Brand New UK tour 2012: YouTube highlights

Sic Transit Gloria... Glory Fades/Okay I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don't (Manchester Academy, 09/02/12)



Favourite moments in this: "They should've played 'Tautou' before that" and, of course, "you can't even hear Jessie" during the first verse of 'Okay'... when he's standing with his arms folded, BLATANTLY NOT SINGING.

Sowing Season (Yeah) (Manchester Academy, 09/02/12)



Soco Amaretto Lime (Camden Roundhouse, London, 11/02/12)



Moshi Moshi (Newcastle O2 Academy, 16/02/12)



Flying At Tree Level (Version 1.0) (Camden Roundhouse, London, 12/02/12)



Mix Tape (Camden Roundhouse, London, 12/02/12)



Seventy Times Seven (Camden Roundhouse, London, 11/02/12)



Me Vs Maradona Vs Elvis (Newcastle O2 Academy, 16/02/12)



The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows (Southampton Guildhall, 10/02/12)



Play Crack The Sky (Camden Roundhouse, London, 12/02/12)



Degausser (Camden Roundhouse, London, 11/02/12)



You Won't Know (Camden Roundhouse, London, 12/02/12)

Brand New UK tour review (Manchester, Southampton, London, Newcastle)

BRAND NEW (with THE XCERTS, I AM THE AVALANCHE), Manchester Academy 09/02/12, Southampton Guildhall 10/02/12, London Roundhouse 11/02 and 12/02/12, Newcastle O2 Academy 16/02/12

Following a band’s tour can be something of a sobering experience; watching as the same four or five musicians toil away night after night on a series of identikit stages, pouring out their hearts and souls to thousands of overeager fans in a variety of different cities, can have the undesired effect of depleting the show of its magic. What may appear to be a once-in-a-lifetime performance, aided and abetted by a lively, energetic crowd, quickly snaps into focus when it’s followed by an identical experience the night after; we’re all guilty of hoping that the show we’re getting, in our home town, is better than what has gone before, that we’re getting that little something extra so we can trot out the “I was there”s in a few years time when the gig has passed into the annals of rock history. And of course, this hope, this belief, is inevitably quashed when, after two or three more shows, you realise that it’s all just part of the act. That these are guys and girls like you and I, doing their jobs night after night, with the added bonus of loving every minute.

Thankfully, following Brand New as they trudge the length and breadth of Great Britain is nothing like that at all. Somehow, some way, the Long Island five (sometimes six) piece make every successive show feel like their last, like this is the most important gig they’ve played in the fifteen years since their formation. And they do it with such monumental gusto, sweating energy and aggression from every pore, that every city is magical, every 100 minutes makes you feel like there is nowhere else on this Earth you’d rather be, that there are no other words you’d rather be screaming at the top of your voice and that there is no other band you’d rather watch annihilate the fuck out of their own music.

This determination and intensity creeps into the marrow of the support bands’ bones too: Aberdeen three piece The Xcerts are on fire every night, delivering a deliciously intense thirty minutes of highlights from Scatterbrain, their most recent release (plus, let’s not forget, In the Cold Wind We Smile favourite Do You Feel Safe? as an opener), with a brilliantly visceral, yet impressively catchy, new tune thrown in for good measure. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Brand New’s fanbase take to them instantly and copies of their frankly bloody excellent albums are seen clutched tight in hands as the venues empty. It’s the same set each night – at the band’s own admission during the two successive London shows – and it’s arguable that it could do with a few more from Smile, but this is a minor quibble. New Yorkers I Am The Avalanche, meanwhile, do get round to changing one or two tracks in their eight-song set, although they rely rather heavily on pre-established set pieces, such as Vinnie relating the same tale about metaphorically burying his girlfriend each night. Their show speaks for itself, however, with a superbly crafted amalgam of songs from recent release Avalanche United and their eponymous debut working together in perfect harmony to produce a blistering half hour of purest punk rock thrills, with the closing trio of New York Dodgers, Gratitude and I Took A Beating a particular highlight.

And then, of course, there is the main event. Sauntering onstage every night at 9.20pm sharp with absolutely no fanfare whatsoever, casting bombast to the wayside, Brand New warm themselves up for their two hour odyssey with a vicious Welcome to Bangkok, – or, in the case of their second night at the Roundhouse, Tautou – the eerie minor chords emanating from Vinnie’s acoustic guitar slowly giving way to ear-splitting feedback and two sets of almightily crashing drums. It’s the perfect opener, setting the tone for the evening, and before long, we’re careering through a further series of highlights from 2007’s The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me, Jesse risking destroying his vocal chords every night during a brutal, unforgiving Sowing Season and giving his adoring crowds the opportunity during an anthemic, soaring Millstone. In a shrewd move, the band bookend the show with tracks from this record, throwing the crowd-pleasers and golden oldies together in the middle of the set, suggesting a quietly assured confidence in their own material. Frankly, it’s a confidence that’s well deserved; you only need to listen to the first few seconds of Jesus Christ, with that gorgeous, lilting riff, or the aggressive middle eight of a heartwrenchingly melancholic Limousine, to realise their inherent genius. The Devil and God is undoubtedly Brand New’s greatest work and it only grows in stature when the songs are given more space to breathe in a live setting.

And of course, having now had more than a decade of experience, the band breathe whole new life into their older material too, with perennial fan favourites from 2001’s Your Favourite Weapon benefitting from a more studied, yet heavier, sound. Pleasingly, for all it is apparent that Jesse and co. have outgrown songs about teenage jealousy and heartache, they still give emo big-hitters Jude Law and a Semester Abroad and Seventy Times Seven an airing during every night of the tour, and, perhaps more importantly than that, invest 110% in them, guitarists leaping around the stage, Jesse goading on the riotous masses. Predictably, audiences respond in kind, moshpits swirling in unison, bodies flying overhead, particularly at Manchester’s Academy 1 and the Roundhouse in London. There’s a superb solo rendition of Soco Amaretto Lime too, a significant proportion of which Jesse barely has to sing as his fans do it for him. He adjusts the final line to a poignant “I’m just jealous cos you’re young and in love”, eliciting a standing ovation in every city. It’s a humble move, underlining the feeling that the band are playing for rather than at us; in Manchester, Jesse states that they’re over here because they love playing, not because they have a record to promote, and in Newcastle, he personally thanks everyone who has given up an evening of the life to see them on tour, stating that they’ve had the fortune to “play to some of the best audiences we’ve ever had”. It’s a sweet gesture – one far removed from what the media might have you expect from the band – and it’s one that leads to a few pleasant, spur-of-the-moment surprises, such as Jesse throwing a once-in-a-blue-moon solo run through of Moshi Moshi into the set at Newcastle, or, indeed, the changing of more than half of the set at the second Roundhouse date, with Guernica, The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot, Mix Tape and Flying at Tree Level (of all things) replacing some of the more standard tracks.

It’s a few of the staples that provide the finest moments, however. The brain-meltingly intense Vices/Sink combo nearly blows the roof off during Roundhouse night one; Southampton goes batshit crazy during Sic Transit Gloria... Glory Fades; Manchester sings the entire first verse of Okay I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don’t on its own (that’s a whole minute, folks) and Jesse just smiles on, arms folded; and the brilliantly visceral closing duo of Degausser and You Won’t Know descends into an orgy of unparalleled insanity and destruction in Newcastle, with Jesse throwing one guitar around like a crash test dummy and then strapping on a second and playing/abusing both simultaneously, Vinnie trashing his bass and then setting about the second drumkit and Brian collapsing headfirst into his kit after Jesse launches one of the two guitars at him, sending cymbals, hi hats and snares tumbling down onto the stage. And there really is no discerning between the performances. It would be unfair to rate one city against another as each show is filled with the same level of intensity, each night brings its own litany of highlights. Suffice to say, these 100 minutes are some of the finest that the good people of Manchester, Southampton, London and Newcastle will ever experience; these shows may well be some of the best the band ever play; and right now, at the top of their game, Brand New are quite probably the best live performers on the planet. If you missed out this round, buy yourself tickets for all of the dates on the next tour. You will not be disappointed. We promise.

Live review: Frightened Rabbit, Glasgow Stereo, 21/01/12

FRIGHTENED RABBIT, Stereo, Glasgow (21/01/12)

Frightened Rabbit are wounded pups tonight. Seven days ago, when they announced a trio of impromptu shows in Scotland's principal cities, all in venues smaller than George Osbourne's conscience, to provide the hardcore with a chance to hear material from their forthcoming fourth record for the very first time, they probably thought they were doing a good deed. Certainly, demand was high enough; this evening's show in the brilliantly ramshackle blink-and-you'll-miss-it Stereo sold out in three minutes, and queues for the Edinburgh and Aberdeen equivalents were, quite frankly, massive. Frabbits were chomping at the bit at the chance to sample the follow-up to 2010's phenomenal The Winter of Mixed Drinks... so much so, it seems, that a certain group of money-grabbing, grandstanding promoters saw an opportunity to exploit the fuck out of them.

Yes, two nights prior, at the 'burgh's Cabaret Voltaire, fans were initially told that tickets would only be available on the door. Then the venue sold 200 online. Those that were patient were told that there were 200 more available on the door. Not so, it seems. Voltaire sold all available tickets on the web and then allowed 200 more in on the night, only to direct them to an upstairs room where they were permitted to watch the performance on a television screen. When Frightened Rabbit became aware of this travesty, they promptly severed ties with the promoters, vowed never to play the venue again and gave a special acoustic performance for those who had been duped.

In all, then, a bit of a shambles. While they arguably did their level best in awful circumstances, some fans remained upset with the band for not doing anything about this sooner. Cue many apologetic tweets, Facebook messages and the like and a brief mention just prior to this evening's performance. Undoubtedly, Frightened Rabbit have been hurt by events and have something extra to prove; but still, with a triumphant show in Aberdeen yesterday under their belts and 290 rabid hometown devotees before them, this should surely be a no-brainer, right? Well, of course. Predictably, the atmosphere is electric from the off; as the pile-driving ferocity of new track Holy (we're reading solely from the setlist here guys, doubtless this is an abbreviation!) ricochets around the room, eyes gaze intently in awe, minds focused prominently on the intricacies in this most four-to-the-floor of tracks, feet and hips helplessly tapping and swaying to the unfamiliar beat. It's a response that comes to characterise the evening, each apologetically-delivered debut receiving as rapturous a response as the most well known of tracks. It helps that there are some absolute corkers in the bunch: Boxing is a beautiful ode to the lethargy and self-pity that may follow a break-up, all cracked vocals and discordant guitars, while Oil Slick is probably the most monstrous four minutes written about the release of a liquid petroleum hydrocarbon, well, ever.

All of this bodes exceptionally well for that eagerly anticipated fourth LP, due for release (hopefully) sometime late in 2012; that every single one of these tracks sits snugly next to the older material but nevertheless manages to remain fiercely independent suggests that Frightened Rabbit aren't willing to rest on their laurels... and we should all be extremely excited about what that may mean for a new release. Tellingly, this fervor seeps through into their performance too. There's a restlessness about the band tonight, an inescapable passion that resonates from every corner of the stage, filling Scott and Grant particularly with an energy that infects everyone else in the venue. Scott scrunches his eyes and sings his heart out during a pitch-perfectly poignant My Backwards Walk, while Grant seems to play every song as if it's his last, hammering seven shades of shite out of his poor drumkit and nearly setting about the front row after a messy, fierce Square 9, screaming at all and sundry.

It's a thrilling experience and one that provides that all-important extra ingredient to proceedings. Tonight, these songs are 'wee beasties' (to namecheck an alcopop), leaping from the stage and pummeling your frontal lobes with deliciously impish glee. Glasgow loves every minute, out-singing the band on countless occasions, but particularly during The Loneliness and the Scream (the refrain of which all 290 men and women continue to sing at the tops of their voices while the band are backstage prior to the encore) and the soaring, epic finale that is Keep Yourself Warm. A jovial Old Old Fashioned, intense Living in Colour and playful Swim Until You Can't See Land are also highlights, the latter featuring a three minute drone in its middle 8 just for the hell of it. By show's end, all thoughts of 'The Edinburgh Incident' (as it will now be known) are firmly put to rest and Frightened Rabbit are once again able to stand tall and proud, safe in the knowledge that they are one of the very finest alt-indie-folk outfits that this weather-beaten country has to offer. Album four can't come soon enough.

Live review: The Maccabees (w/Trailer Trash Tracys), Newcastle O2 Academy, 29/01/12

THE MACCABEES (w/TRAILER TRASH TRACYS), Newcastle O2 Academy, 29/01/12

Make no mistake about it: Newcastle has fallen head over heels, hook, line and sinker for The Maccabees. Tonight's sell-out Academy show is packed to the rafters virtually from the off, the expectant hoards chowing down their respective Sunday roasts as quickly as humanly possible in a bid to get that all-important front row view of the UK's most promising indie upstarts. It's an impressive feat for the Sabbath day; end-of-the-week shows are notorious in gigging circles for proving to be something of a damp squib, audiences too worn out following a weekend of unrelenting hedonism to give it their all, or too depressed at the thought of having to return to the long, hard slog of gainful employment to really cut loose. But not so tonight, boys and girls; whether the 2,000 strong crowd decided to bypass their entire weekends for one 90-minute slice of nihilistic exuberance, or they've just temporarily forgotten that work, school or university awaits them tomorrow morning, there's no escaping the fact that tonight, Matthew, Newcastle is on fire, its chants as loud as St. James' Park, its vocals drowning out the band and its energy bouncing off the walls, electrifying every soul in the room.

'Dream-pop' support Trailer Trash Tracys don't elicit quite the same reaction, their ethereal brand of sensual shoegaze falling largely on impatient ears. It's a shame, as their recently released debut Ester is a sterling effort, but then, they were always going to be something of a gamble in an environment such as this. When approximately 80% of your crowd is made up of Two Door fans (and that's no bad thing, by the way), reverb and drum machines probably aren't going to cut it. Still, for all the quieter moments are drowned out by chatter, Newcastle is polite enough to applaud graciously and refrain from turning impatience into aggression. Before long, the test of endurance is over and the main attraction begins, the quietly self-conscious five-piece edging on stage to the intro from their current LP before segueing effortlessly into an otherworldly Child, the album's second track. Lead singer Orlando Wells' vocals are spine-tinglingly timid throughout, the perfect counterpoint to Hugo White's piercing stabs of cascading guitar. It's a juxtaposition that continues throughout the show, the unrelenting visceral intensity of the rhythm section balancing Wells' quiet modesty, creating the thrillingly off-kilter, contradictory sound that characterises the band and makes their most recent efforts such a joy to listen to.

Indeed, Given to the Wild, released a mere twenty days ago, is already a strong contender for album of the year, its multi-layered, darkly abrasive palette uncovering whole new delights with every listen. Understandably, tonight's set leans heavily on the record's charms, the Maccabees undoubtedly intensely proud of their most prolific body of work to date. There's the current singles, a heartbreaking Feel to Follow, a punk-as-fuck Pelican; the future singles, a soaring Went Away, an eardrum-bursting Unknow; and, of course, the thrillingly intense Forever I've Known which eviscerates all and sundry with its sheer, unadulterated brilliance. The track is in a league of its own and it only gets better live, sounding every bit the greatest and most powerful thing they've ever done. Bravely, the band even close on a new song, finishing their encore with a magnificent Grew Up at Midnight, Given to the Wild's final track. Thankfully, the devoted masses have already devoured every last nuance and learned every last word, so the response is every bit as excitable as those reserved for the 'classics'.

Arguably, The Maccabees don't even need to play these tonight; they have Newcastle eating out of the palms of their spindly hands and could probably just run straight through every last track on Wild, as well as a bunch of four-minute no-brainers written on the back of fag packets the night before, and still the atmosphere would be electric. Of course, it doesn't play out that way: it isn't long before a raucous Lego punctures the melancholia, followed closely behind by William Powers' pounding drumbeats, No Kind Words' angular guitar attacks and, of course, the inevitable arms-around-mates wig-out of First Love. Inevitably, the masses go ape shit, bodies slamming back and forth, sweat-drenched teens flying over our heads, and the band look on in awe, Cheshire cat grins spread permanently across their faces at the insanity they've created... and on a Sunday, no less. If this is how the world responds to The Maccabees now, less than a month into the release of their new record, then one can only imagine the giddy heights they may ascend to come spring and summer. Mark it down now, guys and gals: 2012 - the year of The Maccabees. Make no mistake about it.