This isn’t your usual gig, but since it might well be the only one that Falkirk has seen all year, the locals take what they can get. Thus, this benefit for Falkirk’s Woman’s Aid, takes place in the local Polish Club, whose Xmas decor turns out to be already in place with the red and white of their flag and their various crests and other paraphernalia mixing in nicely. The punters happily celebrate the traditions of the ex-pats by laying into the Lech beer.
The organisers have thought of everything – later some home-made pakora and samosas will go on sale alongside compilation CDs marking the event, and all for charity. They’ve also thoughtfully left some running orders on the tables, which sad to say are immediately inaccurate with proceedings starting late due to problems getting into the venue.
Not as late as myself – finding the venue the problem – so apologies to (consults lineup sheet) Sam Beaton, the opening act who we contrive to miss.
Looking down the sheet it becomes obvious that itm? at least shares the tastes of the organisers of this event – hardly surprising as co-host John Paul Mason is a regular contributor. He also put on an Edinburgh show featuring Davie Lawson which your writer missed, but tonight’s short set shows off what a great guitarist he is. And good songs to boot, making me wonder why he’s unknown here but big in Holland.
Warped Memories, next up, are quite low down the bill for a band often tipped for bigger things. Perhaps they’re keen to get back to the Borders reasonably early, however. Last time we saw them mainman Lewis was sporting a kilt this time not but they’re no less compelling, their slightly meandering lo-fi electronica bolstered by some smartly absorbing tunes.
JP compares Coriolis to a “Falkirk Pavement” (the Cow Wynd perhaps, he muses?). A fair call – they’re less less abstract than Malkmus & co partly down to the more straightforward beats. Provided by 2 drummers, though anyone on the right of the audience may not have realised this as the band are squeezed onto the tiny stage. Anyway, a band well worth their 15 minutes (which is the rough running time as the attempt to cram in 14 bands into 4 hours gathers pace).
Action Group are largely unrecognisable, but every time I see hem live they sound different. This time there’s only 3 members doing a largely acoustic set, so it’s surprising that they have slight problems hearing themselves. AThe tentative start is forgotten and forgiven with third and final number ‘Broken Window’ – it’s immense, wound up by tight harmonies and the 3 guitarists strumming with great gusto.
Jocky Venkataraman from what I recall isn’t always playing for laughs, but opener ‘Newton Mearns’ – which seems to sport the line “Crookfur – ha ha ha” is just a taster for the shambolic cover of ‘500 Miles’ which, if the Reid Twins were dead, would have them rather than contenting themselves with spinning in their graves, coming back to haunt Jocky for the rest of his years.
It’s a night of contrasts, and Broken Records are perhaps the opposite to the act which precedes them with their beautifully constructed tunes. Opposite to much of tonight in fact – there’s 7 of them rammed on the stage, and that seems to indicate hell for the soundman. No, nothing of the sort – it’s a mini-set of spectacular, anthemic tunes.
There’s an opportunity to claw back 1 minutes from a running order which is spiraling out of control – Zoey Van Goey can’t appear (oddly, they have played the Polish Club before, doing a set with co-host, author Alan Bisset).
So, it’s St Jude’s Infirmary next, and their sound is again slightly iffy perhaps due to a lack of onstage monitors (with the Xmas tree onstage there’s little room for such fripperies). So again it’s the 3rd and final number – ‘Tacoma Radar’ which provides a mighty climax which can probably be heard in Stenhousemuir.Glasgow trio Endor are jangly and slightly angular, and the ‘j’ word means they are automatically tarred with the Postcard brush. It’s a big brush, mind, but they’re definitely at the Orange Juice end of that spectrum, with plenty of pop potential.
Billy Bates is another former itm? show veteran, though he’s truly solo this time, his regular percussionist absent. That doesn’t make his short any less absorbing – Bates is a virtuoso, my pigeonhole for him marked “Youssou n’Dour possessed by Thom Yorke”. The bloke beside me makes a similar comparison and chatting after that set it turns out that he runs a studio and we swapped weblinks 10 years ago. Small world – it seems that the entire Falkirk indie scene (apart from world-conquering Malcolm Middleton) is here tonight.
Ross Clark is entertaining me for the first time and would be a great addition to any bill due to his large stage presence and crowd banter. And, aside from his cheery bouncily acoustic tunes, also posesses a great, powerful voice – indeed, he hardly needs a mike at all.
sixpeopleaway are, as it turns out, local lads doing good – Alistair is, like Ross before him, in very strong voice which fills the wee room, and the three tunes for the duo are, seriously, as fine a mini-collection that any band anywhere could produce.
It’s noticeable that all the headliners are local lads – possibly because they’re less likely to want to get off home early. Co-host and author Alan Bisset bucks the trend for music by giving us a sneak preview from his forthcoming book – which, by public vote, will now be called ‘Death of A Ladies Man’ (the public have spoken, it seems). All entertaining stuff as his meandering introduction suggests that a side-career in standup might beckon.
So, we’re down to the final straight, and organisers Y’all Is Fantasy Island have bitten the bullet – the curfew means that their set will be even shorter than the planned 15 minutes. However, ‘With Handclaps’ with its stirring guitar line and of course, audience participation, is a fitting climax. The success of the show has sparked talk of a repeat (perhaps with fewer acts!) next year. Hopefully Falkirk won’t have to wait quite as long for its next live gig.
more photos from Winter’s Love on Flickr, credit: Andrew McKenna