Gig Reviews

Late on a cold Tuesday afternoon, rather than spend the evening alone in the house playing Sonic the Hedgehog and eating pickled onions straight from the jar, I make the snap decision to go to the gig that Andy Kelly (Georgian Theatre gig promoter) has been banging on at me about for weeks.

Not really that bothered about the acts, but I know a lot of people that are going along so it should good for the social.

I can’t remember the name of the acts even as I pick up my friend Dean, who will be my +1 for the evening.

Dean reminds me that the headliner is one Jack Rose, a twelve string and slide guitar player who has some kind of connection with Devendra Banhart.

The support act is come drummer called Chris Corsano, who apparently has played with most of Sonic Youth.

Whilst this sounds promising, the prospect of a half-hour drum solo is a little frightening. I hate it when guitarists solo, let alone drummers!

The High Plane Drifters set is just finishing as I arrive, a shame for sure especially considering tonight they were trying out a brand new acoustic set with tables, but I’ve seen them live a dozen or more times, and I know I’ll get the chance to catch them again soon.

I hear the last 30 seconds of their set muffled through the double doors at the entrance of the venue whilst they tick us off on the guestlist – and it sounds quite nice.

We head to the bar for a drink, and get chatting to assorted members of various local bands about the upcoming acts.

Apparently they both have had something to do with Six Organs of Admittance which, whilst I know supposedly is a good thing, I greet with indifference.

I saw Six Organs… supporting Joanna Newsom last year, and she completely overshadowed them.

Still, Chris Corsano seems to be setting up his kit on the floor at the ‘wrong’ end of the venue – which reminds me of Lightning Bolt and consequently raises my spirits.

His arms are a blur, trashing out the fastest, most audacious jazz rhythms I’ve ever heard.

Now he’s playing with knives and forks. Now pots and pans. Now he plays a drone chord on a with a pair of cello bows on a string stretched taut on his snare drum.

Now he’s wailing on a saxophone or clarinet mouthpiece attached to a length of flexible pipe. Now he’s sent a cymbal clattering off into the audience.

Now he’s pushing and pulling on his drum skins, and somehow incorporating the unreeling of Sellotape from floor tom into his routine.

And if all this sounds pretentious to you, if you’re the kind of person that considers anything not involving four or five white indie-boys with nice jackets and guitars pretentious, then it probably is.

It sounds pretentious now looking back at it, but maybe you weren’t there to see the people in the audience scoop their jaw up off the floor.

Chris Corsano is the first person I’ve seen since Death Sentence: Panda to really do something with music I’ve genuinely never heard anything like before. I’m a total convert.

In the space of half an hour or maybe less, Corsano’s sound resembles so many different things it’s impossible to describe. If it didn’t sound so contrived I’d say he sounded like a one-man Godspeed You! Black Emperor throwing supermarket trolleys down the stairs and a gamelan steel-drum band (‘on acid’, if you’re an NME-write in the 90’s).

I hate myself for even considering writing that.

Jack Rose’s intricate ragtime guitar sounds relatively straightforward in comparison, and whilst I enjoy the first fifteen minutes or so I find that my attention soon begins to drift.

It's pleasant enough, and certainly very listenable (think Robert Johnson, Django Reinhardt etc), but the guitar remains unaccompanied throughout the whole set – and if you’ve just had your perceptions altered by such a remarkable support act as I have you’re bound to find the return journey a little dull.

Jack Rose is an excellent guitarist no question, but tonight he was outshone by a very unique talent.