Beth Jeans Houghton
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This is probably stating the bleedin’ obvious, but you can never truly love a band’s music, if you don’t love them. This human condition is at the heart of a law known as ‘Amy versus Joss’. On-line music retailers, and their ‘you might also be interested in this ’ software, are clearly unaware of this ‘law’. You get identified as a fan of ‘soul’, and the assumption is you’d be a fan of both singers. The truth is somewhat different. Whereas I’ll happily wait another ten years for Winehouse to deliver another great album, I’d be delighted if I never heard another note from Stone for the rest of my life. You see, being inspired, and touched by music is never just about the melody, the lyrics, more than anything it’s about the love for an artist. It’s this love that decrees that we stick with them through both the good and the bad times.
And it’s in this spirit of forgiveness and generosity, that I’m back in Brighton to see Beth Jeans Houghton tonight. Three months ago I was at Audio, to see them play to the proverbial one man and his dog. Their performance that night was lack-lustre, uninspiring, nervous, almost apologetic. To be fair, as an audience we did little to help them, tucking ourselves away in the corners, afraid to occupy the awkward emptiness in front of the stage.
It’s different tonight. The venue is packed. Nobody is skulking in the shadows. Also, there have been some changes since their last outing. For starters, there’s now a trumpet player. As well as adding another dimension to their sound, he’s a big lad, and I fancy he also keeps an eye out for potential Beth stalkers. Ironically, the only unwanted verbal attention she received all night, was not from the suspiciously large number of male amateur photographers seedily storing images into their digital wank banks, but from a somewhat giddy member of the three-strong lesbian mini-moshpit, who cheekily enquired: “Are you straight?” (For the record, the reply was an embarrassed laugh and smile.)
The boys in the band – The Hooves Of Destiny – have had a small makeover too. Bowler hats, face painting, and false black twirly moustaches, felt tipped on their upper lips. Bless ‘em for making the effort. But to be honest, they could have been standing on that stage butt naked with their cocks restrained by gaffer tape, and the audience wouldn’t have noticed. There’s only one reason why a curious, should-know-better Soundsxp reviewer, is standing in the front row with the mob of up-skirt paparazzi photographers – it’s Beth.
Walking on stage in a pink and black, skin-tight lycra cat suit, the flash bulbs are going off, the mobile phone cameras are everywhere, and I’m forced to rest my pint on the stage. The confidence of youth is a wonderful thing to behold. You really need balls to get away with wearing a ‘dress’ like that. Actually, on reflection, the last thing you need in that outfit is a pair of bollocks! Juxtaposed with the dress, is a platinum blonde wig, the shape disturbingly reminiscent of the Elephant Man’s head. The audience collects its breath; the photographer’s shuffle home to their Flickr fantasies, and the band begin to play.
Beth Jeans Houghton
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They are good tonight. I’ll leave the genre police to try and pigeonhole BJH. What I experienced, was a delicate, at times fragile, at times ballsy female vocal, charmingly at odds with her native Geordie brogue. The set features tracks from the EP ‘Hot Toast Vol 1’, which the band take great pleasure in telling us has sold out the remaining 19 copies at the bar. We hear the traditional folk balladry of ‘Anne Crumb’ and ‘Golden’ plus the more thigh-slapping romp of crowd favourite ‘I Will Return I Promise’. For me, the highlight was the sublime track ‘Dodecahedron’, lyrically and musically stunning. (Notwithstanding Manilow’s ‘Bermuda Triangle’, this is by far and away my favourite song about geometry).
Playing to a bigger audience, hasn’t intimidated them, it’s actually given them the confidence to enjoy themselves. They have a warmth and charm that is infectious. Their banter between songs reveals an innocence that is endearing. Tales of the drummer’s abscess, finding dead rats on Brighton beach, and the bassist's previous life as a cast member in Byker Grove (it’s the second time I’ve heard that story now) should by rights have us slow-handclapping and yawning, but we smile and giggle, because we like them. We even forgive them the shambolic and lengthy attempts to get effects pedals to work, and even when a song ends in disarray because they’ve all forgotten they were meant to start singing harmonies at this point, we still don’t waiver in our support.
On tonight’s performance, BJH are definitely deserving of your love.
Whatever your opinion regarding the merits of the BBC Sounds of 2010 poll, you have to concede that it affords bands incredible publicity, and pretty much guarantees you an audience for your next set of tour dates. Tonight’s gig is almost sold out, and I’d wager half of the crowd are here purely on the strength of the inclusion of Stornoway in that list. I’m wondering, as are a lot of tonight’s punters, whether their brand of ‘bloke-folk’ is deserving of a place in the winners poll, or whether it’s just hype. I’m reminded that the 2008 BBC poll winners featured Vampire Weekend, Ting Tings, MGMT – but also Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong. A sobering thought. Will they be a triumph, or a disaster?
They are neither. After the fancy dress of BJH, Stornoway take the stage with a minimum of fuss. There is no visual gimmickry, no “Hello Brighton, how you all doing?” nonsense. For these guys, and the audience, this will ALL be about the music.
Stornoway peform like seasoned pros. There is real substance here, and it’s immediately evident that these guys can play. They are supremely confident, relaxed, personable, highly talented and technically accomplished. The songs are well crafted, the melodies lush and uplifting, none of this is hit and miss, the whole set is uniformly appealing.
But, despite all their undoubted talents, there’s no love there for me. They do make me laugh once mind, but only with the silly rhyming in the single ‘Zorbing’ (“lying in your attic, I can feel the static”). Their performance was effortless. But I wanted to see some passion. It was all too controlled for my taste. I don’t want them to start trashing their violins, but breaking sweat would be a start. They’re just too nice for me, the sort of lads you’d be happy for your daughter to bring home. Great husband material, but not rock ‘n’ roll stars.
As I wander home, I’m sure I catch a glimpse of BJH riding the dodgems and eating a bag of chips on the pier, whilst in a quieter part of town, Stornoway sit in their hotel rooms, writing postcards to send home to their folks.
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