Here's a review I wrote on the ATL site.
I have to say, the Menagerie is a great wee venue since they've changed it about a bit. Last time I was there, the stage was to the left when you come downstairs, and it was a bit of a mess trying to move around the place at all. Much better where they have it now. It's got a great wee vibe about it too - feels a bit like being in a gig in someone's house, it's very cosy and welcoming feeling and quirky without being too trendy or hipster.
I really enjoyed War Hole too. They have a very messy, "we don't really care that much, we're just here for the craic" sort of thing going on, but they're awful craic chatting back and forth to the crowd and telling daft stories and what not, and they seem very at ease on the stage, even when there's only a few people there.
Documenta could've done with taking a leaf out of their book. Musically, they're not bad, but there's nothing that wildly original about them, and it takes more than a few half decent riffs to stand out in this town.
The Jane Bradfords have long been favourites of mine on the local scene, so I suppose it's no great surprise that I have nothing bad to say about them. The stuff from the new album, which I believe is almost ready for release, is sounding really great, and it's a huge indicator of the talent and musiciality they possess in bucketloads that they really do sound like they're progressing from the last album. It's not more of the same, it's not a wild leap in a different direction just for the sake of it. It feels organic and right, for want of a better word. As for the gig itself - I wouldn't say it was their best performance ever, but it wasn't a bad one in any way at all. They're bringing a lot more to the table when they play the old stuff these days, and it's hard not to be blown away by the sophistication of song writing. Hopefully the new album gets them some of the attention they deserve.
By the way, I feel like I should issue a disclaimer and point out at this stage that I have absolutely no idea what the hell I'm talking about when I write gig reviews. I'm not a musician in any way, shape or form (many, many years of violin desecretion, or 'playing' as I called it at the time, testify to that). I got into doing this sort of thing just cos I love music, and I think the local scene here in NI is pretty damn great at the minute. I'm not the most knowledgable person in the world, and I've been a little out of the loop the last year or so, but I do take an interest in alternative music - by which I mean, I'm not a Radio 1 listener pertaining to be a cool indie kid. There's nothing cool about me, I assure you. I confess that I do wear black rimmed glasses, but I have a prescription, and they're not the super-sized hipster ones that yer woman off of Britain's Next Top Model wears. Ok, disclaimer-ramble over.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Thursday, 9 September 2010
Iron & Wine Review, Or How I Learned To Not Hit People That Are Dicks.
(First off, I feel like I should issue the disclaimer that this isnt a *proper* review, it's mostly just my meandering waffling about a gig I was at last night.)
Right. So. I went to see Iron & Wine and The Low Anthem last night in the marquee in Custom House Square as part of the Openhouse Festival. The marquee is gorgeous - draped in black fabric with fairy lights all over the ceiling, it really is like a night under the stars. Openhouse always seem to do a great job with this event, from what I've seen of it anyway. The stage looked great, the sound was perfect. So no complaints so far. The gig was seated, which is not my favourite thing in the world, for a few reasons. First of all, it means you're confined to one spot - you can't try to move really, if you can't see, and my being a short arse means I can rarely see. The venue was a lot more packed than I was expecting, though it's really my fault for not getting down early enough to get a good seat. Another reason that I don't like seated gigs is that I feel weirdly constrained. I can't move naturally to the music like I normally would, as pretentious and ridiculous as that sounds.
But the worst thing about being seated - at this gig, at least - is that I seemed to have the world's worst gig goers both in front of and behind me. In front of me were a middle aged couple intent on getting completely lit and talking and laughing ridiculously loudly the whole way through the gig. Literally, they didn't shut up. They were pissing off a few people around them, so it wasn't just me, and I really wanted to hug the girl who asked them to keep their voices down, though it didn't work. Then behind me I had another couple who didn't stop talking the whole way through the show. The girl had one of the more annoying laughs not to have been phased out by evolution, and they were talking to each other at full volume, not making any attempt at all to keep their voices down.
All of this would be annoying enough at any gig, but something like The Low Anthem and Iron & Wine, where it's a quiet, mellow, low key sort of evening - they just ruined it for everyone around them. It was a beautiful gig - soulful, touching, emotive songs performed by amazing - and acoustic - musicians. The sort of gig that you normally get complete silence at, which turns it into a wonderful experience - to be amongst a large crowd of people all mesmerized and reverent in the prescence of such artistry. Unfortunately for those of us near these idiots, we did not have such an experience. We had increased blood pressure, as we resisted the urge to visit intense and torturous violence upon these apes.
As for the actual music itself, as I've said, it was beautiful. I don't know The Low Anthem or Iron & Wine very well - I've heard a few albums, familiar with a few songs I've heard on the radio, that sort of thing, but I couldn't really call myself a proper fan. And often at gigs like this, I end up feeling a bit frustrated that I didn't get more into the music beforehand so that the songs would be more familiar. But it didn't seem to matter in this instance - the music just washed over you, bathing you in its serene yet melancholy folky charm. Well, when I could hear it over the buffoons around me, anyway.
Well, this was not meant to be such a rant on gig etiquette. I've vented and ranted about this subject many, many times before. I've lamented why it is that Belfast crowds are like that, as I've been to manys a show where people just cannot shut the hell up (Willy Mason at Mandela a few years back was the pinacle of ignorance in this regard), but I feel like I need to point out that none of the ignorant shitheads around me were Belfasties (Belfastians? Belfastittes?). That's not to say they don't live here, so I suppose it doesn't really make any difference, they were still annoying, but I felt some small modicum of pride that when I walked to and from the bar, everyone else seemed to be quiet enough, so the Belfast audience wasn't all that bad.
So to sum up: music=good, dickheads=bad.
Right. So. I went to see Iron & Wine and The Low Anthem last night in the marquee in Custom House Square as part of the Openhouse Festival. The marquee is gorgeous - draped in black fabric with fairy lights all over the ceiling, it really is like a night under the stars. Openhouse always seem to do a great job with this event, from what I've seen of it anyway. The stage looked great, the sound was perfect. So no complaints so far. The gig was seated, which is not my favourite thing in the world, for a few reasons. First of all, it means you're confined to one spot - you can't try to move really, if you can't see, and my being a short arse means I can rarely see. The venue was a lot more packed than I was expecting, though it's really my fault for not getting down early enough to get a good seat. Another reason that I don't like seated gigs is that I feel weirdly constrained. I can't move naturally to the music like I normally would, as pretentious and ridiculous as that sounds.
But the worst thing about being seated - at this gig, at least - is that I seemed to have the world's worst gig goers both in front of and behind me. In front of me were a middle aged couple intent on getting completely lit and talking and laughing ridiculously loudly the whole way through the gig. Literally, they didn't shut up. They were pissing off a few people around them, so it wasn't just me, and I really wanted to hug the girl who asked them to keep their voices down, though it didn't work. Then behind me I had another couple who didn't stop talking the whole way through the show. The girl had one of the more annoying laughs not to have been phased out by evolution, and they were talking to each other at full volume, not making any attempt at all to keep their voices down.
All of this would be annoying enough at any gig, but something like The Low Anthem and Iron & Wine, where it's a quiet, mellow, low key sort of evening - they just ruined it for everyone around them. It was a beautiful gig - soulful, touching, emotive songs performed by amazing - and acoustic - musicians. The sort of gig that you normally get complete silence at, which turns it into a wonderful experience - to be amongst a large crowd of people all mesmerized and reverent in the prescence of such artistry. Unfortunately for those of us near these idiots, we did not have such an experience. We had increased blood pressure, as we resisted the urge to visit intense and torturous violence upon these apes.
As for the actual music itself, as I've said, it was beautiful. I don't know The Low Anthem or Iron & Wine very well - I've heard a few albums, familiar with a few songs I've heard on the radio, that sort of thing, but I couldn't really call myself a proper fan. And often at gigs like this, I end up feeling a bit frustrated that I didn't get more into the music beforehand so that the songs would be more familiar. But it didn't seem to matter in this instance - the music just washed over you, bathing you in its serene yet melancholy folky charm. Well, when I could hear it over the buffoons around me, anyway.
Well, this was not meant to be such a rant on gig etiquette. I've vented and ranted about this subject many, many times before. I've lamented why it is that Belfast crowds are like that, as I've been to manys a show where people just cannot shut the hell up (Willy Mason at Mandela a few years back was the pinacle of ignorance in this regard), but I feel like I need to point out that none of the ignorant shitheads around me were Belfasties (Belfastians? Belfastittes?). That's not to say they don't live here, so I suppose it doesn't really make any difference, they were still annoying, but I felt some small modicum of pride that when I walked to and from the bar, everyone else seemed to be quiet enough, so the Belfast audience wasn't all that bad.
So to sum up: music=good, dickheads=bad.
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Certified Copy review
Well, this was a bit of a strange one. Certified Copy stars Juliette Binoche and William Shimnell, it’s directed by Abbas Kiarostami, it’s set in Tuscany, it has subtitles and that’s probably about all I can tell you without giving too much away. Although saying that there’s anything to give away probably gives too much away in the first place…
On the face of it, Certified Copy is something of a romantic comedy – but not as we know it, Jim. It plays with the clichés and formulaic conventions of rom coms that we’ve become accustomed to, to the point that you’re not quite sure what you’re watching. The pacey, snappy, Technicolor traits of Hollywood are replaced with slow, lolling (as opposed to LOLing) camera work, and beautifully subtle cinematography.
This makes the film very intriguing, almost more of a mystery than a romantic comedy, and definitely lingers on the mind, giving you plenty to think about on the way home. I should be clear, though - this isn't Memento, the plot isn't that twisty, it's just not at all what you might expect from what is essentially a romantic tale.
Binoche gives as great a performance as you’d expect. She is, as always, interesting, engaging and nuanced – and as such, she makes the film an enjoyable and absorbing experience, regardless of what’s going on in it.
So, if you like films that draw you in, play with your head, and give you very pretty Tuscan scenery to look at on the way, then you should check out Certified Copy!
And if you do wanna check out Certified Copy when it opens at the QFT in Belfast this Friday, book a ticket online using the code ORLA10 for a discount! Yay for discounts!
Fuller review with spoilers coming up later, btw.
On the face of it, Certified Copy is something of a romantic comedy – but not as we know it, Jim. It plays with the clichés and formulaic conventions of rom coms that we’ve become accustomed to, to the point that you’re not quite sure what you’re watching. The pacey, snappy, Technicolor traits of Hollywood are replaced with slow, lolling (as opposed to LOLing) camera work, and beautifully subtle cinematography.
This makes the film very intriguing, almost more of a mystery than a romantic comedy, and definitely lingers on the mind, giving you plenty to think about on the way home. I should be clear, though - this isn't Memento, the plot isn't that twisty, it's just not at all what you might expect from what is essentially a romantic tale.
Binoche gives as great a performance as you’d expect. She is, as always, interesting, engaging and nuanced – and as such, she makes the film an enjoyable and absorbing experience, regardless of what’s going on in it.
So, if you like films that draw you in, play with your head, and give you very pretty Tuscan scenery to look at on the way, then you should check out Certified Copy!
And if you do wanna check out Certified Copy when it opens at the QFT in Belfast this Friday, book a ticket online using the code ORLA10 for a discount! Yay for discounts!
Fuller review with spoilers coming up later, btw.
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