with Ant Hill, Charlie Plews and Rebecca French
Reviewed by Thomas Needham
‘I usually play all the same pubs so it’s nice to play somewhere new’ spoke Rebecca French atop the large and versatile stage at The International Music Venue. I had admittedly never heard of the venue prior to the gig, the sparse audience that looked on reflected this, a shame considering the talent on offer (anyone would think Dum Language was headlining a birthday gig at The Big Difference). Nonetheless, as I wielded the world’s most expensive bottle of Newcastle Brown, I kicked back for the night as French gave an intimate, candid acoustic performance. Her cursive vocals supplement both her frank lyricism and a forthright attitude when it comes to exposing her own psyche, insecurities and doubts.
For a gig that guitar groups would soon dominate, French was a well-appreciated calm before the storm for me, well- until she did an acoustic cover of Oasis’ ‘Supersonic’ – it seems I cannot escape them no matter where I go. As she said herself, she knows ‘[she’s] really not the person [for covers]’ and I believe her strengths as an artist lie not in campfire covers of popular music but by embracing her own brand of chamber/twee folk. However, some songs carry similar melodies and picking that make it hard to appreciate each track as its own entity. Even tracks that use chords like All the Time have strumming that has the same ‘rhythm’ of its preceding songs. This is not to say they’re without merit; French’s soft, almost melancholic, vocal style makes moments when she asserts more power all the more impactful, easily complimenting her lyrics.
Wish She Was Me, while perhaps her most conventional song, was also the most complete musically and perhaps the highlight of her set. A catchy break-up song, lamenting a love who has moved on, the lyrics ‘put the pain onto the page / guess the writing fuels the rage’ neatly (and conveniently for me) surmise the themes of her work best. Some may find them cliche or cringe but in a world where people have to hide behind endless layers of irony to avoid actually putting themselves out there, I respect its sincerity, it was a breath of fresh air. As the lyrics to See You in Time (my personal favourite song of hers) go; ‘you should go / don’t look back / have the most fun you’ll ever have’.
When Charlie Plews and his backing band opened with the ‘heaviest’ sound I’ve heard since ‘Straight for the Sun’ I couldn’t have predicted the alt-pop/rock twist that was to come. Plews was met with a tough crowd off-the-bat when his attempt at inciting a call and response from the audience fell on deaf ears. There’s a lesson to be learned from the incident; the heavy-alt group had been performing for under 4-minutes after the quiet, contemplative Rebecca French, the audience was too sparse to account for any potential embarrassment and largely the group had yet to build the necessary rapport with the audience to successfully pull-off such a risky manoeuvre – his second plea for people to “join in” was too awkwardly ignored. The result, while cringe-worthy, was taken in Plews’ stride, it largely didn’t appear to affect the frontman as he threw himself into his recent single FALLING4U. Only Prince can have the audacity to use iconography, abbreviations and numbers in place of words and get away with it but I’ll give Plews a pass.
Plews is a largely capable vocalist, who sometimes struggles with his material. Singing from his throat lends him a high vocal register that struggles to match the heaviness of his opening tracks – he seemed much more comfortable adorning his acoustic guitar, delivering softer ballads with a setlist filled to capacity with love songs. Flamingo hats and unicorn spectacles aside, the band seemed to lack definition, as if still trying to find their sound and place in the big-wide music world. Plews invited those who missed out on Taylor Swift’s ‘Eras Tour’ to indulge his ‘Errors Tour’, I’m more of a Katy Perry man myself but the proceeding cover of You Belong With Me was somewhat of a turning point.
The crisis of identities between heavy alt-rock and soft-pop ballads that plagued the first half of the act somewhat subsided as Plews came into a sound he was more in-tune to. By the penultimate track, Locked Away I was convinced that the band had serious potential and were each adept at their own role when given the space to thrive with a bouncier power-pop sound, regardless of Plews’ vocals struggling to hit quite the same standard.
The more this new outfit plays, the more they’ll be able to find their niche. Perhaps something along the lines of Wheatus and other early-2000s groups that grappled with a similar sound and lyrical themes. There’s plenty to work with as they go forward, with Owen on guitar and Alex on bass, drummer Matt was a particular highlight, in a world of his own he brought a heavy and gloriously indulgent propulsion to the set. Overall, I certainly don’t want to make mountains out of Ant Hills (ba-dum tsk); it may not have been up my alley but I wish him success in future. If you’re looking for easy listening I reckon Charlie Plews is someone to look out for in future.
Post-rock group, Ant Hill, was the third and final support act for the night. They may not have the catchiest songs or the most proficient vocals but there’s something about them that just works. Imagine Fontaines DC with less emphasis on the Irish-folk, replacing it with a grungy disregard, all utterly smothered in reverb. Songs like Madeline have a gothic-rock influence akin to ‘Siouxsie and the Banshees’ while Comedown (Another Name) leans into a more conventional Nirvana-like style. Bassist Adam Olinkski was given spotlight on Arachnid, especially during his boss solo – the band’s confidence in him to perform with nothing but vocals, gave the following frantic chorus a heightened sense of dramatic weight.
Ant Hill not only knows how to structure a song with finesse – they know how to milk it of all of its potential – showmanship at its finest.
The penultimate track of their set, Pedestrian, is both my favourite song of the entire gig and a great example of this. While I was admittedly sceptical of frontman Jack Weale’s vocals, by this point I knew I had been proven wrong and then some. His powerful refrains were complimented by Sam Adair’s stentorian, proficient drumming, hurtling the song towards a cathartic emotional climax supplemented by the best guitar solo of the night, courtesy of Lenny Allot. The Bottle capped off the night (I’m on a roll today), while the song itself slightly undercut the impact of Pedestrian, the outro did enough to justify its inclusion – one final cacophony for the road.
For just a second, it seemed like the wheels were about to come flying off as the band struggled to find one another for the finale, their on-stage deliberations prompting us to exchange nervous glances. As Terry Burton (the man, the myth, the legend) relayed to me later, it was almost jazz-like. The tension was palpable; the audience searching for resolution, the band searching to end on a high note – it was enough for me to hang desperately onto every note, every crash, every beat until it all finally coalesced into a relentlessly accelerating, raucous and cathartic finish.
As they ushered off stage for headliners ‘Plastic Circus’, I was admittedly sad to see them go after just six songs. I look forward with great anticipation for their upcoming sophomore single Kimbo Slice coming on the 31st January.
Plastic Circus’ debut single Eazy Rider, seems purposefully styled after the movie ‘Easy Rider’ and the onset of the ‘New Hollywood Renaissance’. In much the same way Hollywood studios were squirming to amend growing losses and decadence by granting creative freedom to young directors, the onset of the internet has fundamentally changed music forever.
I feel the need to clarify a view I made in my previous review about ‘Moonbase’ and guitar music generally before I go any further. You have the ability to discover virtually anything and everything all in your pocket if you have the personal agency to do so and so the pendulum has swung. Contemporary culture has become so fragmented and compartmentalised that I question the mass-appeal that guitar music has today. The age of streaming and the internet is so decentralised and oversaturated that everyone thinks they have ‘it’ but very few truly do. This goes for all art; music, writing, filmmaking, etc. – the hill you must climb today to attain global mega stardom (ala.’Oasis’) is all but insurmountable. The best you can do is keep performing, preaching and showcasing to empty audiences – be your own biggest critic as you continue to work like hell without recognition or reward if you’re insane, brave or narcissistic enough to keep up this impossible task.
For guitar bands specifically; Britpop is dead, has been since Oasis killed it with the utter slog that is Be Here Now and guitar-driven indie music has been all but quashed under the totemic weight of rap and hip-hop. Gorillaz has been more successful than Blur for good reason and I don’t see that changing anytime soon, their collaborative, electronic sound simply aligns more closely with the popular zeitgeist today. The ‘playlist-ification’ of music, the over-consumption of trends and media and its effect on attention spans, ‘stuck culture’ where the titans of yesteryear quash any insurgent, contemporary artists, the increasingly unviability of the touring circuit in Britain, the pittances small artists are paid by streaming services, the rise of niche-micro-fandoms/genres and the transformation of consumers into ‘creators’ through AI all warrant their own essays for another day but they all add to my point.
It is absolutely imperative today that you do not let nostalgia for the heady-days of the 90s cloud the need for innovation. Simply enjoy the process and do what you do for yourself.
While Rebecca French sought to expose a part of her own psyche, Plastic Circus, instead, paints with broad, ambitious strokes. Who is this red man? Why is he meeting me in my soul? I don’t think it really matters, frankly I’d go so far as to say I like what some may call their nonsensical ambiguity. Bold, loud and energetic for better or worse they disregard intimacy, angst and nuance. They may play it safe lyrically and thematically but sound and spectacle is the name of the game. If The Stone Roses instrumentals were a band, Plastic Circus would be it.
After a slow start, lulling the audience in with a fairly unmemorable opening track that seemed to reach for something just beyond its grasp, the familiar opening riff to Eazy Rider began to blare. Suddenly the room came alive and Plastic Circus came into their element. Bassist Dylan Kane, uses the full breadth of the stage to his advantage – imagine a particularly large daddy-long legs jiving incessantly up and down your window. Kane’s complimenting harmonies uplifting guitarist Dan Hazell’s lead vocals (especially on their second single ‘No Way, No How’) who taps his foot along to the driving rhythm of the music, almost impatient, as if their sound feels restricted by the circumstance of their size and the state of contemporary music. Perhaps better suited to a sold out stadium as a support for The Last Shadow Puppets than a sparse venue in little old Leicester.
As their third song, and teaser for their upcoming EP Circus Freaks set for release on 6th March pleads; ‘someone let me out of here.’
The trio compliment one-another greatly, they’ve evidently been around the block and you can be self-assured that they know what they’re doing. Kane is one of, if not the best bassist, I’ve seen at a gig I’ve reviewed. My personal favourite track Wishing Well or Wish You Well (Max Miracle of ‘Leave Your Body Behind’ snaffled the setlist before I could get my grubby mits on it so I’m just covering my bases) has drummer Joe Heathcote, lay down a hypnotic high-hat groove in a song absolutely coated in reverb and a strutting bassline, not too dissimilar to that found on Emotional Rescue by The Rolling Stones (incredibly underrated song). Songs like Bad Decisions may well highlight just how solid of a drummer Joe is, however the song itself feels disjointed and clunky at times.
Part of me feels they’d benefit from another guitarist to truly fill out their sound and allow for a greater degree of live experimentation to ensure they’re always bringing something new to the table with each song beyond artsy guitar picking. Plastic Circus has their fan-pleasing stadium anthems and slower, funkier songs but they need a song that can truly blow the bloody doors off. They’re nearly there, they just need to step-out that little bit more. Play that encore – lord knows the only thing that would stop Liam Gallagher is if you threw a stinky, smelly fish on stage.
If the gig at The International was one thing, it was a showcase of one remarkable drummer after another; Matt, Sam and Joe each should know they are all elevating their respective acts. Despite being dominated by one guitar group after the next, Rebecca French derived some well-needed variety and Ant Hill did all in their power to eclipse headliners Plastic Circus. Charlie Plews with practice has the potential to go far and Plastic Circus are pushing onwards and upwards with the release of their upcoming EP. Each and every single artist on display has the potential, they just need to continue to hone their craft, to keep on reaching for the unthinkable.
As this is my last review for a bit, perhaps I’m just feeling sentimental and romantic but I want to leave this sentiment for any aspiring artists reading – despite the odds, never stop pushing yourself.
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