Plastic Animals
Plastic Animals build layers of sound. A bass dances. A guitar wails. Distorted howling. It cascades onto everyday pop songs to give them a character all of their own.
One intro feels like paragliding over Iceland; the soundscape suggesting huge, abrupt topography while the guitar adds whistles through rocky crags.
For all the noise additions, though, you can instantly tell what instrument these songs were written on – all are underpinned by distorted guitar strums. Arguably, it would boost originality were they to take the brave step of dropping the guitar altogether and letting the unorthodox sounds weave a song together. The quality and structure of the songs themselves are strong enough to avoid it simply sounding gimmicky. Come now, gents. Be brave.
Edinburgh School For The Deaf
The guitar sounds like a Clyde shipyard crane dying. The band join in and build into an almighty primal scream. Suddenly the song breaks into a 60s New York warehouse party. And the atmosphere is no less buzzing. There’s a genuine excitement about this band, which on the evidence of tonight’s gig is totally justified.
The three guitarists pull shapes as the singer, Aggie, stalks the stage. When delivering lines, she stares unfalteringly at the audience. She is made in the Annie Lennox mould – severe cheekbones, severe haircut, and red lipstick. She has charisma in spades. As an amusing bonus, one guitarist – a bloke – has exactly the same haircut. He and the other members are also compelling as they jump around in gay abandon. This isn’t just a band playing some songs – this is a show.
Bassist Grant takes over singing duties, so Aggie naturally enough picks up the bass. At first Grant stands looking innocent, clutching the words on paper, but then the band let’s rip, and he spits, “love is terminal” whilst climbing amps and generally unleashing the beast. Meanwhile the band sway in a dance macabre.
The band thrumb as Aggie recites spoken word in Polish. It shimmers with emotional honesty and intensity. For the final crescendo, the drummer, Jamie, carries a snare into the audience, and proceeds to batter it senseless with occasional thwacks whilst all else descends into noise. The band lay down instruments, crumple up words, and depart. The roar ascends.
Birdhead
We all possess an innate need to boogie. Beats that move us. Beats that make you vibrate. Beats that seeks out our collective inner dance-beast. All a band has to do is find those beats, then deliver them with gusto. Step up, Birdhead.
Just guitar, drums and electronic wizardry produce all sounds. With beefy syncopation, it’s almost impossible not to move. A snarling guitar is joined by the occasional cowbell. (What song is not improved by the addition of a cowbell? That’s right – none.)
Bouncy 80s disco bass underpins one track. And all this is carried off because Birdhead are a very tight band. “Just another hero,” is sung, perfectly summing up the bands laconic yet confident air. A stunning bird-movie backdrop plays throughout. Great.
(Words by Rob Sproul-Cran)
