Last weekend’s White Noise Festival at Leicester’s Firebug venue highlighted an overlooked music scene.  In recent years the city has been known for Kasabian and little else.  Perhaps only My Awesome Compilation and Maybeshewill have garnered a small buzz since something like 2003.  Its other bands have generally stayed under the radar of the mainstream.  Indeed the scene as a whole has had a distinct lack of coverage and with the recent closure of The Charlotte, you might be forgiven for thinking that Leicester’s music scene was severely flagging.  White Noise was Leicester’s way of showing to people that it has more and better bands than you might think.  Perhaps equally importantly that it has a network of promoters and fans that are passionate about live music.  With a weekend wristband costing as little as £4, bands performing for free and profits donated to LOROS Hospice, this was every inch a local community event.

The Friday of the festival was kicked off in fine style by Buenos Aires whose shimmied post-hardcore sat on the rockier side of Minus the Bear.  However it was the night’s touring partners that took all of the plaudits.  And So I Watch You From Afar are quite simply the best live band in Britain right now and after a month on the road with them, Maybeshewill seemed in a particularly buoyant mood.  Both bands produced blistering instrumental sets which culminated with end of tour party scenes (think mass-druming and stage-dives).

The Saturday started with an appropriate wave of white noise.  Cunt Rag’s doom laden wrestling masks and phallic imagery erupted into the louder than everything else Diet Pills.  After the rest of a muted afternoon Autohype were next to impress with indie-rock melodies that stood in stark contrast to the opening acts.  Given the task of headlining the evening were Minnaars, a band that split opinion more than any other in Leicester.  They are known to there detractors as ‘Middle Class and Agitated’ and are accused at every turn of aping Foals.  Undeniably there are similarities between the bands but unquestionably the quality of Minnaars’ songs stand on there own, their angular melodies capable of competing with their luminaries.  What’s more the large audience that greeted the set is testament to their enduring popularity.

Sunday found room for some of the region’s more left-field acts.  Peter Wyeth’s penchant for looping sounds did little but mask a fantastic talent for plain acoustic balladry but Theo’s effects pedals were different propositions entirely.  His method of looping guitar sounds before accompanying on drums was a mesmerising live experience, as thick and full as most bands.  All Idols Fall were similarly engrossing and proved that Leicester still has something to offer the punk-rock circle.  This left the always reliable Death of London to bring the curtain down.  Blending the more abrasive elements of Fugazi with the punky hardcore of Trapdoor Fucking Exit, theirs was a fittingly bombastic way to draw things to a close.

The weekend was a real triumph for a tight-knit community and made clear that Leicester has a number of bands that are well worth a mention, indeed I must also namedrop Her Name is Calla after their welcome return to the live arena.  White Noise has set a new marker for the Leicester music scene, long may it continue to grow.

Identikit pop fun from Guilford.

The ice-cream cone melting on the beach that adorns the cover fits neatly with The Toniks’ sun-kissed pop-rock, a sound that sits somewhere between The Feeling and Snow Patrol. Only whilst the group has an admirable sheen and an undeniable knack for melody, the songs lack the panache of their luminaries. By its own admission the group doesn’t strive to craft anything other than melodic pop songs and their untitled EP certainly fits the bill.

Showcasing this penchant for melody, the release is resplendent with hooks but unfortunately possesses little staying-power. The group comes across as inoffensive, middle of the road and is ultimately forgettable. If anything more transparent than accessible, The Toniks have a knack of crafting well organized yet uninteresting tunes.

However, that’s not to say that there is no enjoyment to be taken from the affair. Upbeat closer ‘So Much Better’ sits on the more effervescent side of Smashmouth’s back catalogue and could conceivably raise a few smiles come the festival season, similarly the good vibrations of ‘This Summer’ will no doubt evoke more fun in the sun. The Toniks are akin to a holiday romance; fleeting but none-the-less sweet. It’s a shame that we’ve ‘heard it so much better’.

One of the hardest touring bands in the UK, Sonic Boom Six is back with its unique blend of reggae, punk, ska and hip-hop. The group’s eclectic sound is far removed from fashion or sophistication yet they are undoubtedly one of the most important bands in Britain. With catchy songs, squeaky rapped vocals and left-leaning politics Sonic Boom Six is mobilising the ‘yoof’. Perpetually on the road, like The King Blues they operate on what might be termed a ‘grassroots’ level. However unlike their contemporaries, Sonic Boom Six have garnered little coverage from more mainstream press.

Opener ‘Welcome to the (City of Thieves)’ is typically instant, introducing the album’s concept; the city as a failed model of capitalism. It’s an explosive rush that gives way to ‘Back 2 Skool’, an anthem for teenage individuality [and perhaps a swipe at Bring Me the Horizon] the track is targeted at a very specific age group.

Happily for those outside of the demographic there is still joy to be taken. The band has such an unerring enthusiasm that it’s impossible not to get swept up, impossible not to draw a smile or sheepishly raise a fist.

Fist raising is the major area that SB6 have progressed in. The punk bits are not only as fast as they’ve ever been but are laced with a big rock sound. ‘A Bright Cold Day in April’ best showcases the bands progression, featuring unusually bombastic guitar solos and almost hardcore-style chugging.

However it’s when Sonic Boom Six produce slower paced brass accompanied pieces like ‘Rum little Skallywag’ that they peak. Ironically for a track about a scoundrel going away to prison it is the most upbeat track on the album. Due to the slower ska feel of the song the skallywag’s heinous crimes are indelibly linked to a more likeable rudie.

There is a constant sunny disposition and the finale of ‘Floatin Away’ does nothing to dampen spirits. The band look to the future, pondering ‘what’ll it be like when we get older, we can be far away from here, we’re going to the moon my dear.’ There is such an endearing sense of hope.

This hope coupled with bouncy sugary sweet tunes invites younger listeners to a cause, making them believe that there is still incisive punk rock that can make a difference. For everyone else there is still fun to be had, parts cringe-worthy, parts pure joy.

Rating: 3.5/5

Swedes in skinny jeans created a stunning aural landscape.

There was an element of romance attached to the evening as skinny Swedes headed to a rough part of town to a venue best described as ‘antiqued’.  They were even late on; the whole thing smacked of bohemian cool.

Before that we had the pleasure of meeting Caesura whose emotive brand of progressive rock showed a great deal of potential.  Their gorgeous three-part harmonies filled the back room as thickly as the smoke machine.

After the pleasantries came an unfortunate blip by way of Joymask, their sound a bizarre mix of lounge jazz and r n’ b/pop-style vocals.  I’m sure that they were purporting such unholy and unnecessary experimentation to be very cutting edge, evidently there was good reason the styles had never before merged.

There was a lengthy wait before Jeniferever were ready to begin but eventually fairy lights illuminated the stage, transforming the dingy well-worn platform into something magical.  And from sparse melodic beginnings did ear-splitting noise emerge.

Jeniferever delicately crafted melancholic slow-burners that gravitated into uplifting cacophonies.  Their textured sound had a physical presence, an ambience all too easy to get lost in.  This was a mood laced by Kristofer Jönson’s sporadic hushed vocals and thirteen different guitars.

Admittedly the number of guitars came across as overkill but whilst such post-rock meandering might have carried the stigma of pretence, the performance suggested that the Swedes are anything other than heartfelt.  Indeed ‘Closing In’ was enough to bring tears to eyes already softened by the billowing smoke machine.

‘Ox Eye’ brought about similar if not more epic results; the standout track from their recently released Spring Tides effort excelled in the live environment.  It brought about that glorious wince that only occurs when every single hair is stood on end, its wonderful crescendo invaded the audience’s senses.

Although the band ran close to formulaic ‘quiet, loud, quiet’ dynamics, it was their seamless build-up and progressions that were worthy of most praise.  By turns mournful and exhilarating Jeniferever kept everyone on tenterhooks.

Rating: 4.5/5

Owen Ashworth infused synthetic sounds with rarely found warmth.

Aussie openers Crayon Fields were twee.  With agreeable melodies that doffed a cap to The Beach Boys and The Shins, their hand claps and falsetto vocals were coupled with a feigned shyness [apologies if misconstrued].

Concern on the other hand was an entirely different proposition.  Gordon Wilson Ashworth, brother to the evening’s headliner, utilised four cassette decks and all manner of electronic trickery. The end result was a slow moving mass of noise, a progressive soundtrack that oscillated and gradually built into a thick physical wall.  His set presented an arduous task that yielded scant reward besides a cutting blare.

Casiotone’s Owen Ashworth approached electronica rather differently with his effects used to more melodic ends.  Owen began the set on his lonesome, performing older tracks which were mostly taken as requests from the audience.  This plan was almost scuppered by technical gremlins which knocked his trusty keyboard out of tune but he soldiered on reciting tracks that relied prominently on synth.

Ashworth carried himself through such problems with ease, his soft charm and charisma ably papering over the cracks.  A comfortable entertainer, he told jokes that might’ve induced groans from a less endearing personality. Even taking into account technical hitches Ashworth managed to deliver.  The whole performance had an air of warmth about it, from the jangle of ‘Ice Cream Truck’ through to the tremendous ‘Young Shields’.

This was a set filled with personal anecdotes.  Ashworth did not command the audience, he shared some home truths.  At one point he stopped mid-song to make sure we knew he wasn’t glamorising cocaine.  It felt akin to an intimate chat with a friend, a friend that could recount the time his dad was struck speechless upon meeting Paul Simon as well as produce a fascinating cover of ‘Graceland’.

By the end of the set Ashworth was joined by a full band [which included his brother Gordon].  Together they performed tracks from this years Vs Children album.  ‘Natural Light’ and ‘Harsh The Herald Angels Sing’ stood out amongst tracks that ditched Casiotone’s one-man novelty value but retained Ashworth’s quirky indie-pop sensibility.

Rating:  4/5

Loud, fast and with the obligatory crew of tattooed fat guys in baseball caps, Death by Stereo brought every hardcore convention in the book.

A sparse Underworld crowd slowly warmed to Leeds based Nanas Revenge. The group harked back to late ‘90s punk rock and the buzzsaw sound of so many Epitaph and Fat Wreck bands. Particularly reminiscent of Pennywise and long forgotten British band Gash, their familiar brand of poppy punk was melodic if un-affecting.

By the time Death by Stereo bounded on stage the crowd had grown in stature, if not in size. There was a small group of die-hard fans centre-stage intent on slam-dancing their way through the set, two of whom sported DBS tattoos. Whilst this did nothing to dispel the general rule of apathy for London crowds it did attest to the band’s relevance. They mean a great deal to a few.

In-keeping with their newly acquired veteran status Death by Stereo appeared road-hardened. From the charismatic quips of vocalist Efrem to an obvious gang mentality, the band had clearly both been there and done that before.

At times it felt like an assurance that hardcore music was still important. Efrem dutifully waded into the crowd and handed the mic to anyone that sang (or pretended to). It felt a little like an outreach project.

The band was clearly at a critical juncture of its career; unsigned and talking about releasing an album by themselves. This not only smelt of typical posturing; ‘we’ll do things on our own terms and it’ll be all the more righteous’, but of a band that were beginning to slip off the radar.

Most of these accusations melted away during the course of their typically bullish set. ‘Holding Sixty Dollars On A Burning Bridge’, with its glorious call and response showcased the band at their peak. Similarly ‘No Shirt, No Shoes, No Salvation’ with its gang backing vocals of “Die, Die!” marked another set highlight.

However the band was more than stereotyped hardcore shouting. British born Dan Palmer impressed with precise and elaborate solos that pitted the groups punk styling closer to metal.

Ignoring the churlish blast of ‘Emo Holocaust’, Death by Stereo endeared, and provided a reminder that hardcore veterans can be more than clichés; they can also shred.

Rating: 7/10

Italian noise merchants endorsed by Mike Patton stop-off in London.

Elephant Vs Leopard opened the proceedings with a sound described as being “like an elephant fighting a leopard”.  This was perhaps a far reaching metaphor, in reality they came across like Shellac doused with the loose aggression of NOmeansno.

Vocalist Spike cut a Henry Rollins-like figure.  Well built, covered in tattoos and dressed all in black he leant forward, launching himself into the songs.  Sweating profusely, his blokie demeanour and exaggerated physical gestures gave life to the performance.

Next up were Black Carrot whose 2008 effort Drink The Black Forest was included in Artrocker’s top ten albums of the year.  Sadly it was difficult to see why they had attracted such praise.  Admittedly the band was incredibly nervous playing to a sizeable London crowd but their performance was an absolute mess.

The synth and effects pedals were barely audible and considering the number of instruments that were played, their arrangements sounded sparse.  Such meandering was garnished with strained vocals that purported to be experimental in the vain hope that no-one would realise how plain ordinary they were.  The lyrics “Why should we listen to this awful man” inspired more than one onlooker to mutter, “I don’t know.”

The audience had picked themselves up again by the time Zu strode on stage.  From an ominous stormy intro tape the band eventually emerged and ripped into their doomy instrumental post-rock.  Although best known for their association and collaboration with Faith No More’s Mike Patton, the band proved that they were still a might to be reckoned with minus his deranged screams and samples.

They came out like a steamroller and produced startlingly loud driven rock music.  Massimo Pupillo’s distorted bass more than compensated for the lack of a six-string guitar; the sound was so thick, varying and above all crushingly heavy.

Saxophonist Luca T Mai blew the thing like an alarm; he propelled the madness of it all as if bating the drums to spiral out of control.  Only with such accomplished musicians Zu were never likely to derail.

In fact their undoing was their relentlessness.  Whilst there was enough variance in the bass playing to keep things interesting, the volume and brutality began to overshadow the intricacy of the band.  By the end of the performance Zu had begun to drain where they had previously inspired.

Rating:  3/5

Highly refined rock opera from one of the biggest bands in the world.

The Answer came on later than scheduled and was still playing to an empty arena. With severe delays on the Jubilee line most AC/DC fans were starting cab share schemes from various parts of Greenwich. What started off as a big opportunity for the Answer has been neutered by the London Underground.

Luckily for The Answer AC/DC has such a fanatical fan-base it seemed that most people had already caught the show on the Tuesday night. Their brand of energetic classic rock certainly went down smoothly with the DC fans that had made it inside, riff after riff The Answer delivered.

As the cavernous venue filled an assembled throng of metal-heads sporting leather and patches mixed with workers who’d come straight from the office. It was a diverse demographic united by flashing devil horns that greeted what might be the greatest opening to a concert ever conceived.

A cartoon sequence showing Angus and two buxom young ladies on a runaway train ended up going all ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ and a real train wreck burst through to the stage. This signalled the start of ‘Rock And Roll Train’ the only truly great moment of last year’s Black Ice release.

What followed was an absolutely textbook performance. AC/DC were never likely to produce any surprises, indeed the only risk they took turned out to be their only error. The band included a few too many from their last release; a charge that can be made of nearly every legendary touring band. For many ‘Black Ice’ and ‘War Machine’ signalled the chance to nip to the bar.

By the time the band ripped into another classic the crowd were rushing back to their seats. The set had been honed and choreographed to perfection; undeniably it was a sight to behold. Angus and Brian Johnston worked the crowd while the rhythm section stayed tight centre stage, the walkway was utilised during every song and Angus broke into his duck-walk at every opportunity.

The O2 crowd were treated to all of their signature props, from the inflatable woman for ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’ to the giant bell for ‘Hell’s Bells’ and best of all the cannons during ‘For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)’. At one point we saw Angus solo from a rotating extendible platform in the centre of the arena.

Smiles abound, a majority of the audience testify that the show was the greatest they have ever seen, for AC/DC it was absolutely routine.

Rating: 9/10

Bright young things kick off a lengthy headlining jaunt. 

Eleventh hour replacements for Pulled Apart By Horses, Diet Pills jangled hot-step of vicious hardcore went for the jugular.  Happily a tentative hometown crowd embraced the foursome.  Indeed they were forced to by spindly vocalist Garry Christopher who spent the set contorting on the venue’s floor, his yelp and sinister mumblings sharply broke through crushing noise. 

Diet Pills relied on volume for impact and as such their brutal immediacy divided opinion.  The bass so bone-rattling that the audience wasn’t sure whether to shake in euphoric adulation or simply wince, either way they were bound to feel something.

Grammatics’ brand of dramatic pop went down very well indeed.  Foppish in appearance and inoffensive in style, they appeared the type of band that will be lauded by musos before being discarded and labeled dull by the time their second or third album comes around.  

‘Shadow Committee’ carried an interesting syncopated guitar part and swelling use of the cello but only ‘Relentless Fours’ excited.  A well paced song with a catchy guitar line that builds into feedback and cries of ‘Everyone loves a breakdown.’

Perhaps such sentiment is a churlish link to Rolo Tomassi’s performance but parts Converge and parts Fall of Troy they appeared every inch the scene leaders of hardcore in Britain.  What’s more they have been coveted by populists all over the country with journalists and fans swooning over vocalist Eva Spence.  Indeed, in a field drenched in testosterone and posturing she came across as unassuming as she did pretty.  

The group’s incendiary screamo (more akin to Amanda Woodward than The Used) was launched out of synthesizers that comfortably occupied the space between Nintendo style bleeps and atmospheric soundscapes.  From such beginnings the band built to all out assault mode on tracks like ‘Oh, Hello Ghost’ and ‘Abraxas’. 

This almighty cacophony often darted from side to side with James’ and Eva’s dueling vocals but it was guitarist Joe Nicholson that held prominence.  His angular guitar parts induced such vivacity and gave license to Eva’s unearthly shriek. 

The group closed with single ‘I love Turbulence’; a cavalcade of twisting guitar lines and strange, haunting singing sections.  A somewhat cut and paste amalgamation of everything that came before, the finale unfortunately withered away an otherwise thrilling set.

Rating: 8.5/10

Heirs apparent to the emo throne:  The Georgian five-piece debuted new songs in the capitol.

There was a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air around Chalk Farm.  The night was a sell-out and Manchester Orchestra was being touted across message-boards as the next big thing in emo.  About to release a follow up to 2006’s I’m Like A Virgin, Losing A Child they were in town for a one-off. 

First up was Dead Confederate, hailing from a town twenty minutes down the road from the headliners [Georgia].  A whiney voice, derivative of grunge in its heyday introduced a whirling crescendo of noise.   The band lacked nothing in conviction or volume but sadly more enjoyment was garnered from the frenetic mass of the drummer’s hair. 

By the time Manchester Orchestra hit the stage, the crowd appeared thinned due to a spectacular puddle of sick [it was the school holidays].  The carefully positioned masses were delivered a set comprised almost entirely of tracks from the soon to be released Mean Everything To Nothing.  With a marked progression towards down-tuned guitars and bigger riffs, this was the sound of a band bidding to escape the ‘emo’ tag. 

The nonchalant quiet of ‘One-Hundred Dollars’ gave way to the massive Sabbath sized riff of ‘Pride’.  Frontman Andy Hull thrashed his guitar in between songs, proclaiming that he has ‘always wanted to be in a band that tune up that way’. His voice however retained comparison to Jesse Lacey’s [Brand New] pitched lament.  Indeed the new material marked a similar progression to that of Brand New’s last two records.

They might not have turned into metal behemoths overnight but it was enough to confuse the assembled throng.  Whilst appreciative, the crowd remained tangibly static [possibly to avoid the mess upfront].  Thankfully the band was less restrained, in particular keyboard player come second drummer Chris Freeman convulsed, cutting a hunched Quasimodo-like figure about to burst out of his ripped t-shirt. 

In the end the brutal delivery of ‘In My Teeth’ and ‘Shake It Out’ was counterbalanced by ‘The River’ a haunting, atmospheric piece with the chilling refrain of ‘I’m gonna leave you the first chance I get’.  And finally the lovelorn escapade was rounded-off with the simplistic beauty of Paul Simon’s ‘You’re Kind’.

With the set lasting a meager forty minutes, the crowd was left wanting more.  Many were disappointed with the lack of older material but with a stellar new album it looks doubtful that Manchester Orchestra will want to look back. 

Rating: 4/5