Tag: ock

Tidy: Talk in Code at The Vic with Riviera Arcade and Flora Flora

It was only ever supposed to be a single launch gig but it could’ve been for a gold-crested gatefold triple LP, because Talk in Code were larging it last night at their hometown premier venue, Swindon’s Victoria. The crowd was ecstatic and the atmosphere was highly flammable…..strike a light!

If witnessing a great band on their own turf adds a communal elevation to the thrill of seeing them at all, Talk in Code certainly pulled out all the stops, even if the je-ne-sais quoi of these masters of indie-pop perform with sublime quality anywhere they happen to appear.

If this crossing the friend barrier themed quintessential grower, More Than Friends sits perfectly into their eighties vibe discography, we were leaked forthcoming singles might venture somewhere slightly different, but right here, now, at The Vic, Talk in Code was rewarded equal rapturous praise in throwing it out there as they were marching triumphantly through their beloved anthems.

Tunes which, like the best memorable pop, have universal and timeless appeal. At a Talk in Code gig you could mute the sound and still comprehend that the individual takes what they want from their style by observing the diversity of the demographic present. Here, this tight group of musicians evoke memories of everything gorgeous about eighties pop from Ah-Ha to Simple Minds, for me. One generation younger, especially when they backtracked to Oxygen, might wallow in nineties indie, and likewise youth will recognise their own contemporary influences.

If homeliness provides confidence to experiment, we were treated to something I’ve never seen Talk in Code do before; as the band Twix breaked, dynamic Adidas- sponsored frontman Chris Stevens proved he was no one trick pony, and blessed the Vic with an immaculate acoustic number, an original he called We Remain.

If appreciation was a pair of knickers, Talk in Code would have a visible panty line, as devotee “Talkers” in blue sunglasses and merch amassed between Vic regulars, equally relishing their vibrant, danceable and electric hoedown! And all took home a CD embossed goodie bag akin to a toddler’s birthday party, save a slice of squashed sponge cake!

Yet if there’s an honourable family-fashioned ambience surrounding this band, where Talkers would follow them to the four corners of the globe, else create Lego fan-videos or shower them with deserved fondness, the mood for a quality evening was pre-set by two awesome support acts TiC cherrypicked.

Gloucestershire soloist, songwriter and model Flora Flora opened the gig with acoustic splendour. New to me, I’m now keenly following her socials. Not because she took control of my phone from my intoxicated sausage fingers to ensure I did, though she did, but because I’ve since come to realise there’s subsequent levels to her talent than the perfection of her rocking performance last night!

An inspiring Gen Z Swifty wordsmith, crafting evocative songs praised and played by our hero James Threlfall on BBC Introducing. A new one drops on streaming platforms on 29th August but is available now on Bandcamp, Need to Say; it’s far more ethereal than Flora Flora’s edgier performance, and you’ll be foolish not to bookmark it as a favourite; fill your ankle-length boots.

Penultimate act, Bristol-Swindon longstanding five-piece rockers Riviera Arcade, I must confess, I preconceived to be a fair, hard rock band; they certainly came out like one. It only took near to the completion of the first song for me to come to complex reasoning why they’re punching well above that weight. Multi-layered precision with captivating guitar riffs set me contemplating subtle nods to eighties mod or punk, sometimes skanking, but still, it heralded heavier rock. They’ve a 2022 album Gone By Ten on stream, so you can hear what I’m waffling about.

An interesting and certainly unique style which, while I was thinking The Police or Costello, they finalised their set of beguiling originals with an apt and superbly delivered cover of The Stones’ Paint it Black, a perfect summary to their ethos. I returned home as a newfound fan, a bit wobbly on my feet and Notra-Dame bells ringing in my ears fan, but deffo a fan!

Talk in Code was officially on the best form I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness, but it was the combination of acts, venue and atmosphere which famed this fantastic night too; The Vic is renowned for doing so, historically. Owner Darren Simons assured me, though the venue is up for grabs, it’s only going to someone prepared to continue in his shoes, so this flagship to Wiltshire live music should thankfully continue to reign; dodge magic roundabouts and onwards to The Shuffle!

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Dylan Smith: Cruel to be Kind

Yeah, the title of Dylan’s debut album, Cruel to be Kind could be an insight into how we conduct our reviews, but being as I missed him yet again when he came to the Southgate, I should really be kind to be kind, asides, there’s nothing in this album to be cruel about….

My excuse was festival season, I was invited to The Devizes Scooter Rally the weekend his name was chalked upon the Gate’s blackboard. Looking for a skinhead friend of mine there proved impossible amidst a sea of skinheads! Without this turning pythonesque, dwelling on Dylan’s fantastic beard, the likes of which I’d have spotted him straight away with, should he have been there, allow me this brief Arthur Twosheds Jackson moment, and we’ll digress onto his music!

While listening I’m contemplating his very name suggests he comes from a musical family, or fans of the Magic Roundabout at the very least. It could be duly noted Dylan these days may well be a name given by parents with no clue to the legendary folk singer, a Dylan the age of Dylan Smith would suggest otherwise. This I haven’t asked him about, I’m making an assumption here, because this album is so eclectic, yet from whichever angle a track off it comes at you, it’s proficiently delivered with the seemingly ease to justify the notion Dylan Smith was born for this.

The title track opens this fifteen track musical marathon. It’s the nice, smooth and breezy folk-rock I was expecting, it’s Tom Petty, vocally, and with a similar hook. However the one time I did meet Dylan, which was when he was backing Becky Lawrence on guitar at the Female of the Species annual fundraiser in Seend, and I asked him to summarise his sound, he was rather generalised and heterogeneous about pigeonholing it. The intro of the second tune, Play the Game, was unexpected, until I recalled that conversation. I mean, through to its conclusion it holds a strong wailing guitar riff, but it kicks in as if I’m about to listen to Orbital, or some other nineties downtempo slice of electronica. It is at this conjunction you accept Cruel to be Kind is going to be a ride through musical influences.

Dylan with Becky Lawrence at the Female of the Species Halloween Party in Seend!

Then, we’re back into rock citing Nashville country by the third tune, with a drifting sound and a reminiscing theme. If you were a nipper in 1983, as is its title, you’ll nod, and perhaps think the witty cultural references are wicked (in the eighties ironic slang usage of the term!) younger listeners may need Google, but I’d predict the effect remains the same; this tune celebrates the diversity Of Dylan’s work, and his ability to apply ruminative narrative.

By now you’re immersed in Dylan’s world, and willing to accept whatever he deems appropriate to throw at you. Check You Out, is quirky and the tad saucy of ZZ Top in content, followed by a beautiful ballad, or two, but we’re only halfway through and anything could happen. Memory Lane again focuses on retrospective reminiscences, with a bouncy acoustic number, I’m awash thinking of classic influences, yeah, Dylan and Cash, but the experimental side of the Beatles and Beach Boys too, and this one finishes on a whistle akin to Otis sitting on the dock of the bay. 

In conclusion to citing influences, a Nils Lofgren of Trowbridge, and as a guitar teacher too I guess Dylan needs to be diverse, perhaps, but there’s so much going on here, stop the press; nine tunes in and Living Fantasy is funky electronica pop! Then whoa, bluegrass supersedes, and we’re back in Dylan’s comfort zone, this Tom Petty folk-rock rings throughout, but there’s no accounting where he’ll go next. A man after my own heart, I feel, as I couldn’t do desert island discs, couldn’t bear to reduce myself to a few genres, let alone a few albums!

But there’s thoughtful prose, genius writing, and adroit guitar work throughout this musical melting pot, even if Dylan can’t decide on moderating to a subgenre; his style is unique and detectable from whatever pigeonhole you care to plonk a particular tune into. The album drifts along in similar fashion to the close, it’s beguiling, yet as there’s a lot of it, you begin to take Dylan’s talent for granted, until it’s over. There is a pocket of variation when Lucie Reyonds vocals on a song called Something to Share. Now, if this one doesn’t standalone to prove the wealth of Dylan’s virtuosity in composure and writing, nothing will.

It’s wonderfully enchanting, as is the album, an interestingly diverse treasure you’ll return to and discover more to, like gags in an Airplane movie! Now who’s taking us back to 1983, and if we could, Dylan, just return to your fantastic beard for a moment?!

For more info on Dylan Smith and to buy the album, see Dylan’s Website HERE

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