Gig Review - Mauser, Shelley Between Shoehorns and Inflight Recorder 05/06/09

This first appeared as a review on local blackpool music forum www.blackpoolbands.co.uk if anyone is interested in the Blackpool music scene perhaps in fact indeed the best place to start.

As stated here is the full review of the opening night of newly initiated primetime events @ the Oxford. After a weekend of work and failed bicycle repair has washed over my very being, I find myself in a position to collect my thoughts and engorge verbatim over sights, sounds and experience.

My evening started with a little developed angst I had made furtive efforts to repair and reinstate leg powered mobility to an incomplete effect. So faced with hands full of bike grease and perhaps heightened machismo further underpinned by a general state of failure I washed up and headed for the Oxford, sadly on foot. I stopped off on the way to purchase a malted hops concoction for the journey and journeyed with gusto. I doubt your interest in this review progresses to my developed internal analysis and position on the consumption of fermented beverages, but suffice to say new rules have been inwardly addressed and applied. That said as I was aware that I would be working a very busy celebration of two people’s embarkation into the journey of matrimony at a restaurant of real quality in Thornton region of the Fylde. This had created a caution within me that progressed to the foresight of setting a reminder to cease further alcoholic consumption. This caution was later somewhat thrown to the wind but perhaps the musical presentations of the evening created the disdain for the sane, controlled and safe.

My preceding angst soon departed at the welcome of friendly faces of personal historic alignment often defined as friendship and introductions or concretification, if there is such a word and if not I choose this moment to christen it befitting as it is, of new and establishing connections. Such friendly interactions varied in reality of whimsical conversations, recollection of progressive emotional states and rather amusingly the donning (pun firmly intended) of apparel of head attire that photographic evidence clearly prove to be defined as nothing other than camp but fun. After these instances of merriment had progressed, I recognised that my botched attempts at practical rectification of the mechanical had delayed my arrival and thus I quickly became aware of the musical proceedings underway.

Shelley between shoehorns were underway and duly my attention turned to their performance. Sean’s estimation of them being “grunge but sorta not” confused as it may appear is largely accurate. There was a presence of circa early nineties Seattle styled riffs which in my estimation is not a negative distinction whatsoever. There perhaps was a more progressive or should that be modernised influence offering an undercurrent to musical styling that reared its inquisitive head from time to time. For a band that seemingly are quite young and bludgeoning their initial contribution to the apparently non existent “scene” of Blackpool, they did this very well. They had interesting and provocative styling’s to their grunge laden tunes. The singer portrayed a charismatic appeal through that generation x ensemble of the apathetical and the impassioned. He did offer a smile perhaps to frequently for a true introspective temperate soul, but this is really me quaffing at the manner of many who take themselves too seriously and in no way is this a criticism. Life is about happiness that may on occasion have to rise on occasion like the proverbial phoenix from the flames of sorrow or disdain and any affirmation of the youthful example of joy should never be shunned, questioned or chastised. There was a certain rawness that fused well with a reasonably tight sound from this outfit. In summary this band were enjoyable and worthy of further inspection as occasion may arise, where an instinctive belief is that musical appreciation will grow through exposure to this. All in all an interesting first introduction to these chaps that receives this virtual thumbs up.

The next band that took to the stage was inflight recorder. This band serves as a living embodiment and testament to the adage of not judging a book by its cover. As they took to the stage the styling’s of the members created a stereotypical perception that didn’t apply to their music. I admit to being guilty of submerging myself within this stereotype. The guitarist and singer were adorned in check shirts and attire that indicated a musical deliverance likely that would meet genre descriptions such ranging from indie to alternative perhaps pushing to grunge. The bass player wearing a Metallica t shirt with somewhat understandable pride created an obvious image assessment. My location and the architecture of the Oxford diminished any judgement to be made regarding the drummer, however reduction in further progressing mental alignment to stereotypes is perhaps a wise matter, if only the voting public of Burnley could be as enlightened.

Anyway certainly not for the first or last time I digress. The music produced by Inflight Recorder could be pigeonholed into genres bordering on classic rock. Perhaps the accurate delivery of riffs and soundscapes, laden with classy riffs created this instant mental assessment of the musical offerings. The music of Inflight Recorder was nonetheless pleasing and enjoyable, having been subjected to varying qualities of cover bands in my day; Inflight Recorder associated this thoughts within me. I wish to make it clear that under no circumstances did I find Inflight Recorder uninspired or unoriginal. The slick and stylish method in which their tunes were presented was not clinical and I wish to firmly address this so that a reader of this does not fall into the pitfalls of discriminatory of stereotyping that I ashamedly indulged on first sight. The music was engaging and multifaceted in its make up and drive. There were occasions of that best of all acts where a listen to a song created a feeling of the recollection. Or put another way a first listen to a song creates the notion of having heard it before, not again I stress due to any plagiaristic intent but purely due to a high standard of execution and arrangement.

Before Mauser began their set, I had overheard a conversation between two people outside; I believe one of them was from the first band. They were discussing the quality of Mauser with pending excitement. I refrained from joining in this conversation (I know a rariety ), but hearing of discussions between people whom I do not know opining towards the positive over musical outfits I too share a passion for made me smile. I later took the opportunity to offer a glance in the direction of those two protagonists in the midst of the Mauser set and their reactions of laughter, merriment and the acquiescent pull towards hefty appreciation was self evident. This summed up the performance to me. My original intended self imposed alcohol curfew had no surpassed but alas I found a rum and coke in my hand, however this seemed fitting on an evening of looseness and joy.

Mauser took to the stage, with Donny jean less which if anyone ever didn’t really need the benefit of being looser and freer perhaps that distinction could be levelled without even the mildest leaning of understatement.

The set began with that “numbers” song which is a somewhat perfect introduction to the band that is Mauser. A tightness of sound, harmonising and quality duelling/complimentary guitar work which orbits an almost farcical lyrical concept, however it is difficult to not feel excited and pleased by this tune. The set progressed offering better known (well to anyone wise enough to download the demo) numbers offering another sumptuous deliverance of “Heroine” and “the ballad of Steve” which I avidly absorbed for personal reasons (incidentally in case my manners didn’t apply accordingly in conversation cheers Tommy ). Other less known to me musical treats were interspersed with vigour and fun. These “other” songs as I currently refer to them are fast developing an impact on my memory and enjoyment. A highlight of this was as yet I’m unsure to its title, but the song that Dalton referred to in the either the preparation or review of the sumptuously fantastic celebration of the non existent scene of Blackpool that was the north by north west festival, as the one where Shaun and Chris sing a word each. This is truly an exceptional song that fits snugly in the overall offering of aural delight that transcending on what was sadly perhaps not a fully attended gig as was befitting the quality on show.

During the set closer that is “the embedded screwdriver” as on other regular occurrences of the evening’s performance, Donny’s garment freer outlook seemed to have somewhat critical comedic timing on his “antics” to the celebrated better. Maybe the camp sight of me earlier had this impact more so than the lack of denim, who could say . Drumsticks flourish flaring is always an enjoyable visual site, especially at the sight of “big Chris” begrudgingly bending down regularly from lofty heights to pass drum sticks back.

Where Sean may refer to the performance as sloppy and shambolic, my assessment at the time that still holds sway in my thoughts as applied to Pareto’s law. As in this instance the 80/20 principle applies to the majority of quality of performance, technique and song writing with the lesser applying to the simply and plainly put “fun”. Witnessing a Mauser gig is vastly attracting a sentiment whereby the listener will be subjected to a heady performance laden with riffs of the highest calibre forcing the mind to both the toe/head tapping drive of the heavy sound of a tune such as “Heroine” to the more straightforwardly melodious enticement of other songs, to which “the ballad of Steve” flies the flag high and proud. Attendance to a Mauser gig also promises and never seems to fail to deliver enjoyment and delight.

This perhaps befittingly was a collective stream that threaded the evening. The evening’s ensemble of bands produced high quality riffage and driving rock n roll, varying around the foot stomper drive to the introspective contemplative malaise of question. There was however pleasingly a sense of fun throughout and after all, for music to be good and certainly for music to be great to me it should highlight and echo emotions or varying states. Music that serves up soundtracks to your lives whether indelibly defining tawdry or shaky emotional states or igniting primal fires of celebration is truly the testament or real review of the good or the bad.

My evening continued in this manner venturing into town later and meeting up with many old friends for pleasing nostalgia coupled the delight of hanging around with others. All in all a good night. Sorry for going on a bit, but to be fair if anyone starts to read a review that has me identified as the author they are either uninitiated or foolhardy to not assume that a wealth of language will be used ha ha.

Stu