Music reviews

Glasgow Royal Concert Hall

Michael Tumelty

LET'S go in at the deep end. On Saturday night, at the RSNO's performance of Benjamin Britten's War Requiem, conducted by music director Peter Oundjian with all of the orchestra's choral forces, three soloists singing with comprehension of the psychology of the music, and a vast orchestra distributed across a broad space, I was overwhelmed.

The ultimate litmus test for the effectiveness of a performance is not the level of intellectual comprehension you glean from the conductor's mastery of structures and detail; nor the orchestra's ability at delivering. The response is emotional. Did it touch you? Did it move you? I labour this because, from that subjective point of view, I was completely wrecked after this performance of extraordinary acuity, meticulous pacing, tremendous balancing, and stunning understanding from everybody involved of what everybody else was doing. It was a complete entity, and gave this listener one of the greatest musical experiences of his life.

Britten understood the pity and the horror of war. Wilfred Owen expressed it miraculously, harrowingly and intensely in his concentrated poetry. This performance brought all of the strands together into a seamless unity which, musically, avoided every trench and mudfall. The treacherous Dies Irae was pellucid and understated in its articulation; the off-stage chorus might have been singing from heaven. I wept openly throughout the exchanges of our soldiers for the night, tenor Jeffrey Francis and baritone Russell Braun, which were sung as one and completely broke me up: Britten's settings for these two are as profound as anything in Schumann; and the singing, from on high, of Russian soprano Evelina Dobraceva, replacing Susan Gritton, was lacerating in its intensity.

There is much to say, but this is essential. I tried to express it after the performance, but was too emotional to articulate. I am an admirer of Oundjian, but feel that I have been waiting for him to make a big statement that reveals something of himself, as well as of the music he makes. This was it. And it was masterly.

SCO

City Hall, Glasgow

Michael Tumelty

WHAT a concert. And what an occasion in Glasgow on Friday night as the legendary Japanese conductor Masaaki Suzuki made his debut appearance in the city with the SCO. His indestructible global reputation was founded, of course, on his seminal work with the music of Bach. And from what I gather, with his mighty Bach cantata recording project finally completed at 55 volumes, he's now spending his career persuading the world of all the other things he can do.

Thankfully he was persuaded to bring with him just one piece of Bach. And what a piece, in the great cantata Ich habe genug, which received a towering performance from the SCO and baritone Peter Harvey, whose tone hinted at no sense of resignation, but one of calm and profound acceptance, with perhaps a glimpse towards the eternal. I found it a deeply moving experience, and one, I suspect, that might have chimed personally with many listeners, certainly with this one, through I won't bore you with details.

That apart, it was Mendelssohn's night, with a superlative performance of the Reformation Symphony which, in the majestic, assured hands of this Japanese genius and the SCO playing with awesome homogeneity, was compact, concise and completely coherent. There are those who doubt the greatness of this symphony. Doubts were demonstrably demolished by a very superior account of the masterly piece.

I do think that Mendelssohn's original version of his youthful Eighth Sinfonia, for strings only, might have been more airy, and thus more effective in this context, than the pumped-up version for full band. Not many folk there for a cracking concert.

Arcade Fire aka The Reflektors

Barrowland, Glasgow

Nicola Meighan

There is a thrill in proximity. There is a charge of excitement that comes from seeing a globally revered cult-rock band in an intimate venue - rendering the untouchable touchable - no matter what they call themselves.

Until recently, they were known as Arcade Fire - a raggle-taggle Montreal troupe with an electrifying line in apocalyptic chamber-rock - but for this campaign, they are The Reflektors, invoking voodoo-rock and death-disco, while holding a mirror up to society, or humanity, or even just our fancy dress. Costumery was mandatory for the show, and what a sight it was to behold: a ballroom of ball-gowns, head-dresses and face-paint; top hats, tiaras and a dude in a Super Mario catsuit; two loved-up women in tuxedos and venetian masks (will you marry me?); sequined capes and balaclavas; a mariachi marching band.

Their James Murphy-produced new double-album, Reflektor, has been accused of outstaying its welcome on record (and tracks like Flashbulb Eyes do plod a bit), but its Haitian jams and loping grooves found their (dancing) feet in our party environment, especially the title track's hoodoo rays, the Byrne-ian lean-rock of Normal Person, the psychotropic slasher-funk of Afterlife, and the dread-core Macarena grind of Here Comes The Night Time.

Amid Devo covers, papier-mache heads, crowd-surfing and a show-stopping rendition of It's Never Over (Oh Orpheus) - Regine Chassagne was on typically spellbinding form - the biggest sparks flew from their earliest songs; from Arcade Fire's 2004 debut LP (and manifesto), Funeral. The calypso-rock charge of Neighbourhood #3 (Power Out) was a joy, and an encore of Wake Up raised the roof.

"We've been saving that one for a special occasion" beamed frontman Win Butler. And so it was.

Frightened Rabbit

O2 Academy, Glasgow

Nicola Meighan

Perhaps a billion Chinese people can be wrong, after all. According to their calendar, 2013 is the year of the snake, but countless fans of Scottish pop will assure you this has been the year of the Frabbit. This affectionate portmanteau of Frightened Rabbit has grown in usage as the band's profile has escalated from grassroots heartbreakers to national saviours - as testified their recent Top 10 album, Pedestrian Verse, and reinforced by this sold-out homecoming gig that had even the balcony roaring on its feet from the off.

Always a band to let their music do the talking, this thrilling, no-frills show was packed with Scottish indie sing-a-longs and melodic alt-rock anthems, generously drawing from Frightened Rabbit's 2008 magnum opus The Midnight Organ Fight (Head Rolls Off, Old Old Fashioned, an ecstatic encore of Keep Yourself Warm) and the excellent Pedestrian Verse (The Woodpile, December's Traditions, The Oil Slick).

A phenomenal opening one-two of current favourite Holy and 2008's The Modern Leper established the night's celebratory tone, and drew new lines between familiar songs (see also 2008's Fast Blood and last year's State Hospital), underscoring the consistency of frontman Scott Hutchison's exceptional songwriting, (anti-) religious idiom and forceful, fallible lyricism.

Their lighting and stage set were not showy, but they pulled dramatic punches - the climax of My Backwards Walk was blinding. And despite the stowed-out size of the room, it felt intimate - a sense enhanced by a solo acoustic interlude that included Floating In The Forth, and an almighty collective hush for the falsetto contrition of Acts Of Man, which saw Hutchison quietly, cautiously sing, "I'm not heroic, but I try." Oh, but he is.

Vampire Weekend

SSE Hydro, Glasgow

Jonathan Geddes

Stepping up to arenas is a tricky business. This tour by Vampire Weekend is clearly a statement of intent as they eye bigger stages, but going by all the curtained-off tiers at the Hydro their popularity hasn't quite matched that ambition.

That was the only disappointment in this exciting, muscular display. Admittedly, you could quibble with singer Ezra Koenig's fashion, given he walked onstage in what appeared to be a boiler suit and sunglasses. Once it transpired he wasn't here to fix the pipes, there was little to fault with his vocal, whether yelping with excitement or more reflective.

The sound overall was crisp, and for just a quartet they delivered complex, vivid noise, with the rhythm section of drummer Chris Tomson and perpetually moving bassist Chris Baio in particular deserving praise. If the band's songs can sometimes be languid, it was this section which pushed them forward more rapidly than on record.

No matter what pace the tunes took, whether the jittery cries of A-Punk, the bruising bursts of dirty noise pulsing through Diane Young or the shimmering guitar work of Step, the response was always lively from the audience, and while these twisty songs make unlikely anthems, they have evidently been adopted as such.

If there was a ramped-up nature to certain tracks, as on the rowdy Cousins and punky set-closer Walcott, it was heartening that the band's more creative side has survived the journey too, and evidently progressed from their earlier Afrobeat heavy work.

Ya Hey was superb, mixing spoken word and distorted vocals with a stomping backdrop, while the sombre Obvious Bicycle provided an eerie chant-a-long. This was smart, sharp music that deserved a bigger audience.

Queens of the Stone Age

SSE Hydro, Glasgow

Jonathan Geddes

As Josh Homme noted near the end of this gig, Queens of the Stone Age have now been a going concern for 17 years. Their desert-rock early days seem far away now, given their status as arena titans, and they've evolved to match that position.

The songs here were big, but it wasn't merely a case of upping the volume, although the noise was bone-jarring. It was instead in how their material now so regularly encompasses large tribal chants or filthy grooves that crowd-pleasers were never far away.

Some of the group's earlier Stoner quirks have perhaps been smoothed out in recent years, but not to the band's detriment. Burn The Witch bounced along gleefully, while some material from this year's …Like Clockwork album deftly weaved pure melody into the mix - I Sat By The Ocean was 1960s pop on steroids, and If I Had A Tail a strutting tune guaranteed to provoke lust on the dance floor.

That album, their first in six years, suggested a band back on form and they were in rude health here. The sound was powerful without being overwhelming, and drummer Jon Theodore has fitted in superbly, while Homme's louche charm as a singer remains intact.

Yet if the band's most striking new tunes veer towards the mainstream, it hasn't blunted old favourites. Better Living Through Chemistry mixed wooziness with virulent noise to great effect, having been preceded by Homme announcing that the government "should go f*** itself", as close to political statements as it gets for the group. The encore's Feel Good Hit Of The Summer and a senses-shattering Song For The Dead were, however, incendiary enough to soundtrack hedonistic revolution.

Breabach

Tolbooth, Stirling

Rob Adams

Breabach have grown up with the Tolbooth, as singer-guitarist and founder Ewan Robertson noted, and if this near-capacity audience was more in keeping with the quintet's lofty status as the Scots Trad Music Awards' current Folk Band of the Year than the modest attendance that witnessed their first appearance at the venue, their fans will ensure that their feet stay on the ground.

At one point, while introducing the finer points of a new piece, Robertson's fellow founder, piper and whistle and bouzouki player Calum MacCrimmon was advised to just get on with it, and Robertson didn't escape censure either. It's maybe the price they pay for involving their audience, chatting away about recent gardening prizes and inviting them to sing along on choruses and add clapping momentum to dance tunes. But they took it well and it didn't hinder them in getting across the music and songs from their new album, Ùrlar.

Drawn from visits to and reflections on their respective homes, these varied from bassist James Lindsay's dreamy Forvie Sands to the more workman-like train song, The Orangedale Whistle and continued Breabach's championing of the bagpipe tradition in general and pibroch in particular. They use this ancient art in different ways, adding one repeated motif at the end of their Edwin Muir adaptation, Scotland's Winter and adapting another pibroch, I Am Proud to Play a Pipe, into a kind of jolly minimalism with a club dance throb. With Gaelic songs and dance steps from fiddler Megan Henderson and James Duncan MacKenzie adding able flute, whistle and bagpipe playing, it was a good night, if one more given to solid music making than inspiration.

Alex Garnett's Bunch of Fives

Glasgow Art Club

Rob Adams

Not for the first time in the current Jazz Thursdays season the star attractions will be heading into the studio shortly after appearing at Glasgow Art Club, and not for the first time, the recorded results will be keenly awaited by those privileged to hear their preparation. The fact that James Maddren's drums play a key role in the success of both Julian Arguelles' quartet and Alex Garnet's Bunch of Fives is probably a coincidence but Maddren does have a talent for ensuring that the music retains a definite continuity.

It was an especially admirable trait here as Garnett, just as he showed on his previous visit, likes to present jazz in a variety of styles, rhythms and tempos. His tenor saxophone partnership with New Yorker Tim Armacost, sometimes playing in clean, clear unison, other times shadowing one another with superbly effective harmonies or angular commentaries, negotiated bossa, bebop and the briskest of standards as well as an impressionistic composition of Garnett's detailing an emotional outburst - and judging from its more reflective passages, its soothing aftermath.

Garnett never wastes a note in either his writing or improvising and Armacost complemented him perfectly as both soloist and frontline partner, developing extemporisations with, variously, passion and a cooler, more detached approach but always taking a logical path. It's no wonder that Garnett wants to get this band recorded as the rhythm section is more than just an engine room, with bassist Mike Janisch, like Maddren, a consistently propulsive, probing presence and the widely experienced pianist Liam Noble buzzing with ideas and contributing an array of moods, colour and questing imagination.