Free Energy at Windmill Brixton

“They remind me of Hanson!” shouted my friend and if we were just going on the slight frame of the lead singer then she had a point. Musically though Free Energy, who headlined at a hot and sweaty Windmill in Brixton last night, are worlds away from teen bop.

They properly rock, head banging their long hair in unison, tight vests and jeans almost constricting their exuberant jumps and kicks. They certainly live up to their name. I almost yelled “Turn it up to eleven” when they kicked off with their eponymous song, but was so close (about a foot away) they would have heard me.

After watching the excellent support, the Singing Adams (only their second gig but already definitely worth catching – the lead singer is the former frontman of Broken Family Band) in the middle of the crowd, we found ourselves at the front for Free Energy who arrived with white balloons to party.

The Philadelphia five piece, who are signed to DFA records, play catchy pop rock (three guitars=loud) and they really give it their all. I loved watching them play my favourite track Something in Common especially when the lead singer did that thing where he locked eyes and then smiled a really big smile. They were really having fun on stage and it was genuine.

Free Energy are going places. Until the frontman said:

“Big hello to the babes on the back wall....nice, very nice”.

Er, hello? What about the babes up front?

“He must be longsighted,” said my mate. I concurred. How could he have dissed us honeys at the front?

To be fair, the barnet was looking big. Just how big (and frizzy) I didn’t realise until I clocked myself when I got home. But still, there was no need for such a blatant oversight. The rubbish British weather just doesn’t agree with my mop.  And if anything, it looked quite 70s-ish which fits right in with their 70s rocker look and sound. Harrumph.

Still, the lead guitarist is a man of impeccable taste. As well as sporting a long brown mottled feather on his guitar, he was wearing my trainers (martial arts shoes Feiyue, beloved by Shaolin monks).

After an encore and much appreciation from the rammed crowd (“sweet” was the frontman’s catchphrase of the evening) we emerged from the Windmill sweatbox into the drizzly Brixton night.

We were in a party mood and wanted to carry on for a nightcap. But Brixton is as bad as the rest of London when it comes to after-hours drinking during the week. Mango Landin, The Prince, Hive all shut. The White Horse was open but dead so we finally settled on an Amaretto in The Rest is Noise, open but equally dead.

It goes to show that Brixton needs more Free Energy on Monday nights to keep the party spirit alive.

First Aid Kit

Dreamy and beautiful is how I'd describe last night's gig at Union Chapel in Islington, partly because of the venue, a drafty Victorian gothic church, but mostly because of the gifted act, acoustic folk duo First Aid Kit.

When I first heard about these young Swedish sisters a couple of weeks ago, I muttered "First Aid Band? That's an odd name" in a granny fashion and suddenly felt my age.  Like LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy opined so well in Losing My Edge, I was feeling out of touch with new music even though I'm not THAT old (well mid-thirties so old enough).  That's what comes from freelancing at home and not having regular conversations with fellow music lovers. Not to mention severely cutting back on frivolous gig going, in an attempt to save money.

Which is how I found myself enthralled with the intensely beautiful harmonies of Klara and Johanna Söderberg, aged just 16 and 19, from Stockholm. One plays acoustic guitar, the other keyboard. Think melancholy folk and more playful country. They sing and speak with American accents too.

Their cover of Fleet Foxes' Tiger Mountain Peasant Song in which the two perform in the middle of a Scandinavian wood, was a YouTube hit and is how many people discovered them.

Wise lyrics beyond their years in songs such as Tangerine and You're Not Coming Home "He speaks with his eyes closed and even though you're not alone, he's never there to be with you" combined with an ethereal quality to their voices created a mesmerising, sometimes haunting, performance. Their MySpace strapline is "We aim for the hearts, not the charts!". Sweet.

At times the church was so quiet that when they went off-mic for more intimate songs such as Ghost Town and In The Morning, you could hear the slight rustle of their floaty bright blue and orange dresses, such was the love and respect of the crowd. Given their age, I was also really impressed with their chattiness. Not too much, but enough for us to realise that they seem like really nice, likeable girls.

And the venue! It's a crime that I've never been there before. Union Chapel is a working church which turns into a dramatic, magically lit spiritual cavern of music at night.  With the most amazing acoustics ever. Plus sitting in church pews means you're virtually guaranteed a great view of the altar (complete bonus if you're short like me). You can nip out for a drink at the bar too. What a lovely, unforgettable gig.

Right, off to listen to the Tiny, another Swedish group, who were the support last night...

A short history of house...Chicago house

I have friends whose eyes glaze over at the very mention of house music. I know what they're thinking. Thumping banging beats, irritating repetitive synthesized euro vocals or cheesy piano filled tat. Yes house has a lot to answer for these days.

Just last week a mate remarked at a gig that she knew she was old because she couldn't bear to listen to house anymore. So, at the risk of sounding like Carrie Bradshaw, later that night I got to thinking. What is it I used to like about house? Of course I woke up the next morning and, as ever, forgot I'd even asked myself a question.

Until yesterday. I've been contributing to a music book this week so I've been typing away in my boudoir listening to all sorts. And when a classic Chicago house track came up:


-
I took the opportunity to listen to some old songs. Wow. I'd forgotten just how good these early house tracks still are. Marshall Jefferson's "Move Your Body" from 1986 was the first time anyone had played piano on a house track. And it still gets people moving today. Along with Frankie Knuckles, Jefferson is considered " a Godfather of House".

I have to admit I spent most of the mid-90s while at University in a haze of house. Britpop passed me by entirely because I was dancing my tits off at house all-nighters and warehouse parties (proper ones where you had to go to a dark dodgy boozer to find out the secret location). I just love dancing in places where everyone is there for the music. Still do really. Which is why I like festivals now. Except I'm not as young as I used to be, so I usually suffer the next day.

I could waffle on about all the different sub-genres of house but you'd probably start yawning. So I'd just like to introduce you, if you don't know them already, to a few of my favourite Chicago house tracks.

Chicago house is the earliest form of house. It is funky, edgy-disco, gospel-influenced dance music. The term 'house' comes from Chicago where it meant something cool, hip, fresh or bad. Alternatively some say a Chicago club called The Warehouse gave birth to the genre's label. Either way, my ex-boyfriend first introduced me to it (ten years after it had erupted out of Chicago in the early 1980s). Many a happy time was spent falling in love to these tunes while recovering after days of hard partying.


-

"Baby Wants To Ride" is a very naughty song by Frankie Knuckles. I've since realised it's about a dominatrix persuading a guy to let her have her wicked way. Ooh er.

Then there's "You Used To Hold Me" by Ralphi Rosaio.


-

Sample lyrics include "What that dorky chic got wouldn't satisfy a cheese stick let alone my baby/She better take her big longhaired butt and move on 'cos he's mine, all mine." Love it.

I end on what is probably my favourite Chicago house track, "Promised Land" by Joe Smooth. It's got it all - funky rhythm, piano and strings, and an optimistic but not cheesy message.


-

So don't diss house until you've listened to these classics. All of them are on The Original Chicago House Classics (2002) album (it's on Spotify).

White Lies

If music is my boyfriend, we haven't seen much of each other lately. I've wanted to but lazily I haven't made the effort. And getting him in the diary is a nightmare because you have to book three months ahead. I'm just not organised enough. Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought about, and listened to, him though. So I finally reignited my passion for live music last night. With White Lies at Brixton Academy.

For anyone not familiar with this young quartet who hail from West London, their sound is very Joy Division, though they apparently dislike the comparison "We weren't alive during that period of music and we've never really been into Joy Division...I think we're a lot more euphoric and uplifting," they're quoted as saying. The title of one of their most well-known tracks is Death, sample lyrics "And when I see a new day/Who's driving the same way/I picture my own grave/This fear's got a hold on me/Yes this fear's got a hold on me". However much they deny it, I think it's safe to say their dark undertones lean towards the Mancunian punk-electro melancholy maestros.

Lead singer and guitarist Harry McVeigh is no tortured Ian Curtis but the timbre of his voice is captivating. Its deep richness is, I think, more distinctive than Tom Smith's voice of Editors. They got things off to a riotous start with their biggest chart success Farewell to the Fairground. The loud hypnotic drum snare and edgy synths had the whole place dancing and singing the lyrics back. The jumping around got crazier from then on. The more they played, the more the loyal crowd loved them and lost it. My attempt at recording Unfinished Business:



was thwarted by three 6ft 3 blokes behind who appeared to have lost control of their limbs such was their jittery flailing. At one point I did wonder how many people must have slipped on the pile of sick we'd narrowly avoided on the other side of the room. As soon as we saw it, we headed away to our usual safe spot (left as you look at the stage, on the slope - perfect for those who are vertically challenged like me) and vowed never to go that way again. Shiver.

We did notice that we were surrounded by similarly vertically challenged types. But unusually they were mostly male. Maybe it was because they were still in their teens and not yet fully grown. Which, while we were chuffed at being able to see, then made us feel very old. Gigs are funny like that. If you're not of the overall crowd demographic, you quickly notice. Which is why I like festivals -music lovers of all ages muck in.

White Lies have cited Talking Heads as an influence and one of the highlights last night was their cover of Heaven which was thoughtful and eerie. Of course the band performed all their cult hits from number one album To Lose My Life but it was their final song, Death, which nearly ripped the roof off. They said they were honoured to headline at Brixton [their first time] and it was something they'd remember for the rest of their lives. When they took two bows at the end of their storming gig and lingered on stage to savour the moment before throwing their drum sticks into the crowd (so rock 'n' roll), you believed them.
-----------------------------------------

White Lies were supported by Post War Years (who we missed) and Wild Beasts who were a revelation. I'd listened to Wild Beasts on Spotify before, but, like White Lies, they're a brilliant band to catch live, full of energy and naughty lyrics (just listen to The Fun Powder Plot - hilarious).