Went to see underground American indie folk outfit Midlake last night at the Leadmill.They were much better than the last time I saw them at the Plug back when they were touring the brilliant “Tales Of Van Occupanther” album.Back then we were inspired by their performance to say “this is why punk rock was invented” so much did they remind us of the mid seventies bands which bored us back on the Old Grey Whistle Test before the Ramones came along and shook it all up.
Here is a very quick review of last night.
Occasionally Two Flutes.
Occasionally Two Flutes and a recorder!!
Weirdie,Beardie,hymal folk tunes.
Bible school introductions.
One Gary from the LMM office look a like!
Just the right side of annoyingly muso.
The support was from John Grant who has recorded my favourite CD of the year with Midlake (Queen Of Denmark) Gary did a fantastic review of his show at the Camden Jazz Cafe a month or so ago.You can read the full review here http://www.thecamdenstore.co.uk:80/?p=397 but I have nicked a bit of it below because its far more elequent than I would be if I wrote a review.
Finally crawling from the abyss of alt-country obscurity, John Grant managed to create one of the most witty, tragic and emotionally frank albums of the year so far; with the help of indie favourites Midlake. ‘Queen Of Denmark’ is Grant’s first solo album since disbanding his Denver based outfit The Czars back in 2004 and fuses tender piano and acoustic tales of self-pity with snipes at ex-lovers and homo-phobic culture accompanied by occasional synths and dramatic yet restrained orchestral instrumentation.
An ordinarily dressed, bearded, gentle giant took to the stage in front of a full Camden Jazz Cafe. His physical appearance more suited to a mid-west lumberjack than a shy and emotionally troubled musician. The audience seemed to fall in love with him in an instant, warm applause and cheers followed him around the stage. Any kind of polite murmur was shot down within seconds of Grant sitting down at the piano and opening his mouth. His voice, like benign molten lava, filled the room with warmth and detracted any attention away from the awkwardly placed synth player at the front of the stage.