Showing posts with label the lanes brighton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the lanes brighton. Show all posts

Friday, 3 September 2010

The Low Anthem, Brighton Komedia


Tonight is an important night for Ben Knox. The Low Anthem front man and multi-instrumentalist has been creating music from penniless pockets and hard graft since around 2004, but it would appear that no hard work goes unrewarded. Tonight, around three and a half thousand miles from home, Knox and his Low Anthem cohorts have created a bubble of distinctive calm in Brighton’s Komedia, and while he begins to tinkle his way through some harmonies sweeter than sugar, we realise that the Low Anthem have more to give than just graceful folk music…

The release of their second record, ‘Oh My God, Charlie Darwin’, was welcomed as a step forward from the gospel folk and ambient coos of their slightly more ‘traditional’ and much for DIY first output, ‘What The Crow Brings’, which was modestly crafted between Knox’s and Jeff Prystowsky’s apartments during 2007. After the 600 pressings of this delicate folk debut sold out, the band begun to horde in more followers around the New England area with more exposure on its way as the critical acclaim heightened and the band won the Providence Phoenix Best Album of 2008 Award.



The DIY and hard-working ethic of this humble outfit who originally sifted through garbage cans in the back alley streets of Providence to find cardboard to create album sleeves was rendered once again. Less than a year after the release of their debut they begun work on their sophomore effort which was to be self-released once again, recorded this time in Block Island in the middle of winter during a pacing ten day session.

With the completion of OMGCD the band set out supporting Ray LaMontage and Josh Ritter throughout the U.S and once Rough Trade Records in the U.K got hold of a copy of their second effort it was made album of the month and then the British bookings flooded in with the band playing Glastonbury, End Of The Road Festival, Hyde Park Calling and Wireless. This must have seemed a long way from the brisk winter bite of the snowy New England months.

What appears evident tonight is something rather brilliant. They have humbly transcended from a roots based DIY folk outfit whose angelic campfire croons have braved the violent face of the electric guitar and actually come out victorious. The three-piece swap instruments onstage like children swapping football stickers in the playground with an unhindered ability to substitute high-pitched holy synchronization with hillbilly Tom Waits growls and retain an untarnished sense of true folk authenticity.

‘To The Ghosts Who Write History Books’ was the chosen track to open tonight’s show. And as people calmly trundle through the sold out Komedia crowd, silence from all but the four-piece onstage ensues. Surprisingly it’s a while until they kick in with some of the rousing hillbilly rock that made their second album that little more inflated, wading their way through ‘Ohio’ and the apocalyptic ironies of ‘Ticket Taker’ before the sweet gasp of ‘Yellowed By The Sun’ sets in prior to a new track which is to appear of their forthcoming third album.



A real moment of clarity came from the title track off their second record. The eerie haunt of Knox’s pitch perfect vocals discard all known boundaries of sense and capability, escalating his high notes to peaks unknown he bellows out the atmospheric beauty as is heard precisely on the record, delicate and wholesome. And while the Low Anthem chop and change squeeze boxes, bass guitars, Gibsons, Hammond’s, drums and all other manor of weird and wonderful instruments, the ninety minute set seems to have been and gone - swallowed by our minds while the flickering heartbeat inside us continues to chase with optimism and excitement as we realise that if all else fails, we have The Low Anthem.

Sunday, 6 September 2009

Brighton's Salvation - The Lanes


I've always queried why Brighton's music scene has never quite produced an act to the potential of its possibilities. On paper it's a breeding ground of brilliance with it's numerous back alley buskers and run-down pubs filled with musical hopefuls, but in reality, it's become a bit of sodomised stag-weekender cauterized by the trail end of The Kooks success and the countless acts honing in on this popular swill pit of substanceless droll so that they can shamelessly attempt to ride the fading ripples of the tidal wave left by these pop sensations.

I mean, the bohemian seaside town dicks all over London's supposed cultural hubs of creativity that plinths image over content in almost any circumstance. Obsessed by the latest passing trend of musical massacre and the glorified shit-storm genre-swapping, synth-chopping tornado left every other week by some soon-to-be irrelevant fuck-wit, I would say it's a churned up, over-rated, minefield of pretentiousness that needs to be extinguished.

Brighton needs something to shoot it back up to the top of the tree. Something that once again flashes glimpses of subversive euphoria and overthrowing enchantment. We've had the Maccabees (who arn't even from Brighton) and other than a handful of heardcore-punk outfits there's been little to give me hope that this spiritual location can actually deliver the fucking goods that it's due to do so.


Enter The Lanes. I saw this group first perform at the gaining-infamous Prince Albert pub while watching New Street Adventure support. I'm usually disappointed with the tirade of fruitless and vain scum-rags who parade the Albert stage at these types of shows, but this was different, this was exciting.

Smashing into a set of trippy psychedelia, the local Brighton gang began to fuse the rock and roll purity of BRMC and the spaced-out, technicolour dance-groove of The Happy Monday's while maintaining the fervour and quality of the Doves. And better than all of that, they provided an authentic performance that demonstrated that they didn't give two flaming shits about image or scenes or all of that monotonous monkey crap that stigmatises new music.

'Raw Ether' is a audio acid trip that paints mind-boggling images of Joy Division's eerie howl humping the elongated growl of Oasis while remaining distinctly Southern, which proves to be vital in this case, primarily because they confirm they are a Southern band and proud of it, they don't need to adhere to any sort of Northern Brit-rock legacy by changing their accent or singing about the lulls of being working class and still wallowing in the oppression of Thatcher's fuck-ups past.

I found their humble presence comforting, which is a dodgey area of assesment at times because this music is partly characterised by attitude and swagger, but only if you've got the gonads to pull off such a stunt. But in this case, a hitatus of ego's was rather lovely, and after hearing them screw the soundwaves of the earth's atmosphere during their set the ever-tiresome, probably disgustingly dullard cliche of music being their outlet of rage actually applied and actually made a shit-load of usually dried up but-not-so-much-now sense.

I'm unable to attain any of their tunes as of now because they're a tiddly band without any major label interest but thrust yourself upon their myspace for some kaleidoscopic whirlwind of splashed out rock'n'smash-your-nuts-off wonderfulness. The Lanes, Brighton's best new band.

http://www.myspace.com/thelanesuk