Tag Archives: Iliop

Lichens @ Sneaky Pete’s

Last night, Dauphin was lucky enough to witness a close-knit gig at Sneaky Pete’s on Cowgate, hosted by Powan Presents. The Douglas Firs, along with Iliop and Wounded Knee (who I’ll be taking a closer look at in tomorrow’s post, keep your finger hovering over the F5 button) supported NYC native Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe – also known as Lichens#mce_temp_url#.

Iliop played a great set – his opening salvo was tighter and more efficient than last Monday’s outing at Roxy Art House, yet the rawness and static energy he so captured the crowd with was still present. The Douglas Firs were again impressive, racing through another flawlessly executed set – and Wounded Knee were a revelatory find. I’ll be honest, I’m not writing much here because I feel the fact I missed most of the first song due to a run to the cash machine/the gents makes such a review illegitimate; but hey, it’s a blog and I never promised efficiency. They’ll get a post all to themself tomorrow.

Onto Lichens. Prior to the show starting, I chatted to Robert over beers – he’s amiable, modest and wears an excellent bow tie with a fine, Frederick Engels-esque beard. He’s polite and unassuming and would get on rather well with anybody. While he’s preparing to go on stage, I talked to the promoter, Steve, who tells me that the music is like “a shaman… it’s indescribable, incomparable…”

Shamanic is an apt word; seeing Lichens live is closer to a spiritual experience than a passive show. His entire set is a single song and it’s one of the weirdest, most beautiful songs I think I’ll ever hear.  For the twenty minutes he plays, it’s like he is in control of the laws of physics, such is the pull of the sounds that radiate from the speakers. Lowe’s eyes roll back, catatonic and possessed; he’s like the man at the centre of the earth, always moving, arms constantly attending to the next button and lever, always consumed by the music. His voice is haunting, yet deeply moving – ambient and potent with alien electricity. Words seem too clumsy a medium to describe such an esoteric, abstract concept as Lichens’ music; it’s sanity-warping, magnetic, spellbinding. The projection behind him, a result of a collaboration with an animation artist in New York, revolves with surreal colour and seems to react to the changes in the music, it’s like being in the eye of an audio storm.

It says on his website that he creates his music “by means of mutated wordless vocal loops and the layering of fingerpicked acoustic and hypnotic electric guitars, Lowe creates densely atmospheric pieces that blur the boundaries between heavy drone, minimalist and American primitivist artists”. Forget genre names, this defies labelling. So much that I’ve invented a new genre name to describe  it (if only for the neatness of my iTunes library): Anti-matter.

You need to see this live because it’s the only place I know of where  you can buy his CD’s, but also because “each Lichens show is entirely improvised and unfolds with a sense of evolution and natural process. Lichens exists in it’s current surroundings, allowing Lowe to act as shaman enrapturing listeners and ultimately opening door” – and after experiencing one, I believe it. It’s like whalesong, or swan song – it sounds like being inside the womb, or a pulsar weeping. It sounds like time ending. I’m thoroughly confused.

Rating: Lichens DDDDD, Douglas Firs DDDD, Iliop DDD, Wounded Knee DDD

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eagleowl @ Roxy Art House

Tonight, eagleowl are headlining a five-band setup in aid of the Pakistan Flood Relief campaign at Roxy Art House, that crumbling, tumbledown venue tucked away in the shadows of the Old Town. They’re joined by Iliop, The Douglas Firs, Alistair Roberts and The Wee Rogue, and once again the little basement room is packed to the brim.

First on is Iliop – the alias for one-man experimental electronic act Pete McConville who, at first sounding nervous and lonely on stage, thaws the audience into rapture. His music is evocative and weird, and conjurs  abstract images like those of motorways where the cars are nought but streams of light; it’s not long before you’re lost in the siren-song of the ghostly audio he’s beaming out into the room. McConville never stops moving – setting up the next loop to come in at the right moment or fiddling with the wires laid around his feet; the detritus of soundchecks – guitar cables, pint glasses and instrument cases. It’s a crowded stage for one man, but he manages to make the air vibrate with some sort of cosmic, digital energy.

Moving on, the Douglas Firs step up and make their mark on the night. I’ve seen them before and every time I listen to them, they grow on me. Tonight they’re like a sudden July storm that’s been brewing for days and then the lightening is upon you with three guitars each throwing thunderclap punches; each new track washes over your mind like a crashing wave on the beach and you’re caught in its chaos theory curl. They play a couple of songs from ethereal The Haunting EP and a few others, and then they are gone – as sudden as the first explosive chords, they fade and their beautiful haunting power has passed; skies are clear for the next act.

The Wee Rogue – or Jamie, as he introduces himself – slithers onto stage like he doesn’t want to be seen by the crowd but what appears to be initial unconfidence soon becomes an asset. His songs are heartfelt and delicate and sparing; the lyrics more alike to slam poetry than a folk ballad, and his cute Scots tilt adds another flavour to the well-crafted, bespoke songs he threads with his modest acoustic guitar melodies. Neither poppy nor new-folk, Jamie O’Connor is indeed a little rogue – he sings with a silken intimacy, careful longhand in his songs reveal a subtle magic, and the listener is enchanted.

Alistair Roberts, the near-mythical folk man from Glasgow, appears with a wonderfully worn guitar and a set of vintage-valued songs. Based heavily on traditional ballads, the tragic rough vocals and his woven earthy guitar make his short set a one to remember; patchwork iconography and woollen aural aesthetics are the mode du jour. And finally, to round off the night, eagleowl “headlining by default” are on stage with their own small set. They’re currently catching alight in terms of press attention, garnering support from The Scotsman and The Skinny, have released a few singles. This two-piece cello and guitar band is on its way up in the world. Think Sparklehorse or The Miserable Rich and while they’re mostly similar at face value to The xx, (albeit clearly detached from the r n’b influences) they’re wonderfully distinct from anything you’ll have heard; at the same time slotting perfectly into anti-folk indie canon but retaining a pure, unique voice of its own.

Nevertheless, their sound is undeniably, almost uncomfortably confidential; when lead vocalist Bart sings in his hushed, shadowy manner it’s almost as if they’re opening a door on some innermost secret. Their lyrics are entwined with raw emotion and feeling like a vine growing up the side of an old house, rooted right into the mortar and brick. Put simply, they sound beautiful, absolutely beautiful. It’s private and gorgeous and crystalline and you don’t want them to stop playing when they are finished.

Rating: Iliop DDD, Douglas Firs DDDDD, The Wee Rogue DDDD, Alistair Roberts DDDD, eagleowl DDDD

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