Live Review: Nakisha Esnard - The Finsbury 19/12/13

Charismatic, quick witted, versatile and in possession of a stunning, octave-spanning set of pipes, Nakisha Esnard was the gifted ringmistress of an oddly ramshackle show at a pre-festivities Finsbury. Fronting a pared-down reggaeish quartet and resplendent in checked shirt and bow tie, Nakisha thrummed at her mandolin while her super-soulful singing stretched the limits of her backers’ lazy skank palette, her prodigious energy initially too big for her band, even when her vocal meanderings focused on such prosaic subject matter as guzzling vino prior to the gig. Early doors, it all had the feel of a jam session, the Luton chanteuse even improvising a cheeky proposal to sack her group as another tune ran its apparently formless course. But perhaps this unorthodox, unstructured delivery was the better to showcase Nakisha’s hyperactive showmanship, her on-the-spot witticisms and off-the-cuff interactivity that drew the crowd to her. And, almost indescernibly, the band’s sparse dubisms began to assume an infectious, natural feel, no longer at odds with the singer’s expansive talents but offering a loose canvas to display her offbeat brushstrokes on original material that fused poppy r’n’b with all things roots. To further stir the melting pot, she finished with a ukelele-driven ska version of ‘Spice Up Your Life' sung in full operatic mode, which, as unlikely as it sounds, was hugely enjoyable. From the enormity of her voice right down to the personalised messages scrawled on the back of each of her flyers, Nakisha Esnard displayed effortless self-assurance as a musician and entertainer – a slick package given a twist tonight by its casual presentation.

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Live Review: Loom + Haus + Eighteen Nightmares at the Lux Live 29/11/13 The Finsbury

A band have to be pretty sure of their sonic prowess to face their audience with permascowls and hostility, but Loom have more swagger than a gathering of Gallagher brothers and certainly don’t lack for electrifying tautness and brute force. Blasting out angry grunge-punk of the weightiest order, their breezeblock miserablism is powered by a pounding rhythm section, two vigorous guitarists and a compelling frontman, Tarik Badwan, who, when not channeling a blend of Peter Murphy and Kurt Cobain, stands glowering and provocative. Who to provoke tonight, though, among the Finsbury’s typically diverse crowd, seemed to throw the band a little. Badwan’s forward surges were dramatic, but once at crowd-level it seemed there was nothing for it but to clamber back on stage. His coiled aggression was a fascinating watch, though, and the rest of the band offered a committed visual backdrop. Loom’s volcanically stroppy stance can’t detract from the fact that they are a band whose driving hardcore incorporates catchy refrain after catchy riff; a five-piece who, at their best nail the kind of pop-aware punk at which Nirvana excelled. ‘I Get A Taste’ was thrillingly spartan rock’n’roll, like a supersize Velvet Underground, while closing number and current single ‘Lice’ was another piledriver, Badwan repeatedly bawling “Get Out of My Head” before falling prostrate and exhausted on stage as the feedback faded around him. Heavyweight knockout indeed.

The evening had commenced with another eye-catching and uncompromising act, although Eighteen Nightmares at the Lux were on more of a psychobilly tip, playing fuzzy rock’n’roll with bombastic gothic vocals. The drummer and bowler-hatted bassist were done out in Joker-style make-up (the latter’s psycho-scarecrow look genuinely creepy), giving further indications of their schlocky horror bent. Their skittery rhythm and blues was reminiscent of The Cramps, sharing a slack and skeletal sound, although this nocturnal vaudeville act took a different turn during penultimate number ‘Master John’, when some glistening slide guitar came on like The Gun Club may have if they’d gone emo, giving Eighteen Nightmares their most distinctive song of the night.

In-between this heavy, heavy monster pairing were Haus, a youthful post-millennium-indie outfit, all polite melodies, spry dialect, contrapuntal chops, rimshots and tom rolls. Three guitarists seemed a touch OTT, given the marginal disparities in each one’s playing, but this is a style that relies on such subtle distinctions and, anyway, the six members look as much a set of mates as a band (presumably they’ll be ribbing the bassist about his 1980s denim jacket, collar-popped) and that’s enough reason to cement the line-up in itself. Theirs is an increasingly overcrowded genre, however, one in which Foals are probably as surprised as anyone to be the defining act, and, to rise above the herd, Haus may need to produce more of the heightened dynamics of their final two tunes, ‘Token’( I think) and ‘February’, which were quicker, bouncier and less regimented than those preceding. The band seemed to be more relaxed and fluid during these closing tracks and the crowd, which was at its most densely populated when these boys were on stage, responded in suitably animated fashion.

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Photos & Film by Chris Musicborn @musicborn @lostinthemanor

Live Review: Lazytalk Live at The Finsbury 26/10/13

It’s hard to see how LazyTalk could become any more efficient at what they do. The band’s populist blend of ska-punk, drum’n’bass, British hip-hop and Jamie T-style street smarts is perfectly forged to whip up any crowd, including that at the Finsbury this Saturday night. Throw in a couple of anthemic, terrace-ready tracks, such as ‘Luzaville’ and ‘Memories’, and you’d imagine it’s only a matter of time before some sharp svengali picks up the band and runs with them. Frontman Piers Robinson has assembled a fluid quintet of skilled rebel-rousers, of whom the trump card could be keyboardist Josh, who took time out to blow gear-shifting sax solos when the tune demanded. Meanwhile, Piers wrapped his tongue around contemporary grievances ranging from the corporate dilution of pop to the perils of the pre-dawn bus-ride, all keenly observed and addressed in quickfire prose. Reappropriated covers of hits by Ini Kamoze and Dawn Penn (I’ll leave you to guess which ones) gave clues to the band’s roots - and there was certainly a punky reggae party at their rhythmic core - but LazyTalk picked and mixed from myriad sounds of modern urban Britain. Most of it was delivered strictly to crowdplease, and although the doubling up of tempo following a languid intro was a trick somewhat overdone, it never failed to lively up the dancefloor. An unashamedly bang-on-it good-time act with fire in their bellies and brains behind the beats, the five-piece put a smile on the face of a sweaty Finsbury, just as they did last time they played here some 18 months previous. This is a band who, by now, should surely be instigating knees-ups at bigger venues nationwide. LazyTalk just need an action plan.

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