It had a confusing name. Bewilderment was the initial reaction of me and probably everyone who went. What the hell is an Owl Parliament? Why are there Owls? Have they finally agreed to representative government? Answers to these questions were not forthcoming, but I bought a ticket immediately after seeing the incredible line-up for what was billed as an indoor folk-festival. At £24 this was a bonafide folk bargain. Three of the best folk musicians out there, a couple of other really good folks and like four I’d never heard of. None the less at that price I’d pay just to see a Jeff Lewis gig, throw in his Junkyard Band, Herman Dune as well as Laura Marling and this looked like the gig deal of the decade.
With it being a festival I emerged from my tent kind of late, so I missed the first two acts. I can’t review music I didn’t see, but my friend was there from the start and she saw We Aeronauts. She had this to say, “I was watching them and I wasn’t sure about it. But then I’ve definitely decided, they are in my top five worst bands I’ve ever seen live.” What she meant was that they were in the worst five bands she’d ever seen live. Far be it for me to quibble, I wasn’t there, I can only report from the secondary reading and she did not elaborate.
The first band I did see was the lovely Planet Earth. Their brand of low impact thoughtful folk was a nice way to start the day. They’ve developed a small cult following for their gentle melodies, but Planet Earth stand out from the plethora of young British folkers due to lead singer Sam’s nonchalant voice and clever lyrics. His words are often tinged with that anti-folk literality that is becoming ever more commonplace. At Owl Parliament they were good, but didn’t really get much better. Perhaps their nonchalance was too pronounced or their melodies not enough so, but their pleasant set wasn’t particularly memorable, especially in light of the folking amazing music to come.
Next up was the real surprise of the day, Mechanical Bride aka Lauren Dross and co. Her inventive stripped down version of Rihanna’s Umbrella got a lot of airplay last year, but other than that Mechanical Bride are relatively unknown, at least I hadn’t heard of them. They put on a genuinely exciting performance. The rousing haunting percussion and the interestingly unusual melodies were threaded through the constant of Lauren’s powerful voice. This reassuringly loud voice was given centre stage when she played See Worlds on only her glockenspiel. It was an accomplished performance but left me pining for the rest of the band and their percussion, a theme which was to continue throughout the day.
First though, was Peggy Sue, possessors of a hearty backing band with drummer et al. The mockney accent always seems a little forced and Kate Nashy, but I’m told that is their real accent so I suppose I can’t hold that against them. Their vocal harmonies are nice, but not strikingly original or varied. A real miscalculation came when they chose to hammer out a rhythm on an old wine box. This while a full size drum was standing less than a foot away! The wine box did not sound good, and the presence and proximity of that perfect percussion was practically panto. That being said their cover of All N My Grill by Missy Elliott went down very well, even if it was a bit folked up.
After a short break we had the male pin-up of the UK folk scene (at least he is vying for the title with Charlie Fink from Noah and the Whale), Johnny Flynn. The customary whistles and screams from the crowd greeted his first appearance. It was a real shame that his fantastic backing band The Sussex Wit didn’t follow him on stage. The old British folk style that they play is quite distinct from the contemporising done by their contemporaries, and just Johnny and his guitar lacked the complexity and depth that The Sussex Wit brings. Flynn played little new material. This was perhaps due to the nature of the day, with many if not most people there to see people other than him Flynn could play those tried and tested classics he’s been singing for a couple of years now. Of particular interest was his solo rendition of Tickle Me Pink, a delicate and beautiful number that is incidentally one of the finest comedown songs ever written. Where Flynn really lost marks was on his stage banter, his exquisitely terrible words were as follows. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the day… and… um… the rest of everything.” An undeniably pretty boy, but perhaps not much of a thinker?
Laura Marling has grown in stature and age in the past year, if not in actual size. With new hair and red lipstick she looked, if at all possible, even more like a porcelain doll than usual. Yet make no mistake for this is no fragile creature. Her voice is incredible, so much so that it has me labelling her, probably naively, as this generation’s Joni Mitchell. Her new material sounds suitably stunning, Rambling Man in particular. Although Laura too came with none of her friends, thus I reserve judgement on the new stuff until I’ve heard it with the full band. Marling is an incredible talent but when matched with the similarly talented Marcus Mumford, who normally does her backing vocals, the music has a power greater than the sum of its parts. The solo version of Ghosts in particular left my ear pining for the complexity I’d become accustomed to.
Jeff Lewis was eleven. The man quite frankly smashed it. He had The Junkyard band along to play with him and they tore up the stage as they turned it up to eleven. Sitting as I was on the first floor, Jeff’s fairly noticeable balding patch completely vanished as he bounced around the stage. The Crass covers he did went down phenomenally with the crowd. A Short History of North Korea was just brilliant. Here Jeff held up the comic he drew himself and sung along, actually giving the audience exactly what the song title suggests. In addition, Jeffrey Lewis’ crowd banter was hilarious and involving without being intrusive. Every label, both major and minor, should give lessons in stage banter with head-lecturer Professor Jeffrey Lewis. The real treat of the day was The Chelsea Hotel Oral Sex Song, a six-minute post-modern song about music, sex, love and song writing, all contained in a short anecdote about standing outside the Chelsea Hotel. It is to my mind one of the best songs written in the past twenty years. Jeff rarely plays it, he says this is because he’s worried he’ll forget the lyrics. Not a word was out of place here however, and it capped off a performance that was nothing short of amazing.
Last on the billing was Herman Dune, these French anti-folkers were an impressive if not stellar end to the day. One of the difficulties of Herman Dune live is that it’s sometimes quite hard to hear what David’s saying. If you’ve heard all of their many albums and know all their lyrics then this isn’t much of a problem. Such was clearly the case for a girl on the third row, who seemed indeed to know all the lyrics to every song of every band. For the rest of us though, some of the subtleties of Herman Dune’s playful lyrics are a little lost. Of course the strength of the tunes as always shone through and David’s languid almost insectoid stage presence was a joy to behold.
Owl Parliament was a monumental day of some of the world’s finest modern folk music. A call for more backing bands would probably be met with a rebuttal about much longer waits in between sets. All that is left to say is next year, should the line-up be but half as good, you should definitely make it down to The Union Chapel for some Parliamentary goodness. I for one will be joining you, although next time accompanied by a fairly hefty cushion.
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