I knew something was afoot when the same few reliable voices all started whispering the words Helpful People to me in unison, and it only took a few seconds of hearing Bugs From Below to know that this would be the latest Bay Area sound to sweep me off my feet.
Helpful People features the brilliant Carly Putnam (The Oilies/The Mantles) alongside the higher janglelord himself Glenn Donaldson (The Reds, Pinks & Purples/Vacant Gardens) and theirs is a whole ocean of chemistry to bathe in.
This first single from forthcoming album brokenblossom threats hits that same sweet spot that fellow San Francisco dreamers Flowertown so excel at; hazy and romantic, like the last embers of evening sun collapsing over the Bay.
There is something about this music from that place that just shimmers it’s way straight to my heart every single time, and with one gentle kiss of a song Helpful People already have me in the palms of their hands.
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I first became aware of Bay Area band Violent Change when I caught a friends Instagram video of a recent live performance. When a couple of weeks later one of the coolest people I know mentioned them to me I knew it was time to properly explore their gritty, vital back catalogue.
With treasure in abundance dating back to 2012 and a new album very much close by, I decided to write a few words about the self titled EP that was released in July 2020 via Sloth Mate Productions. It’s exactly the short, sharp shock of creativity and wonder that I’m living for these days, and it grabbed me from the very first note.
Opener Squandered is a revelation in its combination of groove and fractured, distant harmonies. It sounds like the band used the cheapest, dirtiest time machine imaginable to travel back to 1979 and capture the best post-punk disco track you’ve never heard, on the foggiest, murkiest day of the year. Utterly glorious and completely essential.
For this release Violent Change were operating as a duo combining core member Matt Bleyle with former RAYS man Stanley Martinez, and shades of the latters current Children Maybe Later project can be found in third track Open Space. This tune incorporates the spirit of Sixties garage psychedelia, but shot through with all the weirdness and weariness of trying to navigate life as it is today. By somehow looking both backwards and forwards in their ambitions and intent, this band keep the listener firmly in the here and now.
This is music to escape into, in search of the fragments of melody or rhythmic pulse that you know are lurking beneath layer upon layer of lo-fi haze. Production Life regularly collapses in on itself as it tumbles along, never letting you get too comfortable within its continuously shifting dynamics, and closer Dreary Example takes all that has come before and moulds it into a (fairly) cohesive whole to wrap up a truly wonderful EP that doesn’t stand still for a single second.
I am only just discovering what has come before and I’m already excited to hear what’s coming next. The Bay Area never fails to deliver us the most intriguing, beautiful music and there is no sign of that changing any time soon.
Very recently via Twitter I found the music and musings of Ironic Hill, or maybe the music and musings found me, in all honesty I’m not too sure. One moment this strange beautiful music wasn’t in my life, the next it was, and it’s compelled me to write this piece to hopefully get the word out just that little bit further.
When you first discover Ironic Hill you soon realise it’s more than just the songs. There is a blog containing short stories and beautifully descriptive gig reviews, and a Twitter account showcasing sketches and lyrics in addition to the intriguing, shimmering music that I write of here. Details on the creator of this work are scarce. There’s talk of struggle leading to eventual breakdown, and attempting to rebuild better, cleaner and stronger. It is clear from the off that this anonymous project is a massive part of that process.
The album itself is packed with sweetly melodic stories of domesticity and day to day existence, laced with the reality that such stories often carry with them a ton of baggage and confusion. The music is DIY in nature but not particularly lo-fi in sound or feel. A mixture of intricate guitar lines and barely contained feedback dance beneath plaintive but affecting vocals, providing just the right contrast between craft and fuzz to keep both songwriting purists and those in search of something a little weirder happy.
Highlights abound as the album progresses. Easy serves as a reminder of how often we can be our own worst enemy when faced with times of trouble. Mess provides a particularly poignant metaphor for the mental baggage we accumulate as we navigate life and its continuously shifting complexities, whilst Wish is a beautifully fragile anthem for anybody still trying to wrestle with any kind of dream as life does is best to wake you, often violently, at every turn.
Having this mysterious artist in and around my life somehow makes everything seem a little better for a little while. In these strangest of times when life can seem like an almost insurmountable struggle, it is a comfort to find music such as this to prove we are not struggling alone.
Kevin Linn is at the heart of so much of the great music that comes out of the San Francisco underground. His label Paisley Shirt Records is awash with incredible outsider sounds, he lends his instrumental talent as and when it’s required, and puts out gloriously skewed DIY-pop with his own Sad Eyed Beatniks project.
Present Electric was an unfamiliar name to me when it landed on Bandcamp this week, but it only took a few seconds of the first released track Snurr-Skivan for me to work out who was behind those elastic-like guitar lines and beautifully fractured beats. A slow trawl back through Bandcamp revealed more of this dark chaotic anti-pop and it soon became apparent that this alter ego was yet another way for Linn to express the creativity that seemingly bursts from his every pore.
Whilst heavier and a few shades darker than his Sad Eyed Beatniks material, this vital, urgent music could only have come from the same wonderfully open mind. Raw and uncompromising, and rough at it’s centre let alone around it’s edges, Present Electric provides yet another pathway through the ever evolving Bay Area underground. In the battle between finesse and feeling there can only ever be one winner for me, and these sprawling experimental soundscapes feel like exactly the kind of place I want to be right now.
Where to begin with The Gabys? A UK duo with no definable online presence, and two EPs to their name over the course of two years, both on small US labels, one out of Detroit, one out of California. They have garnered the respect of the San Francisco underground and now slowly but surely all the right heads are beginning to turn here in the UK. But who are they? What drives them to create the woozy lo-fi soundscapes that envelop the purest vocal melodies I have heard in recent memory? Don’t worry readers, I’ve got your back.
Using the kind of internet sleuthing skills that only a hardened shift worker with too much time on his hands can muster, I tracked down this most elusive of bands and reached out with a few questions, which they very kindly agreed to answer:
It’s clear that you guys like to keep things very low key. I just wondered if there was anything you were willing to give away at this point with regards to your origin story?
Natasha: We started to record as The Gabys during COVID-19 lockdowns, finding ourselves at home so much we started to develop some songs and figured out a sound. There was such a shift in how we spent our time, causing us to re-examine what we were doing day to day and why, I think a lot of people perhaps had the same experience.
Matt: Yeah, it all started during the lockdown for us. It took a bit of wrangling to get Natasha to sing. A couple of the songs on the first tape are pretty old ones, but most were put together during that period. We mostly learnt how to use the 4 track on the job. ‘Gaby’s Daydream’ was our first song.
You are a UK based duo but both of your EPs thus far have emerged on small US labels. How did that come about?
M: It wasn’t really a conscious decision to only release music on US labels. We’ve been really fortunate that the people we have been in touch with are so generous and willing to take a chance on a band who have barely any online presence! Chris from All Gone, and Chris and Glenn from Fruits and Flowers put out (and make) such amazing music, we are very thankful. Also, I get an embarrassing amount of my listening from their social media recommendations.
N: Yes, thank you Chris, and thank you Chris and Glenn!
I have found your total lack of internet presence so far very refreshing. Was it a conscious decision to step back from that kind of promotion, or just the way things have panned out thus far?
N: Generally speaking social media has not been something I’ve used much in my personal life, I’m quite a private person, so it was natural for us to not have much of a presence in that sphere to begin with as it just doesn’t occur to me to use it.
However, it is good to communicate practical things and we’ve also been fortunate to connect with people over time, so we’re getting used to remembering that it’s there. Luckily my aversion to social media hasn’t stopped people from finding and hearing our music elsewhere.
M: I think because the nature of the music is quite intimate, it feels appropriate. But, it’s not quite a total social media blackout, I wouldn’t follow us for any especially riveting content in the near future though!
What’s next for The Gabys? Are there any plans to record an album or step out for live dates?
M: We’re working on a batch of new songs at the moment and thinking about the arrangements a bit more carefully this time. Life has got in the way over the last year or so, so we have a bit of a backlog that we are excited to record. We may play live at some point, but we want to put out more music first.
N: We’re enjoying recording the new songs and who knows maybe we’ll play live at some point, logistically speaking we need a couple more people to contribute, so that’s something we need to work on. I’m excited about the idea of making some visuals to go with the music, it seems like a nice way to connect with people, I love watching the self-made music videos that other people make. The Trish Keenan directed version of ‘Black Cat’ is such a wonderful insight in to her world.
What artists or albums have been the biggest influence on your sound and song writing thus far?
N: In terms of thematic influences, we look for inspiration in all kinds of places, in books and films and also people’s lives (ironically, including on social media), just everything around us that tells a story. I suppose we’re looking for the thing that is interesting about whatever it is that we’re engaging with, and then we try to capture that. For example, the song ‘Gardens’ came about when I was reading a magazine and I saw a little bio for a person called Emily who was a garden designer, the words “Emily designs gardens” just seemed like such a fixed statement it interested me to think about this person who was so easy to define, at the time I wished I could be summed up in such a short sentence, so matter of fact, and a little lament came out in song which was then built upon. I think the most important or valuable thing in art is that it is expressive, I really admire artists like Linda Smith and Arthur Russell for this quality, as well as many visual artists, writers, and poets like Celia Paul and Alice Oswald.
M: It’s hard to list influences as inevitably things that were really important when I was sixteen or even five years ago would fade in to the background, which wouldn’t be quite true to life. Having said that, mainstays are The Velvet Underground and Broadcast. Music wise, most things are built on top of what has come before and so the language already seems to exist for anything we’re trying to express, it’s just a case of listening closely and that seeps in and allows for something to be created.
So there we have it, our first tentative steps inside the world of The Gabys, a band who, if you’re anything like me you’ll now find yourself even more endeared to and enamoured with. There is a real synergy between the answers they provided and the beautiful noise they create, and I find myself listening deeper, with greater clarity than ever before.
However, having said all of the above, every answer here could easily lead to another question and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The Gabys are giving us everything we need by keeping us wanting more. They have us in the palm of their hands and I for one can’t wait to see where they take us next.
Massive thanks to Natasha and Matt for agreeing to this interview.
The scene here in Southend had been a little bleak since Covid hit if I’m honest. Alternative pub, hub and venue The Railway finally closed its doors after years of struggle, and with it seemingly died a thousand indie pop dreams. Local labels stopped releasing music and bands stalled and splintered as we, like everybody else on the planet, bunkered down and took stock.
I’m delighted to say that this enforced retreat seems to at last be showing the green shoots of recovery, as a new kind of alternative pathway begins to forge through our City. Regular venue nights have begun showcasing wonderful fresh ideas, Record Shops are hosting live in-stores again, and new bands are forming from old embers, with Jazz, folk and electronica as prevalent as the buzz and jangle of electric guitars.
Masal, formed by keys wizard Al Johnson and harpist Oz Simsek following a chance meeting in Leigh-On-Sea, have been releasing music since the pandemic era and this latest album, recorded in collaboration with current Ride and former Oasis man Andy Bell for Sonic Cathedral, ties in beautifully with the new wave of sounds coming out of the Southend area at present. Bell came on board for this project after a joint gig in Chelmsford revealed shared musical ground that required further exploration, and the fruits of that exploration have now arrived in the form of Tidal Love Numbers.
As someone who is currently existing on a musical diet of mostly indie, shoegaze and dreampop with regular doses of Jazz as a palette cleanser, this album has hit at exactly the right time. It’s the shoegaze/astral jazz mash-up my often nocturnal listening habits have been calling out for.
The first half of Tidal Love Numbers leans heavily into the ambient, with a new world for us to seek solace in seemingly created before our very ears. Bell’s unmistakable guitar textures provide the air that moves in and around Johnson and Simsek’s unique musical telepathy, moving us subtly skyward as we head towards the albums second half.
Third track Tidal Love Conversation In That Familiar Golden Orchard introduces a beautiful falling bass line, which is joined halfway through by a spacey, rolling groove for the most song-oriented section of the album. After keeping us under its spell for nine or so blissful minutes we are left with the stunning interplay of A Pyramid Hidden By Centuries Of Neon Green Undergrowth, during which we are treated to a meditative musical dialogue between the three players, bringing us to the albums conclusion.
If guitars are your thing and you’re looking for a route towards the kosmische then Tidal Love Numbers could well be your gateway. If you’re already there you’ll be drawn in by this albums fresh approach to long established ideas. A triumph then, whichever way the tide carries you.
I first caught Ulrika Spacek live as a support act back in 2016. I had no prior knowledge of their work but as soon as they launched into their debut album centrepiece Beta Male I pretty much needed scraping off of the venue floor. Since then their work has evolved across three albums and an EP, a heady, intoxicating mix of urgent artrock and motorik-esque indie mixed with moments of gentle ambient beauty.
London’s Lafayette is certainly a pretty venue. There’s an initial wow factor that gives way to a slight awkwardness as you work your way around its various twists and turns in an attempt to find a good view and feel of the action. Ultimately though, to my well weathered ears the sound itself is spot on and that is always the main thing.
This gig is a homecoming show, wrapping up a successful tour around Europe and the UK in support of latest album Compact Trauma, and the band hit the ground running from the off. Ulrika Spacek’s sound is uniquely powerful but never aggressive, with a triple guitar set up that still somehow leaves space for the rhythms and electronics to flourish. They are tight, controlled and let the songs themselves do the heavy lifting. There is no need for histrionics when the work is this strong, this important.
On the night the band play songs from across their back catalogue, which brings into sharp focus the sheer consistency of their brilliance. Everything, All The Time is relentless in its white heat energy, Freudian Slip brings an almost Can-like fluidity in its extended grooves, and the stunning If The Wheels Are Coming Off, The Wheels Are Coming Off is a heavy, stuttering juggernaut that pummels with both grace and raw power. They link these songs with short incidental passages that have the audience poised perfectly, waiting for the next beat to drop, to be taken somewhere higher, somewhere better for a little while.
The set finishes with recent single No Design, which provides one of those life affirming moments when time itself seems incredibly short and vital, and every bit of love and hope inside yourself screams to be let out into the light, regardless of fear or consequence. I shall leave you with the closing lyrics of that most beautiful of endings, and recommend that you catch this band as soon as you possibly can.
Passing into night Blanket me and tell me there’s no design And if all the world is broken Then hide away in autumn And shut out the fascists and the cowards.
Outrageously late to the party on this one and I know a few reading this will be all like ‘well yeah where have you been?’ but I’m five thousand miles away from the action and delighted to say that I caught up in the end. This 2018 album has totally blown me away so naturally I’m here to hopefully pull a few fellow slowcoaches along for the ride.
It’s no secret that the Whitney’s Playland album Sunset Sea Breeze has really grabbed me this year so it’s only natural that I dived into that bands backstory in pursuit of further magic. With this album I hit pure gold.
San Francisco based Blades Of Joy’s primary collaborators were Inna Showalter and guitarist Anthony OBC, and in truth the only real consistency with Whitney’s Playland is to be found in Showalter’s vocals, which once again provide a earthy centre to the album and are breathtaking in their delivery. There is love, pain and mystery in abundance, and whilst this isn’t the perfect sun-kissed indie that Whitney’s excel at, it is every bit as captivating.
Is it hyperbolic to call this album a full on psych-rock masterpiece? Who knows, but to me right now that is exactly what it is. The opening one/two punch of Inside Out/Be Free is relentless in its power. The melodies twist and turn around fiercely atmospheric guitar lines and a rhythm section that snaps like elastic. Think Mad Jack era Chameleons and you’re kind of in the ballpark.
Let The People Ride is the longest track and serves as the album’s centrepiece. It’s first half keeps up the pace and power of that opening salvo, before giving way to gentle waves of arpeggios and moonlit wonder, a hint of what awaits us when we flip the record.
The second side of this album takes that new found calm and runs with it. The guitars no longer need to growl and snap to make themselves heard, which subtly brings Showalters voice and words out into the light. A different kind of power but every bit as devastating. Finally High serves as a hymn like introduction to what lies ahead, before Be Kind and 22 carry us gently in the purest of psych-pop arms.
Those arms leave us at the feet of Stranger, which has to go down as one of the great album closers of recent times. It rises and falls, builds and breaks, and through it all Showalter holds steady and delivers line after beautiful line, attempting to forge a connection in spite of everything, with us right there at her side, feeling every word.
With every single riff, drum fill and melody that bursts from the speakers you can hear the birth of the San Francisco underground as we currently know it. I’m not sure if there will ever be another Blades Of Joy album, and I’m not sure how you would even begin following up a record like this. So here we are, left for now with this one pretty much perfect broadcast to the world. Are you ready to tune in?
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