees frequent Parallax View picks StRANGEtIME in lively, rattling form despite arriving with a cymbal short of a drumkit and brandishing some intriguing new songs. Also on the bill were Norwegian rock trio Aurora Plastic Monster who were bold, bruising and Brit-baiting, and The Sweethearts, who perhaps put more effort in their make-up and clothing than in finding genuine musical inspiration. In contrast, local teenagers Sweet Talk were raw and revelatory, with lead singer Amelia proving compulsively watchable working through her range between sex-kitten purr and death-rattle roar, providing perhaps the missing link between Poly Styrene and Courtney Love on songs like 'Pin-Up Girl'.

Two days later, Yo! Majesty nearly have us call the bar staff to get ready with the defribilators when their electronic bass threatens to jumpstart our hearts into the next lifetime. The energy doesn't let up throughout a breakneck set in which they realise their stated intention to get the crowd sweaty and stinky, giving due props to President Elect Obama and exhorting the crowd of anoraked geeks to 'Fuck Dat Shit' to surprisingly little resistance. If they'd have rocked our boat any more we'd have been overboard and swallowing fish.

Main act Neon Neon were relatively sedate, with Gruff Rhys' laconic charm and deadpan placard prompts for 'Applause' easing the audience through a near-chronological rendition of brilliant retro-futurist concept album 'Stainless Style'. Back-projected images of Raquel Welch and cameos from Har Mar Superstar and Yo! Majesty add some kinetic propulsion to the kitsch, with 'Sweat Shop' perhaps working best of all on the night.

Pip Matters

Lykke Li/Yoav, Glee Club, Hirst Street, Birmingham, Sunday October 5 2008, 8.30pm.
Ladyhawke/Deluka/Death Ohh Eff/The Electrilickers, 444 Club@The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Monday October 6 2008, 8pm.

In the few months since we last saw Lykke Li at Glee, the seated-only studio has made way for a packed standing-room-only show in the bigger room, the crowd here less through curiousity and more from conviction, and the conversion sees the Swede in noticably more relaxed and engaging form. But before all that, we have Yoav, a tidy, bookish young man born in Israel but brought up in South Africa and New York. His music takes on a similarly hybrid form, folk, blues and R&B fused into intriguing songs enhanced by the singer-songwriter fully utilising plentiful effects pedals to create an atmospheric soundscape high on intrigue but a little short on memorable melody.

There a few people who could get away with making an entrance in a Freddy Parrot hat and shapeless outfit, but Lykke Li is one of the number who can, and it's safe to assume she knows it. The set opens with 'Dance, Dance, Dance' given a louder, squelchier, more 'electro' feel than the recorded version, paving the way for a lively performance aimed at dusting off the 'depression' she senses from the audience. 'I'm Good I'm Gone' and 'Breaking It Up' offer predictably giddy thrills, the soon-to-be-re-released 'Little Bit' is already treated like a greatest hit, the dubby, hypnotic pull of 'Complaints Department' is another winner on the night, and there's even room for a tongue-in-cheek cameo of Duffy's 'Mercy' sneaked into closing cover of 'Can I Kick It?'. There are officially no more excuses left not to invest in her debut album 'Youth Novels'.

Next night, head over to The Rainbow in Digbeth for a special 444 Club gig which sees three local hopefuls supporting touring Kiwi star Pip Brown aka Ladyhawke, here to promote her self-titled debut released the previous week. The cunningly-curated cabaret begins with The Electrilickers who operate at the exact intersection between the homespun lo-fi charm of Kate Nash and the harder-partying nu rave aesthetic, a formula which works on the night for two simple reasons: their tunes are cool and the singer's hot. The ecstasy throes of 'Constant Disco' are a suitable climax to a set that provides more fizz and tingle than licking your way through a battery factory.

Meet up with Kate and Chris from newly-rejuvanated StRANGEtIME as Death Ohh Eff make their entrance. Your crumbling correspondent may be getting old, but do bands have to look so young? These guys don't even look old enough to be policemen, but somewhere along the line they've obviously crammed in some intensive education on how to work a crowd with an energetic, keyboard-led set full of bounce, attitude and harmonies. Tremendous fun, although it was all 'a little bit Nathan Barley' for some.

We haven't seen Deluka for a couple of years, since when they've developed some extra balls, a tune on the soundtrack to Grand Theft Auto IV, and much tippin' and toutin' among the music press. They're tighter and rockier than the preceding acts with a stronger drive towards an anthemic punch, although they only hotwire into our hearts during the closing two numbers before leaving the crowd panting for more.

Headliner Ladyhawke has a different problem, and it's one that similarly affects her debut album. Her songs are consistently strong in terms of memorable tunes and anthemic power, but she operates within such a tight formula and poodle-permed 80s mindset, you feel like you've seen and heard enough about halfway through, even though she saves belters like 'Paris Is Burning' and 'My Delirium' for the concluding double-whammy. Maybe a little more personality in the performance and more depth in the lyrics would help develop a higher-level of emotional engagement to undertow the undoubted heft of the choonage.

With many thanks to Shakeypix for kind permission to use some of his brilliant shots from the night in this review.

Closely Observed Pre-Trains

The Autumn Store Presents A Pre-Indietracks Special: The Smittens/The Zebras/Red Pony Clock, The Sunflower Lounge, off Queensway, Birmingham, Tuesday July 22 2008, 9.30pm.

Just get into the venue in time as Red Pony Clock start limbering up, a Tijuana-based octet who sound like a mix between Calexico and all-out chaos. Their van exploded on the way to the venue, but they seem in surprisingly good spirits about it, perhaps because on the plus-side it means you're not short of things to talk about between songs. You know those pictures that look like random dots but if you stare at them for long enough all of a sudden this brilliant 3-D image pops up before your eyes and makes sense of it all? Red Pony Clock are the sonic equivalent, as their seemingly ramshackle material develops into something clever, organic and fun to fully reward the patient, open-minded listener. There's still not enough dancing going on for the band's liking, though, until The Smittens' drummer Holly shows how it's done, leaping around like a frisky kitten ricocheting from furniture, to hugely engaging effect.

The Zebras aren't from South Yorkshire, they're from Rotherham - Rotherham, in Australia, that is, although Northern English influences like The Smiths and The Wedding Present would seem evident in a band with a much more immediate, accessible appeal to an indie crowd than Red Pony Clock. The Zebras are more than the sum of their influences, however, with songs that swoop and soar and stir, destined to go down well with Weddoes fans at this weekend's Indietracks, we feel. Their stage banter needs some work, however, maybe they need to emerge unscathed from a tour vehicle inferno to put some fire in their bellies?

With things running later than planned, your harassed hack needs to make a Last Train to Larksville exit halfway through the headline set from Burlington, Vermont's The Smittens, but what we see/hear is confident, breezy and tuneful, and fully in line with all the good things we've heard about/from them, and we'll look out for them next time they're jingling their jangle back on these shores.

All in all, another fine evening of high-quality indie gathering courtesy of those friendly folk from The Autumn Store!

All three bands featured will be playing at Indietracks this weekend (July 26-27, festival fact fans) in deepest Derbyshire.

Dead Kenny's Behrami Army

To celebrate our beloved West Ham finally making their first major signing of the summer in Valon Behrami, a Kosovan-born Swiss international right back, whose crazy hair and tats should see him fit in well with our long history of 'eccentric' full-backs, Parallax View sees fit to empty our favourites folder for you to pick 'n' mix -

More reasons to be cheerful as Joe Lean And The Jing Jang Jong shelve their debut album. Seems like an 8/10 rating from the NME doesn't amount to a hill o'beans these days!

We've cut back our gig/festival-going in the last month or so, but some good folk have put the hours in during our absence -

Drowned In Sound review Supersonic 2008.

Ben SWSL's Glasto 2008 Diary.

Sweeping The Nation reviews Truck festival.

Last Bus Home reviews the Lovebox Weekender at Victoria Park.

Troubled Diva reviews White Denim at Nottingham Bodega.

In other news -

Rock drummers are top athletes.

Attachments' Amanda Ryan is to play Cathy in Birmingham Rep's upcoming Wuthering Heights adaptation.

Twenty Major's cure for another boring summer.

Scary Duck on passive-aggressive notes.

Lydongate? Johnny's Behaviour Rotten? Swells on the 'racist' rickus (via RussL)

Careless Genes shows us how to make home-made peanut butter.

Birmingham's Flapper and Firkin faces demolition. (via Pete Ashton)

NOT SAFE FOR WORK eye candy if you like the idea of a Japanese Cheryl Cole lookalike with F-cup depth to her personality - Suzuka Ishikawa (20): REMINDER: NOT WORK SAFE.

M.I.A. and Santogold Get It Up together.

Cat With A Theremin (via just about everybody, it seems).

And finally, we did get to a gig last night, review to follow shortly, but here as a taster is one of the bands, Red Pony Clock, and their silly promo for My New Best Friends. If you like what you see/hear, they'll be playing the Indietracks festival in Ripley, Derbyshire this weekend -

School's Clout

The School/Flicklisten/The Puncture Repair Kit, Swiss Concrete @ The Bullingdon Arms, Oxford, Thursday June 19 2008, 8.45pm.

The Bullingdon Arms is a short taxi ride away from Oxford's main rail station, a smallish pub with friendly, fetching bar staff and a big backroom area where the bands play. Ben and your long-distance lurker meet up with a couple of the SWSLer's charming co-workers, and get waylaid watching Germany beat Portugal in the Euro2008 Q-F so only catch the last few songs from The Puncture Repair Kit. Their boisterous, slightly ramshackle take on indie-pop reminds your comparison-crazed correspondent of The Strange Death Of Liberal England, but we hope the rest of the set was less impressive because a) we hate to have missed out on anything and b) we'd just lurve to be able to say The Puncture Repair Kit flat-tyred to deceive.

Flicklisten is a guy who comes from Ohio but has lived in Oxford for four years, a singer/guitarist occasionally accompanied by a young lady who plays a violin shaped like a pair of scissors (a cut above the usual instrument, natch). He has a good voice, knows how to get a meaningful, sombre strum from his guitar, and has a droll line in tinder-dry banter, but his songs, on first listen anyway, are more interesting than truly memorable.

This last charge is certainly something you could never level at our learned friends The School, who've happily mastered the knack of catchy tunes addressing bold sentiments, embellished with 60s girl-pop stylings yet undertowed by savvy indie knowingness. They seem to be a Rosie and at least one Ryan short of the line-up when we last saw them, but Liz is in good, giggly form, describing Oxford as very pretty once you've found it, a reference to the maybe-Multimap-induced mayhem of their journey into the city. Of tonight's set, the songs from last week's Single Of The Week 'Let It Slip' ep prominently feature, there's a mystery cover version that no one gets, and the small matter of a dedication to their 'longest-travelling fan - Ken!' for their closing number 'All I Wanna Do'.

Your marathon-man mitherer hides his blushes for just long enough to grab a few words with Liz at the end of the show, as the band pack away their equipment in readiness for a trip to Spain for a festival performance. She insists the recent departures were amicable and not the result of a Mark E Smith-like hire-em-fire-em ethos, and reveals a new band member is forthcoming who will cover both instruments. Talking of covered instruments, we don't have to get our twelve-inch ruler out as Liz very kindly autographs our copy of the 'Let It Slip' ep before we wave her off to Spain. But not before she reveals an addition to The School timetable: a debut album due early next year!

Ship Shapes And Bristol Fashion

Dot-to-Dot Festival, Various venues in Bristol, Saturday May 24 2008 and Sunday May 25 2008, 2.45pm-11pm.

This is your erudite explorer's first time at Dot-to-Dot, and on only our second expedition to Brizzle itself, and special thanks are due to new city resident Alison for providing the hospitality, company, laptop access and orienteering skills as we traversed the city in search of indie-rock thrills. Bristol seems almost unfairly blessed with unusual venues, with things kicking off on a moored-boat-cum-nightclub Thekla, and other sites including a converted church (Trinity) and prison (the appropriately named Fiddlers), all adding to the sense of adventure and discovery.

All aboard the good ship Thekla, our first band of the fest were Telepathe (pronounced by the band as telepathy as if spoken in a foreign accent) who featured (running theme alert!) an androgynous lead singer who looked for all the world like a cabin boy until she opened her pipes. Technical difficulties bedevilled the New Yorkers' set, which had something of a shambolic air (the sexy drummer abandoned her instrument for most of the set), but somehow through it all, by combination of sullen cool and some beautiful, fascinating songs, they seem to just about get through it all with their allure intact.

Then caught a couple of songs by serious young men The Detachments, which was enough to make you walk the plank, so headed off to rockpub The Fleece where Dublin's Fight Like Apes turned Bristol into the Wild West for half-an-hour, striding across the bar counter and wrestling each other in the moshpit during a cathartic and hugely enjoyable set, with former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Jake Summers' the crazed centrepiece amongst their other harder, slightly grungier material. FLA also afforded us our first encounter with Bristol's most noteworthy superfan, a tall ginger bearded fellow called Geoff/Jeff whose propulsive stage-front duracell-dancing antics were a significant ongoing feature during festivities.

Downstairs at local roots venue The Louisiana, Sid Delicious were offering some skewed, off-beat thrills, while upstairs met back up with Alison to catch some of Eugene McGuinness' more traditional folk fayre, which should offer some appeal to fans of the Norwegian troubadour Sondre Lerche. Much more to our liking was Esser back over at Thekla, who looked tetchy and preoccupied during the soundcheck, but with his band got everybody dancing with jerky, infectious, and ever-so-slightly ridiculous pop music all set to create waves everywhere if there was any justice in this world.

We should have followed Geoff/Jeff's purposeful gait towards the Fiddlers, but instead got slightly lost and so despairingly missed Southampton's Thomas Tantrum performing former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Shake It! Shake It!' (dispatching your most famous song early in the set seems to be another emerging trend) although what remained was nevertheless impressive, albeit more conventionally rockin' than their strop-pop SOTW. Top marks too to the very pretty lead singer for taking the time to publicly thank Geoff/Jeff for his sterling dancefloor exertions, and the dishing out of the free badges afterwards.

We elected to stay in Fiddlers to catch Micachu, who've been recording with Matthew Herbert and are starting to make a noise in London. They make heavy weather of the start of the set, the singer appearing to be in the 'attitude' stage of a day's drinking, and our attention wanders to the consideration of whether the drummer is a boy or girl (the former, if you're interested). Things do improve as the set goes on, and maybe in the studio with a disciplined producer their recorded output might be worth exploring.

Sunday morning was spent trawling MySpace to identify some bands worth catching, and the day eventually took us by surprise in terms of offering an even wider array of thrills, despite getting lost in one of Bristol's less salubrious spots in search of Trinity, where we saw a couple of uninspiring bands kick the day off amidst the anti-climax of Team Waterpolo pulling out. Much better was to follow, however, with Woodbridge's Cheeky Cheeky And The Nosebleeds proving a genuine revelation back at Fiddlers, despatching urgent (East-Angular?) guitar pop with energy, enthusiasm and that raw fearlessness you get from a band that's twigged they're on the cusp of something transformative. Daft name, then, but brilliant choons, particularly the marvellous anthem 'Slow Kids'.

This inspires your adrenaline-rushed arsehole to stuff in quick snatches of bands during an intense period of shuttling between venues and a strict three-songs-and-then-you're-gone policy which we only break for Red Light Company at Fleece, because they are excellent value, because 'With Lights Off' is a majestic classic, because the lead singer looks like an even skinnier Tom Petty, but also because by this stage we're knackered. Bonus points for the ecstatic group hug afterwards, too, which seemed genuine and this gang mentality will serve them well in the music industry travails that are sure to follow.

Around RLC we also found ourselves rattled by the rush of Pack AD's butch, bruising take on modern blues in Louisiana; impressed with the colossal high-energy post-rock guitar squalls of Leicester's Maybeshewill at Fleece; smiling like a silly-'un to the giddy 80's guilty pleasures of Cornwall's Rosie and the Goldbug at Thekla and left feeling slightly cold by moody Swedes Dag for Dag back again in Louisiana.

Things were then topped off in Thekla with The Mae Shi nearly stealing the whole weekend in a suitably scurvied piratical style, their jittery, attention-deficited noise-pop keeping everybody hugely entertained. We've heard of bands canvassing their fans before, but we've never seen it quite so literally demonstrated as when the band haul a sheet of tarpaulin over the moshpit and all dive inside under it, where they find themselves, amongst others, rubbing pneumatic shoulders with the omnipresent Geoff/Jeff. All in all, a wonderfully in-tents performance, then.

Cutting Pink With Knives have the opposite effect to The Mae Shi's inclusive gestures, in one of their last ever live performances, with frightened punters scampering away for safety as the lead singer took off his shirt and attempted to bully those at the bar into the moshpit. The music was slammin' and powerful in a kind of Beestung Lips-with-the-brakes-off intensity, and although we weren't really in the mood for it, it was kind of fascinating to watch as a piece of theatre, even though the search for anything remotely resembling a melody proved a fruitless task.

Then it was back to The Fleece for our last show of the festival: Metronomy, who seemed to be trying to be Klaxons so hard it hertz, wacky light circles emblazoned on their chests, and all. They were OK, to be fair, a reasonable soundtrack to the last few drinks of the weekend, but nothing to write home about in comparison to The Red Light Company, The Mae Shi, Fight Like Apes, Cheeky Cheeky And The Nosebleeds, Esser, Rosie and The Goldbug and Thomas Tantrum, who made up my magnificent seven from this delightfully dotty weekend.

Pearls Amongst Swine

Cat Power, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Tuesday June 10 2008, 9pm.
Laura Marling/The Melodica, The Melody And Me, St.Paul's Church, Birmingham, Thursday June 12 2008, 8pm.

This week sees the release in solo format of two of our favourite songs from albums we haven't talked about much thus far on Parallax View, so in a frothing fit of indecision we've made them joint Singles Of The Week. First up, 'My Sunken Treasure' is the hidden pop gemstone buried deep within The Duke Spirit's surprisingly robust second album 'Neptune', lilting melody and interesting bittersweet sentiments intertwining to fetching effect. Laura Marling's 'Cross Your Fingers' is perhaps the choice cut from her really rather good indeed debut album 'Alas, I Cannot Swim', it being unusual for a folk song to have so many multiple hooks, and Laura's frisky vocal rendering of slightly macabre lyrics adding to the intriguing and strangely seductive appeal.

Perversely, 'Cross Your Fingers' was one of the least inspiring tracks at her gig in St. Paul's Church on Thursday, the drums overpowering some of the subtleties that really makes the song work. Overall, however, it was a triumphant performance in a stunning setting - it was your sacrilegious scribe's first gig in a church (as evidenced by our run-in with a pew door hinge) and it was only a few goblets of communal wine short of a complete success. Laura was in personable, chatty form, sometimes playing with a band, sometimes without, a spine-tingling introduction of 'Ghosts' and, ironically(?), 'You're No God' amongst the standouts. A few words, too, for support act Melodica, Melody And Me, who compensated for their drummer being AWOL celebrating his birthday with some good-spirited shanty-like choons, generously laced with delicious harmonies, their appeal lying somewhere between the likes of The Coral and the Isobel Campbell/Mark Lanegan albums.

Two days earlier, we finally got round to seeing Cat Power at the Academy 2, after a few false starts in recent years with cancellations and whatnot. Having missed the support artistes Appaloosa, and not having had chance to purchase the new album 'Jukebox' from which most of the set was taken, don't really feel best qualified for a detailed review of the event, so would prefer to refer you here instead. To begin with, the concert felt a little bland, a little bit 'Later...', a little bit Glee Club for my liking, but slowly and surely some variety and balls kicked in, and we haven't seen a singer work so hard to emote and engage for a good long while as Chan Marshall did that night, her soulful, devastatingly husky vox in pristine form throughout a longer-than-the-norm performance duration. For someone with such a past reputation for behaviour inconsistency that makes Pete Doherty look like a choirboy to deliver Springsteen-levels of workrate and stamina was a revelation to behold.

Ida Awe

Ida Maria/Dan Whitehouse, Glee Club, Birmingham, Tuesday May 27 2008, 8.30pm.

There's an urban legend that if you wander the streets of Birmingham for long enough you will invariably chance upon an encounter with the Prykemeister. On the way to Birmingham's Glee Club tonight, our peripheral vision reveals everyone's favourite AI boffin rushing towards your confused correspondent with a bunch of flowers. Fortunately for all concerned, Prykemeister isn't acting on any kind of backcrack-fuelled impulse, and is in fact on his way to present said petals and stems to his girlfriend Huma.

Don't have time to go into detail with him about what he might have done wrong to require flowers (oh come on, they're always a guilt-edged gift, aren't they?) as need to get into Glee before their curfew. Support again tonight comes from Wolverhampton troubadour-type Dan Whitehouse, although unlike his turn before Lykke Li, this time he's unaccompanied by pianist June Mori. Whether it's this, or the fact that, unusually for Glee, it's a standing gig, Dan is strangely subdued between the first few numbers, despite confidently starting the set with his best song 'Somewhere I Don't Want To Go'. Halfway through the set, however, he becomes less preoccupied and refinds his mojo, getting, by the end of the performance, the best crowd reception we've heard for him yet, and plenty of interest at the merch stand after the show, where he's selling sampler CDs ahead of an upcoming album release.

Swedish-based Norwegian Ida Maria acts pretty much the rock star from the outset, wearing a top hat, leather micro-jacket and lairy expression as she wraps her distinctively rasping larynx over a collection of songs that include her three singles to date plus other tasters from her upcoming album (due to ship late June). The standing-only format suits Ida well, because the music is essentially bluesy rock designed to get people moving and having a good time. Few blues-rock outfits have tunes as consistently good as these, however, and the presence and voice of Ida Maria helps the material transcend its' roots in the same way Rod Stewart elevated The Faces four decades ago.

The singles stand out, if on terms of familiarity alone, with the singer giving her all on the desperate denouement to former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Stella', the feelgood folk fuzz of 'Queen Of The World' ratcheted up a few notches live, and the most punk-rock number 'Oh My God' seeing Ida dive in amongst the moshers for some sweaty catharsis. Of the other songs '(I Like You Better When You're) Naked' may yet be her breakthough hit, given its' catchy refrain complete with saucy sentiment seems destined to be chanted at student discos from here until at least Xmas.

In-Cistern-ed Rhythm

We've been mentioning it in despatches for a while, so with its physical release in stores now, it seems only fair to bestow the near-mythological Parallax View Single Of The Week status upon 'I'm Good I'm Gone' by Lykke Li. We could bore you with a long post about production techniques or a state-of-the-pop-nation address, but instead we'll just say we like this song because it makes us happy, so maybe there's a chance it'll make you happy too. To help you decide, here's a YouTube vid of La Lykke and chums belting it out in a toilet, complete with spoons and a rad reindeer jumper, and ending with a flush flourish.



And remember, pop pickers, don't forget to wash your hands!

Santi Establishment

Santogold, Bar Academy, Birmingham, Monday May 26 2008, 9pm.

Missed the boat in Bristol when couldn't get into the good ship Thekla to see Santogold at the prior weekend's Dot To Dot, although we did have the pleasure of Santi and her dancers brushing straight across your queuing quizling to get on board. So we're fortunate that just two days later we get to see the girls put on a show in the cosy confines of Bar Academy.

A standard support act is eschewed in favour of a DJ who plays an eclectic mix of dance, pop and indie, which, we suppose, is as good as any entree in terms of getting the palate ready for the live showcasing of the Santogold album, for which the DJ remains on stage behind Santi and her two dancers.

The resulting show has been described elsewhere as glorified karaoke, but your hypnotised hack maintains the sight of an energetic, passionate crowd-pleaser like Santi flanked by two dancers who alternate robotically between standing stock-still and some sizzling dance shapes provides more of an arresting visual spectacle than many a so-called great live act in the indie pantheon.

Santi makes no pretence that tonight's performance is anything other than a small-scale celebration of her debut album before she returns with a full band later in the summer. Her stated objective is getting the Second City's early adopters and prime schmoozers shaking their rump to a set heavy in the dancier numbers like 'CREATOR'; 'Unstoppable' and, of course, former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'L.E.S. Artistes' at the expense of poppier highlights like 'Lights Out' and 'I'm A Lady'. The mission is easily accomplished.

Modest in size and set-up as the gig might be, the mutual goodwill between the artist and crowd, helped by the energy of the performance (Santi's alive eyes and sense of fun owes as much to the likes of Tina Turner and Neneh Cherry than the much-quoted M.I.A.) and the genuine quality of the material makes for a memorable show that leaves no-one going home short-changed.

Gotta Be Startin' Somethin'

The Ting Tings/Modernaire, Irish Centre, Birmingham, Tuesday May 20 2008, 8pm.

This is your curious correspondent's first venture into the Irish Centre, and our findings are mostly favourable. It's just about the only large gig venue in Brum where you can buy draught bitter (and a choice between two or three at that) and the bar staff seem reasonable in number and interested in disposition, another welcome change. There's also the novelty of a carpeted floor, but on the downside the bar side of the auditorium finds the view restricted by the speakers on the right side of the stage, meaning we only get to see two-thirds of support act Modernaire, whose lively and noisy brand of electro-rock seems short of memorable melody until set closer 'Bloodshed In The Woodshed'.

Since booking our ticket for this gig, The Ting Tings have only gorn and re-released 2007 Parallax View Single Of The Week 'That's Not My Name' and gone to Numero One in the real life pop charts, meaning a sell-out (officially, anyway...) gig and a triumphant mood in the air. Wasn't sure how their perky pop would fare in the live area but The Ting Tings soon reveal themselves to be natural performers, confidently getting in their stride with 'We Walk', giving 'Great DJ' an early spin and taking a gamble on 'Fruit Machine' giving them three hits in a row. The only halting moments are provided by ballad 'Traffic Light' which seems a bit pedestrian in comparison to the propulsive pop of the rest of the show.

Singer Katie White makes light of the full house and semi-restricted view by prancing for much of the time on the raised end of the stage where everyone has a decent view (why don't more pop stars take the trouble to do this most obvious of moves?). This allows everyone to share in the triumph of Numero Uno 'That's Not My Name', a strop-pop sensation with more hooks than a Peter Pan convention and one of the most completely satisfying tunes of the decade with its steady build of feelgood tropes spiralling into the giddiest of climaxes. Almost impossible to top, although a belting rendition of album title track 'We Started Nothing' has a damn good try, leaving the crowd to head home with a more pleasing than usual ringing in the ears.

Specs Mark The Spot

The Autumn Store Presents: The Deirdres/Winston Echo/Amida, Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham, Saturday May 10 2008, 8.45pm.

In honour of all things Deirdre, the Autumn Store organisers have put six pictures of Corrie character Deirdre Barlow/Raschid in various places within the venue for customers to take a punt as to how many and enter a prize draw of merchandise from all three bands playing. The correct answer is six, and your short-sighted scribe only found two, so no spotters badge for Dead Kenny tonight. Your concentrating correspondent does, however, manage to catch all three acts and these are our views.

Manchester's Amida are hurried on first on the bill so that they can get the train back home, but with a bit of decent fortune their slightly shambly and properly jangly take on alternative pop will bring in enough moolah to get themselves a van real soon. The band take time to thank the audience for being so polite and paying attention to their tunes before beating a path to New Street station. Overall impression: amiable, humble, could well be worth checking them out again real soon.

Winston Echo is a roundish gentleman from Wellingborough who has his own public transport woes to relate, as well as singing some observational lo-fi pop with a little bit of instrumental assistance from some bloke from The Retro Spankees. The missing link between Johnny Vegas and Billy Bragg, he's a bit different from the usual Autumn Store fayre, and the bill feels all the better for his hugely entertaining turn.

The Deirdres from Derby are huge in number and young of age, and there's too much going on at any one time to take all of it in at first. They start the show with their backs turned to the audience and have their own dance routine before revealing that they're all in character by wearing a pair of big Deirdre specs either on their face, their head or coquettishly tucked into their blouses. There are obvious comparisons to Los Campesinos! and another fashionable twist sees the group swap instruments and vocal turns with dizzying regularity.

Which is all very well, but does it all work? By and large, yes, aside from a slight glitch with that most evil of instruments, the recorder (the distant memories of disinfectant taste and clumsy fingers still bedevil your haunted hack), these precocious upstarts reveal talent, invention and more than decent songwriting skills. One suspects it may have taken years of practice and preparation for them to be this gauche and yet so good and so fun. The Deirdres, then: not a Barlow par performance between them.

Curious to see these acts for yourself? All three will be performing at the Indietracks festival in July in The Deirdres' home county of Derbyshire.

Estranged Time

StrangeTime/Girls Drink Free/Firebrand/Cellar Door, Little Civic, Wolverhampton, Friday May 9 2008, 8pm.

This has been announced as drummer and founding member John O'Neill's final gig with StRANGEtIME, news that sees some openly questioning the band's future while Kate and Chris seek a new sticksperson and an additional guitarist. With fine new ep 'Oneitis' showcasing a heavier sound and increasingly inscrutable lyrics, it all seems curious timing, but for sure these are strange times indeed for StRANGEtIME.

West Bromwich's Cellardoor open things up nicely with their atmospheric instrumentals, impressing with their powerful surges of sound, while Firebrand are a three-girl hard rock band from Leicester and Nottingham who deliver a handsome racket with slightly strange lyrics, an uncompromising attitude and last but by no means least, a really hot drummer. Last of the supports Girls Drink Free are a popular local outfit with an eye-catching name and crowd-pleasing brand of ska-flavoured rock sure to go down well with fans of big shorts.

By the time the headliners are on stage the audience has got bigger and lairier, and one of the guys from Girls Drink Free is waving a placard of the Guns 'n' Roses guitarist in bassist Chris Maher's face (trust us, dear reader, any comparison between the two is pure Slash fiction). StRANGEtIME do well in concentrating on the job in hand, in terms of promoting the ep through taut renditions of choice cuts like 'Profile' and 'Siren', their new hyper take on longstanding live favourite 'Ex' and a hard-hitting climax with the title track 'Oneitis' itself. If this is to be the last StRANGEtIME show (for a while at least, and with the current line-up) then it's one hell of a calling card to leave with.

Crystal Tips

The NME/Top Man New Noise Tour feat. Crystal Castles/Friendly Fires/Team Waterpolo, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Thursday May 8 2008, 8pm.

Due to your tut-tutting tinker's train being delayed by 35 minutes the first act of four tonight is missed. To sum up then - White Lies: don't do it.

Perhaps in deference to the demographic chased by the tour sponsors it's a young crowd tonight, resulting in a weird permeating smell of spearmint and germolene, and a youth behind your Fila-footed faffer stamping his feet in indignation that he's the only one present 'wearing normal Adidas'. Mind, the band's aren't much older these days, judging on Team Waterpolo's appearance, who confidently launch into their own welcoming, self-referencing nu-metal anthem. They prove difficult to pigeon-hole however, with emo, fraggle and sun-kissed pop amongst the strings to their bow. Think PWEI. Think The Wonderstuff. Think Silver Sun. Think The Pigeon Detectives. Then stop thinking for a bit because your head will be hurting, and just smile along to the blissful harmonising.

For those of you who are gnashing at the bit for some new material by The Rapture, Friendly Fires may just be your favourite new band. For the rest of us, their energy, attitude and enthusiasm may only get them so far in persuading us their inspiration is equal to their perspiration. They serve their purpose in generating some heat before the main band comes on, but will need to find some more distinctive tinder in their box if they're to be considered genuinely flamin' groovy.

Crystal Castles have no such difficulty leaving a distinctive mark, lead singer Alice announcing 'We Are The Top Man' before launching herself into the audience and belting out the stand-out numbers from their excellent debut album while lit up by constantly flashing strobe lighting effects. They bring a new musical hybrid to town, with the euphoric rush of rave music blending with anxious jittery post-punk vox from Alice, for all the world looking like a whirling dervish wildchild of Sid Vicious and Gaye Advert. The effect is like Karen O fronting Justice, supplying instant pop thrills and an amphetamine edge but subtly tempered with a fuzz of MDMA wellbeing for a smooth in-built comedown.

She's Good, She's Gone

Lykke Li/Dan Whitehouse, Glee Club (Studio), Birmingham, Friday April 25 2008, 8.30pm.

With the audience once again at the Glee Club reduced to a catatonic state in the face of the quasi-fascistic tendencies of the PA, local troubadour Dan Whitehouse works hard to get us onside with some upbeat banter and a set of earnest but intriguingly crafted songs. Last time we saw Dan (supporting Maria McKee last year) his microphone drooped spectacularly during the first number, but tonight a pianist extension in the form of June Mori is on hand to provide complement and uplift, raising the singer-songwriter's game to a different level.

Lykke Li is a nineteen year-old Swede who dresses like a bohemian raver and sings dancefloor-friendly pop with a little-girl voice and a sad, haunted facial expression. She has a backing band of three musicians who include a man with a big bad drum and a keyboard player with really nice shoes. Lykke sometimes also helps out with some impromptu and seemingly improvised percussion via her stiletto heels and, once or twice, by striking the pendants hanging from her neck.

These lo-fi, DIY trimmings add inclusive appeal to some sterling pop gems that here and there bring to mind the likes of Cyndi Lauper, Lene Lovich and Lamb. The set includes the hypnotic 'Dance Dance Dance' and her first single (and best known track over here) 'Little Bit' but it's 'I'm Good I'm Gone' (one of the best choons of the year so far, say we) which really brings proceedings to life - kooky charm; defiant sentiments and a contagious rhythm intertwining to devastating effect. But no sooner has she won us over and she's good to her word, dissappearing into the night leaving us after a short set which serves as a 'teaser' before her album hits in June and the touring/festival circuit begins in earnest.

Charmed, we're sure, but how to pronounce her name? Lykke as in lick-y or Lykke as in lick-er or liquor? It's not until we're safely back at the Parallax palatial home and we turn on Later...with Jools Holland that we discover the former Squeeze man introducing the young Swede in a pre-recorded show as Lykke Li as in lucky-Li. Fortune's sometimes hiding in the wee small hours of the night, and good to see we're paying the TV licence for something!

Meet The Folkers

Flaxenby/Whalebone, Cinnamon Coffee and Meeting House, Bridgnorth, Shropshire, Tuesday April 22 2008, 8.15pm.

As the vast majority of our gig-going exploits centre around Birmingham and Wolverhampton, it's perhaps high time we sampled some live entertainment from our home county of Shropshire. So went with the singer-songwriter Matthew Hill to check out Flaxenby and Whalebone at Bridgnorth's Cinnamon Coffee and Meeting House. First time at the venue, which surprised us by being exactly what it sounds like, that is a cafe rather than a bar as such (although they serve wine and bottled beers/ciders alongside their trademark spiced coffees) and with the bands playing in front of a seated area not unlike a miniature village hall.

It provided a hushed, civilised vibe that might be more intimidating in its own way to a nervous performer than a crowded bar area where not everyone's attention is focused purely on the band. Luckily Whalebone are regulars here, and have the relaxed air of three people who've just decided to do some impromptu entertainment in their own front room, with frontman Steve never short of an anecdote or quip between numbers. They comprise two guitarists and a fiddle player, and play exclusively instrumentals, a remit that might sound limiting on paper but they do well to expand it into interesting directions, with at least one song entering into post-rock territory and an intriguing cover of 'Hotel California'.

Should declare some sort of interest with regards to the second act Flaxenby, as your curious correspondent knows one of the singers, Sam McLeod, from schooldays and beyond, although this is the first time we've clapped eyes on each other for more years than one suspects either of us would like captured on record. Luckily, Sam manages to recover her composure from the trauma of her past catching up with her in the boggle-eyed form of your bashful blogger, and the last-minute arrival of fiddle player Andy Jones, to deliver a fine show with her band. It's mainstream folk music all right, but played by people you feel have more than a passing knowledge of other genres, and infused with sufficient melancholy to encroach into the blues.

Anyone with an interest in atmospheric folk ballads and/or a taste for male/female vocal interplay would do well to invest in the current Flaxenby CD 'Brand New', which features some memorable tunes (including the title track, 'This Feeling', 'Don't Look Down' and 'The One') and some great singing (Sam has a genuinely beautiful voice while co-singer Chris Buttery supplies earthier, wearier but no less mellifluous tones). Sipping cappuccinos while listening to acoustic folk may have made a change from our usual rock'n'roll antics, but the civilising atmosphere and haunting melodies made for a relaxing and intriguing evening's entertainment, supplying plentiful evidence of cultural life flourishing in the Shropshire countryside.

Just Like I Like Them, They've Got Nice Hits

The Teenagers/The Scarlet Harlots, Bar Academy, Birmingham, Wednesday April 2 2008, 8.30pm.
The Long Blondes/XX Teens, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Tuesday April 15 2008, 8.30pm.

We've seen local lot The Scarlet Harlots named on many a Brummie bill but this is our first experience of the saucily-monikered sonic merchants in the flesh. Maybe it's the relatively early midweek hour or your hard-working hack's sobriety but their ska-inflected funk-rock leaves us peculiarly unmoved for the most part, although the last three songs sees sufficient improvement for your fair-minded fathead to want to check them out again, late evening on a club night preferably.

Whatever you say about the French, they're just about the only nationality that knows how to get away with a moustache, as with the lead crooner of The Teenagers who as an oueuf sex appeal to beat the egg-carriers in the crowd crazy. The Gallic indie-poppers are difficult to describe (like a boyband exposed to MTV2, svengali'd by Houellebecq and Gainsbourg rather than Simon Cowell) but easy to listen to, with tunes and hooks that would be all over the radio like a pustulent STD if only they didn't drop the 'C' bomb so plentifully in the lyrics.

More serious weblogs would no doubt explore whether The Teenagers are a grim reflection of a European youth whose misogyny has been greased and colonised by satellite TV and internet p0rn or whether there's more dark, ironic games undertowing the songs' playful exterior, but here at Parallax View we'll satisfy ourselves with bouncing up and down and singing along to the likes of 'Getting Better', 'Streets Of Paris' and 'Wheel Of Fortune'. And in the final analysis the number of young women clambering on stage to sing the distaff part to 'Homecoming' (so popular, it gets two outings tonight) would suggest they don't feel excluded from the fun.

XX Teens are unfamiliar to us, but they get our attention from the get-go with their tight, funky, maths-punk coming on like an anglicised !!!. As things go on, though, we find ourselves urging them to find a new angle and/or take it to the next level, but on tonight's showing, they don't ever quite manage it. Not having a Plan B isn't something you can fairly level at The Long Blondes who have re-imagined themselves in the mould of Blondie's more experimental moments for second album "Couples". Pre-release buzz for the record was a low murmur of discontent, but now that it's out for the world to hear more and more people seem to be responding to their new-found adventurousness.

It's certainly a tightly-packed Academy 2 in the long half-hour wait between bands, a gap perhaps partially explained by hometown boy Screech's concentration on the WBA v Wolves local derby ('The Baggies have just gone 1-0 up' he cheerfully announces). The Long Blondes quickly move on from Championship skirmishes to Premiership pop matters, however, with a set that packs in pretty much every track from "Couples" as well as dropping in old favourites like 'Once And Never Again' and 'Giddy Stratospheres' which could even put a smile on the faces of rival derby-day gaffers Mick McCarthy and Tony Mowbray.

Although all of the band have their moments, it's still lead singer Kate Jackson who commands the attention, this year's more understated sartorial suss seeing her wear a micro-sleeved black top that reveals a large tattoo on her right arm which provides interesting counterpoint to the elegant feminity of the rest of her look. At once slightly aloof and yet eager to please, she's a fascinating frontperson who even finds time to give particular praise to the venue (we're not entirely sure, but we think this is a first in our experience at the Academy).

It's good to see the band confident enough in their new direction and sound to plunder so much from it live during the first few weeks of release. Of the new material, next single 'Guilt' has impressively stealthy appeal, 'The Couples' stands out more live than it does on record, the mesmerising motorik mayhem of 'Round The Hairpin' really roars into life at the midpoint of the set, while 'Here Comes The Serious Bit' combines the best bits of both Long Blondes phases to pleasingly raucous effect. And 'Century' remains drop-dead gorgeous, one of the songs of the year so far, in its precise, glacial appropriation of the Blondie of 'Fade Away And Radiate', 'Rapture' and 'Call Me'. The bold, clear lines of the latest Long Blondes deserves just rewards now, before cheaper, tackier copies start flooding the market.

Still Smokin'

StrangeTime, The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Friday March 14 2008, 9pm.

This is your bashful blogger's first venture into The Rainbow since staggering in for some much needed grub during the Supersonic Festival back in 2005. It's a longer walk from New Street than remembered, so just as well there's long-suffering Toon Army trouper Ben along for company during the hefty stride to the venue. It's a big sprawling pub that's had something of a makeover in the intervening three years, and the bands play in what clearly used to be a backyard with a new roof, with an adjoining can bar and an open-plan kitchen area where burgers and other hot sundries are being cooked.

It is, of course, not just the beef patties and onion strips sizzling once Kate Finch and StrangeTime arrive on stage in bold, if slightly belated, fashion. Technical issues with distortion pedals are brushed to one side as they launch into 'Profile' (aka their 'MySpace song' with the lines 'so you've guessed/I'm self-obsessed') from their new ep, and yet as technically impressive as some of their new songs are, it's one of their oldest tunes, 'Ex-Boyfriend', given an extra roar of feeling tonight that someone's ears must be burning (and we don't mean from the barbecue smoke, either) that seems to get the neutrals right behind them. Our normally reliable source, the good General Hubbub, advises us the band have won quite a few new friends tonight with no prisoners taken (including John's drumstick at one point) during a feisty, fiery set.

Ben and your hurrying hack then need to make a fairly hasty exit to Wok'n'Roll, a cosy, boutique Chinese restaurant with a karaoke adjunct, to say a boisterous bon voyage to Alison who's escaping her role as occasional gig-going companion to your socially-challenged so-and-so for a new life in Bristol. We hope the local shops have had advance warning to stock up on Haribo!

Now we know what you're thinking, it's all very well for Dead Kenny to go on hobnobbing hi-jinks in intimate, fashionable ethnic eateries, but what about the other bands on the StrangeTime bill that we've casually left in the lurch of potential internet obscurity? Luckily then for your unreliable uberpundit the good Baron has swooped into view to review the whole fandangle and ensure the completists aren't hard up for comprehensive content. Huzzah!

Club Class

MGMT/Virgin Passages, Bar Academy, Birmingham, Monday March 3 2008, 8.45pm.
Yeasayer/Everett, Bar Academy, Birmingham, Wednesday March 5 2008, 8.15pm.

Two hotly-tipped Brooklyn bands on the brink of success with their newly-released debut albums touring the same level of venues at exactly the same time in the UK - did they not think about a co-headlining tour in bigger venues and thus bigger payola? Maybe they don't get on, or perhaps they do and it's just record/management company politics that prevented this good idea happening, and thus they're pining for each other as they plot parallel paths up and down the country?

Still, with the two gigs separated by two days we do get the bonus of additional support bands. Getting things warmed up for MGMT are Staffordshire's Virgin Passages whose strange, hypnotic take on alt.folk may find favour with fans of The Besnard Lakes and Low. Their songs rustle with rustic charm but with sufficient undertow of weirdness and menace to keep things interesting, even if your drooling diarist finds himself distracted by the delightful Davina Stevens' O-face as she coos her backing vox. It's perhaps not the right crowd tonight to fully appreciate the subtleties of what Virgin Passages are doing, but 'This Is Not The End Of The World' particularly impresses, their new ep 'Distances' (out now on Fire Records) is a keeper, and Davina and Kate are charming, engaging company from our brief conversation at the end of the night.

Meanwhile, Yeasayer's planned support, all-girl goth-poppers Ipso Facto, cancel on the night and local lads Everett from nearby Dudley are drafted in at the last minute. Their polite keyboard-driven pop-rock will draw obvious comparisons with the likes of Coldplay and Keane, and while it's tempting to suggest that times have moved on since those bands were in their pomp, their tunes are strong enough that given sufficient airplay they might just have a chance, particularly if they focus on the more energetic numbers which give them more opportunity to transcend their antecedents.

With brilliant new single 'Time To Pretend' (a Parallax Jukebox favourite for weeks now) out in the shops on the day of the gig and accumulating airplay as fast as Dead Kenny develops rockstar crushes MGMT are already too big a proposition for the Bar Academy, evidenced by the fact there seems twice as many people here than is usual for sell-out shows. Surprisingly, live the duo are augmented to a fairly standard band set-up, but while there's nothing particularly remarkable about their presentation, the confidence with which they drop the huge breakthrough bomb that's 'Time To Pretend' just second track in does indeed signpost exceptional belief.

Curiously, the tactic works, because it releases the tension that otherwise builds up to the song everyone knows, and also gives the crowd no other option but to give some time and attention to the rest of the band's tunes. Having snagged an import copy of 'Oracular Spectacular' in HMV Reading the prior weekend, your calm correspondent knows the cockiness isn't misplaced, the first five tracks on the album being one of the strongest sequence of tunes released this decade, two of those tracks - 'The Youth' and 'Kids' providing the encores which finally allow band and audience alike to drop their cool and start to party.

On Wednesday, Yeasayer have the advantage of their debut platter 'All Hour Cymbals' being in circulation for a few months now, meaning more people are likely to be here for the music than the buzz alone, and their dress sense of vests, ponytails and straggly beards is likely to scare away the fickle fashionista. All the better for the rest of us to lock into their groove-based rock which is difficult to describe without sounding wanky, but trust your happy hack when he says it just simply works. At once mellow and urgent, the music has the soothing qualities of feelgood muzak without ever lapsing into smugness, complacency or schmaltz, and never forgets to keep you moving, 'Wait For The Summer' particularly standing out on the night.

The lead singer convulses as if the tunes are being wrenched from deep inside his gut, as if exorcised by Max Von Sydow or something. This is more remarkable when you consider that rather than howls of angst, he's producing something so melodic that it's as if he's suffering from a kind of tuneful Tourette's. It's an impassioned, exhausting performance all-round from the band, and while MGMT execute drop-dead tunes with remarkable precision, you don't have to be a yes-man to concur that Yeasayer possess something even more precious: they're simply made of the right stuff.

Songs To Learn And Sing

The School/Somebody's Mind/The Screenbeats, Oakford Social Club, Reading, Saturday March 1 2008, 8.30pm.

Your carousing correspondent has visited Oakford Social Club before, but this is the first time, in the company of Raimundo, that we've seen bands here. It's an unusual set-up, in that rather than playing in upstairs or downstairs areas, the groups play on a bandstand centre-pub with general drinking/eating areas either side. With this being a free gig, the benefits to the bands are that they have the incentive of drawing in passing punters who've just popped in for a pint.

You couldn't blame Newbury's The Screenbeats for wanting to partake in some alcoholic sustenance themselves, given the technical glitches that bedevil and foreshorten their set. Vocalist Faye has a fashionably big, bold voice which drives forward songs of a definite 60s-leaning sound and we certainly heard enough to make us want to re-investigate them at a happier time. Tilehill's Somebody's Mind also owe something of a debt to the 60s, but their psychedelic rock takes us on a much wilder ride, albeit with a sound sense of melody intact. Raimundo definitely approves.

Without wishing to sound like Teacher's Pet, however, we're only really here for The School, who, despite being a guitarist down due to transport snafus, chalk up another brief but successful showcase for their spangly pop gems. In contrast to their Autumn Store show last November, Liz is centre-stage where she should be, but also the whole band seem to be operating with an extra sheen of polish and confidence despite the unplanned axeman absence.

Although their songs have an undeniable 60s girl-group feel it's not just nostalgia that's at the heart of The School's appeal. Tracks like Summer's Here and All I Wanna Do have the delicious soft, sweet texture but added zing and sharpness of the perfect lemon mousse, with the robust quality of the songcraft providing the biscuit base, the structure that holds everything together and prevents what otherwise could be a gooey mess in less expert hands. Like the Oliver we are, we cry for more, but for now we must settle for this tantalising aperatif before we receive our just desserts of record releases and a full tour in the spring and summer. But we do get a quick chat with Liz herself, and co-organiser Dawn, who are as glamorous, friendly, and downright lovely as you could wish for, before the Newcastle Browns finally kick in for your tipsy tipster and hometime beckons.

Also, thanks to Painterman DJs for spinning the discs between bands, and Sam Dinsmore for taking some great gig photos.

24-Carat Duality

Tegan and Sara, The Cockpit, Leeds, Wednesday August 15 2007, 8pm.
Tegan and Sara, Wulfrun Hall, Wolverhampton, Monday February 25 2008, 8pm.

Well, this is a first. As your calm correspondent is patiently waiting at the merch stand in the Wulfrun to get a view of bright, colourful, fun support band Northern State's CD, a young female audience member points at me and cries out aghast, 'Oh MY GOD! Is that a MAN?!'. Last time we looked, ma'am, last time we looked. And last time we checked, lesbianism was a sexual orientation and not an exclusive musical genre, with sapphic siblings Tegan and Sara's tunes surely too good to stay locked in a clique? It's a situation perhaps uncomfortable for band and fans alike as they move to bigger venues and more curious crowds, with Sara making comments that the sound of male fans calling for their songs was kinda scary.

Contrast this with their show at Leeds six month earlier, a gig for which we didn't get time to post a review of at the time. Supported by a singer-songwriter wearing a Captain America shield they seemed much more relaxed with a more obviously out crowd at a smaller venue sold-out on internet sales alone, playing with audience expectations by stating loud and proud how much they loved cock (by way of rebuke to an asinine comment in an NME review) even though their sapphic supporters seemed much less sure when asked to express their own attitudes toward the male genitalia. It seemed at the time an inclusive move of acceptance to a wider, more polysexual fanbase, so it's sad to report signs of a possible regression in attitude during the intervening period. Particularly as the songs are still good, and many of them rock hard live, '19' 'Dark Come Soon' and 'Like O Like h' from latest album 'The Con' particularly burning bright on the night.

Gig Review Ketchup

Blood Red Shoes/Lovvers, Little Civic, Wolverhampton, Monday February 4 2008, 8.30pm.
Betty & The Id/Liechtenstein/Horowitz , The Autumn Store, Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham, Thursday February 7 2008, 9pm.
Los Campesinos!/Johnny Foreigner, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Wednesday February 13 2008, 8.45pm.

Worcester-sourced Lovvers offer a grunge-flavoured brand of post-punk with plenty of energy, noise, attitude and charisma, but not much in the way of memorable tunes, though their champions would no doubt argue melodies aren't exactly their point. As for the main band, it's a case of Blood Red A-tishoos rather than Blood Red Shoes as Laura-Mary has a terrible cold and has lost her voice, leaving the drummer Steven to carry out all the vocal chores. Given that a large part of the bands' appeal is the vocal interplay between the two it says a lot for the quality of their pop hooks that the gig remains a success despite this aspect being muted. And rumours that your cold remedy-carrying correspondent was found wandering the backstage area looking for Laura-Mary while lugging a lorryload of Vicks will remain unconfirmed.

Another band who've taken so long to get their debut album out that a backlash has started before it comes out (common factor: the stewardship of V2 Records) are Cardiff's Los Campesinos!. Said record Hold On Now, Youngster! has been slated in some parts for it's one (helter-skelter) pace, but live, that's a big part of the fun, and that criticism seems as harsh as Gareth's new haircut. 'You! Me! Dancing!' remains as exhilarating as ever, although perhaps it's a sign of our increasing old age that as we look on at all the crowdsurfing (Gareth, at one point, included) the security guy looks so much cooler in his disaffected manner than the giddy youths he's trying to control and protect.

Earlier, Johnny Foreigner hardly put a foot wrong musically with scorching guitar and rat-a-tat vocal interplay we've become accustomed to from their brilliant 'Arcs Across The City' mini-album, tonight's show also including the currently-fashionable Pavement cover. But as The Prykemeister has noted, their banter needs a bit of work, with the entreaty to buy enough merchandise to help get them out of Birmingham destined to work anywhere but the Second City itself. Then again, maybe that was their joke.

In between these gigs, ventured into a packed-out Autumn Store night at the Sunflower Lounge. Stoke-On-Trent's Horowitz are a little odd-looking and have their technical difficulties, but neither factor can detract from the simple pop beauty of their tunes, with an extra layer of guitar fuzz live adding to the lovely warmth of gems like 'Pop Kids Of The World Unite!'. Sweden's Liechtenstein were one of our Music Tips of 2008, and the all-girl group from Gothenburg don't disappoint, entrancing the audience with their shiny-eyed charm and intricate, engaging songcraft. We recommend that you track down debut single 'Stalking Skills' with immediate and stealthy effect. Local band Betty & The Id were late additions to the bill, and not what you might call traditional Autumn Store fayre, but with the drinks starting to kick in, their driven brand of drone-rock gave the evening a happy head-nodding finish.

Parallax View Gigs Of The Year 2007

What makes a great gig? The tunes, the chutzpah, the charisma, the company, or the ambience? Or maybe a combination of all those factors? But in 2007, many promoters hit upon a cunning ingredient: just let 'em eat cake...

1. BEESTUNG LIPS! @Supersonic, Custard Factory, Birmingham (July)
2. Rilo Kiley @Carling Academy 2, Birmingham (August)
3. Interpol @Carling Academy, Birmingham (August)
4. Los Campesinos!/Sky Larkin/Johnny Foreigner/Kate Goes @Barfly, Birmingham (March)
5. Mika Miko/No Age @Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham (June)
6. StrangeTime/Cellardoor/Sub Rosa @Actress & Bishop, Birmingham (October)
7. The Cribs @Carling Academy, Birmingham (October)
8. Monarch! @Supersonic, Custard Factory, Birmingham (July)
9. Emily Haines @Glee Club, Birmingham (June)
10. I'm From Barcelona @Carling Academy 2, Birmingham (September)
11. The School @Island Bar, Birmingham (November)
12. Kings Of Leon @Birmingham NIA (December)
13. Maps @Summer Sundae, Leicester (August)
14. The Fiery Furnaces @Barfly, Birmingham (November)
15. The Whip @Summer Sundae, Leicester (August)

Silence Means This Much To Me

Emma Pollock/Derek Meins, The Little Civic, Wolverhampton, Wednesday November 28 2007, 8.30pm.

On arrival at the venue your chilled correspondent finds the Little Civic space has been slightly transformed since our last visit, with benches, tables and stools in what is normally a standing area. This impromptu restyling gives it the feel of something akin to a church hall, albeit with stray copies of The Fly in place of The Bible. The cosy feel continues with the unprepossessing figure of Derek Meins ambling on stage and launching into an a capella number unprompted and unannounced.

Derek, a legendary poet on his own MySpace page, accompanies himself on guitar for much of the rest of his support set which seeks to distinguish itself from the rest of the folkish singer-songwriting canon through off-kilter verbiage in the lyrics and some 'performance art' stylings that stop the audience from sitting too comfortably. This is most notable in a song called something like 'People Love Fucking' in which Derek comes over all Smeg Ryan by stopping mid-song to fake some orgasms. It's a performance sure to polarise opinions, but you can't argue he's not a bit different.

The first time your ageing altruist saw Emma Pollock was at a Delgados gig upstairs at the nearby Varsity around the time of their 'Peloton' release about ten years ago. Was one of the first gigs your socially-challenged scribe attended on his Jack Jones since college days so it sticks in the mind longer than it appears to have stayed with Emma, who says she can't remember ever playing here, and asks the audience if anybody had ever seen The Delgados play in Wolverhampton. Silence is the reply, because unlike the rather excitable young gentleman all too keen to share his Buckfast experiences with anybody who'll listen, your bashful blogger is as ever all too determined to keep a lower profile than Inch High Private Eye.

Towards the end of their reasonably successful career The Delgados had seemed to reach a stage under the influences of Dave Fridmann where their songs were being produced beyond bursting point, the subtleties and intricacies of the songwriting struggling to make themselves heard under the radio-friendly bombast. Emma's solo debut 'Watch The Fireworks' (out now on 4AD Records) sees her liberated from those constraints to deliver smashing, unpretentious pop tunes with the sharp, sweet zing of a pure citrus blast yet still infused with enough elegance and melancholy to appeal to a wide range of tastes. First single 'Adrenaline' is one of this year's genuine pop thrills, a giddy, galloping tune to rank alongside the likes of 'Manic Monday' and The Breeders' 'Cannonball', although strangely it's the follow-up 'Acid Test' which is greeted with the most recognition and enthusiasm on the night.

In the intervening ten years since our first acquaintance, your humble hack had forgotten that Emma brushes up quite the fox, wearing a colourful summer dress over thick tights. She manages the stage banter pretty well, with the combination of slight cockiness and self-deprecation we've become accustomed to seeing particularly from the Scottish indie glitterati. She even manages to get away with the faux pas of describing Canadians The New Pornographers as Americans by later making a joke of it.

Her band also cut personable figures and play with a commitment not always seen in session musicians supporting a solo act, as they run through most of the fine album, starting with 'If Silence Means That Much To You' and including strong showings from the graceful 'Limbs' and a swoonsome rendition of 'Fortune' and climaxing with the cautious hopefulness of 'The Optimist'. 'Watch The Fireworks' may have suffered from a slow start promotion-wise (Emma was touring the US with the aforementioned New Pornographers when the record was released in September) and may not have built enough momentum as yet to feature in many end-of-year best-of lists, but seeing the songs live, performed with charm and commitment, reinforces your blogger's belief it's one of this year's overlooked gems.

Finally, on leaving the venue, your hurrying hack notices that the gentleman sitting just behind him smelling of smoke is nobody other than the eccentric support act from earlier. And so, as ever, Dead Kenny was found to be living slightly beyond his Meins...

Title Contenders

The Duke Spirit/Creepy Morons, Barfly, Birmingham, Friday November 16 2007, 8.45pm.

So whatever happened to The Beatings? Seems like some of 'em, at any rate, turned out to be Creepy Morons. But Creepy Morons, nonetheless, who know how to thrash a decent tune from a fashionable two-piece unit of guitar and drums. It's a raw blend of blues and folk infused with a give-a-shit attitude and an instinctive feel for a pleasing groove. Definitely worth checking out.

Headliners The Duke Spirit are also old friends of Parallax View back on the scene, a band we've reviewed and reported on many an occasion since catching them support The Shins three and a half years ago. 'Fret not' advises singer Liela Moss, 'we're back and we've brought some new songs with us' and the band don't look back for the rest of the set, introducing a whole raft of new material (generally more melodic and of more varied pace than debut album Cuts Across The Land) as well as the usual live favourites like 'Red Weather' and 'Love Is An Unfamiliar Name'.

Sometimes you need to meet someone again to realise how much you've missed them, and that's the over-riding sensation your cheerful correspondent feels during a lively and enlivening set ring-led by the shamanic Moss cutting a cool and confident figure upfront to increasing appreciation from the sizeable crowd. 'We'll be back in the spring' advises Moss as they finally depart from the stage, which is yet another reason to wish the winter over with godspeed.

Fierys Excel Live!

The Fiery Furnaces, Barfly, Birmingham, Friday November 9 2007, 9.15pm.

The last time your crocked correspondent saw The Fiery Furnaces his arm was in a sling in what was then a fashionable wrist fracture. Tonight the limbs are all cosily correct and present, and have the added company of Ben, Jenni, Alison and The Prykemeister, for a gig that's perhaps not been as hotly-anticipated as expected given the sparse attendance which gives the Barfly tonight a cold, cavernous feel.

So maybe there's a touch of sarcasm in singer Eleanor Friedberger's voice when she advises that this could be the best night of her life, though there seems genuine warmth when she invites the collected audience to get right close to the stage so she can see our smiles. Thus the thrill of a packed house is replaced by the sensation of implied intimacy, something that no doubt would appeal to the average Fiery Furnaces fan given their cultish allure.

Eleanor and brother/songwriter/keyboard player Matthew are accompanied by Jason Lohwenstein on guitars and Bob D'Amico on drums and between them they manage a phat and feisty groove that helps propel their perverse and skittish material into the live arena. Eleanor's vocals are a large part of the band's appeal on record even if that isn't always reflected in the production mix, but in the flesh she dominates attention from the word go. All fringe, nose and jaw she's physically a curious combo of Zelda, Ringo Starr and Patti Smith and yet so much more compellingly attractive than that hotch-potch collage might sound. If she's pissed at the turnout it doesn't show in a performance where she seems at once lost in the music and yet passionately embracing every opportunity to connect with the audience through her smiling eyes and bewitching enthusiasm.

The first half of the set is almost exclusively taken from this autumn's Widow City collection, arguably their most consistently pleasing effort since their barnstorming debut Gallowsbird's Bark. Album opener 'The Philadelphia Grand Jury' is also used here to get things going, slowly but surely weaving the listener into their weird and twisted world, while there's also strong showings from 'Navy Nurse', 'Right By Conquest' and 'Restorative Beer'. 'My Egyptian Grammar' puts the high into hieroglyphics, while even the curious omission of the keyboard motif can't put your home-loving hack off his favourite 'Japanese Slippers'. Further into the set there's room for a couple of tracks from the unfairly-neglected 'Rehearsing My Choir', 'Single Again' morphs in and out of 'Don't Dance Me Down' (or is it the other way around?) while a call for requests elicits perhaps their best-known song 'Tropical Iceland' to be extracted from 'Gallowsbird's Bark'.

After the show, Eleanor is in engaging form with the fans that hang by. The Prykemeister tells her she's going to be a big star one day and gets his photo taken with her like the prime schmoozer he is. This just leaves time for a quick pint in The Anchor before catching the train, a brief but memorable Eruption* courtesy of the buxom barmaid giving full and satisfying meaning to the term 'restorative beer'...

*calm down, dear reader, this is simply a guest real ale courtesy of the Salopian Brewery!

School Daze

The Loves/The School/Richard Burke, The Autumn Store @ Island Bar, Suffolk St., Birmingham, Saturday November 3 2007, 9pm.

Various sources advertise the start of tonight's show as 7, 8 or 9pm, so take middle for diddle and head straight to the venue for 8, only to find out have an hour to kill before the bands start. Your stymied scribe opts for a pint of Guinness downstairs and browses the kindly-supplied latest issue of Fused Magazine in one of the window seats to kill some time.

Curiosity finally gets the better of your inquisitive idiot as he heads upstairs about 8.40pm to see what's going on. This is a one-off venue for The Autumn Store nights, which are normally held at the nearby Sunflower Lounge, and it's perhaps best described as a smaller, airier version of Bar Academy with additional boutique trimmings of cake and balloons provided by the promoters giving it the feel of an inclusive private party.

Richard Burke gets things started with a solo acoustic set, although a little help from his friends is needed at various intervals. Richard needs some technical support here and there for the surprising number of glitches for an acoustic set, one of his mates steps in to supply between-song banter, while approximately half of the numbers are written by other people. What Richard does provide himself however is a charming singing voice and a distinctive guitar sound, so things still get off to a promising start.

Head Schoolma'am Liz also supplies keyboard and vox for The Loves, but tonight's jam in the sandwich provides substantial enough fare to be considered worthy of a main course in future. Wishing to sound pretentious your boastful blogger's been into The School since their early demos first appeared on MitherSpace, but it's reassuring to see them perform their pop nuggets in just as charming and beguiling manner as we'd anticipated.

How you react to them may depend on how you feel about the fact that what looks like a toy xylophone is the most prominent instrument stage-front. And yet no manner of self-effacing humour, twee stylings and humility can disguise the fact that Liz's songs are expertly crafted gems set to glisten for many Christmas Futures to come. You'd be mad fool to consider yourself too cool for The School who've recently signed to Elefant Records and look set to reveal their playground mysteries to the wider world come 2008.

The Loves are long enough in the tooth to have done Peel sessions in the past, and offer an artier, edgier indiepop sound with much more obvious rock attitude on display than the support acts. Sadly, however, your time-poor troublemaker has to miss a goodly portion of their set to dash for the last train home, so unfortunately it's a case of The Loves' labours lost upon me...

Ghouls Allowed

StrangeTime/Cellardoor/Sub Rosa, Actress and Bishop, Ludgate Hill, Birmingham, Saturday October 27 2007, 9pm.

Deep into the Jewellery Quarter and just off St Paul's Square, the upstairs venue at the Actress & Bishop is packed with people in various sorts of fancy dress for this hotly-anticipated three-act Hallowe'en show curated by those fine StrangeTime folk. Your discreet diarist decides against fancy dress as such, but dressed in black and with mad, staring eyes intact if fairly boggled, opts for the scary blogger guise that has served him so well over the years.

With Prykemeister and the lovely Bex also in attendance amongst an attractive, knowledgeable crowd, it's a decent turnout for Leicester's Sub Rosa's inaugural live show in the Second City. Bedecked in assorted blood-splattered gear that gives them the appearance of Re-Animator extras the lead singer is at pains to stress that they don't normally look like this. But when they summon a steady succession of blood-curdling riffs savage enough to waken the dead from an eternity of spiritual slumber maybe they protest too much. Very impressive stuff indeed.

There's something a bit different about Andrew from Cellar Door since last time our paths crossed, but your clueless correspondent can't quite put his finger on it. Ah yes, it'll be the wig, glasses, fake boobs and skirt, of course! But it's a quick change from Doubtfire to Surefire as the group's early pretty Mogwai-isms make way for something a little more fluid, woozy and dare we say it, funky, as comparisons to Tortoise and Krautrock become more apparent. The crowd are starting to sway, anyway, and it can't be the alcohol given the under-resourced bar. Andrew's clearly a man who knows how to catch the eye of the barman, however, as he cheerfully announces that he's so drunk he's forgotten the outro to their penultimate number.

Head downstairs in search of readier alcohol and emerge back upstairs to find have just missed the first song in StrangeTime's set. Guitarist/vocalist Kate Finch has her pageboy cut submerged underneath a Cleopatra wig that's fetching enough to tempt your lamebrained lothario to make a damn silly asp of himself, while bassist Chris and drummer John settle for a subtly blood-splattered look. But then the band once described as the scariest in the West Midlands clearly don't need to try too hard to terrify, particularly with songs like 'Personality Disorder' and new song 'Profile' sinister enough to psych out the most laid-back of listeners.

There's something slightly different about the band tonight - maybe it's the fancy dress liberating them from self-consciousness, the headline status at a packed show giving them greater self-esteem, or simply the confidence that comes from playing regularly and the burgeoning inter-band chemistry thus generated - but perhaps it's only appropriate that at a Hallowe'en ball StrangeTime have genuinely arrived.

Jeremy Gawp

Maps/Jeremy Warmsley, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Saturday October 6 2007, 7.30pm.

In what is becoming something of an increasingly self-referential Parallax View trend your chaotic correspondent arrives at the venue just as the first support act finish the last song of their set. All we can relate is that there are quite a few of them and they made a pleasing post-rock din but due to the on-the-go demands of the weekend (the gig is sandwiched in between the Villa v West Ham game and going to see the Ian Curtis biopic) don't get the chance to do the research to find out who they are. Parallax View is very, very sorry.

There's something naggingly familiar about the second act as he makes his meek but quietly assured way to the stage, and your hapless hack lets his face drop slightly on the realisation it's Jeremy Warmsley again, who we've seen twice before (at Summer Sundae and supporting I'm From Barcelona) in the last seven weeks. Now the problem with the fact that there's a sparse attendance so far at the venue is that you're a little exposed to the artist and embarrassingly Jez seems to clock my aghast expression and keeps a close eye on me for the rest of the show.

If this ensures your busted blogger remains on his best behaviour the same can't be said for a young man at the front who'd obviously started the pre-gig celebrations a little earlier than perhaps he should, and is sadly making a bit of a dickhead of himself. Warmsley asks him to behave himself and then heads to the barrier and has a quiet word in his ear while keeping an eagle eye on your studious scribe at the same time. We called on our lip-reading expertise and can advise with no degree of certainty whatsoever that what he said to the unfortunate young man in question was 'see that bloke over there, you're going to end up in his blog if you're not careful'. These wise words don't appear to do the trick, however, and Jez justifiably drops his calm reasonableness for a marvellously stroppy 'oh, just FUCK OFF!' instead, before finally security takes the matter out of his hands and escorts the nuisance off the premises.

Perhaps it's the distracting circumstances making us more pre-disposed to giving Jezza a fair hearing, but we find ourselves enjoying his show a bit more at the third time of asking. He seems to get the balance right between the slower and jauntier numbers, but does frustrate us with telling us there's a good joke hidden in the lyrics of one of his songs, because your attention-deficited amateur just can't concentrate for long enough to get it.

Troubling eye contact isn't an issue with main act Maps as they make the sort of symphonies that induce your blissed-out blogger to close his eyes and wig-out to the pulsating waves of sonic splendour. There are people who get paid decent money for writing about music who'd have you believe that Maps can't cut it in the relatively uncharted uncharted territories of the live arena, but take it as read from this Parallax Viewer these idiots don't know what they're talking about. If tunes like 'Eloise' and 'It Will Find You' can inspire this unco-ordinated upstart to shake a limb then these rhythms are chancers that will prove that fortune always favours the brave. Top marks for the roadie wearing a Medium 21 t-shirt as well - further proof that not everything coming out of Northampton is cobblers.

Related Link: Sweeping The Nation's Friendly Chat With...Jeremy Warmsley from last year. He's had a haircut since then, mind.

Ouch! My Cribs!

The Cribs/Bobby Conn, Carling Academy, Birmingham, Friday October 5 2007, 7.30pm.

Hmm...we're having difficulty relating to The Cribs' audience. Here at Parallax View we're used to rough business, heck in our pugnacious youth we even occasionally started some, but it's the squealing, squabbling and tag-team stampeding up and down the staircases that's leaving your hassled hack yearning for the days when ADHD was just plain cheatin' at scrabble. So seek solace in support act Bobby Conn whose lively set of pseudo-glam stomp is entertaining without providing much in the way of memorable tunage. Instead it's their matching bleached-denim jackets and the female violinist (the delightfully-named Monica BouBou) who seems to have a smile for each and every one of the massed crowd which stick in the mind.

Don't mind admitting that, prior to 2007, Parallax View paid scant attention to Wakefield's The Cribs but triumphant third album 'Mens Needs, Womens Needs, Whatever' shrugged our ambivalence aside with its cocksure combination of catchy tunes, rough charm, US alt. influences and indie insularity sweeping all aside to be our favourite new album of the year at the half-term point. It seems like we've been waiting all our lives for a band to come along and confirm the previously-unspoken truth that the essence of evil is revealed in the continuing worldwide success of Razorlight.

For all their louche demeanour The Cribs put on a pretty tight set, getting on with the business of provoking the crowd to jump up and down as often and as quickly as possible, with 'I'm A Realist'; 'Moving Pictures' and an awesome 'Ancient History' particularly standing out on the night. Towards the end Ryan Jarman moves to the back of the stage, removes his shirt and then takes a huge running jump right over the barricades, launching himself like the loon he is into the moshing masses. Before you can say 'aw, that's gotta hurt!' the security staff are leading his limp, lifeless frame back stage, although somewhat predictably a mere minute later a lazarus-like recovery sees him back on stage for 'Shoot The Poets'. The bad news, then, is that Kate Nash is still taken...

The Wrong Kind Of Leaving

The Departure/The Brite Lites/Guile, Barfly, Birmingham, Tuesday October 2 2007, 8pm.

As your garrulous guide makes his way to the Barfly venue his thoughts are occupied with one question: does anyone remember The Departure anymore, let alone care? Their debut 2005 platter 'Dirty Words' garnered many a play on our mp3 player, so much so it made Parallax View's Top 30 for that year, but it was a notable commercial flop which led to the sudden exit of the band's lead guitarist and questions asked as to whether they'd be dropped by their label.

Surprisingly, then, find that the venue is fairly heaving, possibly tempted by the fact that the first 50 punters through the door got themselves a free 7", or maybe drawn in by two local bands playing in support. Cannock's Guile make a pleasing drone-rock racket as we weave our way to the bar, but sadly this is the last track of their set so we make a mental note to be Guile-d in more detail at a later date. Birmingham's The Brite Lites immediately get your lank-locked layabout worrying - to wit, surely it's not time again so soon for crew cuts to be back in fashion? There's something short-back-and-sides about their radio-friendly sound too, sounding like Ryan Adams attempting to plagiarise the Radiohead back catalogue, and the result is intermittently interesting and foot-tapping but towards the end you sense the interest around you starting to dim.

The Departure bound on stage in confident mood, and the new, almost impossibly fresh-faced, guitarist seems to settle down well enough in a set that is liberally sprinkled with tasters from their new album (due early 2008) plus the best stuff from 'Dirty Words' like 'Lump In My Throat' and 'Talk Show'. The new material sounds interesting and immediate, and there may yet be commercial mileage in their more accessible take on regurgitating the early 80s sound - in truth, they probably owe more to Depeche Mode than they do Joy Division and that could be an important distinction when trying to find their niche. The show seems to go down well with the crowd, anyway, so all the more curious that the group dispense with an encore despite hoarse entreaties to get themselves back on stage. Curfew or fuck-you issues? We're not entirely sure.

Still, have a bit of time to spare before the last train to sink down another pint as the Barfly club night slowly but surely whirrs into a flurry of activity. Upon leaving, however, your conscientious correspondent finds himself walking behind the band as they lug their equipment up stairs. It's clearly your helpful hack's seasoned roadie reflexes he falls back upon when one of their cases slips off and he picks it up in one fell swoop with a cheery 'whoops!'. Clearly overwhelmed by their evening's performance the band don't skip a beat, presumably having lost count of their number and mistaken your nonchalant nincompoop for a fifth member. At the top of the stairs, the singer turns with some bewilderment to find the said case handed over to him by a bemused blogger rather than a recognised compadre. Congratulating him on a good gig, we return his changed expression of utter disdain with our own practised shrug as we pace off in to the distance. We may have only been a member of The Departure for about seven seconds but we still know how to make a sharp exit.

The Shape Of Flynn To Come

In Like Flynn, The Haygate, Wellington, Telford, Friday September 28 2007, 10pm.

A fairly regular sight and sound on the Shropshire pub circuit in the early to mid-Nineties were In Like Flynn (aka Millennia) whose dark and powerful lyrics were welded to a fusion of grunge, epic rock postures and Chili Peppers funk to produce a highly danceable cocktail with broad appeal for the county's gig-going public. Your chummy correspondent has known the singer Tim Dwyer and bassist George Willetts for over fifteen years so decided it was about time we recorded something about their recently-embarked-upon comeback trail over here on Parallax View.

Free entrance on the door ensured a decent turnout, a combination of old fans and curious new folk producing a hubbub of anticipation as the DJ sets the period mood with songs including Soundgarden's 'Black Hole Sun' and Pearl Jam's 'Alive' getting us ready for angst-ridden bombast. Relishing the solo slot, In Like Flynn play a longer set than normal, allowing for a couple of new originals and some different covers in addition to songs like 'All Fall Down'; 'Driven' and 'To Be Like You' that have proven to be robust staples to the band's setlist for more than a decade. There are two main revelations to the evening - first surprise being the inclusion of a new member, Keith (The Beef) Hatton, adding muscle to the sound on rhythm guitar, the second being the instant gratification supplied by one of the brand new songs, 'Sea Of Titan' a fast, jangly number with a strong chorus that might give their second coming a timely kickstart. What comes as less surprise is the tightness of the sound throughout with guitarist Del Jones and drummer Clive Beasley completing the line-up with their customary aplomb.

What ILF do best is to get an audience on their feet and start dancing, and by the end of the night fans old and new seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves. While Dead Kenny recognises that Tim & Co. have loftier ambitions in terms of their lyrical content and career aims than keeping Telford's dancefloors busy it would be useful for them to build up a strong and resilient local fanbase as a platform and the only way that's going to happen is through the sheer hard work of putting regular gigs on and putting these shifts in alongside their existing travel, relationship and burgeoning business interests. On past experience that's going to be a challenge for them but the great reception they received at The Haygate should provide them with the necessary spur to build momentum for their cause. If the rest of the new material matches up to the corking standard of 'Sea of Titan' the tide may yet be ready to turn in their favour.

Closely Observed Trains

iLiKETRAiNS/Shady Bard, Barfly, Birmingham, Monday September 17 2007, 8pm.

This isn't the first time Dead Kenny has seen the improbably capitalized iLiKETRAiNS but it *is* the first time your timetable-troubled tinker has ended up reviewing them. Saw them last year playing alongside London's The Early Years and Birmingham's own Grandscope and your wondering writer did start a review in his head along the lines of how the bands all sounded great but it couldn't be classed as a great gig because of the palpable lack of atmosphere and crowd interaction, musing further about whether this was due to a lacking from the bands or the audience's own shortcomings - to wit, do post-rock groups get the distant, aloof crowds they deserve? Sounds a bit pretentious, we guess, so perhaps it's just as well it never saw light of push-button publishing.

But anyway, we're getting ahead of ourselves here, as there's the not inconsiderable matter of support band Shady Bard to contemplate. Due to scheduling difficulties your dopey diarist only managed to catch one of their songs at this year's Supersonic but it was enough to pique our interest, and knowing that they're a local band astutely guessed it wouldn't be too long before we'd get the chance to study them at greater length and closer detail. Just two months on we were proved right as here they are providing intense and intriguing support on the Barfly stage. The lead singer is a strange sort, oscillating wildly between cockiness and awkwardness, but with a deep rich voice not unlike the lead vox from the main act. The musical palette is much more varied, however, with SB being another project making fulsome use of classical instrumentation and folk-ish stylings, touches here and there recalling Arcade Fire, British Sea Power and Tindersticks, but the resulting mix proving suitably dark and distinctive. They could yet prove to be Best Midlands' most beguiling prospect.

A good year on from the release of 2006's often astonishing mini-LP 'Progress Reform' things seem to have derailed slightly for iLiKETRAiNS, despite the imminent release of their first full-length proper (out on Monday October 1st, record release fact fans). They're again technically impressive, mixing up material well between familiar stuff from 'Progress Reform' and tasters off the new record but it all leaves your chin-stroking correspondent strangely cold and uninvolved. The group have ditched their British Rail uniforms but do still provide a visual backdrop to their elegiac efforts as if in acknowledgement to the fact their earnest endeavours otherwise lack for visual spectacle, while the new songs all seem to have their moments but lack the hooks (on first listening, at least) to compel purchase of their latest offering.

So on the whole found the experience mildly depressing and decided I liked trains enough to catch the next one home rather than waiting for the encore.

So You Guessed I'm Self-Obsessed

StrangeTime/The Elements/Reverie, Artsfest, Birmingham, Saturday September 15 2007, 2pm.

We don't know much about Artsfest but this much we like: free culture in a city near us, so who's complaining? While there's justifiable grumbles about poor organisation and inadequate communications we do get a second chance to see Reverie on the Kerrang FM stage after getting our first taste of them supporting The Kissaway Trial in Shrewsbury back in July. Perhaps it's the sun on our backs but we enjoy their mellow take on acoustic folk with a classical twist much more this time, even though they do seem to be puzzling the tourists somewhat.

On to the Custard Factory to catch up with StrangeTime who are playing the main stage there. Every StrangeTime live experience appears to have a distinctive element and this is no exception with the swimming pool filled in post-Supersonic giving an added water feature. Add in the baking sun and sound guys who look like acid-fried casualties and we could almost be in Ibiza, with Kate Finch & Co. supplying the rocks. There's another cock-up start to the rather ace new song they debuted at the Barfly gig and a girl on the pool edge only just manages to get the lens cap off in time to get the video footage rolling. We also get a brand new song about narcissistic Mitherspace fiends which features the rather excellent couplet 'So you guessed/I'm self-obsessed' while 'Personality Disorder' manages the seemingly impossible by sounding even better than last time we heard it.

Hang around a bit afterwards to glug Guinness and cappuccinos while chatting to Kate, John, Chris, Sarah Accident from Violet Beauregarde and aspiring stand-up comedian/poet Henry while listening to The Elements' slightly-better-than-competent-but-slightly-less-than-exciting back-to-basics Britpop. Also learn a valuable lesson in post-gig ligging - never volunteer for helping shift the band's kit, you'll always end up lugging the most awkward bag, but we get our reward with a pint in Scruffy's and the discovery that your correspondent's beloved Hammers have whelped the 'Boro 3-0 to register our first home victory of the season!

Related links:
RussL delivers his in-depth Artsfest verdict.
Pete Ashton asks: How Was *Your* Artsfest?.

Spanish I's Are Smiling

I'm From Barcelona, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Monday September 10 2007.

Maybe it's 'cos it's Monday, maybe it's 'cos your mardy mitherer is a misanthropist at heart, or maybe it's 'cos your late-running linkdumper's tragi-comic lack of organisational skills sees the last conceivably viable train streaked with the scrapings of the skin of his teeth, but your jaded jobsworth has definitely felt more up for a gig than tonight, despite our lingering love for last year's long-player 'Let Me Introduce My Friends'.

Wander into the venue in time to catch the last few numbers from Jeremy Warmsley but sadly we haven't warmed to his wannabe-Wainwright warblings any more than when we caught his show at Summer Sundae last month. It's all very technically proficient but leaves us colder than a frigid igloo, so it's lucky the half-empty venue means at least we can get served our beer much quicker than normal.

This might have just as much to do with the fact that many attending are clearly better prepared for the I'm From Barcelona live experience than your clueless correspondent, because from the moment the supernaturally splendid Swedes burst into 'Treehouse' on stage, the barrage of balloons and confetti released in the Academy is best enjoyed as 'hands-free' entertainment. Even a lithe leopard like your supple scribe struggles not to spill his beverage while flicking a balloon up with one foot and punching it into the air with his fist in a dizzying display of dexterity doomed to descend into dampness.

No such squibs on stage with your unusually curmudgeonly correspondent eventually bullied into bonhomie by the band's good-natured banter and stout-hearted harmonies. Ginger-bearded singer Emanuel Lundgren bemoans the fact that the Birmingham crowd are balloon-murderers but a look around at the grins and bouncing limbs of the crowd and it's clear that the burst vessels are more to do with the Academy's low roof than any murderous intent amongst the mild-mannered massive. Lundgren dedicates 'Oversleeping' to the next morning's hangover, there's a mirthful mosh to instant anthem 'We're From Barcelona' and an impromptu kazoo orchestra corralled on stage for the contagious 'Chicken Pox', all making for a memorable evening from initially less-than-promising circumstances.

Kiley Contagious

Rilo Kiley, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Friday August 31 2007.

On the first couple of listens to Rilo Kiley's fourth album 'Under The Backlight' it's astonishing just how much they've streamlined and mainstreamed their sound since 'More Adventurous' which itself was a record considered compromised by purist fans of their early efforts like 'Execution Of All Things'. The new album may be being snubbed by indie snobs, but to these ears it's a case of 'Less Adventurous, Maybe, But Certainly More Fun'. The guilty pleasure that keeps on giving, its addictive qualities not so curious given the fact that, notions of image and attitude aside, this is simply the best collection of songs released all year to date. Frankly, the oft-referenced Fleetwood Mac were only ever this good in their dreams.

Jenny Lewis & Co. certainly seem to be having a blast with it at the Birmingham gig, the sense of fun spreading through the crowd where people are too busy grinning with o'erflowin' good nature to care too much that there's limited material from their best-known record 'More Adventurous'. Your short-arsed scribe suffers from a somewhat restricted view during the first few songs, but as the lightweights and thirsty souls filter out, get a better view of Jenny and reflect how much more relaxed in her skin she seems compared to the previous performances we've seen (at 2005's Wireless Fest and her show last year with the Watson Twins at the Glee Club). With a voice as sweet and strong as the perfect cuppa tea, and the visual combination of a fresh face with an undeniable dirty glint in her eye she's unquestionably the killer app that will keep giving Rilo Kiley currency as long as they want/need it.

Once again, the sexual allusions and metaphors that litter the lyrics like club flyers on a late night's city streets have dominated the reviews but there's more to the band than Fleetwood Wack and compared to your average metal and rap acts the references to braless dancing girls and oral sex are pretty tame, and only stirring lather due to them coming out of Jenny's honeyed larynx. There's no doubt the band are having much fun relating their relaxed handle on sexual politics and lingo, but the fact they're still young and bemused enough to be impressed by their own cynicism in such matters is surely part of their charm. On record, '15' is perhaps the only track that jars awkwardly in the lyrical telling, but live Jenny belts the song out with such good-natured gusto it actually becomes one of the highlights of the show, finishing with Lewis playfully remonstrating with the crowd for being such 'dirty dogs'.

The rebellious streak continues with a set that busts the Academy's curfew by the best part of half-an-hour, and includes a version of 'Rise Up Amongst Fists' from the Jenny Lewis/Watson Twins project and a rare full band performance of new album closer 'Give A Little Love'. Sadly, and a little strangely given that it's a song that you'd imagine would really add flavour in a live rendition, there's no room for the tijuana-tinged pop funk of 'Dejalo' but then even the sweetest of confections needs to leave you wanting a little more. And as feelgood factors go, on tonight's showing Rilo Kiley are smiles ahead of the rest.

Owl 'n' Belles

Part Three of a Set of Three reviews from the Summer Sundae Weekender 2007.

Summer Sundae Weekender, DeMontfort Hall and Gardens, Leicester, Sunday August 12 2007.

Has the last day of the festival come round already? 'Fraid so, but your chipper correspondent is in surprisingly bouncy form this lunchtime, as are Leicester's Toy Heroes, their arrival marked by the drummer shouting 'YEAH!!!' and the singer/guitarist declaring their intention to 'burn this fucken house down'. Fortunately for the health and safety people the group deliver much more pop than they do the snap and crackle of burning canvas, pretty tunes containing rather lovely harmonies, diverting hooks and some pleasing rumbling rock touches. The band all wear shirts with the names of their favourite cartoon characters and for some obscure reason the one your hypnotised hack focuses on is the 'Danger Mouse' tee worn by the female keyboard player/singer, and we get to thinking if DM's sidekick joined up with them they could call themselves 'Penfold's Five'...

Toy Heroes are clearly doing something right as they hold our attention until the very end of their set, meaning we miss the first ten minutes of The Lea Shores over on the Indoor Stage. This London band are touted as being at the forefront of a shoegazing revival, but with their shamanic lead singer and dancey vibe they owe as much if not more to early Verve than they do the likes of Slowdive and Chapterhouse. They're none the worse for that, though, and there's no doubt the tambourine-shaking frontman is a real find, visually a cross between Mad Richard Ashcroft and the comedian/bon viveur Russell Brand. Musically there is perhaps a slight lack of variety to the sound (excusable at this early stage of their career) but there's enough melodies in there with the attitude and reverb to mark them out as ones to watch.

On record The Strange Death Of Liberal England find it difficult to escape comparisons with Arcade Fire, but playing live over on the Rising Stage they offer a more distinctive identity, interchanging instruments with brio and communicating with the audience between songs via placards only. The lead singer's high-pitched yelps are perhaps an acquired taste and the overcrowded tent sees a few folk leaving in a dazed fashion and scratching their heads as to what the fuss is about, the answer being some of the weekend's best moments in 'A Day Another Day' and 'An Old-Fashioned War' leading up to the chaotic climax and post-rock squall of 'Summer Gave Us Sweets But Autumn Wrought Division'. Good to see a band at Summer Sundae with such fire in their belly, and they also provide us with the most stunning band member of the weekend to date in Kelly Jones - no not that berk from Stereophonics but this one as well as the landmark visual prop of the fest in the 'Get Your Owl Out' banner that is purloined by a punter at some stage during the show.

Was looking forward to seeing Cherry Ghost on the main stage, but they are a bit deflating - pleasant enough in a radio-friendly fashion, with some good tunes but too much of their set is uncompelling middle-of-the-road mulch. Pop back in to the Rising Tent to check out the gorgeous Stephanie Dosen and her equally-stunning backing musicians. Dosen has an unusual voice and her ethereal tunes are in direct contrast to the earthy humour of her between-song banter. She's impressed with TSDOLE's placards and suggests they'd be a good idea for porno, before getting her own owl out - the feathered delight of 'Owl In The Dark', you doity birds!

Given that Koop's beats-culture jazz schtick is almost entirely sample-based, it's intriguing to see how they present it live. The two Swedish gentlemen are at the back of the stage twiddling their knobs in their trademark strappy dresses, but they are upstaged by the Norwegian chanteuse Hilde Louise Asbjornsen, who's like Doris Day infused with the va-va voom of Jessica Rabbit, wearing the most fantastic dress that accentuates every curve as she sashays and flirts while the trombonist frenetically extends his instrument. Retro glamour, musical improvisation and surreal visuals all combine for a pretty good way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Decide to put my feet up in the seats of the Indoor Stage to watch a bit of Spoon whose rather formal take on indie-rock moves leaves me sadly unstirred. Much less clever but heaps more fun are The Pigeon Detectives on the main stage with their daft-but-definitely-loveable take on proto-Strokes pogo-pop. The lead singer spies the 'Get Your Owl Out' placard amongst the crowd, grabs hold of it and leads an audience chant. Watching on to our right are The Strange Death Of Liberal England themselves, your cuckoo correspondent finds himself gazing over at Miss Kelly Jones but Dead Kenny decides he'd be a twit to woo...

Catch a bit of the Gruss Rhys on the Indoor Stage, his impressive set design seeing him framed inside a giant TV set, but his cacophonous caterwauling isn't what we're looking for at this stage of proceedings. Echo and The Bunnymen running through their greatest hits back outside is much more in order, though nothing lasting forever sadly extends to Ian McCullough's voice which is more ragged than glorious these days. Over on the Rising Stage, Polytechnic start off bright and lively but as their set goes on the lack of an extra-curricular spark becomes ever more apparent.

And, finally, ladies and gentlemen, we have Spiritualized headlining the Outdoor Stage, with Jason Pierce given a fantastic platform to deliver his 'acoustic' take on old Spiritualized and Spacemen-3 numbers, albeit backed by a mischievous three-piece gospel choir and a mini-orchestra. Perhaps not the most rousing finale to a festival ever, but on the whole Dead Kenny endorses a chilled and enchanting endpiece although as ever with Spiritualized am left with a sensation of wanting that little bit more from them, not in terms of quantity or volume, but in terms of epiphany - a rapturous climax agonisingly just out of reach. Was it ever thus?

In summary, however, this year's Summer Sundae Weekender can be considered a resounding success - brilliant weather, good organisation, fine company and a more satisfying range of acts across the musical spectrum than in previous years all combining to impressive effect.

Maps Prove Useful

Part Two of a Set of Three reviews from the Summer Sundae Weekender 2007.

Summer Sundae Weekender, DeMontfort Halls And Gardens, Leicester, Saturday August 11 2007.

Meander back onto the site about lunchtime feeling a little dehydrated after the previous night's alcohol consumption, so crack open a thirst-quenching but credibility-crushing can of Tango in the belief that there's no-one around to see and tell. On turning around, however, immediately bump into Simon who talks intelligently about music while your hoarse hack tries to avert his gaze from my childish choice of soft drink.

Manage to chug it all down before Ray and Deb arrive on site, and we stroll off to see The Falling Leaves on the Indoor Stage, who have their moments, and recall The Kissaway Trial here and there, but in general are as familiar and slightly depressing as the season of autumn itself. Some sunshine is in order then (have we mentioned yet this is the best festival weather of the year so far?) to catch the first few songs of teenage prodigies Kitty Daisy and Lewis who play with (and indeed, in the style of) their parents. It's pastiche, but done with style and gusto, and in the light of Amy Winehouse's success, you can't argue there's not a market for this sort of thing. Even so, your wandering writer slopes off to see whether The Lea Shores have finally started their slot over on The Rising stage. They hadn't (a last-minute switch to the Indoor Stage on Sunday, we later learn) so console ourselves with the warblings of Jeremy Warmsley a personable young man in search of that singularly defining tune, whose new material betrays a vaguely alarming ambition to be the British Rufus Wainwright. Jez, leave it.

Grab some food at this point and bump into The Prykemeister, but can't hear a lot of what he's saying because Jazz Jamaica are proving to be the loudest band on the main stage we can ever remember. Turn it down, grandads, or the overflying pigeons will be history! Peek back into the Indoor Stage to see recently-reformed indie veterans Cud try manfully to cope with the absence of their lead singer on premature parental leave by seeking volunteers from the crowd to take turns to sing ditties like 'Rich and Strange'. Simon Cowell, if he was here, would no doubt call it a shambles, and maybe it is, but it's an entertaining one nonetheless which seems to help bond the watching crowd.

Enjoy a quick pint with Ray and Deb before wandering down near the front of the Main Stage where former Arab Strap-ling Malcolm Middleton has just started his set. At our first Summer Sundae two years ago, Malcolm was one of the big hits on the Indoor Stage and, with the usual sizeable Scottish contingent present, it's a deserved elevation to the Main Stage to help promote his third (rather good) album 'A Brighter Beat'. Middleton breaks off at one point to say 'I didn't realise I swore so much...fuckin 'ell!' before eventually revealing the title of the next track, the rather-sweet-actually 'Fuck It I Love You'. Post-rock tinged celtic folk never sounded so good!

Back up to the Rising Stage to catch latest Mancunian hopefuls The Whip here to represent the Nu Rave movement for Summer Sundae. Not entirely sure about Nu Rave over at Parallax View although the Klaxons cover of 'It's Not Over' may be the thing that tips us over the edge into its favour in a kind of indie kerplunk fashion. Early doors The Whip seem a bit drippy but a steady swirl of sauce soon permeates proceedings and by the tremendous last number it's the moment the Summer Sundae turned DayGlo. Later find out they've been tipped as the new New Order, if had been aware of this before seeing them would have been disappointed, but taken on their own terms they're one of the revelations of the weekend. Indeed, the drummer seems so pleased with the crowd response she apparently flashes the bassist in celebration - it's good to see a rhythm section getting on so well.

The two big choices of the night were Maps vs Wild Beasts and Sophie Ellis Bextor vs Low. Dead Kenny opts for the co-ordinated ones and (sorry, No.1 Low fan Ben) S-E-B. Had heard reports that Maps were struggling to recreate the excellent debut We Can Create in the live arena, but on the contrary this was one of the highlights of the weekend for PV, genuinely mesmerising stuff with Eloise and It Will Find You the most vivid highlights. Sophie Ellis-Bextor divides the crowd in terms of how much is pre-recorded or not, but nobody could deny her entertainment value, alternating between chic and gauche with amusing regularity, and she can still twitch her tush to devastating effect. Enough anyway, to district your starstruck scribe from the sight of Kitty and Daisy of Kitty, Daisy and Lewis sat directly to our right.

Watch the first few numbers from The Magic Numbers but once they've performed 'Forever Lost' we make a move towards the Indoor Stage to see !!!, meeting the gaze of Kitty and Daisy again as they sit on the steps looking on (later discover they join The Magic Numbers for some of their encores). !!! have the cocky fucker from OutHud (remember them?) as their lead singer and he's in typically extrovert form during a frenetic show during which many people seem to be enjoying themselves immensely, even if we're not sure how many of 'em will remember much about it in the morning.

Try to meet up again with Ray and Deb in the Cocktail Bar, where your
confused correspondent thinks he spies the DJ Trevor Nelson. The doppelganger mistakes my perusal for some other enquiry and sidles over to me and says 'everyone seems to be having a good time, brother, whaddaya reckon?'. Not sure whether he thought your harmless hack was after a fight, a fuck or a score, but time for an f. sharp exit, a timeous text message leading the way to a rendezvous at the indie disco in The Charlotte. A couple of hours of twisting and shouting to the latest indie faves later, your duracell dunderhead still hasn't had enough and heads for the hotel bar for a double whisky and to check the football highlights.

My dazed reverie is however interrupted by a familiar cackle. Who should be lounging in the hotel with friends but the esteemed Mancunian punk-poet John Cooper-Clarke! If seeing him once meant we'd done good, and seeing him twice meant we'd done very very bad, what does seeing him three times mean? On that inscrutable enigma, retire to bed.

to be continued...

Rising Tent Pole

Part One of a Set of Three reviews from the Summer Sundae Weekender 2007.

Summer Sundae Weekender, DeMontfort Hall and Gardens, Leicester, Friday August 10th 2007.

Mebbe your cine-literate correspondent has seen Mulholland Dr. too many times but the night afore Summer Sundae Weekender starts, have a dream in which Mancunian punk-poet John Cooper-Clarke advises that if we see him over the weekend once we'll know we've done good, but if we see him twice we'll know we've done very very bad. Things continue in an ominous vein next day with a freight train derailment between Birmingham and Leicester cancelling all trains in that direction, the replacement coach passes a caravan that has just exploded into fire, and the driver and guard for the connecting train at Nuneaton get held up in the resulting jam.

So arrive in Leicester approximately 90 minutes behind schedule, but still with enough time for a quick shower at the hotel before heading on to the site, where we catch the tail end of some plinkety-plonkety synth-pop from Palladium another band seemingly convinced that what the world needs now is another Kajagoogoo, or in their better moments, another Flock Of Seagulls. Thankfully, some real proper chart pop stuff is about to start off on the main stage in the form of Kate Nash. With Kate's album due to top the album charts later this weekend, there's a backlash brewing for the bespoke boho brunette for sure, but it's one your balanced blogger won't be joining, because we still think she's lovely. Claims that she's just a Lily Allen knock-off are lazy and misguided, although 'Mariella' does sound like the Regina Spektor schtick given an EC1 lick of dayglo paint. It's a good show, not a great one (in the same way her album's entertaining but not fabulous) equal parts sweary and playful, and each generation deserves a break-up(?) song delivered to them in their own language and this year that's 'Foundations' and we don't begrudge her those fifteen minutes of dodging the paps.

A new innovation this year on site is a 'Hub Stage' next to the 6Music caravan, and we're treated to a couple of poems from John Cooper-Clarke and a brief but amusing interview between him and Steve Lamacq, where they stick to a 'script' to eliminate the swearing risk, and JCC advises with mock-weariness that he's been 'supporting The Fall all my life'. Your post-Britop pen-pusher always had a bit of a soft spot for The Beta Band but is afraid to report that spin-off satellite band The Aliens are nothing out of this world, so drift back to the 6Music caravan where your garrulous guide distracts Simon from getting an autograph from Kate Nash with the usual blogging blether.

Simon suggests a trip up to the Musician Stage to see the full John Cooper-Clarke set, and caught up in blogging bonhomie follow him in to the packed tent for an entertaining half-hour of the same jokes he always tells, interspersed with a few poems here and there. Take a call on the Parallax Phone towards the end of the set, so regrettably have to leave the marquee and so miss his Beasley Street remix. Fortunately, however, it does get me down to the Main Stage in time to see The Concretes your hopeful hack's first experience of seeing them in the flesh since Victoria Bergsman's exit. Erstwhile drummer Lisa Millberg has taken up the lead vocal reins, her singing is a dusky, drowsy, acquired taste (she'd have made a great foil for Serge Gainsbourg) but she makes an effort with bright red knee-length stockings and copious flirting with guitarist Maria Eriksson, despite a mixed response from a crowd seemingly expecting a 'best of' set rather than a platform for promoting new record 'Hey Trouble'. Lisa wants us all to move on from the Bergsman period, and that may well prove a struggle but if they continue writing songs of the calibre of 'Oh Boy' and 'Keep Yours' it may yet prove a worthwhile campaign, with 'Hey Trouble' for our money their most consistently rewarding record to date.

Shoot quickly off to the Indoor Stage to see Candie Payne who kindly plays all our favourites from debut platter 'I Wish I could Have Loved You More' (including the rather swish title track) during the first half of her set, allowing the opportunity to hotfoot it to the Rising stage to catch the last few songs from The Modified Toy Orchestra still bedecked in the same Primark suits as Supersonic, and with plentiful supply of banter, Toy Orchestra conductor Brian Duffy inviting one member of the audience to an anal sex experience after the show to show him/her how forbidden it wasn't. Bump into The Prykemeister after the performance, and a minute later get a call from Ray and Deb to say they've finally made it on site. Beers and banter ensue, with our last musical memories of the night involving Dead Kenny doing a spot of pole dancing - no, not what you're thinking, just your clumsy correspondent doing his best to co-ordinate shifting one foot to the other during a surprisingly funky latenight set from German experimentalists Pole in The Rising Stage.

To be continued...

How Are Things In The West Mids?

Interpol, Carling Academy, Birmingham, Monday August 20 2007.

With the autumn of 2007 nibbling at our ankles and chafing our necks, it's perhaps time for those of us with nothing more productive to do to consider who is likeliest to emerge as the finest rock band of the decade. In which case, looking further than Interpol may prove futile. Almost exactly five years on from when their debut was released in the UK, they have now released three albums unrivalled by contemporaries in terms of dark, rich musical textures and lyrical loopiness combining to compelling, addictive effect.

So unless tonight support act The Maccabees decide to arrest their chemistry, Interpol look set to handcuff themselves to destiny and leave British contenders like Arctic Monkeys looking like feeble chancers in comparison. In defence of The Maccabees your chaotic correspondent arrives late in the venue and spends time chatting to the StrangeTime ensemble and Andrew from post-rock outfit Cellar Door rather than visually checking them out, but from what we hear their best songs sound like Interpol but just not quite as good, while their other songs rarely ascend above generic post-britpop indie. In further defence, however, the crowd seem to love 'em.

And what an assembled crowd it it is. Last time your hopeful hack saw Interpol at this very same venue some three years ago it was reasonably easy to get near-ish to the stage albeit from the sides but tonight we're rammed right at the back. Further away we may be, but it has to be said that the sound quality is much improved upon from that 2004 gig when the band finally hit the stage after what seems an interminable wait.

The set, when it comes, has a fairly even spread of material across the three albums, although the bulk of material from the debut is saved for the three closing songs. It's perhaps surprising that only five tracks from the newie 'Our Love To Admire' make the setlist (There's No I In Threesome, All Fired Up and Wrecking Ball all missing the cut), but this could be explained by the fact that it's effectively a warm-up gig before the Carling Festivals shows in Reading and Leeds this upcoming weekend.

What's left, however, sounds tremendous, from the tense opener 'Pioneer To The Falls' through the ominous coda of 'Mammoth' to the now-anthemic brace of 'Antics' favourites - 'Slow Hands'; 'Evil' and 'Not Even Jail'. It's slightly disconcerting to see these troubled and troubling songs being accompanied by a stunning striplight show and greeted with terrace-style chanting and partytime handclaps, and for sure if they continue at this rate of progress Interpol are heading for the (gulp) arena circuit for too long. Perhaps that's a fate befitting the decade's best rock band, however, and there's no doubt they're a group on top of their form right now, with a sound as hard, precise and powerful as titanium thunderbolts to the heart.

The effects of the show linger on long after the lights go up, as an hour later at New Street Station a radiant redhead fan is heard to gasp that her 'knickers are still wet'. Given that they apparently reduced Kate to tears the first time she saw them, it's clear that Carlos D & Co. have developed a surefire knack for distantly stimulating feminine fluids that your befuddled blogger and other mere mortals can only dream of.

FYI: Both Chris Maher from StrangeTime and Andrew from Cellar Door went to school with the bass player from Beestung Lips! (recently signed to Southern Recordings, no doubt encouraged by our rave review of their Supersonic show). So now Papa's Got A Brand New Gig Blag, just say on the door that you were in the same class as the Beestung Lips! bassist and you too will be able to enter the possibly sinister world of the Second City's secret musical society. Our investigations into these matters to be continued...

Time Machine

StrangeTime/Mono, Barfly, Birmingham, Tuesday July 31 2007.

As your tired tyro heads down the stairs into the cavernous Barfly he is greeted by a convivial Phill who advises that the bands won't be playing on the main stage tonight but in the 'back room' instead. Any sense of disappointment that we won't be seeing StrangeTime grace the same arena as we've seen the likes of Metric, iLiKETRAiNS and Archie Bronson Outfit, gives way to the excitement your curious correspondent gleans from the knowledge that there is a secret area at this venue hitherto unknown to your gullible gig-goer.

The 'backroom' is a dark, narrow area but with decent sound and enough space for up to a 100 people to pack into at a push. Tonight, there's roughly half that amount gathering in anticipation, enough to create a stirring of atmosphere while still preserving some degree of personal space. StrangeTime have the confidence to drop in favourites like 'Lust' and former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Personality Disorder' early into the show, reflecting an increasing belief that is building within and from outside the band. There's a slight hitch when they try out a new number (on Donna's excited encouragement) and John elects to abandon the drum intro but the resulting spark of anarchy throws some light relief into a set that's otherwise as hard, taut and glistening as a hanged man's cock.

Only catch about half of Mono's set, a comparatively straightforward outfit presenting a competent and toe-tapping take on blues rock. They're not exactly re-writing the rule-book but then neither were Moseley's Ocean Colour Scene but that didn't seem to do them any harm, did it? Worth checking on a full set soon, Dead Kenny reckons.

Jet Set Go!

Supersonic Festival, Custard Factory Complex, Digbeth, Birmingham, July 13th/14th 2007.

With the festival running until 3am both nights, a hotel stop is required for your decadent correspondent, and a good deal via laterooms secures a berth at the newly refurbished Paragon Hotel in Alcester Street. The room is small with a barely functioning toilet but has a funky 'boutique' feel, plasma TV, chocolate brown blankets, thick curtains and, most importantly, members of Wolf Eyes queueing behind your quaking hack at check-in. The devil is truly in the details.

Queue in the rain with Cardiff scenester Ben for about twenty minutes but get to The Medicine Bar just in time to catch the beginning of Monarch!'s reign. Their music builds slowly and intriguingly, interspersed with stunning surges of guitar squall and an elfin chanteuse releasing her demons with growls that seem to come from somebody else's body entirely. The result is as dramatic and startling a live performance as Dead Kenny has witnessed during his Parallax View years and a hell of a start to any festival.

Elsewhere on Friday, Fuck Buttons are let loose in The Kitchen, resulting in cacophany, samples, hiss and beats. Some of their songs seem to go on for way too long but they leave more of an impression than Kling Klang back at The Medicine Bar, who seem like Mogwai only less so. Feeling frazzled and sleepy-eyed by the time Wolf Eyes hit the stage, which may possibly account for the fact that your pooped penpusher finds them neither as scary or interesting as had been led to believe. There's a lot of noise, plenty of attitude, an overload of pantomime but an apparent loss of point now the novelty's worn off.

Monarch! having blown your woozy webslinger's socks off the night before, Saturday afternoon is spent trudging the streets of the suddenly sunny Second City for replenishments. A bumper pack from Gap or Next would have been sensible and good value, so inevitably end up in House of Fraser's sale emerging with a Paul Smith pair in West Ham colours instead. Perhaps, though, this indulgence is just reward for earlier escorting a visiting Japanese academic to New Street Station (yes, you're right, she was hot, your garrulous guide may be virtuous but he ain't dull...).

Retail therapy thus completed, head back to the Custard Factory where catch the last quarter-hour or so of Crippled Black Phoenix underneath The Arches, who sound like Mogwai playing tiddlywinks with mid-period Manic Streets Preachers, umpired in a slightly officious manner by Soundgarden, and the result is as intermittently interesting and bombastic as that sounds. Meet up with Ben again to watch Voice Of The Seven Woods who are a bit dull until your bored blogger says so out loud, at which point they buck their ideas up somewhat and start giving it some overdue bollocks.

Back in The Arches, three people are staring at their laptops in deadly seriousness to apparent disinterest from the audience. These are Migrant, who make some nice noises here and there, but perhaps need to lighten up. Back over at The Medicine Bar, Calvados Beam Trio contrive a brand of math-rock considerably less than the sum of their constituent influences, so your fickle furtler leaves Ben with his calculator to make acquaintance with a lovely lady with a harp, namely Serafina Steer who can be simplistically described as an entertaining collision between Kate Nash and Joanna Newsom, so we'll leave the intellectual descriptions to others with more time on their hands.

Back at The Medicine Bar, Beestung Lips are doing what had hoped Wolf Eyes might be capable of: they're tearing your discombobulated dimwit a new arsehole with their terrifying and genuinely confrontational brand of jagged-bottle-up-your-rear-end rock'n'roll. An excited young woman is pushing and pulling your stunned scribe as he tries to make some sense of it all. Little change there, then.

It's back to kids stuff over on the Main Stage as The Modified Toy Orchestra make like Hot Chip let loose in the kindergarten wearing Primark suits. Diverting enough, but the lure of Qui (a band recently joined by David Yow from The Jesus Lizard) underneath The Arches, not to mention the need for some nutritional supplement, pulls us away. Yow's lost his passport but none of his balls during an entertaining and uncompromising set which augurs well for the new album due out in stores imminently.

Chrome Hoof's novelty factor proves popular with the crowd, but strip away their party attitude, silver-foil costumes, erotic dancers and multi-genre fusion feel and you're left with a band who could be playing until Supersonic 2017 and they'd still never hit on anything remotely resembling a proper tune. Back out to The Arches, then, but find Om a bit um, so queue to get back in for Mogwai, watch Serafina Steer being interviewed in a room opposite and spectacularly fail to get her attention (stopping just short of singing 'Hey Serafina!' to the tune of Macarena) while everyone wants a piece of Qui's spaced out guitarist Matt Cronk who always seems to be lumbering nearby.

Headliners Mogwai were Mogwai and if they're not careful they could turn into Mog-why???!!!. The music is pretty enough in parts, but there's not enough genuine substance and epiphany to bolster a set of this length, leaving even hardcore fans feeling a little underwhelmed. Maybe, like Wolf Eyes, they're just a band that's run its course, ending not with a bang but a tinker. Do bump into Pete Ashton at this point, however, who is in engaging and informed form in his official blogging capacity and flickring presence, and advises of a rare prior sighting of the owner of the Russ L brand on the festival site.

It's now getting quite late, have bid Ben adieu, but it's not over until the mad French bloke stops banging the drums, so circle in on Duracell a one-man act who programs his drums to generate old-skool game beats in a brilliantly barmy fashion, sweaty lunatic bravado that deserves a hearty bravo! But it's now 3am, there's no sign of Eternal, so your dazed dunderhead heads his satiated way home...

Related links:

Parallax View at Supersonic 2005.
Pete Ashton-collated Supersonic 2007 Collective Memory.
Ben's Supersonic 2007 review.
Russ L's Supersonic 2007 experience.
The Fuck Buttons verdict.

And You Will Know Them By The Trail Of Dead Kenny

The Kissaway Trail/Envy And Other Sins, The Buttermarket, Shrewsbury, Thursday July 12 2007.

We don't often get decent gigs down Shropshire way, so perhaps we shouldn't complain too much when things don't start off on time. But when the posters advertise 8pm doors, it's not unreasonable to ask questions when you turn up at 8.25pm to be told they're not ready yet and could you pop round the Britannia for 15mins while they set things up? Still, not being the complaining sort(!) your correspondent does indeed investigate said pub, settle down with a pint of Youngs's, and sample the best of the pub jukebox to while away the quarter-hour experiment -

Parallax Real-Life Jukebox, The Britannia, Shrewsbury, 12/07/07

Golden Skans - Klaxons
Country Girl - Primal Scream
Pacific State - 808 State
All Around The World - The Jam
Dakota - Stereophonics

Do the best of a bad job there, reckon, so duck and dive past postal workers drifting in off the picket line to wet their whistle and head back to The Buttermarket where the KT standstill is over, the doors are now open but the Caffreys casks are empty so Guinness it is. First band don't make it on stage until 9.10pm and your blackstuff-imbibing hack doesn't quite catch their name but they're from Birmingham, the lead singer is trying his best to sound like Ray LaMontagne, they have a cute cellist and that's about as much as can think of to say about them at this point.

Next up is another Brum-based band, Envy And Other Sins, a stylish quartet picking up a fair amount of momentum at the moment it seems, and the group members seem to have very distinct looks/personalities which may help them in the long run. They peddle a polite form of keyboard driven pop-rock, which while occasionally diverting, only really comes to life in the more rousing numbers that bookend the set. That said, they have the potential to be moulded into a chart-troubling post-emo pop act with the right guidance, and, after all, the green-eyed monster is never far away, n'est-ce pas?

By the time The Kissaway Trail find the route onstage your timetable-consulting scribe is already having concerns about making the last train home, but such anxieties are nearly immediately allayed by the impressively dark pop noise they create. Imagine Interpol and The Monkees exchanging secret sonic handshakes at a mountainside spa resort while The Wannadies tend the bar under the watchful gaze of Wayne Coyne as Maitre'D and you've at the very least taken a mazy meander inside Dead Kenny's imagination if not been given an exact aural interpretation of the wares on offer. If you require something less verbose it's bloody good stuff to bounce up and down to after a few pints of Guinness, with 'Smother+Hurt=Evil'; 'Tracy' and 'La La Song' amongst the standouts. XXX marks your hack's spot sufficiently that he doesn't buy the company as such (relatively old and greying compared to our last Salop gig) but instead resolves to purchase the band's self-titled debut with appropriate speed and elan.

Related link: The Prykemeister's 2005 impression of Moseley's Envy And Other Sins (need to scroll down a little).

Bling The Noize

Mika Miko/No Age, The Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham, Saturday June 23 2007.

Your correspondent has previously heard dark mutterings about the denizens of The Sunflower Lounge: that there is terminal trendiness therein, a tendency to sneer down upon anyone not wearing the right sort of retro trainers and an atmosphere more cliquey than a posse of paparazzi let loose on a Paris Hilton prison shower lesbian love-in. On the three occasions Dead Kenny has previously ventured there he encountered a Fatty Arbuckle-style Wild Party, a clumsy girl in piratical attire and the unalloyed joy of The Clash's 'Tommy Gun' blaring out at top volume (after the Emily Haines show at the Glee Club), so it's with an open mind that your intrepid hack enters the bar for his first proper gig at the venue.

The gigs are held in the downstairs area, with a 'Staff Only' sign on top of the door cunningly designed to repel those not in the 'in-crowd'. How exciting it is then to see through this ruse and get to spy on the sartorial secrets of the Second City's hip and happening citizens at close quarters. Your furtive scribe first sees the girl taking cash on the door, and she's...well, not wearing very much, actually. But then hot girls in summer dresses is a look that never goes out of fashion, n'est-ce-pas? Elsewhere, silly hats are de rigeur, and there are various sightings of over-sized specs (blame Hot Chip); flip-flops (someone very confident about the state of the loos, clearly) and (we shit ye not, Sherlock) this season's most happening fashion fusion to wear at an underground rock gig - a Melt Banana t-shirt bedecked with a gaudy gold bling necklace! You'll all be wearing it next summer, or my name's not Trinny and Susannah.

And yet my nascent career as a fashion detective is put on hold with the emergence on stage of No Age, two dudes from the City Of Angels intent on making heavenly noise from their drums/guitar axis. Dean Spunt (stop spluttering at the back!) bashes the skins and sings his heart out, while Randy Randall (his real name...we think!) concentrates on churning out the chords as well as helping out here and there with the vocal duties. The result is a really very impressive noise but with enough pop sensibility (they cite Squeeze amongst their influences) to come on like the adorable lovechild consequence of The Beach Boys climbing Brokeback Mountain with Fugazi (erm...time to resit your Biology exam, methinks - Ed.). Their songs sometimes hit grooves that other bands would luxuriate in for extended breaks, but these No Age fellows keep everything commendably brief, leaving the audience always wanting something more, so think of them as the My Bloody Valentine that wouldn't have brought Creation Records to their knees and seek out and worship the best new band of 2007 to date.

It isn't Mika Miko's fault that their nominally headline set feels like something of an anti-climax, just a reflection that their entertaining high-energy cocktail of riot-grrl and shouty punk-funk lacks the explosions of epiphany that peppered their support-act's set. They seem like fun girls with the right sort of attitude (when your clumsy correspondent accidently nudges the bassist's breast as she makes her way towards the stage he is met with an amused smile rather than a stern lecture on how the angle of his drinking arm was a subconcious reflection of sexist attitudes in a masculine society), with some good songs and a neat gimmick (one of the singers yelps into a mic that's been converted from a bright red telephone receiver, giving a distorted effect). Constantly watchable and with an enthusiasm that's genuinely infectious all they really lack is one or two songs that could really raise the ante amongst a consistent set of material that on this showing doesn't quite catch fire.

This doesn't stop some of the youths in the audience play-wrestling near the front, although we trust their retro trainers didn't get too scuffed, and the guy with the flip-flops escaped without having his toes fractured. As for your correspondent, he enjoys the show so much he buys a bandana, as the nu-rave disco blares out on Mika Miko's departure. Everybody's getting down, and these cool cats may wear some crazy clothes but the inclusive and fun atmosphere engendered makes for one of the best value gigs in the Parallax View calendar year so far.

Shrew Stew, Sir!

CSS/The Holloways/The Pipettes/The Wombats, Music Hall, Shrewsbury, Tuesday June 19 2007.

It's not often you get one decent indie band playing in the shotgun capital of Shropshire, so to get four in one night, for the princely sum of 12 quid, is an offer too good to miss. With proceeds going towards cancer research, what could go wrong? Well, your correspondent only managing to catch the tail end of The Wombats, for starters. Harsh to gauge them on just a few tunes although the latest on the seemingly never-ending Scally scamp production line look fairly unexceptional and have some meat-and-potatoes songs before bringing the gravy with closing number and veritable radio hit 'Backfire At The Disco' (like Los Campesinos! bowdlerised of all art-school pretension but sounding a much better idea than that might seem).

Is there life after marsupials? Seems so, in the frisky shape of The Pipettes who have their usual fun in tearing through material from fabulous debut 'We Are The Pipettes' plus dropping in a few promising newbies like 'By My Side'. To see this band is to adore them, and the Parallax View's uncompromising take on The Pipettes is you either like 'em or you're stupid, that simple. The album title track, 'Judy', 'Pull Shapes', 'One Night Stand' and 'Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me' are all dispatched with a soupcon of sauce, with Rosie in particularly fine voice and Gwenno exuding enough star wattage to blister a black hole right through any doubts you might have about the retro nature of their appeal.

There's a fair few exiting the venue at the end of this set, maybe it's a hardcore Pipettes posse or someone told 'em The Holloways are coming on next. To be fair, the Cockney ska shamblers are personable enough but you get the impression that however many times they re-release 'Generator' they're never quite going to shrug off the 'poor man's Ordinary Boys' tag. In truth they seem popular with boisterous boys in the audience, but the fact that the ongoing tussles between the crowdsurfers and ill-prepared security staff grab the attention for long stages of the performance reveals the uninvolving nature of much of their material.

Last time your correspondent saw CSS was in December in a hot and sweaty Birmingham Academy 2 where the view was sufficiently impaired to reduce the impact of the performance. On the Music Hall's more elevated stage this isn't a problem tonight, allowing Dead Kenny to marvel at how easily they've evolved from intimate club performers to hall-filling headliners. There's still some clumsy charm intact but it all seems much more well-drilled and professional while Lovefoxx revels in her demented disco Bjork persona, stripping off her skintight catsuit at one point...to reveal another even more skintight catsuit underneath. Aside from all the favourites from last year's flippin' essential self-titled CD they find room for a cover of L7's 'Pretend That We're Dead', but judging from the twitching limbs of all around me it's one order this crowd feel no capability of following.

Room On Fire

Apartment/51 Breaks, Bar Academy, Birmingham, Wednesday June 13 2007.

It's been a good while since your correspondent has ventured into Bar Academy but it only takes a few steps into the venue before there's a reminder of the huge wall of heat that greets you there in the summertime, even when half-full. Is it really too much to ask Carling to churn some of their lager profits into an investment in a huge fuck-off fan like they have at The Cockpit in Leeds? Dead Kenny is in serious danger of meltin' away. MELTIN' AWAY, I tells ya!

But instead of an ice-cream van, we get support act 51 Breaks. Your correspondent saw these four Birmingham lads at a Different Kettle Of Fish gig a couple of years back (see here for the full review) but in truth we don't remember that much about them, and first impressions bring the thermostat back down to lukewarm. Yet even though this puts your sweltering hack of a mind to be fairly dismissive, the band have a knack of producing an intriguing hook or energising change of pace just often enough to hold the interest. They're the sonic equivalent of Kajagoogoo, The Milltown Brothers and the E-Street Band sharing the same sauna towel, and even though they're a little too poppy and lightweight to find full favour in the Parallax View editorial office, they seem pretty, malleable and tuneful enough to tempt a record company to invest. Judging from the response from some excited females in the audience, it could prove a shrewd move.

By contrast, your scribe made immediate room in his heart for Apartment on first acquaintance with the group when they showed up bottom of the bill at an XFM showcase gig with The Departure headlining (see here for the full Parallax View report). Our interest hasn't wavered since, despite an enormous gestation period for their fine debut album 'The Dreamer Evasive' by which time their buzz has cooled to a low refrigerator hum. They start off immediately with their best-known number 'Everyone Thinks I'm Paranoid' although things really come to life with the arresting opening chords of 'My Brother Chris' while other highlights include a brooding cover of 'Crazy'; the marching pomp of '10000 Times' and the final wigout of 'Beyond My Control'.

And yet, for all the impressive renditions of their superb set of songs, there's something missing tonight from that first time experience a few years back. Although not without confidence or charm, there's a definite lack of swagger about them tonight. Like ex sex, the moves are still there, but the light behind the eyes has gone. Perhaps it's the impact of a third of the audience disappearing at the end of local favourites 51 Breaks' set, or wider still a recognition that for all their brilliance, things have gone a little flat for the band and maybe Apartment's time has gone. With singer David Caggiari forced to make an online denial recently about a possible split amidst rumours of solo diversions, your correspondent has a very real fear that unless the record-buying public are enormously careful there is a serious danger of Apartment becoming one of the great lost bands of the decade, with the soaring tunes and decadent glamour of The Dreamer Evasive left as one of the era's most potent secrets.

With All The Luck You've Had Why Are Your Songs So Sad?

Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton/Michael Andrews, Glee Club (Studio), Birmingham, Friday June 1 2007.

Support act Michael Andrews is best known for his part in the Gary Jules cover of 'Mad World' that topped the UK charts at Christmas a few years back, which featured in his score for the 2002 cult curio Donnie Darko. During tonight's set he leaves the piano untouched for an acoustic set accompanied by Amir Yaghmai, to promote his solo album 'Hand On String'. He has a clutch of decent tunes, a lovely singing voice and a self-effacing charm that leaves one young lady in the audience unable to say anything but 'awww!' at his every utterance. And yet...surely supply exceeds demand currently when it comes to these alt.folk troubadours, so you wonder in the long run whether Mike has what it takes to live with more distinctive artistes such as Devendra and (Bonnie Prince) Billy.

A short while later, the main event arrives on stage a hooded figure, like ET with cheekbones, as Metric singer Emily Haines sits down at the piano, makes a quip about ASBOs and no doubt keeps a nervous eye out for any David Cameron types liable to leap on stage and give her a hug. While she sings the sad songs from her solo debut 'Knives Don't Have Your Back' there's a bloke sat to her left fiddling with his laptop to project images from weird art films by a cult Canadian director. Not being that familiar as yet with the album it's a creepy but intriguing preview at this change of direction from Metric's more straightforward New Wave modernism, although Emily's charisma and precise vocal delivery of vaguely unsettling lyrics remain intact from her dayjob. The result is absorbing, impressive and appetising, with 'The Lottery', 'The Maid Needs A Maid' and 'Winning' all standing out, so if you're looking for something a little bit spooky and unusual take a Haines check soon.

Au Revoir Run Through It

Au Revoir Simone/Slow Club, Glee Club (Studio), Birmingham, Friday May 18 2007.

Sheffield's twee-pop duo Slow Club profess to having a bad day, but on tonight's evidence it'll take more than a few broken guitar strings and a spilt glass of wine to dampen their spirits. Recently signed to Moshi Moshi and with a new single set to hit stores soon, Ian Broudie-lookalike Charles and Rebecca may be full of self-deprecating charm on the outside but deep down we suspect they know they're on to something with their corking tunes, musical improvisation (Rebecca uses milk bottles and a wooden chair as part of her percussive armoury) and all-round sense of fun making for a support slot so fizzy, delicious and more-ish we suspect the setlist to contain more E-Numbers than song titles.

We first brought Brooklyn's Au Revoir Simone to your attention back in December 2005 but this is your correspondent's first opportunity to catch them live, as they tour the UK in support of second album 'The Bird Of Music'. The record is more polished and downbeat than debut 'Verses Of Comfort And Salvation', with lyrics more wintry and sad than is surely right for three girls this gorgeous. The set surprisingly draws almost exclusively from this sombre sophomore effort, but the slightly gauche stage demeanour of the girls adds some welcome levity to proceedings, with Annie bustin' some pumpin' iron dance moves purloined earlier from Charles Slow Club, and giggly references made to the 'intimacy' of the Glee's studio making them feel like schoolgirls at choral practice.

Highlights include the wonderful 'Sad Song'; 'Dark Halls' and ominous album closer 'The Way To There' and what the live experience adds is a greater appreciation of the elaborate arrangements of the new material, but the set feels a couple of songs light, exacerbated by the fact there's no encore. Still, there's few complaints from the audience who, men and women alike, clamber with indecent haste towards the merch stand for some quality time with the girls. But, as brief encounter as it was, your hack saw enough to want to check out the ARS sometime again soon.

Love, Death, etc.

Terry Johnson's Hysteria, Birmingham Repertory Theatre, Birmingham, Saturday May 5 2007, 2.30pm.
The Painted Veil, Cineworld Broad Street, Birmingham, Saturday May 5 2007, 5.40pm.
StrangeTime, The Spotted Dog, Digbeth, Birmingham, Saturday May 5 2007, 9.30pm.

Having seen Terry Johnson's last couple of plays (Hitchcock Blonde, Piano/Forte) down in London, your correspondent was curious to see the Brum Rep's revival of an older play of his, namely Hysteria, a farcical fictionalisation of a brief meeting between Sigmund Freud and Salvador Dali during the twilight of the psychologist's years. Johnson again blends highbrow and lowbrow elements, with crude and anachronistic farce set against philosophical and moral musings on religion, psychotherapy and familial abuse. Despite some committed performances and brilliant set design, however, Dead Kenny remained unconvinced that these disparate elements gelled. There is a staggering sequence where the whole set 'melts' into a nightmarish Daliesque tableau vivant that is worth the price of admission alone, but it's just a shame that the play that wraps around it is often so deeply silly.

Then popped across the street to a sports bar to check on West Ham's result against Bolton (a 3-1 victory, ta for asking, but more about the footie after the season's over) where the barstaff seemed more intent on playfighting than serving your anxious hack (they were both uncommonly attractive so it was a pleasing enough distraction as our eyes darted across the multiple Sky Sports screens to establish the necessary scoreline). The Hammers lived to fight another day, on the pitch or in the court still to be decided, so a calming bottle of Bud was dispatched before heading to Cineworld.

John Curran's The Painted Veil (2006), adapted from a Somerset Maugham book, starts off as a study of the passive aggression that lies behind the stiff upper lip of the repressed Englishman, before offering up some hope that redemption can be found in just, y'know, trying to get on a bit better. Edward Norton does a good job of an English accent as the prissy cuckolded biologist who insists on taking his errant wife (Naomi Watts) to cholera-infested Shanghai with slightly unpredictable results. As perhaps could be expected, the film's not exactly a barrel of giggles, but emerged as that rarest of period-piece literary adaptations - something with a whiff of real life about it.

Having stomached a day of death and disease, your cultural correspondent was in the mood for hard liquour, good company and some rattling guitar tunes, so braved the daunting mugger's paradise of the bridge by Moor St Station to reach the oasis of The Spotted Dog (just off Bordesley Street, second city geography fact fans) in time to catch StrangeTime enthralling the Barfly-feeder pub's clientele with a fiesty and engaging set. The rumbling menace of newish song 'Sirens'(?) and spiky splendour of 'Magnet' (pulled from the Kate Finch solo oeuvre) nestled flirtatiously with older numbers like 'Lust' and 'Ex-Boyfriend', before debut single 'Personality Disorder' (available for download from just about evey reputable download source from May 24, record release fact afficionados) gave us the happiest of happy finishes.

Hysteria runs at the Birmingham Rep until May 12. The Painted Veil on general release at cinemas nationwide now. StrangeTime next play live at The Actress & Bishop in Birmingham on May 25.

Maria Scary

Maria McKee/Dan Whitehouse, Glee Club, Birmingham, Wednesday May 2 2007.

Just to show that Parallax View isn't just here for the nasty, snide things in life let's give credit where it's due and applaud the Glee Club for toning down the totalitarian tutelage from the PA which bemused us so at the Camera Obscura gig last month. We should really also mention that tonight's headliner Maria McKee makes a point of saying how friendly the staff are here, and a foxy barmaid with gorgeous eyes compliments your correspondent on his t-shirt, so it's now officially our favourite gig venue EVAH. Mind, Ms McKee is still given cause to mention how quiet and polite the audience is, so perhaps we are still gripped with fear that any signs of boisterousness will see us dragged into a darkened room and bitchslapped by a Bob Dylan boxset.

The advertised support, Tom Baxter, has broken down on the motorway somewhere (these singer-songwriters are such sensitive types, we hope he's over it soon) so Dan Whitehouse is drafted in at the last minute. He used to be in Naomi, apparently, well lucky him (or lucky her depending on your inclination). His microphone droops dramatically during the first number, and he, erm, manfully resists the quip 'that's never happened to me before, honest!' and instead leans over and croons unamplified in the ear of a female in the front row who appears to dissolve into desire as a result. Quite liked Mr Whitehouse's experiment with solo material, but decide a full band would probably better complement his big voice - maybe a booty call back to Naomi's in order?

Some people seem to leave after Dan's set - whether these are dissappointed Tom Baxter fans or Whitehouse guestlisters we're not sure - leaving a few seats free next to your correspondent for a couple of gentlemen to take up. On returning from the loo, we find them deep in theological discussion, to wit, 'I assure you I *do* exist and am not a figment of your imagination, if that helps'. Still, it's more entertaining than the chap in front who insists on loudly sucking on his gf's neck every couple of minutes before mock-sheepishly looking round to see if anyone's paying attention. Never would a bitchslapping with a Bob Dylan boxset been more deserved...

So Maria McKee can't come on soon enough for our tastes, and she delivers an entertaining set which includes the highlights of her new record (including dramatic title track 'Late December' and rousing album closer 'Starvin' Pretty') plus a decent spread of her older material, including a welcome version of classic Lone Justice single 'Shelter'. If you haven't seen McKee in a while she gives the impression of being as mad as West Ham's season, bossing her band (which includes her husband on bass and a former family childminder on backing vocals) to re-tune her guitar and keyboards during the off-kilter interludes between songs, and slating her record company for advertising her version of 'A Good Heart' as a cover when in fact she originally wrote Feargal Sharkey's hit as a teenager, and the inclusion of the track on her new album is her attempt to reclaim the song.

And yet the band and the audience indulge her, because ultimately she remains a huge and indisputable talent, a unique personality and extraordinary voice, and she's capable of pulling out tunes like 'High Dive' which defy genres as they charm and beguile. We do worry about her, though, principally because the questioning chap two seats away from your correspondent turns out to be the bloke who's driving her down to London in the morning. Let's hope he realises the traffic lights are real and not a figment of his imagination or else Maria McKee will surely be shown to heaven rather prematurely. Which, on this showing, would be an awful tragedy, in our Parallax View.

That Obscura Object Of Desire

Camera Obscura/Ned Collette, Glee Club, Birmingham, Tuesday April 3 2007.

It's been a while since last at the Glee Club for a gig, and it's not long before your correspondent remembers why, as the mellifluous tones of the PA advise us to switch off our mobile phones, get our drinks before the performance starts, and, oh, if we want to talk at any time during performance could we take it outside into the corridors please? Further instructions to goosestep out of the auditorium and be sure to listen to nothing but Norah Jones when we get back to our pads is surely just around the corner.

Still, obedient sorts us indie tykes are, Australian troubadour Ned Collette is greeted with a reverent hush that would be classed as exclusion or bullying if it happened on a reality TV set. Ned seems a confident lad, however, and just gets on with the business of crooning away to the accompaniment of pre-recorded guitar loops in addition to his own real-time strumming. He's not without talent or charm, but the effect is pleasing and soothing rather than energising so he's a strange choice of aperitif for our headlining scamps.

The PA wakes us up again, however, by announcing that the bar will close before the main performance starts, only to retract this a few minutes later at the special request of the band themselves. 'We're Scottish, after all,' Tracyanne Campbell reminds us, which is a fair point, and their timely intervention represents a small victory against supperclub fascism but an important one nonetheless.

Last time we saw Camera Obscura they'd pitched up at last year's Summer Sundae minus their instruments (still held at Copenhagen airport) leaving them to improvise with gear loaned from the local Leicester music shop. So this time they appear a little less flustered and give us a full set, including a rendition of the title track from last record (and, lest we forget, PV's 2nd favourite album of 2006) 'Let's Get Out Of This Country', which they missed out doing at SS.

The main difference between the recorded version of Camera Obscura and the live experience is Tracyanne lets her natural accent out more, swallowing the ends of each lyrical phrases with Scottish inflection. The result is a little Dylanesque, a little bit rock'n'roll, and, let's be frank, reader, a massive dollop of sexy. Highlights include a rattling run-through of 'If Looks Could Kill', the always adorable 'Suspended From Class' and set closer 'Razzle Dazzle Rose' which succeeds in enchanting despite some consternation amongst the band when it's announced 'the drums are broken'.

Encores include a cover of 'Super Trouper' (which features on the b-side on the 7" of upcoming single 'Tears For Affairs', flipside fact fans) and, appropriately enough in the circumstances, 'I Need All The Friends I Can Get', for which Ned Collette and the audience themselves supply complex clapped percussion to compensate for the drumming vacuum. This is apparently Camera Obscura's very first gig in Birmingham, so let's hope the warm reception from the crowd means this particular venue's draconian set-up will not stop them coming back to the Black Country.

Nash Hits

Kate Nash/Peggy Sue And The Pirates, Little Civic, Wolverhampton, Tuesday March 27 2007.

Don't have much in the way of prior knowledge about Peggy Sue And The Pirates but, coming from Brighton by way of London, had them figured for ditzy scenesters. What becomes immediately apparent as they start proceedings with an acapella number, however, is that both girls have extraordinarily good voices and they're not afraid to use them to splendid harmonising effect. There's also a nice line in humour running throughout the songs to complement their sound vocal technique, with 'Superman' making me chuckle with its' observation, 'I've been played by lots of different actors/Some of 'em were good, but some of 'em were wankers'. Very entertaining, then, but somebody should have a word with them about the fact the tracklisting on their CD is all to cock...

The cheeky electropop of 'Caroline's A Victim' is played to the crowd before Kate Nash gets up on stage, just as well as it's an acoustic version we're treated to as part of the live set. It plays well enough but on her first ever tour it's difficult not to feel a little short-changed that a nearer approximation to her debut single couldn't be attempted in concert. Overall, though, the lack of 'killer beats' is compensated by the good humour and charm presented throughout by the curvaceous and cheeky Nash, who, judging on tonight's turnout, has become the adopted elder sister of Wolverhampton undergraduate girls obsessed with cake and beads. There's a nice moment, too, when she beckons her sound engineer, a wild-haired man answering to the name of Rampton(!), to come up on stage to celebrate his birthday (you guessed it, cake was involved!).

Technically, her vocal range is a little more limited than the PS&P girls but she sings with a fetching East London twang that stands up to the exposure of the half-acoustic half-electronic set. But while the love for Kate Nash amongst the crowd is palpable, it's perhaps only on 'The Birds' where you feel a genuine emotional connection is made through the material as opposed to the singer's winning personality. A work in progress, then, with plenty of promise, potential that will perhaps be fully realised when the electronica element can be sustained live throughout to give her a more distinctive edge over singer/songwriter rivals.

Oh Mercer!

The Shins/Viva Voce, Wulfrun Hall, Wolverhampton, Monday March 26 2007.

Viva Voce have already gotten started as your correspondent weaves his way into the venue. They're another boy/girl outfit, haven't we had enough of those already? Well, nope, not when they make the decent sort of racket this Portland, Oregon duo are producing. According to the The Shins' Jimmy Mercer, 'Viva Voce take the dream aesthetic of shoe gaze psych pop and beat the living shit out out of it'. Dunno about that (is he after our job, or what?) because, although there are similarities to Joy Zipper before JZ became more enamoured with The Beach Boys than MBV, VV sound more like loud-period Low than anything else, to our ears. In any case, worth finding out for yourself when their new album 'Viva Voce Loves You' is available on CD or as download on June 18.

Last time we saw The Shins was about this time three years ago, playing to a half-full 6Music bash at Brum Academy 2, so it's a measure of their progress since that they have sold out the much bigger Wulfrun Hall tonight. Back in 2004 it was the first leg of their first major tour outside the US and they were in playful mood, but tonight they clearly have a head for business and it's four songs in before we get much of a peep out of any of 'em.

The show starts, brilliantly, with new album opener 'Sleeping Lessons', whose quiet/loud dynamics (imagine a more wistful Wedding Present) kick things into motion from the get-go. While on record this track offers a release from tension that the rest of the album steadily builds back up again without a final payoff, The Shins' live show (up to four guitars playing at a time, plus the girl from Viva Voce adding adhoc backing vox and tambourine tapping) adds sufficient bollocks to their back catalogue that this is not a problem repeated during the concert. 'Australia' and 'Phantom Limb' emerge most emphatically from 'Wincing The Night Away', while the no-mouth all-trousers 'Kissing The Lipless'; 'Turn A Square' (whose skifflerock shuffle pilfers from the Beatles so ruthlessly that Heather Mills McCartney would weep with envy if she ever heard it) and delirious encore 'So Says I' all remain irresistable highlights of their past glories.

There are those that ask, what gives with The Shins? How come they can crossover to mainstream success in the way that contemporaries like The Decemberists and The New Pornographers notably fail? Clearly the 'Garden State' factor has helped them, but contrary to the Natalie Portman character's protestations these are probably the least life-changing band currently in the indie firmament.

But perhaps the question should be looked at from the other way round: why weren't The Shins bigger sooner? They write clean-sounding catchy tunes with literate lyrics and just enough grit to stop them sinking into the MORass, like a Crowded House unsettled by an undertow of subsidence. And in Mercer, they have a fascinating frontman who sings about flirting with 'The Dark Side' on 'Red Rabbits' and the possibility of him following through with this at some point gives them an edge over their rivals, even though for now the sweet melodies and harmonies keep getting in the way.

The New Chris Scene

StrangeTime/Vigilante/The Part Time Punks, Varsity, Wolverhampton, Saturday March 17 2007.

We enter the Varsity's all-day punk party not with a mohican but a quizzical expression as The Part Time Punks are explaining their song with an associated dance move (remember them?). 'We're not asking you to go out and shoot a politician', they explain, 'just to do the handbrake!'. A Parallax View health warning is needed here: do not attempt this dance move on an icy surface. As for the band, they were spiky enough, but we'd have kind of liked 'em better if they *were* trying to tell us to shoot politicians. That's the problem with anarchy these days - standards are slipping.

Next up are StrangeTime, our fourth time seeing Kate Finch and company, but the first in their new post-Tara incarnation. Ms. Hartel's attitude and decolletage are thus replaced by the more relaxed and mobile Chris Maher who offers a useful counterpoint to Kate's edgy presence and The Boy John's energetic drumming action.

The roll-on roll-off schedule means that the band arrive on stage using first number 'Ex' as the soundcheck, but technical issues are ironed out in time for mooted single 'Personality Disorder' which has built up into a roaring beast of a track that is getting airplay on WM and Kerrang! and no doubt all other good radio stations. Despite a short set time (25mins, running order fact fans) they risk a new number ('it's not very punk, I'm afraid' gulps our chanteuse) which goes down well, before finishing with a triumphant effusion of 'Lust' which grabs the attention of the young men stood behind your correspondent. 'There's something about a girl and a guitar', one of them sighs, and indeed on this evidence it's hard to disagree.

Then, while Phill pops to the chipshop and the band towel themselves down (or whatever bands do apres-gig) your correspondent tried to keep his flowing locks inconspicuous as possible as Vigilante climb on stage to an enthusiastic reception from the biggest fanbase of the night thus far. The band don't get many points for subtlety or originality but we're a sucker for shouty harmonies and sweaty energy so find the performance more entertaining than we'd normally care to admit.

Still, later in the Posada, your suddenly loquacious hack does have cause to observe that the group gave the impression of being 'the type of people who listened to Green Day before they listened to The Clash, and that's the wrong way round, if you ask me'. Unfortunately, a knuckle sandwich of skinheads at the bar appear to think Dead Kenny is referring to them, so we skiddadle into the pub's centre, where the short-haired contingent of our congregation hide in the pub's cubby-hole while us bravehearted long-hairs are left transfixed by the twin over-exposure of the pub's TV screen and Fearne Cotton's two-chicken-fillets-short-of-a-C-Cup cleavage, Cotton's buds offering a more comforting alternative to the suspicious stares of the locals...

Please Don't Tell Me To Boo The Hath

Charlotte Hatherley, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Saturday March 3 2007, 8.30pm.

And so, man about a horse having been seen (oh, do keep up), your blinking (or should that be blinkered?) correspondent found himself faced with a tube network snafu (Northern Line down for maintenance, Piccadilly Line closed in both directions due to a stalled train) necessitating a sharp run for a bus to get back to Euston. With no mobile phone (left on charge at home, d'oh!) to arrange any hook-ups, there was little alternative but to jump on the first Pendolino back up to Brum.

The evening, dear reader, was not to end there, as your cultural correspondent came to the swift conclusion that this hasty exit strategy opened up the opportunity to get to the Second City in time to catch the Charlotte Hatherley show at Tbe Academy that very night. And so it came to pass, with tickets available on walk-up for a tenner, but only after the security staff insisted in furtling through your bleary hack's overnight bag (successfully avoiding a sneer when browsing the previous night's kecks).

With a relatively early start (curfew for tonight's show is 9.30pm!) and a venue only two-thirds full there was a noticeable lack of atmosphere that never quite picked up as the evening progressed, despite the best efforts of the Really Rather Good Charlotte on her first tour since officially splitting from Ash.

Given that Hatherley's arrival as a precocious teenager into that group sparked their transformation from harmless pop-punks into fully-fledged turbo-charged rawk monsters, with a sound muscular enough to force them onto metal festival bills, it's been curious how Charlotte's solo stuff has been characterised by pop nous and thoughtful arrangements rather than fiery bluster. With half of the material unfamiliar to the audience (second album The Deep Blue didn't emerge until the following Monday) this perhaps partly explains her inability to energise members of the audience expecting something less subtle than the fare on offer.

That said, Charlotte balances the set well between tracks from the new album (Again; Be Thankful and Roll Over Let It Go particularly sticking in the memory) and some of the stand-out choons from well-received debut 'Grey To Fade', including classic radio pop hit 'Summer' and a particularly feisty rendition of 'Bastardo' (whoever the source of ire is, one's left in little doubt the wounds still run deep). And yet the encore calls are a little half-hearted and barely deserve what they get: a live rarity (a splendid track from the 'Behave' ep) and a cover of XTC's 'This Is Pop' (Andy Partridge co-wrote 'Dawn Treader' from the new album, incidental pop fact fans).

If Ms Hatherley left the venue that night feeling a little deflated, however, she would be wrong. Dead Kenny headed home with a philosophical assessment of the the venue vibe but also with several hooks from her new songs burrowed deep into his brain, making a purchase of the album sufficiently vital to merit prescription. Charlotte has the smarts to aim high with her solo material, seeking a synthesis between the glacial pop of Blondie and the elaborate songwriting constructions of Kate Bush. In truth, 'The Deep Blue' falls just short of matching those antecedents at their respective peaks, but the potential is evidently there, and if she continues to get support from the money men her third album might provide something very special indeed.

Los Weekend

Los Campesinos!/Sky Larkin/Johnny Foreigner/Kate Goes, Barfly, Birmingham, Friday March 2 2007.

So there your correspondent was a week or so back, getting his chopsticks in a twist whilst sampling the Vietnamese cuisine at Cafe Soya (lovely dumplings, by the way), trying to persuade some of the great and the good of Birmingham's blogging elite past and present to entertain the notion of coming along to the Los Campesinos! gig. And if not, why not, etc. Great steaming noodles, the excuses were pathetic!

"High stakes gambling in Vegas" offered the Huxster. Red card offence, and we're not referring to the Jack Of Hearts!

"Tokyo long enough (away?)" replied the Prykemeister. On an Eastern Promise, presumably...

"Looking after a mad woman in Edinburgh" ventured A. But Care In The Community should never get in the way of a good gig, surely!

"I've been to see them 153 times already" added Cardiff correspondent Ben "and blogged about it".

Well, OK, that last one was a lie that we made up because Dead Kenny can't remember Ben's exact mumbled excuse (living about 200 miles away might have had something to do with it, though). But you get the picture, this was a gig everyone was falling over themselves to avoid, including Russ L who decided to get Wood and see Acorn Antiques: The Musical instead. So it was left to your humble and, indeed, socially excluded correspondent to venture into Digbeth's dungeon and report on the best collection of bands you could ever hope to see in Brum for a fiver. Could we stay sober and out of trouble long enough to do it justice? Well, of course we couldn't, but you know you want to read on, anyway:

Kate Goes have already gotten this party started by the time your sodden correspondent arrives on the scene, and as befits a band given the Prykemeister seal of approval, they deliver skewiff anti-folk with a good-natured studenty enthusiasm. All of which could be more irritating than engaging were it not for the fact they have some really good songs, a particular highlight being their choon about Kung Fu, which ends with a hearty 'Fuk Yu!'. Proof positive that passive aggression kills tweepop stereotyping. Stone dead. We'd go and see this band again, and only partially to find out who Kate is, and whether she does indeed go.

Next up Johnny Foreigner smuggle themselves up on stage with their own brand of black market prophylaptic rock which owes something of a debt to The Pixies. Short sharp songs with shouty singing and helter-skeltering guitar riffs delivered with a sexy swagger and given long and vaguely amusing titles (eg. Yr All Just Jealous Of My One Good Song) are the order of the day and our limbs have no option but to obey. Just don't tell the Revenue, 'kay?

The dictionary definition for skylarking is 'to play actively and boisterously' but it's a case of never mind the frolics when Leeds hopefuls Sky Larkin enter the fray. From their pre-publicity we were expecting something ethereal and folky but, although there is a bit of rootsiness about them, there is an equal measure of rock raunchiness and the lead singer has a piercing gaze that suggests she doesn't suffer fools gladly. And indeed you'd be a muppet to miss out on the opportunity to catch Sky Larkin before they soar sonically towards the stratosphere with the broad appeal of songs like 'Somersault' sure to vault them towards victory. Or at the very least a spot on Later...with Jools Holland.

First came across Cardiff headliners and veritable internet sensations Los Campesinos! when skatterbrain posted the mp3 of 'You!Me!Dancing!' last summer, after which Simon and Ben were also early adopters long before NME got their lardy past-it arse into gear with them. If you even have to get past the majesty of 'Y!M!D!' it's not hard to fathom what the big deal is about the band - they combine the accessible lo-fi feel of twee with the sweep and compassion of Arcade Fire and they have big thumping tunes with fuck-off choruses and they are HUGE FUN. More fun than TOKYO! More fun than VEGAS! On-a-par fun with looking after mad people in EDINBURGH! As anyone who witnessed your correspondent amidst the mosh upfront, banging people with balloons as he sang along at the top of his lungs (a fearful, if tuneful, bellow, to be sure) to 'You! Me! Dancing!', during which all three support bands joined onstage, would surely attest.

But, wait! Dead Kenny's too old for this sort of frenetic fun! NURSE, THE DEFRIBILATORS! Oh, OK, panic over. Just get me the NURSE!

Anyway, must go now, have to see a man about a horse tomorrow. Should be blindin'...

Scarf Ace

Blood Red Shoes/Vena Carva/The Black Flash/Kid Captain, Little Civic, Wolverhampton, Tuesday February 13 2007.

The last time we came across Kid Captain they were quietly impressing in support of Archie Bronson Outfit and Comanechi last April, and we expected them to being doing better things by now than propping up a four-band show at The Little Civic like this. Their winning blend of fraggle and shoegazing (imagine Mega City 4 metamorphosing into a sonic cathedral and you kinda get the picture) gets things off to a bright and engaging start although that one killer tune still presently eludes them.

First impressions on The Black Flash are that they're out of their depth in this sorta company. But whether it's just a case of nerves or poor choice of opening material, they make an unusually mercurial recovery and by the end of the set we're scouring for superlatives rather than readying for a panning. New single 'We Love Tokyo' is out on Wanderlust Records on April 2 and can be streamed from their myspace.

At this point spot a very pretty brunette with porcelain skin, well wrapped up with a scarf wandering around furtively in front of your correspondent. The things people will do to get a crowdwatch mention on PV. Harrumph.

Stop short of remonstrating with the young lady in question for hustling my column inches, as Vena Carva clamber on stage, having seemingly brought with them the entire occupants of their sixth form common room. The slightly gauche private party feel (complete with one of the politest and most self-conscious stage invasions your louche hack has ever witnessed through his bloodshot eyes) doesn't however distract from a promising set that at various stages reminds us of Bloc Party and Pale Saints with a faint drizzling of emo.

Imagine your clapped-out correspondent's embarrassment, dear reader, when the scarf-clad brunette from earlier turns out to be the singer/guitarist Laura-Mary from headliners Blood Red Shoes! In my beleagured defence, the promo pictures suggested someone more vampish and heavily mascara'd than the demure-looking damsel currently stage front, although appearances can be deceptive as their set goes to show.

Reading* apparently makes Laura-Mary sick and it's immediately clear that time avoiding libraries and newsagents has been well spent boning up on Bikini Kill and Sleater-Kinney as her singing and guitar-playing supplies the hard rock edge to the duo's sound. Drummer Steven Ansell also sings, at a not dissimilar key to Laura-Mary, creating an unusual harmonising effect for a boy-girl pairing. While the band's influences can be traced here and there, they're synthesised into a unique sound that goes beyond their core components, producing powerful rock music with genuine melodic flair. Best new band of 2007? Could just be that Blood Red Shoes will show a clean pair of well-turned heels to the chasing pack in the coming months.

*as in what you do with books, not the Berkshire town. Although it's entirely possible that place makes her gag and vom as well.