Captive State+ Major McCa + Smokey Angle Shades, The Slaughtered Lamb, Farringdon, 6-5-2008
Something in ‘Downstairs at the Slaughtered Lamb’ suggested I was in for a dingy, morose evening of third-rate bands accompanied by a handful of long-suffering fans and the gloomy regulars. Nothing could have been further from the case. The venue can only be described as a well-kept hotel lounge from the sixties, with fake potted plants, mood lighting and kitch wallpaper. The audience was remarkably genteel as well, mostly made of up very happy Captive State fans/invitees. Credit to Captive State as they appear to be keeping the punters coming back well into their residency – or new punters coming in?
More on them later though, as we start the round up with Smokey Angle Shades. They’re a bedraggled, top-hat wearing acoustic four-piece with a Crosby-Stills-Nash & Young setup: 3 guitars plus a bass and all four singing in harmony. And they’re damn good.
Unfortunately these days, it is miraculous when a band gets more than 2 people to sing vaguely in harmony. Thus, any barbershop element inevitably leads to knee-jerk Beach Boys comparisons. But I refuse to stoop to that. The Shades are a cut above those poncy Beach Bums and firmly from the country-blues school of CSNY. Hearts are broken, soulful harmonies are delivered with gusto, and there’s no fucking surf-board in sight. Wrapping up a concise set, the principal hat-wearer shows some deft fiddle-playing skills, adding a touch of flair to an extremely competent performance. Go listen to them up on Myspace – but consider that their songs are better without drums. Smokey Angle Shades are the real McCoy, in stark contrast to the next guy.
For every original 60s hippy-country-rocker-type such as Neil Young, who can carry off a solo show with consummate ease, there is a similarly-clad imposter such as Major McCa who cannot. Long hair and beard may suggest the wise old rocker of experience, but McCa’s displaced baseball cap and somewhat tender years revealed him to be more of a North-American “Blink” nerd than anything else. And lack of experience told, as McCa delivered a solo set that was, frankly, a bit of a mess.
Almost with an air of desperation he tried to keep us entertained in different ways: some clarinet playing, a brief tap-dancing routine, and “playing bass with his feet” (on an organ-like pedal board). Original as these circus tricks were, none of them were pursued for any length of time or in the context of a good song, hence they just remained circus tricks.
Seeping through the jumble though were one or two toe-tappin’ tunes. A Jimi Henrix-like rocker with electric guitar plus bass drum had the arty spaciousness of the best White Stripes songs, but his constant verbal padding between songs, wandering off-stage with a non-amplified banjo that we couldn’t hear, forgetting his “drummer joke” and constant references to his own performance did wear thin. And no, playing bass with your feet does not make you the hardest-working man in rock and roll ahead of James Brown.
“You went to my school mate!” says Joseph Kennedy, lead singer of Captive State, as I arrive at the Slaughtered Lamb. Indeed. I seem to remember Joseph was the first pupil in Senior Choir whose voice broke. Before Mr Andrew kicked him out, Joe gave a raucous rendition of Bizet’s Duet from the Pearl Fishers, belting out his part in glorious tenor, drowning out all the other weedy trebles, and ending on a deafeningly high note with the words “Jusqu’à…. la mort!”. These days he lends his exuberance to Captive State, accompanied by co-founder Tom Bootle on keys plus a wealth of other musical talent including DJ, accordion and the horn section I was promised.
Captive State kickstart into Mona, the first song off their Elmore Grove EP, an excellently balanced funk-blues nugget. The drum part with its nonchalant hippy swagger, plus fingered guitar riff, provide a pulsating groove, overlaid with smooth brass and keyboard. A drunk Scotsman standing next to me sees I’m taking notes. He points out that the phrasing of the line “Mona… is waiting to be queen”, makes Mona wait just that much longer, musically. This guy’s got to be a fan. Lazy and soulful, the tune is indeed top-drawer.
Captive State set the bar high, and the first handful of songs live up to the opener, including Lost, a chugging soft-rock number. Also from the EP, China White Doll appears to be their wave-your-lighter-in-the-air song. It had the drunk Scotsman in floods of tears. While not entirely my bag, the song showed moments of promise, including a dulcet Joni Mitchell “River”-like piano coda.
But as the gig went on, a worrying trend saw the State almost capitulate into middle-of-the-road Coldplay waftiness. The beats became plodding, the tunes less convincing and the balance spoilt by far too much keyboard “wash” – think Pink Floyd or Genesis at the wrong end of their careers. The audience, including the drunk Scotsman, seemed unperturbed. But the State went on to show their character, bringing the set back from the brink, thanks to their excellent musicianship and Joe’s relentless enthusiasm, ending on a cheeky kazoo.
Captive State are a tight, well-organised band. The various sounds blend seamlessly with each other, exemplified by dulcet horn, accordion and organ combos counterbalancing the general funkiness. They could do with being a bit more adventurous, as their setup certainly allows it, and steering clear of the M.O.R.
By B.M.
