Helen McCookerybook and David Lance Callahan at The Talleyrand, Levenshulme

I went to see Helen McCookerybook and David Lance Callahan play at the Talleyrand in Levenshulme last night as part of their UK tour. They'd played Newcastle on Friday night, where it was freezing apparently. 

The Talleyrand is friendly little pub on the A6, just opposite Levenshulme Antique Market. Up front it's a regular bar, and the gigs take place in the back room.

The small, friendly, intimate nature of the venue was perfect for Helen McCookerybook's brand of wry acoustic and semi acoustic observational songs. She began her set with 'A Bad Day', which pairs well with later track 'A good life with a bad apple'. There was also the "bit smutty" satire of 'At the bathing pond', the understated but soaring call to arms 'Women of the world', a two fingered salute to Mr Musk ('So Long Elon'), lockdown optimism in the small things 'Coffee and Hope' and the idiosyncratic 'Mad Bicycle Song'. She was on sparkling form, interacting well with the audience who warmed to her increasingly as the set went on. There was even a one woman version of The Chef's 'Let's Makeup', which went down well.

I wasn't sure about David Lance Callahan's first song, which was a slow, guitar only one. He was joined by a very charismatic drummer (sporting a pork pie hat and braces) for the rest of the set though, and I got into it more after that. In addition to the hat he also had an impressive selection of well deployed percussion instruments, and a style of playing that I really enjoyed watching.

I only have vague memories of Moonshake, David's previous band, in that I think they were in the process of splitting up around the time I first started listening to John Peel. The music he was playing last night did remind me of what Moonshake were doing though, in that there was a complexity of sound and a kind of brooding quality to a lot of it. At the same time, you could tell that he'd emerged from a band who appeared on the C86 compilation (The Wolfhounds). There was that post C86 jangly indie pop sound to some of the tracks, though he used these moments judiciously and sparingly, making the audience wait for them. 

I feel like David Lance Callahan and Helen McCookerybook both critique and satirise the mores of contemporary society, often highlighting deeply dystopian aspects, but in quite different ways. His songs feel darker, but hers are just as scathing. The difference is in the musical delivery: Sometimes you smile while sticking the knife in, sometimes you just stick the knife in.

Helen Reddington at Louder Than Words festival

Today I went to see Helen Reddington (neé McCookerybook) being interviewed by the excellent Roisin Dwyer about her new book, She's At The Controls, at Louder Than Words festival. She was on fine form: Articulate, intelligent, funny and self-depreciating. After the Q&A she played a few songs on her guitar ('A Good Life With A Bad Apple', 'Mad Bicycle Song' and one about Barcelona I'm not 100% sure of the title of), which seemed to go down well. It wasn't a huge crowd but, given that she was scheduled against a bloke from Dire Straits and his memoir, it was a respectable number of attendees and the audience seemed to be a nice variety of people who listened and asked intelligent questions. Helen was considerate enough to ask the audience to applaud Roisin and the sound engineer at the end too, which doesn't happen enough.

Normally I'd pay to attend all three days of Louder Than Words but the ticket price has gone up this year and my finances haven't sufficiently recovered from last year to take the hit. Similarly, I couldn't find enough events on the schedule that I wanted to attend to justify paying the ticket price. 

Last year Louder Than Words did go ahead, but as an online only event that attempted to make the best of things during the second Covid lockdown. I didn't attend because I was even poorer then than I am now, plus I doubted that the event would go ahead given that it was announced either just before or during the Greater Manchester local lockdown. 

It was odd being in Manchester for the first time in a year. I haven't needed to go into the city since last November when I was doing exam invigilation work for Manchester College and you forget how enclosed and claustrophobic the ever increasing density of really tall buildings makes you feel. We don't have that in Stockport because we have less tall buildings and those that we do have tend to be both shorter and more generously spaced, meaning the sky gets more of a chance and you don't feel hemmed in in the same way.

After Helen's event a gentleman called Darren from Bolton, who Helen knows through an online art club they both attend, and I adjourned with Helen to HOME next door where we had hot drinks and pizza and talked about music, art, Louder Than Words, work and lots of other things. It was nice though I do feel guilty that I didn't get a round of hot drinks in. 

It was a bit of a day for old friends actually as I'm sure I saw Pascale from Better Buses For Greater Manchester sitting outside Trove with a friend as I went past on the bus into Manchester. On the way home one of my sixth formers from last year said hello to me before heading for the back of the top deck where he proceeded to do the gangster thing with one of his mates.

I was a little apprehensive about travelling into Manchester on the 192 but, if anything, more people are wearing masks at weekends and keeping the bus windows open than they are during the rush hour to work in Stockport during the week. I suspect that weekend bus users may not be commuting to work by bus during the week whereas many weekday bus commuters have quite probably been commuting in large numbers into Stockport throughout all the lockdowns and have become fatalistic and nihilistic re Covid, hence over 90% of them not wearing masks on every bus I catch during the week.

Today was also a day for arsey bus drivers: There was the driver of the 201 outside Piccadilly train station, who shouted at the man who asked him if the bus was going to Stockport 'DOES IT SAY STOCKPORT ON THE FRONT OF THE BUS? NO IT SAYS HATTERSLEY!'. I think he must have felt guilty afterwards because when he had to re-open the door to let someone else on, he did at least shout that the hapless gentleman who'd made this mildly voice enquiry should be getting on the 203 though, in the end, he got on the 192 with me instead. The driver on that bus nearly missed my stop on the basis that he felt I was taking too long to come down the stairs, conveniently forgetting how close the bus stops are together on that part of the route and that it takes a finite amount of time to get from nearly the back of the top deck and down the stairs. I see that the recent pay rise after threat of strike action hasn't improved the temperament of Stagecoach Manchester drivers. Mind you, the driver shortage seems to be getting worse so I expect the remaining drivers are probably wishing they were on strike, increased pay offer or not.

Bat For Lashes - I Feel For You/Jasmine live Albert Hall, Manchester 24-...

This live footage of Bat For Lashes is taken from the Manchester date on last years tour of stripped down performances to promote the Lost Girls album. Accompanied by Laura Groves on keyboards, Natasha Khan turned in a spine tingling intimate performance. You can read my review of the gig over on Louder Than War.

While there are a number of films of full festival sets available on YouTube of Bat For Lashes, the most recent I could find are the 2016 sets from Glastonbury and Pitchfork Festival. I'm pretty sure I went with the Glastonbury set back in 2017 so, with that in mind, I'm linking this time to the Pitchfork festival set, which looks equally as good.

Town: On the anniversary of the Manchester Arena bombing

Given the role Tony Walsh's 'This is the place' played at the vigil on 23rd May 2017, it feels very apt that HOME would commission a series of spoken word pieces to mark the anniversary of the Arena bombing. HOME worked with Monkeywood Theatre last year to, in their words: 

Commission 19 astounding Mancunian writers to write 19 tiny but titanic new pieces that explore our city and its people.  

Eve Steele was one of those people. This is her ode to the city centre. 

One year on. We won’t forget. Our city stands strong. #McrTogether

Because the people who fill the city, because the city fills the people

"Because the people who fill the city, because the city fills the people" - Everything But The Girl, Five Fathoms

Billboard display opposite Manchester Apollo, the week after the Arena bomb

Everybody has a Manchester Arena story.

If you live within the fifty mile radius of the city of Manchester, grew up in it's clubs and venues, drank in it's pubs, staggered down it's dark and rainy streets... chances are you will have been touched by the events of 22nd May 2017.

Maybe not directly, but indirectly.

Even if you didn't lose a loved one in the attack itself, chances are you will know someone who went to the Ariana Grande concert, or know someone related to someone who went to the concert. Or you have a friend who went to a gig at the Arena mere days beforehand. Or a friend or family member who works for the emergency services.

Even if this isn't the case, you will have either gotten a worker bee tattoo to raise funds for the families of those killed, or you will know someone who got a worker bee tattoo. You will have seen the murals in the hipster end of town, and the one in the Arndale. You may, if you live in Stockport, or pass through the Heatons on a regular basis, have seen the Stockport worker bee. Similarly, the worker bees on buses, We heart Manchester digital displays on buses not in service, and the Spirit of Manchester tram.

Stockport worker bee

The marks are everywhere. Subtle maybe, and not necessarily obvious to visitors, but they are there.

Today, the first anniversary of the bombing, events are taking place in Manchester  and there will be a national one minute silence at 2:30pm.

Manchester Arena itself re-opened in September 2017, with a fundraising concert that featured Noel Gallagher and Blossoms, amongst others. 

My own Arena story is confined entirely to the night I saw Florence + The Machine headline there in September 2015. It was the first, and so far only, time I'd been to the Arena and I found the size of the place somewhat surreal. It felt cavernous, enormous, and weirdly reminiscent of St Pancras train station in London if it had been mated with the Arndale. That was the actual bit of the Arena where you go in and where you can buy non food kind of food and merchandise, not the actual bit where the concerts take place.

I remember watching Florence Welch gleefully legging it off stage, down the side of the standing section, and right up the other side of the Arena, where she sang part of 'Rabbit Heart (Raise it up)'. I remember how incredibly pleased I was that she made the audience stand up in the seated bits because I  was in the seated section and was dying to stand up but no one else was doing so I didn't feel I could without blocking someone's view.

I remember, after the gig, the slowly unfolding confusion of trying to get from the Arena to Piccadilly without getting lost. Of finding myself in some cordoned off bit of the city centre where extensive Metrolink works were taking place, somewhere near St Ann's Square, and of the relief when I and a steady stream of Arena goers finally located the top end of Market Street and we realised we were on the home stretch to the 192 stop.

That is my Arena memory.

Post Arena bombing tribute, left by Canadian tourist, Manchester, July 2017

Penetration - Don't Dictate

This performance of 'Don't Dictate' takes place at the Electric Circus in Manchester's Collyhurst district, and probably dates from 1976. It is the clip referred to by Liz Naylor during the punk women panel at Stoke Newington Literary Festival in 2016, in that it's definitely the right venue and Pauline Murray is clearly performing amidst a "tsuinami of gob" and, ooh, it looks grim.

Gobbing issues aside, this a great early punk live clip.

I first heard 'Don't Dictate' on one of those punk compilations that were released in the early 1990s' to cash in on the punk revival. A lot of the tracks on said compilations were dreadful, or not really punk, or the arse end of punk. So, not always that useful for those of us just discovering punk and trying to learn more about it. Sometimes though, if you persevered,  you could find some real gems amidst the crap. This was one of them.

As promised, Honeyblood live review!

As promised, I have reviewed Honeyblood's AMAZING gig at Gorilla in Manchester, just before Christmas.

It's now up on The F-Word

I had a lot of fun writing it, which is always good if it's a gig that was good fun as well.

The band are playing a couple more dates this month before finishing the tour so, if you're quick, you might be able to see them at Rockaway Beach Fest on 12 January (that's an indoor festival at Butlins, akin to All Tomorrow's Parties) or in London on 29 January at Bush Hall.

They are absolutely definitely worth seeing, and I was so pleased that they got such an enthusiastic crowd in Manchester this time.

Never Mind The Terrorists, We Are Manchester

This picture was taken tonight at 25 past 7, not 25 past 6: I haven't adjusted the time on my camera for British Summertime yet.

It is up on a fence around a building site on Stockport Road, directly facing Manchester Apollo.

This is the Place - poet Tony Walsh reads out his tribute to Manchester

Nancy Elizabeth's Dancing

Nancy Elizabeth is from Manchester and Dancing is her third album. It is, according to her website, the most stripped back and bare boned of her works. A self produced bedroom folk album at face value, a quiet masterpiece when you listen more closely.

Dancing has more in common with Stealing Sheep and Laura J Martin than it does with northern quarter toilet venues, and the overall feel of the album is pastoral rather than urban. We are talking fields, sheep, howling wind and rain. Given that it was recorded very much indoors, can this be read as a tribute to an inner world? A universe is being created by this atmospheric soundscape of an album. One that leaves you wanting more.

The album opens with ‘The Last Battle’, an eerie folk piece with an ethereal otherness that, throughout the album, becomes something of a trademark for Elizabeth. The vocals are clear, calm and commanding, holding the song together.

Second song ‘Heart’ begins with a delicate piano tinkling that suggests Florence + the Machine initially. It’s a pastoral piece, impressionist and complex. “For him, I remove, my very skin” it obliquely concludes. To add to the painting analogy, ‘Indelible Day’, an atmospheric piano led piece with almost fevered vocals is like a beautiful miniature portrait.

The electro distortion of ‘Mexico’ blends with a shimmering piano folk dance as mournful vocals move in and out of the distortion. Despite its discordant tone, this is oddly beautiful, very shamanic and soundtracky. It’s electro folk, but not as you would think of it, more as an experiment in sound.

Standout track and single ‘Simon Says Dance’ has a breathy, yearning quality to it. It is accomplished, taut piece, fully realised in structure and theme charting as it does years of dancing across the years of a relationship. There is a maturity here and it has the mark of a classic.

The simple piano of ‘Death in a sunny room’ is effective and wistful, whereas the strummed guitar of ‘Debt’ adds depth and menace to what feels like a particularly urgent song. I am reminded of Miranda Sex Garden (and it’s not often I can say that) possibly crossbred with Glasser. The result transcends folk and indeed genre; the way the piano dances hypnotically amongst the guitar and the burgeoning drums is particularly effective.

The aptly named ‘Shimmering Song’ features eerie vocals and electronic rhythms that drive the layers of sound and melody. If Glasser collaborated with Laura J Martin, it might sound like this.

The pure electro of ‘All Mouth’ appears to owe more to Laurie Anderson than to Laura J Martin, though the ghosts of the Radiophonic Workshop are also present for added weirdness. The overall result is like a warped lullaby for androids who dream of electric sheep.

The skittery rhythms of ‘Raven City’ evoke a bird it flight at times as the initial piano subtleties give way to a more dramatic run on the keys and pathos and poignancy, whereas ‘Desire’ begins with layered harmonies. A poignant, stripped down piece with a sorrowful piano, it is intimate and beautiful in its simplicity. The mediaeval maiden is alone in a bower but she has discovered Laura Nyro’s New York Tendaberry and all is well.

This established, it’s fitting to end with ‘Early Sleep’, a murmured stream of consciousness bubbling under metallic sounding samples. The randomness of drowsy dreams seems to be being invoked.

Sleep tight, Nancy Elizabeth.