Showing posts with label Ten Feet Tall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ten Feet Tall. Show all posts

Editors gig..


The first picture from last Thursday night's (18/10/07) Editors' gig at the Carling Academy in Newcastle.

Editors have always had a certain appeal to me. Even seeing them when Ten Feet Tall hosted them at Empire, waaaaaay back when. All said though, it was a pretty rubbish gig then, about 20 people in the crowd, Editors were late coming on stage, obviously not happy, played a short 20 minute set and left. As disappointing as it had been I enjoyed the time they were on stage. So having seemed to miss every tour or festival appearence they had made for about the past two and a half years I was looking forward to last Thursday.

The Back Room for me deserved all the praise it received in 2005. It fitted perfectly with my temperment to become the soundtrack to my mental breakdown of the time. As apprehensive as I was about An End Has A Start this year, and with my initial reaction to it being "Tom's vocals sound like Danny McNamara!!", I grew to love what is obviously a very different album from their debut, with feelings that the progression fans would have liked to hear from them not happening and a slightly more mainstream sound being adopted.

Having not been to the Carling Academy since Doves in 2005 I was pleasantly suprised by the venues capacity to home a lot of people comfortably. We walked in to see the end of the Ra Ra Riot, who didn't really find their flow til their last song, bit too late.

Queue Editors:



Shockingly energetic. Pounding through their recognisable tracks from the latest album. Crowd never missing a word. Yet, something not quite right. Slight dischord here, accidental changes in tempo there, mismatching of sync of band members.

"Maybe they are drunk" suggests Paul.
"I don't think so, you know when you are watching a drunk band. The Aliens?" I reply.
"Yea. You're right."

Thrashing out some of the highlights of The Back Room and utterly enthrawling the crowd, if somewhat haphazardly in places. Let's get this straight though. In the main, they were great, fantastic, a lot better than I had ever anticipated. But the musicianship and communication of the band members let them down somewhat.

This makes it especially hard to pass comment on all the new material they featured. One in particular had an incredibly atonal first chorus, and not in a cool-Cut-Copy-atonal kind of way, just atonal and wrong. But if I'm honest I really did like the sound of the new stuff. Sorry I can't name titles of songs, but, meh, I was at a gig.

The only other disappointment of the night? Missing The Kissaway Trail. Definately worth a look.

Shy Child



Current attentions should be diverted to yet another essay. No surprise there then.

But I could not resist posting about the bloody brilliant gig I was lucky enough witness on Saturday.

I manically spent Friday pouring out word after word after word of rubbish, that was supposed to constitute an essay. It was to be handed in today. The rush to finish it on Friday? Shy Child at Middlesbrough Cornerhouse on Saturday. A truly exciting prospect.

After making my peace with the idea that I was the only person remotely interested, let alone excited - you cannot rely on the musical perception of others - enough time was spent drinking and I was suitably ready to dance off my essays.

But I was shocked and surprised. Shocked at the poor layout, feel and soundsystem of Cornerhouse. And, oh so, pleasantly surprised by the sheer calibre of Shy Child. Considering they were quite far from the actual crowd, had a column blocking their view of one another and are cool New Yorker's experiencing 'The Worst Place to Live in the UK', they held their own and certainly gave Ten Feet Tall a sexy, fun electro-crushing opening gig for their monthly Cornerhouse residency.

Here is my favourite song they did:



Afterwards, I must admit I was seen by all shaking my ample behind and throwing out some quite hideous dance moves in the room towards the back that was housing the ever-improving Kaboom. Face-paint, fights, lolli-pops, bracelets and much hogging of the dancefloor. Absolutely wicked selection in some parts.

So if you ever find yourself lost in the North East of England on a Saturday night head for Middlesbrough give it a go. You never know. You might just love it.