Tag Archives: Gimme Fiction

Spoon @ the 100 Club, 27/02/17

Over more 20 years and eight studio albums, with another about to drop, Spoon have been a marvel of consistency. There’s not a weak record in their discography, not even the by-their-standards callow debut, Telephono (which leaned heavily on a Pixies influence long since outgrown). Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and Gimme Fiction, the group’s mid-career masterpieces, are as good as indie rock has gotten in the band’s lifetime. They’re one of my favourite bands, but I caught on late, and still rue the fact that I never got to see them on their way up, at small venues where I could all but reach out and touch the band.

Oh yeah, until Monday night, when I saw them play at the 100 Club in London.

For the unfamiliar, the 100 Club is a semi-legendary basement venue in an unlikely location on the north side of Oxford Street. Wrong, because it belongs by temperament on the other side of the road, in Soho. To get to it, you have to enter what looks like an office building, dodging the tourists and shoppers as you go. It’s a low room, wider than it is long, with bars at either end of the room, well away from the stage (what a joy not to have your enjoyment of the gig affected by the noise from the bar). The crowd in front of the stage can only be maybe 10 people deep. It’s not the perfect rock venue (the pillar right in front of the stage is not ideal), but it’s a pretty damn good one, and the smallest place Spoon have played in the UK in many a year.

The band were warming up for a tour that begins in the US in a week or two and returns to Europe in the early summer, when I’ll be seeing them from the balcony of the Kentish Town Forum. I like watching bands from the balcony – you can see more, and I love watching drummers from an elevated angle. But if you can’t be up high, the next best thing is to be up close, and at the 100 Club, I was really close.

Spoon were superb, and could as easily have been midway through a tour than warming up for it. It’s sometimes said that the hallmark of someone who’s really good at something is that they make it look really easy. I don’t know if it’s always true but I’d lean towards maybe not on Monday’s evidence.

I watched the band members carefully through the set, looking for the cues they were giving each other; the eye contact and little gestures, sometimes even shouted instructions. What was clear was how hard they all worked, all the way through; there are no passengers. All five men break into a sweat within a few songs, but even given the high work rate of all involved, some contributions stood out. Alex Fischel, who plays guitar, keyboards and percussion, conspicuously worked his arse off all night. Jim Eno – possibly the world’s greatest drummer – hits the drums a lot harder than I perceived from the balcony at Shepherd’s Bush. Finally, Britt Daniel – by most accounts a quiet and focused individual offstage – is a charismatic frontman and a well-practised engager of audiences. He held the audience in the palm of his hand, and his voice, hoarse and congested-sounding though it is, is capable of surprising purity and vulnerability on quieter songs.

The new songs – Hot Thoughts and Can I Sit Next to You plus two others I didn’t know, sounded great, just as good as anything they’ve done before, so I’m pretty excited about the prospect of a new album and another London show in the next few months. God bless Spoon. May they live another 20 years.

spoon

*On penultimate song My Mathematical Mind, the cymbal-crashing finale of the song was rawly, viscerally thrilling. Eno so rarely draws attention to himself in his playing that when he does it’s a proper treat.

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My Mathematical Mind/Everything Hits at Once – Spoon; or Jim Eno, an appreciation

Reading this blog back this morning, I note that I was on rather more combative form than normal when I wrote it last night. Long-time readers may know that I have a standing rule only to write about things that I like and can honestly praise here. I try and avoid cheap slams and cynical takedowns; doing that kind of thing isn’t difficult, it’s not fun and it doesn’t teach anyone anything. But for whatever reason, the following piece contains a couple of mentions of things I don’t like and in places it has the kind of tone you adopt when grandstanding over a pint with your friends, exaggerating your opinions for comic effect.That’s the place a lot of music writing starts from these days, but again, it’s something I usually try to avoid. Just to clarify, then, Messrs Brian Eno, Keith Moon and Dave Fridmann are not among my favourites in their respective fields, and let’s just leave it at that. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal next time. In the meantime, on with the show!

I imagine Eno with Eastwoodian taciturnity, saying all he means by merely squinting his eyes and spitting on the sheriff’s shoes. We townspeople don’t know who he is, but he sure cleaned up that song.

The Eno in the above quote is not Brian Eno. I care nothing for Brian Eno, I’m afraid.

The above quote is actually referring to Spoon’s Jim Eno. It’s from the long-departed Stylus‘s list of their 50 Greatest Rock Drummers. Stylus was something of a rival to Pitchfork back in the early to mid-noughties, albeit one that took a far more poptimistic view of the contemporary music scene. Yeah, it was a somewhat silly list, a bone thrown by the editor to his more rock-focused writers, allowing them the space to gush about Neal Peart, Zach Hill and Yoshimi P-We. But Andrew Iliff got Jim Eno right. He is a drummer of the most gloriously no-bullshit kind.

Case studies:

My Mathematical Mind (Gimme Fiction)
The first Spoon song I heard, and still probably my favourite. Built atop a simple, hypnotic, addictive piano groove, the song leaves huge wide-open spaces that a drummer could go totally hog wild in, if they so choose. With admirable discipline, Eno refuses the invitation. Instead he plays a sort of 6/8 version of a motorik beat: bass drum on every beat except the four. At the first chorus (‘Planning for the apocalypse is’), he adds a semi-quaver stutter to the kick drum just before each snare stroke and begins playing that mean-as-snakes backbeat as a flam. It’s brutally simple but it gives the song a physical impact that’s so vanishingly rare in recorded music these days that I get a little wistful listening to it.

The drums sound so good – powerful, spacious, uncompressed – I wondered at first whether my old favourite Steve Albini was responsible for the recording. Nope. The engineers were in fact Mike McCarthy and Jim Vollentine (…Trail of Dead, Patty Griffin) and Jim Eno himself; he’s a trained electrical engineer, a former microchip designer and part-time record producer, if it’s fair to call someone who produced seven records in 2013 and 10 in 2012 a part-timer. Trust a drummer to care about drum sounds. All the more puzzling and perturbing, then, that Spoon made their new record with famed butcherer of drum sounds and all-round sonic war criminal Dave Fridmann.

Everything Hits At Once (Girls Can Tell)
In which Spoon do Fleetwood Mac doing blue-eyed soul, and Eno does one of the most convincing Mick Fleetwood impressions in rock music. By which I mean he plays that two-and-four, heartbeat-kick-drum thing that Fleetwood made a virtual trademark on Dreams and returned to over and again in the Buckingham/Nicks era.

The song is still taut and crackling with tension in characteristic Spoon fashion, but it’s also one of the group’s sweetest moments, and Eno’s accompaniment is spot-on. He’s a drummer with a solid instinctual grasp of what to leave in and what to leave out, something that the great rock drummers of every era have all known (this is why Keith Moon is not a great rock drummer; if you disagree, you may be reading the wrong blog), and this track is a great example. Most drummers love hitting cymbals, but Eno’s use of the brass here is notably spare, essentially confining crashes to the entrances to and exits from choruses, and one halfway through each of them, and avoiding the ride cymbal entirely. Again, discipline.

I haven’t been listening to Spoon for very long, but Jim Eno is already a favourite, and the more I hear, the more impressed with him I am.

jim eno spoon

Jim Eno, jaunty smiling barely masking his capacity for ultraviolence