11 posts tagged “kings of leon”

We get to the O2 and in the pouring rain I argue with the security to get under the building into the proper car parking area.   Ken meets us inside with our passes and we go and find Jo who is waiting outside the main entrance.   We find our seats in time to go and see Glasvegas who are opening on the tour.  I am impressed that there is such a big turnout this early to see them.   They look amazing as well, all of them have lost weight, and are looking stylish; Rab has jettisoned the trench coat and James is wearing a smart jacket.   He actually looks like Elvis Costello tonight that is until he strips down to a muscle man T-shirt and shows off ripped arms.  The set list is surprising as they throw Geraldine out first .   James is looking like a real star now though; I can start feeling very confident for the future.
   We grab a drink before coming back for Kings of Leon.  The screaming blows me away, I have never been to a concert where so many girls are losing it, clearly I need to get out more or move my roster around a bit.   It is a big deal to have the Kings back in London, this is the place that took them to their heart first and they know it.   For all of their international success we are still ahead of the game, selling 2 million records, a figure unimaginable for a rock band in 2009.   They have stepped up their game; the tracks sound amazing, lean raw.  There is a precise menace to “Crawl” a deliberate understated power here that is thrilling to watch.   Likewise “Pistol of Fire” it is slower and heavier than on record and way more exciting.  I could just sit back and watch each member of the band go through their paces, each of them is so compelling.   Nathan is particular is a drummer to rival any in the world.  I am so proud that Scarlet has been given sticks by the John Bonham of today.
"Fans" is so heartfelt, a song about the crowd that is giving up everything for the band.  When they perform “Sex on Fire” the screams go up another level, I didn’t think it could get this crazy.   “The Bucket” is magnificent; all of the tracks they pick off ”Aha Shake Heartbreak” arguably their most overlooked record go down a storm.   Mark leans across to me telling me how their songs have an incredible resonance in a room like this.   He is right, they are the last true stadium rock band on the way up, they have that quality that resounds with classic rock from the seventies and eighties.   I am so lucky to have it happen on my watch.  They are properly delivering tonight as well.   Watching Caleb and Matthew duke it out on duelling guitars is like something from the Allman brothers.
They encore with a matchless run, “Knocked Up” into “Closer” two of Jo’s favourite tunes, then into Revelry”, and finally “California Waiting” how good is that?  

I get the tube down to Brixton; at least I get to read some French on the way.   It is chaos in there, so this is what the Brits would be like of the NME ran it all.   It does have a real energy, there is anarchy to it all and the red carpet and paparazzi is for real instead of the polite staged affair at The Brits.   I go and say hi to Glasvegas, Kasabian and MGMT who are all down the front on their tables.   I get to hear that Blur, or rather Damon and Graham are performing which makes for a really very special occasion.   I desert my label and go and sit with MGMT near the front.   Mark Jones is in front of me waiting for Grace Jones to appear, she is presenting an award.   
   The host is Mark Watson, trying to get the place gong by shouting “Cunt” a lot” The venue actually works well for a show, everyone feels at home here, Indigo didn’t work in the same way.   What it does deliver is amazing sound “White Lies” have never sounded so good, delivering an impressively brutal rendition of “Death” Then it all kicks off proper with Elbow performing with a full orchestra and Guy Garvey driving the beat home on the drum.   It is a huge powerful sound that could bring granite to tears of emotion.  Grace Jones steps up with suitable crazed charisma to present Muse with best Live Act.  Florence and the Machine arrive to give The Arctic Monkeys best DVD.   It all gets exciting when the cast of Skins appear to present the best new band award.  It has been a good year but it is MGMT who win the award.   The table erupts and Ben and Andrew step up to the stage in pretty bemused fashion.  Total stars giving another surreal twist to the Narnia stage setting.
Dizzee Rascal picks up Dancefloor Filler for him and Calvin Harris’ “Dance with Me” his entrance is the blueprint for how it should be done, climbing over the audience, slapping all of their hands before diving back into the crowd and being carried aloft by them all.  Franz Ferdinand are up on stage in some strikingly colorful suits performing a new song from the album before launching into Blondie’s “Call Me” with La Roux who looks like a very exotic bird for the evening.  Then we get Kings of Leon picking up Best Album, a pretty major achievement, poor loves are in a dressing room in Germany and it is difficult to burst with excitement on that environment.   Big Pink are presented with the Philip Hall Radar award by Rab and Caroline from Glasvegas.   “Didn’t do us much fucking good tonight” chuckles Rab, which is fair comment, they really should be picking up an award.
The moment of real genius for the awards though is getting Damon and Graham back on stage for the first time in public since The Royal Festival Hall back in 2000.   They perform an acoustic version of “This is a Low” and it really does get me, I never thought I would be seeing this again and it is so wonderful to hear Damon singing that song again.   He walks from the stage with his arm round Graham and all is right with the world once more.   Dave and Alex get to crash the party, presenting the best solo artist award to Pete Doherty who still looks an absolute star in this vast fedora.   I go and sit with all of The Blur boys for a while; it is quite something seeing them all together again and all looking so happy and excited.   Jamie is with them bouncing with enthusiasm.  The family is reunited.
Elbow rightfully pick up Outstanding Contribution and The Mighty Boosh of course get the Best TV show.   Glasvegas and Florence deliver an absolutely incredible performance of “Suspicious Minds’ over this huge wall of Phil Spector guitars.  They look incredible up there wrapped around each other on the stage, a proper moment.  The Killers get Best International and then MGMT walk off with Track of the Year for “Time to Pretend” We are all going mental at our table by now, I think they are the only ones to win two awards this evening and it is a real affirmation of everything we have all achieved.   What a journey that has been.   I am sure there are more awards but by now everyone is on their feet and it is all getting properly chaotic.  
The night ends with The Cure delivering a Greatest Hits set.   I would never have expected this to be a fitting climax to what has been the best NME awards I can ever remember, but along with everyone else in the room I find myself squeezed down the front singing along to every word.   They look sensational, Robert Smith all happy and excited at the centre, Simon Gallup a total picture of Rock and Roll cool, straight out of the Ace Café, looking not a day older than when he first joined the band.   And Porl Thompson, a total freakshow but how amazing is he to watch.   This is a band conjured up out of the imagination playing songs that everyone knows and loves at breakneck speed.   It is amazing.   We are all up in the tables dancing to “Killing of an Arab”

I go for dinner with Mike and Adam from XFM.   We are all off to see Kings of Leon do a show for the station at the 100 Club.   The King's Astoria gig was the best performance I have seen this year and tonight promises to be magic.   With their album sitting at the top of the charts this is a big night of celebration as well.   I have had so many people come up to me and say how special they think "Because of The Times" is, everywhere I go people are talking about this record.   Maybe they are the last great rock and roll band out there.   Certainly until The White Stripes return this summer I don't think there is a band who can touch them live.
   We walk into a wall of roasting humidity just as the band stride onto the stage.   They look perfect, the tightest  jeans, the sharpest lines.   I can understand why cynics thought they were just too perfect when they first appeared.   Over three albums they have grown into themselves.   Your third record is when you get payback, when you have grown beyond your influences and are making music that is singularly your own.   There is nothing more thrilling than seeing a band at the top of their game and tonight is when it all comes together for the Kings.   It is a matchless set, every great song from their three albums is up there.   What is so exciting is that their most recent single "On Call" gets one of the biggest responses of the night, the entire room is singing along to every word.   This is a special night indeed.
  

I go and check out The Flatstock exhibition in the Convention Centre.   This is where all of the  artists who design the posters for the shows the American bands ply come to exhibit their wares.   I love this shit, not the old psychedelic nonsense from The Filmore, but the great alternative stuff designed by artists such as Koop and The Hernandez brothers during the nineties.   I always pick something up and this year is no exception.   I get this great pink Kasabian poster of Sharon Tate's face in blood, dripping down the blade of a kitchen knife.
   I head over to the Levis' fort for the second day of the Fader party.   I am fascinated to see how Gallows cope with playing to an even more laid back crowd of jaded industry hacks than yesterday, coming on at lunchtime playing in this car park.   Most bands would use the occasion as an excuse to deliver an off performance.   Complain that there was no vibe and just go through the motions.   Not so Gallows.   They create the excitement, grabbing the microphones and charging into the crowd, bringing the show right into our faces.   Regardless of the location they still triumph.   Frank even manages a lightness of touch, getting everyone to sing "Happy Birthday" to their photographer Jess who is celebrating today.   In contrast the next band up are another bunch of Arcade Fire botherers, but they do prick my interest in having two painters up on stage, both of them creating pictures either side of the performance.   Back in the day I did the same with a band called Mrs Mills Party up in Manchester and it is good to see the tradition lives on.
   I go and walk over to Stubbs to see Kings of Leon deliver the best show of the entire festival.   They look so damn good up there and the sound is spot on.   It clears the air, the perfect combination of two guitars, bass, drums and vocals.   This is what rock and roll was always meant to sound like but inevitably disappoints.   Caleb has one of the finest voices out there and is backed up by a remarkable family of musicians.   Add to this, a career which is now three albums deep giving them a rich catalogue of songs from which to draw.   New songs like "My Party" and "On Call" are greeted like standards and rightly so.
   Back out on the street I run into Gallows on their way to a tattoo parlour.   Bassist Stuart is having the band's name written across his lower lip.   I chat with Frank about his time as an artist.   Seeing the fondness with which he recounts his work I think he might just pack up this rock and roll lark and return to his first love.   He is planning on visiting an artist he worked next to at a convention in London.   He lives nearby.   Frank was astounded by his work rate.   He could manage two hours and then he would be exhausted, but this guy went all day straight.   Then he went back to his hotel room with this one punter who had his entire leg filled, stayed up all night to get the job done.   He knew the artist was returning to America the next day and wanted to grab the opportunity.   Poor bastard had to drag his leg out of the hotel the following morning it was so numb.
   It is my first time in a tattoo parlour.  It is as bright as an operating theatre and smells of disinfectant.   I flick through uninspiring books of images and look over at Stuart as he pulls back his lower lips with a pair of surgical gloves.   The girl doing the work has an impressively steady hand, especially with all of us gawping on.   He doesn't flinch and not a drop falls from his eye.   He is not meant to smoke or drink for a fortnight but like that is going to happen in Texas.   As a precaution he is off to the chemist for some mouthwash.
   I wander down Trinity and catch a bit of Mute Math on an outdoor stage.   They are pulling a big crowd keen to check out their commercial brand of Emo.   I am not sure about the "keytar" the singer brandishes or the over enthusiastic drummer, but they are the most pop outfit I have heard since I came here.   I end up back at Stubbs watching Pete and The Pirates.   There is definitely something about them, the singer burns with a passion and sincerity and their songs bring to mind a more sophisticated side to indie rock.   They do get a little too frantic but it is worth keeping an eye on.   I go inside to keep warm and catch a few numbers by Lissie, this singer songwriter from San Fransisco.  She has a charming voice and an endearing manner.   Does a great version of Leadbelly's "Rock Island Line"
  Back outside I watch Andrew Bird from Chicago.    He looks fascinating, dressed formally in a suit but with a brown hoodie inside his jacket.   The stage is littered with unfamiliar looking amplifiers and this huge black and white gramophone horn mounted on top of a large box.   He reminds me of Dylan circa The Rolling Thunder Review and is a little unsure of himself, sweating profusely, but that might just be a fever he complains of.   The music is inventive and subtle, he plucks at a violin before swinging his guitar back that he has slung across his back.   The songs are funny, subtle and heartwarming.
   Finally I get to see Perry Farrell's new band Satellite Party.   I was a big fan of Janes Addiction and their recent reunion shows that there is still a lot of fire left in his belly.   He is backed up on stage tonight by former Extreme guitarist Nuno Bettancourt.   They certainly make an impact.   Perry is dressed fabulously in a silver cravat beneath this tight white and black striped v neck over these impossibly tight sparkling silver trousers.   They unveil the new album in front of a legion of adoring fans who take it to their hearts.   The music borrows from all areas of Perry's career combining the edgy funk with impossibly catchy melodies.
   Its late and I grab a cab back to the hotel.   The driver is up tight and manic, he has been up four days straight and it is starting to show.   I pass up his offer to take me to the airport tomorrow morning.