tim bowness / iamthemorning - bush hall, london 14 november 2016

A lovely venue for an evening of stunning music.

Tim Bowness was on first with Steve Bingham opening the set by looping some gorgeous violin to create the soundscapes for "Only Rain". It was a beautifully atmospheric way to start the show. By the time Tim had hopped up on stage to whisper "What can you say? ...no more fountains, only rain" I was already completely hooked. 

The rest of the band (Pete Morgan on bass, Andrew Booker and iamthemorning's Evan Carson on percussion, Stephen Bennett on keyboards and Professor Michael Bearpark on guitar) silently took their places ready to crash into a chunky "Time Travel In Texas". Tim laughingly called it their version of swamp rock. The double percussion worked surprisingly well when you consider that frequently Tim's music is so delicate. But in concert his songs often seem to gain a different sort of strength and pulse with life. Stephen Bennett moved to the grand piano for a tight version of "The Me I Knew" then iamthemorning's Gleb Kolyadin took his place on the piano stool for a lengthy and darkly brooding "Mixtaped". Never my favourite no-man song on record, but in concert this becomes something else entirely. A very powerful piece.  

Another song from Schoolyard Ghosts followed. In my opinion this is one of the most wonderful tracks Tim has ever written - "Wherever There Is Light". It's both devastatingly sad and stunningly beautiful at the same time and this performance was all that and much more. I had to wipe away tears by the end. Steve Bingham's violin work was gorgeous. A change of mood came about with a pounding blast of "The Warm Up Man Forever" showcasing Professor Bearpark's superb guitar skills and giving the two drummers plenty to do. Then the shortish set rounded off with another deeply atmospheric song, "Days Turn Into Years", on which Marjana Semkina accompanied Tim. The song dissolved into a terrific swirly conclusion as Tim sat on the stage giving out almost primal howls into the maelstrom of music around him. 

Tim Bowness so rarely plays live that it's always worth catching him when he does, and he never disappoints. The choice of songs tonight was excellent, the musicianship first rate. Once again I was struck by how versatile and accomplished is Bowness' band. It's such a shame they don't perform more often. The sound in Bush Hall was also excellent, clear and sharp allowing the quietest of whispers to be heard but giving a satisfyingly crunchy sound when needed. Bowness may not be the most relaxed of front men, but his reticent manner and self deprecating stage banter is always very appealing - never more so than when introducing the band. Apparently someone had earlier confused Pete Morgan with Porcupine Tree bassist Colin Edwin, so Tim ran around the band introducing them as alternative musicians (Bennett was Brian Eno, Booker became Gavin Harrison etc). Then he introduced them properly which ended up being just as funny - Bingham is such a star of the violin that Bowness claimed, with a wicked grin, that he makes his children call him Maestro!

The stage was reset slightly for iamthemorning - flowers around the mic stand, a few candles, that sort of thing. Then Marjana and Gleb took to the stage accompanied by a bass player, a violinist, a cellist and Evan the percussionist. They played a number of older iamthemorning tracks before launching into a selection of songs from their recent, award winning, album Lighthouse. Along the way Bowness returned to perform his own "Beautiful Songs You Should Know" with iamthemorning which was, for me, one of the absolute highlights of the evening. For an encore Tim and Marjana duetted once again, on a delightfully light and pretty "Sing To Me". Bowness rarely duets with anyone but this and the other vocal collaborations worked so well that I'd love to hear more in this vein.  

Iamthemorning are, perhaps surprisingly, a formidable live act. The delicacy of their records translated very well to the little stage and intimate surroundings of Bush Hall. I can't see their music working quite as well in a much larger hall however, as it's all the little touches that make it so lovely. You need to be able to see Marjana's expressions and tiny hand movements - it adds so much to the mood of the songs. Her gentle skipping and ability to almost float across the stage is bewitching, but would be lost in a much bigger venue. Musically they are incredibly strong - not only Marjana's enchanting voice, but the string players created so much colour and Joshua the bass player and Evan on percussion were vital too, anchoring the songs with depth. Gleb's virtuosity on the piano is actually breath-taking yet he seems extremely humble, sometimes looking into the audience with a faintly bemused smile, as if he couldn't quite believe all these people had come to see him play.

Marjana is a charming and engaging singer and front woman, her pale skin contrasting strongly with her vivid red hair. She was effortlessly cheery announcing, with a wide smile, how their songs are all about death and mental illness and things like houses burning down. And she was clearly thrilled by the enthusiasm the normally reserved English showed in joining in with the clapping on "5/4". Marjana was also encouraged by a highly supportive Russian contingent in the audience and the whole band was visibly delighted with the richly deserved standing ovation at the end of what I believe was their debut headlining a London gig. 

A thoroughly enjoyable two and half hours of superb music. A perfect evening! 

tim bowness & peter chilvers - post-its

I simply don't have the words, at the moment, to write in full about how Tim Bowness and Peter Chilvers' music is so very important to me. The wonderful reissue of their 2002 album California, Norfolk (in a superb two CD package together with the second album Overstrand), accounts for a very large proportion of my music listening time over the past couple of years. And their song "Post-Its" is the most played song on my iPod by quite some distance.

 

This is music that I keep returning to. And, although I find it easy to waffle on about other music I like, I find it incredibly hard to explain quite what Bowness and Chilvers' music does to me. But it's become a part of me over the past few years - I find it oddly comforting and reassuring in a way that a lot of music isn't. The sentiments expressed, the emotions contained within each song, they seem to speak to me on some incredibly deep level. The music is almost always absolutely gorgeous - Chilvers is apparently incapable of writing anything other than really pretty music, and his lightness of touch means that none of these songs become ponderous or heavy, despite the sometimes desperately sad subject matter. In his lyrics and singing, Tim Bowness somehow seems to be able to articulate my own feelings. Without really understanding how or why, these songs have become utterly vital to me.

 

I will try to get around to writing about these incredible records in more details one day, but for now I will try to understand a bit about the song "Post Its". 

 

California, Norfolk was first issued in 2002 and the following year the companion album Overstrand was released, which was mainly comprised of alternate versions of some of the California, Norfolk songs, plus reworkings of a few other Bowness / Chilvers tracks. Although I adore the original album it's the reworked songs that have become the ones I return to more than any others. The original version of "Post Its" has a charming, slightly lopsided rhythm track and generally brighter outlook. The Overstrand version is dominated by Chilvers's keyboard, an all encompassing organ swirl that spirals from speaker to speaker throughout the track. Gradually other instruments are filtered in - gentle piano, some bass notes, a snippet of the orchestral swells from the original, but mostly it's the organ. It gives the song a mood of regret, of longing, which fits the lyrics perfectly.

 

Tim Bowness' words fit the music perfectly too, both in the actual lyrics and in Tim's brilliantly performed vocals. His voice is warm, intimate, so beautifully recorded that it feels like he's right in front of you.

 

The song itself shifts between the beginning and the end of a relationship. The opening line "on a day not meant for smiling, you made me smile" is so delightful, you can actually feel the promise and hope and optimism. 

 

The second verse is stunningly good at sketching in the first feelings of love, when anything and everything is possible - it's all so innocently romantic and full of anticipation and desire.... "we spent a lifetime devising plans to spend the night, we spent a night-time devising plans to waste our lives..." 

 

But then... "we spent forever, just testing ways to twist the knife..."

Rather than the carefree couple happily wasting their lives together, the mood has soured, horribly, suddenly, shockingly and Tim's voice is weighed down with dejected hopelessness.

 

As a sudden slap in the face it's as dramatic and as effective as the change in Talk Talk's "I Don't Believe In You" - another song which charts the failure of a relationship. There's a stunningly harsh moment where Mark Hollis switches from the repeated refrain of "I don't believe you" to "I don't believe in you" which signifies the final end, the complete breakdown of trust.

 

The choruses of "Post Its" contain far more in the way of sadness and resigned hurt, rather than the muted anger that is momentarily raised in the "twist the knife" line. All that youthful expectation from earlier has been overtaken by disappointment and dejection. As with so many Tim Bowness lyrics he's again found a way of making the mundane and everyday come alive with feeling, charged with emotion and melancholy. Something as ordinary as post it notes stuck to the wall have charted the whole relationship and their removal marks the final end - "And the post-its on the wall, that have marked our rise and fall, come down..."

 

Is this the final end though? There is perhaps a glimmer of hope offered by the closing part of the song as the chorus lines are repeated and overlaid with the opening lines - "on a day not meant for smiling, you made me smile" - is this juxtaposition an indication that maybe a new love has been found? Or is it merely sorrow, wistfully mourning for the loss of something that began so promisingly but which has ended in grief.

 

Whatever, it's a beautiful song. Sad, yes, but not depressing or maudlin. And in every play I can hear something new. This really is some of the best music I have ever heard.

 

 

tim bowness - 26/08/15 boston music room

Just back from the excellent Tim Bowness gig at the Boston Music Room in Tufnell Park, London. Why Tim isn't appearing on much bigger stages I'll never know, because his songs are astonishing, the performances are powerful and heartfelt, and he really deserves to be better known. 

For the moment though I'm enjoying the low key gigs, the intimate surroundings and the feeling that Tim and his band are playing for me, just me. And this is key to understanding why I love seeing and hearing a Tim Bowness live performance. 

From the earliest days of no-man Tim's songs have had peculiarly personal quality about them. Regardless of the subject matter, I always get the same feeling from most of his songs, a feeling that the song is addressed directly to me, no-one else, just me. Which is why so many of Tim's songs simultaneously bring comfort and also sometimes tears. In concert that feeling is lessened, as I am surrounded by a couple of hundred other people, but not entirely gone. I was right at the front, just as I was last year at the Borderline, right underneath Tim's mic stand. A fantastic view of everything that happened on stage and close enough to almost forget that there was an audience behind me. A wonderful feeling. 

The evening opened with Colin Edwin creating some soundscapes on his shiny red bass as Andrew Booker gently shimmered the cymbals. As Mike Bearpark joined them on guitar, Booker's drumming gradually became more insistent, harder and wilder, until a ferocious groove had been created. This improvised piece, perhaps 15 minutes long, was the support act, and actually worked extremely well in setting the mood. 

A short break and the trio were back accompanied by Stephen Bennett on keyboards and 'some Tim bloke' as Edwin had mentioned earlier. They launched into "The Great Electric Teenage Dream' which was considerably more powerful and pounding than on record. Tim and Stephen were really screaming out the vocals at the end. Immediately there was the sense that this band were going to rock. Hard. And so they did. As if to emphasise their rock credentials Tim even leaped into the air at the song's conclusion - but immediately followed it with a self-deprecating 'that's what we call theatrics.' Keeping the momentum going with "The Warm Up Man Forever' and "Press Reset", the brutal second half of which was one of the many highlights of the night, the energy levels were at maximum. 

"Sing To Me" followed, one of my favourites from the new album Stupid Things That Mean The World. As with pretty much everything that was played tonight, this was another track which came across far more forcefully onstage. A stunning guitar solo from Professor Bearpark - in fact Mike's guitaring was terrific all night, switching from ambient cries to powerchords or squealing solos with ease. 

As well as tracks from Tim's two recent albums we were also treated to some no-man songs - "Time Travel In Texas", no longer the scratchy, shuffly track from Wild Opera but now a muscular, thumping and downright funky work out. Later in the set we had another Wild Opera song - "Housewives Hooked On Heroin" which had been thoroughly made over into a dark and dirty slice of rock. 

Before that though were a couple more from the new album - a lovely rendition of "Know That You Were Loved", although half the audience wasn't paying attention and started clapping as the coda began, which drew a mild telling off from Tim once the song had properly finished. And then the title track - the performance of which made me realise what a wonderfully catchy song it is, and if this world was a better place then "Stupid Things That Mean The World" would be a massive hit single. 

My absolute highlight of the night was the gorgeous "Dancing For You" - it's such a pretty song, such a melancholy song, such an emotional song - another brilliant solo from Mike, some beautiful keyboarding from Stephen, and Tim delivering a vocal that really got to me. Even if the rest of the show had been rubbish then I'd have been happy to have heard "Dancing For You". But the rest of the show was just as good. Another treat - "The Me I Knew" from My Hotel Year, Tim's first solo album - vastly different from the sparse original, now with complex percussion and bass, and a delightful keyboard intro. 

The main set ended with "Smiler At 50", dark and brooding, a real sense of aggression barely restrained, and as the apocalyptic coda began Tim jumped from the stage and nimbly ran through the audience as the monolithic slabs of noise poured from the stage behind him. 

How do you follow that? Well, they encored with the brilliant no-man track "All The Blue Changes". I love the way the song begins gently but insistently with Andrew Booker rapping out the rhythm, but over the course of the song everything rises in intensity, noise accumulating upon noise creating a maelstrom of music which I never want to end. 

And that was it - a cracking gig, a very appreciative audience and a band that absolutely delivered. It's such a shame that they don't play more shows. 

As I was leaving I was surprised to see Tim Bowness hanging around the merch table, so I was able to shake his hand and thank him both for the show, and for all the years of pleasure and comfort his music has given me. And will hopefully continue to do for many many years to come. 

peter chilvers / sandra o'neill

One of my most played albums of the past year or so has been Far Off Country.

Credited to Letka, this is basically the duo of Peter Chilvers and Sandra O'Neill, who've worked together for some years. Quite why the duo decided on the name Letka is something of a mystery, as it makes them sound as if they are an Eastern European pop star. They’ve previously collaborated on a couple of albums under the name of Alias Grace (which sounds like it ought to be a quietly pretentious 4AD band).

 

This stuff is sadly hard to find – and only seems to be available via the Burning Shed mail order company set up by Tim Bowness, Pete Morgan and Peter Chilvers - 

https://www.burningshed.com/ 

This is definitely the best label / record company in the world. Everything they release is well worth a listen.

 

Anyway, Far Off Country is just wonderful.

The whole album has a vaguely This Mortal Coil air about it – the fact that most of the songs are covers adds to this feeling - think of “My Father” or “Tarantula” from Filigree and Shadow and you’re sort of getting there. It's melancholy, but never sad, wistful not depressing. Country music classics like "Banks Of The Ohio" and "Country Roads" are stripped back to delicate keyboards and bare bones arrangements, but it's Sandra O'Neill's gorgeous voice that dominates. The purity and beauty of her vocals are simply stop-you-in-your-tracks astonishing. Interestingly, despite these classic American songs, the album really doesn't sound American at all. Yet somehow it still conjures up images of wide open plains, mountains, streams and deserts, but seen though a haze, half remembered, it has an almost dreamlike quality – it does indeed inhabit a Far Off Country – the title is absolutely apt. 

 

Letka's cover of "Not A Job" (originally by the resolutely un-American Elbow) is breathtaking. Chilvers' gently pulsing keyboards and O'Neill's stunning overlapping vocals make this arguably the highlight of the album.

The final track is a blissed out take on Gillian Welch’s “I Dream A Highway” which is astoundingly good. Long, dreamy, full of regret and longing. Brian Eno loved it so much that he suggested a whole new genre needed to be invented for it - Future Country. And Eno himself was involved on the gorgeous opening song “Beyond The Fold”. The lulling sway of the melody is very Enoid, the backing vocals are a gentle choir of multiple Brians and the mood is a bit like very relaxed “Spinning Away”. A truly brilliant song.

 

This is an album that has been played and replayed over and over and I love it more each time.

 

 

Alias Grace, Peter and Sandra's earlier collaboration, created two albums.

 

The first was Embers in 1998 and while it's simpler and less expansive than Far Off Country it is no less delightful. It's about as gentle an album as it's possible to be. Vaguely folky, sort of ambient pop, lovely piano work, gorgeously pure vocals, bitter sweet lyrics. It's a very pretty album, and I mean this in the most appreciative way.

 

I love all sorts of music - yesterday I listened to a cracking 1981 gig by Bauhaus which was harsh, snotty and angry - and I loved it. But I find an awful lot of modern music to be coarse and ugly. Most modern pop chunders along on a bed of lumpen beats and unimaginative synths; it's all the same, nothing terribly innovative, and it sounds just thrown together.

 

But this, Embers, by Alias Grace, has a genuine beauty about it. It's been carefully hand crafted and it's lovely, delicate, and very very pretty. And I love it. Clearly a lot of care has been taken in creating this music. The opening "Talk Simple" is a reworking of no-man's "Tulip" and it's wonderful. Over an insistent pulse Sandra O'Neill's vocals just soar. "I need somebody to hold my hand, I need somebody who understands" - can't argue with that! Other highlights include the terribly sad "Cry Sweet Child" which seems to outline the breakdown of a relationship in a manner that hits home in a very subtle way, there's a loneliness at the heart of this song which is terribly affecting. "Counting The Stars" is another favourite of mine, more upbeat with a lovely tumbling chorus. Chilvers piano playing, on this song, and on the whole album, is exemplary, perfectly framing the songs.

The second record, 2001's Storm Blue Evening, is basically more of the same, but with a few more instruments, and what sounds like a bigger production budget. It sounds like it might have been recorded in a studio rather than someone's house. These are albums made for the sheer love of it, not because they were going to have a hit or anything (though many of the songs are distinctly catchy and in a fairer world they really ought to be huge successes). One such is Storm Blue Evening's "Nightshift" which is a terrific piece, or perhaps the opening "Feel The Hush". 

 

But in reality I suppose these records are too good for the charts, too delightful, too delicate - simply beautiful songs, beautifully played and sung.

 

There is one more track that I need to mention - on a Burning Shed sampler you can find Alias Grace's cover of Kate Bush’s “Under The Ivy” which is just stunning and achieves the very rare feat of beating Kate Bush at her own game. This has always been one of my favourite Kate tracks, but hearing Sandra O'Neill sing it is actually even better. Heartbreakingly good.

 

I simply can't recommend this music highly enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

tim bowness / henry fool at the borderline 11/07/14

What a wonderful evening. 

The Borderline holds perhaps 175 people so it was always going to be an intimate gig, but I was lucky enough to grab a spot leaning on Mike Bearpark's monitor. Couldn't be any closer. 

Matt Stevens opened the proceedings with some truly inventive and entertaining guitar work. Strumming and picking furiously, looping what he's played, and then playing more and more lines over the top of the loops. Terrific stuff. He seemed to enjoy himself and the crowd certainly did. 

Two of Italy's nosound were up next ('the best two', laughed Giancarlo at one point). With just washes of keyboards and Paolo's gentle acoustic guitar (plus a couple of instances of blindingly liquid electric guitar solos from Giancarlo) the duo cherrypicked a good half a dozen tracks from the excellent nosound catalogue. Well worth watching.

Then it was time for what Tim later called a sort of Frankenstein band - Tim Bowness and Henry Fool Featuring Colin Edwin - not a name that easily trips off the tongue! The tiny stage had to cope with Colin's monster bass, Myke Clifford's sax and flutes, Mike Bearpark's guitar and effects, Stephen Bennett's two tiered keyboards and Andrew Booker's supremely shiny drum kit (bass drum adorned with Henry Fool artwork - 'that's the stage set' laughed Tim). It was a bit of a squash. Tim Bowness was something like the still centre of the storm. He would easily draw the audience's attention when he was singing, his voice strong and deeply affecting, but during the musical passages and instrumentals I felt he seemed almost to melt into the background, something I suspect he'd be rather pleased about.

They opened with the thunderous tribal drumming of "The Warm Up Man Forever". I can't remember the exact set list but a storming "Time Travel In Texas" was somewhere near the start, and also quite early on in the set was one of many highlights, "Smiler At 50", one of the best tracks on Tim's new album Abandoned Dancehall Dreams and one of the very best songs I've heard in ages. The coda was immense, apocalyptic and extraordinary. The first Henry Fool album contained a song called "Judy's On The Brink" which was played tonight with the words altered to make it a prequel to the Smiler tracks. 'See how much more misery we can inflict on her', explained Tim. The band played a couple of superb pseudo jazz/rock pieces ('the Brand X revival starts here!') as well as a very unexpected and rocking "Housewives Hooked On Heroin" which Tim laughingly called the least loved No-Man song. Not tonight it wasn't!

For my money the best song of the evening was the gorgeous "Dancing For You" with a stunning guitar solo from Dr Bearpark, and some wonderful squally keyboards from Stephen Bennett. Throughout the gig Myke Clifford's sax and flutes frequently assisted where backing vocals would have been on the record and he did so here. "Dancing For You" is one of the prettiest saddest songs I've ever heard and this live version was just as good as I'd hoped it would be. 

"Mixtaped" closed the main set. Never my favourite No-Man song, but it seemed to work far better in a live setting being both broodingly intense and surprisingly loose and free. For an encore we had a blast through "Poppy Q" and the show ended with a beautiful "Songs Of Distant Summers", complete with an extended percussive coda. It was the perfect conclusion. 

Considering that some in the band have full time jobs (at some of the best Universities in the country!) they are a solidly coherent unit. But they've been playing together on and off for 25 years or so, so perhaps it's no surprise really. It's a shame, though, that they don't perform more in public as they are such a good band, with inventive, musical explorations, and superbly sensitive emotional backings for Tim Bowness' superb sensitive emotional songs.

All in all, a wonderful performance. More please!