Scratch
The Blue Bar, London
2nd December 1998
Tonight`s first act is in fact a trio of buskers on the tube, ineffectually blasting each carriage with their 30-second cod-Mariachi on accordion, reeds and tambourine. Despite their earnest playing and impressive ability to walk along the moving carriage into King’s Cross Station and play at the same time, business is not good. Whether Karamasov would get any spare change is open to debate; as a prog rock band in the Nineties, they’ve probably got the right popular cultural moment for their mix of swirling, spacey synths and energetic Rock manouevres. A few years ago it was the territory of the Ozrics or Hawkwind, and roundly despised by anyone who wasn’t under the influence of a Purple Om or two, mocked as the last refuge of the musically competent and the Hippily wasted.
Hell, if Karamasov can be found in a hip and happening Experimental Electronic club like the Scratch (helpful signs on the door reminded punters that the HipHop Scratch club was the next day), then there’s probably hope for a Here & Now revival. There were cellos on stage too, and some moments which resembled a (quite successful) collision between NEU! and Yes – so those who pilloried Tortoise for getting all prog on the kids could be a)right or b)in for a full-on Magma revival (which could be just what the Millenium needs).
As for Tarwater, even their roadies wear black suits and polonecks, which is not only damn’ cool, but makes for an interesting setting up time between the bands. Unfortunately, that’s about all there was to look at – Karamasov took their light show home – and while the sounds were to the high standards of the Silur album, they were also predominantly DAT-based, mixed around by Ronald Lippok and accompanied by Bernd Jestram‘s uncomfortable-looking but effectively warm bass fingering. Perhaps it’s no surprise that the crowd couldn’t keep quiet and listen to the music – it’s just not suited to live performance in a club space. The hushed vocal delivery and relaxed beats of a song like “No More Extra Time”, no matter how well delivered, just cry out for comfy seats and a better-arranged sound system than the Blue Bar offers.
Tarwater aren’t unique in suffering this problem – they’re also not quite in the realms of background ambience, and demand attention more than the cocktail lounge environment. There are some hypnotic beats, but they’re not going to move anyone to frenzy either, so they’re caught in a bind between a live band and a more static artistic performance. Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, it’s off to the South Bank Centre we go…
-Antron S. Meister
