Outfit So what’s the state of music like in 2012 then eh? Discuss. I guess to a certain extent it depends on your age. Try as you might it’s impossible to resist the lure of the stuff that appealed to you during those formative years (13-18) and as you grow older you’re actually legally obliged to start moaning about whatever’s in the charts. The truth is that there’s a lot of crap around right now... but then again there always was. It’s only years later with the benefit of distance that we’re able to conveniently filter out the rubbish and bask in the warm glow of the good stuff. I mention all this because tonight’s gig was a perfect example of that ‘good stuff’ featuring a trio of bands that might well be operating under the radar right now but who each prove that, for all the musical effluent out there, 2012 has plenty to offer.


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George Barnett And The Ninth Wave At 6ft 3 (with an unruly mop of curly brown hair adding an extra inch or two) and a ceiling that’s probably not much taller, bouncing up and down might not be the wisest thing to attempt. Somehow the hair’s owner manages to avoid serious brain damage though, even if members of the audience end the set risking their own craniums by quite literally dancing on the tables. Welcome to the world of George Barnett, a 17 year old multi instrumentalist, vocalist and producer recently described by Beardyman as “one talented muthafucka”...and he should know. Given his capacity for playing pretty much every instrument ever invented George (winner of Young Drummer of the Year way back in 2008) and his band take a similarly catholic approach to musical genres, deftly embracing everything from blues rock to piano ballads, ska, boogie woogie...sometimes in the same track. Of course all this could end up sounding like a dog’s dinner, that it doesn’t is down to George’s seemingly instinctive knack for just knowing what works.


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Jordan Reyne Now what we had here was a Folk Club situation. No! Don’t run away just yet. It was a small venue setting big on surprises. Jack Harris is from a sleepy, one-sheep town in rural mid-Wales. Whilst the fiery-maned, smouldering Pre-Raphaelite tressed antipodian Circe of pedal effect sonic enchantment, Jordan Reyne, hails from New Zealand. And between them both they gave us kaleidoscopic interpretations of traditional Folk, experimental multi-loop Steampunk and all thing in between and then some. Do keep up!


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The Black Keys The packed Apollo crowd of 3,500 revellers were lapping it up. From the minute they kicked off with 'Howling for You' through to the oh so catchy ‘Gold on the Ceiling’ the crowd went bonkers. ‘Little Black Submarine’ with its beautiful vocal melody and mesmerising guitar solo, was most definitely the live performance highlight from the new album.


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Clap Your Hands Say Yeah It’s good to see cult US indie band Clap Your Hands Say Yeah back in Britain, as part of a European tour, much of which is sold-out. But judging from the half-full venue, the word hasn’t spread to Birmingham, which means a lot of folk are missing out on a treat. However, the small audience seems to be made up of hard-core appreciative fans who give the band a rapturous welcome.


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Joanna Briggs Joanna Briggs - hmm! Her fish-net suspender stockings, kitsch cute bell-boy hat and double-buttoned breath-defying basque had me thinking Peter Gabriel and Prince, with the latter at his most disgustingly sublime erotomanic best. Her impossibly Michelangelo sculptured shoulders and mouth of Hades mascaraed eyes are an intoxicating incantation of desire. The alt. dominatrix danger Babe stage persona, bathed in ersatz Lucozade laser light and backed by a slut-bucket brutal cool band are a fearful delight. But, at the same time, there’s a seductive venerability. Imagine Debbie Harry and Captain Beefheart stroking a hungry tigress. At this gig your imagination was allowed to run wild. Feral fun for grown-up children.


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Roots Manuva My Christmas Day Facebook status read "Christmas Present list: A heavily embroidered Maharishi hoodie, lots of cash, 2 bottles of rum, the Nile Rogers autobiography, aftershave I would actually wear and tickets to Roots Manuva”. I certainly did well on the last one, as tonight's show was immense! Over the years I have seen Roots Manuva live many times, and with several different line ups, but tonight ranked up there with one of his finest performances ever. Tonight Rodney Smith was on point, highly refined and most definitely splendid.


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Capital Sun Slowly but surely... well, slowly at least... I’m getting back out there into Gigland and tonight was back in my old stomping ground (I attended pretty much every one of the weekly 444 club nights there a few years back), The Rainbow, which always manages to seem both further away from ‘town’ and closer to it at the same time. I reckon they keep moving it to avoid sniffy post-yuppie types moaning about all the noise it doesn’t make any more after they were forced to seal up all of the windows, doors, gaps in the floorboards etc and fit little woolly booties on the local pigeons just in case the sound of their feet on the roof disturbed someone’s ruddy beauty sleep. Gah! Good grief.


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The Maccabees The Maccabees undoubted panache for celestial teen-angst agendas pureed in swathes of cathedral histrionics, basking in the ghost-light of Tate Modernesque backdrops and Radiohead/Soft Cell James Joyce dreams of sub-consciousness had to be forsaken. And they continued to get ever better Tweets tell. A sublimely good-natured, capacity Institute crowd were clearly convinced. Many thanks to Susie & Morad for review passes.


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The Magic Tombolinos Ensemble troubadours, The Magic Tombolinos*, led by founder, vocals and stax of sax, Alejandro Toledo, brought their celebratory eclectic mongrel mash up genre-busting, idiom defying music to The Hare this evening. And what fun it was and full on credit to promoters, ‘World Unlimited’ for their ever valiant, non-profit making ethos of lending deserved support for all manner of diverse artists.


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Dirty Old Folkers Well, nearly there. The turkey’s already on, the mulled wine’s bubbling away and Bad Santa’s in the DVD player. Bliss. Just before I attempt to consume my own body weight in stuffing however time for one last review...almost literally given the sheer insanity on offer this evening. The night kicked off with local folk collective, Sylvia, who endeared themselves to my heart simply by covering Frankie’s Power Of Love track, not a traditional Christmas classic I’ll grant you but for people of a certain age (i.e. ancient) always associated with this time of the year. Covers aside they’ve got some fine self penned tracks too, with gentle harmonies giving way to slightly rockier riffs.


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Circulus So where do you stand on the whole ceilidh thing then eh? I guess that might depend on how many glasses of egg nog / Christmas ale you’ve consumed. For the uninitiated a ceilidh’s a bit of a knees up, involving a bit of the old folk dancing thing (you know, all that taking your partners by the hand dosey-doe business). Whilst some folk are born to dance others aren’t, but at least folk dancing offers those of us with a complete lack of rhythm the chance to get on down whilst looking marginally less stoopid than we normally do, mainly because everyone else is too busy flailing around merrily to notice that you’ve just tripped over your feet/the floor/thin air... again.


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Kasabian December is a great time for going to a gig. Christmas is a coming, everyones in the mood for a party, the beers are flowing and if you're going to see the right band then you're in for a belter. So that poses the question... Were Kasabian the right band, to whip the crowd into a frenzy, to get everyone singing in response to the front mans instruction and generally get things rocking? Abso-blummin-lutely!!! There's no-one better.


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Goodnight Lenin Ho ho ho Merry Christmas... what’s Santa got in his sack? Why... it’s Paul Murphy and Goodnight Lenin! Ho ho ho! Yes, it’s that time of the year again, time for the second annual Goodnight Lenin Christmas gig thingy, this year held in the rather lovely Birmingham Cathedral, duly decked out for the festive season with all the good taste you’d expect from the big man and his disciples.


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