2010
Grizzly Bear, The Sage, Gateshead
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Hall One at The Sage, Gateshead, is a pretty enough venue, but it’s also pretty sterile. While the acoustics may be the finest in Europe, the atmosphere generally has a gaping hole in it. Sitting down at concerts equates to polite applause and a lack of spark. Grizzly Bear may have just been spared this fate by the inclusion of a small standing crowd, craning their necks towards the stage.
Someone needs to show the stuffy Sage how to put on a pop concert – usually all seated; no drinks in the hall; wait for a ‘suitable break’ in the performance before being allowed back in the hall. When Grizzly Bear’s Chris Taylor pulls out an old analogue radio to add the sound of radio distortion to the mix, it’s a wonder that a member of the Sage staff hadn’t already tuned it into Radio 3. Which is a huge shame because it could easily be the perfect place to see a band, especially one as sonically potent as Grizzly Bear. One can only begin to imagine what My Bloody Valentine might be able to achieve here.
It’s possible to view Grizzly Bear as an exercise in artistry. True, their songs are unusually crafted with sections which owe more to modern jazz than traditional rock in their construction but the presence of Rossen, who also writes and performs with the Department of Eagles, appears to rein in Droste’s more avant garde urges.
Tonight, Grizzly Bear put the Sage’s famous acoustics through their paces by piecing together an incredibly complex layering of sounds. Daniel Rossen’s crisp, staccato guitar; Ed Droste’s chiming Omnichord and Christopher Bear’s expansive drumming form the backbone while bassist Chris Taylor frantically scrabbles around the floor looping and adding effects to clarinet, flute and baritone saxophone.
It works like a dream; their habit of swelling their sound to a crescendo before stripping everything back to the very barest of bones bringing an ebb and flow the music. Harmony always essential, melody integral to even their most pulsating, noisy moments. Now let us have a beer while we watch them.





Even with a sore throat, James de Malplaquet sings like Ella Fitzgerald. Hoarse and whispery in conversation between songs, The Miserable Rich singer’s voice never once falters while in full flight during this, the opening night of their current tour.
Simplicity is the key to success at the moment for First Aid Kit. On the face of it, there’s nothing especially remarkable on show here. Sisters Klara and Johanna Söderberg play a very straightforward folk music – simple melodies; glorious harmonies, it’s comfortingly familiar stuff. And yet, there’s something of an air of greatness about them.
They are never going to tear the roof off a place or whip anyone up into a frenzy – the secret to success with Beach House is to submit to them. Hand over your senses for an hour and let them do what they will with them. Once you do, it feels like that split-second between normality and oblivion when you have just been given a general anaesthetic. About number 7 when they ask you to count down from 10. The precise moment when the room turns swimmy like the beginning of a dream sequence in a film.

The Westgarth Social Club in Middlesbrough may be an unlikely setting but it’s building an impressive reputation for being one step ahead of the game. So far in 2009 promotors, The Kids Are Solid Gold, have brought, amongst others, Canadians Woodpigeon, American whispering folksters Horse Feathers and probably most impressively, The Leisure Society who packed the venue out just weeks before landing an Ivor Novello nomination. Tonight the joint headline tour of First Aid Kit and Fanfarlo are at the venue. It is what is says it is on the label – a social club function room – but once the lights go down its as intimate a venue as you would want and a place where bands seem to love to play, with many citing their shows at the Westgarth as tour highlights. It is, in its own way, similar to the Band Room in North Yorkshire, only without the breathtaking scenery outside and having the advantage of having an inside toilet and a good pint of beer on tap.
First Aid Kit specialise in folky harmonising with a distinct Swedish accent, which isn’t surprising as they are from Sweden. They are also sisters and impossibly young to be producing music as well written and performed as this. A mixture of wistfulness and dry wit, their songs are melancholic without being overbearing. Most of their excellent Drunken Trees mini album gets an airing including their cover of Fleet Foxes Tiger Mountain Peasant Song. It’s a huge gamble and it pays off because their voices are strong enough to carry off both the harmonies and the soaring solo impeccably. They are a band that will only get better.
It’s in the middle of nowhere and difficult to find. It’s ridiculously small, only 100 people can squeeze inside. There are no acoustic elements to its design – it is a wooden hut. The stage is so tiny that some members of the band are unable to access it from the dressing room and have to clamber up from the audience side. There’s no bar and the toilets are outside. The seats are uncomfortable. The Band Room is easily the best venue I have ever been to.
It’s all too easy to dismiss Woodpigeon as wistful, romantic folkies (not that there’s anything wrong with that and singer Mark Hamilton’s opening solo set is equal parts wistful, romantic and folky) but tonight’s line up shows off their more muscular side with the songs bolstered by a full band and a sound which swells and rolls like the sea. Which is ideal as the centrepiece of the show is ‘And As The Ship Went Down You’d Never Looked Finer’, a song about drowning to death. It ends in a melee of looped vocals, distorted guitar, swirling keyboards and crashing cymbals. For five minutes or so, Woodpigeon are My Bloody Valentine. It’s their finest moment to date.


