Blank Canvas
There’s nothing better than the immediacy of chest-vibrating tom drum beats. Add a beefy bass line and jaggy guitar and you’ve got a potent combination. On top of this, the singer urgently bellows. It all sounds a bit like Interpol, but you know, good. ‘Deadlock’ is a potential anthem. “We lost our heads,” he sings. You could imagine a crowd singing it back. A solitary floor tom whacked by various members of the group adds impact.
The guitar is forever inventive, coming out with anything but orthodox noises. In another context it would be self-indulgent and distracting, but the arrangements are such that it meshes and complements each song perfectly.
Stripy T-shirts and a cardigan point towards this being an art school band. And indeed they are, but in no way is this a bad thing. It lends a suitable hip air to proceedings. If anything, they could do with a bit more swagger. They’re all far too nice. More arrogance, please, boys.
White Heath
If Blank Canvas used a solitary bass drum for emphasis, White Heath use only this and do away with drum kit entirely. It’s a bold move, but one which clearly pays off. The lone drum and a piano occupy centre-stage. From this, the six-strong band form a unified line across the stage. It’s a very effective presentation. No instrument is given preference, you just absorb all sounds in equal measure. And that’s important when you have this many instruments – trombone, ukelele, guitar, bass, piano, synth, violin, djembe, shaker, and bass drum. No wonder they don’t need a drum kit.
When your sound comprises of all these, it would very quickly dissolve into soup were it not for the sheer musicianship of the players, and the quality of the songs. Despite all these elements flying around, it never sounds gimmicky. The songs are entertaining, and that’s it.
They kick off with a tune in lilting 6/8 time. Trill piano meshes with unison bass and guitar. It sounds at once like a terrifying wind-up toy and a ship sinking. An epic folk tale. Think the Decemberists, but menacing and wearing suits.
It’s all very self assured. For one intro, the bass player recites us some German. Even the band can’t stifle a giggle, and it shows a confidence and un-pretentiousness in their material that’s extremely warming.
Genres are picked up, played with, and squidged together like Playdo. At one point we hear what in normal circumstances would be a ballad, but here shrugs off any saccharine or dullness.
This band will be very big, very quickly. Good.
Snide Rhythms
We finish tonight with some heavy punk slam poetry. Motorhead vs Gil Scott Heron, with a good dollop of Fall-style arrogance, nonchalance and menace. As the bass and drums hammer out tight funky riffs, our singer scowls his way through post-modern and at times downright obscure lyrics: “You start juggling fractions; stop the warring factions…”; “…the vampire walk of shame…”; “All the heroes are fat and bald.” It is esoteric and mesmeric.
For one song, a synth punches grotesque sine waves into the brain. Everything from R2D2 yelps to brown noise is slammed skullwards without respite. Over that, the foppish Jarvis Cocker-esque figure delivers tirades.
It’s music to loose your marbles to. Please make it stop, mummy.
Unique.
(Words by Rob Sproul-Cran)
