18 October 2011

Tindersticks, Janelle Monáe and the intercostal clavicle

A new blog, an inaugural post. Return here loyally, regularly, but infrequently for a variety of words.

Welcome. I begin with the news that I happily won a competition to review shows at the Usher Hall for STV Local (Edinburgh West). My first assignment was on Tindersticks on Sunday (free tickets, good seats, much enjoyed); I hope to do more. Tindersticks performed Claire Denis film scores, of which they have composed six. My review is now on the STV Local website, and has been well received by my aunt.

Having not written anything substantial since c. 2005, I felt rather out of practice in putting finger to key. The review, now birthed, niggles already with bits to be improved, but I am pleased to have got this far.

My entry for the competition (copied below) was carefully composed over several lunchtimes and submitted last week. It was a review of Janelle Monáe's February concert at the O2 ABC in Glasgow.

The android is malfunctioning. Her once-pristine pompadour has exploded and points raggedly in every direction. Embracing the New York punk of tonight’s final song, Come Alive, Janelle Monáe leaps and jerks, letting off steam after an impeccable set comprising sharply choreographed, futuristic soul and funk. 
Her first full-length album, The ArchAndroid, was critically lauded last year, but Monáe’s live performances have generated the greater buzz. Capped by her recent Glastonbury appearance, audiences have been entranced by her dancing, stage presence and phenomenal voice. Unleashing this thrashing encore on an exultant Glasgow crowd, she casts that same spell.
The experience is intoxicating. Before we start, Monáe’s image gazes down from a large video screen. She declares herself the arch-android and, introducing the opening song, reminds us there is “only one commandment: Dance or Die”. It’s an instruction impossible not to follow as we are treated to energetic numbers such as Faster and Cold War and showered with ticker tape.
Perhaps Monáe could engage more directly with the crowd, and the show seems rather short, but it is easy to forgive as you dance. The band is remarkable – tight, fun, never flagging for a second. Guitarist Kellindo Parker draws particular attention (he looks like Snoop Dogg, but plays like Prince).
But Janelle is centre stage, and her talent beguiles. Careering through Tightrope’s stuttering lyrics, she emulates her idol James Brown, magically skimming along the stage on one foot as the Godfather of Soul’s image lights the screen behind. During the slow-building Mushrooms & Roses, she paints as she sings. And from a powerful, virtuosic rendition of Charlie Chaplin’s Smile (accompanied by Parker alone) to the full-throttle finale, her voice is perfect.
The robotic theatrics excite, but we leave exhilarated by the intense human gift behind it all. She is poised for stardom.

1 comment:

laputain said...

consider yourself added to my feed reader, such that I need not check back for you. If you post, I shall hear of it.


also you have a glorious way with words.