The Oxford Zodiac. It’s a pretty well-known venue as far as gigs go,
lots of up-and-coming bands play there, as well as “bands of the moment,”
and just plain amateurs. Saying that, I’d never been there until today.
It’s split into two halves, one is clearly bigger than the other.
Cave In, were scheduled to play in the smaller half. Was it to be too small
to hear anything, or close and cosy? I was soon to find out.
We entered, from the main ticket booth, down a small corridor. It was
deadly quiet, a bit eerie in all honesty. I looked at the brightly coloured,
cheaply printed adverts for forthcoming gigs, and spotted the Cave In
one. I then stopped dead in my tracks. The main support band, were the
Zico Chain. I was amazed. I had seen them just nine days before, at the
other end of the country, supporting The Alkaline Trio. They get about
a bit. Were they stalking me? I didn’t enjoy the gig in Sheffield;
I didn’t think they were very good at all, so I was hoping this
time, it was going to be a different story. We continued down the corridor,
and through a door. Welcome to the Zodiac. A bar dead ahead and an expense
of floor to the left, with a small stage on the same wall you entered
on. The room was empty. Doors opened at seven, and we walked in about
half past, yet it was dead in there.
We went and stood at the back so we could have a sit down, without looking
like weirdos in the middle of the floor, and amused ourselves with the
UV lights.
On came the roadies for the first band, Jacob’s Stories. Or so we
thought. What we thought were two roadies, were actually the band. I have
reason to believe that the band are actually a four piece, (with some
collaboration from a member of Hundred Reasons, whose new album, and yes
this is irrelevant now, was playing in between bands, and sounded really
good. Far better than the previous release “Shatterproof is not
a challenge.”) However, here they were presenting themselves as
a two-piece. I don’t think anybody in the room had really heard
of them. One of the members, a woman, sat down and took hold of her violin,
the second, a man, sat down at a double-rack synth. He held his arm up,
and signalled to the sound-man that they were ready to go. The sound and
lights, faded, and there was a feeling of anticipation in the room, for
the live music to begin.
The first song began with the wispy synth pad sounds, and some high-pitched
airy vocals from the man, the woman later joining with her violin. This
first section of the song didn’t really seem to get anywhere, and
was a similar thing over and over. As the vocals continued, I looked at
the man; he wasn’t singing. Along with the synths, he was working
a sampler, and using it to record sections of synth and vocal, and then
add effects and cut them up. A brief second of silence, and then bang;
a drum loop came in. It wasn’t just your average drum loop, it was
a selection of processed beats, expertly put together to produce variation
and interest, rather than just a basic beat to play to. It was like The
Postal Service had found a drum-machine. There was something about this
band, very much like some of Lemon Jelly’s earlier works. Some would
refer to it as “stoner music,” the kind of tracks you can
blast out after getting intoxicated, just lie there, and grin inanely.
Song after song were played, with amazing drum-beats, and well-composed
synth and vocal combinations. By the end of their set, they were picking
up a roomful of applause, instead of a light smattering at the start of
the set. Nearly everyone in the room had been captured, by the talent
of this couplet. It’s a skill in itself to create such a sound on
a CD, but doing all the sampling and triggering manually, and live on
a poky stage in Oxford; that’s something else.
And so we reverted to the Hundred Reasons album. Although it was good
intermission music, I would have rather stayed with the electronica chill-out
just before hand. Maybe I wanted them to last forever, because I knew
the next group on were The Zico Chain. I couldn’t escape them, and
so just had to pray they were better, or that at least the venue allowed
them to be better. As they came on to set up, I realised that in this
small venue, there was no such thing as a roadie. They came to set up
their instruments, and I recognised them all straight away. The guitarist,
looked something like Bert McCracken of The Used, and the singer/bassist,
well, let’s just imagine a young, angry Kurt Cobain. And the drummer
had something about his playing style that reminded me of Animal from
the Muppets.
And so they started. And actually, I was enjoying myself. Their opening
riff, was, for lack of a better phrase, a beast. It was really great.
When I saw them at the Octogan in Sheffield, I couldn’t really hear
music. I just watched them, and heard nothing but noise, and was more
concerned with the idiots around me. But here, I could hear it all. Catchy
riffs started every song, and everyone was nodding heads and twitching
legs. This wasn’t the kind of room to start jumping around, you
could just have controlled spasms and enjoy the music.
The drummer was pounding away like there was no tomorrow, with his mouth
hanging open and his eyes wide. And the guitarist was thrusting around
and moving all over, pounding out these riffs. Both the bassist and guitarist,
were battling with the long fringes, throwing them back over their heads
only to have them falling back into place a few seconds later.
“Hey everyone, we're The Zico Chain. Thanks for coming. We'd like
to thank Cave In for letting us tour with them. Also, there's CDs at the
back for only £6, so please go and buy them because we really need
the petrol money.”
There seemed to be a familiar pattern with regards to The Zico Chain's
song-writing abilities. A catchy riff would be established either on bass
or guitar, and then played by both at once. Or even played both at once
from the start, triggered by the ever-present open hi-hat four-beat intro.
The drummer would go nuts, the guitarist would wiggle about a bit, the
singer would look drunk and angry and fire out lyrics in a grungy tone,
and that would be a song. You could say, that most of their songs sounded
the same, but put that together with the fact that the first song was
good, and basically you're saying all their songs were good. Which they
were pretty much.
At the end of the final song, the front-man finished his last note then
instantly threw his bass up. I don't know if he'd paid attention to his
surroundings, but the ceiling wasn't that far above him, so, predictably,
the bass hit the ceiling, hit him, and hit the floor. He didn't seem to
care though. So maybe he was drunk after all. But applause erupted from
the crowd, and the band left.
I patted the bassist on the shoulder as he passed me, and congratulated
him.
“Oh cheers man,” he said, walking off into the room, which
was now full.
As Cave In started setting up, we walked to a closer position. As I said,
this wasn't really a “jump-around and crush” venue, so you
could pretty much walk anywhere you wanted to go, within reason. We talked
about all the songs we wanted to hear, and all the songs we actually knew.
There were two girls to the left of me, armed with a digital camera, taking
some shots for the album “this is us making dicks of ourselves at
Cave In,” and would no doubt be posted up on MySpace that very night.
I sighed.
Anyway, on came Cave In to play.
“Can we start?”
“Yeah!” called back the crowd.
And so off they went, bursting straight into a song. I didn't know it,
but it was good, and everyone was bobbing heads again.
Cave In are a four-piece American band. The drummer had his head hidden
my long dark hair, and I don't know what the drums had done to him, (maybe
called his Mum a slag?) but they were sure paying for it. He was seriously
bettering them. And what is it today about people looking like other people?
The bassist looked strangely like Ben Stiller, and the second guitarist
looked like my old art teacher Rob. (That means nothing to the general
public, but he was a legend and we always wondered what happened to him
since he left college.)
After the first song, the vocalist apologised.
“I'm sorry guys. I'm feeling really ill and I can't seem to reach
a perfect note.”
“You're fine man,” added the bassist, smiling. “Come
on.”
So into the next song they went. I didn't recognise it again. But I could
appreciate how well they were playing. They were playing all of their
new stuff off of “Perfect Pitch Black,” most of which I don't
own. And compared to their album “Antenna” which I knew, this
was much heavier. Similar in some ways to the Zico Chain's material, and
the bassist would occasionally “go all screamo” and have a
good shout. This was something that has definitely only come into their
music recently; screaming.
Half way through the song, the second guitarist stole the microphone and
sang the song instead. The vocalist (and lead guitarist too,) didn't mind,
he just stepped back and looked at him with the bassist, laughing. The
whole set was really laid back, and they hadn't really planned it I don't
hink.
“I apologise again, it's just, well, when we go on tour I like to
drink and smoke. And I don't mean lemon juice,” he said, raising
the glass in his hand.
Two American girls were in front of me, and one cried “I like to
smoke!”
“Ok,” said the front-man, “I guess that makes us...
similar?”
Everyone laughed.
“And I suppose you like warm lemon juice too, huh?”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah I bet.”
More laughing.
“Hmm now, what shall we play next?”
People were screaming different track names, and the band had a little
chat. They just started jamming randomly, having a laugh, but the rhythm
guitarist wasn't having any of it. You saw him shaking his head and he
broke it up, he didn't know what to play. They wanted to play another
song, but the front-man's voice was really suffering. The rhythm said
he's sing it, but the bassist said no, he wanted to. And this, was really
the only thing that let the band down I think, the lack of planning of
the set, and the general decisions on stage. The front-man turned the
microphone into the crowd.
“You guys can sing it.”
And so they started, and of course, the first verse went without vocals.
Then the rhythm guitarist spun the mic back to him, and sang the rest.
With two guitars playing virtually identical things, the sound was really
thick and, generally amazing. Whereas the Zico Chain were led from the
bass, these guys were really led by the guitars.
“What next?”
More deliberation.
“BIG RIFF! BIG RIFF!” plenty of people were shouting. Another
track I didn't know.
“Hmm, well okay. You know who's a real motherfucker with the microphone?
The singer from Jacob's Stories. Yeah, I think he should come on up.”
The song started, and the mic was turned back into the crowd, and sure
enough, the singer from Jacob's Stories, came to the front, and sung from
the crowd. He wasn't too sure on the words, and so watched the Cave In
singer mouth the lyrics, to help him find his place. But he did very well,
and the song was excellent. They wanted him to come up for more, but he
refused. One song was enough. And well done to him.
They ended with tracks that employed more screaming, to give the singer's
voice a rest. “Trepanning,” was one song, and turned out to
be the only one I really knew of.
The bassist missed a line, and screamed “This time I fucked it up,”
but I don't know if anyone could understand his screams really, and so
didn't notice. The band did though, they were laughing and joking around,
as they did for most of the set. The bass and rhythm were moving around
and having a good time, and drummer was going mad, and the singer was,
well, kind of moving back and forth a bit and doing an annoying knee-bending
dance. Trying to be hardcore, and failing a bit. But still, great.
The set ended to tonnes of clapping and cheering, (as if you can measure
that kind of thing in tonnes.) I was a bit annoyed that they hadn't played
any of (in my opinion,) their better stuff, such as “Inspire,”
(with the catchiest riff in the history of time,) or “Anchor,”
(which most people just know as the song with the video where the guy
has his feet set in concrete.) Nevertheless, it was a great gig, and as
we left we realised how much our ears were ringing. We were placed right
by one of the speakers, which seemed to be emanating this high-pitched
buzz for most of their set, and also seemed to be the main output for
their feedback and effects in between songs. The ringing was so severe
in fact, that as I type this now, nineteen hours after the gigs end, the
ringing is still there. It was very good, but it was very loud. I'll remember
that for next time.
We left the Zodiac, and spotted a greasy chicken fast-food place; the
“perfect end” to a night out.
Review by Thom
|
