A beginner’s guide to...Chillwave

If there weren’t enough music genres flying around already, then here’s another to add to the exhaustive list – Chillwave. So what is it? Chillwave claims to encompass a sound of the 80s, a genre that’s heavily synth-laden and otherworldly with a nostalgic quality. The term ‘Chillwave’ was first used by Carles, a radio host on Sirius XMU and creator of Hipster Runoff; the blog that featured the term in July 2009, when referring  to a cluster of bands with a similar sound such as Neon Indian, Washed Out, Memory Tapes and Small Black. Although it has been dubbed as an LA sound, it’s not particular to one area, unlike some music scenes that originate from the same place. Chillwave seems to be seeping into other genres too from the unlikeliest of combinations; the most prominent being Chillwave imbued R and B. There have been a torrent of acts dubbed as Chillwave and judging by the band names of them it seems extremely fitting.

Quintessential tracks from the pioneers of Chillwave:

• Neon Indian – Polish Girl
• Toro Y Moi –  Talamak
• Gold Panda – You
• Washed Out – Feel It All Around
• Young Empires – The Earth Plates Are Shifting

It wasn’t long before Chillwave washed up on the shores of the UK. But what acts do we have to offer?

1.         Bear Driver

A quintet hailing from London have enjoyed spots on the BBC Introducing stage at Reading and Leeds, played at SXSW in early 2011 and have most recently gained airplay on BBC6. The London natives produce swirling, blissful songs. Their latest single ‘Never Never’ flows with nostalgia with its hazy vocals and fuzzy guitars - beautiful. Their yet to be titled debut album was recorded in an old swimming pool in East London in just 3 days and is set for release in Spring 2012. Visit Bear Driver’s Facebook page and Bandcamp for a free download of ‘Never Never.’

Must hear: Never Never
www.facebook.com/beardriver

             www.beardriver.bandcamp.com

2.         Tropics

Tropics gained recognition in August 2011 through the New Band of the Day feature on The Guardian website. Largely led by synths with subtle, softly spoken, dreamy vocals laced underneath, it’s certainly the most mellow of the bunch, sounding completely fresh and radiant.  Chris Ward, the 22 year old and face behind Tropics has been likened to Caribou, an act notorious with his interpretation of psychadelia. Tropics album Palodia Flare is available now and a new EP is currently in production.

Must hear - Give It Up

www.facebook.com/tropicsband

www.soundcloud.com/tropics

3.         Stay+

Formerly known as Christian AIDS, Stay +, the Mancunian duo have infiltrated Chillwave into their own mish mash of house, disco and rave music. Penning tracks about love, depression and human nature, the band have a significantly brooding, ominous sound.  There’s still an air of mystery around Stay +  as there’s little known about its members as they don’t feature in their own videos and the band images are montages of blurred pictures instead of the band themselves. According to Drowned In Sound, Stay + were one of the first Chillwave acts in Britain.

Must hear: Scum

‘Fuck Christian AIDS’ was released on 02/01/12

www.staystaystay.bandcamp.com

Published in the March 2012 issue of the Huddersfield Student.

The Brits 2012

So it’s that time of year again where we can all get excited because The Brits are back. Or maybe not. What is it about the supposed ‘prestigious’ ceremony that is just that little bit infuriating?

Not only is it completely predictable but it ignores many musical genres, focusing on mainly pop or urban acts and as long as they continue to give awards out to Justin Beiber or JLS, then it will always lack credibility and relevance. The Brits claims to honour the year’s biggest and best stars. Yes, they are right about the biggest, but the best? I’m guessing no one has actually bothered to listen to The Vaccines then. The nominees have populated the airwaves of Radio 1 for the past 12 months and it’s only the Critics Choice award that seems to offer some unknown talent; but not really. Emeli Sande has nabbed the prize for the 2012 ceremony, yet she’s had a number 1 through her collaboration with Professor Green on ‘Read all about it’ and achieved a solo hit with ‘Heaven’ earlier in the year.

We already know another guaranteed winner; Blur for outstanding contribution (Yes, they were one of the innovators of the Britpop movement but blah blah blah). How have Led Zeppelin or The Smiths never won this accolade before but Oasis and Robbie Williams have? So critics - please, please, please make this happen at some point in the near future before we all lose faith completely. Also, there’s bound to be a winner who went to the Brit school as there always is. So Jessie J and Adele will have to battle it out here then. Thankfully, they’ve got rid of the current students who used to annoyingly perch themselves in front of the stage and grin, oh so irritatingly.

On the whole, the nominations make me sigh with their predictability. Of course they couldn’t leave Ed Sheeran or Adele out or even One Direction (ok, they probably could of). Arctic Monkeys, Elbow and Kasabian are nominated for best British group yet again, because clearly there aren’t any other bands in the UK. No, none.

The Brit Award statuette has been revamped yet again, this time designed by Sir Peter Blake who created the artwork for the Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band LP. The new figure looks as if it was involved in a cataclysmic scuffle with a tube of Aquafresh toothpaste – and lost. Take note Brit award winners, the best thing to do with it, is to channel your inner Liam Gallagher and thrust it into the crowd because it won’t be a pretty site on your mantelpiece or your Bathroom.

But, admittedly, the Brits aren’t all that bad. They gave us that cracking Dizzee Rascal and Florence Welch duet back in 2010. However, the same can’t be said for Paloma and Cee Lo Green last year, oh dear. This year, performances come from Coldplay, Ed Sheeran, Adele and Rihanna. I suppose RiRi can perfect her miming this time round. Practise makes perfect and all. Those that perform on the night tend to nab one so by the looks of it I’d say the likelihood of those belting their hits out and then accepting their own statuette is high. Besides, there would be an outcry if Adele didn’t win one. 2011 saw some unexpected but undoubtedly worthy winners in Laura Marling and Arcade Fire. So not all hope is lost, at least.

Not only do we have to suffer ITV1 being hijacked for a few hours, but ITV2 too. I really couldn’t care less which black dress Adele is sporting this year or which band member  is too trolleyed to construct a complete sentence. On the plus side it’s only once a year, but then again, so is the Queen’s Christmas message.

James Corden returns for presenting duties for the third time round, I just wish he’d bound on stage as the boisterous Smithy and liven the whole affair up. We can at least dream.

Published in the March 2012 issue of the Huddersfield Student.

Do Lyrics matter?

Lyrics are the main component to a song. But when I first listen to a track, the lyrics aren’t what grab my attention. I focus on the thumping of the drums, the jangly guitars and how it sounds as a whole. But what is it about lyrics that are so beguiling?

The beauty of lyrics is that anyone can interpret them how they want to and make them personal to themselves. A good lyric has got to provoke a reaction. Whether it makes you happy, angry or sad; it must make you feel something.

“What am I running from? Oh what am I running from? / It cuddles the creeping chaos coming/ I see it more clearly than ever before.”

Ether song a track by Turin Brakes is like delving in to the pages of a diary. You hear the desperation and hopelessness in his voice and even though you don’t know what “it” is, you have a feeling of empathy towards him. It’s personal and that’s why it stands out; making it that bit more authentic.

Do we really need to understand the lyrics? If we go by the annoyingly catchy ‘Mmmbop’ by Hanson, then that would be a definite no.

“Mmmbop, ba dupa dop ba do bop.”

This is one song that doesn’t make any pragmatic sense, whatsoever, and as I’m aware their only hit. I’m possibly the worst person for knowing a band’s lyrics. I’ll be that one idiot shouting the wrong words at a gig, most of the time. In that sense I don’t think lyrics matter, as I tend to convince myself that they’re something that they aren’t anyway.

“Un peu, d’air sur la terre / d’air sur la / d’air sur la / d’air sur la terre.”

With the help of some GCSE French, for the past 3 years I have been adamant that ‘The French Open’ by Foals goes something along the lines of ‘En peu est ou la terre?’ Having a very basic grasp of the language of love, I assumed that it was asking where something was. I was wrong. Even though I don’t understand the entirety of the song, it doesn’t stop me from enjoying it. Similarly, German band, Beat!BeatBeat! and Mancunians Wu Lyf’s lyrics are almost impossible to decipher; Wu Lyf even more so than the former. But again this doesn’t detract from the fact that they produce great indie anthems. Even if the lyrics are a tiny bit lost in translation.

When you start to take notice of lyrics, you realise how tedious and inadequate a lot of songs are.

“wasted and wanting/more than we’ve the power to achieve/ hopeless and haunted/ by a thousand ghosts of opportunity.”

Chapel Club produce inspirational lyrics and literary devices to great success. The alliteration is particularly effective and relatable; we all feel as if we can strive for more, to become better; as if there are opportunities out there, we just need to take them.  

“The pines hung like reconsidered suicides from the red palms of mountainsides – preserved, as Orion was preserved in stars – this was a long time ago. The echoes return slow– it doesn’t matter. The lake shook its silver and was still again, and the clouds surged and swooped and swam – like swans, or brutal Zeus who once, disguised, fooled leda with feathers of snow.”

To compare these to Kate Nash’s lyrics you do wonder how bands like Chapel Club don’t gain more acclaim.

“I use Mouthwash sometimes I floss, I’ve got a family and I drink cups of tea.” 

Just one excellent example of Nash’s streaks of literary genius. Note to Kate, must try harder. Chapel Club’s songs are sophisticated, flow cohesively, and scream intelligence. Their songs could quite easily be read separately as a story due to their poetic nature.

A cluster of music in the Top 40 is repetitive drivel. ‘We found love in a hopeless place’; Rihanna’s latest chart topper mentions the eponymous phrase sixteen times. Lyrically, it’s simple, monosyllabic, it’s nothing revolutionary and that goes for a lot of singles that make it to the higher ends of the charts. Rihanna could be singing ‘We found love in a soap less place’ and that wouldn’t have prevented it from reaching the top spot. I predict that her songwriter won’t be winning any Ivor Novello’s any time soon.

Lyrics are important but isn’t what makes the song. The music is equally as important. ‘To build a home’ by A Cinematic Orchestra is one of the most hauntingly beautiful songs in existence. The driving force behind the track is the piano quickening in pace then crashing to a halt, whilst the vocalist’s voice is steeped with emotion, projecting something quite saddening but it’s the sound of the emotion in his voice combined with the piano that creates a reaction, not the words.

For me, lyrics don’t need to be profound but they can’t be too simple either; a hybrid between words that can take you on a journey, make you forgot about the world for 4 minutes and rouse an emotion are what I admire.

Top 10 Albums

“Who the fuck is Arcade Fire?” The question that’s emblazoned over their merchandise, that was uttered by disgruntled viewers of the Brits when they scooped 2 awards and the question that left my mouth when I first heard their name.

But now, Arcade Fire are a band that have cemented their place in my CD collection. I didn’t give them a chance at first because I thought they were a bit strange. The third offering by the Canadian septet, The Suburbs, confirms how wrong I was. The organised chaos punctuated by a myriad of instruments, dominant jangly guitars and with all their idiosyncrasies ceasing to fade away they’ve undoubtedly produced their best album to date.

Similarly, I wasn’t Florence and the Machine’s biggest fan at first either. I recall a surge in profile songs on MySpace switching to Kiss with a Fist. It’s unlike the rest of the songs on the album and I’m not sure whether the attempt at unleashing her inner rock chick paid off. But the rest of the LP stands high above this first single. The dark and sadistic imagery flowing through the album on tracks like Girl With One Eye; “I took a knife and cut out her eye/ I took it home and watched it wither and die.”  (I won’t be getting on the wrong side of Florence) accompanied by the glimmering harp and strings that intertwine beautifully with her ethereal voice; most resonant on Rabbit Heart, rack up a stunning assortment of songs.

There are some albums that deserve to be ranked highly based on its nostalgic value. This is where Spice Girls, Madonna and You Me At Six fit in.  As girl power swept the nation; I too was sucked in to Spice World. With my Spice Girls video proudly held in one hand, CD in the next and donning my Sunshine yellow dress with the Spice logo plastered at the top; I always did look the part. Spice Up Your Life and Wannabee are the best pop tracks to screech along to when getting ready for a night out. I think my 6 year old self would be proud and in case you were wondering Sporty Spice was my favourite. They’re one of the only bands me and my friends come to a consensus about. Not only were they great in the Nineties but they still sound brilliant in the Noughties. Spice transcends decades and will remain timeless. As they once said - Viva Forever! 

 As we’re on the subject of friends; or past friends as you could say. You Me At Six were the support act for the first gig I went to 5 years ago. I had a different circle of friends and we discovered the band together. Take Off Your Colours isn’t an amazing album, although, at the time I thought it was; blinded by the fan girl in me. It’s the memories attached to it that makes it significant. We may not be friends anymore but that Album not only created a buzz around a band but built a friendship. It’s bursting with anthemic choruses and I can’t help but have a fondness for not just the Album but the band too.

Madonna. I don’t even like her. In fact, I despise her. So does my Mum and my Sister. I’ve heard Confessions of a Dance Floor more times than Louis Walsh reassures the Irish contestants on The X Factor that they’re going to be stars. I haven’t got any stories about all the classic albums that my parents introduced me to and I’m quite glad really, or I could have been writing about UB40 or the Bay City Rollers instead - thank God. Madonna is a slight improvement, I suppose. I do blame my Dad for this though. She’s always been the source of many a dispute in my household, whilst my Mum throws obscenities at the TV, my Dad says he loves Madonna even more to aggravate her. Every time I’d get a lift to school, her LP would be on repeat so it has grown on me. It’s packed full of dance floor fillers, but it’s Madonna. I don’t want to like it but I admit that I do; although I won’t tell my Mum that.

Every once in a while you’ll hear a sound that you’ve never quite heard before. Foals are what I consider to be one of the greatest bands of the past 5 years and I don’t mind the NME hype that surrounded them, because for once NME, you got it bob on. Antidotes is an instant mood lifter, it’s upbeat, energetic and infectiously catchy. The angular riffs and the vocals marry to make a futuristic sound. Not that of robots and electronics but revolutionary in the sense that this is what the future of guitar music is, not The Vaccines or Viva Brother.

Whilst some albums have a special significance; some are loved because they are just simply amazing. Lower Than Atlantis stuck it out from their hardcore beginnings to make an accomplished rock record. Fenech Soler provided an explosive album of glittering, electro tinged pop and Two Door Cinema Club have become an indie guitar sensation making waves with a feel good debut.

Meet Me Halfway, At Least perfectly encapsulates what I think a great album should be. It’s got its melodic hooks and heavy riffs and the racing tempo is brought back down with the slower tracks. Lyrically it’s very strong but whilst it’s completely personal it’s entirely relatable and where the roaring screams are in ratio to the sung vocals are completely faultless. It’s an album that takes you through the motions. Whether you’re angry, sad or bursting with happiness there’s a song to fit whatever mood. Favourites include Another Day In This House and In Desperate Need Of Adventure projecting a tinge of teen angst that I’m sure we can all share. It’s a work of beauty with rock stamped all over it and that makes Deaf Havana’s debut album my favourite of all time.

You Me At Six, 12th October 2011, Leeds 02 Academy

Going to a gig in Leeds without being struck by the roaring echoes of “Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” is like having a traditional Sunday roast without the Yorkshire pudding. It just doesn’t happen.

“At one of our first gigs in Leeds at the Cockpit we didn’t know about the Yorkshire thing; we just thought they were saying you’re shit.” recalls Josh Franceschi, front man of You Me At Six.

But from the Cockpit to the 02 academy it appears that they’re bewildered as to how they can sell out venues of this magnitude. They’ve clearly become more confident as a band. Franceschi more forthright. “Don’t call my mates. I’ll knock you out; you prick.” retorts Franceschi as the mention of Oli Sykes provokes a booming boo.

 After securing Lower Than Atlantis and Deaf Havana as supports; it would have been an understatement to say that I was excited. With the uncommonly early start of 6.00pm, Lower Than Atlantis were already on stage thundering through a set bursting with tracks from their latest album,  World Record,  ahead of a still lengthy queue outside. Although they didn’t rouse the greatest of reactions, their Foo Fighters medley did drum up a speck of movement.

Deaf Havana were unexpectedly disappointing. Lead singer James Veck-Gilodi’s voice is what I consider to be flawless but by omitting lyrics by over oohing and ahhing, the songs were barely recognisable and at times hardly audible. They did redeem themselves with ‘Friends like these’ and ‘Nicotine and Alcohol’ but collectively they sounded sparse and discordant. I’ve saw them before and have gone as far as to say that they are one of the best live bands, but their support slot was shambolic and tenuous in places. Maybe they were having a bad day; or at least I hope so.

Whenever a band releases a new album they have a tendency to force feed you new songs incessantly without giving you time to digest it all. You Me At Six didn’t do this. Kicking in with ‘The Consequence’, the perfect opener with its opening siren signal encouraged an outburst of movement from the crowd. Likewise, by revisiting old favourites ‘Save It for the bedroom’ and ‘Trophy Eyes’ a furore of enthusiasm amongst the crowd saw them singing along to every word. Undoubtedly, they excel in their faster paced songs that are accompanied by swirling circle pits but don’t quite pull off the slower tracks, regardless everyone else seemed to enjoy it. With Franceschi’s 2 middle fingers punctuating the air during the explosive ‘Bite My Tongue’; it was as if his gesture was directed to any who said that rock music was dead.

Returning for the encore they bounded into latest single ‘Loverboy’ unleashing Chris Miller and his guitar off in to a spiralling riff that left me as lightheaded as when the screaming banshees behind me insisted on screeching whenever Josh Franceschi opened his mouth.

There was a sense that they were trying to escape the Pop Punk image that has so clearly defined them with a set consisting largely of their more mature, rock fuelled songs rather than tracks off their first album – Take off Your Colours.

So that’s a sell out tour and a top 3 album with Sinners Never Sleep  to add to their repertoire; who was it that said rock music was dead again?

Most Overrated Album

What did you expect from The Vaccines? Probably not an amalgam of mediocre lyrics, irritatingly jangly guitar riffs and a front man who has as much personality as a comatose patient.

What Did You Expect From The Vaccines?

After gracing the covers of The Fly and NME they were regarded as the saviours of rock and roll; the band that would kick start a new era. Before they even had chance to release a single they were splashed over NME. Funnily enough their label boss is the husband of Krissi Murison, editor of NME (surprise, surprise). So it is who you know that gets you far; friends in high places and all.

As well as  securing support slots with Arcade Fire and Arctic Monkeys to acquiring a nomination as Best New Act at this year’s Q awards; there is no end to the abundance of hype that was headed and still is heading their way. I heard their name and saw their faces more times than Stephen Fry tweets. But even the album name indicates a poor effort as if it justifies how standard and tenuous it is. Likened to The Strokes “Is this It”; that’s exactly what you find yourself asking about The Vaccines.

Opener “Wreckin’ bar” at just one minute and twenty eight seconds long appears to be thrown in as a joke. The repetition of “ra ra ra” makes me want to amputate my ears whilst ramming my skull against cobbled stones. It’s not all that horrific though. I do occasionally find myself humming along to “If You Wanna” and “Norgaard” but that just infuriates me and everyone in a close proximity to me. You wait endlessly for an explosion or a crash of drums; anything to waken it up. Even though there are upbeat tracks, they are still fairly drony and monotonous with one song blending in to the next. “A lack of understanding” does surpass the other tracks purely because it has an injection of Morrissey styled lyrics. Whereas Wolfpack sounds like a rip off of Generator by The Holloways but brooding rather than chirpy.  It’s certainly nothing new or exciting just a mish mash of their cited influences predominantly the Jesus and Mary Chain, however, it’s not a terrible album; it’s just not great.

Like the insipid Mumford and Sons before them, The Vaccines are too privately educated. Providing the question; are they just too posh? A pretty silly question really but there is a particular appeal of a band rising from their dead end towns with their repetitive jobs to superstar status.  But back to the music and let’s not get bogged down with the tedious issues of social class.

Undeniably they can pack out a festival tent incessantly with indie boys sporting their Bob Dylan-esque barnets, drainpipe jeans and floral shirts that wouldn’t look out of place on Noel Edmonds. They can also undoubtedly pull out festival anthems that anyone can drunkenly slur along to but there’s nothing revolutionary here. I find it difficult to believe that this is the future of guitar music. This blasé comment coming from NME is like Bruce Forsyth going through a whole episode of Strictly Come Dancing without a meagre attempt at receiving a few, and I mean a few laughs.  Change the record Bruce; sorry I mean NME.

Tarik’s HMV review states “This album is undeniably one the best debut albums since Arctic Monkeys released their debut 5 years earlier.” Ok Tarik, you’re clearly an devoted fan and  that’s a fairly colossal statement but we’ll just have to agree to disagree. The fans and the critics just can’t seem to get enough of them but on a final note; I must say The Vaccines - it’s not me it’s you. 

Fenech Soler, 5th October 2011, Leeds Uni Stylus

After cancelling a myriad of festival appearances and rescheduling their UK tour due to front man Ben Duffy undergoing chemotherapy for Testicular cancer;  Fenech-Soler arrived back in Leeds on a bitterly cold evening following this tumultuous year.

The crowd or lack of scattered about the room was surprising as the date was sold out. With the majority of dwindling spectators stood in a row with their backs pressed against the walls, you’d have thought that they were watching Dancing on Ice in the heart of the room rather than a band.

The first mediocre support band’s songs blurred into one another and they  successfully crucified Seal’s ‘A kiss from a rose’ with their synth laden interpretation.  You couldn’t knock their enthusiasm but with a mix of weak vocals and a tough crowd; it was evident through gleaming smiles that they were counting down the songs, as were the audience until they could exit the stage.

Second support Paper Crows offered a refreshing set. The front woman who was caked in heavily laden eyeliner and resplendent in a black and white furry cardigan, prompted the expectation to hear her tear off into a mash of heavily screeched vocals. Surprisingly, the fusion of Kate Bush-esque vocals emblazoned with dub step undertones and her intense gazes provided a rousing performance.

Amidst a plethora of expectation as the crowd swelled and perspired; Fenech-Soler launched onto the stage executing an explosive set. Crowd favourites included the upbeat ‘Lies’ with its extremely catchy chorus that had everyone chanting along and ‘Golden Sun’ with its pulsating bass line. An accompanying yellow glow bathed the band and like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis; the crowd switched from a lifeless bunch to a bouncing sea of flailing arms and bodies. The venue became increasingly reminiscent of a bomb shelter with its curved ceiling adding an intimate feel to an already small, cramped room.

The instrumental beauty of ‘Stone Bridge’ and likewise with ‘Stop and Stare’ saw Duffy play the keyboard forming stripped back and tame moments in comparison to the mostly energetic set. Fenech- Soler with their direct, no nonsense electro pop and blend of faultless vocals are one band worth seeing before their foreseeable meteoric rise. It comes as no great surprise that they’ve secured a supporting slot alongside Example on his forthcoming tour. This may just be the platform to catapult them in to greater acclaim.


*This is online at Leeds Music Scene as well *
http://www.leedsmusicscene.net/article/15787/

You Me At Six - Sinners Never Sleep

“I’m married to the music / for better or for worse” sings You Me At Six’s Josh Franceschi on Bite My Tongue. Well, it all so nearly ended in divorce as they candidly reveal in the trailer for their eponymous documentary. “Sinners Never Sleep” sees the band venture into slightly unfamiliar ground with their fusion of heavier material with slower, more heartfelt songs.  Produced by the Garth Richardson who has previously worked with Biffy Clyro and Rage Against The Machine it has the calibre to be their best material to date.

Departing from the pop punk label which was harder to shake off than a leech; this album is bursting with stadium rock riffs and on first listen is instantly catchy. Opening with Loverboy, the first single to be released off the album is a storm of crashing drums and stomping guitars with the fade in gang vocals setting you up for a treat.

Bite My Tongue showcases Franceschi’s harsher sounding vocals whilst guest vocals from Oli Sykes, of Bring Me The Horizon provides hardcore screams. Likewise, Time Is Money with a contribution from Parkway Drive’s Winston McCall offers just about bearable roaring screeches, but does however inject brutality to the track.

The music switches between the upbeat to the slowed down. Closing track When We Were Younger stands out against the heavier tracks with its emotionally charged soft vocal melodies. Slow burners Little Bit Of Truth and Crash, which erupts into a hearty chorus, also stand up against the torrent of riotous songs.

However, what this album doesn’t ignore is quintessentially what You Me At Six excel at, mustering songs packed with anthemic choruses, explosive riffs, infectious beats and honest lyrics. Kerrang! crowned them Best British Band of 2011, Sinners Never Sleep just proves why.

Published in the October 2011 issue of the Huddersfield Student.

Marsden Jazz Festival, 7th October 2011

Jazz artists from the traditional to the contemporary invaded the picturesque village of Marsden for the 20^th year this weekend. Like Camden Crawl but with the scenic Pennines its backdrop.

Tucked away in working men’s clubs and pubs were thriving pockets of music. Terry Brunt’s Dead Good Boys and The Tame Valley Stompers played to a bursting Marsden Liberal Club with every seat occupied by aging jazz buffs. Although hailed as festival favourites whether people were there to witness the spectacle or to escape the bitterly cold wind that gushed through the village is debateable.  

Resplendent in identical silver waistcoats, the sexagenarian sextet stormed through an energetic, lively set. Performing traditional jazz like at a wartime dance; I expected a comrade to waltz past with his sweetheart. Clearly pleasing the ladies with “If I had my way dear”; it was their rapport with the audience that made them enthralling to watch. As the idiosyncratic Terry Brunt referred to the trombonist as a “creep” and the bassist claimed that his name as the Cheshire Thrush “sounds like something you’d catch” ripples of laughter surged through the audience.

The Ken Marley Trio attracted a younger audience. The condensation trickling down the windows and the mass of bobbing blonde curls in sync with the experimental jazzy tones of the three piece proved to be the most vivacious performance of the evening. The festival not only attracts the predicted jazzy type but evidently caters to a younger audience. 

The assault of jazz on Marsden was most prevalent when the Jazz Preservation Society occupied The Railway Inn. Another packed out venue but this time it was a clash of the Titans. The JPS with applauding supporters in one corner with the huge TV screen projecting the England game to the ardent football fans in the other. Whilst keeping their sound strictly traditional and pure the atmosphere and interaction with the audience wasn’t that vibrant. Noteably, one cheery chap; a cross between Inspector Morse and an ageing Will from The Inbetweeners fidgeted outside the venue whilst engrossed in a chat about the resistance stealing Nazi artwork with his gang of jazz connoisseurs was  more engaging than  JPS’s set.

Marsden exudes the image of being an idyllic village. A flowing stream running through the centre that was adorned by a commerative “20^th” amongst a myriad of octave and quaver musical notes illuminated the trickle of water in the moonlight. Quintessentially, the festival brings a hubbub of excitement for 3 days in October. Not only is it one of the UK’s longest established Jazz festivals but emerged victorious from the Jazz Yorkshire awards winning Jazz Festival of the year 2010. A colossal achievement for an event run entirely by volunteers. But does traditional Jazz really appeal to a younger audience? “Parent in-laws suck” chirped the 20 something year old as he disposed of his cigarette butt before being dragged to watch Terry Brunt.

Arcade Fire, 31st August 2011, MEN Arena

Amongst the sea of receding hairlines, it’s easy to note that it’s not just the hipsters that worship Montreal natives, Arcade Fire.  From pre pubescent teens to golden oldies, they’re all here tonight, apparently. There was most definitely an 80 year old lady in the crowd, all this acknowledged by the screen popping out of the rafters, that charges a rip off rate for the possibility of your message being shown. But, I guess 50p+ isn’t too bad for 2 marriage proposals throughout the night.

Noah and The Whale hurtled through their support slot. In dapper suits and slicked back barnets, they look quintessentially English. To start, only a few solitary flailing arms were thrust into the air, however, old favourite “5 years time” with its playful lyrics created raucous cheers. It was their set closer that gained most interest. “L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N” which was championed by Radio 1 and played continuously, saw many scream the incredible yet annoyingly catchy chorus.

With military precision, an army of people scatter on stage to assemble the myriad of instruments that are so synonymous with Arcade Fire. Launching the music spectacle is “Ready to start”, a popular opener, with its chiming guitar tones and crashing drums. “It’s easier to clap when you’re standing up.” Win Butler, the idiosyncratic front man shouts ebulliently. By demand thousands rise to their feet.

Zealous renditions of “Rebellion”, “No Cars Go” and “Wake Up” prove to be instant crowd pleasers. The former with “ooooo” echoing around the stadium to a blacked out stage, creating quite a poignant moment, the latter being the eruption of “whoa oh” in perfect sync to a shifting sea of bodies leading into a euphoric high. Whilst Regine Chassagne, Butler’s wife and band mate, pirouetted and swirled around the stage in a dream like haze.

 “Month of May” injected some much needed fast paced rock, where both band and crowd letting loose ramping up the intensity of the night. The closing track “The Suburbs” was sublime in every way from its lavishly orchestrated sections to its slowed down pace, showing clusters of unity throughout a bursting stadium.

There’s something so seemingly beautiful and commendable about seeing Arcade Fire perform - their ability to unite a crowd. You only have to look at the groups of men and boys bouncing around in a hugging embrace to see.

With 8 members on stage it runs the possibility of falling into a shambles. Although, it’s this organised chaos, with members weaving their way through the obstacle of instruments that works so well.

It’s plain to see why they’ve racked up award after award and landed festival headline spots. Frankly, they sound just as beguiling and ethereal live, if not more than they do on record. So, who the f**k are arcade fire? The question so often uttered. Well, just about the greatest band on earth, obviously.