This Is Not TV

Though for my money Wintermute are one of the best bands in Leeds at the moment, no-seems to have quite captured their tight as Russell Brand’s trousers live sound on CD or vinyl – it sounds good, but not great. Things might be different here, though. It’s produced by Duels’ James Kenosha, he of the barn out towards Whitby, and his recent work with This Et Al has been highly commendable, if final. Care to dance the math tango?

First things first, he doesn’t like to muck about with bands who like to muck about. ‘Bad Company In A Sauna’ starts halfway through a conversation and doesn’t stop to fill you in. David Hemmings’ guitar line bounces along like a Barnes Wallace bomb in miniature – small but devastating – dropping out occasionally to let Chris Newbould’s bass chat conversationally in the background. It is very Futureheads, that’s a given, but just heavy enough and erratic enough to prevent it from being labelled new rave pop. The production is crisp and tight, but effervescent and rich – like a sparkling white absinthe.

Essentially it’s just a warm up for ‘Dead Or Not He Was Wearing Sunglasses’ and ‘Spanish Girls,’ two mighty tracks. The first, riffing lightly on a Kyuss variation at double speed, jumps and starts, throwing in inspired half-riffs teasingly, putting Ben Johnson’s drumming skills to the test with it’s time changing antics and Fall-like shouts. Dan sounds more like a PiL era John Lyddon here than some kind of math-boy, throwing a healthy dash of punk into the mix. It’s one of those songs you’ll want to hear again immediately… almost like it was live. No time for that, though, as ‘Spanish Girls’ pirouettes up on spiked guitar phrases. The rhythms sound improvised, but it’s so tight that it just can’t be possible. It’s angry – David’s middle eight is shouted down continuously, but is finally allowed to escort you gracefully to the end of the song.

Unfortunately, ‘I Abandoned My Boy’ comes as a bit of a lull. It sounds too conventional, even though the guitars engage in a nice bit of counterpoint – Chris and Ben have nothing very interesting to do. Drink at the bar song. So ‘Emerald Zone Act 2’ (Sonic reference) will have you downing that pint and heading for the front again. The Ministry-like rim-tap of Ben and the coasting stoner bass of Chris give way to panicky cries from Dan and more fervent riffing from David as the swimming protagonist of the song tires. ‘Jambon! Jambon!’ rounds things off neatly, showcasing David’s finger picking and Chris’s bass chuntering, leaving Dan to scream about the ‘crackle of a cigarette’ amidst the flares and explosions of the resulting climax.

I could go on about Wintermute being a band of their time, but that’s a bit of a lame, pointless statement. They’re young, fired up and talented, playing with what they like and slapping riffs about until they fit. They’re fearless, and I think that shows on here. The vocals may be basic, but you will shout along with them; the titles don’t make any sense, but you will remember them; the boys may get compared to other bands… but they will bury them. Mark my words.

Popularity: 12% [?]

They say you know you’re getting old when you attend more funerals than weddings per annum. I don’t get invited to weddings anymore (one of the joys of having a small child – people think he’s going to get into the cake or something? actually more than likely) but I am a bit worried about band demise in my vicinity these days…

First one to go was Mother Vulpine, a band I interviewed and had tipped for good things: split up due to creative differences. Then the Acutes; then Vatican Jet. I was starting to feel like Typhoid Mary. But then i got over myself and realised that it was a more serious pandemic of splitilitis – bands that had showed unfailing resilience and a great deal of promise were just tossing it in and taking up, I dunno, jobs in accounting.

These past weeks, Leeds has seen the death of This Et Al and Shut Your Eyes And You’ll Burst Into Flames, two very original, very likeable and utterly danceable bands that should have had long and happy lives. Now I read that Newcastle’s Kubichek! have called it a day – another band packed to the eyebrows with potential. What’s happening, kids?

I’m not going to have a go – this is more of an appeal than anything. Gig goers, music appreciators, downloaders, bit-streamers, you tubers – anyone who likes music that hasn’t been prepackaged for maximum commercial impact – get up, get out… and get off the beaten track. That band you’ve heard so much but never seen? Go and see them – your soul will love you for it. Become part of the vibe and prevent another death through apathy or any number of reasons. You like music? Unless you make it, you’re going to have to support it – that’s your responsibility. And what an enjoyable responsibility it is too.

Besides, local bands play in venues with cheaper nicer beer on the whole – everyone’s a winner!

Popularity: 11% [?]

Mike Patton once sang ‘shit lives forever’ and when I think about the demise of quality bands like This Et Al and the continued success of bands like The Kooks, I think he definitely had a point. Fortunately, before they did the big ‘adios,’ the big noise boys left us something very special to remember them by, and I don’t mean a turd on the Axminster.

Immediate. That’s what this is. “Walking in a figure eight,” Wu sirens over the ticking time bomb beat laid down by Steve Wilson shortly before Chris Wall and Ben Holden open up with a guitar and bass salvo so low and heavy that you feel it in your gut. The shift between ¾ and 2/4 makes it sound like a heavy metal version of Holst’s ‘Mars’: fitting, as this is classic TEA: loud, sloganeering, fast and harsh, sludge metal meets indie rock, Kyuss meets Joy Division. It is not a bad fusion. Not bad at all. Aurally, you settle in for some 6G riffs that will hurt for a bit, be utterly exhilarating but ultimately brief.

So ‘Medicine Hammer’ is a complete surprise. The fuzz guitar is pushed into the background, a lone electric takes centre stage, vocals are contemplative and the whole thing is more focused than frantic. The drums are still going ten to the dozen, but song itself is more stately – like a Rolls Royce with a Bugatti engine under the hood. The sound is even allowed to drop out for a moment. Not that old TEA was bad, but this is a more mature, measured dynamic. The riff becomes a shimmering drone and strings carry the tune off into the ether, demonstrating a complexity and restraint only hinted at in ‘Cabin Hum.’

‘Ice Age’ continues to buck the trend, opening with an accordion, giving the guitars space to breathe before blossoming rather than exploding. Wu’s voice still hovers on the brink of falsetto collapse, but it scintillates without cracking. They’ve evolved as a band, like Radiohead did between The Bends and OK Computer, and it is good; it’s exciting. New vistas beckon.

The EP closes with ‘(The Tale Of) Frosty Jack’, an instrumental folksy number, broad of instrumentation and sweeping of gestures – what sounds like an interlude but desolate, frigid and melancholic. In retrospect, we can see why, but hope lies on that frozen plain if you don’t consider what happens next. Until you do, the future is an exciting, if frightening place.

Of course, what did happen next was nothing. The band split, the album never got recorded, the supporting tour and consequent discovery never occurred. Pity; the sound was becoming more universal, the edge was just taken off. Perhaps that’s what did it. The aroma of compromise was in the air and they didn’t like it. Whatever the reason, listen to this, smile, then weep ‘til the sound of the dawn chorus reminds you that the long night is over.

The Figure Eight EP is still available on vinyl from On The Bone Records.

Popularity: 4% [?]

A night of mixed emotions for all concerned makes for an interesting vibe at the Brudenell Social Club tonight. On one hand, promoter James Brown is all a turmoil over the cancellation of joint headliners This Et Al due to today’s surprise split announcement and on the other it’s his birthday. Nothing like living in interesting times.

I am running a tad late, so I only catch the closing song of Her Name Is Calla’s set, ‘New England.’ It is a pretty almighty noise though. Thom Corah and Sophie Barnes are torturing unholy noises from their brass – not altogether in tune, but that’s the essence of despair, Tom Morris is almost weeping into his guitar and new kid Adam Weikert is looking bewildered on drums. Slightly abridged for time constraints, the toms kick in and the whole thing collapses angrily, sweating onto the stage like a tantrum made flesh. I look forward to the tour.

Fran’s lilting folkery is very much the lull before the storm tonight, a soothing balm to take the sting out of things. Solo tonight, she lights and warms the stage with ‘I Came To You Under Winter Sun,’ her last single, a very relaxed, amiable performance rather than an intense heartbreaking one. She dedicates ‘This Is Dedicated’ to James only to forget the words. No matter. She may not have the melodic fury of This Et Al, but as musical negotiator, she does a sterling job.

Talking about Stirling jobs, The Twilight Sad are from Glasgow. Hmm. Whatever, last time I saw them they damaged my hearing in such a sweet way that I am back for more. I don’t know how they manage it, but tonight as they play on a smaller stage than when I last saw them, it appears to be more crowded and emptier at the same time. Noise soon fills any gaps and as James Graham does his best to adopt a nouveau Ian Curtis style my ears start to buzz pleasantly. The secret to it all is in the primal drums of Mark Devine, playing the heartbeat of the world so that when Craig Orzell and Andy Macfarlane descend into drone so intense you could lie on it comfortably, you can still twitch rhythmically like a meat puppet on electrodes. As I lose myself in the crowd to that enticing I rhythm, I am filled with remorse as there would have been no more perfect pairing than this band and This Et Al. My remorse is soon bludgeoned out of me leaving James to scream my pain in his Glaswegian brogue. Not the most animated of performances but be still my beating heart… such pain and desire can only be love.

Popularity: 9% [?]

Leeds will be a quieter place from this time on as math/post/indie rock monsters This Et Al have decided to call it a day after six years of bringing the noise.

Formed in 2002, This Et Al were contemporaries of iLiKETRAiNS, Pigeon Detectives and iForward Russia! and had just released the ‘Figure of Eight’ EP through On The Bone records. In a recent interview for Contact Music, Wu had said that following on from that release they were due to start working on an album.

Unfortunately, this was not to be due to ’some relationships within the band [breaking] down,’ as quoted on their MySpace page.

Individual band members will be pursuing other projects, but for This Et Al, it’s all over.

RIP This Et Al, Nov. ‘02 – Jun. ‘08

Popularity: 8% [?]