Articles by Jared Dix
As always with Hecker it’s emotional but rich and complex, allowing for multiple possibilities.
End Of The Middle is another extraordinary achievement for Dawson (or Rich), it’s compassionate, smart and unfailingly human.
Great from top to bottom, front to back. Honestly, while it joins an impressive discography it’s up there with his very best.
At times the whole album feels suspended between deep breaths at the edge of sleep.
Their ‘parole jazz’ party is a wild affair of drum rumble, filthy bass and squalling sax. Overpowered by skronk.
Heart-thumping skronk punk belters descending into manic twisted noise. It’s tremendously good fun.
Not the sort of band to play the hits exactly but also undoubtedly, and perhaps essentially, an incredible live experience.
Drones and samples, bass distortion, jazz drums and industrial grind. They don’t really do repeating phrases or loose improvisation. It changes and surrounds.
Stripped back instrumentation paired to punchy structural minimalism for a sound that is both urgent and intimate.
Sunday at Supersonic: stages full of smoke and a long soak in folk. . . with a bouzouki and balloons to finish.
A night floor filler that lurches around the hall, arms raised, wild happy drunk from this stone faced weirdo party band.
The day begins with the disappointing news that Atlanta hardcore team Upchuck. . . aren’t going to make it, tipping today’s line-up even further in favour of duos. Quite a selection today, all making a heck of a racket with just two people. The rise of the duo intrigues me; are the reasons technological, logistical, financial or even cultural?
Friday includes the sitting room of a haunted cottage, the incantations of Welsh witches, fluoro-badgers in hoodies roaming the streets, noise-rock anime super heroes, and samosas for starters.
I suggest you disregard “I was there” weakeners and enjoy it, it’s an unexpectedly fun gift in terrible times.
Well now, this year’s Supersonic Festival will be sat in your lap and licking your face before you can learn to pronounce Bríghde Chaimbeul’s name. Still a handful of tickets left if you’re lucky; if you’re already set then it’s time to start circling stuff on the running order and wondering who owns a bag so small you couldn’t fit an A4 book in it.
Tunes packed with ideas and constant dynamism. It’s exhausting, it’s exhilarating. Scream if you wanna go faster.
The celebrated artistic director sat down with Jared Dix to discuss the past and present of Birmingham’s underground gem, and what an uncertain future might hold.
The worst thing about this record is going to be the fact there’s nothing on the other side. Get it.
