Audio Journal : 11/09/2010

Going to see Muse was always going to be a rather unusual experience because I'm neither a fan nor terribly well-acquainted with more than one album in their back catalogue. That said, we spent an evening at home watching their Glastonbury performance with barely concealed awe at its sonic precision and theatrical stage spectacle, and found ourselves tracking down the last God-awful seats available for one of two dates at Wembley Stadium.

Since we booked those tickets, my enthusiasm has waned and despite my principal stipulation was that we must make a concerted effort to gen up on their back catalogue, we wound up there only really knowing 2006's Black Holes And Revelations which we bought when it was released; a good album, granted, but one I've only really listened to a few times and which never got added back into my iPod after I lost all my songs.

My interest was piqued, however, when I saw White Rabbits on the line-up. White Rabbits are a band hailing from Brooklyn whose 'Percussion Gun' single from last year featured a dense barrage of burundi drumming and some of the most impassioned vocals I've ever heard. The intensity of their performance was nothing short of thrilling. And the crowd seemed pretty appreciative too – not bad for the first band on the bill.

White Rabbits were followed by The Big Pink, whose first song sounded like the groove from 'Supermassive Black Hole', only like it had got stuck. I'd describe The Big Pink as a potentially interesting Muse-lite electronically-infused doom-prog. The singer looked like Ralph, the teddy-boy rocker from Dear John. There was absolute no justification for the dreary a capella cover version of 'These Arms Of Mine' by Otis Redding, which made you realise what sort of Johnny Borrell-sized ego their singer must have. 'Dominoes' was probably the highlight. 'Ohhhh,' said the woman behind. 'So, that's who they are.'

I can't bring myself to write about Lily Allen, I just can't. I don't have anything bad to say about her, and I also don't think there was anything wrong with her performance (apart from a weird junglist breakdown), but I just don't think she really fit the bill.

As for Muse; well, after watching the Glastonbury footage, they were everything we thought they'd be. The performance was ludicrously, ridiculously and fabulously over the top. During one song they ejaculated streamers over the crowd; they rode out into the crowd on a revolving, ascending stage to perform 'Undisclosed Desires'; during an encore a giant UFO was floated out above the crowd and a Cirque De Soleil-esque acrobat burst from the bottom to perform acrobatics while hanging from the bottom of the spaceship. That sort of thing. You get the picture. Totally Spinal Tap.

Add to the enormous stage set and unabashed pomposity a performance that was delivered with the band's trademarked flawlessness, and I think I began to understand just why Muse are regarded as such a vital stadium act, and also why our side of the stadium seemed to be dominated by hordes of loyal European fans who obviously schlepp around the globe watching them. For three unassuming guys from Devon (Matt Bellamy's silver suit aside), their stage presence and enormous progtastic sound way exceeds their relatively diminutive stature.

Having an appreciation of their wider catalogue would have stopped me feeling like a fraud – I normally hate those people at concerts who only know the hits – but my highlights were probably 'Starlight' and the glam-prog 'Personal Jesus'-meets-'Doctorin' The Tardis' strains of 'Uprising'.

Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 01/02/2010

Go to: My Other Blog :: Documentary Evidence :: twitter.com/mjasmith

I find myself struggling to think what to write about this time around.

I suppose I could write about the new Nitzer Ebb compilation, In Order, which was released a couple of weeks back as an iTunes exclusive. Nitzer Ebb were exponents of a type of music which was often described as 'industrial' but was more accurately described as 'electronic body music'; effectively, it was a very aggressive form of synth pop as espoused by the likes of Front 242, Cubanate and early Die Krupps; Nitzer Ebb, from Chelmsford in Essex, were lumped into the same bracket, though they derived more influence from their more successful Essex brethren, Depeche Mode, whose Alan Wilder produced their seminal 1991 album Ebbhead. They released one more album (Big Hit), before imploding, finally getting back together last year for a tour and a new album, Industrial Complex. In Order was an attempt by their former label (Mute) to compile a huge chunk of their B-sides and remixes into one mammoth 60-track download-only compilation.



Listening to that this week is one of the principal reasons for not knowing what to write. With 60 tracks to digest, it took me pretty much the whole of the week just to get through it. Suffice to say, it's brilliant, but I was a fan already and so was inevitably very biased. I'll spare you a track-by-track account of its highlights, but few tracks have – for me – come close to the incandescent rage of the live version of 'Getting Closer' from the 'Godhead' single.

I could also mention the new single from New York's White Rabbits, 'Percussion Gun'. This is a track that needs to be heard to be believed, and I've attempted to describe why this song and this band are so exciting in my small Documentary Evidence review. Cick here to go there. Once again, it highlights the seemingly infinite number of bands to emerge from the New York / Brooklyn / Jersey area. As someone said, go to Brooklyn Heights and throw a stone in the air, and chances are it'll hit someone in a sleek and essential band from the area.



Both of these things aside, probably the best thing to grace these ears in the last week or so was equally the most unexpected. My friend and colleague Martyn found ourselves in Heidelberg, Germany on a work trip, and decided to head out for dinner in the town. We chanced upon an excellent little traditional pub, wherein, over beers and authentically rustic German fare we enjoyed pianist Rudi's versions of German standards and the odd Broadway show tune to appease we tourists, all delivered with pomp and aplomb at the pub's old upright Joanna. Of course, you had to be there, and the music is almost entirely indivisible from the setting and the experience, but take it from me, it was brilliant. Read more about Roter Ochse here.