It’s telling that, on their 2014 debut LP, Ballad of the Ice, Dori Sadovnik and Niv Arzi covered Bauhaus’ epic proto-gothic ode “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”. The 1979 single, with its incessant shuffle, dubbed-out tape delay and post-punk guitars, straddled the worlds of rock and dance with perfect balance and fine judgment.
Dylan aficionados will get the cover art reference immediately: one of Elliott Landy’s celebrated Woodstock photos, taken in 1968.
Mogwai’s ability to create both frighteningly intense and gorgeously understated compositions has led to them being one of post-rock’s most celebrated and accessible bands. In recent years, they’ve increasingly become known for their unnerving and ingenious soundtracks (most recently Atomic, which underscored Mark Cousins' documentary Atomic: Living in Dread and Promise).
The Duke Spirit’s newest album, Sky Is Mine, comes quickly on the heels of 2016’s well-received Kin LP and Serenade EP. Produced by the band themselves, and featuring vocal contributions from the likes of Josh T. Pearson and Duke Garwood, it shows a softer and more contemplative side of The Duke Spirit. Frontwoman Liela Moss goes so far as to claim that “sonically, Sky is Mine is the most tender record [The Duke Spirit] have made”, and she’s not wrong.
Ironically then, the first thing that hits you about album opener “Magenta” is the dirty and propulsive bass of Toby Butler, yet this sets the template for the rest of Sky Is Mine, which juxtaposes grit and beauty with mostly enthralling results. On “Bones of Truth”, soft strings ensconce the slow waltz rhythm in warmth and fragility, while the magic of “See Power” lies in the little discordances that pepper the song, giving it a biting edge underneath the deceptively pretty vocals and structure.
“YoYo” merges the avant-pop of Jesca Hoop with the exotic sway of Blur’s Think Tank, in what ends up being the most insistent and engaging listen of the album. It teeters on mania before plunging into the icy “The Contaminant”, a song with a vulnerability reminiscent of Daughter. Vocally, Moss describes the album as a “snapshot of a palpitating heart that values above all things, life”; while a grand claim, her crystalline vocals are never cold – on the contrary, the (perhaps underused) Duke Garwood on album closer “Broken Dream” lends Moss’s repeated “waiting, waiting, show me / fading, peaceful, show me” a vague sense of hope and expectation.
A beguiling listen, Sky Is Mine showcases this indie/goth band staying on top of their game.
Overleaf: Watch the video for "Magenta" by The Duke Spirit
Representing the best of the current psych revival’s many faces, the scuzziness of The Moonlandingz and overwhelming groove of Goat all seem initially out of place amongst the mock-Greek décor of the O2 Academy Brixton. With an audience that doesn’t stop bopping through both the bands and stellar DJ sets in between, however, the night feels far more transcendental than awkward.
There is a third act on the bill that also deserves mention. The futuristic pop of British alt-folk perennial Jane Weaver is nothing short of immense. The unearthly soundscapes of her most recent album, Modern Kosmology, are replaced by a more driving, insistent sound live, and never is this more evident than on the single “Slow Motion”, which is arresting in its snaking synths and steady drums. “The Architect” is another musical thunderstorm, with Weaver balanced on top of the locked-in, grooving rhythm section perfectly. Reminiscent of the poppier sides of the hauntological Ghost Box Records catalogue, her formidable vocals hang between siren and banshee throughout the set, and are particularly melancholic on “I Wish”. Weaver saves what may be her least tumultuous song, “I Need a Connection”, until last. It blossoms slowly but, eventually, the whole audience stands enthralled by her emotionally charged crying out of the title phrase.
It's loud, it's infectious, it's everything Goat do best
The Moonlandingz are like a pair of festival wellies – filthy, battered and given to trampling all in their wake. They’re instantly enjoyable; teetering between rockabilly, synth-pop and glam rock, they’ve got the stomp of Chumbawumba, the grit of early Pixies, and a charm that is unmistakeably their own. Set opener “Vessels” is a beast of a track, echoing round the room as singer Lias Saoudi writhes across the stage. “Sweet Saturn Mine” is the song equivalent of an earthquake, or possibly a military march played by a circus, while “The Rabies are Back” is almost “Proud-Mary”-ish in its lilting groove, sending the front half of the audience into frenzied flailing. In perhaps the most unexpected and touching moment of their set, “Lufthansa Man” culminates in a synth solo which comes on like Magazine covering the Sherlock theme tune. There’s not a dry armpit in the room by the end of their riotous time on stage.
Up to this point, it’s been a near flawless gig, and Goat don’t break the run in quality. Dipping in and out of funk, ambient, classic rock, and endless strains of global roots influence, their hypnotic set keeps the audience swaying then headbanging, by turn, all night. Songs like the cute, flute-led “Union of Mind and Soul” are endearing in their own plodding, simple way, but their set really takes off with hip-shakers such as “Goatfuzz” and “Gathering of Ancient Tribes”. Above walls of distortion, Djembe drums and sitar-like guitar noodling, the ululating vocalists shine in their shamanic garb, shaking, twisting, shrieking, and leading the audience in crazed chants. The jewel in Goat’s crown is the rollicking “Run to Your Mama”, taken from their acclaimed debut album World Music. It’s loud, it’s infectious, it’s everything Goat do best; and live, it’s impossible not to be caught up in the ecstasy of the band and their fans.
Exhausted but content, there’s no way the audience can leave unhappy.
Overleaf: Watch Goat's brain-frazzling, almost hour-long set live at Glastonbury 2015
In media coverage of Woodstock, Santana always seems to be overshadowed by the oft-mentioned cultural significance of Hendrix’s “Star-Spangled Banner”. However, go check their performances, side by side, for pure visceral thrills, and it’s Santana’s amped Latin explosion that comes up trumps. If he hadn’t spent the better part of the Seventies and Eighties turning out tedious jazz-fusion (as Hendrix might well have done, had he lived), Santana would be on many more 21st century posters and T-shirts.
1999’s collaborative Supernatural album famously rehabilitated him as a commercial entity and last year’s Santana IV, his fieriest effort in aeons, showed there’s still petrol in the tank. However, Power of Peace sounds like it was more fun to make than it is to listen to. Carlos Santana and his percussive powerhouse of a wife, Cindy Blackman, join Ronnie and Ernie Isley and their spouses, Kandy and Tracey (who sing backing vocals) for a church-scented family jam. They cover a range of classic soul, the predominant style an uninspired, often insipid wander in the footsteps of Marvin Gaye’s early Seventies output (“Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)” is even covered).
The Isley Brothers are themselves no slouches in the guitar department, and even once had a young Hendrix in their band, but things seldom catch alight, despite much fret-wrangling. The opening tracks get things off to a decent start. A version of “Are You Ready”, originally by psychedelic Sixties soul dudes The Chambers’ Brothers, bodes well, working up a groove, even if a rap section for Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” doesn’t bear close inspection (“Crossing the River Jordan/Like spending time with Michael Jordan”). Unfortunately, after the passable opening trio, things slump into a bland string of slowies, including the only original song, “I Remember”.
There are other passable moments, such as a feisty take on Muddy Waters’ “I Just Want to Make Love to You”, and an impeccable pure jazz version of Leon Thomas’s “Let the Rain Fall on Me” – the album’s best number – but Power of Peace is certainly not going to end up among the essential back catalogue of any of those involved.
Overleaf: listen to The Isley Brothers & Santana "Are You Ready"
The cover of Alice Cooper’s first album in six years shows the erstwhile Vincent Furnier with two heads. This, one assumes, is supposed to provide a neat little illustration of Paranormal’s musical content which is spread over two discs.
Boris are a trio of Japanese noise rockers who are masters of all things heavy, and Dear, a double album of superior quality, marks the band’s 25th anniversary as a going concern. Covering a range of bases from doomy slabs of heavy noise to riff-tastic stoner rock, distortion-soaked dream pop and beyond, there is nothing jaded about Dear, and nor is there anything clunky about the band’s subtle genre-skipping. In fact, this album exudes a vitality that many bands which have been around for half as long as this mighty leviathan frequently have difficulty mustering.
“DOWN - Domination of Waiting” kicks things off with a host of monolithic detonations that sound like the whole of Black Sabbath’s career concentrated into a few seconds and then repeated on a loop. Very slowly indeed. “Biotope” is more reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine, with its melody buried beneath a solid wall of distorted guitar sounds, while “Absolutego” betrays a certain swagger in its lively groove and a screaming solo from lead guitarist Wata. There can be no accusations that Boris have happened upon a certain sound and then spent their time tinkering with it slightly. Dear is the work of a group of experimentalists with all their faculties on full power and yet with the self-awareness not to drift into over-indulgent wibble.
Apparently, Dear was originally conceived as a farewell to fans after a long and illustrious career in the musical outlands. However, it is to be hoped that there’s now a substantial rethink at Boris HQ because this album is a sonic masterpiece that suggests the band are nowhere near a spent force. The fact that it marks Boris’ 25th anniversary is all the more remarkable.
Overleaf: watch the “Absolutego” video
Tough security checks mean I make it to British Summer Time’s main stage just moments before the opening chords of the early evening set from The Lumineers.