Gecko, the Leano, Perkie: 12 Bar, London
Posted by jamie on Mar 13, 2012
Gecko, the Leano, Perkie
12 Bar, London
12th March 2012
Jamie
During soundcheck, the Leano summed this show up nicely. 12 Bar, essentially a tangle of dimly lit tunnels and chimney stacks that, by happy coincidence, also sells alcohol and puts on some of the best small venue shows you’ll see anywhere in the country, was packed by now, and, amidst the hubbub, we’re excited at seeing another slice of something like this show, from Gecko’s winter tour, which rocked all of our worlds just before Christmas.
“It’s nice to see so many people smiling”, Archie, from the Leano, says. “We like to play to smiley people, and the good thing about Gecko is, they tend to bring smiley people”.
Whether or not they’d seen the show before Christmas, this is a suitably warm room by now: warmed inside by that wonderful atmosphere you get when, just by liking the same music, all the strangers in your room are somehow your friends, 12 Bar is, indeed, packed, sardine-style, with smiley people. Good feelings abound.
Perkie begins the evening in her own typically unique fashion. It’s a brief, but wonderfully, impossibly beautiful set: whimsical, deeply moving acoustic protest folk played on a keyboard, a little bit, and for the most part based just around her voice, rich, and smooth like honey, that gently washes over the room in warm waves.
For the most part, we’re stock still, mesmerised by what’s going on, woken from our collective trance only when Perkie punctuates her stunning set by forgetting the odd line, or chatting amiably, apparently blissfully unaware that just seconds ago she has had us all in thrall: trapped in the nectar of her voice like that mosquito that started Jurassic Park, only much warmer.
Those odd moments, clearly genuine as they can only be completely unplanned, such is their spontaneous, self-deprecating charm, seem somehow to pile yet more personality in to her performance. It must be completely unique, and even Perkie seems to have no idea how she does it, but she achieves this time and time again, and it is sheer bliss to be a part of this. Only during Dance, Dance to we actually move our feet, dancing in pairs and feeling like we’re somehow in love with the whole room.
The Leano arrive after all of this. They’re more than gregarious at the best of times, the conversational equivalent of a puppy gleefully clambering for the knees of everybody it meets. In this room, they’re absolutely in their element: Hello is sort of passed off as a sort of warm-up, and Smile, fittingly is out next, Archie using Ben’s smile as an example and Ben finding the whole thing so hilarious that he can’t stop grinning, watermelon-style, and thus showing off exactly the grin Archie’s been on about.
From here on, the rest of the Leano’s performance includes everybody in this room: it’s a sort of acoustic, rap-meets-spoken-word freestyle that never actually stops. Utterly unique, irresistibly engaging, it’s impossible not to get involved, singing the choruses for them as they make up their own surreal songs as they go along, freestyling through hilarious, and, in turn, explicit and utterly random stories using bits of things their audience have made up during the song. It shouldn’t even be possible, really, and yet it feels utterly natural that they should be doing this, and making it look easy. We’re roaring with laughter. I forget what exactly we’re laughing about, but I don’t think that’s the point. Amongst all this, Love Deserves Our Faith, as ever, is a particular treat, thrown in to replace Bigger Than That because of the atmosphere in here and utterly fitting.
And so to Gecko. In this context, the perfect headline act, they’re pretty offbeat themselves, in that lovable, rascally way, and tonight they’re on top form even by their own standards, cheekily joshing with us as they breezily bounce through as many hits as they can.
Straight away, there are plenty of shuffling feet in here for Got Science, Got Maths, What You Gonna Do? and Best Friend. That’s about as much as you can move, really. In between dancefloor faves Falling Down and Too Much, they’ve either made a new audience-participation game for The Library, or they’re making that bit up as they go along. We’recrouched on the floorfor part of it, whispering to each other that this is a library. It’s not, of course. Perkie’s back, for I Got Time, and they cover Ms Jackson as well.
There’s room for a couple of new songs, too: Feeling My Way, is, I think, played live for the first time ever, as an addition, before Postage Stamps, described by Will as “the first song where I don’t play guitar..” and then, cheekily, “we’re trying to phase it out”. Ironic cheers all around.
Guanabana Juice and Gotta Wait ostensibly bring the night to a close. There’s a big wooden beam right across the exit of the stage, though, so Gecko don’t even leave, just crouching down again, before returning for Safest Bet and Pigeon. We’re all deliriously happy by now: swaying awkwardly, shoulder to shoulder with all of our new friends, and shouting along. Wonderful.
See all our pictures from this show here.
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Perkie: ST/EP
Posted by jamie on Jan 20, 2012
Perkie
ST EP – self released, 2008
20th January, 2012
Jamie
If you’re a tad surprised that, in 2012, I’m sitting in to review an EP from 2008, then there are a few reasons for that: not least the fact that I’m not just addicted, but in fact totally over-the-moon in love with it. Until very recently, I hadn’t seen her in concert and, therefore hadn’t been able to get my hands on a copy.
If you possibly can, though, you really need to get yourself a copy of this little disc: it’s only five short songs in a plain brown sleeve, but as she is in concert, Perkie’s EP is deceptively powerful and deeply, profoundly moving.
Perkie plays a delightfully unique brand of acoustic, solo protest piano folk, and she does it her way as well: the songs here are immediately noticeable for their incisive wit, succinctly putting the world and all her troubles in their place and talking about things that really matter in a way that’s reassuringly, disarmingly positive. She tells it like it is, and does so with unflinching honesty, and a voice that’s as soft as warm honey and more powerful than an express train.
It comes as something of a surprise: she’s unassuming in person, and even the disc and its plain brown sleeve feel innocent and understated, but hidden in there is soft, smooth singing voice that flutes its way around the catchy little melodies like a tiny little butterfly, and then, hits you right there with great vengeance and furious anger before you’ve even realised.
It’s chin-on-the-floor beautiful, and incredibly moving, stuff, and inspiring, empowering at the same time. You’ll come away from it blinking like you’re coming out of the cinema on a sunny afternoon.
The keyboard parts are wonderful, simple-yet-effective, and Alex Johnson’s guitar parts give the more powerful songs body and a stronger, more resonant rhythm.
Perkie’s voice wraps you in a warm, soft blanket. Her tunes sit on the end of your tongue indefinitely, and her words will leave you feeling like the world can and will become a better place. It actually feels like a better place with every spin.
Gecko & friends: Amersham Arms
Posted by jamie on Dec 1, 2011
Gecko & friends
(the Leano, Liam O’Kane, Perkie, Joe York, Chapter Eleven)
Amersham Arms, New Cross
26th November 2011
Jamie
[WE’LL HAVE PICTURES OF THIS GIG UP SOON.]
For the end of November, we’ve got very few clouds. Were it not for the fact that we’ve travelled North to South across London in pitch darkness in the early evening (prevening?), it could easily be April. If these are the ideal conditions for a relaxed, intimate and ever-so-friendly show, where lots of people are family, and the rest of us are made to feel like that, then the Amersham Arms, bang across from New Cross Station, is close to the ideal venue: the back room is warm, dusty and dimly lit.
By the time we arrived, the music had started, and the atmosphere was already excellent: whatever the quality of the performances, it’s very rare to feel this privileged to have been a part of something that’s this nice. From the off, it’s clear that everyone is really delighted to be here, to be enjoying each other’s company and excited about all of the music.
Credit’s due to the lovable urchins in Gecko for that: they’ve called this the Gecko and Friends UK Tour, and it clearly was that, but tonight we’re all lucky that Gecko are friends with so many artists that are so talented, and that they’ve found the charisma to bring them all together for this: a brilliantly entertaining and eclectic bill that’s managed to show off six excellent and very different takes on exactly where reggae, punk, folk and ska all come together.
Without Hassan permanently, and missing Sweep for the night, Asher Baker represented Chapter Eleven, by all accounts, to distinction. Having misread the facebook event, we actually missed his set (sorry, bud), and arrived midway through a charmingly idiosyncratic performance from Joe York. As ever, Joe plays his rabble-rousing songs with his heart on his sleeve. Tonight, he’s got a three-piece going with a drummer and another guitarist: it’s given a lot more body to the sound, and it’s great to watch - all of a sudden those edgy little acoustic folk/punk tunes sound bigger and more powerful, his lilting, eerie reggae melodies embellished nicely by the added power in the guitars and the messages in his lyrics given real strength by the gang vocals: it’s a gang of three to begin with, but a gang of everyone you can see by the time he’s done. Joe’s great fun to watch, as ever, and bigger and louder with his band.
Perkie, next, is something else entirely. A hurried little chat with the ever-charming Liam O’Kane had warned me to “prepare to be moved”, but there’s not much that can prepare you for this. It’s my first time seeing Perkie perform, and I spent most of it standing still with my mouth open, which doesn’t happen often. Her songs are excellent: lovely, hummy protest-folk, but the money-shot is her incredible voice: rich, soothing and so smooth it’s enchanting. The inside of my head feels like your fingertips do after a long soak in a Radox bath. Impossibly powerful for something that sounds so soft.
Perkie forgot the words to one song, and gave up on it a few times. Such is the warmth and sense of intimacy in the room, though, that it’s just a little bit funny and her set carries on seamlessly. She sits and chats for a bit, toying over what to play, and aimlessly charming all of us as she thinks about it. Eventually someone decides for her, and it turns out she’s got just three songs left. It feels like it’s over much too quickly.
Liam O’Kane is on fine form. He opens with Jimmy the Squirrel’s Leave the Grey, and chats matter–of-factly about the need for us to “be more like Perkie and less like him”, as an introduction to his next song, about how important it is to protest against things we see as wrong, rather than just moping about it. It’s appropriate, given the context, not least as he was introduced on stage by Attila the Stockbroker (yes, really, and yes, it surprised me too) that there is that element of social commentary in Liam’s songs. It’s equally evident in his patter, of course: his brilliantly dead-pan, self-deprecating wit sparkles as much outside his songs as it does in them.
Liam’s solo set is full of that, and it’s an absolute treat. His lilting, melancholy vocal really hits the spot, and draws real appreciation from the hush down here in the near-dark. It’s mainly newer songs, the tone in keeping with Jimmy’s Whatever the Weather, until his last one, the infectious, sing-and-clap-along joy of Politeness is Free, as enjoyable as ever.
There’s more from Attila, and then we’re treated to an extraordinary performance from the Leano. Throughout his set, his mouth never stops moving: instead he’s constantly cajoling us in to circles, moving us around, and even making Theo a conductor. It’s a surreal and totally unique take on audience participation to accompany his distinctive unity songs that mash rap with spoken word with acoustic guitar. The way it’s all put together is ingenious, but, again, it’s the way it’s performed that makes this work: the Leano speaks earnestly and with authority, while ushering and organising his growing crowd around him in circles, orchestrating every movement and even making us conduct ourselves. It’s the hardest thing in the world to explain, because it’s so different to what we’ve seen before, but it’s the oddest, most empowering fun going. At one point he has us all turned around to face back out towards the bar, and singing at the people sitting drinking. I can’t remember why. It was joyous, though, and they dug it.
And so, at last, to Gecko. We’re all well and truly warmed up, in every sense of the words, by the time they step in to the half-light on the stage: first Ben, then Simon and Gabe. Will steps on last, rock-star style: strolling through the crowd from the back and stepping on to stage at front centre after the band have begun to play Got Science. Despite having become famous as a sort of semi-acoustic act, tonight Gecko are the first and only “full” band to play. That, and their, triumphant end-of-tour home-town-show swagger has transformed them in to bona-fide rock stars: impudent as ever, but oozing confidence and owning their headline slot with nonchalant ease. They’ve brought a big crew with them, and we’re all eager to bob and sway along to Falling Down, Too Much, and the Library.
Best Friend is the only song from the Pigeon EP in tonight’s set, and goes down well: fairly obviously, most people here are familiar with Gecko and already know the new songs well. Perkie joins the lads on stage to duet on Kelis’s Millionaire and sticks around for I Got Time. They wrap up with Camden, and, obviously, Guananabana Juice. At this point there’s a few Guanabana Juices in the air: Juna Fruits have discovered Gecko and followed them on tour to give away the best of all drinks at shows. It’s actually very, very nice, by the way.
It’s all over much too quickly: it might be the crazy warmth, the Guanabana or whatever, but that seemed to happen really fast. Noone’s really ready to go home, except Attila the Stockbroker, who has a train to catch, and so there’s scope for two more songs. Those songs are Gotta Wait and, finally, Pigeon, performed with Ricky, off of the cover of the Pigeon EP, and every single band member on stage.
It’s the coolest thing when everyone is friends with each other, and, in rooms like this, on nights like this, everyone you haven’t met quickly becomes your friend anyway. All of that, and the pogoing, arms over shoulders, and mass bawling of “he’s got nothing to say!” have sort of turned us all in to one right now. It’s finished after this, and it turns out that we should have been on Attila’s train. The Leano was around to help us on a bus back to North London, though. Just in case. He’s a thoroughly nice chap.
Kudos to Gecko for meeting so many lovely and exciting musicians, and for bringing them all here to play for us. They actually really are all friends. By the end of this, everyone is.
Travel warning: if you’re coming to New Cross – for this, for example – check your trains. It takes a long time to get home by bus.
