SIGUR ROS, WESTMINSTER CENTRAL HALL

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Icelandic musical alchemists Sigur Ros hit the capital on the back of their long awaited new album ‘Meo Suo í Eyrum Vio Spilum Endalaust’ for one night only at the Central Hall in Westminster, just metres from the seat of government.

These fey thirty-somethings carry an air of excitement and expectation with them wherever they go and tonight's crowd are not disappointed.

There were five vast glowing orbs at the back of the Central Hall and a stage full of instruments in the middle. While the venue filled up, singer-songwriter (and trombonist in Sigur Ros) Helgi Jonsson took to the stage and strummed a few mediocre numbers with a fey frame and shy eyes, the best song being the penultimate one Dry Run taken from his Aska EP.

The lights dropped and the four lithe Skandinavian figures of Sigur Ros strode onto the stage – drummer Orri sporting a novelty crown and frontman Jonsi, a black tuxedo jacket with red-piping and tassles.

They opened with 'Svefn-G-Englar' - the first (real) song from their second album Agaetis Byrjun – and the crowd was rapt, Jonsi’s vocals soaring through the space effortlessly.

For the second song they were joined on stage by a strong quartet of Icelandic maidens, and then, as the music inevitable climbed, out walked a marching brass band, all dressed in pure white band uniforms.

Before Gigwise had rubbed our eyes they were gone again. The brass band returned a couple of songs later, just in time for ‘that one from the advert’ (Hoppipolla) during which they let loose tubes of ticker tape into the audience to up the epic ante.

Jonsi, Georg, Orri and Kjartan switched instruments effortlessly throughout the gig Jonsi seeming happiest when he was bowing his guitar, and creating the volcanic climaxes they are so famous for.

Before long they had played 14 indecipherabley named songs and decided to get the crowd involved, “We want you to clap” said Jonsi, and clap we did as the whole ensemble took to the stage beating drums, singing ‘las’ and tonking xylophones. Two giant electric fans launched streams of ticker tape into the vast Central Hall, not stopping until the air was full of music AND paper.

After the finale the crowd whooped and hollered so that they couldn’t not come back. They did, and played two more glorious songs before leaving again. The crowd, though tired and emotionally drained after two hours of beauty, continued to whoop and holler.

They came back on again to play one last beautiful, soaring song, before throwing their arms round each other, bowing a low bow and leaving once more.

LACKTHEREOF - YOUR ANCHOR

Lackthereof is Danny Seim, drummer in Portland, Oregon’s indie starlets Menomena. It’s a different listening experience when you pick up a solo album by a supporting member of a band you know and like - different to a straight up album that is. And if you’ve only ‘heard of’ that band; there’s still a certain stigma attached. Even if you’ve never heard or ‘heard of’ that band, knowing they exist can send you wondering what they might be like. Of course you might not care to find out. But that’s your call.

But Lackthereof predate Menomena, and so it is in fact Menomena that is the side-project. Hell, Seim has released 8 previous Lackthereof albums dating back as far as 1998 (the first six of which were home recordings, but still, 8!).

 

Seim plays everything you hear on Your Anchor, which is no mean feat: there’s a lot going on here. He sings too, in a sort of Aidan Moffat of Scotch-indie miserablist marvels Arab Strap drawl, but with a more nasal American twang. He harmonises himself as well which lends the album a very 3 Eps era Beta Band flavour – vocal mantras build and fall without ‘kicking off’ or ‘rocking out’. 

 

Your Anchor could easily be a full band’s album, and to play it live Seim would have to employ the services of some other musicians - if only he had two friends who thought in a similar way and could play instruments as well as he can… wait!? This could very well be Menomena. Sure it’s less playful, the voice is less varied – it is all the same one you know – and some of the avenues explored veer from the Menomena course. Ask Permission has a sweetly understated beatbox set over slide guitar and basslines that would have Stuart Braithwaite of Mogwai nodding his approval.

 

But too much has been made of the Menomena connection. Your Anchor is a controlled and beautiful record, shot through with knowing confidence. It is carefully organised to guide you emotionally through the album like when the echoed chanting of Choir Practice builds to the albums most up beat moment and is then followed by the aforementioned lull of Ask Permission. Seim even chooses to end with a stark cover of The National’s Fake Empire.

 

It’s the project’s most high profile release to date gaining US release on Barsuk whose other artists include… err… Menomena. At this rate it won’t be long before he is calling those two friends to help him get on stage… or maybe just Geddy Lee!

SANTOGOLD - ALBUM REVIEW


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Santi White AKA Santogold is all over it. She is in all the right magazines, on all the right websites, on the lips of all the right people, doing tunes with all right cats and getting all the right cats to do over her tunes – she is all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s just dropped one of the most pole-position pop records of the new millennium Gigwise just might have something to say on that, but she has, so we’ll back up.

Ms. White’s much documented history reads like a music A-Z. She came up in Philly before heading off to study Music at college in Connecticut. She then stumbled comfortably into an A & R role at Epic Records, the home of rock behemoth REO Speedwagon (who will have no further relevance to this article).

Bored with that she decided to write and produce, picking up the debut album of little known R&B artist Shareese Renee Ballard AKA Res. Still not content to sit still Santi then turned her tongue to punk-rock, fronting Philly-band Stiffed who released a couple of albums before she was picked up to… ‘go solo’.

A few singles, a typhoon of good press and some tidy timing brings us to now, and to this album: self-titled and all. Santi is keen to shout down anyone looking to drop an R&B tag next to her name, fair enough, this isn’t R&B.

Santogold (the album) is a hell of a lot of different things – from the grimy reggae bounce of Unstoppable to the bouncy reggae grime of Shove It: “We think you’re a joke, shove your hope where it don’t shine” – but they all shine together. You may know the singles – Strokes-esque album-opener LES Artistes and the squeal laden mash-up Creator have graced our ears from the small screen on beer and hair adverts for a while now.

Perhaps this is Santi’s commercial knowse coming through, or maybe she just wants to get the tunes out there. Despite getting them out there, and with much more gay abandon than her stablemates, she is still bathed in credibility by the alt news sheets.

This brings us back to those damn fine tunes again. Those pimped out singles make way on the album for a good breadth of coverage. I’m A Lady sounds like The Pixies fronted by a girl, but doesn’t sound like the Breeders – and it lives up to that canon brilliantly. Say A-Ha on the other hand, sounds like it could be Girls Aloud if Nicola had a gruff sister.

There is not a song under four minutes here, and not a filler in sight, just like pop should be. Well done Santi, well done.