Showing posts with label Alas I cannot swim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alas I cannot swim. Show all posts

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

Mercury Music Prize 2008: Exclusive Interviews

Colin Greenwood: “It would be embarrassing if Radiohead won the Mercury Prize”
In exclusive interview at the awards show...


Radiohead's Colin Greenwood told Gigwise in an exclusive interview last night that the band would be “embarrassed” to win the Mercury Prize.

“The music’s great, the line-up’s really strong and diverse, so just to be included is pretty special,” Colin said at the awards show. “But Radiohead are not new, so we're being involved in something we don’t feel we should be.”
Radiohead recently returned from a huge tour of the US and Canada, from which bassist Greenwood seemed a little groggy. “This is my big night out,” he said. “but I've got a head cold! I think I caught it from my kids.”

“I already miss touring.” Colin admitted. He said of their time away: “It was wonderful. We played a cricket match with the crew and everyone in Vancouver. And Thom and Johnny played a cover of a Neil Young song, ‘After The Gold Rush’, in LA two weeks ago, in front of Americans and they didn’t lynch us!”

Radiohead embark on a tour of Japan in the October.



Laura Marling Calls Mercury Prize “Weird”
In Gigwise exclusive at the awards show...


Elusive folk songstress Laura Marling confessed to Gigwise in a very special interview last night that she though the Mercury Prize was “weird”.

“I’ve no idea what this is all about,” Marling said from a balcony overlooking the ceremony, below, just moments before her performance.

“With your own gigs, you’re playing to people who’ve come to see you and want to listen to your songs and have a nice evening, where as this, it’s great, but it is a huge commercial deal. It’s not got as much soul as a gig, but it’s great…” she said, unconvincingly, before adding quietly, “it’s weird.”

When asked if she minded being nominated for the prize she replied: “Music isn’t all about music anymore. The only thing that keeps me going is the community of it, and this hasn’t got anything to do with that, but it’s part of it.”

Marling, alongside Adele and Estelle, was one of three solo female artists to be nominated for the prize, which was awarded to Elbow at last night's ceremony.

Friday, 5 September 2008

Gig Review: Laura Marling at the Star of Bethnal Green 3/9/08

Read the original here


“I've been here for two hours,” a smiling redhead confesses at the door of the Star of Bethnal Green. Inside, the tiny pub is brimming with the well-coiffed and music-savy. The doorman is arguing with the Scruffy Bird promoter, trying to get him to stop letting people in as the venue reached capacity some time ago. There is a queue of pretty indie kids that winds its way down the street for half a mile. Which is why the redhead is smiling: she's made it to the front; she might just get in.

The reason for such commotion? One diminutive eighteen-year old by the name of Laura Marling. With her pale elfin featues and boyish white-blonde crop, Marling has a voice that defies contemporary comparison and a strength of principle and direction that has revived the underground folk scene's anti-commercial, music-concentric resolve.

Just over a year ago, in a performance on Jools Holland, Laura was a rabbit in headlights: her blue eyes never left the ground, her fingers trembled through delicate bedroom compositions. The ethereal creature before us this evening, make-up-less as ever and shrouded in a large, nondescript shirt, has evolved from that early terror, garnering a steady, steely confidence over the course of two years of hard graft and steady gigging. Marling weaves her way through the crowd to take to the stage, she smiles, she chats amiably with her hushed and waiting audience, and finally, she sings.

She is without her Mumford and Sons backing band tonight, and with the absence of musical support her songs - the earlier love-forlorn acoustic tracks and the more recent, fiddle-featuring folk-tales - are stripped of complications, sounding all the better for it, especially is such an intimate environment. 'Ghosts' and 'My Manic And I' are interspersed with a b-side, 'Blackberry Stone'. The latter, one of Marling's finest songs and rarely heard save from live, smoulders with a rhythmic and melodic ire that echos in the dim confines of the pub. The earlier part of the set is interrupted slightly by the sound technician fiddling with the levels, but in many ways this just adds to the personal feel of the gig, as tiny smiles and giggles slip through Marling's usual cold, fixated stage persona.

We are treated to some new material, two new songs to be precise. “It's terribly self indulgent to play new songs,” Marling apologises, before adding lightly, “so I will.” The first, 'Rambling Man', showcases a melodic line and vocal agility of uniqueness that strikes of Joni Mitchell. There are but glimpses of facile lyrics at moments in the new, unpolished tracks that remind how young Marling still is. The audience is awe-struck and respectfully still, until the 'Crawled Out Of The Sea' interlude, where an irrepresible sing-a-long begins accidentally, endorsed by a glimmer of a smile from onstage. "I wish more people would do that," Marling murmurs afterwards. "No one does that anymore: this is what music is all about." And as her voice winds its way through to the melodic reaches of her handstitched, humble folk songs, we can't help but agree.