Saturday, November 03, 2007

Jeremy Gawp

Maps/Jeremy Warmsley, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Saturday October 6 2007, 7.30pm.

In what is becoming something of an increasingly self-referential Parallax View trend your chaotic correspondent arrives at the venue just as the first support act finish the last song of their set. All we can relate is that there are quite a few of them and they made a pleasing post-rock din but due to the on-the-go demands of the weekend (the gig is sandwiched in between the Villa v West Ham game and going to see the Ian Curtis biopic) don't get the chance to do the research to find out who they are. Parallax View is very, very sorry.

There's something naggingly familiar about the second act as he makes his meek but quietly assured way to the stage, and your hapless hack lets his face drop slightly on the realisation it's Jeremy Warmsley again, who we've seen twice before (at Summer Sundae and supporting I'm From Barcelona) in the last seven weeks. Now the problem with the fact that there's a sparse attendance so far at the venue is that you're a little exposed to the artist and embarrassingly Jez seems to clock my aghast expression and keeps a close eye on me for the rest of the show.

If this ensures your busted blogger remains on his best behaviour the same can't be said for a young man at the front who'd obviously started the pre-gig celebrations a little earlier than perhaps he should, and is sadly making a bit of a dickhead of himself. Warmsley asks him to behave himself and then heads to the barrier and has a quiet word in his ear while keeping an eagle eye on your studious scribe at the same time. We called on our lip-reading expertise and can advise with no degree of certainty whatsoever that what he said to the unfortunate young man in question was 'see that bloke over there, you're going to end up in his blog if you're not careful'. These wise words don't appear to do the trick, however, and Jez justifiably drops his calm reasonableness for a marvellously stroppy 'oh, just FUCK OFF!' instead, before finally security takes the matter out of his hands and escorts the nuisance off the premises.

Perhaps it's the distracting circumstances making us more pre-disposed to giving Jezza a fair hearing, but we find ourselves enjoying his show a bit more at the third time of asking. He seems to get the balance right between the slower and jauntier numbers, but does frustrate us with telling us there's a good joke hidden in the lyrics of one of his songs, because your attention-deficited amateur just can't concentrate for long enough to get it.

Troubling eye contact isn't an issue with main act Maps as they make the sort of symphonies that induce your blissed-out blogger to close his eyes and wig-out to the pulsating waves of sonic splendour. There are people who get paid decent money for writing about music who'd have you believe that Maps can't cut it in the relatively uncharted uncharted territories of the live arena, but take it as read from this Parallax Viewer these idiots don't know what they're talking about. If tunes like 'Eloise' and 'It Will Find You' can inspire this unco-ordinated upstart to shake a limb then these rhythms are chancers that will prove that fortune always favours the brave. Top marks for the roadie wearing a Medium 21 t-shirt as well - further proof that not everything coming out of Northampton is cobblers.

Related Link: Sweeping The Nation's Friendly Chat With...Jeremy Warmsley from last year. He's had a haircut since then, mind.

Labels: , , , , ,


Post a Comment

<< Home