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The Tamborines/ The See See/ Trimdon Grange/ Circulus
London, Lexington
Article written by
Ged M - Aug 24, 2009
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Space pixie Michael Tyack
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This is a bit of a cheat because this was not one gig but two, on consecutive Thursdays, taking place in the same venue. The Lexington is North London’s best venue these days (compare it with the old Metro which was famous for the mud-in-your-ear sound quality and any-beer-as-long-as-it's-Grolsch attitude) and with its good sightlines, new sound system and sympathetic soundmen, it allows the punter to hear what the best bands do so well.
Which, in the case of the Tamborines, is produce a scalding blast of sculptured noise that best resembles the sweet kiss-punch of the Velvet Underground and is good enough to be on terms with that band. This is probably the best I’ve ever seen them, Henrique more intense and deliberate than ever, Lola keying a seductive drone and new drummer Mark pounding out an industrial beat. This is darkness the way Caravaggio paints it, not a lack of light but almost vibrant with the intensity of the pigment. This is the marker by which all shoegaze will be judged.
My colleague rather rudely describes The See See as a “country rock Oasis”. I protest but there’s something there if you reverse it: The Byrds in Burnage, maybe, the West Coast sound filtered through a punk sensibility. Deconstruct them a bit more and you hear the influence of Lou Reed, Johnny Cash, Spacemen 3 and the sort of ornery old country singers with prison records longer than their musical ones. Their set isn’t slick – the transition from song to song can be a little rough – but it’s carried along by a fiery determination that energises the audience on songs like frenetic psych-out ‘Clap Your Hands and Shake A Chain’ and the jangling, anthemic ‘Keep Your Head’. Given the immediate, crowd-pleasing nature of the songs, maybe the Oasis comparison is a bit of a backhanded complement after all.
Trimdon Grange
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Trimdon Grange (they’ve dropped the “Explosion”) reunites two-thirds of Eighteenth Day of May to play Ben Phillipson’s and Karl Sabado’s songs. Being inspired by the 1882 mining disaster in County Durham, it leans more towards traditional folk, with a vaguer psychedelic feel, carried by Ben’s expressive and impressive guitar playing. The songs are dark and brooding folk, which Alison Cotton interprets so well, her mournful cello adding a maudlin tone. It’s a little funereal at the moment (they only played their first gig in this format in February) so it’s a small relief when Will Summers adds some jaunty crumhorn for the final song. The name is inspired by death but folk music isn’t dead when it’s reinterpreted so intelligently by bands like this.
Circulus
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I almost stopped going to the bar in case they were only offering Michael’s Special Kool-Aid to drink; with their tales of aliens, inter-dimensional travel and the Mayan Calendar’s countdown to the end of the world, Circulus have got all the features of a Doomsday cult. I’m not sure how much you’re really meant to buy into their mushroom fantasies (no-one needs a new Gong) but the medieval fashions, Will Summers’ box of traditional instruments, and Tyack’s child-of-the-universe dialogue creates a woozy psychedelic feel that makes you feel as if you’re tripping vicariously. And it feels very good. Thankfully for my mental health they see the humour in it all, the banter between percussionist Antony and vocalist Holly-Jane straight out of Carry On Circulus!, though the music is serious. Their progressive folk mixes pounding rhythms with pastoral blasts of crumhorn, soaring harmonies and Tyack’s heroic cittern playing. There’s so much to mock (they’re going to look complete tits on 1 January 2013) and you’re never going to hum ‘Power to the Pixies’ in Sainsburys but, immersed in their playing and watching people showing off their village green dance moves, for all my city ways I’m suddenly at one with the prog-rock pixies.
Photos courtesy of the ace face Bob Stuart at Underexposed
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