Citizen Arcane. Live Review of Classic Arcane Roots show at The Garage

Arcane Roots ****1/2*
Empress ***1/2**

The Garage, Highbury and Islington, Thursday 10th April 2014

Once upon a time a podgy man walked into a tiny mysterious dark and smelly room above a dirty tavern full of bearded trolls drinking intoxicating tinctures and drafts. 

The podgy man had gone to the tiny mysterious dark and smelly room above the dirty tavern to witness performances by several groups of miscreants and outsiders. Among them, a trio of ne’erdowells, one sporting a strong and almost magical beard.

They made noise. Intoxicating noise. Original noise. Fascinating and wonderful noise. There weren’t many other human folk in the tiny mysterious dark and smelly room above the tavern but those who were fortunate enough to be there smiled. Nodded. Indeed, many of their number headbanged. Oh there was mirth, love and joy.

After spending the next few years relentlessly following the shadowy trio in and out of mysterious dark and smelly rooms of many shapes and sizes, open smelly fields, magnificent smelly tents and even quiant, smelly farms in far away kingdoms, the podgy man had grown to love the trio of ne’erdowells.

A few harvests later, the podgy man finds himself in a massive mysterious dark and smelly room full to the brim with bearded, tattooed men, exotic women and digital marketing Hipsters from Spitalfields. Despite the digital marketing Hipsters from Spitalfields, the podgy man is happy. Very happy. In fact, the podgy man has a small tear or two in his podgy eyes as he considers the journey that the trio of ne’erdowells have made. 

Arcane Roots are only  bloody headlining at The Garage. 

Sadly, the podgy bloke was too busy getting podgier on meat products and intoxicating tinctures and drafts to get to the massive mysterious dark and smelly room in time for Boy Jumps Ship, but with fresh podge juice in hand, does manage to position himself in the middle of the massive mysterious dark and smelly room in time for Empress.

Empress ***1/2**
Mysterious, dark, sludgy, monstrous and intoxicating riff potions, gases and grenades infused with essence of prog, Intronaut-like intricacy and Mastodonesque magic spill and spit forth from the stage. And the bearded hordes seem to readily fall under it’s heady influence. Eyes shut, heads bobbing, devilish symbols raised. 

There is a joyous anachronistic tinge too this heady rite. The ghosts of 70s power pre-grunge prog are invoked, you can almost smell patchouli oil and Moroccan Black. But far from being a backward looking homage to desert boot staring and velvet loons, there’s a relevance and modernity to Empress’s booming, meandering, riff-heavy work that underpins all the sludge and mist with edge.

The only slight criticism is that many of the tunes appear to be constructed around similar keys and meters so you get the feeling you’re caught in the middle of a wandering 4 and a half hour song or, perish the thought, a concept portmanteau piece. Whatever, this podgy man, fortified with podge potion finds it all splendidly intoxicating.

Arcane Roots ****1/2*
It really does bring a lump to the podgy old throat to see one of London’s most venerable and important venues sold out and filled to it’s bursting teats for Surrey’s fab three. 

And as the drone that traditionally kicks off all recent Arcane Roots shows booms out over the gawping, expectant beards and weirds, the excitement reaches incendiary levels.

Then the intrepid trio burst on to the stage and let loose all hell. Well, the brilliant and stadium-friendly, soon to be released single Over And Over at least. A bold and clever move but one that pays off immediately. Despite the song only having been available to the great unwashed for less than 24 hours (thanks to the good people at Q magazine), the sing backs are incredible. 

Even though this is certainly no teeny audience and appears to be made up of predominantly slightly older and wiser musos, heads, industry types and more discerning cognoscente, the lyrics seemed to have been learnt in lightning time and delivered back with the fervour normally reserved for You Me At Six and the like. Spellbinding.

However, before I get too carried away, it is noticeable that the sound in the massive mysterious dark and smelly room is far from perfect at the beginning of tonight’s proceedings (would have been one of the most definite and clearest of 5 star reviews otherwise). 

For a band that pride themselves on producing such hi-fi sophistication, either the venue, the sound man, the front of house rig or a combination of the three have let them down. Which is unforgivable. If the bloke twiddling the knobs really is bouncing off the limiter as he seems to be protesting, then he really should adjust accordingly. 

OK, Empress had a much bigger backline, but their sound was clearer, louder and more defined. If the FOH is not up to the job, then sound blokey is somewhat forgiven, but Andrew Groves’ brilliant guitar playing and soaring vocals deserve to be heard.

Anyway, slight moans and whinges aside,the jubilant crowd don’t seem to be affected at all by any apparent sonic shortcomings and the amazing set continues apace. Cruising through a delicious collection of massive tunes culled from 2013’s phenomenal Blood & Chemistry album mixed in with sizzling blasts from Left Fire era including the coruscating Million Dollar Que$tion, Long And Low seamlessly segueing into the full blooded full version of Habibty, the trade mark house bringer down, You Are and even a stunning unknown song. New one? Cover? Who knows, as the normally garrulous Mr Groves hardly utters a peep between songs tonight - maybe he’s as overawed as most of us in the the massive mysterious dark and smelly room are.

To be fair to the man in the booth, the sound does appear to get better (could be the intoxicating brews and drafts though - weed bombs? Really? Three quid. Whatever the hell they are) and the crowd, while getting hotter and hotter and more and more animated are voraciously sucking up every atom. A couple of tecchy issues aside, the band have never played a better set and (despite the mildly sub optimal initial sound) tonight’s amazing performance truly plonks themselves at the very top of the British Rock tree.

They really are now getting some serious momentum and building up a broader and wider fan base of converted acolytes. It feels like their time. Their sound is wonderfully stadium friendly without pomposity, indulgence or needless woo oos and vacuous radio friendly smarm. It is seriously sophisticated and dazzling music, flawlessly played but never sterile or studio dot-for-dot perfect. There's real soul. Fantastic chemistry between the three of them, stunning musicianship and a genuine air of impending superstardom. The Zeppelin of the next generation? Why the hell not. 

Resolve brings the main set to a fevered end with it’s intestine-wrenching riff and the wonderful sing along to You Keep Me Here sends the throng out onto the streets of the ancient kingdom of Norf London feeling dazed, sated and safe in the knowledge that the shadowy trio led by its magical strong bearded angelic-voiced wizard will surely be playing larger and larger mysterious dark and smelly rooms and even huge fuck off smelly stadia in the very near future. Where we’ll all live happily ever after. 

Yeah verily.

Dry Roots. Dry The River and Arcane Roots live review

Dry The River *1/2****

Arcane Roots ****1/2*

O2 Academy Shepherds Bush

 1^st November 2012

Bizarre one this. The screwball pairing of two hugely disparate bands. Both undeniably at the top, or at least well on the way to the top, of their respective games. One blitzkrieg, fireball busting with energy, vigour, thrust, polythrythms, riff bombs, complexity, nuance, vitality and originality. And the other a kind of crusty new country orchestra.

Arcane Roots ****1/2*

A half decent crowd had gathered by the time Arcane Roots took to the stage in what must be one of their biggest shows to date in terms of hall size at least. And they looked so at home it can only be a matter of time before they are regularly owning spaces this size and beyond.

However, once primed, the banging opening number leaves most of the crowd looking a tad bewildered. The jumpers, beards, sandals, sensible outdoor wear and hurredly hidden accountant’s garbed commune didn’t really know what to make of Mssrs Groves, Burton and Atkins. There were no mandolins, pianos, softly whispered, whistful prairie oratorios. Oh no. Just a fully erect, brutal, vein-bulging priapic throbber here; with the sole intent to violate.

The PA was, predictably choked back in the traditional pantomime ‘let’s not give the noisy support band too much help’ way and Burton’s atmospheric and supportive vocal screams, drones and harmonies were too high in the mix...

BUT

...it didn’t matter one iota. These boys ooze class. Their stagecraft is as lively, boisterous and energetic as their barrages of riffs, explosions and phenomenal musicianship. We are in the presence of superstars of the future. Doubtlessly.

Groves’s amazing voice cuts wonderfully over the dizzying patchwork of rhythms, beats, classically complex and gloriously complex yet spellbinding concoctions and compositions. There are samples of tasty new tuneage including the massive and brilliant Resolve and the instantly epic and anthemic Hell Or Highwater to accompany the mesmerising platter served from the astonishing debut mini long player ep thing, Left Fire. And, by the sound of it, a shift towards a slightly more melodic and dare I say commercially accessible flavour. Which seems to warm up the amassed MOR congregtion.

If you listen closely, you can hear the syncopated tightening of Dry The River’s collective quaking ringpieces back stage as they ponder, ‘What have we done? How the hell are we going to follow this?”. Well, they start by three or four of their number joining the Roots boys on stage for the always rousing and sublime Long And Low. Which brings the house down. Even the North Face wearing foldy bicycle-owning sensible crowd actually raised eyebrows, voices and spirits by joining in with the addictive refrain.

A stunning performance from a truly original and stunning band. Over to the quakers....

Dry The River *1/2****

I’ll be brief.  Meh.

I’m struggling so hard with this. I’ve banged around the acoustic, folky scene for decades. Fallen asleep in Fairport Convention gigs (without even THC to blame). Been mesmerized by Richard Thomson. Seen John Martyn cast schmoove celestial spells close to 50 times. Sat in fields in Cherry Hinton watching jug bands and be assaulted by more mandolins than at a Lord Of The Rings pageant. What I’m trying to say, is that the whole ‘folky’ melodic, er, ‘nice’ thing is in my blood and happily cohabits in my being alongside rock and roll, jazz, experimental (though there are limits – Holger Czukay, you know who you are!) classical and punky metally noisy stuff.

But I’ve never been so bored in a gig. Never. Ok, Hawkwind at Chelmsford City Hall back in 1981 came close, but tonight Matthew, I’m bored, bored, bored.

Having happily consumed Dry The River’s solid if not dazzling album Shallow Bed, I was expecting some sort of alchemic pep-up for their live renditions. But it’s more painful than even Steely Dan live. What the assembled jumpers are treated to is a dot-for-dot, note perfect anodyne and sterile run through of the recorded work. Yes there’s obviously the odd diversion, including a brave ‘un-plugged’ version of Shaker Hymns, but overall, it lacks any oomph. A just of flaccid 40% lazy lob. No use to anyone but looks better than when at rest or coming out of a chilly shower.

They are a kind of boiled down prissy UK version of Arcade Fire with grains of the (inevitable comparison alert) ditty meisters Mumford and Sons thrown in for pastoral prog contemporaneity and hipster relevance. They are clearly wonderful, passionate musicians and Pete Liddle’s almost whispy alto is at times undeniably beautiful. But I really don’t get it.

The gathered faithful full house do though. With almost a religious fervour. At times, it’s like being at Greenbelt Festival or a Cliff Richard spectacular. Lots of Go Tell It On The Mountain happy clappy whoopy hollery love.

Not for me though. Sadly. Bored.

The amazing This Town Needs Guns next.

More tunes soon. Bwoooar. 

Express Roots – Arcane Roots Live at The Barfly

Arcane Roots*****

22*****

Trails***1/2**

The Barfly Camden 17^th November 2011

So, an early start at my favourite venue and the atmosphere was already building (as was the crowd) for the impressive Surrey scene boys Trails.

Trails ***1/2**

They’re a groaning dim sum trolley full of differing flavours and vibes. Ranging from full-bodied spicy rwaaar moments to lighter, but always tasty poppy hooks sprinkled with astringent arpeggios and wholesome thumping bass. And I tucked in greedily.

I’d never seen them live before, but  they were really on it tonight and the already packed house seemed to agree. Not totally original and there were moments of generic scene rock out of the recipe book of Deaf Havana, Francesqa and early YM@6, but they certainly served up high quality tunes and a thoroughly energetic and tight performance. I’ll definitely and happily dig in again next time the trolley comes around. Yum.

22*****

Beyond catergorisation, Norway’s electromathpopprognewrtomantic darlings 22 were next up. Starting with a tecchy and frazzled duel between bass and guitar, 2 UV face painted dervishes whirled onto the tiny stage and gave the assembled throng an almighty polyrhythmic kick in the cock. Then a similarly UV facepainted albino high-camp monk complete with cowl wandered out of the stygian gloom to front up proceedings.

The crowd seemed largely bewildered but hypnotically acceptant. There was a fair smattering of Norwegian fan boys hurling themselves about in frenzied delirium; but the rest were left nodding, stroking their hipster statement beards and generally lapping up this weirdest of intoxicating luminous cocktails.

22...Jazz Monk

The set was fast and furious overlaid with euro poppy gymnastics. For sure there were heavy moments and the musicianship throughout was as tight as a nun’s lady bits, but until the last number Plastik, it failed to totally and consistently hit the spot.

Arcane Roots’ frontman Andrew Groves joined the by now melty UV face painted Scando ghouls for Plastik and it was by far the best and most stirring number of the set. Don’t get me wrong, they were original, bewildering and, at times mesmerizing and generally bloody great, but if they could match the intensity of Plastik throughout, they’d be on another level.

Arcane Roots*****

I remember the first time I heard Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. It was undeniably brilliant. Moving. Emotional. But it had a simmering dark side. Almost a malevolent shadow.  And I fell in love with it. Its nuance. Its ability to captivate. Its originality. And its middle finger in the air to the status quo and  to the tried and tested. Well, without being too wanky, I get the same feeling when I am privileged enough to be in the presence of Kingston’s brilliant Arcane Roots.

I’m running out of superlatives to describe this jaw-dropping trio and have given up trying to sound clever by cross-referencing influences, sonic signifiers and reference points. Suffice to say they are right at the front, and I mean right at the front of the burgeoning and exciting UK rock scene. So far at the front that they are at least 92 league places ahead of even the best of the others.

From the first melodic and trancy noodlings of their opening number (the first of three dazzling new tunes on show tonight which’ll hopefully appear on the new album that they’re recording next month), they ooze class, control and genuine star quality. The new tune segues neatly into the always stunning In This Town of Such Weather (from their recent tour de force, Left Fire); the place melts down. The assembled industry types, musos and hipsters are forced to discard any hint of insouciance or contrived coolness and dissolve, morphing into baying acolytes joyfully singing along like the front row of a One Direction show.

Andrew Groves exudes a charisma and a trail of stars seems to follow him around the stage like a meteor tail. But it’s not all about this ball of fiery energy, This is truly a joint effort. Adam Burton and Daryl Atkins provide one of the tightest and most explosive rhythm sections on the planet while adding multi-layered spellbinding vocal textures, growls, counterpoint and an almost orchestral support.

We are truly in the presence of greatness. The whole set is delivered with micro-surgeon’s precision, skillfully eviscerating the love-struck crowd while joyously and mercilessly caressing them at the same time without vulgarly or cheaply groping or lunging for the soft and squishy bits.

Rouen, as always is a beautiful, haunting and beguiling highlight, but the best is kept for the end. A true classic set closer. Tonight with added Norwegians. In neckties. Long and Low first pummels the spleens out of the sweaty throng then transforms onto a beautiful, haunting and plaintive refrain leaving a sated and seduced crowd humming and wailing their way through their own versions long after the stage has been emptied of our fabulous threesome and attendant Norwegians.

A truly unforgettable evening in the company of Britain’s very, very best. Can’t wait for the new album.

Every Time I Die, Spycatcher et al next.


In the meantime, here's a wonderful live session thingy that Arcane Roots did recently. Astonishing.

More tunes soon, Bwoooar!

Arcane Roots - You Are Live Session from Deethree on Vimeo.