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Camera Obscura
Brighton, Komedia
Article written by
Alex S - Apr 24, 2007
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With Adrienne Poster’s hair and a dress borrowed from the Vernon Girls, Tracyanne Campbell stepped into the leaden grey shoebox of the Komedia to deliver a master class in demure, shimmering wistful pop. Proud and precious, cool as fuck too, Tracyanne harks back to Britain’s 60’s girl revolution, kick-started by that other Scotland female icon Lulu, before Decca turned her into “another cod-supper balladeer”. Rarely have I seen a performer with such personal magnetism, so completely in control of her band. She’s even employed two Easterhouse heavies in her fetching six piece ensemble, clearly brought in to ‘mind’ the girls just in case o’ trouble.
Pop’s eternal theme of love dominates much of the content of their third album ‘Let’s Get out of This Country’, whose songs this performance mainly showcase. John Peel once wrote that he was a dotty, dippy, dozy, dreadful delirious romantic, and I can see why he loved them and why they played at the private party for his 65th birthday. But despite the overarching 60’s girlie band feel of much of their sound, this is no wall of bubblegum pop or heart-warming Disney movies. Sure the songs are about love, but love with a bittersweet twist. Yearning (‘We’ll find a cathedral city, you can convince me I’m pretty”); hope without belief (“I’m ready to be heartbroken, cos I can’t see further than my own nose at this moment”); pain (“I once had a love but soon had enough, he was a false contender”). The charred landscape of the male psyche was fully explored this evening; it’s the sperm by the way, it makes us evil. The female audience appreciated this, the male crowd apologised, which made for an unusually sanguine audience.
Tracyanne recounted five years ago crying in the toilets the last time they were in Brighton, when one man and his dog showed up, impervious to the birdsong on stage. Tonight’s sell-out crowd felt a special resonance. Having said that, beneath those doleful Scottish eyes there is a backbone of steel. When a bottle smashed during Country Mile, shortly after the band had delivered a very post-modern apology “Seen our shameful Tesco’s sell-out? Sorry, but we don’t give a fuck” the put down was withering. And witness the Prime of Miss Jean Brodie moment when the chattering crowd were silenced by a slowly rising finger to her lips.
Finally, a word about the venue. This is my third gig here in recent months, and every time the sound has been well balanced and clear. I hope finally this venue is about to challenge the lazy supremacy in Brighton of the Concorde2, which manages to turn almost every band into a dense prog rock fog. For those keen to join the (polka) dots, The Girls’ Scene of Decca Originals or the first few ‘Here Come the Girls’ compilations are a good start. For my part, having come to the band woefully late with the third album, I’m off to buy the first two. Camera Obscura are simply wonderful.
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