The Reds, Pinks and Purples

@ The Lexington, London

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

On night two, of two sold out back-to-back nights at The Lexington, and after the driest ever opening band, The Reds, Pinks and Purples, styling themselves after the colours at magic hour, were anything but abracadabra. With the bravado, body and charisma of a national bowling league champion, Glenn Donaldson played to an ageing dad rock audience shrouded in blue-black darkness. When called out on said darkness by the fans, we were kindly asked to keep it to ourselves. The 12-song set started off with ‘Record Shop’ ,where we were not at all subtly reminded in a sing-song manner to pick up the record at the merch booth after the set, way to trip at the starting line, bud.

Donaldson’s on-stage persona reminded us a lot of Cake’s John McCrea. Guess that shouldn’t be so surprising since both hail from similar regions on the planet. Their attitudes on stage, also similar and lyrical songwriting too. The feels come across sort of like, ‘I’ve made it now, so you have to put up with me’ but that’s where the similarities end. John has an old hat approach to his singing style, spoken, Sinatra-crooneresque. Donaldson, on the other hand, comes across as a mix of The Cure’s Robert Smith and Blues Traveler’s John Popper. I know, worlds apart, but this is our article, we were there and you likely weren’t. We’re dying on this hill. The music, too, differed. Unlike Cake’s constant evolution experimenting and stitching together different genres and instruments eludes The RPPs. They stick to what works and vary safely with tremolo surf styling, which were a hit with us. Overall though, we weren’t bowled over by the set, nor particularly repulsed, we just wish we’d have felt something, they had tried more, or a combination of the two.

We’re not here to trash the set, any more than a racoon can help being what it is; a trash panda. Both racoons and The RPPs have their place with us and are entertaining in equal parts, though mostly for different reasons. Few can refute that they are living their best lives, and mostly, people are here for it. Both shows at the Lexington were sold out, no doubt from longtime fans. The audience gave off Thatcher/Reagan era vibes but sold out nonetheless (Fuck you trickle-down economics Tory scum!). The atmosphere had the flavour of beans on toast, warm and comforting but not something you’d order out in front of someone (sort of like wearing a bathrobe in public). Although the music didn’t leave a bad taste in our collective mouths, the recent trend of loud-mouthed audience members did.

We will say that we were very impressed at Donaldson’s handling of the situation. Without skipping a beat Glenn sauntered over to stage right, singing into the offending member of the audience’s fat-face, giving them the attention they so desperately yearned for and so sorely lacked in their lives. It wasn’t until the lady next to us turned around and yelled “SHUT UP!!” at the top of her lungs that the offending party did so and slunk away with their tail between their legs. The highlight of the set, to be sure, as we didn’t stick around for the encore.

Willy Mason

@ The Grand Social, Dublin

By Marky Edison

We first became of aware of Willy Mason in 2004 when ‘Oxygen’ flooded the alternative radio airwaves. That protest song was his debut single and it wasn’t long before he was collaborating with The Chemical Brothers. ‘Battle Scars’ is a highlight of the We Are The Night album and we have no idea how he dropped off our radar after that.  (Apart from this guest spot on Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan’s album in 2010).

Tonight is only his second gig in Dublin, which is surprising when he’s been touring for so long. He must feel some connection with Ireland, given that a recent album of remixed tracks had a title in Irish.

The singer-songwriter is supported by the elegant vocals and sparse hollow-body guitar work of Amy May Ellis. When she started playing, there were 20 people by the stage. By the closing number, the beer garden had emptied as word had spread about her hypnotic, charming, and haunting set. A little artsy for our tastes but she certainly brought the audience on a journey.

We are perched up at the bar for the main set. The unassuming trio take the stage to a polite and understated ovation. The welcome is in keeping with the music. Mason is either very chilled, or very shy. There are a few thanks muttered but no banter between songs. They move quickly from each song to the next. The presence of the rhythm section elevates the performance from what’s been committed to tape/hard drive. It even allows Mason the chance to experiment with guitar sounds and rock out a bit. The aforementioned ‘Oxygen’ and recent single ‘Youth on a Spit’ are delivered with swagger and panache.

They’re organic and rootsy. Even when they skip between genres and throw in a country number, it’s played with well-earned confidence in their abilities and in each other. Mason may not be chatty onstage but he puts a lot into his performance and it pays off with the crowd. They’re happy to sing along, reflecting his verve back to him. It’s a rare combination to be able to write songs that enlighten and affect people while putting on an entertaining and dynamic show but Mason has it, and he’s not afraid to use it.

Dog Unit

@ Omeara, London

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

Hot on the heels of an eco-friendly album release, At Home, and a sold-out show at the Lexington earlier this month, where not even yours truly could get a spot to review, the masses are lapping up the hype swirling around none other than Dog Unit. Full disclosure: there will be dog pawns a-plenty in this done here review.

Outside Omeara, where a ‘doors open at 5:30pm’ has turned into doors at 6:30, the queue continues to grow as our patience shrinks. Eventually, we make it through the door only to be faced by a human fence across the front of the stage. Nestled in between the ammonia stenches emanating from human trees, likely coming down from a two-day jag where bathing comes second to Red Stripe tinnies, we settle in; breathing through our mouth and hoping to god the set is worth it.

John Kennedy – of X-Posure, which has just turned 25, brought together a celebration of chart climbing semi-underexposed bands, most notably for us, Dog Unit. To be fair, we were impressed with Prima Queen and Chartreuse’ set so big shout out to them for their fine performances respectively indeed. John insisted on introducing, Lucy, Sam, James and Henry by name as they hit the stage in matching boiler suits. They form an intimate setup, with Sam and Henry sat across each other, guitar in laps, as James looms above, bass in hand, with Lucy as over-watch on the drums; keeping the fiends at bay with a steady rhythm.

It’s not easy reviewing an instrumental group without a track-list or opportunity for a quick interview but we’re gonna try; while some might buck at strictly instrumentals, for us, it's the soundtrack to our lives without a muddled dialogue and, in our opinion, sometimes that's just what we need. The opener, straight liquid chill, which the crowd is pretty pleased with. It’s not easy making this set come off as effortless which to their credit is a low-key flex. The crowd has pushed forward and the gaps in the audience have filled up. Launched out of the gate by James Weaver's propulsive, funk-laden basslines, it's a perfect showcase of Walton and Scowcroft's dancing, interlocking guitars, all held in place by drummer Lucy Jamieson's deceptively dexterous beats.

Combining melancholic melody with lush, atmospheric accompaniment. Their unique sound — instrumental music that leans just as heavily on the tune-first, purist pop qualities reminiscent of instrumental bands in arms Foxtrot Sierra and the Uniforms, Captain Rico & The Ghost Band, Khruangbin. Dog Unit’s got a bit more bite than the aforementioned, when someone, somewhere, steps on a switch on a board toggling a grungy fuzz that kicks in as much as it kicks out. Tremolos rip up and down the fret board both on guitar and bass alike. Lucy’s percussion is in lockstep with James’ bass and both punch out for a bit of flavour.

Set highlights for us were Sam Walton’s tiny piano, affectionately named Harpy Harpington (by us, don’t ask why) and when Lucy pulled out gong sticks to play her kit. The sounds were ever so subtle and enveloping, well played. It's very apparent that the band is meant to complement each other's strengths. There’s contrast instead of conflict in these twangy and tripped out pseudo psychedelics, and we are totally here for it. These lot form a cohesive unit and their charming tones are certainly of the seductive persuasion. The term, ‘a tough act to follow’ came to mind more than a few times watching Dog Unit who will be touring extensively into the Autumn, keep that info on…. a tight leash, waaaay-o.