Camden Crawl - London NW1 - 19+20/4/07
1/5
By: Thomas Hannan
Before we all get eager about The Great Escape in Brighton let's take a few seconds to remember what The Camden Crawl, the pre-Escape escape if you will, had us all singing (or screaming) along to a few weekends ago...
The Thursday afternoon was mainly spent drinking by the grill-side on one of the hottest days of the year but as night descended the rock n roll began to flow as smoothly as the Red Stripe we Rockfeedbackers now admit to drinking too much of. Jack Penate's jerky and directionally potent stance made an emergence at the Electric Ballroom and while the weirdly big crowd curved to the understated Shakin' Stevens-like indie songsmith we stood trying to figure out if his majestic and sweetly catchy delivery could compensate for a not so motivating body of songs. His performing style is beyond the preconceptions of what everybody else around is doing and he's an incredibly entertaining guy to watch, but behind all the smoke and mirrors there's little to really grasp those bits of your gut that lust for innovation.
Calvin Harris and The Whip drove some dance beats into our slowly sobering bodies and if there are any two acts that can offer two wholly different views of the same genre; it's these guys. On one hand, the Scottish collective circling the junk-pop dance devotee known as Calvin Harris roared some post-kitsch happy hardcore-esque slapping tunes our way thrusting a lively dance sound that's fast becoming known on the web as really quite good... a feeling shared by their menacing and enthused crowd that lovingly, albeit proverbially, threw shapes like mad old hatters. Elsewhere, The Whip pummelled a stunned audience into submission with a far dirtier take on the retro-80s vine that almost every electro band has been swinging from since Franz Ferdinand opened the floodgates. Their trashy and intimidating control blinds onlookers with a dazzlingly dark perspective of a sound that at last brings this overrun genus to its knees as a dynamite set of beats parades the dancehalls of Camden, all hollering alike.
All that said and done, it wasn't really a patch on Foals, a band that's taken the reigns of electric guitars and scraped them to the point of un-recognition, barely stopping for breath as their booming vocals and elastic-fast guitars collide on stage. A stage that quickly became infested by a crowd who just couldn't contain themselves any longer and insisted on invading to fill the sweat-dripping venue with a steadfast body of swarming enthusiasts. Foals music was tight, direct and undoubtedly memorable and though you worried it would raise your standards eternally, tossing aside Klaxons records like worn plasters, there was nothing to hold you back from concerning yourself in one of the greatest, and legendary, performances of the festivals history.
(To view an exhibition of Foals photographs from their performance at the Underworld the following evening, click HERE, and soon.)
According to Kate Nash, 'Caroline's a Victim', but the only thing that seemed to have been debased on Friday was her usually fantastic song. Nash had a really eye-catching stage dressed in the form of a wicked-cool fluorescent sign, but that was probably the most exciting thing about her gallingly bog standard set that whimpered through some semi-Spektor vocals and pretty ordinary songs which compelled for a few seconds before falling apart at the seems. Her voice is great, we'll give her that, but not as great as it could be, or should be if her records and videos are anything to go by, her usual electro-funk delivery ditched for a sombre and pointless puppet show display of her tracks. It was a shame, but luckily Foals were playing again so we didn't care that much. Not as much of a hullabaloo second time around for Yannis and co. but nonetheless a fantastic evening treat.
Across town Alterkicks showed off their new Killers-ish sound with a spanking new tune called 'Good Luck', a fable that did all Brandon should have done on 'Sam's Town' but for some reason didn't. Their former low-key attitude has been shunned aside for a fantastic bang of noise that plays with your feelings like a small boy, compassionately devoted to your inner child and sparking a sense of glee that's missing from elsewhere in the UK music scene. Alterkicks are certainly ones to watch over the next few months and thanks to an array of fresh tracks will hopefully live up to their potential expectations. Tiny Dancers and Hot Club De Paris took on the 'sound of the moment' and shook it about a bit but despite putting on fairly decent shows didn't leave much of an aftertaste, a feat still held by Foals from the day before... or maybe it was the dodgy fried chicken...?
Friday was bought and owned by a completely different gig to the Thursday, as it was the endless genius of Eamon Hamilton... the bloke from British Sea Power that formed Brakes and imploded our minds last year with 'Beatific Visions'... that owned The Underground and day 2. Arriving a little late and to the tune of 'Porcupine And Pineapple' the amazingly small group gig was nowt short of unforgettable to us straggling rockers. Performing Brakes' songs solo with just an acoustic guitar clutched to his chest, Hamilton's intimate show was attended by an adoring fan base that sang every word of his songs back at him with a real affectionate joy and fell close to almost crying during the haunting 'No Return'. The whole show was spent with members of the public wondering on stage - or perching on the side - and when his performance came to an end, after playing 'Comer, Comer, Full Stop' twice, he graciously invited everybody to join him to gather around and sing along to 'Jackson'... thus sealing this in that mental 'forever moments' vault. So inspirational was it, being practically invited into the living room of a real musical genius, we forgot all about Foals for just a few seconds allowing ourselves to think about setting the world right... a sentiment also felt after Billy Bragg.
Onwards to The Charlatans, a gig that hinged around 'The Only One I Know', and outwards to civilisation... a little battered, a little beaten... but completely shook up by the proposed soundtrack to the next 12 months. The Camden crawl puts forward the artists that are going to shine throughout the coming year and with a list this fantastic, what a year it'll be...
Fending off cruel barbs from various Crawlers and Rockfeedback associates as they wait to see Foals, this writer defiantly strides off to Lock 17 * to bask in the fuzzy warm glow of The Bluetones. Mark Morris' gang of Hounslow charmers really are one of our finest and most underappreciated bands. The statistics can't be argued with: they've scored a number one album and thirteen top 40 hits along the way. No-nonsense tracks from rockier latest LP 'The Bluetones' and touching domestic crisis yarn 'Keep The Home Fires Burning' gets heads nodding, but it's with 'Bluetonic', that elegantly crafted British pop song par excellence that is aired here as a tribute to the last time the 'Tones popped up in a venue such as this, back in their mid 90s heyday, that provides sing-a-long pandemonium which ensures Morris has to appeal for calm. The biggest cheer, however, is reserved for 'If...', and its 'na na na' refrain rings out into the Camden Sky at the close.
It really is re-assuring to have Billy Bragg with us this evening. In a week where the lyrics of 'Help Save the Youth of America' had perhaps never seemed more pertinent, Billy is as passionate, witty and self-effacing a performer as The Crawl's seen all weekend. Taking to the stage armed only with a trusty 6-string and a steaming cup of tea, his performance is a dynamic, diverse joy. Who else could open a set with an interpretation of a British folk song from the 1600's about land rights ('The World Turned Upside Down'), follow it with a track like 'To Have and Have Not', possibly the finest examination of post-senior school frustration ever committed to record, and then have the crowd chuckling with his appraisal of the English performance in the Cricket World Cup by altering the lyrics of 'Greetings to The New Brunette' to 'How can you lie there and think of England/When you don't even know how to bowl a seam?' A cover of Dylan's 'Don't Think Twice It's Alright' (after threatening to play us a Carpenters song), The George Dubya-baiting 'Old Clash Fan Fight Song'- complete with the obligatory anti-BNP rant- and a rambunctious rendition of 'A New England' follow, leaving us smiling into the night - or, as it transpires, failing to get into the Charlatans' show over at Koko.
For those that can't make it down to the Camden Crawl, think a mini Glastonbury over two days with 80+ bands across 15 venues, all within a mile drag either side of Camden Town tube. A veritable indie-fest of upcoming new bands with a smattering of surprise big name draws, this year including the darling of NW1 Amy Winehouse, Travis, Billy Bragg, the Damned and Ash. And there's not a tent or a hippy in sight, just loads of skinny jeans and big hair - and that's just the boys.
Working on the basis that you can't have too much of a good thing and in the misguided belief that I could pace myself, I started my pilgrimage in the early afternoon at the Spread Eagle where ex Food Records supreme Andy Ross was hosting a series of low key acoustic sets. This included the impressive talent of Joe Driscoll, a native New Yorker with a repetitive but thoroughly enjoyable set of whimsical hip-hop and mellow beat box.
Come early evening the real fun starts with Sweden's Shout Out Louds at the Camden Tup. Front-man Adam Olenius bears something of a resemblance to Courtney from the Dandy Warhols - in fact the whole band are quite striking, that is until you get to the drummer who looks like Les from Vic Reeves Big Night Out. Their melodic indie pop has the predominantly Scandinavian punters bouncing off the walls and 'Very Loud' with its 'Train In Vain'-esque refrains and squeeze box solo is a highlight of the set, along with recent single "Please Please Please".
Next it's off to NW1 to see three ex Les Incompetents in Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man. Haircut of the day goes to the drummer sporting a pudding basin worthy of Henry V. Unfortunately, the Hoxton affected posturing on stage does nothing from the music and come the third tuneless number, I'm bailing out to the Enterprise to see Cherry Ghost. Described by the compere as the most hygienic band in rock (!?!), tonight's band is stripped back to a three piece as the stage is so small. But this adds a fantastic new dimension to Simon Aldred's tales of melancholy. An effect-laden guitar shimmers over current single 'Mathematics' and the stunning 'Dead Mans Suit' before a quirky cover of CeCe Peniston's 'Finally' brings things to a close.
Then it's a quick run down Parkway to join the masses attempting to get into the Dublin Castle for Amy Winehouse. Unfortunately, Amy's running late having performed in Bristol earlier in the evening and, as there is more people outside the venue than could ever fit in, we retire to the Electric Ballroom and catch the end of Air Traffic. It's difficult to judge from the few numbers we saw but their piano led indie rock came across like a Feeder-lite. Thankfully, the blandness didn't last too long before Ash made a triumphant return to the London stage. Back to a trio following the departure of Charlotte Hatherley, all your favourites get an airing including "Girl from Mars", "King Fu" and "Burn Baby Burn". New single "You Can't Have it All" is a bit of a shouty affair and there's some serious guitar riffage going down by the end of the night.
Day two gets underway with a rammed performance by the Rumble Strips at the Fall-Out pre-party. Their soulful Dexy's tinged sound is just the tonic to blow away last night's hangover.
Once our eyes have adjusted to the sunshine, we somehow manage to squeeze ourselves into the Black Cap to see Tiny Dancers. And if ever there was a band out of its time, Tiny Dancers are it. Looking like the bastard sons of glam rockers Mud and early '70's Aerosmith, front-man David Kay takes to the stage wearing a purple print poncho and sporting the straightest white blonde hair since Johnny Winter. He proceeds to shower the audience with glitter and balloons as the band strike up the first of a joyous set of southern fried tunes, the highlight of which is forthcoming single "I Will Wait for You".
In an attempt to recover from the exertion of getting down to Tiny Dancers, we make our way to NW1 to see I Was a Cub Scout. However, the venue is so packed that we can't see the stage so we have to make do with just listening to IWACS among the liggers chatting at the back. What I could hear was, to quote Malcolm Laycock "very good, very good indeed", almost emo but with synths.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club round off my crawl in fine style. Thankfully they've left behind the countrified musing of their last album and have returned to the low down and dirty rock 'n' roll that first kicked them into public attention. The new numbers from "Baby 81" sit comfortably alongside the likes of "Rock 'n' Roll (Punk Song)" and "Spread Your Love" and they make a fitting finale to Camden Crawl 2007. Role on 2008.
Some of the best moments of our Crawl this year were had in boozers in the afternoons, waiting for the big boys to start playing their noisy rock, whilst some chancers showcased some acoustic guitar playing and yarn spinning that would become the soundtrack to our chatting. Best of the bunch was a fellow called Liam Gerner, caught in the Spread Eagle pub (not as rude as it sounds - you should see the Black Cap...), who played songs to an enraptured, hushed audience which wouldn't have sounded out of place on 'Greetings From Asbury Park, NJ', given his way with a righteous melody and desire to get across a message with a social conscience. Nice work, boyo.
The Kissaway Trail remind us during their Electric Ballroom appearance that occasionally, five people playing the same note for a long while can sound absolutely fantastic if they're playing it with enough conviction. And conviction is something this band, newly signed to the faultless Bella Union label, have by the bucketload. Looking like a skinhead Roy Orbison fronting a slimmed down Arcade Fire, their tunes are massive, each and every one, but not in an off putting, stadium rock kind of way, more in a manner that affirms things like your belief in the inherent good of the human soul, and a good chord progression over pointless fret w*nking.
A live set by Malcolm Middleton is, granted, far more enjoyable when you know the songs. Not the most charismatic of live performers is he, but certainly one of the most talented and important songwriters currently releasing the fruits of their craft in the UK. What you get during his set in the tiny NW1 Bar is downtrodden sentiment turned in to life affirming melody, and songs from his near perfect 'A Brighter Beat' LP given thoroughly faithful renditions, yet made all the more cutting than they are on record because you're able to look at the pained expression on his face as he personally guides you through the emotions those remarkable tunes are built upon.
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