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Stradhoughton Echo : A four piece band, mostly instrumental. They made ample use of various gadgets and noisemakers, such as slide whistles, "wood" (plastic, really) blocks, rattles, thumb pianos through delay pedals, and E-bows. Frequently the 2nd guitarist and the drummer would switch, and the drummer did all the singing. The instrumental songs sounded a bit like a more spastic Tortoise, but...not. The songs with vocals were a little more emo, a little less jazzy. I expect good things from these folks.
Songs: Ohia: Speaking of emo... This is actually only one person, he apparently had the biggest following of any performer this evening. He caused the biggest backup at the merch table, anyway. His voice was evocative of Bruce Cockburn, or maybe Nick Drake in spots. I sat through two songs before going down the street to the Galway Arms for a beer.
Shannon Wright: I think Ms. Wright should be made to duel with Kazu Makino from Blonde Redhead in a booty-shake-with-guitar contest. The dark Georgia peach, accompanied by only a drummer, a solitary red light bulb, and a blurry slideshow of random images, ran through a set consisting mainly of songs from Maps Of Tacit and Dyed In The Wool, her last two records. She strutted and stomped all over the stage, abusing her guitar and electric piano, and punishing the microphone with her voice, alternately a mumble and a glass-shattering wail. When she and the drummer locked in, they threatened to explode and destroy the stage. She ended her set by thanking the audience for coming out on such a dreary night, and that the weather suited her mood.
I spoke with Shannon a little bit after the set. I asked her about the Perishable Goods EP, a limited edition CD I reviewed for KEXPa while ago that included a slowcore version of the Bee Gee's "I Started A Joke" (with Alan Sparhawk of Low). She told me to try her website or Touch & Go. Turns out she hand stamped the covers of all 2000 CDs. Jeez. She seems like a very kind, quiet person, not at all like the furious banshee she becomes on stage. I came away with an album by her old band Crowsdell, which is signifigantly more accessible - poppy, dare I say? Well, compared to her more recent material, yes.
In closing, a quote:
Songs: Ohia: Speaking of emo... This is actually only one person, he apparently had the biggest following of any performer this evening. He caused the biggest backup at the merch table, anyway. His voice was evocative of Bruce Cockburn, or maybe Nick Drake in spots. I sat through two songs before going down the street to the Galway Arms for a beer.
Shannon Wright: I think Ms. Wright should be made to duel with Kazu Makino from Blonde Redhead in a booty-shake-with-guitar contest. The dark Georgia peach, accompanied by only a drummer, a solitary red light bulb, and a blurry slideshow of random images, ran through a set consisting mainly of songs from Maps Of Tacit and Dyed In The Wool, her last two records. She strutted and stomped all over the stage, abusing her guitar and electric piano, and punishing the microphone with her voice, alternately a mumble and a glass-shattering wail. When she and the drummer locked in, they threatened to explode and destroy the stage. She ended her set by thanking the audience for coming out on such a dreary night, and that the weather suited her mood.
I spoke with Shannon a little bit after the set. I asked her about the Perishable Goods EP, a limited edition CD I reviewed for KEXPa while ago that included a slowcore version of the Bee Gee's "I Started A Joke" (with Alan Sparhawk of Low). She told me to try her website or Touch & Go. Turns out she hand stamped the covers of all 2000 CDs. Jeez. She seems like a very kind, quiet person, not at all like the furious banshee she becomes on stage. I came away with an album by her old band Crowsdell, which is signifigantly more accessible - poppy, dare I say? Well, compared to her more recent material, yes.
In closing, a quote:
[Shannon Wright's] records are phenominal. I haven't the slightest fucking idea what she's saying in any of them. I think it's English in the sense that her words are English words, but what her message is? Who the fuck knows. But that doesn't soften the impact of her music to me at all. In fact, it doesn't even enter into it.- Steve Albini, Punk Planet #45
