Up-Coming Gigs // Palma Violets + Peace

For a concert enthusiast, your personal postman slowly becomes to be your best-friend. Shitty day? Postman rocks up in his regal red van delivering concert tickets. Great day at sixth form / college? made even better by the surprise arrival of gig tickets. Tickets, tickets, tickets. The premium, sort-after piece of card that can turn your friends and foes green with envy with a quick swipe under their noses.

Two sought-after precious cards came through my door today - a welcoming surprise after my utter abysmal day at dreary sixth form. The two passes, which are soon to open up the world of euphoric wonder for a handful of hours, are two relatively known bands who's reputations are steadily exceeding themselves. The two prestigious bands are Palma Violets and Peace.

To be fair, I'm more excited to see Peace's support act on the November / December tour, rather than themselves. Drenge support Peace this Winter. Drenge. Breathe. Drenge are possibly one of the most highly rated bands around at the current time, consisting of the two Loveless brothers. Loveless by name, loveless by nature. 'I Wanna Break You In Half' and 'People In Love Make Me Feel Yuck', give off the impression that maybe Drenge aren't going to be that shoe gazing pop group playing about with the synthesiser.

Four-piece Peace from Worcester however, need no introduction. NME has crammed their name into every issue and it's seriously impossible to get away from them. But, are they worth the hype? Yeah, definitely. I seen them live at T In The Park earlier this year, and their live performance is full of camp sparkle to get you dancing. Harry Koisser was dressed for the Scottish weather appropriately, with a large, over-sized fur coat dangling off his skinny body, as the band raced through their roaring set from debut album 'In Love'.

Peace's gig (originally being held at Hoult's Yard, Newcastle) has been moved to Northumbria Uni, on December 1st. I haven't been to Northumbria Uni for a gig before, so I'm hoping that when I report back it'll be a positive experience from an intimate gig.

The second ticket that came through the post today was Palma Violets. What can I say? There is only one word that can possibly describe Palma Violets: fuck. I also seen the the indie-rock quartet, originating from Lambeth London, live at T in The Park this year also. It was one of those performances that had you completely mesmerised, and at one point I did feel tears streaming down my face.

Palma Violets are supported on tour by a band called Baby Strange, who I am yet to look into - but to support a band, also heavily promoted by NME, must mean their half-alright doesn't it? Palma's bring a fusion of energy and the mood of a wild party to the stage with tracks from their debut '180'. They play Newcastle Uni on November 22nd and are sure to deliver another unforgettable set in a sweaty, intimate basement setting. Every human in the room is bound to be doused in twenty other peoples sweat. And strangely, I for one, can't wait for either of them!

The New NME

Question - What famous accronem hypes up bands so far up their own arses that the never seem to drop of the Radar?
Answer - NME

NME has been going since 1952 and since then the idealistic writers have penned their opinions in their own blood, and has been created super-hyped-up bands since then. Think of Haim before NME as a ham sandwich. Sprinkle some fairy dust in the form of NME and the plain ham has pretty much magically turned to bacon over-night. The magazine has changed lives: fact

NME isn't dear. It's £2.40. That's 2400 pennies that would've been used for our music mad teenagers to purchase their next bag of weed, which sadly, they're so much more interested in.

So think of it like this; kids these days are so far up on the indie scale, and the trippy part of Youtube (which is usually un-covered on a nocturnal time of 5 in the morning) is at their finger-tips... So why do we still need to pay for a magazine? Why do we still need NME?

The front cover of the brand-spanking-new issue which adorned by David Bowie, holding what seem to be the paper-to-swan party trick, has something written on it which answers our needy questions.

 'The Past, Present & Future of music'

The Past of music -  It's been the eye-catching prize of every music obsessed teenager for the past sixty one years, it's written down the hearts and souls of teenage icons in black and white.
The Present of music - think about all the new bands that have suddenly risen from the decay of pop music, thanks to the likes of Nicki Minaj and Lil' Wayne. Without NME, Swim Deep would've just been another dare at the pool side. Peace would've been a valid reason to smoke weed. And Palma Violets would still've been those awfully bright coloured sweets you desperately avoid in the multi-pack sweet packets.
The Future of music - basically; how about you ask Liam and Noel Gallagher how many more records they've sold since they've been mentioned in every NME issue at least once every week?

You might find kiss-assing and puckering up to the likes of Arctic Monkeys and swooning over Miles Kane too much... But you can't deny that at one time or other, NME has been the first website or first magazine you've scoured to find.

'Writing about music is like dancing about architecture'

What's in this weeks issue?
The first issue of the more compact sized NME is no-short of music. Normally the NME has an exaggerated number of pages plastered with shit that nobody actually cares about, like the downfall of Razorlight for example. Not now. Brimming with new music and jam-packed with serious opinions from some of the best writers in the country. Throw in a column by Radio 1's Huw Stephens and we're seriously on to a winner here.
And for the David Bowie super-fans you scream? A ten page spread to fill all your sexual cravings from the man with many faces!

NME has seriously bucked it's ideas up. It's back. It's smaller, but it's no short of packing a punch. And it's about fucking time.
 

babyshambles // 5.09.13

Flick through a newspaper, and their pages will be littered with the usual suspects; political scandals, alleged love children and athletes being busted. But sometimes, we forget about a figure whose spiralling life sometimes over-shadows his ‘next Oscar Wilde’ status, breaking onto the scene ten years ago.

An Ex-Libertine: who shared a violent and failed engagement to one of the most beautifully coked-up supermodels of our time. Throw in a jail sentence and dealing with a death, occurring from the same substance that keeps his fire alight: you’ve reached thechaos jackpot. So how come, after the rehab stints, the accidental child and a hollowing drug addiction; is Peter Doherty still standing?

Dirty Pete and his band of Shambles may have a record against them for not exactly giving the correct ‘Delivery’ when it comes to shows. With Doherty’s priority of substance not giving the same effect of his fans euphoria. But it’s fair to say, that Babyshambles really proved what they were made of on September 5^th, at the O2 Academy in Newcastle.

Fresh faced and poised for action; Pete’s second band, after the infamous Libertines, rallied through their bouncing set list of songs from the past three albums. Old favourites such as ‘Delivery’, ‘Killamangiro’ and ‘8 Dead Boys’ saw the masculine orientated crowd bouncing from bar to stage and back to front. Singles from new album ‘Sequel to the Prequel’ such as ‘Farmer’s Daughter’ and ‘Fall from Grace’ went down a storm, with sweaty bodies gently entwining around each other.

A new lease of life seemed to radiate through Doherty as he sang a short (yet slurred) rendition of Lindisfarne’s classic ‘Fog on the Tyne’, playing on his North East Background, before pelting himself into the adrenaline fuelled crowd. Madness: with no control. Doherty’s devoted fans scratched their way through the pit to caress any part of Pete that they could get their sweaty palms on. One lucky kid threw his phone in front of him screaming “Pete take a selfie!” Doherty giving him a boyishly cheesy grin sent him, and the rest of the pit wild with excitement.

Doherty managed to escape the clutches of his adolescent fan-girls hatless and with two less shoes five minutes later, leaving a trail of disbelief in his wake, not to mention a mass-pile on!  Still, his spirits hadn’t seemed to dampen after his soft-core attack. A laugh of pure happiness left Doherty’s lips as he and Babyshambles created a ear-defining roar as their set came to a rowdy close with a chorus of ‘Fuck forever, if you don’t mind’.

A night full of surprises: a salute to Babyshambles for their phenomenal performance.  The poet, whose drug-incrusted mind spouts oozy, romantic poems in the form of songs, is back; and he’ll not be looking back into the sun anytime soon. Time will tell, but there’s nowhere for Doherty to go but up!

 Babyshambles’s highly-rated new album ‘Sequel to the Prequel’ is available to buy in all good record stores, and available for digital download now.

Sunday Night Haim

They're fucking everywhere, Haim. You may be able to avoid hearing their acquired taste of jangly music, but you can't face the facts that they are everywhere and I mean e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e!

They've played at almost every festival this year, accompanied with all their sing-along songs, (three to be exact) and have been in almost all of the NME issues this year. Next time you pick NME up, instead of spotting Noel or Liam Gallagher in each issue (which they are if you don't believe me (I kid you not I mean every issue)) try to spot the Haim sisters.

They're tall, they're quirky-lee beautiful and play a rocking guitar riff which sends ripples up your spine. I'm a bit late to be boarding the Haim train; but in all honesty I really haven't been able to stomach them until tonight.

There's something really dazzlingly different about Haim; they're not the students cup of tea, but once you have a drink you'll be crazy to believe your life was worth living before them. Too extreme? Have you even heard 'Don't Save Me' yet?

Released almost 9 months ago, 'Don't Save Me' is an un-mistakable grower. It's inevitable but it takes time - and I mean it really really takes time. I first heard the foot-tapping electrifying 'Don't Save Me' when the hype had just started to build around the three American girls in this band. And it was fucking awful. Their dreamy patters of their voices are just too much America-dream-Barbie on first listen. But once in the swing of it all - it dawns on you. They've really created something special.

Their space-pop voices rattle around the booming echos of their killer guitar riff. Add in a splash of western influence on 'The Wire' and you've cooked up a storm of colour and images which can only lead back to the three girls never-ending legs.

Sunday nights are made for music. And they're made for re-kindling new-love and re-instating realisation. Haim are a tough listen; but once you've adjusted yourself to the right place... Colours burst in your eyes and you finally do understand the hype that NME have delivered so much of.

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

When the world is in the palm of your hands, waiting with baited breath as you run your fingers through your now legendary quiff; what must run through Alex Turner's mind when penning a song for his bands 5th studio album? What wonders of mischief and magic can spring to mind? Apparently, that time he got high after being in a club, remembering about the girl he dropped awhile ago then ringing her up and getting pied. Standard Arctic Monkeys.

"It's three in the morning / and I'm tryna' change your mind" the booming vocals ring out across the top of a heavy bass line and curdle with Matt Helders steady balance of repetitive drum beats. The song is good, there's no doubt about it. It's the future of Arctic Monkeys and a tasty splash of what we're to expect for the imaginatively named 5th album 'AM'. But is Turner trying to conjure up where his life is heading?

It's fair to say that even extreme Arctic Monkey's fangirls who scream at the sight of a quiff, don't really know anything about the Monkey's private lives. For many of the naive fans, which god help them there are some, they won't have even know Turner and co. even thought about drugs, as they've never really been that glamorised in a Monkey's song before. So why now?

If we assume that this bass line-driven song with sickly slick vocals is about Turner, then who is he ringing at three in the morning while completely off his face? Girlfriend Arielle Vandenberg? Or another secret dark source that rhymes with Nexta Sung? Who knows and who cares, with a hauntingly catchy song like this one; the Monkey's will be soaking up the praise and boosting their album sales.

Grabbing a hold on an early nineties tune dripping with swagger and mixing it with an electric vibe full of power; the song is sure to send fans the right way and shouting the ever-so-catchy line of "why'd you only call me when you're high?"

It's new, it's fresh, and it's a step into the future and a sight into the ever-ageing Alex Turner's mind. They're not sitting in the fish and chip shop any more - that much is for sure.