Birds of a feather

(Morning Star, Friday 20 October 2006)

LIVE: Guillemots, Mandela Hall, Belfast

KIRSTIE MAY comes across a motley crew of musical misfits who play thoughtful indie ballads about lost summer days.

There's a degree of fabrication to bands like the Guillemots.

Idiosyncratic, eccentric, begging to be adored - if any of these characteristics in a band leave you cold, Guillemots may not strike the right chord at first listen.

Are they trying so hard that they're strangling their own natural impulses?

Riding out the suspicion of pretension is worth it, though, because, after the initial discomfort, it is going to get so good.

Let's start at the beginning. Fyfe Dangerfield formed Guillemots in 2004. Hailing from Birmingham, he collected an unusual international elite of musical brains and they have been untouchable ever since.

There's an effort to be individual in their make-up that can be vexing and the concept of the four piece, who cite birdsong as one of their main influences, have had the music meeja foaming at the mouth since before their Through the Window Pane album went on the Mercury Music Prize shortlist earlier this year. But don't let that put you off.

Live, Guillemots are a daunting prospect to say the least. There's a broad social spectrum represented in the assembled crowd, from shouty lager types to thoughtful beards, as well as the obligatory loved-up couples with their claims staked on the quiet, thoughtful ballads.

From the second the band hit the stage, it is clear that they are in the most natural of habitats.

Dangerfield writes lyrics of rural paradise which have a place where trees and fields speak of summer days and the endless possibility of space becomes truly apparent, unfettered by buildings and urban grime.

But, failing that, it seems clear that a dingy basement in a students' union will substitute just fine, with the focus firmly on the spectacular showman that Dangerfield is.

There is a well-paced set on show, moving from tiny little quiet songs to big crazy rocking numbers, but never losing the momentum or the crowd.

Most of the tracks come off Through The Window Pane, including the crowd-pleasing Made-Up Lovesong 43 and epic set closer Sao Paulo, replete with Samba-style bin lid thumping.

Dangerfield makes sure of some good banter with the audience, including a request to rent the crowd and take them on tour with him.

Multi-instrumental breaks are a-plenty, where Dangerfield and fellow bandmates Brazilian MC Lord Magrao, Aristazabal Hawkes and Scots tub-thumper Greig Stewart hit various percussive instruments and body parts to form the resultant cacophony.

Canadian-born Aristazabal injects a degree of sexuality into the show which is frankly astonishing, as well as hitting a mean double bass.

Technically almost perfect, Guillemots are plainly a mad muso band, classically trained and invested with the sort of passion which makes timeless must-have albums.

By turns simple and then orchestral, they are at their best when invested with a wall of sound which boosts the whole live experience.

Coming across as a bunch of kooks and misfits, Guillemots are birds of a feather flocking together - and what could be more natural than that?

Success beckons

(Morning Star, Friday 13 October 2006)

INTERVIEW: Driving by Night

KIRSTIE MAY talks to pop hopefuls Driving by Night as they look forward to one of Britain's hottest talent showcases.

PRIOR TO hitting this month's In The City seminar, Belfast's Driving by Night are quietly confident of their success, as are those who've swooned over their melancholy pop.

In the world of pop, it has to be said that there's a recipe for success - and Northern Ireland's Driving by Night have it.

Abiding by all the tried and tested trademarks of rock, from charismatic frontman to soulful tunes, soaring melodies to insightful lyrics, the band are a poorly kept secret at best in their native land and even that looks set to change within the next month.

Driving By Night found their feet two years ago in Belfast when the afore-mentioned charismatic frontman Neal Hughes met bandmates Jason McCord (guitar/piano), Dave Gordon (guitar), Dave Newell (bass/piano) and Terry Lavery (drums).

Neal explains, "We used to be in an old band called Tyler and split up. Then we got bored with normality and started playing music again.

We were writing more and more songs and we started thinking about maybe gigging these songs."

From a somewhat inadvertent launchpad, Neal and co have since gone from strength to strength, landing a recording deal with BMG music and they are now lined up to appear at In The City, one of Britain's hottest showcases for unsigned acts.

They have played countless gigs across the six counties, including supporting Keane and The Thrills, and are currently squeezing in some last-minute warm-up gigs before heading off at to In The City. This is a festival known for being a hotbed for the A&R scramble, with every record company in the land sending talent scouts on the sniff for the next big thing.

So, are the guys ready for the big time? There's anticipation, certainly.

"We all do have day jobs, but I think we're itching to get rid of those day jobs," Neal admits. "We have had some interest across the water and there are people coming to see us at In The City," he adds, hopefully.

Depending on the outcome of In The City, there's a plan for a nationwide British tour and then, who knows?

When it comes to their own musical influences, Driving by Night tick all the best indie pop boxes - a little Radiohead, a little Echo and the Bunnymen, well, a lot of Echo and the Bunnymen, actually.

Neal remembers: "I was in my brother's car one day and he was playing The Cutter and I realised then that there was a similarity there."

Listen to Fears of Men and it's an easy spot for any Echo fan.

Still, the band members each bring a little something to the mix and what comes out is a real treat for lovers of well-crafted songs, nothing more.

"We're songwriters, so we write songs," Neal is keen to emphasise.

"Our style is buried in song. We have our own sound now, and it's strong."

He describes their sound as being "melancholic, strong melodies, tuneful, really standard strong indie pop songs. I think our songs are anthemic."

Playing heartfelt anthems of love and loss for the heartbroken, Driving by Night are mere steps away from the adulation that they deserve.

• Driving by Night's single Fears of Men is out now. Find out more on www.drivingbynight.com

Disco drama with the feel of 1976

(Morning Star, Friday 06 October 2006)

ALBUM: Scissor Sisters - Ta-Dah
(Polydor)

EXPLODING onto the scene in a cloud of glitter and, um, nipples, it's hard to believe that the Scissor Sisters haven't been with us for the last 30 years.

After all, their disco drama is pure Donna Summer and the outfits have their roots firmly in 1976.

But there is more to these flash, brash New Yorkers than harking back to the glory days of disco.

Their Elton John-style ballads and good-time pop songs seem to have captured the imagination of the music-buying public and, possibly most importantly, they have straddled the twin worlds of dinner party and clubbing music, which is to their credit.

As a result, like something that stepped out of Priscilla Queen of the Desert into the real world, the impossibly camp Ta-Dah kicks off with the - somewhat overplayed - "comeback" single I Don't Feel Like Dancing.

In itself, releasing a song that contains the line "I don't feel like dancing when the old Joanna plays" and, furthermore, having the kids kick up their heels in rhythm is a feat indeed.

Elsewhere, in Land of a Thousand Words, the spirit of the '70s is alive and kicking, all soulful piano and winsome lyrics.

Paul McCartney is an astonishing drum-driven freakout with a funk edge and Transistor is a drawn-out jam in the style of a Greek chorus, all vocal overlays and sonic effects.

Melding nauseating cheesy disco with boozy country swagger, music hall-style knees-ups with some occasional rock-outs, the Scissor Sisters are as much a musical surprise as any you'll hear all year.

Sass and spice

(Morning Star, Friday 06 October 2006)

LIVE: The Pipettes, Spring & Airbrake, Belfast

KIRSTIE MAY experiences The Pipettes and discovers a girl band all set to redress pop's historical imbalance.

A TRIO of angel-voiced singers dressed in identically patterned outfits takes to the stage.

Despite their diminutive size, they belt out top pop hits and whip the attendant crowd into a frenzy.

Ladies and gents, meet The Pipettes - Gwenno, RiotBecki and Rosie.

The idea of harmonising girl groups may have gone out with the ark, after all, we've had Joplin rocking out, and choking on her own puke, PJ Harvey giving it the raw sex appeal and Lily Allen whacking anyone who doesn't move fast enough.

But there's been a gap all along. Since the days of the Ronettes, the Velvettes and the Shirelles, the spirit of togetherness that a girl group offers, and the unmistakable popness of it all has been lost.

But the Pipettes have decided to redress the pop history imbalance - and how.

Support tonight is a terrifying experience, coming as it does from one of the Pip's actual band, a curious fellow named Monster Bobby.

There's little of the monster about him, but certainly a rumbling horror in his drum machine, which seems to be reacting violently against poor Bobby and all that he's trying to do.

But from the second the band burst onstage, all monstrous thoughts are dispelled. The girls, complete with matching dance moves, romp through the best of the album, from the tremendous Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me and One Night Stand, through new track Baby Don't Leave Me. With genuine banter from a thoroughly nice band, the Spring and Airbrake seems to shed its dour grime and explode in a bright pop light, all polka dots and flowers.

The assembled crowd react very strongly to the antics onstage, cheering and chatting with cheeky Gwenno and sweet Becki.

When new single Judy comes on, there's a general squeal of delight and the faithful mouth along to every word of a song which has long since been a Radio 2 favourite.

The best thing about The Pipettes is their ability to take the spirit of Spector and add their own sprinkle of sass and spice. There's rarely a lyric on show which doesn't demand a smile, from Judy's "I never said anything to her face, cuz my friends thought she'd kick my arse all over the place" to the closer, and total highlight, I Love a Boy in Uniform. "I Love a Boy in Uniform (school uniform)."

The Pipettes' deceptive innocence covers up the fact that they can be a bit dirty, but, when it sounds this good, even your dad would agree that they've taken the spirit of something fabulous and infused it with a new life.

Top hit Pull Shapes gets the best dance moves of the night, but there's never been a pertinent observation than the lyrics of their very own theme tune, We Are The Pipettes. "We are the Pipettes/And we've got no regrets/If you haven't noticed yet/We're the prettiest girls you've ever met." Too true.

Not part of music royalty

(Morning Star, Friday 06 October 2006)

ALBUM: Fergie - The Dutchess
(Polydor)

ONE can only imagine that former Black Eyed Peas songstress Fergie has endeavoured to infuse a little class into her get-up, punning her album title on the given name of a lady of state.

How handy, then, that the only actual duchess with anywhere near this much filth emanating from her is also Fergie's namesake, mother to Princess Eugenie and the other one.

You may think that we're lucky that we don't have to listen to Duchess of York rap in a sickening fashion about toe-sucking or any of the myriad scandals she has involved herself in, but you'd be wrong.

There's not really much anyone could say to recommend this album. Like the BEP, Fergie takes "sampling" and turns it into "ripping off" at various stages.

Her little-girl-lost sluttiness is the epitome of clubland horror, so it's guaranteed to fill dance floors, but there's nothing more unsettling than hearing her take off Pink in Big Girls Don't Cry, hard house in Get Your Hands Up and, bizarrely, Limp Bizkit in Wake Up, all without a flinch.

Fergie's a chameleon of sorts, but it's no recommendation and she certainly ain't no duchess.