Whether it’s a preference for Aberfeldy over Arab Strap, Rab C Nesbitt over Robert Louis Stevenson or queuing for Kashmir sweaters instead of Cash Converters, there is little doubt that the marked contrast between Glasgow and Edinburgh belies their relative proximity.
Tonight the Twilight Sad and Broken Records come together to remind London of the best of both, albeit with their respective landscapes nailed firmly to their sounds.
Not wasting any time in making a strong first impression, Broken Records launch into ‘Nearly Home’ - a four minute juggernaut driven by addictive violin and vocal melodies all the way to a climatic swathe of strings, horns and militant drums. On form like this it’s no surprise that by the time vocalist Jamie Sutherland sings “then you say, it’s alright” at the end of the band’s second offering, the crowd don’t need such reassurance. Cargo (for the next thirty minutes at least) is in capable hands.
And so it proves, with other highlights seeing BR storming through what-sounds like London’s first Balkan Ceilidh in ‘Good Reason’ before producing a Gypsy sea shanty that mixes the Eastern bloc folk of Beirut with the occasional venture into Jeff Buckley falsetto territory. As the emotive ‘Slow Parade’ draws things to a close, the pleasant sense of fulfillment felt by both crowd and band is evident in the entranced silence that greets the song’s stripped back midpoint. One guitar strums alone to the sound of mutual satisfaction, leading us gently towards the band’s final soaring, orchestral finale.
The Twilight Sad don’t do ‘pleasant sense of fulfillment’. Tonight their impact is more akin to a pint glass in the face (albeit a good one if that’s possible…a Staropramen perhaps). The cathartic walls of sound and tortured Glaswegian vocals that characterised acclaimed debut album ‘Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters’ are out in force, armed with an added ferociousness live. Indeed, listening to the sheer force of sprawling guitar and formidable low-end rumble of ‘Walking for Two Hours’ and ‘I’m Taking The Train Home’ it’s hard to believe that they’re the product of the relatively reserved bass/guitar/organ combo before your eyes.
It only serves to add impact to the arresting stage presence of frontman James Graham whose angular gyrations and manic grasp on the mic inherit the intensity of Ian Curtis. Such compulsive viewing ensures the crowd’s full attention when the band run through material from their recently-released ‘mini-album’ - a combination of new tracks and ‘off-the-cuff reworkings’ of songs from ‘Fourteen Autumns…’. Tonight’s set closer brings together the best of both releases. A storming version of ‘Cold Days From The Birdhouse’ begins with the sparse ambient drone of the alternate take before hitting a swift 180 midway through, dragging the track kicking and screaming back to its the album version’s monolithic chorus. As the band exit stage right amidst a whitewash of feedback, my minds made up on the destination of my next trip north - just remind me to pack ear plugs.
//Andrew McNicoll