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Bido Lito! April 2015 Reviews
Hooton Tennis Club (Jack Thompson / m0nks.co.uk)
record, Everything Is Fine lends emphasis to
Fine,
such a perception. No niceties however can
blunt the relentless energy that Hawk Eyes
have become purveyors of, as track after track
bludgeons those gathered in a dogged flurry
of unforgiving riffs. Polite and considerate the
band may appear, but hesitant and tempered
their live show certainly is not.
Thankfully, there is a degree of preparation
prior to the Leeds-based four-piece taking
centre circle. Local acts ELEVANT and MOTHERS
consecutively pile on the sonic pressure and
provide our ears with a little bit of training. The
theatrical performance of Elevant’s Michael
Edward (Vocals, Guitar) is perhaps received with
more uncertainty than the mesh of post-punk,
psychedelia and anything-in-between his band
delivers, but it passes the baton into the hand
of Mothers in fine fashion. Mothers retract some
of the eccentricities and replace them with
more noise, as the three-piece subsequently
indulge in a dense, sludgy paradise.
Assaulting their instruments and our eardrums
in a manner so rabid the whole room feels feral,
GOD DAMN’s direct and unbridled approach,
executed most decisively on the volatile Heavy
bidolito
bidolito.co.uk
Money
Money, provides the final stage of our pre-amp
prep. Thomas Edward (Guitar, Vocals) wails like a
man possessed behind a curtain of blond locks.
It isn’t pretty, but it’s overwhelming, and, most
importantly, very, very satisfying.
A cursory breather in between sets has thus
far this evening been forgone, and the trend is
maintained as, after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing,
Hawk Eyes descend into an unrelenting sonic
assault. Favourites Witchhunt, Headstrung and
I Hate This, Do You Like It? are delivered at an
impeccable pace, each riff as focused as it is
fatal. Astick’s vocals are typically robust, and
his performance equally vigorous. The perfect
balance of savagery and restraint, he throws
himself into every vocal and guitar line with
the intention to kill. He threatens to calm
things down a little bit when he dons a pair of
glasses and ties back his hair, though within
seconds he has reverted to the wide-eyed
force which suits him so well.
The true treat of the evening arrives in the
form of the band’s most recent single The
Ballad Of Michael McGlue, which Astick informs
us is “the first time we’ve played this song”. It’s
easy to forget tonight’s outing is as a result
of new material, with each track seamlessly
slipping into the next without losing any of its
feral, unbridled force.
As the aggressor fades, the pleasantries
again take centre stage. There is a wild spirit
which takes residency within the heart of
Hawk Eyes, and, for all the niceties on show, it
is this which guarantees the ride is so sweet.
Dangerously sweet.
Ben Lynch / @benlynch07
HOOTON TENNIS CLUB
Hannah Lou Clark – Rongorongo
Harvest Sun @ The Shipping Forecast
According to the Echo, RONGRONGO got
together over “a romantic leaning for extreme
metaphors”, and for once I’m inclined to
believe tomorrow’s fish and chip paper. The
band, while baby-fresh to the live circuit, let
an ominous atmosphere trail after them, the
sort that New Romantics used to look forward
to before the dry ice ran out. Musically, their
interests hook into the somnambulant ache
of a synthesizer, dispersing feather-light
vocals and doomy bass over a clutch of pop
songs that desperately need more chutzpah.
Riffs sludge and spike upon miserablist clifftops, though if you think anyone’s going to
be jumping off anytime soon, think again.
Rongorongo are spooky enough without
being hair-raising, but there’s enough here to
suggest we keep an eye on them for the future
– they might discover Coleridge or Keats, and
then they’d be truly away.
By comparison, HANNAH LOU CLARK has all
the self-imposed cool of a cucumber on stress
medication. Her easy, distinctive voice carries
more than a hint of Waxahatchee about it; ditto
the soft distortion on her guitar, cutting the
bullshit out of fare like Kids In Heat, feeding
that sweet spot of regret and optimism perfectly
attuned to twenty-something anxiety and the
bloom of car-crash relationships. She pulls off
a classic bar-singer trick – this \