WORDS: ADAM SMITH
Birmingham, that murky, grey metropolis. It’s easy to think of everything in the ‘second city’ as indistinct and ethereal as a cloud of smoke, a no-man’s land slap bang in the middle of the country, not far enough south to have a snobby art streak, not northern enough to have that quintessential soul; just stuffed of kids filling their heads with dreams of London. On first impressions the music scene seems to represent just this, be it Editors‘ dreary drone or The Twang‘s desperate New Laddism; this is not a place which bands are proud to call home. And why would they? Birmingham boasts a musical heritage so bland – UB40, Black Sabbath and Duran Duran – that the ‘progressive’ council is trying to concrete over it, tearing down venue after venue until all that remains is a hulking great shopping centre. Even touring bands have noted the rot and had the good sense to nickname Birmingham ‘dry balls’ and drive straight on through.
But there’s more to Birmingham than meets the eye. This is, after all, the city which gave us Broadcast, Swell Maps and the Au Pairs, so there must be something in the water besides dead pets and arsenic. So scratch the surface and take a sniff- you may just catch a whiff of the series of sweaty iconoclasts who are mining out a secret lineage of creative irreverence with the kind of frenzied skattershot passion which can only come from people who grow up somewhere where there’s nothing much to believe in.
Venue:
The Rainbow is Birmingham’s epicentre for hipsters, thugs and actual creative types. Picture Andy Warhol’s factory if it was run by a drunken ex-boxer and covered in illegible tags, crude graffiti and vomit, all the while being sound tracked by pulverizing bass frequencies. Nestled in the heart of Digbeth’s industrial decay, the Rainbow complex boasts a pub, courtyard, warehouse and a garden (complete with alcohol soaked AstroTurf), and is far enough away from actual society to pretty much get away with whatever you want. The Rainbow has hosted countless great club nights and bands, and is so cherished amongst the local community that they recently overturned a noise abatement order on a tidal wave of public support. Staff and supporters of the Rainbow celebrated in atypical fashion, hosting a rock n roll triathlon which consisted of downing a pint, snorting a line of something, then hurling a TV out of the pub window onto picture of councilor Clive Dutton.
Parties:
One of the most notable nights to grace the Birmingham is Bigger than Barry. Named after the heaviest man in Britain, and hosted by a trio of lovable reprobates, Bigger than Barry’s belt size has increased rapidly in recent times as they’ve rolled out their murky parties across the country. Birmingham will always be their home though, and it’s here they’ve hosted their fattest nights featuring DJs such as Rusko, Fake Blood, Diplo, Drop the Lime and Annie Mac. Barry’s ket addled organisers have proven time after time to be surprisingly astute, repeatedly filling warehouses with thousands of fiendish wastemen. They’ve always been ahead of the time with their dirty mix of dubstep, bassline and grime, but more important than the music has always been the audience; a diverse mash of cool kids, chavs and criminals, and it’s the brutal brawl that seems ever imminent which is the key factor in sustaining the Barry party vibe.
Bands:
The same cocktail of influences drives many of Birmingham’s best bands. Nowhere is this more evident than in the case of Tantrums. This fresh-faced four piece have been playing together since they were about 12 and were once a ghastly indie act known as Mayday. These days they’ve dressed up their driving guitar anthems with a dizzying spectrum of sounds, incorporating elements of math, dub, prog and ska. These seemingly diverse elements are brought together by a selection of fine vocal melodies and an frantic live act frequently culminating in the destruction of cheap Casio keyboards.
Idiosync share a similar ethnic make up, and progressive attitude, as Tantrums. However, they apply their varied palate of influence, from indie to post hardcore, colouring the angular time signatures and jagged guitars in a swath of effects pedals, samples and beats to create what they call ‘artbeat’; a combination of art rock and breakbeat, which in practice comes across kind of like At the Drive-in fronted by Kele from Bloc Party. Despite being nowhere near distinct enough to start coining their own genres, they do have an immediate sound, a fine selection of songs and a mustachioed drummer who could easily pass as a rent boy.
Calories rose from the ashes of Distophia, a noise-pop outfit whose much deserved glory was robbed by the success of Hard-Fi and the nefarious actions of Necessary records, which both bands were on. Calories strip the textured bluster of their previous band down to its composite parts, until nothing is left but a series of potent pop gems; at once anthemic and extremely accessible whilst sacrificing nothing in terms of creativity and credibility. Their seamlessly tight songs such as ‘Adventuring’ and ‘A bear, a Bison’ evoke the infectious bluster of Cap’n Jazz, whilst a new album expected in 2010 will surely cermet their reputation as Birmingham’s finest songwriters.
Das Bastard are another band of old dogs who’ve learned a few new tricks. Fronted by Kieran Duffy, formerly Untitled Musical Project – a.k.a. Birmingham’s best McLusky copyists – Das Bastard have turned down the tempto and upped the ante, crafting a rhythmic racket of sludgey guitars and throat tearing howls. Vicious and sardonic, Das Bastard are exactly the sort of band who’d stab you in the back with an aids ridden syringe.
Usually my tolerance for a pair of weaselly, leather clad pant sniffers would be pretty low. But when they make such fine lo-fi garage rock I can just about let them off. Vinny and the Curse’s music is a jangly rush of old guitars, standing drums, dirty swagger and melodies ripped directly from Stooges rarities. Although these two douchebags are far to obvious to be truly cool, their absolute commitment to upholding the sixties image means their music is never anything but authentic.
Sam Manville is usually found screaming, scissor kicking and falling off stage as the front man of Birmingham thrash band Blakfish. But in his spare time he’s clearly set out to prove he has a sensitive side with an impressive selection of bedroom recordings which make you wonder whether he should give up the day job. Greatest Hits’ recorded material is impressive enough, combining layered vocal melodies, introspective lyrics and understated beats a bit like Get Cape Wear Cape Fly… only not shit. Live however, Sam really comes into his own, delivering his songs in the style of a caustic, politically indifferent Billy Bragg and peppering his set with banter which is frequently even better than the music.
Unapologetically twee, Ace Bushy Striptease are a splendid sugar rush of stop-start tempos, angular guitars, boy-girl vocals and crippled keyboards, like some kind of forlorn love poem to cassette culture. Their music is delivered with a deliriously short attention span, which sees them swapping everything from instruments to styles in the space of a single song. Some of their tunes like ‘Lluvya’ are so catchy that one could imagine the band achieving a modest degree of success if they didn’t have the commercial sense of Guided By Voices.
Tommy Seddon, like any good hip-hop producer, has more than one moniker, also operating under the suitably skivvy name ‘Supahands’ – a West Ruislip rude boy who somehow worked his way to the West Midlands and is now single-handedly proving that Birmingham is only a stone’s throw away stylistically from Los Angeles. Sedkno’s soulful, analogue beats evoke Madlib, J Dilla and all those other producers than pretentious indie bands like to namecheck (see These New Puritans). His prolific output, creative sampling and thrilling cut and paste style is turning heads throughout Birmingham and can be heard on his forthcoming ‘Kurrupped-Shan’ record, which is dropping soon on the awesome ‘Eat a Book’ label.
I hope you enjoyed my guided tour of Birmingham. If you thought it was shit, or you’re annoyed that I didn’t mention your band/club night/venue, come along to Naked Lunch on Tuesdays at the Rainbow and punch me in the face.
