Handsome Furs & Daniel Martin Moore ~ Escape Club, St. Julians, 18/12/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 22/12/2010}

Sub Pop not Subpar

The Sub Pop record label has become synonymous with innovative artists and music over the years, having signed critically and commercially acclaimed artists such as Nirvana, Soundgarden and Fleet Foxes. Last Saturday, serious Maltese music enthusiasts had an isolated opportunity to experience live two of the renowned label’s current acts at the Escape Club in St. Julians.

Hailing from Kentucky Texas, folk singer-songwriter Daniel Martin Moore claims he has wanted to visit little old Malta for the best part of 20 years and he looked genuinely honoured to be able to perform to the gathered crowd, even if there was less than fifty people in the room. “Thanks for coming out to see me’, he announced in his hushed Kentucky drawl after opening number Stray Age.

Armed solely with a small acoustic guitar, Moore shared tales from his hometown. He drew attention to how lucky Malta was for what he put as being “mineral poor” unlike Kentucky, where every year streams are buried and poisoned, and nearby towns threatened due to the rubble sent flying due to mining explosives in the Appalachian Mountains. On the following protest song Flyrock Blues he sang, “People praying don’t you land on me, don’t you bust my house, just let me be on my own ground.”

Moore also played other traditional and contemporary Kentucky penned tunes to the audience, including a beautifully wistful cover of Kentucky Waltz originally by father of bluegrass, Bill Monroe. As one of those old heads resting on young shoulders, Moore’s music falls under the tradition of American folk music, where songs are passed down from generation to generation, each new song drawing from the rich social narratives of heartland America. For a short but magical forty minutes, that tradition came alive at great geographical inconvenience in Malta.

Canadian husband and wife duo Handsome Furs were greeted on stage by a much healthier numbered crowd. They kicked off with a super-charged live version of Legal Tender, complete with an ear-pounding electronic drum beat and industrial guitar squeals that sounded like Godzilla smashing through the techno-obsessed sprawl of Tokyo city. Their sound could not have been further removed from the gentle organic elements of fellow Sub-Pop label mate Daniel Martin Moore.

The duo seemed enthusiastic to be playing their last gig of a lengthy tour in Malta from all places, both of them joking and bantering with their audience in-between songs. “Our plan tonight is to get drunk enough to burn our passports as a joke,” lead vocalist and guitarist Dan Boeckner semi-joked after expressing how his wife and himself were having a great time here.

While their studio albums are somewhat lacklustre affairs, Handsome Furs’ sound came into its own in the live scenario, easily working up the crowd into a sweaty bouncing frenzy. Perhaps the highlight of their set was penultimate song Serve the People; a thumping two-chord techno-infused number that forced all present into a euphoric trance. Cheers and chants all around the band returned for a final encore of new song No Feeling, keeping the atmosphere electric until the very end.

It might have been a low-key affair, but those who were there got to see something a bit different from the usual suspects who are invited to perform on Maltese shores. From ageless folk to post-industrial electronic rock the Sub Pop artists gave live testimony as to why their mother label remains one of the music industry’s most intriguing modern success stories.

David Knopfler ~ Manoel Theatre, Valletta, 11/12/2010

{Published in The Sunday Times of Malta, 19/12/2010}

Sultan of Storytelling

It would be fair to say that if not for the “former member of Dire Straits” tag behind his name on promotional posters, David Knopfler would have probably been playing to a pretty empty venue over his three-night residence at the Manoel Theatre. Having released nine solo studio albums since his departure from his brother Mark Knopfler’s band in 1980, most of which fall under the mawkish synth-soaked and reverb-drenched music genre to be found at a record store near you, the majority attending hardly knew what to expect.

Selected especially by the headliner himself, Saturday’s entrée was prepared by local based band the Creepers, who cooked up their own raw acoustic vintage American blues. The Creepers opened with a smoothly mellow Lonesome Road Blues and gradually turned up the mojo over their six number set. The four-piece sounded as slick as their clean-cut suits and gelled-solid hairstyles, showing they can talk-the-talk just as well as they walk-the-walk.

Shortly after 8.30pm, David Knopfler stumbled out on stage almost as if by accident. Waving to the tiered audience, the singer-songwriter wandered leisurely towards the mic to say hello, before retreating to pick up the wrong acoustic guitar on stage, consequently having to switch to the correct one a few seconds later. Nonplussed, Knopfler ensued to calmly tune-up, leaving the audience quietly whisper among themselves in bemusement for a few more minutes, before finally departing station with a gutsy performance of Steel Wheels, immediately showcasing that his similarities to his brother extend in voice as well as in looks.

Knopfler followed with a well-received rendition of Dire Strait’s classic Wild West End, a song he described cheekily as being written by “Mark something or other.” However hopes for more were altogether futile.

Throughout the concert, Harry Bogdanovs accompanied Knopfler on guitar and piano duties. The two musicians certainly made for a rather bizarre aesthetic combination. Knopfler appeared bedraggled in his unadorned creased shirt, shabby jeans and unkempt hair. Only his orange tinted sunglasses hinted at rock ’n’ roll glamour. On the other hand, Bogdanovs came across as the archetype bohemian Dandy; attired in smart blazer and scarlet cravat, his silvery hair blow-dried into contemplative wispy waves.

Musically, the two of them could not have been more intertwined. This was made particularly explicit on the beautiful King of Ashes, where the two musicians, both wielding guitars, melodically morphed into medieval-esque maudlin minstrels.

In between songs Knopfler did one of either two things. If holding his guitar, he felt the need to constantly retune it, a habit that needed to be fulfilled in borderline OCD fashion before continuing with the next song, leaving the audience in silence for minutes at a time. When at the piano though, he was freed of such habitual burden and went on to share casual memories of his life, explaining the inspiration behind certain songs. His work experience as a social worker spawned the elegant Southside Tenements, which dates back pre-Dire Straits.

He also shared how one morning he found his young daughter drawing on the floorboards of a $175,000 house he has just recently bought in upstate New York, she had simply written, “I love home.” This inspired the enduringly charming Here In Genesee, a sweet lullaby of a tune that sounded exquisite in its uncomplicated piano-guitar format.

With each song played, the audience response got louder and more appreciative. On Tears Fall, Knopfler invited local singer Fiona Cauchi on stage for a duet; a gesture that went down particularly well with all present. He finished off with his bluesy Easy Street, a song the singer described as being his “Faustian pact moment” and dealt with his 1st hand experience of quick fame and fortune in the music business.

Returning for an encore there was only one thing on the entire audience’s mind, “will he play Sultans of Swing?” Knopfler was aware of the expectation but quickly pulled the plug on such wishful thinking by announcing that he wouldn’t be caught dead playing that song, before delivering another one of his solo efforts. There was an almost tangible dip in the mood around the venue.

But in truth Knopfler has no real prerogative to play any Dire Straits material, as he simply did not write any of it. The reason he does keep on recording and performing clearly is not to relive the glory days as a rock star in one of music’s great bands, but to be able to share his own written material with new audiences no matter how modest in number.

After the show, Knopfler met waiting fans, signed autographs for them and of course shared more stories, telling one in line how his brother Mark used to whack him around the head to get him to practice guitar when they were young. No matter how trivial, Knopfler made you want to listen to his rambling tales, and by the end of the night you kind of felt you knew the man enough to convincingly get away with calling him an acquaintance; “You know I met David Knopfler once, really down to earth sort of guy. He spent an evening playing me his songs and telling me about his life. Great bloke. Just don’t ask him to play Sultans of Swing.”

gods and animals

God does not speak through men
he speaks through the pasty mud
caked on his naked body
the crevice of cheek and brow
life will be sustained mellifluously
by ghosts visiting from the past
to haunt.

he woke up to see two of them;
One that kills and One that loves
his paws ached and as he gently
moved each ligament he felt
the dry mud crack on his skin
he smeared the mud on his forehead
and sighed.

the One that kills, oblivious
the One that loves shed a tear
the truth came swiftly to him
like the merman messenger
rushing to the merman king
to warn of titans approaching
to drink.

wash away the days of mud
and the One that kills comes alive
feels the urge to take on a lover
and bed her in sheepish disguise
smear on pasty mud; more, more
so the One that loves felicitates
all night.

waves of fair wispy hair
come to him from a lifetime
before the mud smeared on body
before the Ones stood on constant watch
a hand, a finger, a nail, a tip
of something somewhen long ago
now mad.

God does not speak through animals
he speaks through the pasty mud
ripping bodies alive again
muscles expand and fall again
life will fade, death erase, the mind becomes
pregnant.

Teatru Unplugged ~ Manoel Theatre, Valletta 04/12/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 08/12/2010}

This year Teatru Unplugged has officially entered its teenage years, celebrating its 13th birthday. Having started off as a one-off experiment back in 1998, this event has become an annual fixture at the Manoel not to be missed, showcasing both upcoming and established artists in an intimate setting that strips down the music to its bare acoustic bones.

First act of the night, twelve-year-old Megan Balzan, walked out onto the beautifully twilight lit stage to encouraging cheers and applause. The young singer’s accumulated experience at a number of local concerts and recitals was instantly apparent through her calm and collected stage presence. Accompanied by pianist Rosetta de Battista, Miss Balzan started with a rendition of On My Own from the musical Les Misérables, which saw her boldly put as much emotion into the weighty subject matter as is possible for a young girl of her age.

Finishing off with a stunning version of Alicia Keys’ Empire State of Mind (Part II), Miss Balzan competently won over the audience with her endearing vocals and will surely be one to look out for in the local music scene in the coming years.

Beige’s performance started with vocalist Claire Galea making an entrance from the back of the room, walking and singing down the aisle, while the remainder of the band laid down the instrumental.

If the name Beige was meant to be some sort of ironic moniker, the band’s hotel-lounge jazz laden sound certainly did not help the audience get the joke. The band clearly possesses a group of talented musicians; however there was nothing particularly memorable about their music. Even the band seemed to feel the need to compensate for this through their performance by trying to force the crowd into enjoying it. From vocalist Claire Galea insisting all crowd members wave about their mobile phones to their original number Feels Good, to the injection of unnecessary life into their cover of Norah Jones’ playful Don’t Know Why, it was all slightly overkill. Sometimes less is more.

Third act of the night Chasing Pandora have established themselves as one of Malta’s most prolific musical outfits; having released two full-fledged studio albums as well as a further six EPs of material in a four year lifespan.

They started their set with People. Expressing her musings on the bedlam of life in swarming cities, Mel Portelli’s sussurating vocals bloomed and withered over the folky barn-thumping rhythm that maintained the core of the song. The band was as tight as clockwork and immediately captured the imagination of all present with their jamboree of tinkering organic sounds and impeccable harmonies.

By the time they reached the hushed ending of final song Time, Chasing Pandora had comfortably proven they made a perfect fit for the Manoel’s timeworn ambiance and many will be hoping that it has crossed the band’s collective mind to host their very own night at this hallowed local venue.

This year’s edition of Teatru Unplugged also saw the debut performances of percussionist, composer and producer extraordinaire Renzo Spiteri’s Terra Project. The ensemble’s first number was an experimental piece, which saw the musicians chime, clink, jingle, rattle, pick, pluck, strum and hum sounds inspired by the element of water; the theme of the band’s performance on the night. Spiteri’s mellifluous caissa drum juxtaposed against Liz Conrad’s deep Oriental influenced cello phrasings were achingly beautiful and arrestingly solemn. The Terra Project’s set came to a close with a cover of Coldplay’s Swallowed in the Sea and they took their bows to rapturous acclamation.

Few would have expected the following act Fraser to surpass the ethereal Terra Project’s performance, yet fewer still would have imagined they would be quite as shoddy as they were. The Anglo-Maltese musicians were out of tune and all over the place at times. Still this was perhaps more bearable compared to the awkward silences that ensued when the band was not playing.

In these moments, frontman Fraser Gregory stumbled over his words and sounded about as excited to be performing at the event, as the undead would be to wake up to yet, another, day. Apart from a cover of Pulp’s Common People, the vast majority in the audience were audibly not interested.

Last to take the stage were the Blast, a choir inspired by hit American TV show GLEE. The 27 brightly dressed teenyboppers forming the choir were all big smiles and fists in the air, which certainly made for quite a startling impact, especially after the dreary looking Fraser. While admittedly a gamble to feature in a show that is primarily known for stripped down intimate performances, the Blast dazzled the Manoel with bountiful pizzazz and charisma, delivering sprightly renditions of Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing and Van Halen’s Jump. It would have perhaps been interesting to hear the choir sing strictly a-capella, particularly on one of the ballads performed.

All in all Teatru Unplugged 13 was a good all-rounder and managed to include something for the whole family. Featuring some spectacularly good performances, Teatru Unplugged has entered teenhood in style and will surely keep delighting music enthusiasts for many years to come.

Iain Banks 'Transition'

{Published in The Sunday Times of Malta, 21/11/2010, p.48}

Crisis On Infinite Earths

It must be quite tiresome for a writer of Iain Banks’ stature to have to keep categorizing his novels so explicitly as either ‘science-fiction’ - identified by his middle initial added to his name, as Iain M Banks, on the cover - or ‘mainstream’, without the eminent M.

Set on infinite parallel versions of Earth, Transition sees Iain minus-the-M Banks seizing the middle ground. Similar to this year’s mega blockbuster film Inception, this novel seems to fall under a new-wave of sci-fi that is rising steadily, where the sci-fi simply serves as the premise, rather than the be-all and end-all of the plot.

The multiple realities are unknowingly watched over by The Concern, an all-powerful organisation that takes it into its own responsibility to issue orders to execute individuals it deems to be of particular threat to the well-being of any singular Earth. With the help of an incomprehensible drug called septus, recruited assassins called transitionaries possess the ability to “flit” into - and thereby occupy - the consciousness of unaware inhabitants of the multiple realities. The transitionaries can then go about their instructed duty of death, protecting the Earths in the name of The Concern.

Although the book follows some half a dozen characters, the primary narrative is that of deadly transitionary Temudjin Oh. Temudjin finds he must choose sides between the equally persuasive Madame d’Ortolan and Mrs Mulverhill, the former the power-hungry governor of The Concern, the latter a renegade leader of a resistance movement aiming to overthrow d’Ortolan and her unethical ways. Perhaps in an effort to make up his mind, Temudjin eventually beds both governesses in a string of unintentionally comical scenes; the highlight of these being an episode where Temudjin and Mrs M engage in deep theoretical discussion about the nature of infinite realities, whilst simultaneously gratifying each other through erotic foreplay. Sci-Fi geeks the world over must be squealing with delight at such ingenuity.

Elsewhere there is Patient 8262, a fugitive hiding from The Concern in a mental institution, The Philosopher, a state-sponsored torturer, and Adrian “Ade” Cubbish, a London city drug/money trader. Despite originating from somewhere “Up North” Ade chooses to speak like a propah cockney geezah, delivering rather unwitty one-liners to the reader, and finishing off every other sentence with “know what I mean?” Over the course of the book this becomes so mind-numbingly irritating you almost wish you could grab Ade from his expensive designer shirt, pull his head out of the literary pages and slap him something silly.

Admittedly, there is a flow to the novel that does keep you reading, and this is not in the usual cheap tactic cliff-hanger fashion either. There is no denying Banks’ prose prowess. Ultimately though, Transition is unputdownable because it keeps the reader believing that at some point the really really clever bit is going to happen, the bit where each individual narrative thread is going to be woven seamlessly together, and lo and behold, the magnificently intricate and detailed sprawling Persian carpet is revealed, complete and full of meaning.

Yet the clever bit never does arrive. Instead, the reader is left with something that vaguely resembles a knitted mitten put together by an adolescent boy during a crafts class he solely attended in order to ogle his provocative teacher, Mrs M.

At the end, Temudjin’s fate is hardly worth the convoluted and abstruse journey it takes the reader on. Even more exasperating is the fact that both Patient 8262’s and the Philosopher’s narratives serve no real convincing purpose to the plot at all, while Adrian is little more than a mere literary exercise for Banks to practice cockney voicing.

The whole affair would have been much more enjoyable if it was more tongue-in-cheek; more grindhouse, less art-house. Maybe it is, at some points it is rather impossible to tell. However given the never-ending pages of pseudo-philosophical dialogue and real-world religious-political allusions, you get the feeling that Banks’ tongue is stuck, for the most part, firmly out-of-cheek, know what I mean?

Airport Impressions ~ Tattingers, Rabat 22/10/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 27/10/2010, p.22}

Given To Fly

Tattingers nightclub was rammed to the rafters with fans who turned up for Airport Impressions’ launch of their debut album Minutes Of A Lifetime last Friday. Starting from humble origins as an acoustic duo formed by Errol Sammut and Johann Schembri in 2005, this local band eventually evolved into its current four–piece line-up that includes Steve Farrugia and Chris Curmi. They have won 5 local music awards whilst also gaining quite the fanbase thanks to their well crafted tunes and engaging gigs.

The band came out on stage to a Riverdance styled instrumental and started with Minutes Of A Lifetime opener David Played Guitar, following swiftly with their current single Freedom. The four musicians’ accumulated excitement seemed to get the better of them during these first few numbers, as they all appeared slightly too eager to force a performance out of themselves.

When they had exerted their excess adrenaline, they began to really hit their stride. Fear For Life was particularly stunning; Errol’s wavering falsetto whirled around the venue over Farrugia’s thumping drumming during the song’s middle section.

The setlist also included a couple of songs from the band’s 2009 EP Seeing With Eyes Closed. Wake Up featured violinist Kathleen Cardona who enhanced the song’s Irish qualities, and mid-way through an understated performance of The Air We Breathe, Malta’s pop-rock princess and fellow Jagged House label-mate Ira Losco walked out on stage to join Errol on vocal duties to the delight of the crowd. Ira’s smoothly cool vocals complemented Errol’s mercurial timbre surprisingly well, and this in turn compensated for what would have otherwise been a completely cheesy tactic.

Barely giving anyone a chance to – ahem - breathe, guitarist Johann Schembri teased the audience with the opening riff notes of the band’s soul-searching stomper Walk With Me, which since its radio release earlier this year has become one of their most instantly recognizable singles. The whole club erupted into a hubbub of epicene shrieks and roars that couldn’t even be drowned out when the full band dived into the song. Errol sang the middle-8 line - “When you got a soul then you feel alright” - like his life depended on it, resultantly forcing everyone to chant the lyric back to him word for word, hands striking the air. Red streamers were then shot out, and floated serenely above the pulsating crowd for the remainder of the song.

“He is in seventh heaven tonight,” Errol remarked whilst pointing to his left at Johann. Soaking up the passionate response, the guitarist certainly had a boyish beam glued to his face, and to be fair all four of them were practically levitating with delight.

They followed with back-to-back performances of two of the new album’s highlights, Elusive and Long Way Gone. Both beautifully crafted songs with soaring melodies that just keep growing and growing until they reach ethereal proportions.

These songs will doubtlessly become another two of the band’s near-future live favorites, so this night offered the crowd an opportunity to stay quiet and simply lose themselves in the band’s live performance while the songs are still only vaguely familiar.

Errol, in particular, was captivating to watch during these numbers. He sang with a heart-wrenching intensity and a faraway look in his eyes, which seemed to suggest that while he was physically present in the room, his mind was completely submerged in the narrative of the songs; engaged in channeling every last drop of emotion inside himself to his audience. Given this sort of evidence it is impossible not to realise that Sammut is slowly but surely becoming an unparalleled frontman on the local music scene.

Airport Impressions finished off the night with an encore of their eerily epic Borderline. In front of the stage, some of the crowd’s more slender members were lifted onto their friends’ shoulders. Session guitarist Wayne Camilleri delivered the euphoric guitar solo, setting up the song’s irresistible vocal hook-line of "Oh-oh-oh-oh-ohh,” which turned the crowd into a collective chorus, singing the line over and over and then some. The veins on Errol’s neck alarmingly protruded as he drained the last of his stored energy on this final number. The band took their bows to ear-pounding cheers and applause from a crowd drunk on two hours of pure musical emotion.

It was a truly impressive gig, even more so considering the added pressures of it being the band’s album launch where most in the audience were only really familiar with a handful of songs in the set. With Minutes Of A Lifetime now released to the public, the future looks decisively bright for Airport Impressions.

Voices: Listen to the Music ~ MCC, Valletta, 08/10/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 13/10/2010}

A shot of vocal adrenaline

Voices is back, and this year it is celebrating its 20th birthday. Twenty years of producing increasingly popular choir shows, all of which have been organized and performed entirely by volunteers, is already an achievement to be extremely proud of, but Voices also has the added satisfaction of knowing that since its conception it has helped raise well over a million Euros for local and international charitable causes.

Once everyone had leisurely found their allocated seat in the MCC’s Republic Hall, the choir filed out on stage to a flurry of cheers. A number of choir members were greeted with called-out encouragements from friends and family who were present in the audience.

The two comperes Joseph Bonello and Ronnie Briffa, introduced the theme of this year’s Voices shows, Listen to the Music, with the help of a short video, urging the audience to really listen out for those around us in our daily lives who are in need. The two hosts made for a really entertaining double act; their comical sparring and bantering was laugh-out-loud funny throughout.

With everyone set, the Voices band laid down the breezy music to opening number Now We Are Free, signature piece from the soundtrack of the film Gladiator. The choir gently merged with the instrumental music, gradually building in volume, sounding heavenly.

This grand opening was followed with the jazzy pop of Sting’s We’ll Be Together, which was sung as a duet between Justin Galea and Sandrina Degabriele. The two singers sang with gusto and set the standard for the rest of the soloists of the night.

Because the Voices choir is made up of mostly amateur singers, it is always interesting to see the different category of solo performers that take the stage. Singers such as Vanessa Gatt and Louisa Wirth, who sung Beautiful and Hallelujah respectively, blew the audience away with the great technical vocal ability they possess.

Other performers’ chief merits lay in different qualities such as charisma and showmanship. In this vein was Anne Marie Mayo who sang an infectiously delightful version of the Doobie Brother’s Listen to the Music. With a smile that lit up the room, Ms Mayo wiggled and jiggled her way through one of the show’s most enjoyable numbers.

A few songs into the second half, choir director Martina Caruana explained the cogs and wheels of the choir to the audience. Each of the choir’s vocal sections began to sing their designated parts after a sequential introduction, collectively uniting for a charming a cappella medley of traditional Maltese songs. Sounding confident and perfectly harmonious, the choir proved that while it may be amateur, it still has abundant skill and talent.

After this Gianluca Bezzina took the stage, delivering a stellar performance of Viva La Vida. The young singer really worked the crowd and fully embodied the spirit of the Coldplay anthem.

If each audience member was allowed to cast a vote to select the performance of the night, there surely could have only been one sure fire winner. One did not need to be an expert in classical music and all of its complexities to realise that Edward Camilleri gave a world-class performance of Puccini’s Nessun Dorma. There were spontaneous bursts of applause seconds after Mr Camilleri’s elegant tenor vocals began to soar across the auditorium. Half the audience was already on its feet during the climactic “Vincerò!” segment, with the other half swiftly following suit as the aria drew to a close. Mr Camilleri – who was also celebrating his birthday on the night – appeared to be genuinely moved by the affectionate response he was given.

After a double dose of disco classics I Will Survive and Voulez-Vous, and an electrifying final encore of Shakira’s Waka Waka (This Time For Africa), which got most of the audience out of their seats happily clapping and singing along, the Voices choir and musicians left the stage to go home and get some well-deserved rest.

Having to perform ten demanding shows on top of the countless rehearsal sessions must be quite a daunting undertaking. So how does Voices manage to keep veteran and virgin volunteers so readily willing to give up their own precious free time and take part?

Choir member Ruth Grima, who is taking part in her fifth consecutive edition of Voices this year, describes the experience so; “Since Voices concerts are held every two years, going back is like one big family reunion. Although it is hard work, we always have the time of our lives performing and it feels so rewarding to know we are helping good causes. We only hope that the attending audiences experience the same sense of fun and joy we feel.”

With a great selection of songs and enough energy to compete with a Zumba dance group, one can’t help but feel the joy and good spirit at a Voices show … even if they tried.

Wirdien - Il-Masġar, Mtarfa 02/10/2010

After having been postponed due to bad weather, the Wirdien event was finally held last Saturday at the increasingly popular Il-Masġar venue, with folk outfits Plato’s Dream Machine, Stalko and Brikkuni all featured on the bill.

Plato’s Dream Machine were the first to take the stage. The band finally seem to be fulfilling their collective musical potential, and sounded daring and convincing on the night. Robert Farrugia Flores’ gravelly vocals juxtaposed with the shouts and harmonies of other band members were spot on, and on songs such as Recession Street and Sugar in Your Poison they began to resemble some sort of bizarre didactic street rabble one might see in a village festa; the theme of their ravings being social unrest however and not saintly patronage.

The Maltese penned songs in PDM’s set, Fabbrika fuq l-Għolja and two new songs not featured on their debut EP, were where the band really came into their own. Flores emoted and enunciated better when singing in his native tongue, consequently allowing the lyrics to come across with endearing passionate credibility and authenticity.

While Brikkuni and PDM evoke an air of defiance and an ‘us-against-the-world’ disposition, second band of the night Stalko come across as the more charming, romantic brethren, and the least cockroach-like, of this nu-folk, movement. They opened with Flotsam and followed with Il-Mara ta’ fuq il-Bejt.

Apart from the piano, acoustic guitar, violin and bass that form the core of Stalko’s instrumentation, the four piece also made use of a number of other instruments during their set, including a xylophone, harmonica, accordion, ukulele and even a melodica, each adding delicate brushstrokes of colour to the band’s minimalist canvas.

Stalko could have been tighter as a unit in places and their harmonies need some fine-tuning, but with the help of their ambitiously crafted songs and the friendly banter of lead vocalist and pianist Tim Ellis, they received a very warm response and are beginning to garner quite the loyal following.

It would be fair to say that the majority of the people who attended Wirdien specifically went to see the live ensemble jamboree that is Brikkuni. The crowd greeted the band on stage as heroes of sorts. They wasted no time warming into their set, jumping straight into favourite Kollox Suġġettiv, which in its own way sums up why Brikkuni are so popular.

First of all there is its music, a sound that despite its various noticeable strings of international DNA is still somehow unmistakably Maltese. Kollox Suġġettiv’s opening guitar strumming and drawn out vocal melody hint at traditional Maltese għana, and its chorus has the sort of melody and drive that could be easily translated into a festive march for a local banda, which gets the crowd at Wirdien bouncing along accordingly.

Secondly there are Kollox Suġġettiv’s lyrics, a commentary tale on stars-in-their-eyes Malta. Mario Vella’s vocals drenched in sarcasm during lines such as “għax kulħadd inpestat bit-talenti,” one second theatrically comical, next vehemently truthful. Listening to the crowd at Wirdien sing along word for word, you realize how well this song unapologetically voices what previously most people only dared to think.

Unfortunately Brikkuni’s set was cut severely short by the police, due to complaints from nearby residents over the loud noise. Vella, who made it distinctly clear what he thought of the situation and the attendant policeman (several times in fact), urged the crowd to sing as loud as they possibly could and give the band a memorable last number on Gadazz Ġiljan.

After this the plug was pulled on the front-of-house sound, but still the band persisted on stage. With just their onstage amplifiers and monitors they managed to deliver a seventh and final song Kontra Kollox u Kulħadd - an apt title given the circumstances – relying on the boisterous crowd to keep the noise levels booming. In truth, the turn of events will do no harm to Brikkuni’s anti-establishment notoriety, even if they probably would have preferred to play their full planned set for their paying devotees.

Maybe it is because of a growing disillusionment with how all that is hi-tech and corporate has drastically taken over music during the last decade, or maybe it is just another one of those cyclical trends, but folk music has had a renaissance of sorts in the international music scene. The UK has critically acclaimed Mumford & Sons and Bellowhead. The US has Fleet Foxes. Arguably Malta has Brikkuni, who have not only revived folk music on the island but also made Maltese penned songs relevant and current. PDM and Stalko are as yet in their infancy as bands, but a few years down the line might prove that they too will leave their own respective marks on local music.

Myth of a Man (Song to ...)

I listen to you

Your words in the rain come through

Your words mean volumes to me

Words like streams pour endlessly

Lost in the air that blows in the breeze

Lost in the waves that travel the seas

Lost in the minds of men like me

And in the heart of femininity

She listens to you

Your words to her are the truth

You bring out the mother in her

Nurtures your soul and shows you to the world

She leads you to the stage

Holds your hand for you to be brave

After the crowd cheers and roars

Then you’re a child no more

He listened to you

Followed your every move

Sang along with your protest songs

Thought you could do no wrong

But he was there

When you sold your soul on air

With others he cursed and booed

You now are the fool

I listen to you

As the day breaks through

Your words kept me up all night

Tainted my heart, nourished my mind  

That’s why I wrote this song

To feel I can belong

Like the child I am

To the myth of a man

Elton John (with Ray Cooper) - Granaries, Floriana 26/09/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 29/09/2010 p.22}

Sir Elton still going strong

Towards the end of Sir Elton John’s first concert in Malta, back in July of 2003, the music legend kind of fleetingly mentioned that maybe he would come do another concert here, maybe with his band. It took him a rather tardy seven years, but last Sunday, the man once known as Reginald Dwight, finally made good on his half-promise and returned for another stately performance. And while there was not exactly a band of musicians to back him up, he did bring along percussionist extraordinaire Ray Cooper.

Following two successive chilly nights that were prone to spouts of rain, the weather on Sunday night could not have been more perfect. The air was warm and the sky was all but clear, ensuring the assembled crowd in the open-air venue at the Granaries in Floriana could fully enjoy their forthcoming entertainment without having to heed any mischievous natural elements.

Slightly after 9pm, Elton John walked on stage to grand instrumental music and was greeted with an affectionate standing ovation from the entire audience. Sat behind a sleek black grand piano, he started the night with his 1992 single The One, which sounded elegantly revitalised stripped bare from its candy-coated ‘90s production. “It is beautiful to be back here,” the star announced after this opening number.

While a far cry from the wildly extravagant costumes he used to wear in his yesteryears – such as his now respectively iconic Donald Duck and Mozart outfits – John’s attire on the night still exuded that natural flamboyance his fans so love. The performer donned a long tailed blazer adorned in various multi-coloured motifs, over an electric-blue shirt. The back of the blazer brandished the title of his anthemic song I’m Still Standing, while the right sleeve sported the song’s response lyrics “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.”

The set continued with three songs from John’s eponymous second album released in 1970. Then fast-forwarding thirty-one years, he played two songs from his 2001 album Songs from the West Coast, including a dazzling version of The Emperor’s New Clothes. It was astonishing how full and complete the songs sounded with just the singer’s now gruff baritone, on top of his intricate piano playing. The big screen close-ups of John’s chunky fingers suddenly bursting into nimble flight up and down the black and white keys of his piano, delivering his trademark honky-tonk, blues and boogie-woogie infused solos, was mesmerizing to watch.

The first real showstopper was undoubtedly the goosebumpingly-gorgeous extended live version of Rocket Man. The bright silvery moon shining through the wispy clouds beautifully complemented John’s emotional performance, by the end of which the seated audience was back on its feet for another standing ovation.

Ray Cooper joined Sir John on stage mid-show during instrumental number Funeral For A Friend, banging on kettledrums and smashing cymbals together. Surrounded by a bastion of percussive instruments, the seasoned session percussionist was simply pure joy to behold, moving from instrument to instrument with a charismatic Cheshire-cat grin fixed on his face and animated movements that defied his sixty-eight years of age. Even the “simple” task of playing the tambourine was utterly captivating with Cooper at the helm.

The selection of songs for the night was made up of a well-balanced mix of lesser-know album tracks and big singles. A couple of songs from Sir Elton’s upcoming album The Union, a collaborative project with American singer-songwriter Leon Russell, were also showcased. It was a rather daring move for an entertainer who could have easily played it safe and churned out the hits only. While there were a few uninterested looking faces at times, the vast majority were really into every moment of the show, especially since Sir Elton performed each and every song in his two-hour set with an unparalleled passion.

Of course it was the hit singles that ultimately got the loudest cheers. There was an audible collective gasp of delight when John began the opening piano riff to Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me and yet another standing ovation when it finished. And moments into the glitzy glam rock of Bennie And The Jets, members of the seated audience began to get up out of their seats and flock down the aisles for a dance and a boogie right in front of the stage.

Sir Elton and Mr Cooper finished off the final songs in triumphant style to tumultuous cheers and applause. Pausing in between songs Sir Elton got up to thank the continually increasing crowd below him, pointing at individual audience members and mouthing a sincere thank you to each. After an encore of his Disney songs Circle of Life and Can You Feel the Love Tonight, John took his final bows and was gone.

Four decades into the music business and the evidence is clear that Sir Elton John is still going strong. One can only hope it will not be "a long long time" before the Rocket Man touches down in Malta again, and with any luck he’d fulfill his other previous fleeting promise and bring his band along too.

Red Electrick - Tattingers, Rabat 24/09/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 27/10/2010, p.22}

The Red Electrick experience

Over the past two years Red Electrick have risen from relative obscurity to being one of the hottest bands on the island. With four consecutive number 1 singles on local radio charts and countless gigs at home and overseas, Red Electrick's brand of rock music appears to be resonating with everyone in their wake. This special event at Tattingers nightclub in Rabat marks the release of the band's debut album Vine Lady, and as frontman Matthew James Borg explains is "the most important thing we have done in our lives."

Before the show there is an unmistakable feeling of subdued suspense among the band. Each of the five musicians seems to be torn between the necessity of staying focused on their upcoming performance and the desire to greet their friends and fans. Consequently they spend the almost entire duration of opening-act Dolls for Idols' set moving between the backstage area, where they try to quiet their minds and get in the zone, and the merchandise-booth, rowdy with the hustle and bustle of the entering crowd; hence rendering their backstage meditations quite futile.

However as their time draws nearer, all five musicians finally gather backstage. Huddled in a circle they psyche themselves up, the adrenaline running through their system apparent in their movements. The expectant crowd start to syllabically chant out the band's name; "RED-E-LEC-TRICK!" With the final glow of Matt's cigarette and a fiery introduction from friend of the band Paul Borg Bonaci, Red Electrick individually take the stage, tearing into album title-track Vine Lady.

Any pre-gig anxieties melt away seconds into the band's set. Bassist Ivan Borg, wearing his mandatory flat cap, locks into groove with drummer Raphael Tonna. The two guitarists, beanie-clad Jonas Delicata and shaggy-haired Peter Borg, let the high-octane riffs rip. There's an air of confidence about the band that is usually attributed to acts twice their age, and they occupy the stage with flair and purpose.

After their second song of the night and latest single to hit local airwaves Jail Bail, there's a glint of a satisfied smile on the face of Matthew James Borg. "This is a good feeling, a really good feeling," he exclaims. The crowd also seem to be experiencing this very same "good feeling," especially those right in front of the stage who have been jumping and singing non-stop with an astonishing devotion.

During the final weeks leading up to the album release, Red Electrick announced that one of their new tracks would feature a guest singer, leading to a flurry of speculation on the band's Facebook page. Tonight it’s finally revealed that it is Ray Mercieca, lead vocalist of veteran local ska band The Riffs, who guests on new number It's a Shame. To the delight of many he also joins the band for a (no pun intended) electrifying live rendition of aforementioned track that reaches a cacophonous climax. Other new tracks Dimensions and Pick Up the Phone continue to add further musical inflections to the band's already reasonably eclectic rock sound.

Quite bizarrely for a band called Red Electrick, their onstage electricity cuts out during the percussive intro to the band's encore Who the Heck is REK!?, forcing Raphael to give an impromptu acoustic drum solo. Remarkably the band still somehow manages to keep the crowd rocking until the problem is solved. Matt shouts out the infectious hook "Do the robot!" and the band launches back into the song and finish off all guns firing. As soon as they come off stage they hurriedly open a celebratory bottle of beer each, no time to rest they shoot off to the merchandise booth to sign copies of their album for waiting fans.

The night has been a success for Red Electrick and you only have to look at their faces to understand how grateful they are to be able to finally share the fruits of two long years of labour with friends. They are one of those privileged bands that have a certain something (dare we call it X-factor?). Whenever the five of them are together - be it rocking on stage or casually hanging out - they emanate an irresistible chemistry that makes you want to be part of the Red Electrick experience. Thankfully for those partaking, the experience has only really just begun.

Hallway of Kites

Candles light the hallway
They light the thoughts inside your mind
My heart catches fire
Just like a fuel burns gently by night ...

... in the hallway of kites

And although I know
You want to disappear
I'm trying my best to hear you loud and clear
And how hard I try
But there's no one around
No one to tie us back down

Your soul thrown out the window
You've lost all sense of right and wrong
And while I lie in the crossfire
You're flying blind into the night ...

... from the hallway of kites

And although I know
You want to dissapear
I'm trying my best to hear you loud and clear
And how hard I try
But there's no one around
No one to tie us back down ... to the ground

Rockestra - MFCC, Ta' Qali, 11/09/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 15/09/2010 p.29}

The Philharmonic’s philanthropic performance

As the official Rockestra website makes clear, Rockestra is a “rock concert by the Malta Philharmonic Orchestra.” While this may seem a contradiction in terms, the marriage of rock music and orchestra is one that has become increasingly popular in modern musical performances. The orchestral arrangements give rock staples a new lease of life with elaborate twists and surprises, whilst preserving the raw live energy the originals offer.

After the great success of last year’s debut Rockestra concert, this year’s edition was rife with expectations of bigger and better, so much so that an additional thousand standing tickets were made available during the last week leading up to the concert due to popular demand. This must have been overwhelmingly good news not only to all the performers of the night, but also more importantly to the Malta Community Chest Fund who organised this special event in aid of people in need.

The concert commenced with the orchestra partially hidden from audience view by means of dim lighting and hanging draped sheets. Musical director Mro Sigmund Mifsud, covered in a druid-like cloak, walked unhurriedly out on stage to the introductory bars of O Fortuna. However, the sombre ambiance was quick to alter; with a flash of lights the hanging sheets were pulled down, and the orchestra launched into an electrifying mash-up arrangement of The Doors’ Roadhouse Blues with the Joseph Calleja Children’s Choir still singing the O Fortuna melody. It was a truly impressive start.

Mark Spiteri was the first guest vocalist of the night, and he proved to be a more than adept showman, easily getting the audience singing along to Beatles rockers Get Back and Come Together. The Viva Dance Aerial group from the UK made the first of three appearances during a version of Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters. The dance group’s aerial acrobatics combined with the angelic voices of the children’s choir added further poignancy to this heavy metal ballad.

The volume of the crowd singing went up a notch during two Maltese standards, Inti Djamant and Xemx. It was heart-warming to hear local music given the orchestral treatment, and the people audibly appreciated this gesture. This sprinkling of local music certainly helped make the night even more special and unique since these are songs that are endemic to Maltese communities. Furthermore it continues to prove that local music is loved dearly on our island and forms part of our cultural heritage.

The musicianship was world class throughout, and the vocals on display were all well above average. Performances worth particular mention are Neville Refalo’s exceptional vocals during Queen’s The Show Must Go On, soprano Claire Caruana’s stunning delivery during a lush orchestral pop arrangement of Nessun Dorma, and Airport Impressions’ frontman Errol Sammut’s rock-vocal master class on Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir.

Undeniably, one of the night’s most entertaining segments was the KISS tribute, which saw notorious KISS über-fan Gianni Zammit, Fire’s Kenneth Calleja, and Fakawi’s Paul Borg Bonaci - all clad in the band’s iconic costumes and makeup - sing two KISS classics. The energy and charisma of these three performers could have easily put a smile on the face of any old miserable Scrooge.

The concert’s setlist was unequivocally comprised of the best of karaoke classics; all crowd favourites, guaranteed to please. The usual suspects were all present; the Beatles were paid homage four times, Queen thrice, and U2 a further three times - their Pride (In the Name of Love) was played twice, albeit once as an instrumental which was later reprised with vocals. It would have been interesting, if anything, to see one or two curveballs thrown in. Not necessarily obscure gems for trainspotters, but choices that are leftfield enough as not to appear to be completely obvious inclusions.

It was impressive how well organized Rockestra was, even more so than most other recent music concerts. Apart from the top-notch talent, the stage set and visuals were very professional, the efficiency of the bar staff meant there was no excessive queuing for refreshments and even the on-site parking attendants handled the traffic flow smoothly. All the performers and crew deserve praise for an exceptionally enjoyable night, all in the name of a good cause. Given the further success of this year’s Rockestra, it would be safe to assume that we’ll see Mro Mifsud and his musicians same time next year.

Job's Song

Grey skies spread out
And I've lost sight
Of the reason I'm out here
In the dead of the night

So I guess I'll roam 'round
Meditating my birth
Naked I came
And so I shall return

Take your eyes off me
Give me a moment to fall
Just don't say you love me
'Cause I won't comprehend at all

I now know the fine line
Between lost and found
What's the point in finding you
If you're buried deep underground

Let the ashes rain down
Sweep me out in the flood
I am not trailing old roads
Just so they vanish in the mud

Take your eyes off me
Give me a moment to fall
Just don't say you love me
'Cause I won't comprehend at all

Close your eyes and just let me be...

The winds have relented
But you're still severe
There's no use pretending
That I'm not in fear

So set free your fire
Caress me in flames
'Cause I'm sick and tired
Of playing these games

Close your eyes and just let me be...

Plato's Dream Machine ~ Tal-Qamħa

New local folk-punk band Plato’s Dream Machine, waste no time jumping straight into business on their debut EP Tal-Qamħa. Five seconds into opening track Recession Street, and the listener is greeted with a contemptful “Rise and shine my son you’ve got to work.” Robert Farrugia Flores’ vocals force you to listen to his nihilist narrative of life wasted on mundane work. Bassist Frederick Abdilla, drummer Ryan Abela and flautist Justin Galea shout along, sounding like the street rabble from village festas.

The five songs on this EP ache with themes of angst, disenchantment, and political and social restlessness. Sugar in Your Poison is undeniably the most entertaining track of the bunch. Brian Tonna’s accordion playing here is a joy, and the chorus line is so hooky you can’t help but shout along with it.

But it is Fabbrika fuq l-Għolja which is perhaps the real standout track. Roberta Attard’s violin phrasings swoop and soar, washing beautiful textures over the sordid canvas. Flores also emotes better singing in his native tongue, consequently allowing the sorrow in his lyrics to come across with passionate credibility and authenticity.

PDM have decided not to polish their sound, instead opting to capture their organic-ness on record. The band have also embraced an organic DIY approach to the packaging of this EP, echoing the late spirit of late-'70s punk pioneers in the UK. The simple black cardboard sleeve-case brandishes a sprayed on golden grain of wheat, possibly an allusion to the everyman’s daily prayer; “Ħobżna ta'  kuljum  agħtina llum.”

While far from a perfect release, Tal-Qamħa does continue to reflect a renaissance of sorts in Maltese music. Along with fellow everyman-folksters Brikkuni, PDM are trying to tap into the emotions of social unrest in modern Malta, and that in itself makes this EP more relevant than most other recent local releases.

Standout tracks: Fabbrika Fuq l-Għolja//Sugar In Your Poison

Moulettes & Plato's Dream Machine - Madliena Cottage 20/08/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 25/08/2010 p.24 }

For the love of folk

Malta has had its fair share of music events catering for the general masses this summer, large scale concerts headlined by big names. However on this warm Friday night at the remote Madliena Cottage, a different kind of musical spectacle is to take place. A crowd of about three hundred people have congregated to enjoy a night of, what can only be loosely termed as, neo-folk. The venue’s garden terrace is decorated with overhead patchwork triangle-flags, and above the small rustic stage a few glowing candle lanterns dangle idly. This may be a low key affair, but it has spirit and geniality.

First to take the stage are new local sextet Plato’s Dream Machine, who have also released their debut EP at this event. The band come across as the illegitimate offspring of New York based gypsy-punk band Gogol Bordello, who have been busily educating themselves in classicalist and nihilist philosophical thought. For most of their set the band’s performance does feel a little restrained, as if they aren’t yet entirely comfortable playing in front of an audience. It takes them a while to fully let go and enjoy themselves, which is a shame because once they do these guys can really get the crowd going, as they demonstrate during final song Recession Street. A few more gigs under their belt, and PDM will definitely come into their own as a must-see live attraction in the local gigging circuit.

British band The Moulettes start off their set with a traditional folk instrumental duet between cellist Hannah Miller and violinist Georgina Leach. Bassoonist Ruth Skipper and guitarist/drummer Oliver Austin join after this bewitching opening number, and as a four-piece they play Recipe for Alchemy. The sultry swooning vocal harmonies of Miller and Skipper are reminiscent of ‘30s female jazz singers, and add a hauntingly beautiful twist to the band’s folk sound. The musicians’ attire is as distinctive as their sound, a sartorial mesh between ‘swashbuckling pirate’ and ‘bohemian Victorian.’

Cannibal Song’s vivacious bassoon riff cheekily undermines its wickedly devilish subject matter, described matter-of-factly by Skipper as being about “unrequited love and eating.” The outro builds with a gradual accelerando, the intensity and chemistry of these four musicians leaves those watching in awe. They follow with Talisman and another instrumental they dub an “Irish jig”, which sees Leach give an incendiary fiddle solo.

Even if this event does feel more like a friendly gathering of folk music aficionados rather than a serious must-get-my-money’s-worth gig, issues with the sound still remain irritating. It becomes increasingly difficult to be wholly immersed in The Moulettes’ vivid musical narratives when jolts of screeching feedback suddenly come out of nowhere.

Also the constant chatting and laughing of some audience members during the band’s more quiet pieces spoils the magic somewhat, and is needless to say disrespectful to the brilliant musicianship on display. The crowd’s babble, on top of the poor on-stage monitoring, makes it difficult for the band members to hear each other at these points and consequently their intricate harmonies suffer. Nevertheless, the band continue with smiles on their faces.

Skipper explains at one point, “Doom is a word heavily associated with this band.” One can’t help but feel this is meant to be more tongue-in-cheek than literal, especially considering the joviality in their performance. In this fashion is Bloodshed in the Woodshed, which sounds just as if a resurrected Edgar Allen Poe were spitting out his most random macabre imaginings whilst bouncing around on a pogo stick with the legions of hell close on his heels. The music switches with the vehemence of lyrics such as “gutted, berotted, noose fairly knotted,” to the deranged sorrow of the chorus line “Oh darling what have you done, you forced my hand to bloodshed down in the woodshed”.

By the final three songs The Moulettes are in the full swing of things with impromptu ululations, bosom shaking and even a Kazoo solo during Going a’ Gathering. They finish to a unanimous chorus of cheers and applause. Despite the minor technical setbacks, the four Brits seem to have genuinely enjoyed themselves and with hope this will not be the last time they play on Maltese soil.

Akon - Ta' Qali, Malta 14/08/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 18/08/2010}

(Akon)verted Crowd

Love him or hate him Akon’s impact on the modern music industry is unquestionable. Since his rise to fame a mere 6 years ago the R&B star has been nominated for six Grammy Awards, he helped kick-start Lady Gaga’s success story and has had the privilege of collaborating with late King of Pop Michael Jackson. Akon’s return to our shores is testament to his pulling power, and judging from the jam-packed crowd gathered at Ta’ Qali, his Maltese fanbase is evidently quite substantial.

The restless vibe of the waiting crowd instantly transforms into frenzy as soon as it is announced that Akon is about to hit the stage. Prior to the live proceedings, a short introductory video is aired, which features Akon playing the role of a diamond dealer who is on the verge of closing a lucrative deal with a shady looking mob boss. Having verified the mobster has the requisite cash to do business, Akon leisurely shows off his sparkling merchandise. However Akon soon realises that the whole scenario is a set up - the mob boss and his posse want to steal the diamonds and keep their money - and so a necessary gang shootout ensues, culminating with Akon’s escape through a glass window.

One can only wonder whether this is meant to be an extended metaphor for Akon’s take on the music industry; given the right amount of money he will deliver the musical goods, if not he’ll tear the place down. Understandably such analysis is not at the forefront of this audience’s mind, and with cameras at the ready they go berserk when Akon’s silhouette appears on stage.

For the first 15 minutes or so of Akon’s performance, the crowd is assaulted with a barrage of fast paced snippets of tracks, including We Takin’ Over and Soul Survivor. After this energised opening, the irresistibly hooky Sorry Blame It on Me serves as a well needed breather. However the party atmosphere is quick to resume with an extended version of Caribbean flavoured Don’t Matter, during which Akon showcases his conga skills. In between the multitude of hit singles the self proclaimed ‘konvict’ repeatedly name-checks Malta, making it clear that those present have his undivided attention. Akon’s ability to keep energy levels at a constant high is truly impressive, especially considering that there are no elaborate stage sets or dance troupes here.

At one point Malta is made to face off against rival clubbing island resort Ibiza in a who-is-the-loudest competition. With the help of Akon’s spirited encouragements, Malta is crowned the ‘liveliest place in the world’ by the star himself. The Maltese crowd exuberantly show their appreciation for this accolade. Clearly Akon knows how to get an audience on his side.

The atmosphere in Ta’ Qali reaches near hysteria when Akon decides to jump off stage and be carried amongst the front row audiences by security guards. The barriers holding the general standing section begin to buckle dangerously with the force of the throbbing crowd collectively pushing forward to touch the celebrity. Akon is almost recklessly relentless in his willingness to indulge his fans. He spends the final 15 minutes of his show stage diving and crowd surfing to hits such as Party Animal and Sexy Chick. It is quite a surreal sight to see Akon being carried messiah-like towards the stage by the crowd, nearby star-struck fans readily and happily wiping his soaked body with their removed garments.

In the aftermath, while the still buzzing crowd trails out trampling empty beer cans and plastic cups underfoot, it does dawn on the more astute audience member that Akon has slightly cheated his performance. For the final third of his 80 minute show Akon sang rather sparsely and was instead mostly a glorified MC bantering over playback tracks, throwing himself into the crowd. It appears that Akon is the diamond dealer of his opening video; his jewels are fame and celebrity. He has dazzled his audience with his celebrity, more so than with his music at this show.

That having been said, it does take considerable showmanship to work a crowd to such an entranced frenzy, and for the time he was on stage even disbelievers would have to admit that the R&B star had all present Akonverted.

First Of Our Kind

Wake up
The world is turning
And it's worthwhile knowing
You're the first of your kind

Spoken word is our power
And we'll hold order
Just you and I

And we shall rise
Above the earth and the oceans
Because you and I are the first of our kind

This land shall be our fortune
We'll tear it down to find sparkling stones
And in the ruins
We'll fashion cities and concrete deities
And multiply

Why do you cry?
Don't you think this our purpose?
Because you and I are the first of our kind
So if you don't mind
I'm gonna burn down our garden
Because I think it's time there be more of our kind

You were singing while I toiled with fire and steel
You were dancing while I dug holes underground
You were dreaming while I was scheming
and you were happy with all that you had ...

Wake up
The world is burning
The sky is falling
There's nowhere to hide

Désolé

I got sick of the acting, the effort of imitating an already fake scenario. Then one night I tried to be spontaneous. We got in back home after a rather tiresome leaving do of one her work colleagues. I had been somewhat desolate all evening, sat at my corner of the table in the restaurant, sipping my one glass of wine slowly, listening idly to the babble surrounding me. Every so often honing in on particular pockets of gossip and blather that were garnering interest. I just wasn’t in the mood to drink myself stupid. There was one instance where she turned round to look at me. Her eyes locked with mine, and I felt the coolness of their ice-blue hue flood my mind and awaken me. She smiled an understanding smile that seemed to say, “I know, me neither”, and rubbed her hand gently on mine. I sensed some long forgotten something take flight from the depths of my soul, all the way up my spine trying to reach the surface. Maybe there was more to us than I first thought. I kissed her hand softly and she turned back to the high spirited cackle of her friends. After that though our understanding dissolved slowly slowly with every freshly topped up glass of wine she drank.

By the time we got home she had quietened down again, seemingly in a state of subdued euphoria. I sensed the slight heaviness of her body as she treaded up the stairs, making our way to the bedroom. In silence she undressed, her back towards me while I sat on the bed taking off my shoes. Looking up I took in the warm amber lamplight highlighting the curvature of her back, the shadows accentuating her hips and thighs. I could see the strap markings pressed in her skin as she unfastened her bra. I had seen her body countless times, and yet I had never taken it in. There was a sudden urge within me, a desire to re-capture that tiny instance in the restaurant. For a few fleeting seconds we had understood each other. I had caught a glimpse of how great we could be together. Desperately I pulled her round towards me and stood up. This time we were going to do this however it was meant to be done. I ran my hands through her hair. Smiling lazily, she sat down on the bed. I knelt down in front of her, and pulled her gently towards me to kiss her. I wanted to experience her lips for the first time. I kissed her deeply, with all the passion I could muster, my mind trying to let go and lose itself in a wave of ecstasy, but all I could taste was the synthetic matt paste of her lipstick. She slipped her tongue in my mouth, the dry bitter taste of red wine was still strong in her mouth. Determined to make this work I carried on regardless, stroking her hair, kissing her cheek tasting the powdery make up foundation, I ran my hands down her back, kissing her neck, tasting the sickly alcoholic perfume lingering there. More and more desperate, I clung on to the hope of the real, cupping her breasts, tenderly kissing her shoulders and arms, my nose flooded with the pungent odour of her deodorant. My fingers dug deep in her hips and my eyes welled up with tears and all the forced fervour rapidly receded from the tips of my fingers and the back of my neck back down deep somewhere in my core. Kneeling with my head drooped between her legs, my arms hung loosely, I breathed in deeply, trying to stop my eyes from flooding.

An Episode on a Hotel Rooftop

{Author's note: I am not responsible for the actions and remarks of the characters in this piece. Nor am I responsible for events leading up to this episode on this particular hotel rooftop. Like you my dear reader, whoever you may be, I am clueless as to what is happening here. If you would happen to possess any information which may be crucial in helping me understand these goings-on, kindly communicate it in the comments section underneath. Kind regards.}

"Sit down," she said abruptly, her voice tinged in suppressed frustration. She took in a deep breath, and the icy wind rushed through her parted lips as if seeking shelter from the night, draining the little colour left in her cheeks. She appeared ice sculpture-esque, if not for the fact that her fingers spasmed every time she tried resisting her instinctive shivers. In an airy whisper she pleaded, "Please?" He saw the resolution in her eyes and reluctantly sat down, legs dangling over the hotel building. Looking down he saw the vertical lane of protruding hotel room balconies, warm yellow light pouring out of some. Each of these temporary abodes enclosed a medley of lives. A few individuals with heads settled on pillows knowingly or unknowingly explored the realm of the sub-conscious, while others feasted on decadent cocktails and vintage wines, the best the hotel had to offer. Elsewhere, razor blades were at the ready near small snowy heaps, and discarded designer fashion label lingerie lay at the foot of king-sized beds where pay-per-hour prostitutes were attending to wealthy senior businessmen, helping them relieve the stress of their inherited corporate empires.

Sitting on top of this microcosmic monument of human life, he took it all in. The suit he was wearing felt restricting. He impulsively pulled his shirt out of his trousers, and unbuttoned it at the top. Not much better, but better nonetheless.

She gazed at him momentarily, understanding what he was going through, yet simultaneously conscious that her time was almost up; soon dawn would come. She needed to get this done with now, there was no 'then' anymore. She took off her high heels, lifted the hem of her gown in order to bend her knees, and cautiously sat next to him. Her toes curled with the exhilaration of dangling her feet over such an abysmal drop. She had to catch her breath. She could feel that irrational voice inside enticing her to fulfil curiosity and experience the fall. Not tonight though, maybe there will be some other time, in another lifetime perhaps.

"Look, about tonight," she began deliberately, "it is important that you know I was only trying to help."

"Some help you've been," he retorted.

She knew he was angry with her but was still taken aback by the harshness in his voice. "That's unfair. You were the one who begged and begged me to show you what I knew. I warned you, once I showed you there was no turning back. You can't unknow knowledge like that."

"But you cheated me. You made me believe it was something real, something ..," he struggled to find the words for what he now understood and knew.

"Well it is real," she cut in quickly, seeing him stuck. Time was ticking. "Just maybe not what you would've normally defined as real," she let that seep in. "Listen, you also need to know this. I had explained to you that I was instructed to share my knowledge with one person, only one person, a person the Others and myself agreed upon, someone we believed would be ready." She really wished she could get away with not mentioning the next part, but that would just make his situation worse. "This is extremely hard for me to explain to you, but it is vital that you know."

"Know what?"

"Well that ... that you were not the intended one. The Others haven't got a clue that I ignored all prior deliberation and agreements."

"What?" he was aghast. The burden he would now have to endure the duration of his life could have been prevented if not for a sudden whim? "Then why the hell did you choose me? Christ, I know I begged, but if you are who you say you are, then surely you would have known I was not ready for this. I can't deal with this."

"It was something you said to me that made me change my mind." This, she was hoping, would convince him that her decision hadn't been mindless. "Remember that first night we met at The Apache? We went out for a cigarette and talked about that girl from your office, the one who hung herself because of the way this city is changing, the way people are being treated. You had no sympathy for her, you were angry with what she had done.” She realised he was beginning to comprehend where she was going with this; she continued determinedly, “I asked you how do you know you wouldn’t bail on life if it gave you a wrong hand. You answered ...”

“... I just do,” he finished her sentence off for her. He had said that. He had been so convinced at the time; a mere 5 months ago. How life had changed since then.

“I’m sorry,” she picked up, and followed with a hollow laugh, “I am gonna be in so much trouble when the Others find out. You have no idea.” She would probably be excommunicated, in exile for the rest of her ... well not life, existence? “Somehow I think this is going to work out, you are going to figure this out.” She put her hand on top of his and squeezed it gently, he felt calm. For a while they sat looking out over the city, letting the city lights and sounds take over their minds. Even at this hour cabs were still pulling up to the hotel entrance, the concierge busy welcoming guests and calling porters to take care of any luggage. The odd wave of music would come floating by; the murky bass of nearby underground electronica clubs, improvised jazz phrasings from nocturnal city buskers, and the smutty chanting of intoxicated youths, all merged with car horns and police sirens.

A lustful red gleam could now be seen dead ahead, its molten fringe softly drinking up the dark velvet in the sky. “Lana shall we go back down now?” his eyes were still locked on the metamorphosing skyline. She didn’t answer. “Lana?” But there was no one there. She was gone and he knew intuitively that he would never see her again. He was now in this alone. He took a final glance down the side of the hotel – tempting - got up and walked across the rooftop to the fire exit he had forced open earlier, pulling the door shut behind him.

Sweets: putting psychosis to pseudo paper

dreaming, dreaming, extended hands reaching out from underneath carpets, from sideboards and from behind picture paintings on the wall ... whetted nails try to claw flesh, extricate crimson blood, to trickle down flesh onto nail, shining jewels, strawberry fountains flood floors, deliciously inviting.

let go and float down streams of maroon fluid, through the door, down the stairs, swept past waving neighbours calling hazily after you, out onto the street where liquids are not welcome, down the gutter they go, smaller and tinier you get, through the rusty bars to neverwhere.

splash, water sprays upwards, heaved upwards through the hole of the drop, rich colours await; sparkling blues, emerald greens, opal oranges, stripy watermelons and fuzzy coconuts. exotic aromas and worldly essences fill your nostrils, and on and on you float dazzled by your sumptuous surroundings, tummy grumble, it all looks so scrumptious you could eat, bite the marshmallowy ceiling, the candy floss lanes, reach for clouds, touch and pull, sticky sweet vines swiftly creep over your hands, over your arms, across your chest, let go, let go, let go, softly consumed by synthetic ingredients and deeper and deeper you go.

dark now, blinded now, trapped in cotton walled prison, no room to move, no room to breathe, push frantically, quick quick, air will not enter those lungs, colour fills your eyes, jolts of red, bursting violets, gasp gasp.

Winter Moods - The Granaries, Floriana, Malta 30/07/2010

{Published in The Times of Malta, 04/08/2010 p. 25}

An Emotionally Charged Show

The granaries in Floriana provide a fitting setting for this special night in Maltese music. The crowd shuffles in whilst new local band Cruz hit the stage. Cruz earned their place as opening act after winning a competition set by Winter Moods themselves in collaboration with radio station 89.7 Bay. The band’s blend of post-grunge and funk-rock warms the crowd up nicely. Finishing off with their winning song Red Tape, Cruz exit the stage, while the crowd waits expectantly for the men of the hour.

Shortly after 9p.m., the big screen on stage is filled with a Maltese cross against a red backdrop. Winter Moods enter the stage one by one to the sound of crackling radio frequencies and synth soundscapes provided by keyboardist Etienne Robinich. Each band member gradually feeds into the instrumental intro of Sun Won’t Shine, opening track from their latest album release Argento; guitarist Melvin Caruana injects sonorous guitar feedback into the mix, whilst bassist Joseph Rizzo and new drummer Karl Fenech form the steady rhythmic backbone.

Frontman Ivan Grech is last to come on stage, waving and showing his gratitude to the impressive 9,000 strong turnout. He is wearing a black shirt that bears the new Winter Moods logo on his right arm, and the Maltese cross on his left. Ivan is immediately on fine form, hitting big notes with his cool raspy timbre which has been a defining element of the Winter Moods sound over these last 25 years. When Ivan sings chorus line “The sun won’t shine without you”, the crowd is bathed in celestial white floodlights amongst rapturous applause and cheering. The band dive straight into second song Walk On By, after which Grech declares “Here we are, one big happy family,” while pointing to the entire audience. Clearly the band feels this is as much the crowd’s night as it is their own, a fact they are keen to emphasise throughout this emotionally charged show.

Evidently Winter Moods and the whole crew behind them have gone through great lengths to pull out all the stops and ensure the audience is treated to a show on par with international standards. Nine songs in and the Animae Gospel choir are welcomed on stage for two numbers. Crowd favourite Everyday Song is especially stunning with the supplemental gospel harmonies. Soon after, the band leave the stage and shortly reappear walking down an aisle from the back of the crowd up onto a small stage in the middle of the venue - a feat which must have required impeccable logistical organisation. Here they deliver a few acoustic numbers, including a bluesy rendition of Water and a poignant piano led cover of Maltese classic Xemx, originally recorded in the ‘70s by late Gozitan Dominic Grech and his band The Tramps, which gets most of the crowd singing heartily along. Another brief interlude and the band are back on the mainstage.

Surprisingly, fan favourites such as Jamaica and Lonely Vegas were left out to make way for the new and as yet, less familiar material from the Argento album. The band’s pièce de résistance Marigold is greeted with a flurry of sparklers in the front rows. Smiles all around, the ecstatic crowd sing their hearts out to this song which has already earned its place as one of the most popular Maltese songs ever, despite it only being a few years old. By the end of their two and a half hour set, Winter Moods have boldly proven that local music can be taken to new heights with just enough hard work and dedication ... and of course with the help of a Maltese public that holds you dearly in its heart.

The Temper Trap ~ Conditions

Conditions, debut album from the Aussie four-piece, displays an array of eclectic ideas and influences. The utterly irresistible Sweet Disposition finds Mandagi’s ghostly falsetto floating over celestial shimmering guitars and a steady pulsating rhythm, the band finally let loose when the anthemic chorus kicks in. Almost as impressive is the hooky indie-pop of Fader, undeniably the most fun these somber lads have on this debut. A couple more tracks in this vein certainly would not have gone amiss. The digital ghost in the machine makes its presence felt on tracks such as Fools and Science of Fear, adding texture and atmosphere that comfortably blends with the band’s more organic sensibilities. While not as trendsetting as other recent releases, Conditions is still an enjoyable and welcome treat.

Standout tracks: Sweet Disposition//Fader//Love Lost//Fools

Neil Gaiman 'Stardust'

Fairy tales mold and shape the way children look at the world. They allow children to be enchanted by beanstalks that climb high up into the sky, dazzled by pumpkins transforming into carriages, and unnerved by talking wolves who can dress up as their grandma, if they so wish. Understandably (if perhaps lamentable) at some point in most peoples’ lives fairy tales become nostalgia; stories confined to children’s book shelves and Disney films, and only to be enjoyed by the oh so serious adults when retold to their very own little ogres and princesses. However if you are one of those individuals who secretly wishes you could still be reading good old fashioned fairy tales, whilst in the comfort of your nearest café, without the cultured intellectuals giving you supercilious glances every few seconds, then Neil Gaiman’s Stardust is the book for you.

Stardust is a charming, grown up fairytale that begins in the town of Wall. Young Tristran Thorn has his heart set on marrying town sweetheart Victoria Forester. In an effort to play down her suitor’s extravagant declarations of love and dissuade his affections, Victoria half-jokingly asks Tristran to retrieve a fallen star. The prize, her hand in marriage. Good hearted and virtuous Tristran readily accepts this challenge, and so sets off beyond Wall into the realm of Faerie; where stars take on human form, haggard witches seek eternal youth, and forest trees would as easily deceive any passing travellers as they would assist them.

All the necessary ingredients of a fairytale are included, but it is Gaiman’s unconventional recipe that allows the traditional to seem novel once again. The author does not hide the realities of human experience, such as sex, murder, and bodily functions, just because this is fantasy. Gaiman instead utilises these earthly idiosyncrasies to add humour and authenticity to the characters and events. Yet this is not a grown up fairytale in the style of Angela Carter’s short story collection The Bloody Chamber or Guillermo del Toro’s seminal film Pan’s Labyrinth, laden with astute social allegories. As Gaiman himself patiently explained to one journalist, “[Stardust]’s like an ice cream. It's to make you feel happy when you finish it."

Neil Gaiman 'Neverwhere'

Many will be familiar with Neil Gaiman’s work even if they are unfamiliar with the man himself. Recent Hollywood successes such as the stop-motion masterpiece Coraline and the heart-warming fairytale Stardust were based on original novels by Gaiman. Others may be more familiar with the authors work in the graphic novel genre. His The Sandman series is widely acknowledged as being one of the pinnacles of a format many are quick to snub; “a comic book for intellectuals” as Norman Mailer put it. With countless literary accolades to his name - including 19 Eisner Awards, 4 Hugo Awards and 3 Bram Stoker Awards - one begins to wonder why such a prolific and ingenious writer could still be somewhat considered as one of modern popular literature’s best kept secrets.

Neverwhere was originally conceived as a BBC television series back in 1996. Unsatisfied with the director’s interpretation of his artistic vision, Gaiman set about adapting his screenplay into a fully-fledged novel. Currently in its third, and what the author himself hopes will be, “definitive” version, Neverwhere is the tale of one Richard Mayhew. After a long and bizarre weekend helping a mysterious wounded girl who calls herself Door, recover and return home to what she calls London Below, Richard sets off to work on Monday morning as per usual. However it slowly dawns on him that no one seems to be noticing him at all. Successful attempts at drawing people’s attention prove to be of little consequence, since his colleagues can’t quite place him and mere moments after he has left everyone is quick to forget about him completely. Furthermore, he finds that he apparently no longer works in the office he has been employed with for the last 3 years, and that his apartment is up for sale without his consent. He hasn’t so much become invisible, but a person of no significance – one of those individuals who has fallen between the cracks. Realising that his new non-existence is somehow related to his chance encounter with Door, Richard is thus forced to try contact Door once again in her native London Below, in search of answers. What ensues is a highly entertaining and comic quest through London Below, where Richard aids Door in solving the mystery of who murdered her family, whilst simultaneously trying to gain his life back.

Whilst the narrative of a protagonist being unwillingly swept into a previously hidden fantastical alternate reality, and trying to find their way back home, is by no means a novel one – think The Wizard of Oz or The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – Gaiman’s vivid imagination is what keeps the reader turning page after page, delighting and revelling in the world he has created. Firstly there is the enthralling London Below, home to all who have fallen between the cracks. London’s sewers and underground stations form the physical setting of this twisted Victorian-esque city that co-exists beneath the modern day capital. Then there is the motley Floating Market which is packed with the most random and peculiar folk, where one can acquire anything from oriental foods, to nightmares, to unwanted rubbish fished out of the sewers. Gaiman’s knack of creating colourful Dickensian characters certainly does not hinder the magnetism of this novel. Perhaps the best examples of this are the insatiably wicked and demented Messrs Croup and Vandemar; two hired assassins whose meticulousness for murder and torture is akin to the obsession of perfection Michelangelo must have possessed, whilst working on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. There is also the flamboyant Marquis de Carabas, a nonchalant merchant who prefers to be paid in favours. These are the category of characters readers would happily read a few more hundred pages about, in order to explore their histories and personalities in greater depth.

Plot arguably plays second fiddle to character and setting in Neverwhere, but the characters and setting are so marvellous that they more than make up for any predictability. Gaiman’s writing style is infused with rich descriptive vocabulary that allows the magic to easily traverse the page. And his brilliant use of London underground station names as inspiration for some of his characters (the Seven Sisters, Angel Islington, Hammersmith et al.) must have most fantasy novelists wondering how on earth they had never envisaged that concept before. Neverwhere may sometimes feel as if it is little more than a literary playground for Gaiman’s imagination to run amok in, yet lucky are we to be allowed to delve into his fiefdom.