Muse - The Den, Teignmouth, 04/09/09

It says a lot about Teignmouth that there literally are road signs pointing to 'out of town'. There's not a lot to do there, bar leave. It's a seaside town of 15,000, and is basically notable for nothing apart from being Muse's hometown. You see, Muse are Teignmouth's equivalent to The Beatles, in a sense; almost everyone has some kind of anecdote relating to them, some connection or other, mainly incredibly tenuous by nature.

This duo of gigs is, over the space of a weekend, pretty much doubling Teignmouth's population. They may not be much of a surprise to locals (my friends and I have been speculating and hearing vague rumours of something along these lines for years, as have many others, I'm sure) but they're certainly an event. There are 'welcome home Muse' signs and banners in almost every shop window - then again, events are fairly thin on the ground in Teignmouth. If it's a sense of occasion you're after, though, Muse are never the band to disappoint.

Soon-to-be-released new album, The Resistance, is due to be either the best or worst album of 2009, depending on who you listen to. Signs suggest that it could go either way. Lead single 'Uprising', tonight's opener, is fairly standard Muse on a mediocre day - average, with slightly spacey synths and a chanted chorus which was done far better on 'Knights of Cydonia'. 'United States of Eurasia', too, is pure, Queen-aping silliness. When Matt Bellamy suddenly breaks into a loud wail of "there can only be OOOOONE!" it's hard not to laugh, let alone take it seriously. Okay, I'll be honest - I actually did laugh. Out loud.

Then again, there are also 'Unnatural Selection' (lovely, yet featuring an outro which wouldn't sound out of place coming from Metallica) and 'Undisclosed Desires' ("I would wait a thousand years / just to see you smile again"). So it's not all bad news.

And, of course, there are the classics. I've lost count of the number of times I've heard amateur manglings of the opening riff to 'Plug In Baby', but when done properly, it's simply electrifying. 'Knights of Cydonia', too, is superb - a galloping romp through a surreal space-age spaghetti western, strange and sublime. 'New Born' thunders across the Teignmouth seafront, and 'Hysteria''s serpentine guitar solo sounds nervily incendiary.

Forget their half-baked conspiracy theory politics - Muse have always been at their best when they're getting personal. Which is exactly why tracks like 'Starlight' are, arguably, among their best. They have the capability to make even a huge crowd feel like a communally intimate experience, and that's certainly the case tonight. Mass-handclaps and singalongs may not be most commonly accompanied by massive green lasers, but that's the beauty of Muse when they're on top form.

Yes, they're often overblown, and more than infrequently silly, but it only adds to their awkward charm. Muse are a band who can consistently be relied upon for a live show which strives towards the epic. In Teignmouth terms this is most definitely an event, but for once this isn't a criticism; it feels like an event in the most genuine sense. A homecoming, yes, but to many it's much more than that.

Amusing much?:

Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band - Outer South

I wanted to like this album, I really, genuinely did. I've been a fan of pretty much everything I've ever heard from Conor Oberst since first hearing Desaparecidos in 2003 or so, and I adored 2008's self-titled solo album; hearing him perform tracks from it at Reading was one of my musical highlights of last year. I really wanted to like this; unfortunately, the best I can think of to say is that it sounds like compilation of Oberst and friends on an off-day.

Firstly, it's interesting to note the name this album has been put out under. While last year's record was put out simply as a self-titled Conor Oberst album, despite the presence of the Mystic Valley Band, here they get full credit in the band name. It's an obvious statement of intent, and signals what becomes immediately obvious from even a single listen: this is much more of a band effort than 2008's eponymous disk.

It would be very easy to join the wailing masses on forums, shrieking about how "CONOR DOESN'T EVEN SING ON HALF THE TRACKS ON HERE!!!!!" but that's petty, a cheap shot. The fact that Oberst's vocals aren't always present isn't neccessarily a bad thing in itself; the fact that three out of the other four vocalists' vocals (Rilo Kiley drummer Jason Boesel's aside) aren't in anywhere near the same league as Oberst's, however, is. It's as if Conor has handed over the microphone to his bandmates, surrendering his own ego as he lets them take the spotlight, yet paid no attention to the quality of their voices. After all, they're his friends, right?

This is a record made by friends, make no mistake about it. The predominant feel of the record is that of friends relaxing, having fun and making music together - from the handclaps on Nik Freitas' 'Big Black Nothing' to the irritating call-and-response backing vocals which prevent 'Ten Women' from being the touching lament which it rightfully deserves to be.

The influence of others upon the songwriting - a process usually dominated by Oberst - causes the album to take on a sprawling feel. While much of it is as country as it comes, Taylor Hollingsworth's 'Air Mattress' sounds like Blink-182, had they grown up in Tennessee, and 'Nikorette' boasts a piano hook which is basically the same as that used by the Scissor Sisters on 'I Don't Feel Like Dancing'. The godawful 'Roosevelt Room' sees Oberst seemingly trying to reinvent himself along the lines of a politically acerbic AC/DC, all fuzzy guitar soloing and lyrics about "barefoot dudes down in New Orleans".

It would be unfair to dismiss Outer South as a completely charmless record. Boesel's 'Eagle on a Pole' is perhaps the album's stand-out track, providing a curiously different perspective to Conor Oberst's track of the same name. 'To All the Lights in the Windows', too, plays on Oberst's typically dense use of Biblical imagery, and 'White Shoes' is stripped-down and classic: just vocals and a creaking guitar. Tellingly, neither of the latter would sound out of place on a Bright Eyes album.

While Oberst's versatility and scope is often to be admired, here it ultimately falls flat. What could, handled differently, have built upon the successes of last year's solo record proves frustrating and incohesive; it's too long by far and just doesn't hang together as a collection of songs. Ironically enough, it's summed up in a lyric from 'Nikorette': "they steal your bright ideas and they make them dull". Sadly, it seems that Oberst and co. have done that themselves here.

Jonah Matranga, Exeter Cavern, 01.04.09

The Cavern is near-empty tonight; at a generous estimate there can't be more than 40 people inside, which is a terrible shame. After a prolific 18 years or so, including nine years and four albums as the frontman of influential melodic hardcore band Far, Jonah Matranga's never really made it beyond a cult following. Never mind, though - he's obviously not in it for the money, clichéd as it sounds.

Matranga openly states this intention himself in opener 'Livin' Small', as he insists that "if that's what passes these days for livin' large / then I'm happy livin' small", his vocal shaking with obvious, real emotion.

It's Matranga's voice, indeed, which forms the set's entrancing centrepiece: switching from a whisper to a half-shout within the space of just a few bars on 'We Had a Deal; a honeyed hum on 'Yr Letter'. Bolstered only by an electro-acoustic guitar, a drum machine and occasionally a sparse drumkit, it's mesmerising, to say the least. Equally endearing to the lo-fi set-up is Matranga's insistence on filling in as many of the parts as is possible on his own - singing the guitar solo, for example, on 'Not About A Girl Or Place'.

What's best of all, however, is Matranga's offer to play any requests from the audience. A veritable human jukebox: you name it, he's willing to play it. With a hefty back catalogue spanning five separate incarnations, there's a lot to choose from, yet he takes all suggestions in his stride, yielding a glorious 'Bitte Ein Kuss' and a heartwarming run-through of 'Smile'.

Impressive and inspiring, this is about as intimate as listening to a Walkman under the covers. Incredible.


Jonah Matranga - Not About A Girl Or Place

Jamie T, Oxford Academy 2, 02.03.09

(Note: yes, I am aware that this is a bit late. Bear with me, though; I've barely had time to breathe between then and now)



Oxford's Academy 2 seems a slightly strange place to be watching Wimbledon's Jamie T. While satisfactorily intimate, the venue carries a slight yet inescapable arua of the church youth club, which feels a little ill-suited to tales of binge drinking, uppers and Lahndan-tahn debauchery. No matter, though: Treays takes to the stage looking triumphant regardless. The cocky bugger.

Opening with the raucous 'Operation', Jamie T - along with four-piece backing band the Pacemakers - unleashes a rattling run-through of a genre-melding 70-minute set which barely drops its pace below a sprint.

Ostensibly an excuse to try out new tracks live, the five songs previewed tonight suggest that Treays's as-yet untitled second album will take a slightly different tangent from his critically-celebrated debut. 'Sticks and Stones' hints at a move towards a more conventional verse-chorus-verse song structure, while '368' is almost approaching anthemic and encore track 'Emily's Heart' is far softer and sweeter than anything he's released to date.

New album in the pipeline or not, this was never really about hearing something about new - a fact more than underlined by the rapturous reception received by the Panic Prevention tracks, which are here in abundance. 'Sheila' may be the "one track" which Treays has become instantly associated with, but the reception of album tracks such as 'Ike and Tina' almost rivals the likes of 'Calm Down Dearest'. And by the time he reaches 'If You Got the Money', you can barely hear Treays's vocals.

What's most striking about the performance, ironically, is how well-honed it is. It's occasionally shonky and more than frequently off-kilter, but it's a ramshackleness which belies a tight musicianship; the sprawling 'Alicia Quays' sounds vastly improved from 18 months ago. Clearly the downtime has been put to good use, then.

Leaving the stage amid a flood of promises that such a disappearance from the live scene won't be repeated any time soon, you can't help but think that maybe that first look of triumph wasn't self-knowing, after all. A cocky bugger? Certainly. Justifiably so? After a performance like tonight's, it's hard not to think that this may just be the case.

Emily's Heart (rough quality)


E.