The Brownies + Alvarez Kings + Joy Formidable + Elliott Morris |
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Indiependance @ The Cell, Lincoln
20 February 2008
Photos & Review by Pete
Joy Formidable, a three piece from North Wales (re-located to London) were up next. Noirishly named Ritzy, bleached blond vox/lead guitarist Kalashnikov girl who with her barked vocals and lashing guitar moves took total ownership of not just the tiny stage at The Cell but much of Northern Europe and that was just after two clips of ammo. She’d make a great dictator as seen with the ear-bashing served up on bass player Rhydian when his lead failed, interrupting the set. But now I know how Eva Braun must have felt. Justin on drums kept his head down. How do they stand working with her? I think I know. She’s unique, an immense motivational force up front, and at full pelt the band is raw and dirty. At times the dirty felt more like filthy and I think I wanna go shower again. But that visceral viciousness on a tiny stage, working up a sweat along with the crowd that was something fuckin’ fantastic.
Alvarez Kings. Plenty of attitude here, too. For a while I thought the balance though was too much in
Headliners and Norfolk’s finest, The Brownies had been stood right up front all evening showing their support for the other acts. So, it had been a hell of a long wait for them and they finally fired up around eleven thirty, looking a bit tired but well up for giving it a blast. They’d impressed me to bits when they played at The Mezz about a year ago which was most definitely one of my fave performances of last year. I’d come eager to see where they’d taken their exciting tumbling pop sound and yeah it had changed, for sure! The impression they give now is that someone young and kinda pretty (but not beautiful) has died and is being dragged through these songs. Maybe this was always going on? It’s more
More pics at www.shine.clara.co.uk/gigs webspace.
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Elliott Morris is a young guy of 17 with an acoustic guitar upon which he conjures up minor sound miracles. He plays it both as a stringed instrument but also percussively, extending its range to that of a 68 piece symphonic orchestra -ish. It’s fast, controlled playing and full of feeling with some really decent vocals on top - including the occasional shouty-out bit. (A good kind of shouty not the bad sort.) Playing single handed off the frets could sound like a step too far towards showy-offyness but nah, it’s just vibrant. There’s a few people around the country with a similar approach at the mo but Elliott has plenty of boyish panache to mark him out. So that was worth three quid on its own then. 
Think, too The Manics, back when they were balaclava’d, decked in khaki, somehow that’s been condensed in a vivid staring doll femme. Let’s be clear, it’s her band in the only way that counts but they are a great outfit. Post-performance I was acutely aware I maybe won’t easily get to see them play live again and that made my stomach turn over. I joined the queue after to shamelessly cadge a badge and was hoping to buy their CD too - but turns out they let you download everything off their Myspace. (Go listen but Joy Formidable live is the deal if you ever get the chance.) Oh and her guitar. The most tenth-hand battered, gaffered, found-in-a-skip unloved instrument ever. Want one. 
favour of the pointy shoes and swerved hair. The obligitory assault of guitar noise sounded less compelling than other Yorkshire bands like White Light Parade and Vinyl Collide who’ve make the trip down here. But no arguing with the plenty of fans who knew all the words and were punching the air. Halfway through their set I sort of got hooked on those meaty guitar hooks and had to admit they are the authentic white boy indie article and it’s not a we’re in a band ego thing, they really mean it. Simon Thompson fronts them well with a big, blunt authority, only perturbed by the stage-side mirrored walls, telling us he was seeing ‘ a sweaty bastard in the mirror’ that was himself. lol. A determinedly hard working band that have a lot to offer. 
obviously darker, more brutal, veering towards something fatal even. This band have the vision and self belief that makes them special, no argument. As long as they hold together they are worth following. It ain’t easy though. Vocal ranting from unblinking Sophie Little, bemusedly sweet in sailor’s hat, repels as well as intrigues.The vacant look of self-harming detachment in her face is subtly alarming as too lyrics becoming a scramble of meaning. It is a beautiful face. The pop shimmers have burned out and been replaced by something more abrasive and pummelling. Over and over fragments of fatalistic energy emerge, throat grabbing, reviving, only to repeatedly melt back into harshness and a sense of frustration. Maybe it’s meant to be like this? It’s certainly ambivalent, both accessible and compelling. There is so much here to respect and dissect, but I was wondering if there is too much pressure brought to bear on themselves, maybe they’ve simply worn themselves out, carrying expectations, plugging away for that elusive break that offers all the answers. The fun has gone, replaced with a drive for something else to fill a void. Stevie, Maxie, Mike and Nathan absolutely gave it everything - but maybe sometimes that’s too much. As Maxie Gedge said about the electric shocks her mouth was receiving from her mic - ‘I don’t mind really, as long as it doesn’t kill me.’ This page was last updated Monday, 11 January 2010
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