Our voices… very fucked up…

Well, that was fun.

A chance phone conversation and the mention of a bit of a do I’d forgotten about, and suddenly I’m at Smokey Joe’s in Cheltenham bearing grinning witness to a whole new chapter of outlandishness. Pop music, eh? A ghost train of surprises.

So Eppyfest is now in its 10^th year, and I’ll admit to being pretty ignorant of its existence at the start of the week. Everything seems to be fest-this and fest-that these days, but truth be told it was a lovely couple of evenings of eclectic music and good company. I can think of a couple of bands I’d like to do a post about… later… but the closing act have forced their grotesque beaming faces upon me.

They were quite a ride.

Mitsune

Mitsune are literally-speaking a Berlin quartet (two Japanese, an Australian and a Greek), but really nothing like that – they are a band steeped in Japanese traditional culture, trying to find ways of dealing with “expatriate life and its accompanying sense of displacement/otherness”. Actually, as they sauntered around the venue, mingling with the other musicians and punters, and decorating the stage with lotus blossoms and traditional instruments, they looked very Japanese. And when they came out to play in full stage costumes, they looked unequivocally oriental. In fact, when they came through the audience, there was a spontaneous ripple of applause. 

They wore white robes with Japanese characters sewed into them and had painted their faces, the women were also wearing elaborate head-dresses and stack-heeled boots, and carrying long-necked, three-stringed instruments (shamisen – look it up). There was a standup bass player and a fourth member who had surrounded himself with quite the selection of exotic percussion instruments. All four of them were decked in more lotus blossoms. They were fabulous looking creatures and it was quite the entrance – I feel they’ve set the bar very high for the next bands I see (no jeans, t-shirts or bandannas, please).

After a quick round of onstage whiskeys and a toast to the audience, they ripped into a set of fast-paced, odd, non-western music (although at times the bass player was a compassionate presence amongst the strange sounds and patterns). At first it sounded alien but very quickly the driving riffs of the twin shamisens and the sheer exuberance of the sound drew you in. At times the strings sounded like surf guitars and at others like daintily plucked banjos. It was all very exciting, and they were clearly having a blast. 

None of these words really do them justice, mind. Here, shot from my phone, a little video:

And true to form, they were ridiculously pleased to be there and enjoying their first experiences in the UK, this being their last date. Effusive in their gratefulness and overwhelmed by the response from an enthusiastic group of listeners, one of the singers summed it up in her broken English:

“And thank you so much for everyone, this our ending England tour and we are singing a lot, we are so much enjoying here and our voices that’s why very fucked up.”

There’s an album out, copies of which were being cheerfully signed at the merch store, and here’s a clip from it, from their Bandcamp site:

You know what to do.

Way better than I expected…

Greetings, fellow worker ants! 

Another summer is on its way, although a glance through the skylight reveals another scarcely seasonal, biblical downpour is upon us. Nonetheless, we’re almost at that time of year, when teachers across the land emerge hollow-eyed from their classrooms and signal their intentions to stuff themselves silly on the pleasures of the season. 

Wine will be drunk on makeshift terraces; ill-advised hobbies will be resurrected (for six weeks at least); cycling shorts will be worn. It’s a dizzying time for all concerned. And I predict one of my flimsy pledges will be to do more posts for this sadly neglected Blog. 

(No ifs, no buts, I’ll be judged on my pledges.)

I was going to start this off with a shimmering, authoritative post on Dutch stars, Personal Trainer but have decided against it for a number of reasons. “Not being arsed” was obviously one of these but actually the chief reason was that the writer’s muse is a will-o-the-wisp thing (I’m told) and my butterfly brain has already seen another sugary, overripe fruit fallen from the tree…

Peter Zummo

Who’s not up for a bit of ambient trombone? It’s a no-brainer, surely…

Having only recently discovered Gideon Coe’s shows, and then seen them sadly curtailed in the latest BBC restructuring, it’s a pleasure to see him ploughing on manfully, dignity intact and still introducing old lags like myself to records I couldn’t have dreamed of. This Peter Zummo record is one of these.

Watch this and tell me you’re not mesmerised: 

What a guy.

I’ve never heard of this man before but a quick skate around the Inter-waves tells me there’s plenty of joys to be discovered.

I’m very keen on the dubby touches around Zummo’s notes and am always grateful for the helpful guiding hands of a bassline and drums, but the main course is the deep rough-edged tones of Zummo’s trombone, managing to be both graceful and bulky at the same time. I’m always impressed by musicians that are happy not to play all the time, and there’s a lot of space around each phrase he plays.

“Space” and a surprising lightness of touch are definitely features of Deep Dive 2 +  but as it progresses, it develops into a harsh, austere listen at times with rasping drones and grating contributions from Guatemalan cellist Mabe Fratti and much-travelled violinist Peter Broderick. The beats that surface regularly and the prominence of the cello make you think immediately of Arthur Russell. And it’s not really a surprise to learn that Zummo and Russell were friends and collaborators. Here’s the beautiful “Song IV” from Lateral Pass:

I’ve got one more clip I’d like to share of Zummo playing live with support from a DJ. This is quite lengthy but utterly fascinating (bear with it, at first he just seems to be noodling along while someone else is playing records, but the eventual synch is great…)

C’mon summer! I’m ready!