wilco, friday october 28th, 2011, camden roundhouse

feeling warmed by the band's slight return to that kind of shaggy, jagged awkwardness from the 'yankee hotel foxtrot' and 'ghost is born' days, brought around by the equal parts meditative, sedative and regenerative new record 'the whole love', a wilco crowd can count itself a happy crowd in the glow of potential for this couple o' london shows. they've always given big in the uk, even the most hateful spits of 'i'd like to thank you all for nothing' jetting from 'misunderstood' seemed aimed a little to the side rather than at the ever lovin' crowd on these shores and those epic, event-feel gigs at the troxy and royal festival hall, combined with overwhelming, overblown headline sets at green man and end of the road over the last few years are gonna get you expecting nothing less than fireworks - even if we hadn't hit halloween yet.
it ain't that, though, it's a different creature that joins us in this packed, niggly venue.
it's wilco the touring band playing their touring band set to their fans, just as they would anywhere else, any other night of the week. it's a different, altered and edifying experience.
tweedy is tighter lipped than ever, pausing brash, bold run-throughs of whatever crosses their mind (from 'black bull nova' to 'born alone' to 'i am trying to break your heart there's no real logic or quality control - it's a ton of wowing,weird, wonk-walking songs) only to apologise for a poor set at shepherd's bush aeons ago and mutter the (very) occasional 'thanks'.
the songs flood out of the band - tweedy and cline in particular looking like this is happening to them, not them controlling it - the much-derided 'one wing' gaining anthem status here, and huge love, while 'jesus etc' is promoted from it's usual crowd singalong status to artfully performed heartcrusher.
cline's guitar playing is like thunder - this we know - but it's a force of nature he's refining and refining, much as tweedy pares back his sentiment to deliver his best work in years, played here tonight in the form of 'one sunday morning' (maybe the best thing he's ever written) and 'the whole love' title track.
so there's no sense of big-gig here, maybe cos it's night one of a two night stand (saturday's show will hold a wildly changed set and an appearance from nick lowe) - but you get the feel of 'just' seeing wilco - one of the best bands in the world, no doubt, 'just' play a great show - 19 songs, an hour and 45 minutes of glorious business as usual.
they may not give the answer to the question you asked but they tell such a stunning story you are lost to them anyway.

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cigarette burns double-bill, prince charles cinema, 26th october 2011

a double of the original, all-canadian 'my bloody valentine' and 'rosemary's killer (aka the prowler)' was always gonna draw us in. if there's one thing in the world you have to love it's a terrible murder, preferably combined with a line of needless exposition or a look straight into the camera.
both of tonight's movies are based around a seemingly unnecessary dance party. the need to have these parties often outweighs the need to continue living. strange.
five things we learned from 'my bloody valentine':
1/ mines are a strong aphrodisiac. even in the face of getting a pickaxe through the gullet, you will want to have sex in any given mine.
2/ there is no alternative to 'moosehead' beer in canada. there's probably not even water.
3/ there are parts of canada where cops (at least in the early 80s) refer to grown men with jobs in the mining industry as 'kids'. this may be a cultural thing.
4/ a trail of upside down hearts will lead you to a murder victim. or at least to the washing machine next to the one she's in.
5/ witnessing a murder as a child can and will make you imitate said murderer later in life. so keep yer eyes closed.
while there were hoots aplenty and the greatest barman in film history ('ASSHOLES!') here in valentine's bluff, and an original x-cert print in which to take joy, the night really hit home with the rare 'rosemary's killer'. 
it's nonsensical.
it plays out in near-real time (after the 35 year leap).
the girls are much cuter than in mbv - and the murders are longer, more laborious and infinitely more horrible. good stuff, right?
maybe.
it's professional, big budget stuff set against mbv but lacks that movie's sense of fun. though it does share it's crazed narrative inconsistencies, plot-holes bigger than the gaps in everyone's bodies after the eponymous dude does his thing with the pitchfork. the ending is pure wha? which makes it even better.
savini's effects are a thing of sickening wonder as ever - you've got to love those rolled-back all-white eyes - great detail.
the cigarette burns tee on sale was a beauty - a romantic, glitter-bombed two-header of the masked killers and a constant reminder to wearers - don't ever organise any kind of dance in the early 80s - killers with the most unlikely identities WILL interrupt your fun. with knives.

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Bon Iver, Hammersmith Apollo, October 24th, 2011

bon iver, first a guy called justin in a cabin, then a tender-voiced tenor winning over sparsely populated fields and tiny, sardined clubs across the world along with his deep woods debut, then a strange, doped, strangled voice on a kanye record, now a 9-piece band selling out two nights at one of the capital's most storied halls.

overwhelmed we were once at end of the road festival - his mid-afternoon set cracking virgin ears and bursting fresh hearts with a vocal quiver and a strummed guitar, a teary revelation.

now crammed in the oversold theatre, sweating, we greet a famous, world-renowned artiste.

but instead of just doing the old thing but a little bigger, vernon gets it right: there's real ambition, grace and dedication to what goes on here tonight.

two drummers? right, right. but always with purpose and never drowning the precision of brass, bass, sequencer and strings.

'perth' crawls up, loose-limbed and lythe before exploding, off-beats and bursting bombs, an opening grenade landed perfectly. 

no halt, just majestic 'minnesota' into trembling 'towers', a jazz trance saxophone soaked 'blood bank' (civilians get twitchy as the sax solos through an effects pedal for an uncomfortably long time...lucky for them there's a fully stocked bar at the back).
'beach baby' allows a breath, more open and light than the dense, twisted trunks of previous tunes. everything here is so delicate, complex, considered but never loses truth, heart, honesty. rhythmic recorded turns are stretched and tensed, skin-like over humming drums, the upper reaches of vocal and violin trilling soft then searching, scratching hard against solid brass. these tunes, live, are mathematical spirituals, gospel grids - the bold buildings that the record laid out the blueprints for.
an architect alone, mr vernon soars on 're:stacks'..."your love is safe with me" brings some tears and some tapping at the eyes, teeth clenched and eyebrows pointed. it's an elusive  lyric, as we're used to - there's something imperceptible, borderline unintelligible about these harmonious words. you never quite get a hold of them as they skip ghostly around you, pricking your eyeballs, sometimes sprinkling sherbert in the spine.
'wolves' brings the screaming, the singing, the oneness of the night to a high, vaulting peak. encore screams like you'd have in dreams of being a beatle bring the sweet, shy shuffle of 'for emma' and then, lastly, we're at home with justin and the family, a kickdrum, a sung word and a handclap as we celebrate and mourn that 'skinny love' and the things he "told us".
bon iver is a soul band, ever-tightening, ever-expanding - all-inclusive and so elusive. those gorgeous fields of tunes can lay your head to rest and rise in your ears and chest like saplings.
good, true times.

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