Good (Friday) Times with Panda Bear

Noah Lennox passed me on his way across the pelican crossing in Brixton. Hood up and inconspicuous simply blending with the comings and going of South London. In some ways Noah Lennox takes this on to the stage tonight. There is an effortless in his performance as he creates a psychedelic electronic storm through repetition, clipped beats and sonic dissonance.  There is no real interaction with the crowd until the end and little after the encore. Whilst in front of us and clearly central to all proceedings Panda Bear seems larger than his lone figure. The whole performance commanded from his workbench of electronic wizardry knits with the huge LED screens positioned either side and behind to present Panda Bear as something futuristic and otherworldly.

Today is Good Friday and Panda Bear is back in London to celebrate the release of Buoys at the Electric Ballroom in Brixton. After a thorough search on the door I make my way in to the venue – it’s dimly lit and blurred. It does not have the same vibrations as last year at the Village Underground in Shoreditch. The crowd slowly fills up for this early start – Panda Bear will start at 8.30. Early evening electronics for the soul served up for this diverse and disparate crowd who have found themselves in South London. There are Americans of all shapes and sizes, young emo kids, multicultural hipsters,  a couple from Scotland, a young guy who’d travelled from California and healthy LGBT+ mixing as one for the sounds of one man and one part Animal Collective.

Noah arrives without fanfare and checks his instruments before we check his track record. (Check the record – check the guy’s track record)  Plugging in headphones and turning things on there is a sudden burst of the opening of ‘My Girls’. He can’t possibly be teasing us?  It stops and that snatch is all we will hear. Yet in many ways Panda Bear’s brand of electronica is captured in that phrase. He deals in repetition and distortion, out of chaos and never ending reverb emerges beauty and fragility with supersonic bass shaking stomps to unite the floor as one nation under a (digital) groove.  Tonight we are mainly treated to the delights of Panda Bear’s last two wonderful records, the vinyl only release ‘A Day with the Homies’ and the new long player ‘Buoys’.  Through a harmony fuelled opening of simple keyboard drone emerges ‘Dolphin’ with its water drop beats and robotic vocal codas as Noah intones that he is ‘gonna switch of the screen – unblinded’ as the visuals power up behind and at his sides in what will be a profound light and video accompaniment throughout the show. Frazzled dancers, liquid drops and pulsating static merge with op art lines and symmetry and lysergic dreams and nightmarish grins as all that is solid melts into air (well light – but you knew where I was going?) throughout the whole set. They do not detract but add to the chemistry as we are exposed to the finer moments of his recent work, Dolphins becomes ‘Nod to the Folks’ and the set lists switches between the new album and its previous release.

Then within the inter song sound swathes comes the familiar strains of ‘Comfy in Nautica’. Where it started for me. Person Pitch was my first encounter with Panda Bear and I instantly fell for its Beach Boy wonk and skronk. As Noah urged us to ‘try to remember always, always to have a good time’ it struck me how wonderful a lyricist he is. Songs are constructed and delivered with words that hint at situations of danger, confront confusions and question it all. Panda bear is a wonderful singer his range and fearlessness in moving through scales and tones to create the most effective sonic delivery of any other singer currently on the scene surely deserves wider exposure. He’s a harmony group in one. A pocket sized Beach B Buoy. Words delivered in harmony with himself should be heard by more people and its evident that tonight isn’t quite the sell out I had expected. The top part of the venue is closed yet it doesn’t result in a lacklustre performance despite the early start.

Panda Bear continues to craft the tunes with a nod to his tussle with the Grim Reaper as he plays only one number from that album tonight in the form of ‘Crosswords’. The songs from ‘Buoys’ are greeted with cheers and yelps and even some air fist pumps (there was a guy from Chicago there – he dug it maaaan). ‘Token’ with its repetitive motif of guitar and soaring climax of longing as Noah repeats ‘ I want to tell you that I want you’ is astounding in it’s simplicity but delivered through a clear full on PA hits you hard and right in the gut. I was wondering how the sparseness of ‘Buoys’ wuld play out in a larger venue as I’d spent most of my time with this long player in isolation and headphones. The album has this return to  the ‘real’ but its cut up samples of guitars mixed with the open and honest recording of Noah up close felt incredible personal in its approach. It stills feels incredibly personal up close tonight even with jutaxposed visuals and full on volume. Buoys is a tough one. It can hold its own when turned up loud. 

Panda Bear is a tough buoy.

As the set builds to the final song we are treated to a new number as yet not released, ‘Playing the Long Game’. In its heavy bass and repetitive beats Panda Bear is forever reinventing and representing sound in his time away from Animal Collective. His work is truly original and uncluttered by the modern yet by its very existence repositions itself as the most modern and urgent music being made in the 21^st Century. As if Van Dyke Parks and AFX collaborated whilst Eno recorded the results.

Panda Bear thanks us for coming, thanks us for listening and thanks the support band and is gone. Lights power down. And we begin to clap and shout.

There is a fleeting return. 

Two songs. One from Tomboy, a sublime ‘Last Night of The Jetty’ with its beats turned to sledgehammer blows as Lennox asks ‘didn’t we have a good time?’  Followed by the bowel quaking ear wrecking sub bass bombing of ‘Sunset’. The crowd moves in unison, tripped and blissed out as sonics merge with soul and we all feel uplifted.  

Then Panda Bear is gone.

I don’t believe in God. I do believe in Panda Bear. It had been a Good Friday.





Panda Bear's site can be found here: https://pandabearofficial.com/

Here is Comfy from Nautica from the evening: courtesy of Lucas Moreira



Here is the video to 'Token' from 'Buoys' 

The death and possible rebirth of pop: Animal Collective in hip London times.

I can't think how music actually exists these days. None of it makes sense. I think the time is right for bailing out. I don't actually understand it anymore. It's beyond me. I tried getting a handle on it and then it kind of fell away. There's too much out there - it just rings and sings and buzzes and fuzzes and i don't get it anymore. I don't know where to start listening and hearing - i don't know what I like anymore. You can stream this and that - you can start here and here and end up there - you can't settle for long enough to just listen. 

And then you can't write because some fucker is putting it up with samples and soundscapes - podcasts and v-logs - I haven't time for all of that

I just wanted to write, about bands that moved me - but it isn't enough - in a stream of making this pay for that and that 

I ended up at The Troxy this week ( or last week) I was there to see Animal Collective - I'm a fan of Panda Bear really - but fell in love with the electronic analogue hub and rub of the collective along the way. I wasn't a fan way back then - but i am now - post post merriweather and all that. 

So i arrived - all excited - Painting with being one of the best things I've heard this year - in a while to be honest (bar anything related to Euros Childs - because - well he's kind of it really - absolutely guaranteed to affect and effect in this house) The Animal Collective animal truly is a work of wonder and fun - all switched harmony and playfulness - pop and psychedelic in the truest form. 

So I arrive - rushed and unkempt - late afternoon meetings about this and that rolling still in my mind - grab (my coat - grab my hat) a sausage roll from Sainsburys - i live off pork - animal selective maaaaaaaan.  Eventually getting to the change of venue - pack them all in on one night only (the Bush was closed) and made my way upstairs - unrestricted - but difficult to hold down a seat when you're on your own - which is pretty much the case these days in rock venues - in any venue really - i don't talk much - it all comes out on here - in here - another beer? 

Which brings me to this. 

A band from the stable of PC Music - the pin up star or some such shit GTOFY - opening - supporting - or ruining the night before the collective came and semi- saved the idea that music is something to fucking care about.  You see - I don't fucking get it anymore - this Verrucae Salt on crack routine - this Aqua meets the Chipmunks thing - this being taken the piss out of thing. This is not cutting edge - ironic - we can say racist things and just laugh it off - this is the fuckers who Jarvis fucking warned us about now making music. They don't even pretend to mix with the common people. Cameron's fucking daughters - this isn't some fucker with dreads dabbling in reggae - this is cunts with trust funds making a mockery of all that came before - they are despised - not misunderstood - absolutely despised - and when Avey Tare gave it the big shout out - part of me couldn't really give a fuck anymore. 

I have gone beyond my limits. I have had enough. 

But to do justice to the beauty of Animal Collective - I will write this down. I know I'll write again - but it's kind of an audience of one. To be honest if it's today's pop pickers reading this - they wouldn't get past the first paragraph - they'd want this post as an Instagram pic with filters or some such shit. 

But for now I'll try and recall the beauty and wonder of Animal Collective - an inventive and resourceful band of lysergic experimenters and adventurers. Arriving to greets and whoops Animal Collective settled behind banks of electronic cables and dials and faders and keys - alongside a drummer too - he was a little higher up beating majestic time and rhythm to the sonic tinkering down below - Panda Bear on the left (audience wise) Avey on the right and Geologist right in the middle - headlight on and easily spotted. 

Opening with Natural Selection their set slowly grew into a shimmering bleep and harmony monster - controlled and indulgent but appropriate and exciting all rolled into one. At first I wasn't sure how the building was holding up to the sound theatrics - whether the vocals were drowning the melody but slowly and surely they started to meld into one organic thumping beast of a pure pop experience - an animal in itself. Blending skillful harmonic interplay with machines - a soul driven electronic pop workshop - pushing musicality and redefining the pop experience. The majority of the set was drawn from 'Painting with' - a long player that has caused some fuss online in comment sections under videos - I think it's absolutely sublime - well realised - less prog noodles and over introspection. It's a new pop statement for a time when pop has pretty much died ( Christ- I witnessed that in the choice of support - i know I should get over it - but I think i'm scarred)  

As they drop Golden Gal - I'm twitching and a rocking in my seat ( I was high up - it happens at my age) - a song with a sonic thump and squelch - radiating through the wonderful setting of The Troxy - coupled with a set of carved faces and projections and pulsing lights - it's clear that Animal Collective want you to have an experience. And if truth be a told an experience was had - so different to their recordings as songs emerge and sounds becoming melodies and voices begin to rise and rasp over this sampled electronic back beat (and boy do they use it) 

And out of this futurism emerges a nod to the past - Jimmy Mack - all covered in reverb and rhythm as Avey sends out a melancholic message of loss - of hope that maybe Jimmy might come back.  There are nods to the past elsewhere as well - older tracks from Feels and Post Merriweather Pavilion sit comfortably in this pure electronic handling of all material - this band has no guitars - they are not needed now. 

Perhaps they never were. 

It's interesting how all this looks - Geologists nodding - Avey whooping and being lost in the moment  ( kind of like a possessed music teacher) and the Panda Bear holding his mic - in what seems like a nervous disposition until his voice soars and swoops in (endless) harmony with Tare's deeper tones.  I know you're not meant to mention the Beach Boys - but that's why I rate them - they push the relationship with music and voice and that in my opinion this deserves to be discussed in the realms of a post Beach Boys age.  It really is The Orb meets Wilson 20,000 leagues up in the sky. Repetitive melody and heartbreaking harmony. I love it and it nearly restored my belief in the power of sound to change the world.  Nearly. 

And then after The Burglars - they are gone. There's been lots of wonder and awe on between. But for now they leave the stage. Not for long. Lights kick in - they assemble in that slacker Kraftwerk manner and offer us Daily Routine into Alvin Row ( a song from years and years ago) updated for the masses - who respond with rapture and cheer. 

Finally - the beat begins to kick in and those Floridada sounds emerge - a song so instantly catchy that as I depart the crowds are simply humming and singing - unknowingly - unwittingly - because it just lodges in the brain and whirls around and around. 

It's a fitting end to the evening - the song captures the sonic thrill of this collective mining of pop - it's irresistible - filled with hooks - veers into psychedelia and still remains of the past, present and future. 

Which is pretty much what Animal Collective do. 

They are all past, present and future. They are not ironic. They don't preach or try to challenge preconceptions - they make music. 

They make music with heart and soul.

They are a wonderful band to have in these dark times. 

Here is a great performance from 6music - it will get right inside your brains.

I wrote for luck - they sent me you

All documentary programmes about Manchester will discuss the pivotal moment The Happy Mondays and The Stone Roses played Top of the Pops. They will argue how it redefined the centre of pop – how it re-presented the working class as saviours of music – how it broke boundaries and fuelled dreams.

In Scunthorpe on that Thursday 23rd November, 1989 we had a power cut.

The North East were not witness to this seismic shift.

We did not yet have that Madchester feeling

There was a time when the Happy Mondays were seen as the bottom of the heap, the underbelly of the working class – drug dealing rough youth with fried eyes and crazy dancing.  Compare that to the real misspent working class of today  – the uneducated and illiterate- this cultureless mob that is shat on a daily basis.

The Mondays look like fucking professors – do you get me?

It’s been a week or so since I saw them – the show – at Brixton Academy a revisit of Pills, Thrills and Bellyaches – plus a couple of other classics thrown in. It was excellent. Just so you know – if you weren’t there. I’ve written about Ryder somewhere back in the past – all explaining his impact on pop culture and how his lyric flair and rhythm are worthy of study and this and that. I mean it maaaaan.  Sometimes pop transcends its boundaries – sometimes we can transcend our boundaries.

I’m writing this in south London – after an hour of idiocy and inarticulate mutterings. I worry about the working class – perhaps it’s because they don’t have Top of the Pops anymore – we are fractured and disparate – no commonality or shared experience.

Back then – when the spirit of 86 had manifested into 89 and beyond  - all tribes and outlooks had come together – learnt from one another – listened and lifted the spirits – community and action were up for grabs – discussion alongside hedonism and dirty mags. The Happy Mondays emerged with a rawness and authenticity - so sadly lacking in the independent scene of today - that took the breath away. This was not a typical NME band - but they had to cover them - they had to write about their fried funk - Parliament meets the Velvets by a route taking in John Denver - TB303s - disco and freaky dancin'.

It’s an odd venue the Academy – considering what’s its seen in rock n roll excess it feels a little faded these days.  It looked like it could do with a lick of paint and some 'shake n vac' on the carpet.  It looked like it could do with a new lease of life.

And here were the Mondays – looking like they'd had a new lease of life – alive and with it – on it and surviving.  Clean living in dirty times. This was no haggard run through of past glories – it was putting it right back out there and making people remember why Ryder and Bez are actually celebrities. This wasn’t about ‘effs and jeffs’ on TV shows or political musings in Manchester. It was the music that made the paaarrrttty – and these are no jesters – working class freak shows – they are the talent – the raw fucking ingredients of a funked up childhood and living life excessively and expressively.

It’s straight into the Thrills, Pills and Bellyaches anthems – beginning with Kinky Afro - Rowetta literally whipping up the crowd and Bez commanding the mad proceedings - so pivotal to all that is the Mondays. Without him they'd still be a wonderful band of brothers - with him they are future funk muthas - a juggernaut of pop party arriving in your town.

At one point Ryder reminds us that this would be point when you turned the record over. That slight pause - getting your breath back and then on with the party. They really are tight - no updates of the tunes- played as there were written - tight and discordant house funk freak sounds - wonderful. Inevitably the place errupts when the band launch into Step On - all fake maraca shakes and moves as Bez conducts up front. He looks great - it's great when you're straight - oh yeah. We are twisting our melons - we are talking so hip - we are with the Mondays - on their ship and they are guiding us ever higher and to happy climes.We are existing in Harmony - right here in the confines of a faded concert venue - but this is no faded band.

And then they are gone. But not for long. Emerging to the shouted Higher - Hallujah chants - we are happy for Shaun William Ryder to lie down beside us and fill us full of junk. He may not have been sent to save us - but itsurely feels like it. The Mondays articulate the possibilities that were there for the taking back then - combining fun with fulfilment. They were never really gone work for the man - but the sure helped those stuck in factories escape from him.  Finally - they end with Wrote for Luck - I can't describe how much that tune was a revelation then and still stands strong now - like this band - still standing strong.

A long may that continue.

What with The Mondays, Black Grape and a Shaun William Ryder album on the horizon it seems that all that premature talk of rocks and lost form was merely that - all talk - SWR and Bez and band are made of much sterner stuff. He breezed through the jungle and Bez made that stint in the house look like a stay at a holiday camp. These men were built to last and deserve the recognition and appreciation that some of the other 'baggy' groups still get.

I wrote for luck and they sent me you.

Here are the Mondays doing what they do best - enjoy 

A little bit of roogie boogie on a Sunday

This concert kind of rushed up on me - a sudden posted video and tour dates - Euros Childs was coming to town again. It had been a busy weekend - up to the Forum on Friday - birthday walks and meals (I was cooking not celebrating - I mean I was celebrating but it wasn't my birthday) on Saturday and then here - back in the heart of the city on a Sunday evening. Summer sun fading and a grin on my face - I was heading to The Lexington for another dose of that roogie boogie magic (and it is magic he weaves - with his merry men and woman - real magic)

I hadn't had a chance to listen to Sweetheart - released on the Friday - you can get it from The National Elf himself if you want - so some of this set was going to be like the first time I saw him (you) - unknown set lists and tunes - which added an edge of anticipation for me - not necessarily for Euros Childs and the band - they knew what was coming. 

But I didn't and it was a blast.

There's a certain sweeping charm to the whole affair - 8pm Oh Peas! plays - all chords and words - gentle and humourous - a girl and a guitar - cutting and tender - whilst various members of the Euros gang - mingle and pace - drink tea and get the errands out the way.  

I think I've seen Euros now about eight times - now that's a fair amount of times in my book - I once followed The Cure over most of England with my brother - I didn't backcomb my hair - I was getting into Spaceman 3 to be honest - but that was different - we were young. My brother has now taken to following PINS around - I'm sticking to Euros - he just has that pull about him - a merry prankster - a simple guy with simple songs - but oh my there's so much more than that.

So here he is - new recording in the bag - recorded in a week in his parent's place - and now Euros is on the road - with a full band again to play to people who appreciate that sort of thing - and there are a lot of us. We fill The Lexington up - we are a throng - a mixed bag - eclectic - like these roogie boogie warriors. Stage set up - conversations had with two fifths of the group (Stu Kidd and Marco Rea of The Wellgreen, Dr Cosmos's Tape Lab, Poundstore Riot, and BMX Bandits fame - you should be buying all their records too)

Euros arrives on stage all nervous legs and tics - green t-shirt and jeans (there used to be a feature in J17 - a teenage girl's mag - I used to read it in my cousin's house up in Scotland - it had piece about how much your fashion cost that you were wearing  - they took pictures in the street - I can't help costing out my outfit every time I go out - I had planned on asking Euros what his outfit would have cost - in my head I thought that would be a good opening interview question - you come up with these type of ideas when crossing the river - South to North)

Anyway he launches into Horse Riding - this band are on fire. He's not really easy to classify - to me it's straight forward rock n roll - yes we have that psychedelic thing, that folk thing, that krautrock repetition thing - but he keeps it wrapped up in rock n roll - not all leather jackets and spitting - but performance - integrity and show - like Elvis did - like Jerry Lee Lewis keeps doing - with a slight nod to Little Richard (it's all in the show)

The set continues with a healthy selection from Sweetheart - Fruit and Veg - Julia Sky - Sweetheart and Lady Caroline - and you can see the pleasure it brings - an album recorded in a week - with a band - and what a new long player it is. I don't know where he finds the melodies - perhaps it's being in his parent's place - where the album was recorded - but he just keeps churning out these pop beauties for us all - ones that keep us smiling through winter.

At one point Euros tells us that touring from city to city has resulted in the invention of a  game called 'who's on the plane?' A sort of reversal of the Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, Big Bopper disaster (you know when the music died) whereby you can chose the artists who are on it (the plane) in the likelihood it's going down (there should be an app for that - I'd download it) 

Euros tells us that Dave Stewart has firmly booked his place on that plane.

Harmonies and riffs - Euros states the simple feeling of feeling love - of feeling overwhelmed or underwhelmed - both rejected and welcomed - hugged and shunned in tales of happiness and woe (sometimes with a ghost check out Lady Caroline) And the set continues to build with ( despite contractual show business stops for Laura J Martin whose adding flute and mandolin sparingly but as always effectively tonight) further musical explorations of love and feelings.

We get Billy and the sugar loaf Mountain - and the layering of voices is sublime - and an audience sing a long of Daddy's Girl ( we may have out sung Wales) before a stormer of  song called Bycycle of Bees - which may be an old one - it may be a new one - it's most definitely a good one. Building and building as Marco's guitar screeches and wails in walls of sound. It's that psychedelic thing again. A band connecting and taking you somewhere else.

Followed by Heywood Lane - which I'd been singing all week. And then a rip-roaring Roogie Boogie to round the night off. But we (the audience that is) we're not ready to go home - we clap - we chant - we want more. (We might not see him for a year). A cheeky call out for the whole of Miracle Inn - but instead we get Tete a Tete and a wonderful full band Spin that Girl Around. And then they are gone.  Well not gone - Euros is up and off to sell the sounds - from his stand at the back of the room.

He captures human emotions for me

He captures feeling alive

It is evident that he has not taken a Dave Stewart angle to any of this pop making process.

Thank fuck.  We can buy Dave Stewart - or DS as we call him round here (infact it's a little known fact the Nintendo DS actually refers to Dave Stewart - but that's another story) a ticket for the first seat on the 747 - that's a big plane - we can all think of other passengers. 

Euros Childs will not be on that plane.

You can be certain of that. 

Sweetheart is available at The National Elf website

And here is Machine (off the new album - and live at The Lexington) 

Thanks to seajohnster for posting this to YouTube