I’m sat here, listening to “Bleachers” by Bleachers the Album and curiously wondering “How do I put this show into words”. What a spectacular evening. Indie, Opera, Fire Alarms, Chaotic Toast Ballads, it truly had everything.
Dom Porter
A shrill, hollow harmony of barbed synthetic feedback flays the PA.
Vocals layer, higher and higher and contort into a put-upon howl, the bass fills the room.
Though the repetition is intense, the constant singing is numbing and readying, pulling to sweep you under, they do well to keep their body language in tune and light humoured.
The drummer in particular is a remarkably interesting and passionate performer and my opinion of him is cemented irrefutably in respect for his Mustache that performs with equal gusto as his face shifts and tenses.
A space between my teeth harmonising in a fine buzz is proof to me that the bass is full and textured thickly.
It is easy to abandon your concentration and be psychologically messaged by a wave of shining discourse that evolves delicately and tastefully. The samples he distorts and delays fall into a Lofi Lied-Motif of aching nonchalance and the stage explodes into a possession of spaghetti inspired wilful abandon.
Fast breathe contrasting beautifully with the rising sequel of a deafening ambient siren and mixed to create the Ureka of a total depressive breakdown.
The darkness of the venue and the grey of your still pupils blend. They wail of loss and grief. The guitarist acts as the cherry to top, throwing her stoicism to the wind and donning a Wayne’s World boogie into the spotlight. Find them on Spotify or Instagram
Amy Helen
The stage is set somewhat as a dress rehearsal.
Donned in a black silhouette costume she stands and adressess the crowd in a poem about self identity, pride and loss.
I was not expecting then the Opera singing, in what I can only assume was Latin. In The Crofters Rights’ main room. What?
A series of metaphorical soliloque, a confrontation of personal truths explained in flattering humour and confident act. A delicately delivered script, written like a finely tailored suit and explored with depth and commitment.
A formative, one woman show that exhibits self-awareness through the transformative, sophisticated clarity of a Disney Classic about a 30 second walk away from Turbo Island. Breathtakingly contrasting the crackheads trying to summon Flint Lockwood's Machine from “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” with their inane dances as the ground burns.
Although I do believe most of the people in the venue that day spoke fluent Latin, Amy projected the translated lyrics on the wall behind her, just in case.
As the set ended, the wall of noise bricking down from each fire alarm in the building erupted and the audiences attentions remained cemented on Amy, unphased, determined to finish her performance which she did to a staggering applause. Find her on Instagram
Hector Who Lived
The scene breaks through foggy, ol’ western horns.
A curious opening in the lighting reveals an argument between the band members over who holds the title of “Hector”.
The dramatically light-hearted, maniacally bottled deviance of youth, style and comedy found in the body of an introverted 00’s pop star dad. It’s rather fantastic.
If MIKA was written by Roald Dahl and dressed by Adam Sandler and overcome with ADHD.
The band throw quick wit and the room catches it like a reflection.
All instrumentation, particularly the drummer and bassist are incredibly steady, reliable and have great personalities to add on the stage. The same can and should be said for everyone on the stage.
When the bassist switches to a swelling brass, it dives into a jazzy breakdown of saxophonic chromaticism and deep whining, moving chaos that dies as fast as you noticed it was rising.
This next part was something that was an absolute privilege to experience and I thank the band for what is my now most favoured memory of live music to date.
A routine emerges from the bassist (Dazzlingly charming man) who announces a competition to create an improvised song on stage, the reward for which will be a blind date with one of the band members.
After a brief interview, a very funny interaction between interviewee and band and a very receptive crowd what followed was a magnum opus of improvised drama, fanatically beating every member of the crowd like the pulsing heart of Freddie Mercury in his prime. Seeing so much passion, energy and movement like the waving hands piloting the chant “TOAST CAFEEEEEEEEE!!!” in the venue had become the belly of a rocking ship and I have no words other than magical, pure and organic.
Absolutely, endearingly fantastic.
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