The Bianca Story and Temper Trap at Magnet, Berlin

THE TEMPER TRAP
THE BIANCA STORY
Magnet, Prenzlauerburg, Berlin

It was an evening that would, kinda inevitably, end with two stony-faced men dressed in black - one smoking - playing cold, minimalist electronic pomp. This was, after all, Berlin. Before stereotypes took hold though, two foreign acts would play sets that made the smallish crowd dance their little German socks off.
Boasting a keyboard/synth/laptop/sampler/nondescript-mad-electro-invention set-up that engulfed half the stage, The Bianca Story (above) vomited forth whopping great big choruses. These five weirdos from Switzerland were led by the twin vocals of a super enthusiastic, tall beardy man with a voice like The Divine Comedy's Neil Hannon and a girl dressed like an 80s prom queen and wielding a keytar. And if that isn't a recipe for awesomeness, then I don't know what is.
I've written enough gushing words about Temper Trap's (above and top) live shows on these pages recently, but suffice to say this was another winning set. Their sound seems to get more and more imposing every time I see them. The four-way vocal barrage of Down River was a perfect example of this. After a familiar set-list and a typically tighter-than-a-duck's-bumhole performance, the quintet packed up and headed to the Amsterdam to continue promoting the upcoming release of their debut record. Expect a review of it here soon.

The Temper Trap and The Virgins at Stream Sessions

I went to London last week to check out some Aussies and some Americans:THE VIRGINS
THE TEMPER TRAP
Stream Sessions, London, 23/04/09

Following in the recent footsteps of Sydney bands Angus & Julia Stone and Ghostwood, Melbourne's The Temper Trap (above) have relocated to England. Before embarking on a host of European festivals, including a spot on The Camden Crawl and at Brighton's Great Escape, they touted their talents at an industry session in central London.

Despite bassist Jonny having the handicap of an amp that refused to work for much of the gig, the show was still typically enthralling. Sweet Disposition, as always, was a highlight, and, the longer the set went on, the louder the cheers from the packed room became. "Wow, that free booze is really starting to kick in," vocalist Dougy suggested with misplaced modesty after a particularly lengthy ovation from a crowd that knew little-to-nothing about the Australians before they had hit the stage. On this showing, the Victorians are set to make waves when their debut album hits the shelves later this year and, quite simply, if England doesn't take to The Temper Trap, then England is wrong.


The Virgins (above) arrived on a wave of hype. Frontman Donald Cumming - shirtless and with bow tie - swaggered around stage, hands on hips like the bastard child of Mick Jagger. Maybe it was due to the slightly muddy sound in the room, but their songs lacked the sleazy electro edge of their self-titled debut album. Okay, so there was nothing especially wrong with their show, but it was hard to see why people are getting just so excited about this bunch of New Yorkers. Sure, songs like Rich Girls were fun and, if The Strokes had never happened, then The Virgins could certianly be considered new and exciting. But The Strokes did happen, like, eight years ago, and it's hard to shift the feeling that it's all been done before. And better.

Franz Ferdinand at The Enmore Theatre

Franz Ferdinand played at the Enmore Theatre last week. Here is my review (pictures by the delicious Daniel Boud and Cybele Malinowski):
FRANZ FERDINAND
THE TEMPER TRAP
RED RIDERS
The Enmore Theatre, Enmore
06/01/09

Local lads, Red Riders, were first on the bill when Franz Ferdinand played Sydney back in 2004. Playing the same slot more than four years on perhaps says something about their career trajectory and, while their performance was solid enough, it felt hackneyed and lacked vitality.

In complete contrast, The Temper Trap’s star is ascending at pace. The Melbourne five-piece (whose numbers have been temporarily boosted by a supplementary guitarist due to frontman Dougy’s hand injury) put on a thrilling display that had so much going on it was hard to take it all in. Their songs were anthemic and ambitious, as Dougy’s (below), nuanced, soulful voice soared over keys, guitar, bass, percussion, handclaps and three backing-vocals. Their instrumental set closer wasn’t only the highlight of the set, but the standout moment of the whole evening, as three drummers led a mesmerising tribal jam freakout which filled the room with imposing noise. On this display, 2009 may very well be The Temper Trap’s year."What a brilliant idea to wear a leather jacket to a gig in Sydney in January,” sweaty Franz Ferdinand frontman Alex Kapranos joked about his attire, before launching into poptastic singles Do You Want To? and The Dark Of The Matinee. This high-tempo start to the sold-out, all-ages gig was maintained throughout. Come On Home and The Fallen followed, with guitarist Nick McCarthy leading the songs with infectious riffs galore, all the while bopping around with a jolty guitar action, like a robotic Marty McFly.

Take Me Out was discarded early, which suggests the Brits are (understandably) bored of playing it. Though the years have tired it a little, it is still fun slice of pop. With its squishy synths, Ulysses displayed the dancier nature of their upcoming album, and even made their older, angular guitar tracks sound slightly flimsy in comparison. Meanwhile, potential future single No You Girls bridged the gap in sound between their older and newer material.

Michael and This Fire ended the jaunty set with a bang. However, while the well-known songs were enjoyable in a singalong kind of way and had the crowd jumping, it was the new tunes that really stood out and showed, three albums in, that Franz Ferdinand aren’t afraid to branch out in interesting new directions.

The Great Escape Festival

With its laid back vibe, interesting venue and host of alternative attractions, The Great Escape falls into the same category as England’s Latitude Festival and, while the organisers need to perhaps try and lure a few more big name acts next year, there was plenty to see and do over three days of changeable weather.

Friday started with a performance in the VIP area from my dear friends, Angus and Julia Stone (above). After the show I was delighted to hang out with them, catching up with their tales from their time in my homeland, and accompanying them on a photo shoot with the aforementioned Daniel. As the day grew older, it became apparent that I wasn’t really going to see many bands at all. This was largely due to the fact that I simply had no inclination to. It would appear that I am turning into one of those despicable industry people who get free tickets to festivals and then neglect the array of live music on offer. In my defence, I wasn’t reviewing for any publication, and simply enjoyed the freedom of sitting in the sunshine with some friends.


However, in spite of my blasé attitude towards the music, I made sure I caught the acts that I really wanted to see. After enjoying a typically fun show from a sore-throated Ben Kweller, I headed to The Tin Shed to watch Iain Archer. His tunes nicely showcased his songwriting ability, while retaining plenty of charm.

After Archer, it seemed that half of the festival crowd headed to The Terrace to watch Angus and Julia (above, playing the trumpet). Anyone who has ever seen them knows that they are simply wonderful, and on this occasion they were as lovely as ever. The amazing thing about the gig though was the crowd's reaction, which was simply unbelievable. Angus would sing a line, then step back and just watch the crowd sing the words for them. Neither he nor his sister could hide their astonished delight. It was clearly a seminal moment for them, and left me with a genuine sense of emotion that I haven't felt since Morrissey had me in tears at the Reading Festival a few years back. Seriously, seeing their beaming faces utterly awestruck at the reaction they were receiving was truly affecting.
There was no way to suitably follow this rather emotional occasion, certainly not by watching Wolfmother huff and puff their way through a histrionic set on the Village Green Stage (below), and so I headed home for the night.

 
The following day was ruined by the weather before I had even arrived on site. I met up with some of my friends at Central Station and we jumped on a train to Olympic Park. After reaching the park, one must then catch a shuttle bus to the venue. While we were waiting for the bus, the heavens opened and we all got absolutely soaked to the skin. My imitation Converse were like sodden cardboard and my entirely impractical felt jacket acted as a sponge.

The sun came out and dried me off nicely while I watched Little Birdy, who were everything I hate about music - ugly songs fronted by a tryhard lead singer. To be honest though, I was merely killing time before The Magic Numbers, who were the only band I wanted to see on this day. As they were about to start, the rain lashed down again, meaning that, having been dry for approximately 4 minutes, I was completely soaked once more. Lacking an umbrella, raincoat or change of clothes, I was set to be stuck in wet threads for the rest of the day. To be honest, The Magic Numbers were so excellent that I didn't mind the inclement weather. Since I last saw them two years ago, they have improved their stage presence immeasurably, and rocked the Riverside Stage to within an inch of its life. It was a joyous hour of lovingly crafted music, and worth getting drenched for.

A couple of hours’ aimless wandering followed the second magical brother-and-sister show of the weekend. I took in a show by the barking mad Lee Scratch Perry (whose set ended with a Cribs style mass stage invasion). The impressive Children Collide showed plenty of energy but not enough to stop me thinking about my wet feet, and so I made my way home again, in the hope that the decent weather would return for the final day's fun.


To my relief, the sun blazed down as I made my way back to the festival for the last day, and upon arriving I immediately went to admire the beautiful folk music that Lou Rhodes was purveying down by the river. After spending a few minutes gawping at the statuesque Sarah Blasko, it was time to take in Bridezilla (above). It was another very impressive performance, played out to a packed Tin Shed, and saw the second mass stage invasion of the festival during singalong set-closer Saint Francine.

After the quintet had spent forty minutes wowing me, I took in the end of The Lemonheads’ show, saw some stuff on the cabaret stage, made a fool of myself at Swingball, and hung out with old and new friends, all while I really should have been watching Gomez.

 
Finally, The Temper Trap (above) rocked my socks off with a familiar-looking string section, and a show that was infectiously energetic and exciting. They really are great to watch live. Then, as others went to check out The Roots, and then made an impact on the booze at the afterparty, it was time for me to bid The Great Escape a fond farewell.

So, while the line-up hardly blew the V Festival out of the water, the atmosphere of The Great Escape was rather lovely and laid-back. It had an old-fashioned feel to it that is sadly lacking with the current crop of corporately branded uber-festivals. Sometimes, all you really need is a field, some likeminded people and for the festival organisers to pay attention to the little things (ping pong tables, beanbags, pretty lighting, free bbq). Now, if they can just encourage just a few more big name foreigners to come along next year, we’ll have a mind-blowingly fun festival to look forward to.

V Festival 2007, Sydney

Does Sydney really need so many festivals? Well, probably not, but with a plethora of international talent on offer at V, punters were happy enough to stump up the cash for yet another day in a field. However, here’s a tip for festival organisers, if you want a reviewer to review the bands you are putting on display, it might be worth making sure they get in on time. I stood in a queue with of host of other Very Important People after the music had started, while stewards tried to organise a wristband to verify that I was over 18. Ironically when the wristbands arrived, my companion, who wasn’t over 18, was happily handed one with no ID check. It’s good to see the system works. Anyway, once through the gates with freedom to responsibly drink alcohol, I took in Sydney’s own Mercy Arms (below), who got proceedings off to a bracing start, with Thom’s vocals soaring over their classically-structured epics, which, as always, were played with honesty and conviction. Judging by this showing, they might just steal your heart this year. Meanwhile, Melbourne’s The Temper Trap embellished their excellent live show by adding a string section which gave nice depth to their fast-paced, invigorating guitar tunes. And yes music fans, that was indeed Bridezilla’s supercool Daisy on violin.While LA’s Softlightes made the most of the beautiful sunshine to woo the crowd with their dreamy, melodic, experimental pop, local kids The Ghosts put in another sterling performance which illustrated exactly why their star continues to ascend at pace. Gabby’s vocal has never sounded so good. This is a band that improves with every performance.

By the time Melbourne’s Muscles had made an energetic surprise appearance, the crowd had noticeably swelled in anticipation of the arrival of Phoenix. “Good evening, my friends,” said frontman Thomas, even though it was only 3.15pm. Still, we happily forgave the much-loved Frenchmen for their slightly incorrect use of English, as they played neat, tight indietronica so charming that the world seemed a much nicer place by the end of their set.
Another French act, Nouvelle Vague, offered some kitsch, instantly disposable bossa nova covers of classic indie songs, including The Buzzcocks’ Ever Fallen In Love?, while elsewhere rock dinosaurs New York Dolls churned their way through an ugly set. Meanwhile, those who sought fun danced along to English quintet New Young Pony Club (above), who had the crowd practically turning cartwheels with their funky favourite, Ice Cream.
“It’s getting a bit chilly in’t it? I hope you’ve brought a cardigan,” said Jarvis Cocker in his familiar northern English drawl. An astonishing 29 years after he formed Pulp as a geeky teenager, the songwriter brought his legendary dance moves to V just as the sun was setting, and performed a collection of solo material which sounded as fresh and important as ever. Between songs, the bespectacled crooner threw confectionary treats into the crowd and chatted with such humour and affability that one would have been forgiven for thinking each and every audience member was a close friend of his. For many people, including me, Cocker (below) represents pure genius, and why anybody chose to be anywhere other than watching his wondrously beguiling performance is a mystery. Following Cocker’s majestic show, Beck really didn’t live up to expectations. He played his hits, his band members had a dance-off and the ingenious live puppet display was a clever touch, but there seemed to be a piece of the jigsaw missing. Mr Hansen was clearly lacking his usual spark, and was apparently suffering from the remnants of a bout of flu. While an off-colour Beck is still more entertaining than many fully-fit artists, the great man is capable of far, far more spectacular performances than this. After all, when the best thing about your gig is a puppet show, you know you’re not at the top of your game.
With queues for the bars and the toilets stretching as far as the eye could see, people who wanted to either expell or intake liquid were frantically checking their watches, as it was soon to be time for the arrival of two really big-hitters from overseas, who, due to the capriciousness of festival timetables, annoyingly performed pretty-much simultaneously. Purveyors of intelligent synth-pop, Pet Shop Boys (below) played hit after hit to a joyous crowd. Sartorially stunning, and with great visuals and dancers, the English duo can really put on a show. It’s also easy to forget just how many classic tunes they’ve penned, and, as the opening bars of each song rang out, the crowd yelped in utter delight. Amongst others, we were treated to Rent, Suburbia and Always On My Mind. Camper than Christmas and infinitely more fun, Pet Shop Boys’ magnificent performance was unquestionably the most enjoyable of the day. Quite simply, those who missed it, missed out.
People who tore themselves away from the Pet Shop Boys experience to finally see Pixies literally role into town might have initially felt slightly disappointed. Sure, they played absolutely faultlessly, but with a serious lack of interaction with the crowd, one sensed they were simply going through the motions. However, all it took was to hear one of their seminal songs to remember just why they are so well-loved. After all, how can anyone stand in the middle of a field with thousands of likeminded fellows singing the “oooh” parts to Where Is My Mind? and not have the best time ever?

After hollering along with abandon to Gigantic, Sydney waved farewell to the American legends, probably for good, and a jubilant crowd shuffled home in the knowledge that they’d just been entertained by one of the most influential bands of all time. So memorable was the overall experience that it no longer seemed to matter whether Pixies had come here to fulfil their desire to play to Australian audiences or merely to milk the cash cow dry.

So, does the city really need another festival? Well, any event that has the clout to offer such an impressive line-up is surely a welcome addition. More of the same next year please.

Review by Rob Townsend