Showing posts with label Eagulls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eagulls. Show all posts

May 21, 2016

That Was The Show That Was: Eagulls | Islington Assembly Hall, London | 19 May

That Was The Show That Was: Eagulls | Islington Assembly Hall, London | 19 May

Hotly tipped UK five Eagulls took the stage at London's Islington Academy Halls Thursday night looking every bit a part of Britain's noteworthy post-punk lineage. Fronter George Mitchell had outfitted his gaunt frame in black slacks and tucked white shirt; sonically, the Leeds-spawned act's performance felt similarly lacking in color. Roughly splitting the set list between 2014's stirring eponymous long player and this year's moodier and more atmospheric Ullages, Eagulls presented various interpretations of the hopelessness peddled by forebears including The Cure some three decades ago. While the Cure comparison intrigues, such comparisons carry expectations, and Eagulls seem to still be working out whether to embrace or elude these expectations as it seeeks its place in the canon.

On opener "Lemontrees," Mr. Mitchell's vocals were a curiosity, and echoed the anguished yelp of Robert Smith. Yet later, when the quintet covered Human League's "Seconds," Mitchell struggled to achieve the expected nuance. Even so, he did make for an engaging focal point, bopping around the stage like a drunkard staggering home from the pub. This did little to distract from a problematic live mix, however. His vocal melodies often rhythmically followed the lead guitar lines, but the sound was so muddy the standout track "Euphoria" was largely indistinguishable from its neighbor on Ullages, "My Life In Rewind." On big choruses, Mitchell sounded overwrought, sometimes jarring. Elsewhere his slurred syllables were as blurred as the grainy visuals projected behind the band.

On its recordings, Eagulls deliver well-honed dynamics, but Thursday the band presented a persistent wall of sound that swallowed up some of the music's depth and texture. At best, the constant chug of guitars -– recalling now and again The Smiths' colossal anthem "How Soon Is Now" –- served to glamorize the despair that is a post-punk band's stock-in-trade, but the lack of dynamics weighed down the performance, particularly as Eagulls hit a succession of mid-tempo tracks mid-set. Tunes from the band's first LP fared much better, particularly the fevered "Yellow Eyes." As Mitchell sang "I can't see it," fans must have been inclined to believe him, as he wended his head around, eyes shut tightly. The rocker "Possessed" from the first LP is an ever-reliable set closer and Thursday night was no different, with Mitchell snarling the title atop guitars that buzzed and shimmered. Its impact on the crowd was clear, and the song's amplified ferocity was a reminder of what a fine live act Eagulls can be when it play to its strengths. Traams and 99 Watts opened. -- Theo Gorst, Special Correspondent

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June 25, 2012

Today's Hotness: Markus Mehr, Joey Fourr, Eagulls

Markus Mehr -- On

>> Although Clicky HQ typically focuses on matters guitar and pop -- whatever that means these days -- we also enjoy the kaleidoscopic world of electronic music, and we're endeavoring to re-engage with it editorially after some time away. We've warmly received the new full-length from Augsburg, Germany-based ambient electronic artist Markus Mehr. Out July 17th on Hidden Shoal Recordings, On is Mr. Mehr's third record working under his own name; it is filled with immaculately constructed instrumentals, appointed with imaginative instrumentation and illuminating samples, that are as soothing as they are transporting. While much non-"pop" electronic music is rooted firmly in repetition, Mehr impresses with his ability to proffer a different approach to his craft with each song here. Lead single "Flaming Youth" doesn't develop dramatically, with its buzzing stereo entrance and a locked-groove horn sample instead steadily exhaling and inhaling across seven minutes. The intro evokes the summertime sounds of a busy bug zapper, before settling into a lush and beautiful motif that recalls the Canadian-metropolitan beauty of certain Broken Social Scene instrumentals. The real gems of On are the one-two punch at the close of the record. The aptly titled "Monks On The Beach" presents an ethereal chant smothered with static and multiple tracks of childish conversation tied together with a subtle, distorted bass guitar pulse. The song builds to the massive finale "Tunnels," itself a gradually swelling behemoth. Chirping phasing sounds give way to a persistent three-chord piano figure that suddenly yields to a series of gargantuan distorted piano slams. With each strike Mehr subtly tweaks the fuzz with flanges and clipping until the tempo climaxes and the song implodes. Like a lot of the best artists within this genre attracting wider audiences (Fennesz, Eluvium and the great William Basinski to name a few), Mehr is able to infuse his art with cool effortlessness and power sufficient to hold a mirror to the listener's soul with a series of patient epiphanies. Buy On from Hidden Shoal right here and download "Flaming Youth" via the embed below. -- Edward Charlton



>> Given the great degree to which we've enjoyed the music the label puts out (seriously, have you heard this?), it is surprising we're only just now mentioning Art Is Hard's delightful biweekly 5" Pizza Club single series (each pizza-printed CD comes in a limited physical edition of ONE in a handmade pizza box). One recent track from the series has burrowed particularly deeply into the Clicky Clicky hive mind, the lightly psychedelic single "Cross Dresser" from Joey Fourr, a nom de rock of Joseph Prendergast, fronter of English alt-rockers Tubelord. The single is a galloping indie rocker with a trampled lead falsetto vocal and very cool production flourishes. Starting with a dance floor-ready electronic beat and distorted rhythm guitars, the tune showcases an insistent lead riff that repeatedly crops up throughout. And what a lead it is, effectively winning the award for the "What Instrument Is Making That Weird Sound?" category. Like some sort of hell-bent whistling, the genius of "Cross Dresser" is in how hard it is to place the source material. Is that a maniacal guitar? A broken synthesizer? The lone physical manifestation of "Cross Dresser" is of course sold out, but the song will appear in/on an upcoming Joey Fourr zine/EP titled How To Buy Happiness from Art Is Hard, so stay tuned. The Pizza Club series is worth following not just for the quality of the tunes offered, but also the sheer generosity of a label that is so willing to give away quality tunes twice a month. We're currently unable to make the embed of "Cross Dresser" work, so make certain to do yourself a favor and get the track for free right here. -- Edward Charlton

>> Leeds-based rockers Eagulls recently announced a self-titled 12" vinyl EP for release July 16th on the Sexbeat Records imprint whose lead track "Coffin" is a unabashed, collar-grabbing, big-guitar anthem. Like the critically acclaimed newcomers Iceage, Eagulls top precise drumming and hotly-recorded, progressive guitars with classic punk yelping, all on display here with "Coffin," an embed of which is below. The opening guitar riff sets things up with an inviting and detailed flange that falsely advertises as a Catherine Wheel song before the rhythm section snaps listeners to attention. The self-described "progressive punks" would seem to be part of a rising European scene of tough yet intellectual rockers that borrow as much from America's post-hardcore heritage as their own dreamier and excogitated indie pedigree. And perhaps the song is a narrative for this generation of European indie bands: with a crumbling EU economy, mass unemployment and other tensions continually pervading every facet of life, what's a young person to do but sit in their room and come to terms with the fact that it's a different world than was promised, much as Leeds' post-punk godfathers Gang Of Four did three decades ago. The Eagulls EP comes on green vinyl and features a poster drawn by the band themselves. Order direct from the label here. -- Edward Charlton