Gig Review: The Pastels / Electrelane / The Royal We 29.04.07 The Bongo Club

What brings a gig up from merely good to being truly great, a near transcendental experience? The motto for this year’s Triptych festival is, “If you don’t live it, it won’t come out of your horn,” a quote from the great jazz musician Charlie Parker. It is an appropriate banner under which to hold a festival whose main priorities have always been musical diversity, innovation and passion over coherence and commerciality. It certainly fits the bill tonight, when two of Britain’s most underappreciated bands are given a chance to shine in front of a small but dedicated audience, resulting in a triumph of passion over reason, logic and expectation. And it’s always nice to find out that you are not as cynical or as jaded as you think you are.
It is a pleasure to see The Royal We again, who have written a few more songs since I last saw them and have tightened up a bit around the edges, though not enough to loose their amateurish charm. But they are not why the audience is here tonight.
The British music press is renowned for its fickleness, but surely none have suffered more undeservedly from its poor attention span then Electrelane. Hyped up and shot down as the new Stereolab before they ever had a chance to be cool, they have become stereotyped in the press as po-faced feminists with questionable musical ability churning out stodgy clever-clever post-rock. As it turns out, nothing could be further from the truth. Working to indifference from the record buying public and sniffy hacks alike, Electrelane have just got on with becoming Britain’s greatest pop group. It is a truly astounding thing to see a band at the peak of their powers, but that is what is on show tonight. Electrelane’s individual members may still be untutored and not conventionally adept musicians, but on record and on stage they play with a sense of power and dynamics that puts all of their more conventionally “talented” peers to shame. More intuitive then intellectual, their music has a rough and ready sense of fun missing from the post-rock scene, which combines with a love of gritty noise to rudely cut them off from the tasteful politeness that marred Stereolab’s later albums. The rhythm section of Ros Murray and Emma Gaze joyously chase through thunderous peaks and quiet valleys, whilst Mia Clarke, who must be one of this generation’s most under-rated guitarists, melds delicate arpeggios to post-Sonic Youth squall. Verity Susman’s voice is capable of both crystal-like clarity and Moe Tucker-ish fragility, and she is just as at home singing about lost love as she is quoting Nietzsche of Tennyson. In spite of their reputation for knotty instrumentals, their songs, which are very much songs, are rich in both melody and emotional openness; even their instrumentals possess a striking lyricism. ‘This Deed’ is a thing of sparkling, elegant beauty; new single ‘To The East’ is a touching song of love and loss. And instrumental closer ‘Long Dark’ veers across canyons of raw feedback. Bursting with joy, hope, love and longing, and possessed with a playful sensuality without having to conform to any sonic clichés the worst kind of male sexist music hack would associate with that word, Electrelane are a truly magical and wondrous band.
Having to follow Electrelane wasn’t going to be easy, but any band with the pedigree of The Pastels would, you think, not be likely to worry. But The Pastels didn’t get where they are today by macho displays of confidence. Despite being the leader of one of the most passionately adored cult bands in the world, Stephen Pastel still keeps up his day job of working in a record shop in Glasgow. Live appearances have been rare of late, and despite a 25-odd year career, The Pastels look decidedly awkward on stage, something not helped by Stephen’s amp breaking down whilst the band set up, resulting in an extra 20 minutes of waiting for the audience before the band get going, testing the patience of the audience. Technical glitches eventually overcome, once the band start – opening with two songs written in collaboration with Japanese band Teniscoats – it is immediately apparent what is so special about this band – not that the gathered faithful didn’t know already. Despite their still limited musical ability, The Pastels are gifted with a very natural sense of melody. Stephen Pastel stands in the left corner of the stage, looking both awkward and embarrassed, his atonal vocals quiet and restrained. There is no visual focus on the stage, and the band struggle to keep in time together. But then, something magical happens: through sheer belief in not themselves but their music, through passion and through the strength and beauty of Stephen’s tunes, what should be a shambling wreck assembles itself and the song builds to a dramatic and emotional peak. And so The Pastels’ belief in the power of music is transformed into reality – the end effect is both awe-inspiring and moving. The Pastels have long been stereotyped as a twee C86 band, but they were always something beyond that, something which is apparent here tonight. Though often sited as the archetypal indie band, The Pastels are possessed with a joy de vivre and humour together with a complete lack of egoism or smugness, making them very much the opposite of what too often characterizes indie music. The Pastels are often compared unfavourably to The Smiths, but it’s impossible to imagine Morrissey singing something as emotionally honest and affecting as ‘Thru’ Your Heart’, or being able to achieve the shimmering technicolour joy of ‘Nothing To Be Done’. Not only has disaster been averted, a great gig has been played, perhaps as much a surprise to the band themselves as anyone else. Not that we really doubted them for a second.