Fair play to Jens Lekman, he doesn’t lack for commitment to the bit. Last year’s album Songs For Other People’s Weddings is a fictionalised account of his accidental second life as a wedding singer, the result of a less than ironic reading of an ironically titled song. And tonight’s gig, for its first half at least, is a presentation of that album, cut down in tracklist to its bare narrative essentials but not lacking for plot line, costumes, and indeed a tuxed up tour manager acting as narrator. There are saxophones and flutes and I think at one point an OP-1 is used to manipulate live recordings of said flute? Lekman’s voice is impeccable live, rich and knowing, but earnest and imbued with the emotional weight of the story the album tells. The second half - hard to describe it as an encore with that length - is more a grab bag of Lekman’s other work. As he puts it, when he plays a wedding, it’s really two gigs: the ceremony and the reception. This, then, is the reception; the band cut loose, aiming for euphoria above all else. Personal highlights are the two tracks from Life Will See You Now, including the chorus of Wedding In Finistere that made me oddly emotional in a nostalgic haze. A surprise bonus solo encore of Black Cab after the house lights have already gone up is a treat. I’m able to get Lekman to sign my copy of Life Will See You Now and gush about Postcard #17 being one of my favourite songs full stop; he is generous and tells me the name of the original sample of that song to go and investigate. A stand up gent. Support is from Family Stereo, a band of shaggy young men that clearly reminds Louise of her own boys, whom I look forward to hearing more from in the future.
It’s weird to think that every time I’ve gone to see The Antlers, it’s been an entirely different configuration, from my first time in 2014 with the (then) full bamd, to the 10th anniversary acoustic Hospice tour, to the joint tour with Okkervil River a couple of years ago. It’s also, to be fair, weird to think that each gig has been in an increasingly small venue. I hope it remains financially viable for Peter Silberman, and as long as it is, I’m certainly not complaining. Tonight, it’s the current two-piece band set-up at Strange Brew, and it’s genuinely impressive how big a sound the two of them are able to conjure up. Palace goes from a mannered introduction to full on wall of noise, tailing out into the next song, purely through judicious use of a limited range of effect pedals. Silberman’s voice remains sent from the angels themselves, and there’s a coherence to the set, even as it spans a widly varied canon. When the three Hospice songs appear, it doesn’t feel like a jarring mini-set but a natural extension of songs like No Widows and Porchlight, even though on record they would absolutely jar. It is also, I note, the least emotionally affected I’ve felt by the Hospice songs live (although, granted, Putting The Dog To Sleep is still quite something) - maybe I’m just getting old. Oddly, the song that sticks most in my mind afterwards is Ahimsa, the Silberman solo track from 2017, played as the final song in the encore, a message of peace to go into the night. Support from Julie Odell, whom I enjoy a lot for the first song, sitting somewhere between Girls and Phoebe Bridgers, but the lack of textural variety throughout the set begins to wear slightly. I’d be intrigued to see whether that is different on record.
It continues to devastate me that the (contemporary) music I was getting into when music started being a thing for me is now 20 years old - and that number insists on increasing! Do not go gentle into that good night; instead, go to the Bristol Beacon on a Saturday night, sat on the side balcony, for Franz Ferdinand. They are an impressive 18 minutes late to the stage, but that is almost entirely made up for by their walk-on music being the Naked Gun theme. Straight into a rollicking The Dark Of The Matinee, which does somewhat accentuate Alex Kapranos’ slightly annoying habit of ever so slightly changing the phrasing of the lyrics you’ve been singing forever. Still, he’s thrilled to be back nearish his birthplace of Almondsbury. The setlist is a healthy mix of their discography, rather than focusing too much on either the new album or the nostalgia, and the band themselves are pretty tight (musically and, admittedly, somewhat in their otherwise sharp suits). 40’ is a lot of fun as a relatively deep cut (but I mourn Auf Asche all the same), and the new stuff fits in well. There’s some slight spark missing for me to really elevate the evening, but it’s still immensely heartening to hear a lot of those early songs that meant something to me on the radio at the time. Support from Home Counties, an apt offshoot of FF’s own noughties post-punk tendencies, but with a young lead singer with an almost Brentian level of uncoolness. You love to see it.
Perched on a shelf at the back of a packed out Exchange main room is surely one of the best positions from which to witness a gig. In this case, it’s Westside Cowboy, captivating at both full volume and hushed vocals around one microphone. They’re clearly on the up, with a number of prominent support slots, past and upcoming, and the first two EPs have some fine moments on that, reflected here live. A short 15 song set that nonetheless gets me out of there before 10pm, and honestly that’s a good thing for me. Drunk Surfer remains a highlight, but the new stuff is grand too. I look forward to never seeing them in such a small room again.
The first gig of the year, and it is the inimitable Suede, continuing to put bands half their age to shame with their on-stage energy. Brett Anderson remains a force of nature, building an enchanting world in the hallowed halls of the Beacon. Suede fans, unfortunately, remain so unlike their Christ, this time forcing me - six songs in - to move from my nice centre-and-three-back spot that I got there early for to right at the side. But let us focus on the positives. A rare outing for Bloodsports cut Snowblind, right off the back of Pantomime Horse, I think the first time I’ve heard it since it was the very first song I heard them play live back in 2013. The second live outing of the first song from Suede 11, continuing finely in the vein of Autofiction and Antidepressants. Boo for the Night Thoughts erasure, but increasingly they seem confident in how much their later catalogue is better than the former, especially live these days. I know they always have to play So Young, Metal Mickey, etc., but it’s time to embrace the deeper cuts of latter day Suede more live, even if it’s at the expense of Animal Nitrate. Bring on the next one. Support from Bloodworm, who also supported them last year at the Southbank. No major evolution since then, but they’re confident on a big stage and still wearing the influences on their sleeves. I remain tempted to go see them in a sweatier small room, where I can imagine they’ll blow the roof off.