Not many bands celebrate a nomination for a major national prize by heading up to the arctic circle. Yet that’s exactly what Newfoundland’s Hey Rosetta! did this year after their Hawsley Workman produced album Into Your Lungs (and around in your heart and on through your blood) was shortlisted for the Polaris Prize earlier this year. Having already picked up gongs for Best Album at last years XM awards and a mantle-full of awards at the East Coast music awards TLOBF is looking forward to the eventual release next year.

Prior to that though the band will hit grimey London Town in the next two weeks. You can catch the band at the following london watering holes:

Thursday 19th November – The Monarch (Club Fandango)
Monday 23rd November – The Windmill, Brixton
Tuesday 24th November – The Queen of Hoxton
Wednesday 25th November – The Luxe, London (Puregroove Presents)
Thursday 26th November, The Flowerpot, Kentish Town
Friday 27th November, The Borderline

Tuesday’s show will be part of Canadian Blast! -a new series of events showcasing the latest Canadian talent in the UK, and will also feature fellow Canadian’s Spiral Beach and Redbluegreen, as well as the UK’s own The Argument and How It Started

You can download “There’s an Arc” from “Into Your Lungs….” as part of Oh! Canada volume 1

Dan Mangan

Those of you who have been loitering around the security doors here at TLOBF Towers for a while now you have probably noticed the frankly phenomenal amount of great new music coming from Canada over the last few years. From the classics (Joni, Neil and Laughing Lenny), the big hitters (Arcade Fire/ BSS/ Feist) to the up and coming (The Acorn, Woodpigeon, Ohbijou) TLOBF has been committed to bring you the best of what the Great White North has to offer. So we figured it made sense to start a new column dedicated to uncovering the latest new talent emerging from Canada, to showcase some of the lesser sung acts, labels, and events that may not have shown up on the collective radar over here in the UK. So from The Acorn to Zumpano TLOBF brings you: Oh! Canada.

And what better way to start off our new column than a review of the Canadian Blast! showcase from this years recent Great Escape festival.

It seems strangely appropriate that the first artist covered by Oh! Canada is Vancouver’s Dan Mangan. After all, he has form when it comes to the Canadian National Anthem, having performed it at the start of a Vancouver Canucks (let’s go Canucks!) Ice Hockey game , he’s also scheduled to sing it again at the start of a Vancouver Whitecaps soccer game later this summer (it’s a peculiar quirk of North American Sports that at every level, no game starts without the anthem being sung, or played on a nose flute, or something). Mangan first came to prominence a couple of years back with Postcards and Dreaming which saw him draw comparissons to fellow Canuck Patrick Watson and coffee table favourite Damien Rice. But that was five years ago, and now he’s back with a less lush, more gritty sound on the Roboteering EP (given a glowing review here last week).

Having charmed the crowd of his headline show on the first night of the festival with tales of falling asleep during a Mudhoney concert, Mangan had an early start in order to accommodate the fact that he had to drive to Cambridge to support The Broken Family Band later that evening. And so it came to be that, joined by the string section of Hey Rosetta! he took to the stage at 12.15 on an overcast Friday afternoon. By rights, the venue should have been empty, but it is testament to Mangan’s growing following that it is almost filled to capacity, helped no doubt by the fact that he had snuck outside moments before to the venue’s balcony to have a quick practice before the show, causing members of the general public to come in to the cave like venue for a closer look. Mangan’s finely crafted Canadiana is perfectly accompanied by his hastily assembled swooning string section, his smooth to gritty vocal delivery just the right side of broken to appeal to the mainstream and the underground alike. About midway through the set, however, things start to go wrong, with guitar and microphone cutting out. Unfazed, Mangan simply unplugs his acoustic guitar, steps off the stage and continues the set from the middle of the crowd, who by now are in the palm of his hand. As the set draws to a close, he begins to lead the crowd in a stomping, hand clapping, sing-a-long take on EP lead track “Robot”. As the now capacity room sings in unison “Robot’s need love too/ they want to be loved by you”, it becomes clear that the future could be very bright for this young man from Vancouver. After all, as Mangan himself acknowledges: “This isn’t supposed to happen- You’re industry people, your clapping, singing harmonies and it’s not even 1pm”.

Ultimate Power Duo

Next up are Saskatoon’s brilliantly named Ultimate Power Duo. Naturally enough, UPD are in fact a classic power trio of riffs, pummeling drums all kept in check by a low end rumble to make Mike Watt jealous. Fresh from being hand picked as a support act for Bad Religion by Jay Bentley himself and a handful of dates with Canadian punk legends NomeansNo under their belt, The UPD are a vacuum tight punk rock unit, playing a self proclaimed ‘Demolition Rock”- theirs is the music that would be made if the neo-garage rock of The Hives or Rocket From The Crypt played a game of Chicken with The Minutemen and The Ramones and neither backed down. Clad in an all black uniform they know they’re R’n’R history, nodding to The Minutemen’s “If Reagan Played Disco” during the intro to the no-wave onslaught that is “Noam Disco”. The beauty of UPD is the clear delight they take in playing- a reminder that life is too short to not enjoy yourself and a celebration of living in, and for the moment. Their set ends with both non-drumming members performing Pete Townesend-esque windmills before launching their guitars into the roof of the building.

Hey Rosetta!

Having accompanied Dan Mangan early in the day, Newfoundland’s Hey Rosetta! string section clamber back on stage, with the rest of their band. The St. John’s septet are led by Tim Baker, a wiry, impassioned frontman with a fine line in bedsit angst and longing. Baker is in possesion of one of those gritty voices that cracks with passion when pushed to the limit, which it frequently is, driven along by the driving string arrangements and crunching guitars of his band. While there is no doubt a folk tint to the proceedings, more often than not Baker explodes in a jangle pop fury, utilizing simple start-stop dynamics that the Hold Steady would be proud of. This is in evidence on “There’s an Arc”, which sees him clamber aboard the drumkit as he careens around the stage. Maybe it’s the long dark nights out on the east coast, but Baker has clearly worked hard at his art, crafting epic, soaring indie pop-balladry without ever teetering over the edge in to middle of the road Snow Patrolisms. A bundle of energy onstage, his restless legs jangle as Hey Rosetta! come to the climax of their set, gang vocals and all.

The Arkells

Next up is Hamilton’s The Arkells. The most straight ahead commercial prospect featured in the Canadian Blast showcase. Having already played Canada’s V festival and opened for The Black Crowes, it seems likely that this is one of the smaller stages that they will grace in the UK. Good looking boys with bluesy rock riffs and singalong “Hey Hey Hey” choruses and piano hooks abound. There’s a clear love of early Springsteen in evidence here too on the uber-radio friendly “Pullin Punches”, and you can’t help but feel that before they make the transition to the pop-rock big time.

Ohbijou

Ohbijou’s headline set very nearly doesn’t happen, after a keyboard stand collapses onto their cello. Feedback howls from the monitors and sisters Casey and Jenny Mecija look at each other with doubt across their faces. They may not be able to hear themselves or each other, but the moment Casey’s delicate voice starts over her sisters swooning string parts it’s easy to see why Bella Union snapped up the rights to their second album, Beacons. Piano’s chime, drums pound and everything seems to click into place as the tales of doomed love and longing are played to an enchanted audience. As the rain begins to fall outside, Ohbijou wrap the crowd in a warm, comforting blanket of sound, that seems like it could protect you from whatever lies outside.

Ultimat Power Duo

The Arkells

That’s all from Oh! Canada for now but be sure to look out for more Canadian goodness courtesy of TLOBF . And don’t forget to download the Oh! Canada mixtape full of songs from the kinds of bands Oh! Canada will be introducing you to in the coming weeks and months!

Gang Of Four

The Great Escape festival. So called because it’s an excuse for all the music industry people to get out of London and, er, ‘Escape’ to Brighton. But actually they just end up creating the same ‘industry’ feeling in a nicer place with a beach and a couple of shove a penny machines. A clue that it isn’t your typical ‘punters’ festival comes in the fact that it starts on a Thursday and ends on a Saturday. Can’t have us poor industry types not having a day off can we? Still, it’s a great way to see snippits of lots of bands you wouldn’t normally get to see, and as long as you identify your must sees and give your self plenty of time to get in, things should work out pretty well. Here’s how it went down for TLOBF this weekend past:

Thursday:
As I make my way towards the seafront to register my presence at the festival, the scene before me is like the aftermath of an explosion at an American Apparel warehouse. There’s skinny jeans and ‘haircuts’ everywhere. It puts the fear of God in to me, but I plough on regardless. I swear within three minutes of arriving I’ve bumped in to Little Boots twice. It’s not just a clever name, she’s tiny. I take a programme and peruse the front cover. I recognise some names (well, the aforementioned Little Boots, Dananana….and The Big Pink) but as for the others I’m at a loss. This doesn’t bode well. Oh and The Big Pink have pulled out too, so that’s one less familiar face. Unperturbed I head north to the odious Freebutt for Brighton’s own Nullifier. Synths bleep and drums are battered in anger in a joyful spacey pop racket. Lead singer Jim Morrison (yes, really) careens around the venue, hanging on the light rigging while singing buzzy pop songs about needing protection from the ‘Radiation of Radio One’ and the positive message that despite all our problems. “these aren’t the end times/ they’re just times”. Think The Thermals covering the poppier sides of Animal Collective and you won’t go too far wrong. It’s catchy as hell, and some of the hooks are still bouncing around in my head as I make my way to catch Wintersleep. What I actually end up seeing is a bloody great queue for epic indie-punks Calories, with their jangling melodies and stuttering post-hardcore breakdowns fed through a pop blender. It’s pleasant enough but nothing to get the pulse racing.

I take to the outside world again, and a journey to Digital to get into position for grunge era pin up Evan Dando. Before that however, it’s seemingly every indie boys favourite Emmy The Great. As she takes the stage with her two cohorts there appears to be some sound issues- feedback howls as her acoustic guitar rests in front of the amp. As she starts her first song it seems thathe vocals are coming from one side of the PA and the instruments from the other. It doesn’t sound good. These are the perils of using venues not used to live music performances. Harmonies are flat, and guitars out of tune, Emmy’s reed-thin vocals struggling to come over the wasp-in-a-tin-can rasp of her over-distorted acoustic guitar. “ I wrote a set list, but I don’t think we’ll need it now” she says, evidently irritated by the whole experience. And then her string breaks. While usually they use a beer bottle from the audience as a slide, this is a Brighton nightclub, and therefore plastics only. Clearly fed up, Emmy and her band leave the stage well before their allotted time is up. Cue a lot of ‘Emmy the Not So Great Jokes’ from certain members of the crowd. Now, of course there were problems but surely if you are playing a show you should turn up with at very least a spare set of strings and a guitar slide if thats what you need to play? Even more so if you make the effort to bring a violin and violinist and then don’t use it.

Nullifier

There’s no sign of Evan Dando. With five minutes before he is due to go on a stage manager announces that he has just been on the phone to Dando will be another 20 minutes. In the photography pit there are whispers that he is being escorted to the premises by the management of the Festival. 30 minutes later a bedraggled looking figure clutching a guitar case and a sheaf of papers stumbles blinking into the spotlight. “It’s great to be back at the Zap” he slurs with a smile, recalling the previous incarnation of the venue. It’s almost tragic to see. But as soon as he strikes up the chords to “Outdoor Type” all is forgiven, and the crowd are on his side. Without speaking he runs through the classics in his back catalog, the crowd singing along and even harmonizing. The old voice is still there for the most part, a reminder of Dando’s great gift, but equally often it lets him down, falling way short of what he is, or was, capable of. The real highlight of the evening comes when, during one of the pauses in the set someone shouts out for ‘Stove’, and Dando sparks in to life once more with a heartbreakingly tender version. The phrase elegantly wasted could have been coined for just this very occasion. A set that should have finished at quarter to ten doesn’t finish until an hour later, so I head off to catch British Sea Power doing a dj set in a hotel bar that looks like a playstation. They play ‘Leader of The Gang’ by Gary Glitter at least three times. Nice.

Hey Rosetta

Friday:
After falling in to bed at 3am and then being woken by my upstairs neighbours playing Techno at terrifying levels untill 9am in the morning I am somewhat the worse for wear on Friday morning. This doesn’t stop me from attending the delights of the Canadian Blast! showcase to catch the likes of Dan Mangan (quickly becoming a TLOBF fave), Ultimate Power Duo (a three peice, natch), Hey Rosetta!, The Arkells and Ohbijou. This show, as with showcases from Japan and New Zealand amongst others, serves to highlight the pedestrian nature of the emerging ‘UK’ talents. You can’t help feeling that if the UK were asked to do a similar thing we would end up with 1001 bands that looked and sounded like Razorlight. Anyway, from start to finish the event is a literal blast, complete with singalings, guitar heroics and mid song stage collapses. (For a full review of the event, check back later in the week as TLOBF launches it’s new Canadian column). In the meantime, I’ll leave it to Dan Mangan to sum up the event: “This isn’t supposed to happen- You’re industry people, your clapping, singing harmonies and it’s not even 1pm”

Ohbijou

After a mid afternoon spent dodging the monsoon conditions and seagulls it was off to the Sallis Benney Theatre to try and catch the Mystery Jets. Once again long cues were abound and with bands only playing half hour ‘showcases’ the likelihood of getting in for the average festival goer without a delegate pass was slim. I decided it wasn’t worth braving the rain just as it was announced that due to unforeseen circumstances Mystery Jets were no longer playing live, but only playing records. This being the case I followed a tip-off I had had early in the festival and went to check out Django Django who I was assured sounded like a cross between the Beta Band and Crosby Stills and Nash. A cursory look at their myspace page the night before had confirmed this. Imagine the disappointment then when I arrive to hear them and they sounded more like Franz Ferdinand playing variations on the theme of ‘On The Road Again’ by Canned Heat. Luckily next up was my second helping of the day of self styled ‘Demolition Rockers’ Ultimate Power Duo. Actually a trio, plying a fine line of bratty no-wave rock complete with plenty of ‘Power Fist’ throwing and song titles like ‘Buddy Holly Was The First Ramone’ and ‘If Chomsky Played Disco’. Once again a band fell foul of The Great Escape sound curse, with bass and guitar amps cutting in and out throughout the set, culminating in guitar playing Scott bringing his guitar smashing neck first to the ground to bring the set to a violent conclusion.

Ultimate Power Duo

With reports coming in that Holy Fuck and Metric had punters lined up around the block I stayed on to catch local types4 or 5 magicians doing their lo-fi thing. Combining the lyrical wit of Half Man Half Biscuit with the slacker rock of Pavement they seem to win over the sparse crowd well, with their tales of credit crunch woes and being “Tesco Value till I die”. Apparently an album is forthcoming, and judging by the presence of not one but two prominent industry types in the audience you might be hearing a fair bit more about them. Also, rather brilliantly their set ends with lead singer Dan applying the remnants of his pre gig shepherds pie that was lying at the side of the stage to his guitarists face.

4 or 5 Magicians

Saturday:
Apparently as part of a promotion for Levi’s 501’s there is a secret gig happening at, er 5:01. Well done Mr Marketing Man, I see what you did there. However, you might want to have a word with your booker when you try and set up an elaborate brand tie in. For example booking Pete Doherty was NEVER going to work. True to form, I hear Doherty turned up over 40 minutes late before playing a quick set to an invite only crowd. Hilarious.

For my last Great Escape relocation I head over to Hove Old Market, to catch the frankly stellar line up of Ohbijou, Joe Gideon and the Shark , VV Brown and the ‘mighty’ (as Marry Anne Hobbes might say) Gang of Four. Brilliantly, Mojo, the stage sponsors, have had a poster specially made advertising ‘London’s angular overlords’… way to do your research guys. Unless of course you haven’t booked the band from Leeds, in which case there could be trouble.

Evan Dando

For some reason Swiss chanteuse Sophie Hunger has been tacked on to the bill instead of her scheduled Komedia show. And seems to be running late. Very late. By the time her band finally clear the stage of all their equipment Ohbijou are supposed to have started. Inept soundmen hang about on stage seemingly doing very little, apart from knocking a keyboard on to Ohbijou’s violin, the second keyboard related incident of their Great Escape (the day before a keyboard stand collapsed onto a cello). When Ohbijou finally get started their music hushes the audience, sisters Casey and Jenny’s sweet vocals pulling at the heart strings and soaring in equal measure.

By the time Joe Gideon and The Shark take the stage the crowd has begun to swell. Again hampered with sound difficulties it seemingly takes an age for them to begin, but when they finally do the crowd are enraptured by the whirling dervish that is Viva’s seemingly multi-limbed drumming, piano playing and vocal looping tour de force. The great thing is that, no matter how many times you see them perform, you can still get transfixed by the spectacle. Even Joe Gideon himself looks amazed at times by the end of the songs. It is safe to say they have won a legion of fans by the time they have to cut their set short “for Gang of Four”. “Fuck Gang of Four” comes a cry for the audience. “That was the plan” replies Gideon, a wry smile across his face.

However, one suspects that it is not actually Gang Of Four who need to be made way for. In possibly the most ludicrous piece of booking of the year, what follows is a full show by Island records great new pop hope. VV Brown takes the stage with her slick, session musician backed do-wop pop with hints at rockabilly and cheeky winks. Before she takes the stage her man-mountain of a bass player tells the crowd to make some noise. It’s horrific. The whole thing stinks of money, and when Brown plays a full 35 minute set and then decides to do an encore it is plain to see that it is money that is talking at the festival. That isn’t to see that her sprightly pop is bad per se, just that it is about as inappropriate in this setting as Slayer opening for Cliff Richard. And the blatant disregard for the other artists on the line up leaves a sour taste in the mouth.

VV Brown

Gang of Four may now look more like Grandad of Four, but they are everything you hope they would be: pulverising basslines, skeletal guitars and thumping drums, a world away from the pop ludicrousness that proceeded it. Andy Gill’s abrasive guitar and stone face in stark contrast by the staring eyes and proto-Bez dancing of frontman Jon King. Swapping between mics the band are a constantly active, King throwing himself around the stage, pointing and gyrating as he spits his lyrics out with venom. At one point he brings out a baseball bat and proceeds to smash the living daylights out of a microwave to form the percussion. It is stark, brutal and intense. The crowd go mad, taken up in the passion, and yet, as ever a few idiots have to spoil it, throwing punches and crushing smaller members of the audience against the stage. Despite a tight curfew of 11pm the band continue on till 11.20pm when they are told they have to stop. There are huge boos, as the set only lasts about 30 minutes. As the stage manager comes to the stage to apologise, morons in the audience throw drinks, shout and spit at him, calling him every name under the sun. Some idiot clambers on stage and shrieks in to the microphone before being bundled away be security. Despite asking for the house lights to go up the lighting team keep them down, and the tension in the room builds-things are getting ugly and the same morons who were throwing punches earlier are now banging the monitors on the stage. When they are asked to stop it they throw a hail of abuse and fists towards the promoter. It’s an ugly scene that mars an otherwise breathtaking performance.

Andy Gill, Gang Of Four