Tag Archives: Fake Turins

01.17.20
by

Sonic Breakfast Top Ten 2019 – Number Three – TETINE, Fake Turins and Voodoo Rays – The Shacklewell Arms

I’m not really a writer who criticises much. It’s not my style. There were a few times in 2019 when I was less than effusive and one in particular that sticks in the throat. That March night and my review (here for reminders) at the Shacklewell Arms of the great TETINE and Fake Turins was also marred by the appearance of geriatric -rockers, Voodoo Rays. It seems appropriate that such a night should take number three billing in the Sonic Breakfast top ten of 2019. It’s the only top ten that Voodoo Rays will find themselves in this year.

Voodoo Rays weren’t best pleased with my review as evidenced by this response.

Hi Sean

Thanks for the review. 

I’m sorry our drummer almost knocked your pint over last night. The care home he lives in locks its doors at 11, so he has to rush to get back in time. I’ve tried to order a book on gig etiquette for him, but there doesn’t seem to be one available. You seem to know a lot about it- perhaps you should write the definitive text? 

It’s a shame that you didn’t have time to talk about the music more; we’re always interested in sprightly well informed criticism of our songs. I think all I picked up was that we shouldn’t be so old. Rest assured we’ll try to be younger next time.

All the best

Frank Ray

This is at least quite witty from Frank though. I also revelled in altogether less pleasant prose from another member of the band that’s not worthy of publication. 

It’ll come as little surprise that Voodoo Rays did not feature in the BBC Sound of 2020 list. But they have played gigs in small venues in 2019. In 2020, they’ve entered a competition to play a festival. Bless them!! Still, I’ve resolved to be a much better person this year and if that means being invited to a Voodoo Rays gig and eating humble pie when they’re actually bloody brilliant then so be it.

 

A Fake Turins show featured elsewhere in this top ten (here) but they’re such a fine band I’ll give them two bites of the cherry. In a couple of Friday’s time, they are again playing at the Shacklewell, a headline set in celebration of a new single. It’s free and I’ve reserved my ticket on DICE today. So should you if you know what’s good for you and you don’t want to miss out. 

 

TETINE haven’t played in London much since this odd night. The duo have been involved in all sorts of artistic endeavours though both here and back in their native Brazil. Their contributions have filled art galleries; they’ve DJ’d in dungeons and pushed the boundaries. They remain a thing to behold. 

Back later with the top two of this slow, arduous and arguably quite pointless countdown.. 

 
12.31.19
by

Sonic Breakfast Top Ten 2019 – Number Six – Fake Turins and Shattercones – 26 Leake Street

2019 has been a great year for me. Zone one London living on cheap-as-chips floors, seasonal ups and downs and yet an ultimate sense of moving forward more than backwards. 

Happy at the Spanish villa, I look out of the windows to see wispy white clouds stitched into the pale blue sky. Reeds in distant furrows wave at me as they rock back and forward in the shallow breeze. Peace. Restful peace. Chill.

I know that there are some back in Blighty for whom Christmas will have been tough. And not just those turkeys who voted for food-banks and a widening of the gap between the have and have-nots. It’s a time of reflection and for many life will be irrevocably different to how it was in 2018. Loss, grief, release, memories. 

Number six in my countdown of Sonic Breakfast 2019 gigs is one that will always stick in the memory. It was at 26 Leake Street in May that I learnt of the passing of John. I wrote about it here. A fine man, I’m sure that there were tears and yet joyful tales told in his memory around dining tables this past week. 

Since that night in May, Fake Turins have raised their profile with video releases and headline shows. Without giving too much away about the rest of this top ten another of their gigs that I saw features higher up the chart. So I won’t dwell much upon them here. Suffice to say that they’re one act that I plan to see before Winter gives way to Spring. 

 

Shattercones ended the year playing support shows with New Model Army, dabbling in soundtracks and soundscapes. Their artistic endeavours will undoubtedly draw me in again in 2020. 

 

Happy New Years Eve. Must get a boogie on with the top five whilst thinking of 2019’s highlights and lowlights. 

11.28.19
by

Life At The Arcade, History & Lore, Juke Lucid and Day – O2 Academy Islington – November 22nd 2019

The Islington O2 Academy prides itself on being London’s smallest academy. It also seems to pride itself on being a bit shit. Not on its own in terms of academy venues, this is a space that appears to relish in sucking the life and soul out of live music. I find myself wondering, whilst there on Friday night, whether the whole set-up is a great conspiracy, an establishment investment. Make music venues naff and stack the cards against enjoying gigs and then people will come out less – bingo – control and suppression at its best. Thank goodness that London has so many other venues that buck that trend.

I concede that my conspiracy theory is an extreme one. But I have evidence with which to back it up. Expensive beer and an excessively poor range (fine if you like Carling); broken hinges on urine-soaked toilet doors; bands having to accept the less than adequate sound mix they’re given; crazy rules that dictate that once you’ve entered the venue you can’t leave if you want to come back in (despite gigs starting at 6.30PM) and over-the-top security searches. I could go on but I won’t. And in the interests of balance, the bar staff here in Islington are friendly. 

I’m here as the afternoon gives in to the evening to see Day. They’re an act that I’ve been keen to see for a little while. Alex fronts up Day and also sings backing vocals in one of my favourite live discoveries of this London year, Fake Turins. (Reviews of them here and here). Alex has enthusiastically promoted Day live shows to me by e-mail but I’ve always had to make excuses with something else on. This O2 Academy gig supporting Life At The Arcade is my opportunity. 

Alex warns me that the gig has a hideously early start time. Half six on a Friday might be a challenge for some but not for me living a literal stones throw from this space. “I’ve never played a gig so early”, says Alex to other friends gathered. 

Day are an interesting proposition, a work-in-progress that have more than enough about them to keep on moving forward. As the venue manager waves an incense stick around to take away last night’s smells, the four-piece take to the stage. It’s lo-fi hippy; a sound mess of an intro gives way to an off-kilter police siren before a classic rock sound fuelled by Led Zep chords comes to the fore. There are obviously experimental kazoo-bits, cardboard didgeridoo’s and blasts of saxophone. 

Alex’s exceptional rock vocal holds it all together. In ‘Chasing Sugar’, his range goes from the bass of a Barry White into the falsetto of a Jimi Somerville in the space that verse changes into chorus. A set highlight for me comes at the end of Day’s set when they launch into ‘I have everything I need’. I interpret it as an instant anti-greed, climate-change classic, delivered in the style of The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown.

For a work-in-progress, Day have set their bar high.

Still early evening when Day finish, I look to temporarily head out of Islington’s O2 Academy to get a bite to eat. There are still three bands to play and it’ll be a long night without food. “Sorry sir, company rules is that once in we can’t do re-entry”, says the sympathetic guy on the door. After some radio kerfuffle, an exception is made for me. I’m grateful yet the venue has a handful of people within. Their practice is odd.

I return to see Juke Lucid take to the stage. I’ve got a real downer on the venue by this time. Sonic Breakfast in a critical mood is probably not what bands want when I’m reviewing and my notes on Juke Lucid are abrupt. I note that they’re perfectly pleasant if a bit characterless, little more than background music in a shit venue. The bland pop gets marginally more exciting when a chap in a hoodie takes to the stage to rap. Jake Lucid end with a cover of Stardust’s ‘Music Sounds Better With You’. I suspect that their music would sound better in a different venue. 

History & Lore are up next and fare little better than Juke Lucid in terms of grabbing my attention. Perhaps my grumpy mood is crumbling because I do note that the five of them make a decent sound, even if it’s not my thing. The lead guitarist and singer has an arrogance suggesting he’s better then he actually is but their keyboard player sings and is very good. There’s a Los Campesinos feel to some of their work. That’s the extent of my notes. 

I feel genuinely sorry for Life At The Arcade. Tonight’s headliner have travelled all the way from Liverpool to be welcomed by a fistful of fans. Life At The Arcade deliver indie scouse melody with charm and theatre. They’re all dressed in black t-shirts and have clearly thought about their show. Some might argue that the world has to many Catfish & The Bottlemen, Blossoms or Circa Waves tribute acts but I’m not one of them. As tough a gig as this might have been for Life At The Arcade, they keep on it throughout. They now just need to stop playing such shit venues in the hope of developing their career. 

There’s still time to catch last orders (and more) in a pub around the corner. It’s a pub with nice beer, decent toilets and a bunch of cracking tunes on the jukebox. I can see why it would make for a fun Friday night. 

06.03.19
by

Fake Turins & Shattercones – 26 Leake St – May 29th 2019

I am bereft. Just before arriving at 26 Leake Street, I receive a text confirming what’s been on the cards for a short while. 

A great man, the Grandpa to my son, has passed away. 

I didn’t see John much in the latter years of his life. My memories are of a kind, busy man; a witty cynic who had an enduring curiosity for life. He tried hard to convince me about the jazz he loved though I was never sure at the time.

I sit at the back of the Leake Street railway arch on a communal bench and have a private moment. A tear falls. 

 

Shattercones might have to forgive me in this circumstance that I don’t give them my full attention. I see enough from this distant vantage point to know that they’re a band I’d typically like. It’s very Dirty Three; fiddle-led murder ballads played by quiffed men in suits. Their songs build into thrilling, orchestrated climaxes. The higher, arched ceilings in this venue perhaps moot and muffle the overall, intended effect. Regardless, I note their name and resolve to check them out again in months to come.

Fake Turins are headlining tonight. So impressed was I by this sprawling collective when I first saw them (here) it was a no-brainer to choose to see them again a couple of months on. If anything, and this is the highest of praise, they’ve got tighter and more urgent since that initial gig. 

They’re really going for it tonight. When I last saw them, I observed that backing singer, Alex, might have been an expert in some sort of throat singing. Tonight, you can be left in no doubt that his contribution to Fake Turins is considerably greater than that. His harmonies carry the extended jams into different directions; at times, he becomes the tick making this clock tock.

Their Lead singer, replete with red hair tonight, still conducts the rest of the band a bit but the need to do so appears reduced. Each member of this consortium knows their place and there’s a comfort as a whole in the sound being produced. It results in an astonishing array of rhythm; at times, an euphoric, gospel-based rush. 

It’s the drummer’s birthday. Fake Turins draw attention to this and celebrate accordingly. They’ve got kazoos and cowbells; they know how to party even if the audience remain mostly seated and reserved. 

I’m glad I persevered with tonight. Fake Turins provided an ounce of cathartic release just when I needed it most. 

03.08.19
by

Tetine, Fake Turins and Voodoo Rays – The Shacklewell Arms – March 7th 2019

My working week in London is nearly done. After a training day tomorrow, I head out to the countryside (well, Peterborough and Leicester) for a weekend break from the constant go. I can’t help myself. This is a city that never sleeps and so I oblige by rarely nodding off. It helps that the bed in this Airbnb is basically an instrument of torture.

 

But I won’t grumble. Instead I’ll just make myself scarce and head off to another free gig. Anywhere else they wouldn’t be free but there’s just too much choice in this town. It’s back to the Shacklewell Arms tonight. I enjoyed my first trip there (reviewed here) and this is a chance to see three more bands. 

I arrive just as Voodoo Rays begin. I don’t want to be ageist – indeed, I’m no spring chicken myself – but it’s fair to say that Voodoo Rays have age on their side. It’s something of a surprise then that life experience doesn’t seem to have given any of these losers insight into gig etiquette. They’re not astonishingly awful though I do find myself hoping that somebody will tell them they’ve over-run when they casually enquire ‘how much time have we got left’. They play ‘new ones’ which seems to be code for ones we’ve not fully rehearsed.

 

What really gets my goat – and swings my mind towards slamming Voodoo Rays – (regular readers of Sonic Breakfast will realise this is a rare occurrence) is their attitude post gig. There mightn’t be space to leave kit anywhere at the Shacklewell but it’s just bloody rude to spread yourself out alongside the wall with a shelf – the only place where punters can rest their beer glasses. The drummer excessively and possessively fiddles with kit like nobody else here matters. He’s oblivious to anybody else around him and by the time that he pretty much knocks my beer out of my hand, swinging the bass drum on his back like a snail on speed, Voodoo Rays music has long since ceased to matter.

Fortunately, things quickly take a turn for the better. There’s six, no make that seven, members of the Fake Turins crammed onto the Shacklewell stage but despite the tight fit they’re all more than aware of their personal space and role in the band. There’s no getting away from the Talking Heads comparisons here. Their lead vocalist takes the mantle of band leader in a manner reminiscent of David Byrne as he conducts the rest of the troupes through their funked-up art jams. Intuitively, they know when to build and when to fade. He takes a David Toop novel out of a jacket pocket and proceeds to read from it; the spoken word of the prose creating an effect not unlike that you’ll get from Bristolian stalwarts, The Blue Aeroplanes. Fake Turins are good and they know it; despite unnecessary interjections from recorder and cowbell, there’s more than enough bass, bongo and backing vocal to stop this from being a dud.

 

Tonight’s headliner, Tetine, are from Sao Paolo though I’m led to believe that they spend a fair bit of time in London these days. The duo of Bruno and Eliete originally present as a pretty traditional synth act with added bass. Full of beat and disco excess, they’re never anything but entertaining. Eliete leaves the keyboard to fend for itself and takes centre stage during Mata Hari voodoo, an early set-highlight that begins in contained control but ends with Eliete as a person possessed, speaking in tongues in squat position.

 

I don’t get to hear what the song title is but over the chorus of a disco-pop banger, the words ‘I was falling in love’ entices a couple in front of me, who are clearly in the first throes, to start dancing energetically. My smile is enduring.

Bruno’s bass is discarded with and Eliete again leaves the Roland running for Tetine’s very own ‘Beastie Boys’ moment. Lick my Favela is a Brazilian reworking of ‘Fight For Your Right’. It’s seedy and performed seductively. It’s only later that this correspondent realises that the Favela is not a body part but a slum area in Brazil. One suspects that there’s a political angle to this art and it’s not just a hedonistic party.

 

London’s given me another top night despite the slow start. I splash through the puddles on the way back to the Airbnb without a care in the world.