Sounds Australia Represent & We Hunt For Gorillaz On Day Two Of The Great Escape

It would be incredibly rude not to attend the Sounds Australia networking luncheon at The Chilli Pickle on Jubilee Street (plus, we hear this "regional Indian cuisine in the heart of Brighton" is next-level!) so that's where we start on Day Two (and the nosh - as well as the conversations - are as satisfyingly topnotch as expected). At the tail end of this luncheon, Sounds Australia's Executive Producer Millie Millgate gives a moving speech thanking the Australian music community for taking affirmative action to ensure the Federal Government back-flipped on their initial budget cut plans by committing to funding this vital organisation for the next four years. And after just one day of The Great Escape we can already see the vital work Sounds Australia do in helping Australian artists access international markets; our local talent being showcased is right up there and discussed by many international attendees. 

 

But live music beckons and we trek, once again, up the hill to The Green Door Store to sample more of what Canada has to offer since this plan worked so well for us yesterday. Sadly, despite our arriving ahead of the band's allotted 2.40pm time slot, we can't even get through the door to sample Like A Motorcycle's racket - it's chockers! From where we're standing in the adjoining bar, however, this punk-rock quartet certainly sound promising and we detect a Hole influence. Drummer/lead vocalist Michelle Skelding pounds the crap out of her kit. We quickly add Like A Motorcycle to our list of The Great Escape bands who demand our further investigation. Check out the following lyrics, for instance: "I put a ring on your dead finger." There's also, "All coked up and no place to go," (High Hopes), simultaneous male/female vocals add a rallying punch and we definitely should have queued up at early openers for this one. Although their sounds would be better appreciated in the wee hours. It's with heavy hearts that we negotiate the schedule to work out our plan B.

 

Our view of Like A Motorcyle

 

What's that? Aldous Harding is about to start down at One Church (which hosts the pride of New Zealand for part of the day)? Here comes the hotstepper! "There's a lot of you," Harding observes as she takes the stage wearing her trademark all-white ensemble. She then proudly informs us her new album Party comes out today before opening with this record's opener, Blend. We're so pleased to be in the front rows absorbing Harding today. She distorts that exquisite face, delivering her songs while often eyeballing punters with disdain. People immediately shuffle forward. Harding is riveting. Her deliberate enunciation highlights unexpected/evocative lyricism ("I am the horse beneath his daughter"?). There's a slight technical difficulty. Harding announces, "I'm not a big talker," before cussing, "Fuck!" But the millisecond her matchless latest single Imagining My Man fills the church, all is forgiven and forgotten. She slouches back in her stool and (wo)manspreads. Harding is so wonderfully weird and you need to see her live to totally get it. A Drowned In Sound writer - or "writter" as it reads on his lanyard - standing next to this scribe is so compelled we wonder whether Harding might need to file a restraining order. When a comparison to PJ Harvey is shared, he enlightens John Parish (regular Harvey collaborator) in fact produced Harding's current album. She sings a "new new song" (for the next album) and we imagine what type of venues Harding will be booked to play by this time next year. This church setting adds an extra dimension. We will catch Harding whenever we can down the track and thoroughly recommend you do the same. 

 

Fun fact: One Church only has One Toilet. 

 

On the recommendation of aforementioned English journalist, we prioritise Childhood at Horatio's, which is a bar halfway down Brighton Palace Pier. But, you know what? We're a bit disappointed. There's something The Style Council about their steez, but also something's missing. We reckon they're kind of like a shit version of The Bamboos or The Cactus Channel (who are both bloody excellent, obviously). (Disclaimer: we actually couldn't get a visual of Childhood at all from our position in this venue, but that shouldn't really matter if they sound great.) 

 

The Great Escape also incorporates The Alternative Escape, with even more bands showcasing at even more venues, and we decide to take a detour. Molly Malone's offer up an adorable local duo as the craic and we're so pleased to meet Baby Faced Blue Buskers who charm us with their authentic guitar tunings and effortless harmonies. Nathan McDonagh and John Bergin alternate lead vocal duty and reverently reproduce The Beatles' All My Loving. The pair's virtuosic guitar playing keeps us glued to chairs for their set's duration. 

Next up is another Kiwi, Delaney Davidson, in Marine Room down at the seafront Harbour Hotel. His handmade sign taped to mic stand and well-worn suitcase covered in stickers that decorate the stage space set the scene. He's a one-man band/loop artist in this current incarnation. Davidson is a demon on guitar and what he plays is brutal, conjuring some kind of Wild West gun fight or Pioneertown saloon scene. This itinerant artist deserves widespread attention and his toons totally transport us. But then suddenly a ping from The Great Escape app alerts us to the debut performance of what's described as a Gorillaz/Klaxons 'supergroup' called Youth Of The Apocalypse (listed as YOTA on The Great Escape app). We quickly consult Google maps. It's just up Queens Road at The Hope & Ruin! Despite sprinting there as fast as we can, there's already a queue. This scribe has flashbacks to that ill-fated Prince after-party in 2012 at what was then called The Hi-Fi Bar in Melbourne (now Max Watt's): what started as a smallish, narrow queue grew to cover the width of the footpath due to queue jumpers, hence ruining our chances to party with His Purple Majesty (RIP). 

 

It has to be noted that we half-expect Damon Albarn is putting on an intimate, secret warm-up gig ahead of Gorillaz' Demon Dayz festival at Dreamland Amusement Park in Margate next month, so our FOMOs are off the charts. The queue moves, inch by inch, but it's one in/one out and as if anyone's leaving!? A couple of times punters leave, but no one is admitted. Apparently these are friends/guests of the band who are returning, but the suspense completely does our heads in! Okay, we're now at the front of the queue and frothing. Every friend/guest of the band who leaves or re-enters is now like a direct stab to the heart. One lucky bastard we befriend who's directly in front of us in the queue gets in after one punter leaves the venue for good. We're now so close! Tension builds and we feel obliged to share our displeasure over the door policy that allows certain people to yo-yo back in, while still attempting to stay jovial for fear we'll piss security off and be banished from the line. Three people start walking down the stairs. Our hearts jump into our throats and we pray for the first time since compulsory mass at Catholic school. A bouncer clicks his clicker to signify three out and we're in! 

 

But then we're stopped just inside the door. What is this weird queue purgatory? One can only laugh while crying inside. At least ten more minutes pass before a few more gig-goers descend the stairs and we get our hopes up for the second time this evening. Yes, we're granted access this time! We fly up the stairs and into the bandroom. Whaddayamean Damon Albarn is nowhere is sight!?

 

So it turns out Youth Of Rebellion are Jamie Reynolds (Klaxons), guitarist Jeff Wooton and bassist Seye Adelekan (both listed as Gorillaz members although we're pretty certain they're not animated characters), drummer Jay Sharrock, DJ Twiggy Garcia and New York rapper Young Lazarus. The song they're playing when we burst in sounds great initially - with some simultaneous rapping (Young Lazarus is awesome) and singing ("If it makes you ha-ppy..." it goes, with a catchy chorus vocal melody). But then this song drags on, the arrangement reins in and we're left furrowing our brows. Noooooooo, that can't be the band's set closer; we can't even really tell whether they are good or not! 

 

We hang around to see if perhaps Gorillaz take the stage next (unlikely, but perhaps possible?), but also to validate our marathon queuing stint. Instead we cop a generic Welsh outfit called The Sandinistas with a lead singer who obviously emulates his fellow countryman Kelley Jones and has great hair. A text from a mate reminds us that The Charlatans take The Haunt stage soon so we make a break for it since said venue isn't too far away. Oh, no! As we round the corner, we spy yet another stagnant queue. Stuff that! Time to pull the pin on today and head home to sulk about all the valuable band-watching time we've wasted in lines as well as our misplaced optimism in hoping that Allbarn was in town.