Alt-J are cleverly named after a keyboard shortcut. If you type it on a Mac keyboard It delivers the Greek letter delta ∆. When the combination is executed on a windows machine it is supposed to open the media player. It’s not happening on mine, though. Nevermind.

You could not avoid hearing of Alt-J since the debut album, An Awesome Wave, came out. They got an instant hype on the British music blogsphere. It was about a year ago, May 2012. From the release to the Mercury Prize nomination, about 2 months apart, the growth has been exponential. From the nomination to winning the Mercury prize in september it became unstoppable.

It also attracted Pitchfork attention but England from Chicago is quite far and despite the review was written by the Manchester based editor, the best young music journalist out there, Laura Snapes, her words aren’t in line with the rest of the british press (Clash, Q, NME, DiS… ). I tend to agree with Laura, or with Pitchfork, you choose.

I also tend to be prejudicial but I wasn’t this time. I gave the album several listening yet it did not impressed me.
Together with many 2012 releases that created a storm leaving me indifferent, Alt-J triggered the belief that I was getting unsympathetic with new music.

I always said that there is nothing wrong, once passed 40s, to not be moved by music written by youngsters for their peers.
It’s hard to accept and I am not good on dealing with my ageing, but I am good at rationalizing.

In the ageing unstoppable process, 2013 arrived and, surprisingly, brought some outstanding releases. I have today to acknowledge that I can still be moved by new music, Savages anyone? Maybe it wasn’t an age issue, just the sequence of notes, chords and sounds on those records not appealing to my ears.

In brief (I have to create space for some photos you know) I never liked Alt-J album despite it is one of the few I gave several spins.

For the records, Alt-J formed in 2007 (Wiki source) at Uni in Leeds. A long period to put together ideas and songs till a demo EP released in 2011 and the debut, An Awesome Wave, in 2012 once their effort was recognised and finally signed by Infectious records.
Too long? Maybe. In five years a young band changes too many ideas and if the songs try to bring all of them together the result is messy. Which is what I believe is a problem of the album.

Alt-J yesterday came back to Cambridge with a sold-out gig in the largest of the city’s venues, the Corn Exchange.
Yes, came back because I learnt that Alt-J moved to Cambridge post-Leeds and have been rehearsing here for further 2 years before going to London to record the album.

If you think that I must have stumbled upon them in any Cambridge pub where live music happens daily, well, you’ll be disappointed. I have never heard of them around and learnt of their Cambridge residency only recently. They kept it secret.

I was keen to see Alt-J live. I haven’t been to many gigs this spring 2013 and a show of an upcoming big act in Cambridge is, sadly, becoming a rarity.
Among a quite depressing “What’s On” schedule of declining music stars, musicals and cover bands arriving regularly to the Corn Exchange, a venue where I like to photograph because of the bright lights often provided, the arrive of Alt-J was a breath of fresh air.

To be honest a bit too fresh to be the 14th of May!
Heavy rains, temperature below 10 C degrees and an Italian virus which won my English antibodies, conspired to keep me at home. I am persistent enough, once the pass had been approved, I got paracetamol, got on the scooter in the rain and, drenched, got inside the Corn Exchange very early, together with the hard-core (and very young) fans.

While waiting, I tweeted some complain about the weather pondering whether Alt-J show would be good enough to justify such a miserable trip. Not sure that mentioning @alt_J was a good move.
I love conspiracies theories (I’m Italian), especially if they are supposed to be against me. Feed my egomaniac soul!

Whether someone read it or not, I was approached by the security of the Corn Exchange advising that the band’s management wants photographers to be escorted out of the venue after the 3 songs for the photos.

We were two. A young guy, first time here, asking me if this was the usual policy. I said that I have been shooting bands at the Corn Exchange for 10 years, hundreds and hundreds of shows, and it never happened to be escorted out without letting me stay to see the gig. Curious.

So… three songs on and I was out in company of the rain. Back on the scooter. Back home.
It is impossible to review this show, sadly, because I was liking it.

The band live, despite remaining a British indie band in love with Radiohead has a sound that is livelier than many more I have seen.
In the very difficult attempt to refresh a music that gave its best a decade ago with an infusion of nervous- electro-vibes that are depicting this decade, Alt-J were convincing me after 10 minutes.
I wasn’t allowed to listen to the other 50 minutes so I can’t comment further.

I’ll wait for the next time, hoping that the hype won’t be too high and the snobbish attitude would be left out to give space to the down-to-heart nature of indie-rock.

In the meanwhile, I mean from when I wrote this 24 hours ago to now, Alt-J added the Best Album at The Ivor Novello Awards among their achievements. Congratulations. Better you follow Alt-J online here to know what’s gonna be next: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

Too much light? Yes, it’s rare but it happens. And contrary to what you’d expect, I’m about to complaining about it.

Alt-J show was full of light. Packed with bright spots, columns of leds, strobes. Far more light than needed.
I found myself shooting at f8, with fast shutter, ISO800 and below. Miles away to the struggling 1/80s f2.8 ISO6400 which is the standard.

Still, I was disappointed. Or not too happy.

Despite we need light to create images, unbalanced light is a problem.
When the difference between the brightest areas and the darkest is so huge, not only Ansel Adams’ zone system but even modern sensors, despite their huge exposure latitude, suffer to cope.

I tried spot metering, I tried “manual everything” still some images cannot be balanced and I had to opt to what to get exposed and what to get either totally burnt or totally dark.

It is surely easier to deal with more light than less light. Technically it is as difficult and you need to read and interpret it in the quick slot you have allocated.

In a split second you need to know what is your subject. You need to get it well exposed. Composed. You need to know what will happen to the rest of the frame. You need to follow the gig and think at the next photo.

One of the ways to achieve this is to use spot metering, as long as you know what spot metering do and doesn’t. In theory you want to point an average lit area. Not the brightest not the darkest.

In the real world the brightest area is the easier to notice and, often, also the ones you want in focus (i.e. a singer’s face hit by a white spot). A way to achieve a good result is to point the bright face with spot metering and at the same time compensate the exposure. Try overexposing a couple of spots. i.e. +2 or even +3 EV.

The result is the bright spot (the face) being brighter than average (but still readable in the details) with that +3 able to bring out of the darkness the shadows.

If you like burst shooting, give bracketing a go. It means setting the camera (most can, check your manual) to shoot 5 or even 7 frames in sequence with the exposure +/- 2-3 EV around a preferred setting.

It is not something I do, because I am not a fan of burst shooting (I tend to wait for the moment before pressing the shutter) and because, concerts not being as landscapes, in the few seconds of the bracketing the scene changes and the best composed photo risks to be the wrong exposed.

To me good composition comes first than good exposure. You can address exposure more in post-editing than composition.

It’s a tough time for personal blogs, social networks more than driving traffic to them, nowadays are withdrawing from them.
Once there was liveon35mm.com … you went there to see concert shots.
Then it was myspace and Facebook and twitter. I put a link on there everytime something new was posted here. You clicked on the link and came to see photos and read my crap words.

Nowadays we have too many FB friends, following countless on Twitter and we scroll everything on a phone. The most we do is clicking a like or commenting “awesome” without even opening the page. Facebook pages have more visitors than the webpage they aim to sponsor.

Which translates, what I am writing now will be read by fewer people of the short sentence I’ll write on FB and Twitter to sponsor it. So better keep it short and let the photos speak.
But I don’t believe photos can speak for themselves, so few words.

This is back from March. Jessie Ware opened her 2013 tour at the Junction in Cambridge, her most anticipated tour, and for a while I wanted to catch her live.

Jessie Ware is a hot pop musician at present. She is liked by people, mainstream, blogger and last year her debut album was one of the 12 Mercury nominated records.

Apparently everyone, in UK at least, writes and says only good things about her at the moment.
Jessie Ware has the rare merit of let the mainstream press to agree with the blogsphere. The hipsters and the general public.
Could I miss this? No I couldn’t.

The consequence of the general ovation is a 85 out of 100 Metacritic score.
After few years lending her talent to other British acts, as SBTRKT or Jack Penate she went solo.

Side Comment: What did happen to Jack Penate? I still remember being almost insulted when I said to someone who thought he was about to storming the music scene that he would have not stormed even his living room in a couple of years.

Jessie Ware, on the contrary did. Someone picked her back voice and made it front. Good choice, the voice is good and the scene is perfect for her dance infused pop with no frills for the “austerity age”.

I don’t know how to describe the music except for being simple, light-hearted but also wholehearted. Jessie doesn’t exaggerate anything in her songs, they’re just about right.

The same happens at the concert. No light excess, no pop grandeur. A simple stage, simple lights, simple dress and good pop songs to make everyone at the Junction happy, and everywhere else sold out.

Laura Mvula support was a hard to beat set, but Jessie didn’t compete. She just stack to what she can do best: sing her songs. And she delivered a faultless set.

I haven’t been converted into a fan, this is not the music. I will never sit at home with a Jessie Ware album spinning on my record player. It is not even the music I would buy a ticket for another concert, but this is me. An incurable lover of depressing and unorthodox sounds.

Still I was curious enough and wanted to see her live. Which you may well do. Consider the plus that likely for few months you can still catch Jessie in reasonably small venues. If you wait for the next record you may be rushing on seetickets website to get a seat miles away from the stage on a big arena.

Follow her success online here some links: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

What Camera bag to use for concerts?
I realised I have never talked about camera bags in the photo tip. There is a reason. Camera for concerts are not so important as when you do street or travel photography (unless you walk from home to the venue!)

I don’t think there is a perfect bag, every photographer has her/his favourite, my experience suggests that, whichever you like, it’s better to go cheap.

It’s about 10 years I shoot concerts. I started on film with prime lenses, that meant carrying two or three small bodies, lenses and few films at hand ready to use. 35mm film gear was substantially smaller and lighter than most recent digital equipment unless you had the massive Contax AX with you. (comment – undoubtedly this is the best SLR film camera ever made – end of comment).

I moved to digital and zooms only few years ago. Everything became heavier and bulkier. So the bag needed to be larger to fit all the lenses. You don’t have films, memory cards are tiny but you want to bring spare batteries.

The key point about a bag, is that at concert you can’t have your bag with you.
Either shoulder, belt or backpack, a pit is too tiny to have it on you without being a hindrance (and insulted) by other concert photographers. Don’t!

The ideal setting, if you can afford two bodies, is a strap that allows you to hold the two cameras with the lenses you use the most on each shoulder at all time.
The standard choice is a 24-70mm + 70-200mm. That would cover 95% of a concert situation but I consider going wide with the 14-24mm if the venue is a tiny one, or keep a fast prime at hand if it is a very dark one.

If you don’t have two cameras, or if you use more than two lenses, start with the 24-70mm (still covering 75% of your need in a medium size concert). Your other gear will stay in a bag sitting under the barrier that divides the pit from the fans.

Access is not easy. You will have to kneel down in the dark, change lens with people moving around and start again. Three songs go very quick so all you need is a bag is easily accessible with lenses ready to use. Leave all lenses uncapped with hood mounted. It is better some dust that to miss the good shot because you forget to remove the front cap.

To close, my “best bag for concerts” suggestion is to leave your best bag at home.
Your fashionable Crumpler or Think Tank bag will get dirt and all those clever sized pockets and comfortable straps won’t be useful.

Bring instead that old cheap black bag you bought years ago and abandoned somewhere. You won’t have to carry it around, so it’s not important that it’s comfortable. You won’t have to show it off, so it’s not important it looks cool. Actually quite the opposite. if you’re in a small pit with fellow photographers you meet all the time, fine, but if you are at a big festival with tens of photographer you’ll never see again I would be cautious of leaving your expensive gear exposed in a fashionable bag. You know what I mean.

I have been thinking about this since the winner of 2013 World Press Photo have been announced. I was working at some photos I shoot in Kashmir that I had post-edited two years ago and now do not fit my taste.
I brought the cursor back to the original levels and looked more balanced.

I am not a radical of un-touching raw files. I don’t believe photography represent the “real” it never did since the day Daguerre photographed a street that looks desert apart from what it is supposed to be a shoe-shiner. Road wasn’t desert, it is the long exposure needed that did not allowed the people walking on the pavements to be recorded.

I don’t think a camera sensor is faithful to reality and I am for using retouching software to the point it helps on having our picture as we want it. Indeed the perfect negative (or raw file) still is a noble concept, but if we can get our shots to be what we intended It is then up to our ethic and taste to stop and decide if it is too much or not.

Going back to my post-editing, revisiting my photographs I moved the saturation down to normal. Then down again till the RGB channels were silenced and the image became a plain monochromatic, familiar, old black and white.

Then I asked myself a question.
Black and white is nothing else then one extreme of photo manipulation. Black and white is fictional, it is not real, it is photography on class A drugs. Black and white is not what we see in the viewfinder is not what we have in front of us either. More, none of us has ever seen the world in black and white.

Still, no jury would ever think to reject an entry to a photo contest because the image is black and white. Black and white is tolerated, even appreciated, surely permitted. Leica has just launched a digital body which sensor records only B&W images. It’s like putting in your camera the old Tri-x film film.

In the meanwhile the entire web has been discussing, animated, whether the image winning the WPP, which is clearly desaturated from its original tones but not to the point of monochrome, was tolerable. The argument being, it is not real, it is an artefact to emphasize and exploit the human natural reaction to pain making it more similar to Hollywood posters than the Gaza reality.

This Kaiser Chiefs gig happened on Saint David which in Wales, and elsewhere because of the osmosis of Welsh people throughout UK, translates into a big night out with ‘permission’ to drink more than usual. Many people arrived to the Corn Exchange enjoying Kaiser Chiefs in the company of several pints.

Years ago I read that if alcohol was discovered today it would be sent to top the list of Class A drugs, banned worldwide and its commerce outlawed. As that of cocaine, crack and heroine. Alcohol is on sale, though, cheap too. it is a permitted class A drug and this is only because it’s known by 5 millenniums or so and became part of the cultural background of humanity. It has rooted so deeply that cannot be eradicated.

B&W photography it is not yet 2 centuries old but digital manipulation software are not more than 2 decades. It makes a meaningful comparison.
We accept B&W because in 1880 there was no option but taking a B&W image. Colour was non-existent. We accepted it the same way we smile at a Roman mosaic depicting Bacchus drunk in a Roman Villa.

It’s archetypical. B&W photos (or alcohol) are tolerated more than manipulated images (or heroine) only because back in time these were only options. We got to accept, digest, them.
When some new stuff emerges we are scared and natural reaction to fear is rejection. We are not ready, we don’t have the enzymes to digest and we think it may be dangerous for our health.

I am not a fan of Kaiser Chiefs but, with or without alcohol, they know how to put a concert on. Live is one of the most enjoyable band to photograph. They have fun and their fans have too. They always wanted to take the rock’n’roll side of bands as The Who and revamp those feelings bringing mod culture into a new millennium.

Rickie Wilson secreat dream is to be reborn Roger Daltrey. He studied any stage attitude of The Who singer.
I have followed Kaiser Chiefs throughout their career without much pathos. It’s not my band but undeniably songs as I predict a Riot or Ruby or Oh My God that they wrote in 4 or so albums are perfect pop-songs.

These never seen before black and white photos of Kaiser Chiefs here were shot on film in 2005 when the band was first on the line-up of the most successful of NME Award tour and The Killers still allowed photographers to shoot their shows.
I haven’t scanned the negatives for a long while, they opened the NME tour night in this same Cambridge Corn Exchange. They were followed by the likes of Bloc Party, Futurheads and The Killers.

The colour photos, are for a bout a month ago. March 2013. There are 8 years in the between, the same amount of energy, a bit less jumps to be fair, but much more self-confidence and professionalism.
Maybe many of those kids enjoying I Predict a Riot for the first time came back tonight. The audience is older than I’d expected, less hair, more beer belly and rings on left hands.
Maybe a teenage babysitter is at home listening to Kaiser Chiefs CDs.

Kaiser Chiefs are not going to be The Who, but they’re going to be remembered for being a fun show to watch. If it were the nineties, a Greatest hits CD would sell a lot now. These days all you can get is a greatest hits concert. Which you should treat yourself with if you like the happy side of British pop.

Follow them around and check when it’ll going to be next to your home.
Here: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

restrictions. Restrictions. RESTRICTIONS!
Three songs, that is fine, actually it is not fine at all, the concert got much better towards the end but this is tolerated by concert photographers as alcohol and B&W are by modern society.

I shot hundreds of shows at the Corn Exchange and its pit is the first I entered with a proper photopass. It was Black Rebel Motorcycle Club concert almost 10 years ago.
The pit is large, the stage is pretty high, lights are good. One problem is the side walls of original red bricks on the sides of the stage that can make a confusing background.

Overall I like shooting here and photographers are allowed to stay for the show, if they want to.
Actually, it is even better. There is a nice mezzanine for VIP (!?), accessible with a photopass, where to sit and enjoy the show out of the crowd after those three songs.

This is also a nice spot to take photos from the back of the venue. With a 70-200mm lens the stage is framed, the crowd is a dark silouhette. Some experience with gig photography allows to snap the ‘decisive moment’ and experience with a camera would tell the setting for a perfect exposure.

What’s the problem? You tell me. The problem is that some security people that perhaps are paid to look at me, instead of monitoring the venue security, come up as soon as I snap some photos. They arrive with the clear body language, red in face in anger, shocked and willing to exercise a useless power, telling me what? To stop shooting. Three songs are over you are not allowed to take pictures.

Every other fan is doing it, and they don’t care. The excuse is that fans don’t use professional camera, the reality is that it is impossible to stop everyone while is much easier to stop me.

So why letting a band be represented by unprofessional photos taken by non photographers instead of being represented by good images that would reflect better a show.
Oh, You tell me! One of the most difficult skills of concert photography is not about the right camera settings, but about the right moment. To understand when the photo is there, half a second before it happens in order to catch it….”Well, this is not allowed. If you keep taking pictures you will have to leave the venue.”

Nonsense. I said it many times. I will keep saying it. It is utter nonsense.
Against photography, against bands, against music, against venue and even against the security of the fans.

Morning coffee. It is the 6th of March 2013.
Reading the papers, I am in the live music reviews to check live pics and I come across two pictures of the same girl.

I learn that Laura Mvula debuted at the Tabernacle in London with a show presenting her album released the day before: Sing To The Moon.
The Guardian and the Independent both have a review of the same gig. Something you may expect for the return of My Bloody Valentine or Radiohead but not of an emerging singer unless…

Lunchtime. Still the 6th of March.
I receive the e-mail confirming I am assigned to shoot Jessie Ware opening her tour at the Junction in Cambridge.
As I usually do in this situations, lunchtime browsing to check live photo to see what to expect and a quick visit at songkick.com to know who’s Jessie Ware‘s support and decide if it is worth going to take some snaps.
Surprise surprise, Laura Mvula will be opening this tour.

Evening. The same 6th of March.
The English expression “to kill two birds with one stone” doesn’t sound nice here but surely I am about to shooting two birds with one camera in a couple of hours.

I do some more research to discover that it is, as usual, my fault.
Laura Mvula is 4th on BBC sounds of 2013 poll, the same of Savages that I recently just posted. She is also shortlisted as critic’s choice awards at the Brits and has appeared at TV shows.
Such exposure is also possible because RCA (owned by Sony) signed her. There is a big production working on the background but it is nice to see it allocated where it is also deserved.

Night. 6th of March. 12 hours since I read the morning papers.
Many people arrive early at the Junction and it looks clear this is one of those rare occasions when a ‘double bill’ is worth its name.
Laura Mvula is not just a filler to avoid fans that the night they look for ends too early. People are arriving early to check her live.

Laura Mvula arrives on stage with a six pieces band. A double bass, cello and her sister, Dionne, on violin. Full strings support the warm sound of her songs.
She sits at the keys and it is clear from the beginning, even before she begins to sing, I am in front of a ‘pop star to be’.

Laura has the charisma, the attitude and the stage presence of someone who is confident and has only to wait to be big.

As soon as she sings I get the full picture. Literally.
Classically trained, soul inspired, pop driven and Jazz lover, the songs have everything to please a wide audience. And the audience appreciate.

Her natural place would be (and will be, trust me) Later with … Jools Holland or a spot at one of those literary festival, as Cambridge folk or Latitude stage.

I am not a fan of easy listening, soul-gospel-infused-pop or anything that can remind me of it, either in its historical form or in any Michael Kiwanuka surrogate. It’s me, it leaves me cold.
But I have to be sincere, Laura Mvula is talented and throughout the short slot she plays, I can hear songs deserve to have a bigger place. They are not derivative, they are good and she makes them very personal.

British audience love this music. Since HMV agonized, supermarkets CD sales increased and WHSmith re-stocked its chain with recorded music.
It will be nice to see those commercial spaces diplaying a quality album among the ‘reduced to clear’ pop crap.

Since Amy’s death, Duffy’s flop, Lily’s baby and Adele’s Oscar there is a void to be filled in the market.

RCA smelled it and signed Laura Mvula to fill the void. 2013 will be her year, she’s only 25, and a world is waiting to listen to her songs.

With such a short time, I don’t really have much more to say about her, I am now listening to her album on on spotify and will surely go back to photograph her once she does her very own tour.

If you are a fan of Emeli Sande or Lauryn Hill and I made you curious enough, these are the first places to satisfy your curiosity: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

There are concerts where the first three songs are in complete darkness (talking to you Nick Cave) or under red lights (and you Mark Lanegan) and there are songs where the artist for the first three songs is stuck on a side.

Then, as the last chord of the third songs is played, the security guy ‘kindly’ escorts photographers out of the pit, the artist comes out in full splendour.

I don’t know if this is done on purpose (why?) or because they don’t know (I’m telling you!) but if you are an emerging artist, or anyone in search of media exposure, if you accept photographers and want to be represented at your best by images, it’s better you give a variety of your performance at the beginning. Everything that will happen late would be unreported or, worse, reported on youtube crap.

Laura arrives and sits behind the keyboards for the first three songs. I appreciated this may be an artistic choice which cannot be changed but we stay there for 10 minutes and to take the same picture hundred times means there will be only one photo, samey, for anyone.
Then, as soon as I leave the pit, she stands to sing the rest of the set.

This is a short appeal, destined to go unread but, if you are a musician and you want to see pictures of you that are not all the same, since we are allowed for the first three songs to portray you, it is better if you start your show with three songs that show what to expect from your gig.

I know it is your choice, but let me tell you, photography helps much more than word to fix your image in peoples’ mind. Never underestimate the power of a good image.

The Stool Pigeon have been among the first to discover the post-punk mix of this all-girls band which is quite far from being another all-girls band. They interviewed Savages exactly one year ago when very few have heard of them.

Since then, Savages rise has been phenomenal.
I’m not a statistics expert and don’t mind to google but I am pretty sure it is unprecedented at least since I am in England that a band which has released only a single, Husbands, and a 4 songs live EP, I Am Here, would sell out a venue of the size of the Electric Ballroom in London. To make the closest example, a couple of weeks before this place was not sold out by Dinosaur Jr for a parent NME awards gig.

Savages have checked points that other artists wait years to reach. In the space of three days, it was May 2012 they were elevated to the status of “New Band of The Day” on the Guardian and a “Rising” act for Pitchfork.
Towards the end of the year they got even bigger. To play at Later… with Jools Holland? Checked. To be on the BBC “Sound of 2013″ list? Checked.

Hype is a thing but UK taught me that hype alone doesn’t bring bands very far. Remember Duffy? “Oh true Duffy, what happened to her?”. Remember Morrissey and NME praised The Courteneers? “Oh yeah, they were… erm…”. Exactly. That.

The shares of lads-in-skinny-jeans, jangly, guitar-driven, indie rock, ares not doing well on the music’s City.
It is also true that girls’ lead and all-girls band are the obvious, expected and welcomed consequence of the dullness of seeing the same band cloned for 10 years the same songs, from The Strokes to The Vaccines.
Selling Babyshambles, buying Warpaint. Selling Franz Ferdinand buying Savages seems a great investment in 2013.

Still Savages don’t live out of a positive market environment. The opposite. They contribute to this positivity with a dose of energy that materializes in lively live shows that in about a year gained them a legion of fans.
Every one of them is here tonight and they are waiting for the summer to be there, when the live energy will have translate into their debut album.

The festival season, with no Olympic Games and Glasto come back is expected to be great this year and, from Field Day ahead, I am sure Savages will be filling up any possible summer stage. Let’s hope Global warming remembers UK.

As for this cold winter date, the Electric Ballroom gigs is warmed up by a dance company performing a contemporary choreography off stage. When Savages time arrives, they appear out of dense blue smokes as white lights. which is a perfect metaphor of the way they emerged on the British scene.

They don’t look savage. They sound savage. Look-wise band is closer to Warpaint than to Siouxsie or any other post-punk 80s act everyone recall when writing reviews.
I can’t see much of PJ Harvey in their music as well. Even because [PJ fan mode: on] when you name PJ Harvey you have to specify which period of PJ career you are referring [PJ fan mode: off].

If I really have to base my impression to something happened in the music scene in the past, the hooks recalling Peter Hook when he was friend with Joy Division is the first thing to come to mind. Naturally the bass comes out of the mixer louder than the rest of the band. The biggest praise to their music goes to, Gemma Thompson, on guitar. She has a neat recognizable style made of crushing chords coming out of nowhere to displace the people listening and place the songs in a contest which justifies the buzz.

On top of this, Beth Jehnny is the undisputed frontwoman. As often happen when a band singer doesn’t play any instrument, she grabs the attention. Magnetically. All the eyes are on her despite the light engineer does a great job on spotting the rest of the band when they are central to the song. Beth Jehnny recall Ian Curtis at his most flipped the way she moves, which is not a dance, not yet.

Last, I may be the only one to see this, the chorus of Husbands reminds me the chorus of Patti Smith’s Horses, same way to sing the “h” of Husbands as Patty sings the “h” of Horses. The repeated word release from the anxiety of the previous verses a feeling of liberation that emerges when the song evolves and submerge the 1000+ people aware to have been part of one of those I-was-there show of 2013.

“Whoa, I woke up and I saw the face of a guy
I don’t know who he was, he had no eyes

His presence made me feel elated
His presence made me feel, all elated oh, oh

It’s on the final hour, it’s on the final hour
Of myself, of myself

God I wanna get rid of it
God I wanna get, get rid of it, yeah, yeah
Get rid of it

My house, my bed, my husbands,
Husbands, husbands, husbands, husbands
Husbands, husbands, husbands, husbands
Husbands, husbands, husbands, husbands
Husbands, husbands, husbands, husbands”

Savages, according to setlist.fm played 13 songs most of which I expect to be part of the forthcoming album. All it has to happen now is to get it out and play, play and play it again live till the day it will sound memorable. That day isn’t that far.

Savages quick rise is catching up online, follow them at [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

Music photographers usually stand in the pit between the stage, and the barrier that separates the artist from the first row fans. We are standing there with the security guys before the show and, differently from the security, we leave the place after the first three songs of the show. Most of you reading this blog, either because you are a concert photographer or because I said it million times, know this.

What I never told, is what sort of relationship we engage with those waiting fans. I’ll start here a new chapter “in the photo pit” talking about fans types. Hundreds and hundreds of concerts often gives me a good experience of what to expect in the pit and which Disciples I am going to meet.

Tonight I didn’t know what to expect with Savages, to be fair. All girls band gather adoring boys and girls emulating their idols to compete with the band and be hope to be adored by those boys . Pust punk bands tend to gather nostalgics of the 70-80s grrrriott heydays. Bands hyped by the blogosphere gather hipsters, IT students and retro vintage lomo photographers.

Savages are these three things together and gathered a bit of everything but on the front there was a concentration of angry middle age men fuelled on testosterone and beer and covered in tattoos.
Since we entered the pit, they have been insulting me and other photographers for standing in the way repetitively telling us to fuck off. I am sympathetic. To explain that we are there for 10 minutes or that the stage of the Electric Ballroom is high enough they will see everything doesn’t really help. Defensive response in this situations gives them the food for mind they need to get more energy for their anger. The only way is to ignore them, do your job, walk off and let them enjoy the gig.

The most interesting bit of the (very short) discussion wasn’t about the swearing. Was about the fans philosophy of ownership. The two more agitated standing there kept saying that “We have been following this band for months and months when you didn’t even know they exist”. They don’t claim to be there standing and waiting for a long time, or that we arrive to the front the last minute with no efforts. No. They claim ownership. They don’t want media to record and spread what they perceive as their lovers.
This is a key passage of the book I will never stop praising, Empire of Dirt, which analyses the attitude of people towards British English Scene from an anthropologist’s point of view.

A key passage discusses the way the fan feels betrayed when an artist he has discovered began to be appreciated by a big public. They first claim ownership, then will leave the band accusing it of screwing the original feelings. It follows the same emotions of leaving your girlfriend because you feel betrayed.
Have you ever heard a friend saying “I loved them at the beginning, now I don’t follow them anymore.” Yes? That! As a dropped boyfriend, they are very angry, in principle with the band (but that doesn’t arrive to the conscious), then with anyone else they consider guilty of screwing a relationship that only lives in their fantasy. At the end of the gig you’ll find them queuing at the merch stand for a chat and an autograph.

As a music photographer, be ready to be insulted by some of these people. It’s part of the game.

It took me three attempts in about 4 years to get to cover a Frightened Rabbit concert.
I love this band, surely one of my favourite bands of recent times.
Because of their music, because of their songwriting, because of their Glaswegian accent which I struggle to get but I love the way it sounds.

Frightened Rabbit came out with perfect timing with Fat Cat records peak. Better put, Fat Cat records at the end of the ‘noughties’ (I hate this too, I know) signed the best bands of an emerging Scottish scene of which Frightened Rabbit was probably the pearl.
More balanced than Twilight Sad, less pretentious than Glasvegas, more skilled than We Were Promised Jetpacks, Frightened Rabbit have the merit to not record a weak song or a filler, ever. They’re not here for the hit, which paradoxically gave them a few, but for the content. Pure quality.

Scott Hutchison is the leader and the mind behind the project. The name is singular. Scott mother gave that nick to him because of his shyness. It fits the emotional and personal verses he sings.

There’s more than lyrics. Born in Glasgow, nourished with northern post-rock and whiskey fuelled songwriting, Frightened Rabbit are as if Arab Strap met Sigur Ros on a recording studio derived out of an abandoned distillery in the highlands. Which is not that far from what truly happened.

I discovered them when the second album came out, back in 2008. The Midnight Organ Fight followed a debut that, despite a great title – Sing the Greys – didn’t reach my ears. Unfortunately I couldn’t make any date of that tour.

Within The Midnight Organ Fight there is a song, Keep Yourself Warm, whose direct lyrics are like an uppercut if you stumble upon them at the right (or wrong) moment of your life.

“My hole, I’ll get my hole, I’ll get my hole
Get my hole, get my hole and I’ll find out more.
It’s a choo-choo train, a rocket launch
If we have a hormone race
i’m bound to finish first.

Can you see in the dark?
Can you see the look on your face?
The flashing white light’s been turned off,
You don’t know who’s in your bed.

It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm.
Do you really think for a fuck at half-speed you’ll find your love in a hole?

Oh, you won’t find love in a, Won’t find love in a hole.
It takes more than fucking someone to keep yourself warm.

I’m drunk, I’m drunk
And you’re probably on pills
If we’ve both got the same diseases
It’s irrelevant girl
And the room fills with steam
Oh, evaporates disappears
My point of entry is the same way
That I leave

Can you see in the dark?
Can you see the look on your face?
The flashing white light’s been turned off
You don’t know know who’s in your bed.

It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm.
Do you really think for a fuck at half-speed you’ll find your love in a hole?

But, you won’t find love in a, won’t find love in a hole.
It takes more than fucking someone to keep yourself warm.

You won’t find love in a, won’t find love in a hole.
It takes more than fucking someone to keep yourself SEE in the dark!
Can you see the look in your face?
The flashing white light’s been turned off
You don’t know know who’s in your bed.

It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm
Do you really think for a fuck at half-speed you’ll find your love in a hole?”

The second time I tried to catch them live was when their third album was released. The Winter of Mixed Drinks is an even more beautiful collection of songs than the previous. Same attention to lyrics, something rare in UK these days, and a matured sound. They brought vintage cheddar and sweet grapes to go with the whisky.

This time I had a photopass sorted for their Cambridge date at the Soul Tree about 2 years ago but, again, I was in bed with a temperature trying to match 40 C. Depressingly, second miss.

…and another song shines out of the collection. Swim Until You Can’t See Land. This:

We salute at the threshold of the North Sea in my mind
And a nod to the boredom that drove me here to face the tide and swim.

I swim. Oh, swim.

Dip a toe in the ocean. Oh how it hardens and it numbs.
The rest of me is a version of man, built to collapse into crumbs.
And if I hadn’t come down to the coast to disappear
I may have died in a land-slide of rocks and hopes and fears.

So swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land
Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land
Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?

Up to my knees now, do I wade? Do I dive?
The sea has seen my like before though it’s my first and perhaps last time.
Let’s call me a baptist, call this the drowning of the past.
She’s there on the shoreline throwing stones at my back.

So swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land
Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land
Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?

Now the water’s taller than me and the land is a marker line
All I am is a body adrift in water, salt and sky.

So swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land
Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land.
Swim until you can’t see land
Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?

I was a bit worried when I read the news that Frightened Rabbit left Fat Cat to sign with a major, Atlantic Records.
They have a cult following in the USA and someone at the label must have convinced them. My worry it isn’t cliché, there is no need to mention Glasvegas again (I did) to show an example of a band that, signed by a major, gets caught in the dream of mega-success and forgets its original soul messing it all up.

If this is due to labels’ pressure, usually denied by the musicians to be confirmed only the day they get dropped, or not, it is something I will not investigate here.

Frightened Rabbit fourth album came out at the beginning of February 2013. It follows an EP which was their first Atlantic release, State Hospital, containing a handful of songs of which the title song and the closing, Wedding Gloves with a Adrian Moffat (from Arab Strap, dicto) cameo, stood out.

The arrive of Pedestrian Verse, in February 2013, terminated my worries. With a title picked from one of the verses of State Hospital and the EP song re-offered on the LP, they kept a bond with the past but managed to find the advantage of a richer production.
Without concession to their style, still intimate and touched by a beautiful songwriting, the band revamps the music. They cleverly avoided to go orchestral, Arcade Fire is just a little flame nowadays, the songs shine out in their substance. Contrary to an accepted trend, these are not songs that need the volume to be set to 10 to be appreciated, let Scott whisper his lyrics quietly in your headphones.

The half back-flip conception, a state hospital birth
The most threadbare tall story the country’s ever heard
Brought home to breathe smoke in the arms of her mother
With a blunt kitchen knife
Who just lays in a submissive position
Beneath the national weight and the slow arc of a fist

Her heart beats like a breezeblock thrown down the stairs
Her blood is thicker than concrete, forced to be brave
She was born into a grave

And in the limp three years of bored schooling
She’s accustomed to hearing that she could never run far
A slipped disc in the spine of community
A bloody curse word made pedestrian verse
Spirits in graveyards and fingers in car parks
She cries in the high street just to be heard
A screaming anchor for nothing in particular
At the foot of the fuck of it
And dragging her heels in the dirt

Her heart beats like a breezeblock thrown down the stairs
Her blood is thicker than concrete, forced to be brave
She was born into a grave

The cheek of youth flashed red and turned gray
Now she lies on the pavement, she’s helped to her feet
All thighs, hair, and magpie handbags
Saturday’s uniform for the fuck me parade
Brought home to keep warm in the arms of a plumber
Who’s ruddy and balding
Who just needs a spine to dig into
A chest for the head, and a hand for the holding

Her heart beats like a breezeblock thrown down the stairs
Her blood is thicker than concrete, forced to be brave
She was, she was

Her heart beats like a breezeblock thrown down the stairs
Her skin is thicker than concrete, forced to be brave
She was, she was

A broken elevator anthem held between floors
But if blood is thicker than concrete, all is not lost
All is not lost, all is not lost
All is not lost, all is not lost

Frightened Rabbit could play their Junction setlist in your living room and still sound amazing. Not by coincidence they made an acoustic live album. What? Yes! It is titled Quietly Now! Published in the era when live albums are marketing nonsense with sales dropping everyday and money available only for the live shows.

When their embrace the audience with their sound the intimate magic, instead of vanishing, gets bigger.

Cambridge Junction concert is on Valentine Day which generates a peculiar mixed audience of loving couples and depressed singles.
The show starts slow but, by the end of the set, a mixture of excitement and tears are perceivable. Frightened Rabbit play a music many can sympathise with. The people around prove it can make love blossom as much as being cathartic to alleviate the pain of the ones who suffered the end of love.

Frightened Rabbit will tour extensively, monitor them on [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

There has been a long debate online this week about retouching and post-editing photojournalism. It followed the World Press Photo announcement of the contest who was given to a photo, clearly and heavily, manipulated in tones and levels in post-editing.

I always stood against spectacularisation of photography through the use of simple lightroom tricks, and I have been pointed by people saying that I retouch (sometimes quite heavily) some of my concert shots.
Indeed I do and I showed the differences in one example and another example.

I am not against balancing photo levels. I am not against a change in the tones. I am not a purist. I don’t believe in Gianni Berengo Gardin “True Photography”.

But I believe the intervention must be functional to the meaning of the image it cannot aim to make a dramatic shot look like a movie poster because movie posters sell.

Photojournalism (and I include live music into it, because this is the way I approach and photograph it) has an ethic responsibility, which is down to the photographer. It also has a social responsibility that is down to prizes as the World Press Photo. This kind of contests set the standard for the industry and from this week ahead photos manipulated as the winner will be an acceptable standard. Ten years ago it was not.

Sadly, the winner photographer rushed in the defensive, to explain that the light was there because of a lucky moment. Until it came out the original publication of the image that showed the light wasn’t there and was interpreted in a dramatic different way.
Where’s the problem? In the need of justify which automatically brings up a sense of guilty. To cut a long story short, personally I follow a very simple, ethic rule an Italian jornalist suggested to me.

“Retouch your images till the point you are not shy to tell they have been retouched.”

It is probably driven by the ‘Like’ generation, born in need of social (networks) recognition. It is easy to browse the internet, it is easy to get the general mood and it is easy, less risky and much simpler to feed the ‘trending’ mood with appropriate food instead of putting together a personal opinion. Lazy times of a lazy era.

Society moved from giving ideas to people (in the case of politicians) or opinions (in the case of journalists) towards a situation where the tactic has been U-turned.

The politician goes online, seeks what are people demands and puts those demands in a list of his or her electoral campaign promises.
The music reviewer (I’ll stuck to the topic of this blog) follows the right hashtag on Twitter, perceives the buzz around an artist or an album release, and writes the review appropriately. It will be succesful, it will be approved, it will get ‘likes’ and will be ‘retweeted’.

The latest and louder example is My Bloody Valentine first album in twenty(two) years. It came out on a saturday night. The most faithful fans in a generation rushed to listen to and instantly it looked it was ‘approved’. The whole internet sprang in excitement most reviewers waited for this sign and review the album accordingly.
It’s a safe mechanism. It fills the need of recognition of the reader because, especially today, we all want to be right, we all want to be able to say… “you see? I told you it was great”. The self-confidence thermometer goes up.

Some time ago I read that when we read books that offer a kind of help, from “raising your child” to “dealing with your weight”, we tend to agree with the ones telling us to do what we would have done anyway. On the contrary, we reject and criticize as bullshit all the ones that offer an alternative that it is less pleasing to our radicated opinion.

Does your baby love to suck a dummy? You’ll love the books saying dummy is the greatest invention since the wheel and reject the ones suggesting dummy are not doing good to the future of his teeth.

Back to music. The solution that reviewers, journos and editors would not tell you, is to ignore the reviews. Simple and not crazy at all.

If music criticism made perfect sense in a word where access to music was either a matter of getting to the record shop and spending money to buy a LP or to spend afternoons on the radio hoping your favourite station aired that song, since 2005 (yes, youtube did not exist before that year) you can listen to the music you need before and without reading a single word about it. Try.

All music is promptly available online, really everything. If the debate on the audio quality is open and well worth, the music is still there, free for everyone with a web access. Get your personal opinion.

What’s that irresistible urge to read someone’s opinion to know if an album is good or not instead or straight listen to the album and decide for yourself? I tell you, it’s fear. Fear to be different, fear to be left out of a community we feel to belong if we disagree.

The future of professional music criticism is as open as that of professional music photographers.
The horizon ahead is dark the increase of offer overwhelming the demand makes life hard. This is why journalists, newspapers, webzines have to be very careful before disappointing their public (which is their customer and the customer of their advs).

The safest way is to give readers the content they want to read. With easy access to the general opinion it’s straightforward. Call it the hashtag revolution.
The downward spiral I see is that music magazines and music journalists are becoming predictable and readers select the ones who will satisfy their opinions. Controversy is a rare luxury.

Too often I predict albums’ mark without listening a single note of the record, just knowing which webzine or paper.
If it is Scandinavian synth pop it’d be a great one to The Line Of Best Fit, if it is a Brooklyn Collective it would be Best New Music for Pitchfork, if it is electro beat it’s gonna be a Quietus pick.

And yes, when it comes to My Bloody Valentine it’s going to be awesome for the entire blogsphere, as much as the next Coldplay or Mumford and Sons would be slated regardless.

Dinosaur Jr don’t seem to care, which is one of the reasons why I care of them.
They lead and stormed the American college underground scene at the end of the eighties to come to the natural unpleasant end that generally followed as soon as their music got closer to mainstream. J Mascis broke up with Lou Barlow, they departed, the first kept the name, the second put together that great thing A.K.A. Sebadoh. You know the whole story.

Dinosaur Jr 1.0 happened to be in the second half of the 80s, 1985 to Bug, out in 1988.

Seventeen years.

Dinosaur Jr 2.0 reunited to the general surprise with the original J Mascis, Lou Barlow, Murph line up in 2005. I though it was a one off thing and I rushed to the Forum in London to see one of those early come back shows. I remember I brought my film camera (without having a photopass) and after an argument with the security guy that consider it too professional compared to the digitals around. (still the cameraphone was a unknown gadget) and confiscated my Contax. I enjoyed the gig and got the camera back with only a couple of frames. My camera got its revenge and shot Dinosaur Jr at Koko a couple of year after that.

I was very wrong. Since then Dinosaur Jr recorded a first new album, Beyond, then a second, Farm, and latest is last year I Bet On Sky. Three LPs in phase 1 now matched by three in phase 2.

As if 17 years (and 17 million bands and 17 million records) never passed, Dinosaurs’ world didn’t change. It’s still about layers of loud guitars, visceral bass lines and thundering drumming. J Mascis indulges in guitar solos and riffs as good as they have never been. One of the few guys in the circus that can solo without looking a wanker. Something considered “classic rock”. And Classic rock indeed it is, in the positive meaning of ‘classic’. Not old and out of time, but immortal and destined to stay.

My third (or fourth, can’t remember) Dinosaur Jr show since the reunion is at the Electric Ballroom. It follows the amazing solo album by J Mascis, Several Shades of Why, that peaked high in my list of best of 2011 albums.
Reinvigorated by that melodic and intimate experience, with Lou Barlow who had some time to play few Sebadoh dates, I Bet The Sky came out late last year. And it is a hell of a record.
It’s 100% Dinosaur Jr but it sounds plenty of ideas and in the end of great, fresch songs.

It has one of their best songs ever, Watch The Corner. It doesn’t happen often to find a memorable riff. If anything, I would have come to Camden Town just to listen to that song live. With the endless solo at the end it was worth all the journey.

There was more, though. Murph is in incredible form and Lou Barlow at his most cheerful peak. J Mascis guitar suck all is nerd’s ego which culminates wildly in a storming rendition of their famous cover of Cure‘s Just Like Heaven.
Mosh pit was wild as you’d expect. Many teenage surfcrowders followed the solos while the thirty something nostalgics built the right waves.

Dinosaur Jr are one of the very few bands that joined two generations of fans and managed to keep unite the reviewers. That is why they also are the only band I can think of to have recorded three good albums since the comeback.

This gives me and you plenty of chances to catch up with them again. Follow at: [website][facebook][twitter] and listen at [spotify]

Photo tip

One of the most iconic venues in London. Few steps away from Camden Town tube station, I can’t even recall how many gigs I covered at the Electric Ballroom.
By heart on my film days, No Age, Soulsavers or the very early days of The Horrors then more recently White Denim, Thurston Moore or the amazing and so much missed Girls, on digital.

It is roughly made of three main zones. One, just after the entrance, has a bar, a merchandise stand, an old flipper that I don’t think works anymore. There’s no view to the stage so it’s quiet during the show. The large rectangular area, wooden floored, has the stage at the end. A classy balcony with some red sofas and retro lights maintain a laid back attitude for the ones who go to gigs on a guest-list and don’t care as much about the music but to be noticed. They chat, network and drink during the show waiting for the aftershow party when they’ll go to the changing room to tell the band how great it was a gig they haven’t listened to a single song.

More relevant to concert photographers are the bits about the pit and the stage.
Yes, there is a pit. Get there early if it is busy to not fight to get through the crowd. There is also a ‘secret’ shortcut going up to the balcony then down past the bar, walk outside in the smoking area and then inside again. A bit of a maze, but it is useful to get out after the three songs if you need a fast edit and can’t stay for the whole show.

The stage is very high, one of the highest in London for a venue of this size. Not the best thing to photograph a band, which is usually very close to the edge. Most photos suffer of the tilted framing which is pretty much unavoidable unless you are a basketball player or you raise your arms and liveview. (If you do, please be sensitive to the other photographer and be careful your camera doesn’t get in the way).

Lights, I’ll never stop saying, lighting it is not a venue thing but a band’s demand. If you get to a place that is a bit bigger than a pub backroom any venue could lit the stage up. I managed to get some good shots here so I don’t complain. It is a pretty standard situation.

The security is generally friendly and will let you stay after the three songs slot with your photopass if you want to see the show.

This exxcluding the guy that, at this Dinosaur Jr gig, was in need to show his (only) power and pretended to stand at the centre of the stage. The only passage available (to about 12 photographers) to take some shots without the monitors in the way. Irritating, yet it’s concert photographer’s life. To complain is useless, we got to make the best of harsh situations. We know, we always do.

It is a recipe made of marketing, greed, passion, revivalism and nostalgia.
Despite the bitterness of greed and the sourness of marketing, it still tastes good to many.

Once upon a time…

April 25, 2011 – MTV
Greg Dulli Still Doesn’t Miss the Afghan Whigs

“Greg Dulli’s a busy man these days. From French Quarter bar owner to record producer, along with anchoring the Twilight Singers and the Gutter Twins, he’s surely made the most of his post-’90s Afghan Whigs days. And we’re probably not going to see that Whigs reunion tour anytime soon. Dulli’s quite content with how he’s living, a Bukowski-esque come-on artist of the aging indie set, a dirty old man work-in-progress.”

Dulli answers in the article interview…

Do you ever miss playing music with the Afghan Whigs?
“I played with John in October and November. He got up and played four or five of the shows with me. I haven’t seen Rick in a couple of years. Whenever I play Minneapolis, Rick usually comes and jumps up on stage. If you’re asking if I miss playing in the Afghan Whigs, no. It was a great thing … I loved it, and I loved the guys and we had a great time. But we laid that sword down a long time ago.”

Fact. Reunions often start with an interview by the band leader saying that a comeback will not happen because he is involved in one or many other projects (never call them side especially when they are irrelevant!) and he’s busy. Add statements as “the past cannot be brought back to life” and bla bla.
This is the strategic bit. First part of a marketing move aiming to bring the band name back to the headlines and create expectations to old and young fans.

Silence follows while in the background there is a lot of management network to bring all the pieces together.
Once the band is up and running (but the news not yet disclosed) there are some sessions to rehearse. The old tunes need to be revamped and ready for the road, again.

Second phase.
The Press release (including a plea “keep confidential… not to be disclosed before 8:30am GMT…” )
December 7, 2011. ATP Press Release
“On Sunday 27th May 2012 Alexandra Palace will host the first show in 13 years from Cincinnati’s rock legends THE AFGHAN WHIGS.”

Viral consequence: All newspapers and music sites in the world, rebounce the press release creating a wave of expectation.
Now sit and wait a few days for the news to get as far as possible and then release the tickets to maximize the sales.

Third phase.
A couple of months before this gig, and less than a year after the MTV interview, Greg Dulli says the opposite. Coherence always lose against big cheques.

March, 9. 2012 – Rolling Stones
Greg Dulli Rediscovers Afghan Whigs

“…Now the reunion that Whigs devotees thought would never come has arrived. Dulli, John Curley and Rick McCollum will reunite for several shows this year after 13 years, and steadfast Dulli refusals. “The planets aligned, and that’s really the only way I can describe it,” he says. “Everything that had happened, John and I playing together, me spending the day with Rick McCollum in Minneapolis last May and then speaking to Barry [Hogan], those were the three variables.”

Timing. It’s essential. What the people wants, who else on our field is going to reunite. We’re in and around Seattle/Sub Pop late eighties.
With an historical cycle of 20-25 years, these 10′s decade is to launch the 90s revival. Nirvana and Alice in Chain can’t reunite for obvious reasons, (everyone have seen the embarassing approach of Macca with Grohl and Novoselic). Pearl Jam never split hence aren’t sexy enough.
There are not many candidates. The Afghan Whigs moment is perfect.

The Cincinnati band is cooler for an ATP audience than Soundgarden who, of course, reunited too with the same mechanism but it was up to the classy and elegant Dulli & Co. ensemble to bring guitars and grunge years back to the UK stage. Cornell narcissism fitted better with USA grandeur.

After all, the Afghan Whigs most successful album Gentlemen, was a piece of beauty balancing between the flannel shirts music of the age and the love for soul of Greg Dulli. Those anthemic songs (which I witnessed at the time they came out, AD 1993) asked to be listened by the next generation.

It’s about money, for sure, but it’s about educating the masses, too. Young hordes who don’t know Dinosaur Jr but know Yuck need to be informed. When after the three songs for the photos I joined the audience and I saw music journalist Simon Price’s unmissable silhouette enjoying the show I was curious to read his review. That came out on the Indepenent on Sunday and summarizes what I wouldn’t be as good at writing.

For the records. Dulli was in great form for this comeback show (they also played a date in NYC screwing the world premiere), his voice stood out and he pleased a crowd coming from all over Europe and beyond playing the hits. Despite the Afghan Whigs were put on the line-up after Guided By Voices cancelled their appearance, Ally Pally audience was in good mood and enjoyed the show.

The band has expanded in the decades, with a violin and celloist added to the original line-up to give those songs a fuller sound but those guitar lines to go with anthemic songs are here to stay.

Just when I was planning to go home, after three exhausting days of concerts and photography, the encore delivered a couple of gems. A new song, See and Don’t See and the cover of Frank Ocean’s Lovecrimes.

Both have been released on their website as free download.
Apparently there are no plans to record more new material.

The reunion tour, that spanned a good part of the world is over now and Dulli is vague on the future of the band.

Afghan Whigs seems to have enjoyed it and now it’s the quiet phase where market analysis try to understand if it is the second time to call it a day (Pulp), or record an album (Soundgarden) or keep touring for another year (Stone Roses).

The Afghan Whigs are on on the web so keep monitoring this for more news [official site][facebook][twitter]…
…or listen to the goodie oldie on [spotify]

Photo tip

I had an open issue with Greg Dulli since 2009. Not that he knows, but when I was cleared to see his Duo project with Mark Lanegan, The Gutter Twins at a intimate Union Chapel show, I found this photo (above) on the church door.

It wasn’t God but still an unexpected vision, especially after being approved and reconfirmed for a photopass. In the end it turned out being one of my funniest post on this blog and a quite nice show, so I don’t regret that journey down to London.

Alexandra Palace is a different story.
If the Union Chapel is all about seating in a cold church drinking hot tea watching a band playing from the altar, the massive Alexandra Palace has a different presence.

Despite the ATP I’ll Be Your Mirror festival, apart from Slayer performance on the Friday didn’t happen in the Great Hall but in the West Hall, the site preserves its dignity and adds a feeling of cosiness that helps seminal and underground bands to feel closer to their audences. And the acoustic is much better.

The dark curtains of the Afghan Whigs stage made it a completely different set from the rest of the festival. Of my photos, several being used by Entec the company providing the lighting for a case study to show their production, they didn’t pick any of the Afghan Whigs concert.

Blue, green and red lights on the dark background. Nice clear spotlight for Dulli and the other elegant band members made this an interesting one to cover.
I tried to portray a classic “indie” band body language with a touch of colourful tones coming from the spotlights.

The West Hall stage is quite high and very wide, which makes it difficult to frame the whole of a band unless using very wide lens and find and adapting a dramatic perspective.

On the good side the pit is spacious and there’s plenty of room to move along even with another dozen of photographers, with is the average at this sort of festivals.

With Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Grizzly Bear just announced to curate the 2013 event, and missing from my archive, I am already looking forward to getting back in and cover IBYM for the third year running.

Stay tuned for more concert action from Ally Pally… and me… and

!!Tearsheet!!

A bit of proud self-advertising. It doesn’t happen often.
VeriLive magazine is based in Melbourne, Australia, and features me as “Snap photographer” for issue 12 out this week worldwide.
Verilive is a B&W fine art music photography magazine which includes the best of concert photography and also a 7″ collectable vinyl with each issue.

I have a B&W portfolio of 5 over 8 pages. There are 3 double spreads and two full pages. They span my “career” from Morphine to Melt Banana, with more pictures from Broken Social Scene, Patti Smith and Dirty Three’s Warren Ellis.

You can have a look at the web or get a copy here.

This left me quite disappointed, I liked the few of their concerts I saw and I believe they had, on their behalf, an image that many indie-bands would kill for. It was still a young and premature project but with a discrete potential to break through into the art-rock meagre scene.

I didn’t want these photos to go missing, maybe there are fans who would enjoy them.
Archived the idea of waiting for the next show, I get this sad chance to use them here. It’s now or never, ain’t it?

Writing about S.C.U.M. also proved interesting to know more about a band that, in addition to the cool image, had a lot to be inspired from. And beyond the band sources of inspiration, I also discovered a lot about the London indie music scene, such a small world.

First discovery.
Out of the several meanings of the English word: scum I didn’t know the slang option in 4.

1. A filmy layer of extraneous or impure matter that forms on or rises to the surface of a liquid or body of water.
2. The refuse or dross of molten metals.
3. Refuse or worthless matter.
4. Slang One, such as a person or an element of society, that is regarded as despicable or worthless

Which is explained in depth in the Urban Dictionary

SCUM Possibly the worst word you can have your name associated with.

It is hard to define the word, but it is basically used to describe someone so disgraceful that they are seen as the lowest form of life. “Worthlessness”, “waste of skin”, “dirt”. “Nothing”. Far worse than most other insults, where the victim is often just referred to as genitalia.

The fact that “scum” is a non-swear, and seen as perfectly acceptable English, makes it even more demeaning and offensive. If you are condemned as a “cunt” or a “fucktard”, then you are simply being attacked with cliché profanity, used spontaneously and with no particular venom or thought. “Scum”, however, is usually only used in exclusive conditions where it is the only word for the job, and makes the victim feel like the lowest of the low.

All of this may be quite offensive for a human being, but it sounds quite captivating as a band’s name.

Although S.C.U.M. (the band) name refers to something more literate than the meaning of the word. Second discovery.
Valerie Solanas, wrote in the 60s a radical feminist manifesto called, dicto, The SCUM Manifesto. Within she argued that “men have ruined the world and women should overthrow society and eliminate the male sex.” (Wiki)

It was first published in 1967 and opened with this paragraph: “Life” in this “society” being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of “society” being at all relevant to women, there remains to civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females only to overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and eliminate the male sex.”

If you got curious as me, there is a full PDF here

I am going off topic but I googled Valerie Solanas because I had the feeling I read her name somewhere. Third discovery. In fact she is the woman that attempted to murder Andy Warhol at the Factory. A moment that changed the style of the Factory, hence the art and music scene of New York in the 60s.

Plenty to write songs about.
The name of ‘our’ S.C.U.M. is, of course, ironic. It was chosen because the band (originally) was an all-male group. Formed in South London by five friends.
Just look at them and there is much more of Andy Warhol into their look that of radical feminism wanting to kill him. Which adds layers of creative confusion that increases the appeal of this fivesome.

The focal point of S.C.U.M. surely was Thomas Cohen, a magnetic singer. It’s rare to have singers that don’t play (and hide their insecurity) behind an instrument.
He reminded me of a young Nick Cave. For the look, for the stage attitude, the body language and someway the voice too. He had hints of David Bowie dandy look, a feminine, clean, angelic face.

Fourth discovery. About a year since I had this impression, Mute records, the label of Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds, signed the band.

I saw S.C.U.M. live at least three times… going by heart… first at 1234 festival 2010, then at the ATP I’ll Be Your Mirror curated by Portishead 2011 and in the end at a defunct Cambridge pub, the Haymakers, in their own gig some months after the ATP.

S.C.U.M. toured their debut Again into Eyes. Mute Records boosted a high-class production signed by Ken and Jolyon Thomas, already at the court of David Bowie in the past. That’s one more to link with Andy Warhol.

Together with The Horrors and few bands (Toy), S.C.U.M. are the point of reference for Art-Rockers this decade. Due to the poorness of an art-rock, it’s a pity they won’t be feeding it in the future.

They have some close relationship. Fifth discovery. Huw Webb, the bassist of S.C.U.M., is the brother of Rhys Webb, the bassist of The Horrors.

Unless you have seen S.C.U.M. very early days at the all-males times, you have noticed the drummer. Melissa Rigby, long straight blond hair framing a catchy mysterious gaze. She is a constant presence in many London bands. She plays in the all-girls band Novella, toured with The Kills and recently recorded with Rachel Zeffira an emerging Canadian soprano.

Wikepedia also link of her involvement with Toy but I didn’t managed to get where, when and how.
As I didn’t know that Toy are 3/4 of the now forgotten Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong. When I reviewed them back in 2008, I was insulted by some fans. History talks. Someone would remember J&JJJ for being probably the only band to be signed, to be praised by BBC and NME, to release a (flop) single and to have their debut withdrawn at last minute after being pressed and distributed to reviewers. Toy member did good to hide this past and keep the fresher ideas for their new band.

Back to S.C.U.M., there is more there is the gossip. Not a discovery this.
Thomas Cohen, the singer had a tumultuous year. At the end of 2011 he announced the engagement with (the tabloids star) Peaches Geldof (yes, the daughter of Bob Geldof). In January she announced to be pregnant. In April 2012 their first son was born. In September last year they got married.

All of this could have had a consequence on the band. It ultimately had.

S.C.U.M. will be missed. S.C.U.M. will not be missed. Up to you. There will be more band to follow on this path, more talented art-rockers, more gossip, more hipster, more signing… more… but if you want to have a look at live photos, liveon35mm at your service! Online you can still find old stuff here:
[myspace][facebook][twitter]
Listen to the Album on [spotify].

Photo

Photo tip

Compared to the daylight show at festivals, despite the ATP was indoor and dark-ish, the show at the Haymakers was more interesting photography-wise. The light engineer, overcame the usual pub darkness with a couple of spotlights in the front. One pointed at the singer and the other at the bass drum with the band name.

This situation can deliver good images, assuming you know how to handle the light and avoid to burn the most lit areas.
There are different ways to do this. The most used is probably spot-metering. What you want to do is to set the camera to spot and point your exposure meter where there is more light. Be aware, It’s better if it is not the brightest spot, so to avoid underexposure.

It works but it is not my favourite. Mainly because I rarely centre the subject and the subject moves. To apply it correctly I have to point focus, spot-meter, block AF/AS, and reframe. I am not fast enough with this sequence of buttons even if Nikon’s pro cameras are quite well suited to do it.

I prefer to leave the exposure in the usual matrix, which works quite well on modern cameras and use the exposure compensation setting. Somewhere between -1 and -2 EV will do.

With a couple of checks on the screen it’s easy. If you are in a situation, as this one, where the lights don’t change dramatically throughout the show, it’s a good procedure to set the camera in full manual mode ignore the exposure meter indication altogether and set it to the pair of aperture/shutter (and ISO) that worked.

One advantage of the spotlights are shadows. Keep an eye on it, if the background is neutral you may be able to come up with an interesting photo of you subject foreground and his/her shadow in the background.

The disadvantage is that, especially if you go for the spot-metering on the bright part, the rest of the stage would be very dark and portraiting the rest of the band, challenging.
Concert photography is tricky anyway so, let’s face it, you have to love darkness and challenges.

2012 has been my Burmese year, and I closed it with Mission of Burma.
2013 will be a Japanese year, bear with me, I start it with a Japanese band: Melt Banana.

Melt Banana were invited in December last year, by Shellac, to play for their Nightmare Before Christmas ATP festival at Camber Sands in UK. I was there just for one day, so I cannot comment on the rest of the event, but there are no doubts they played the best set of that (Satur)day.

To a non expert as I am is difficult to differentiate Melt Banana by the large number of Japanese bands experimenting in the noise rock. Melt Banana surely were among the first to join the loud party and they still rock the hell out of it.
A project started in 1992, produced the first album in 1994. This trio has been frequenting the underground stages for two decades. Since then they have produced at least 9 studio album plus an endless series of releases well summarised here.

Japan from an European perspective seems a difficult-to-understand country. That is why I want to go and “touch it” with my full set of senses and a couple of cameras.

It looks a country where the extremes touches. A millenary tradition and hi-tech futurism cohabit. What I find ‘different’ is where the missing in the middle has gone. Extremes are everywhere but you can navigate between them through a comfortable zone. I can’t see, from overhere, where that zone is.
I see the most contemporary architecture merging in the most traditional gardens, the simplest minimalist food eaten with sophisticated teas whose leaves are kept in the shadow before harvesting.

Music wise, Japan, doesn’t appear so different to the same inexperienced European eye I am. Japanese music gathers at the extremes.
In rock they love everything that is beyond. Either it is noise, grindcore, hardcore, speed metal or John Zorn.
Otherwise they are big lovers of classical music and 70s progressive rock which is nothing else than its modern commercial branch.
I know it’s a reductive and ridicule analysis, that’s why I want to have more insights.

Century old traditions, bonsai, ikebana, zen gardens and capsule hotel with every other possible gadget fit in two cubic metres.

It’s either black or white. Where’s the grey in Japan? I want to visit the fields, the farms, the markets, the streets to understand those people.
And to understand its music scene. And everything else.

I’ve seen several Japanese artists live in the years, legends as Keiji Haino, post-rockers Mono, psychedelic drones as the amazing Boris and English based bands as Bo Ningen.
This was my first time with Melt Banana. I have not listened to much beyond the cover of the Italian classic “Tintarella di Luna”, played at a speed ten times faster than the original, and some stuff I YouTubed before the concert. I don’t find easy to listen to grindcore from the record.

Yasuko Onuki is the singer. A girl with one of the highest pitch voices I have ever heard. You know those voices that can break wine glasses. I read she sings in English, but I challenge everyone to understand what she says.
She writes the lyrics too, so. Yasuko also manipulates some sort of devices to control the beats, some of the effects and the sampled bases.

The guitarist is Ichiro Agata, the other member who founded the band back in the nineties. Ichiro and Yasuko may be the most common Japanese names, to me sound as a couple of robots fighting to save the world in the cartoons I used to watch on TV as a child.

They’re not robots at all, but look close on stage. Ichiro plays guitar with a multi effected technique that makes it sound everything but a guitar. This while he runs all over the stage in the same neurotic way Melt Banana music is perceived.

He also wears a surgical mask on stage.
He isn’t an oddity. I browses for street photos of Japanese towns and came across many people walking with that masks covering their faces.
It’s another curiosity of Japanese costumes. Why some people wears those masks?

To my old world it was an oddity of the late Michael Jackson due to his hypochondria and persecutory beliefs. I struggle to believe so many Japanese undergo the same kind of paranoia to the point of wandering the streets with a surgical mask on! Is that really fear of germs? Is that fashion? Has anyone asked them if they believe who does not has those masks on is going to stay in bed with serious infections at a certain point? I need to go and see.

Melt Banana are supposed to be a trio. There should be a bassist on stage. I haven’t seen him and he doesn’t appear in any of my photos. Where Rika Hamamoto was? Hidden onstage somewhere? Or left in Japan? You tell me.

The music is what it says on the tin. Fast noise rock provided by the guitarist with a yelping singer. A beat sampled out of a laptop. Relentless, loud, somewhat repetitive and surely addictive.
The first 10 minutes are intolerable and several leaves the packed hall. Then while you start to adapt your ears and your eyes to the mayhem happening in front of you, the show shifts into a more “comfortable” experience that even turn into a hypnotising one.
It’s not because the music changes. It’s not they warm up and play better. If they didn’t stop every so often you’d struggle to define when one piece finishes and a new one begins.
It’s a physical adaptation to the happening. You get accustomed to the roaring.

Within half hour Melt Banana hyper energetic set drives the audience to the border of insanity. The most spectacular crowd surfing I have ever assisted materialise in front of the stage. People floats over heads, hundreds of arms push them around the venue before they land because of exhaustion. In time for another one to restart.

I am next to Todd Trainer, Shellac’s drummer (and his lovely girlfriend) watching this. I can see through their eyes how amazing this is looking.
Surely not the record you want to put on your CD player to chill out, Melt Banana live show is a relaxing way to face your daily stress, not with a relaxing massage, but with an overdose of hysteric music that helps your body to eliminate all your toxins.
If Japan remains the land of extremes. Melt Banana are an essential example of this.

With a website still hosted on Geocities (probably the first free web space provider ever, I had some space there back in mid 90s) they’re on the web here: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

Crowd surfing or body surfing is one of the funniest activity at music concerts (for the ones doing it more than the ones supporting them, maybe). Despite venues’ security tries to forbid it with threatening signs, for safety reason (I never heard of someone hurt because of this), they never managed to stop it whenever a show becomes lively and the “mosh pit” bouncy.

I was going to tell how to photograph it, then I realised I already, did about 4 years ago along with a Courteneers’ forgotten post. Forgotten because of Courteneers of course. I remember to be attacked by fans insulting me because I didn’t love the band… oh well. Courteneers, go guess. Hey Hey, My My.

To find another concert photography tip after 200 or so isn’t easy (anything you want to know?).
At that time I didn’t have many photos to go along with that tip. There are many more readers of liveon35mm today than in 2008. I am more experienced so, as my latin ancestors used to say, repetita iuvant. I’ll write about this again.

To photograph crowd surfers has technical issues.
It is not difficult but rarely can be done from the pit while shooting the band. Because the surfer are behind you and they are in the dark. Exceptions are open air daylight concerts and bands member joining the surfing. The light technician will follow it with a spot.

If you are in a small/medium venue and the security let you photograph from the back after the three songs in the pit, that is the ideal situation. Shoot the band first, then move back and do the surfers.
Crowd surfing is also unlikely to happen in the first three songs of a gig and concentrates mostly towards the end and during the hits.

Once you are in the back, preferably in a slightly higher position than the crowd (unless you are 2 meters tall) you canstart.
At this ATP the small stage was perfect in size and the photographers were allowed to stand at mixer desk. It was about 50-70 cm elevated from the rest and gave the perfect angle to photograph with a 70-200mm telephoto lens.

From the back, the band will be the background of your photograph. I will never stress enough how essential is the background and the composition in concert photos. In this situation it is not a background anymore, it is complementary to the success of the image because it’s the band there.

The crowd surfer is likely to be a black silhouette, rarely there is light on them. When dealing with silhouettes, with no details in the subject but a black spot, what makes the picture is the shape. It has to be recognizable and in a natural pleasing (or bizarre) pose. Be ready, shoot fast and discard anything that is confusing and not discernible in post-edit.

Beware, a crowd surfer is not up for a long time. From the moment they appear to the moment they disappear among the crowd or are rescued by the security, it’s a matter of few seconds, rarely more.

If you happen to be in a venue that has balconies (as Koko in London for example) there is a great perspective up there on the side.
If it also happen that the artist itself jumps on the crowd and begins to surf crowd is the moment you don’t want to have the wrong lens on, as it happened to me at Koko for Amanda Palmer.

2012 has been my Burmese year. No doubt about that. I finally managed to travel to Burma and covered the first free elections the regime allowed. Since I came back I worked at the photographs from that experience.
What came out of it have been a couple of Exhibitions in UK, at Foto8 Summershow and (right now till March 2013) one at The Royal Shakespeare Company, A World Elsewhere, in Stratford Upon Avon.
I got one published on the major Italian newspaper and, what I am most proud, I self-published a book, From Fear to Euphoria, that covers in 7 chapters 7 different aspects of Burmese life in the most important year the country has seen since the second world war. Book also got a prestigious “staff pick” from Blurb’s team and if you’re interest goes beyond music, you can preview in full (and even buy) here.

When I got the offer to photograph Mission Of Burma showcasing their new album, Unsound, and their “essential” double CD, Learn How, I wouldn’t want to miss it.

Let’s be clear. Mission of Burma don’t have anything in common with Burma, the country. There’s not link in their members, in their music or everywhere else. The legend wants (read: wiki reports) that “They took their name from a “Mission of Burma” plaque Conley saw on a New York City diplomatic building; he thought the phrase had a “sort of murky and disturbing” quality.”
Clint Conley is the bassist of this trio with Roger Miller on guitar and Peter Prescott on Drums. Martin Swope was part of the line-up as tape manipulator/sound engineer, which is basically what made them one of the most interesting post-punk bands to emerge from the east coast.

Still, I like these coincidences.

Mission of Burma probably are the ultimate example of the seminal band. They existed from 1979 to 1983 then, mainly due to Roger Miller tinnitus caused by the incredible volume of their live shows, they stopped.

What’s left of those early years is an EP, Signals, Calls, and Marches, and a pivotal album, Vs.

Both records have been praised as inspirational by a list of musicians which would fill a good half of any alternative rock encyclopaedia.
The band’s silence lasted for almost 30 years. In the meanwhile rock music evolved and, as any seminal band can claim, the endless list of admirers claiming they have been inspired by them has grown. From Sonic Youth to Nirvana, from REM to Pixies, From Fugazi to Guided by Voices.

It sounds one of my exaggerations but it is probably true to claim that rock music wouldn’t be as it is if Mission of Burma didn’t exist.

At the start of this millennium, in the era that saw the first wave of historical reunions, the rumour of Mission of Burma comeback began.
In 2002 it became official and first live shows in decades were scheduled. Martin Swope’s position was offered and taken by Bob Weston of Albini‘s Shellac. He took the same tape decks and started manipulating the sound produced on stage by the band, as in the good old times. Since then, the band has been much more productive than the early years. Three 3 albums, ONoffON (2004), The Obliterati (2006) and The Sound the Speed the Light (2009) were published along the obvious remasters of the first recordings.

Despite the continuous announcements of another hiatus, Mission of Burma are still around and they released the latest fatigue, Unsound, in July 2012 after leaving Matador.
They have been recently invited by Shellac to perform at the UK leg of Nightmare Before Christmas ATP. Unfortunately I was there for just one day, not their date.

I got to this Mission of Burma show, instead. My first time. It was at the hip Dalston venue Birthdays, North-East of London.
I was at this place for Jon Spencer Blues Explosion new album, Meat + Bone, showcase

It’s a cold rainy December tonight. I don’t really want to travel from Cambridge to East London but once I miraculously managed to be on the guestlist for this ultra-sold-out event, I know I would regret forever to miss it. I also know that it would make the perfect liveon35mm post to close my, Burma driven year, 2012.

Bob Weston, is somewhere hidden from my camera, tonight. I don’t see him. The guy that sits backstage throughout the show and opens the dances distributing free earplugs to the first rows, isn’t him. I have my professional plugs but many follow on to the advice until he runs out of them.

Despite what you may think reading this blog, I am not as much as it looks into loud music. This year has been exceptional, though. With Swans, Neurosis, Sunn O))), Anthrax, Motorhead, Mogwai, Blues Explosion, Slayer and more, I have never swallowed so many decibels in such a short time.

Clint Conley, Roger Miller, Peter Prescott and that fourth man are busy in front of me preparing the instruments for the show. Some glass panels are put around the drumkit (anyone knows what are they for?) which isn’t the best looking setting to photograph. Nevermind, it won’t be the main issue.

The main difference from most of other gigs I have been to, is the position of the guitar amplifiers, at the edge of the stage, ahead of the guitarist. A conceptual statement, Roger Miller will mostly play behind its amplis. Clint Conley adopt a more usual setting. I am in admiration of the super tore down instrument he plays.

Live concerts of Mission of Burma are renowned to be hit or misses. I don’t know what to expect, I heard something online but I bought my first CD, the “essential” new release, tonight from the merchandise desk.

When the gig started I have that feeling to be in front of “instant classic” music that you get only in front of legendary bands, regardless you know them. It’s not easy to explain, I remember it happening another time at a similar gig by Gang of Four. The hooks, the sound, the songs that I probably listened only a couple of times before, sounded as they were inside me forever. But the tape manipulation or whatever you want to call the distorted noise coming from somewhere, doing something to the sound and resending it through the speakers is special.

Roger Miller is on the coarse side, Coley bass is less adulterated. A praise goes to the drumming of Peter Prescot, despite I am ignorant on percussion technique, I have the feeling isn’t the easiest of jobs to drum behind this two guys, plus Bob Weston missing somewhere messing up all the sound.

If you try to figure three middle age men, going back to punk rock after a thirty years break, it’s hard to think at something vaguely as visceral or or remotely convincing as I testified.
Trust me, Mission of Burma live show didn’t do nothing else to be visceral, convincing and utterly brilliant.

Despite they may announce another split, all we know is they keep playing and reaching as many people as possible in the world and… maybe a day… in the country that gave them the name: Burma. There’s and emerging Punk scene there waiting.

Mission of Burma adapted to times and are on the web, here: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

phototip

On my evergrowing phototip index of my side, there’s a Rock Venues section that has been neglected for a while.
Point is that I have already reviewed most of London’s and Cambridge venues, this is where I am geographically based, and rarely I go to a new one.
Also, once you cover a lot of gigs you know that the quality of photography is also dependent on the quality of the lights. With experience you don’t only pick the bands, but also select the venue where they are playing.

Anyone shooting gigs in London knows that venues as Scala, KCLSU or Hoxton Bar and Grill rarely have a photo pit. Heaven and Electric Ballroom have very high stages. Brixton and Apollo have a three songs rule which doesn’t allow to stay to watch the show after the photos and the Union Chapel is a church where every click resound embarrassingly .

Birthdays is one I yet haven’t reviewed. Because it’s fairly new but it is gaining an important part of the music scene thanks to special events as this in recent times.
Located in Dalston, in the street where a Turkish community is struggling to resist the invasion of East London Hipsters with their cocktails bars.
The best way to get here is by Overground from Higbury and Islington. In the end is shorter than going to Hammersmith of Brixton if you monitor the less frequent trains’ times.

Upstair is a hip bar and restaurant, moustached waiters, hipster costumes. Downstair, next to the toilet, opens a relatively long, narrow and not too big room. The venue has a 250 only capacity.
That means that, if you are shooting a lively act, bigger than the place he chose, as Jon Spencer or Mission of Burma, you better bring light clothes, get at the door when it opens and charge your mobile because you are going to wait a lotwithout moving to lose your spot.

The stage is very low. Photography wise there’s no pit and the only option is the first row. The second is already not ideal and the third is impossible.
If you manage to gain the front you’re set to very close-up photography. So close you better be careful a guitar doesn’t smash your front lens. Keep the hood on.

Lightwise is dark, dramatically dark. Both my experiences, I have been forced to a lot of slow-shutter flash photography. The other option was blur and grain.
In this occasion I also converted the shots to B&W because the only lights were annoyingly red. Ceiling is low so bring a flash and bounce it up, you may be allowed to use it.

Lenswise bring your widest angle lens you have. This place it’s not for shy photographers. Beyond 50mm you will only frame the drummer. The 70-200mm is useless (and heavy), leave it at home. Consider that to change lens, in the chaos of a moshpit, isn’t easy. A zoom is better than a prime but has to be a fast zoom. This is heaven for 14-24mm or 16-35mm f2.8 glasses.

!!Happy 2013!!

This is it folks, thanks so much to follow this blog for such a long time, we’re entering the sixth year together, we survived social networks and economic crush.
I never thought this would have lasted so long. I am proud that, thanks to your support, I have built a gallery of 210 live bands monographies, posted here in words and images. I told you all my secrets franly, and there are almost 3000 photos that you can browse for free and get printed if you want any. Just give me a shout, or pick my favourite here.

Excited as ever to share more live music photography with you, stay with me, I’ll see you in 2013.

Happy Christmas and a wonderful New Year

Live on…
Valerio

If I struggled to write something about Motorhead (speed-metal?), and suffered to finish a post on Anthrax (thrash-metal?), to conclude I left this space for Neurosis (post-metal?). A band well beyond my writer capability. More than ever, consider this post just some words to separate a gallery of live shots.

Let’s start from the psychology (courtesy of Wikipedia)

“Neurosis is a class of functional mental disorders involving distress but neither delusions nor hallucinations, whereby behaviour is not outside socially acceptable norms. The term essentially describes an “invisible injury” and the resulting condition
…
Neurosis represents a variety of mental disorders in which emotional distress or unconscious conflict is expressed through various physical, physiological, and mental disturbances, which may include physical symptoms. The definitive symptom is anxieties.”

Carl Jung found his approach particularly fitting for people who are successfully adjusted by normal social standards, but who nevertheless have issues with the meaning of their life.
“I have frequently seen people become neurotic when they content themselves with inadequate or wrong answers to the questions of life.” (Jung, [1961] 1989:140)
“The majority of my patients consisted not of believers but of those who had lost their faith.” (Jung, [1961] 1989:140)
“[Contemporary man] is blind to the fact that, with all his rationality and efficiency, he is possessed by “powers” that are beyond his control. His gods and demons have not disappeared at all; they have merely got new names. They keep him on the run with restlessness, vague apprehensions, psychological complications, an insatiable need for pills, alcohol, tobacco, food – and, above all, a large array of neuroses.” (Jung, 1964:82)

I photographed Neurosis twice.
In 2010 they were invited by Godspeed You! Black Emperor to play a Minehead Night Before Christmas ATP festival.
In 2012 they have been invited by Shellac to play another Nightmare Before Christmas ATP festival. In Camber Sands.

Both times I had nightmares after the shows (and before Christmases) so for the position they had been paid, they delivered.
On the good side there is a double set of photos, two years apart, most of them never before seen outside my Hard Disk.
They are a mix of colourful, desaturated and B&W to overcome the blue darkness of a typical Neurosis’ light setting.

Formed in Oakland, California almost 30 years ago, with a debut album dated 1987, Pain of Mind, it’s a great title for a debut by a band called Neurosis. Nevertheless I didn’t know its existence till recent times and I bet very few did, especially in Rome at the end of the eighties.
The ten studio albums that followed reinforced Neurosis spaceship, that carried on travelling through the heavy metal galaxy.

The breakthrough (read I heard of Neurosis for the first time, despite still didn’t attempt a listen) was in 1999 when Steve Albini recorded Times of Grave. He will be behind the mixer for five more Neurosis’ albums until the latest, Honor Found in Decay, out this year.

The evolutions of metal music mimics a space odyssey towards outer, unknown spaces (of the mind).
Do this experiment. Start from, say, Black Sabbath then listen to a hour or so of metal, progressing through the years and the key band, to arrive to the latest most extreme. Once there, go back to a song by Ozzy and the Sabbath. He would sound like an unplugged, acoustic band.
Differently from other rock genres, Heavy Metal function isn’t an up and down sinusoidal reflecting the mood of the times. Heavy Metal parabola mimics the trajectory of those missiles aiming to defeat the G-Force and point far.

I don’t know what faction of metal music Neurosis belong. Doom? Industrial? Post? I struggle with rock genres in general, it’s impossible to me to navigate metal subgenres.

That a concert by Neurosis is about to happen is easy to guess by the kind of people that gather around the stage.
They belong to a unique tribe, one of the many sub-tribes of metal music. As Motorhead, ACDC, or Slayer have. T-Shirts and accessories are full of symbols that all the devotees know very well and the rest of the world ignores, to their pleasure.

The gender ratio is highly disproportionate towards a male audience, as typically happens when on stage the sound transmit power, aggression, rage.

My organic chemistry professor at university, many years ago, taught a very wise approach to face the unknown. “When you find yourself in front of something that you don’t understand” he said, “don’t try to interpret it, limit to describe”. I always follow this suggestion.

Neurosis is a 5 member band. There are two guitarists, both tattooed and bearded in the classic heavy metal look that mirrors the disciples in the front. The bass player has the most uncool, yet interesting haircut, henna dyed. I saw something similar for the last time in a middle age man bathing in the Gange during the Kumbh Mela in Haridwar, India.
There’s a keyboardist, the latest addition to the line-up, and the big drummer responsible to keep the heaviness high throughout.

A Neurosis “song” (tune? piece? track? Composition?) is easily structured. It usually begins quietly and instrumentally, with a guitar riff or an arpeggio recalling a melody. It gives a sensation of easiness that is cleverly there to increase the consequent feeling of displacement that arrives when the band U-turns exploding in an overdrive of guitars at un unbearable volume, accompanied by the scariest of growls provided by the ogre/singer. There to revive you memories of the fairy tales that used to scare you in your childhood.

There are some lyrics but I didn’t go beyond reading the first I found on google from Through Silver in Blood. They are enough, I still prefer Edgar Allan Poe.

Therapeutic to the band and the entire audience is to follow the rhythm of the music with the movement of the head, as if it is banging onto a wall in front.
“Headbangers” for a reason. I must admit it is quite addictive. I find impossible to stand in front of this music and not headbanging myself.
Scroll down, I’ll tell you more about this in the photo tip.

The violence of the set is not punitive the same way Swans, to cite a band that clearly influences them, is.
Michael Gira uses Swans’ music to mistreat and beat (yeah, kind of virtually) the audience for 3 hours taking the band along unexpected directions just to increase the unpredictability and the discomfort of an audience that, before the gig, believed to be mentally fine. The Swans’ audience will leave the venue to be disoriented for at least the following 48 hours.

Neurosis are much more predictable in the “song” structure. It is like they are aware of an audience that knows to not be perfectly fine and is after their music to relieve the anxiety deriving from some neurosis.
Where neurosis in medical term is a disorder, Neurosis in music term is the cure. 90 minutes of methodical, reproducible, brutal loops must be relieving for some class of anxieties as much as hours of speech therapy with a Jungian psychoanalyst.

It may be because it was both time at the end of an endless day of music at a Festival, or my defence mechanism refusing the therapy, I admit both times I couldn’t get to the end of a Neurosis show. Because I got bored.

If you want to try, there’s a set of links here to learn more about Neurosis and find when they tour next to you: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

Concert Photography is quite repetitive. After shooting a couple of hundreds bands (I’m three times that number now) I realised to have covered most of the concert situations.
I also start seeing most of (my) photos quite samey. Many photographers I know stop around this point and give-up live music for something different and potentially more remunerative.
I started questioning what could be done to push my style and to depict, not just another band, but the characteristic of the band I have in front of me.

Let’s remember there is no intervention by the photographer in a live concert, you got to survive with what you have. Everyone, from the band to the managers, from the light technicians to the security, know that photographers are there, yet no one works to help us.
Sometime they provide good lights and stage setting that complement the music, some other they are just there for the band. You never know in advanca, unless you browse youtube for some amatorial cellphones video to have and idea.

Headbanging is a classic features of heavy metal concerts. The heads of the band members, moves up and down in an undulatory movement following the beat. It is sustained by a precise pose, one leg ahead, one back, to support the energy (to not fall, basically). It is very easy to record on video, as this.

More complicate to do photographically… but…. doable.

How good are you at keeping your camera steady without hands shaking?

Set a very slow shutter, I tried few options between 1/4 and 1/30 of a second, and give it a try.
I noticed that the only thing that moves during headbanging is the musicians’ head. With a proper shutter time I thought it was possible to have a (reasonably) sharp figure coupled with a totally blurred head.

There’s also a plus, the longer exposure allows to stop down the aperture and use a lower ISO.

I have never been attracted to hard and heavy rock music in my life. Even in my teens I didn’t go beyond classic rockers as Led Zep or Deep Purple with few crossover exceptions as Living Colours, Primus or Rage Against The Machine. Never been a fan of any the New Wave of British Heavy Metal it took me a long time to realise NWOBHM wasn’t a swear word. Even less any genre down the iron path, as thrash or death or black. I had my extreme listenings but they touched other extremes as hardcore, grindcore and some avant-garde.

Now that I am approaching my teenage for the third time, I feel a bit grown up to start head-banging, tattooing and wearing an upside down cross as a necklace.

On the contrary, I have always been interested to the iconography of metal music, especially in the most radicals of its sub-genres.

Yes, I know. Metal is a religion, either you have it or not, Metal is god or God’s of Metal… whatever. Headbangers are going to hate me, but this is exactly why I don’t care. Perhaps I am too control freak to let anything or anyone, it goes without saying a God of whatever origin, dictating my life.

I want to know everything but I don’t want to belong to anything. That could be my motto.

That’s why you have, in this blog 200+ bands spanning any music genre from Amanda Palmer to Anthrax, from Honeyboy Edwards to Tinariwen ; Refused, Jack White and Fleet Foxes.

The reason why I am covering metal bands, isn’t for completeness or to gather some more traffic (even if… there are legions of Metal fans compared to indie). It is because concert-photography-wise metal concerts are lot of fun and the best to shoot.

The metal iconography, on stage, transforms into symbols, theatrical poses, weird guitars, huge drumkit, unique body language, jumps, leather clothes, tattoos, epic hairs and beards.
Everything is a film script. You feel like being on a set.

What I know about Anthrax is very short, I am not going to copy Wikipedia so I’ll just put down few bits in case the fans of Kurt Vile to end up here are curious. And I will tell what I think of the show and how to best photograph this, in the tip at the bottom, as tradition.

Anthrax are one of the big four bands of thrash metal (I don’t even know why thrash has a second H in the word). I remember their name since the eighties. They are usually put together with Slayer, Metallica and Megadeth. Known as the Big Four, Metallica managed to put them together in a recent tour.

After the first 20 years gaining consensus in the metal circuit, Anthrax got to universal fame at the beginning of the century. Not because they made a landmark mainstream album (that was Metallica) but because some landmark idiot, that has still to be spotted, made them famous. Rewind.

Remember 9/11 and the Twin Towers? OK.
Not everyone remembers that, a week after that, some letters containing anthrax powder, a lethal bacterium, were sent around the United States.

Five were killed and about 20 infected. The letters in addition to the power contained insults to USA and Israel and praised Allah. The world thought it was a bacteriological attack by some Arab terrorism. It wasn’t.
It was (probably) an American microbiologist, Bruce Edwards Ivins. One of the few people in the world to have access to the deadly microorganism. He committed suicide in 2008 and It is still not clear if and what and why he did.

The consequence, in a period of high tension and paranoia, was obvious. Anyone in the USA and the world started googling anthrax.com to know more about the biology of the disease.
Instead they ended up in the website of this thrash metal band.
Anthrax (the band) got the spotlight and, nicely, to relieve the frustration of the failed browsing, provided with full info about anthrax (the bacteria) on their website. A success.

Those time Anthrax were, as the USA, through the Bush era. Their singer was John Bush, their president George. They’re not relatives.

For most rock bands to change singer in a original line-up is very difficult and often impossible. Usually when a singer departs, or it is not available, the band split. Led Zeppelin, Doors, Nirvana, U2 or the Stones wouldn’t exist without their original singers.

For some reason many Heavy Metal bands managed to survive the change of the singer.
ACDC lived through Bon Scott, Van Halen managed to shift between Sammy Hagar and David Lee Roth many times, Iron Maiden changed at least three vocalist around Bruce Dickinson career and so on.
It may be because of a more marginal role of vocals and vocalist in the genre. You teach me.

Anthrax are not exception. They started with Joey Belladonna in the eighties and become pioneers of thrash metal. Metallica started recording at their studios.
In 1991 Anthrax recorded also one of the most interesting crossover experiment going those years. An album with hip-hop giants, Public Enemy: Bring The Noise.

Belladonna was fired shortly after and replaced by John Bush. Bush since alternated with Belladonna several times in recent years, with someone else filling the empty gaps.

Last year the news that Joey Belladonna would re-join Anthrax for the third time. They recorded a new album, Worship Music, the first with new material in 8 years, and the first with Belladonna on vocals for more than 20. A tour with the original line-up (or someway close to that) followed.

After seeing Slayer at the ATP I’ll Be Your Mirror in London performing Reign in Blood in full, I wanted to catch Anthrax live (and maybe the other 2 in the future?). My chance arrived when I read they were going to open for Motorhead tour in UK. With a Cambridge date things are easier to organise and my photopass chase began and finished successfully.

I loved this show. Not only enjoyed the three songs to take pictures, but all the other songs they played. Maybe I am getting more used to this music. I found Anthrax more approachable than what I remember of Slayer. To make it clear I don’t own any of these albums and would never listen to it at home. It’s based merely on my live experience.

I can’t tell you what or why it caught me, surely I found the aggressive approach of the genre more approachable.

I am an indie-music freak, the reason why I don’t sympathise with these bands has to do with the perception of a lack of spontaneity. The point one of the indie-music manifesto.
I see show-off, circus, theatre, entertainment that goes well beyond the music and become a key part of the whole. I know some of you would say there is not poseur attitude, others argue that there is nothing wrong to show-off, but it’s too much for me.
It probably doesn’t reach the narcissistic limits of glam metal, like The Kiss or The Darkness yetI see on stage someone performing a piece.
“They don’t talk about me or my life” Morrissey would sing.

I have the feeling they don’t even talk about the life of the ones in adoration in front of them. People that, one tattoo after the other, identify with this culture and its idols.

There is nothing wrong with it, let’s be clear, it’s just I am not interested of being part but curious to understand who is part of it. It is also a way to get ready to Neurosis, which I will have been witnessing, again, in a couple of weeks and you will have here on liveon35mm next, to close this trilogy about metal.

Anthrax are on the web and you can have a look at their rich website that, since 2001, is back to have plenty of band info. A gold mine to discover here: [website]
In the last 30 years, they also recruited their own Army that you can join at [Anthrax Army] present also on [twitter] and [facebook]

Photo tip

Poseurs
“In the heavy metal subculture, some critics use the term to describe bands that are seen as excessively commercial, such as MTV-friendly glam metal groups. Jeffrey Arnett argues that the heavy metal subculture classifies members two categories: “acceptance as an authentic metalhead or rejection as a fake, a poseur”. In a 1993 profile of heavy metal fans’ “subculture of alienation”, the author notes that the scene classified some members as poseurs, that is, heavy metal performers or fans who pretended to be part of the subculture but who were deemed to lack authenticity and sincerity.” (source Wiki)

I am not sure there are indeed two categories, if there is a “looking authentic” heavy metal band on stage I still have to see that show.
I met plenty of musicians that are proper actors, very rarely actress, on stage.

The only problem to get good shots at concerts where musicians have such a stage presence is to find your way through the photo pit.
Once you are there with a proper photopass, even with a basic concert photography experience, it is going to be an easy one. You cannot imagine (unless you experienced) how easier is to shoot a band like Anthrax compared to someone like, say, Band of Horses or Josh T Pearson.

The difference from having 4 guys standing still in front of a microphone in the darkness or having 4 guys jumping all around with daylights it’s like shooting a boring landscape at midday in summer or a japanese cherry orchard on a bright sunset during the blossom.
Guitarists are the easiest, because they often assume a precise pose, they don’t hide behind microphones and play close to the edge of the stage.
They often stand posing for photographers while playing, without moving much. If this is the case the tips to the best photos are simple.

Mount a wideangle. It’s probably my stile but the closer you are the more extreme is the perspective. The tilted image (assuming the stage is elevated) automatically comes out with a triangular composition which guarantees a sensation of grandeur with wow-effect results. Kneel down to emphasize the result. Choose a date of the tour in the smallest venue with the smallest stage. The closer the better (and easier to get access).

Check the background. I am convinced that a good shot is half due to a non-invasive background. Better neutral than confusing. Best with a symbol or a band name but, if you have it, be careful to not cut it. It’s not nice to read three letter of a name or a cut logo, unless is very famous and recognizable.

Focus on the face and use a fast shutter speed. You want it as sharp as possible. Ignore the high ISO. This days is far better a sharp image at 6400 that a blurred at 640.
If the musician doesn’t move and you’re using a very wide angle (less than 24mm) you can get nice image already at 1/60s of a sec but if the lights allow to push to 1/125 or even 1/250 is better. I tend to leave the aperture at 2.8. From a short distance it is not big the difference from 2.8 and 4 or 5.6 rather is more noticeable the difference between 1/60s and 1/250s

Etiquette tip.
To get very close to a musician will keep other photographers away from the best spot. If you are, as it is 99% of times, not alone in the photo pit, let also other fellow snappers some time to shoot. You can cover something or someone else. You’re not going to be a better photographer than the rest if you keep competition away, you’re just being rude and, tell you, we’ll remember you next time. We are many but not that many.

Time in the pit is not short only for you, it is short for everyone. Alternate and let other take their photographs as much as you want to take them.

Is there a way to put in words Motörhead career and Lemmy history. Or even just one of their concerts.
Is there a chance I can write something that hasn’t been written, filmed, screened, posted about this band?
I doubt I can.

I will not. I am not even a fan and they are many, male and big.
I am attracted by the devotion of people. Either politics  or religion or music I find it fascinating.

I have seen Motörhead live about three times in my life, all relatively recently. 2005, 2006 and again in 2012.

To write this post I went back to my negatives archive and fished out some to bring back to life some photos that were originally only on a laptop I was stolen. Forgotten since. The great advantage of analogical photography, a couple of hours on a computer and they are back with me. If they were digital files I was fucked. (No, I didn’t have a back-up of that HD, don’t even start!)

Ian Fraser Kilmister, a.k.a Lemmy, is Motörhead. The only member since he was sacked by Hawkwind after being stopped for drug possession. He fucked them off and started a new music project that will never stop since.
When he’s not playing videopoker or polishing Nazi gadgets in LA, 67 years young, Lemmy is on tour singing Ace of Spades as if it the eighties, the nineties and the noughties never existed.

For the records. Motörhead are a trio. since 1992 the same, with Mikkey Dee on drums. Since 1983 with Phil “Wizzö” Campbell as the guitarist. He’s a bit like Ronnie Wood with the Rolling Stones, he missed the best albums, but stayed as longest member except Lemmy.
I think they accept the band is their singer and bass player. There wouldn’t be Motörhead without Lemmy. There have been Motörhead with other guitarists and drummers.

Lemmy defies time. Either it is 1970, 2005 or today he stands there, Ricken-bastard bass (this is what is written on his bass’ headstock) in front of a wall of Marshalls. You know where to find him. You know how he looks like.
Same boots, cowboy hat, mutton chops, moustaches, moles, black shirt, skinny black denim and Nazi paraphernalia accessories. Despite everything, I can’t stand this last bit. Whatever.

He has the same gruff voice. Even if the claim of a bottle of Jack Daniels a day since he was 30 sounds a rockstar exaggeration, as the 2000 women he is supposed to have slept with, surely he drank more alcohol than an average Cambridgeshire village and he shagged as many women as its female inhabitants.

Motörhead defy history, music history and history altogether.
20 studio albums since 1975. Ace of Spades being their most famous, out 1980. They re-records Ace of Spades with a different title every couple of year, as if conservation was more important than progress. And as far as Motörhead it is. Die-hard fans will probably hate me, but this is it. I don’t see it as a downside. When you buy Motörhead, you know what you buy.

5 live albums too. Including No Sleep Till Hammersmith, one of the most praised live albums in the history of rock music. Get it if you don’t have it. Probably it’s all you need.

Lemmy defies biology. It is incredible how a single man can nullify what several decades of scientific research have tried to prove. Full stop.

Motörhead defy decades. The audience at their gigs spans from Lemmy generation, nowadays people in their seventies, to their grandchildren, already on the front yet to reach their teens.
They are 90% men. The 10% women look they would choose to be reborn men if they were given a choice.

Lemmy defies journalists. It is known there have been obituary ready for him since the seventies.
He is still here alive and kicking. I can see those journalists sit down every Christmas (He was born on 24th of December 1945) swearing while updating what they wrote. For 35 years. Maybe some of them are dead. He’s like cockroaches, I wouldn’t be surprise to see him surviving a nuclear attack.

Motörhead defy ears. Everything Louder than Everyone Else is one of the live albums, and a writing in everyone’s t-Shirt.
“If it’s too Loud You’re Too Old” is another of their mottos.
Motörhead gigs are indeed very loud. There’s no escape. Pointless to listen to this quietly.

Motörhead defy marketing. They’re the only band, among many other gadgets, to have just launched personalised headphones.
Headphones that have even been praised by a review on the Independent: “It’s easy to dismiss these phones as a bit of deft marketing by the band but they are surprisingly good. Features clear highs and a bass that could raise the dead.”

All said. This is not a band, it’s a touring legend. I could go on with anecdotes, tales, myths. In the end I only need paragraphs to separate the photos and give you a visual experience of their live show. Which everyone should see once in their life.

Motörhead have cool photopass stickers, with the war-pig present in most of their cover art.
I wanted to see them live at least once. I went. The year later I went again because, after that first show, I wanted to take pictures of the fans rather than the band. It was the 30th or something anniversary tour.

This year, six since last time, I wanted to have photos in color and on digital. And Anthrax were opening and I wanted their photos too.

As there’s not much difference from one album to the next or one song to the other, honestly, there’s nothing much different from one Motörhead concert to the other. They are all rock’n’fun. Same setlist throughout the tour, the space for few guitar solos, a drum solo, some rock’n’rolls and a cover (Are you ready? By Thin Lizzy this time).

The only two songs of Motörhead I can recognise are Ace of Spades and Overkill. They close the gig with the first and the encore with the second.

Motörhead are online here [website][facebook][twitter][spotify][fans website]

“There is no x metal , no y metal , no pussy metal… Heavy metal is rock’n'roll.” – Lemmy
You better like it.

Photo tip

I rarely take pictures of the audiences at gigs. I love photography of people and I’m not shy to point people a camera.
The main reason why most of time I don’t is technical. Lights are on stage, not on the fans.

Unless rare moments, and not for all bands, during the show when the fans are at their most excited, they are left in the dark. Either you shoot with flash (on paper forbidden in the pit) or very low shutter times, fast apertures and high ISO. I don’t like both outcomes.
More, to do so, you also miss the three songs time slot allocated to cover the main act.

With Motörhead I made an exceptions, for the 2006 tour, I spent time, and B&W films, purposedly onto the fans ignoring the band on stage I shot the year before. Because Motörhead fans are part of the experience. To be fair, most of biggest metal bands (Slayer, AC/DC or Iron Maiden) have the best hardcore fans to photograph.
In comparison Indie-rock audience is deadly boring, depressing and rarely showing excitement.

There is not many tips on how to shoot music fans. This is related to your photography style, if you haven’t one it will develop with time.
What I can suggest is where to take pictures, in addition to the first row from the pit.
Before the start, there are more lights and the band is not yet on. But people isn’t committed and you may want to excite them. (Often pointing the camera is enough).

The bar before the gig or between the support and the headliners is a good spot. It’s crowded and it’s easier getting unnoticed photographing people in a crowded area. Your subjects are much more interested to get a pint before the start than to worry to be posing for some weird photographer chasing them.

The merchandise stand works similarly but it is less photogenic to me. Beer pints look more rock’n’roll than totes and pins with price tags. If you want to give it a try get out before the end and wait for fans arriving after the show, that is the moment it gets more crowded.

Outside the venue. There’s not even need of a photopass here.

Fans queuing before the door opens, fans excited after the show can be amazing subjects for some cool photography. Choose sold out gigs of big bands with recognisable merchandise to optimize you result. And don’t miss James Mollison website and if you can afford a copy of The Disciples, it is an essential book about rock fans.

Two Gallants are a duo. They don’t have a bass player. It saves a seat and allows to rent a smaller tour van. It’s cheaper to tour a duo, it gives more profit than a six member band and, I believe this is not my theory, can help budgets in crisis’ times. I would like to see a graph of the increase of duos and trios and the decrease of big bands touring in the last couple of decades.

Two Gallants play guitar, Adam Stephens does and sporadically adds some harmonica. And drums, the duty of Tyson Vogel. Both sing and they do not need that bassist.
They do need beards, though.They both have.

Wikipedia teaches me Two Gallants have been around for over a decade. Adam and Tyson have been playing music together since they were kids and recorded two self-released albums separately. Which triggers my first (unanswered) question: if you have been composing together since twelve why have you released the debut separately? Wikipedia doesn’t clarify.

As Two Gallants, the duo’s debut dates 2004: The Throes. To increase the indie myth the news is that the album was remixed on vinyl only in 2006. On that 12″ there is a bonus song, a cover of Anna’s Sweater, by an unknown, defunct San Francisco band. Indie-tasty in its own, but there is more. The first 500 copies of the vinyl reissue were mistakenly pressed with a different tune, Mother’s Blues in it. If Two Gallants were going to be The White Stripes, the owners of those 500 copies may cash some real bucks on ebay.

In 2006 the band signed to Saddle Creek and had a burst in productivity. It released two more albums in as many years, What The Toll Tells and self-titled Two Gallants, plus 2 EPs in the between, more Indie credentials checked.

This is also the moment when an oddity in the biography would be useful. While touring the album in a club in Houston, Texas, a policeman was called to investigate a noise from the club. Two Gallants were playing. The cop attacked the band and the audience with a taser. Vogel spent the night in jail. The Texas police got another point to rank the chart of the stupidest police force in the world. I wonder what the officer would have done if Anthrax were on stage.

Years went by and, busy as usual, I forgot Two Gallants. I kept stumbling upon the self-titled album in record shops, I remember the weird cover, but the band vanished for 5 long years. A couple of months ago they reappeared on Rolling Stone streaming in full their fourth long playing: The Bloom and The Blight. I also learnt they released solo efforts and had some personal problems. What stays is that for a long time the band was out of the circuit.

To put things in a contest, The Beatles in five years went from Please Please Me to Sgt. Peppers (8 albums) or, in modern times, the White Stripes from De Stijl to Get Behind Me Satan (4 albums), such a long silence for an indie band in the contemporary scene is, indeed, a terrifying silence.

To make things worse, during Two Gallants five years hiatus, the American band that most closely compares to them, The Black Keys, rose to stardom. And the American band that most closely threatened The Black Keys up to that point, The White Stripes, went on hiatus.

So, if in 2007 my fantasy depicts a scene where Two Gallants and Black Keys were paired in their American roots cult, with the White Stripes dominating the garage blues world, since 2007 it changed radically.
Two Gallants disappeared, the Ohio duo paved their path to the Grammys’ red carpet with a mainstream trilogy, Attack and Release (2008), Brothers (2010) and El Camino (2011) and Meg White depression put the White Stripes to an indefinite halt.
At the end of the decade the Auerback/Carney duo (now mostly a quartet) went from playing the Astoria to Brixton Academy to headline Coachella and Lollapalooza. Jack White went side projects then solo project. Two Gallants went missing.

This was the scene when The Bloom and The Blight streamed. Now, I understand they are not the Black Keys and even less the White Stripes. I know is lazy to do such comparisons and there are rivers of words explaining to me the difference between them… but… To the occasional listener and the person that sporadically buys an album every six months, the fact is that Black Keys’ sold loads of albums and likely some at the expense of Two Gallants’. I struggle to believe their audiences are so different, despite music analysits can demonstrate otherwise.

I arrive at the lovely Junction2, best Cambridge venue by far, on a chilly Monday evening. The roadies are setting the stage after the support pushing the drum kit to the very edge, very close to me. A big band poster hangs on the background. Stephens and Vogel set and soundcheck their instruments. Beard, San Francisco Giants T-Shirt. All fits the alternative look they impersonate.

What I didn’t understand from the reviews, and didn’t catch from their records, is the amount of rumbling noise this duo creates. Cleverly, to differentiate from The Black Keys, they cut down the blues to a minimum and soul and rhythm and blues don’t flow in their veins. Even more important, they got their album produced by Jong Congleton instead of Danger Mouse. Congleton apport is an essential credit to the sound.

On top of a dusty, countryside landscape profiling the horizon as if Renaissance happened in Texas, Two Gallants don’t put Mona Lisa but a wall of heavy sound that explains even the Houston noise complain which generated the cop madness. Adam Stephens has an original, remarkable voice. Throughout the set I think often at The Band with the not subtle different that these two guys seem to make as much music as a five member full band would struggle to do. Even more when the harmonica bits of Stephens’ arrive to play parts that could well be of horns.

They wipe away my Black Keys prejudices, Two Gallants are a solid reality in their own. Their music concentrates the best of American root rock and folk and the live set expands these boundaries well beyond. I do hope the long break gave them enough rest from the scenes that we will not have to wait as much to see them again.

Follow and listen to Two Gallants online here: [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

“Three songs no flash”? Ok, that’s fine.

There are concerts when three songs may be enough and respect for the audience takes priority and helps to build respect for concert photographers.
I may shoot the entire gig tonight, there is no security in the tiny pit, it is not sold-out and the band looks relaxed.

To let people enjoy the show, once I understood I took the photos I wanted and wouldn’t get many different staying longer, I leave the pit and go to the back of the venue to enjoy the concert in a comfortable central, elevated seat of the theatre’s first ring. Given the small venue, the stage is low and despite the band makes some good noise I realise to stand between the artists and their fan may be annoying. I decide to walk away.

The set doesn’t change much from song to song, the band attitude is the same throughout and I can snap a bit more from the back, playing hide and seek with the Junction stewards that allow any camera to take photos but mine.

Concert photography is highly addictive. The adrenaline grows while in the pit and that feeling of “this is the concert image that will change the world and my life” kicks us constantly.
To step down, think and understand it is neither so essential nor so important is key.
Unfortunately, I knew Two Gallants pictures were unlikely to be published on major papers and, with dates everywhere in the country, it was also unlikely that Cambridge show would have featured on the music webzines that regularly publishing my galleries.

A low key show, nevertheless a good one that I enjoyed and I wanted to share.

Rock music is progressive, well known, hence it has started to indicate such a direction in advance.
If someone had convinced me to bet anything about Dry The River being American or English I would have lost my house.
When I read on Wikipedia that they are a band from East London, I didn’t believe it. Control freak as I am, I double checked if there wasn’t another band with the same name.

Welcome to the ‘Web Wide World’.

Internet is the place where ideas exchange happens these days. Not even Internet, actually, it’s social networks. There is no Ocean, no frontier, no barrier in arts. There may be a hindrance left when it is about language, poetry or literature but, as long as it concerns music, photography, visual arts, the “country of origin”, “city of birth” is freedom land.
Our origins are mere personal details of interest to the office releasing your passport.

Today New Zealander bands plays British 60s psychedelia (Tame Impala anyone?). The Killers, from Las Vegas, debuted with a Brit Pop album. Interpol from Brooklyn started as a Joy Division clone. Japanese bands play shoegaze and post-rock, Touareg guitarists play the blues.
In my ‘web wide world’ Dry The River, who are from Stratford, the now world famous Olympic village site in East London, play Americana. The kind of alt.folk that would have made SubPop, Seattle and Vancouver talent scouts titillating five years ago.

If I paid more attention I would remember BBC sound of 2012 panel shortlisted Dry The River as one of the most promising newcomers. On my defence, it must be said that the best artist voted out of the BBC list was Michael Kiwanuka, which never impressed me. To say BBC is not exactly my main source for music info.

I am not good at memory and since my first stream (we don’t listen to music anymore, we stream it) of Dry The River debut album, Shallow Bed, I believed they were walking the same footpath in the middle of the same forest Band Of Horses, Fleet Foxes and flannel, beardy people shot their videos and press packages.

I wasn’t so wrong, to be honest. Despite Stratford is down on their passports, Dry The River musical soul lays in those northern American woods.
Reading about them, I discover the members come from Hardcore and Power pop. An insight I find revealing when after multiple plays of the Shallow Bed a more intricate texture starts to emerge in the songs.

The music press split on them leaving a gap as wide as the Atlantic. The American reviews tend to be sceptical. It is not news that anytime someone follows down their route, keeping an edge with the UK pop origins destabilize the natives.
USA music, actually, online press either accepts bands to be plain British (Radiohead) or to renounce to any British-ness to embrace the stars and stripes wholly and faithfully. Yes, I mean Mumford and Sons are shit. The ‘Web Wide World’ (third and last time, promise) doesn’t fit with this grand design.

UK music aficionados, even more in East London, elevate to the emphatic role of “Next big thing” anything that in the last couple of years sounded American. If it grew a beard, has the world river or a subspecies of bear in the band and hired a fiddle player would be perfect. Which is where part of the misunderstanding comes.

Dry The River aren’t exempt. From Instagram to Twitter, from Facebook to Soundcloud (world has changed, these are the media) I have been informed about their ascent through photos, streams, concert snaps, youtube videos, links.

Dry The River added a date at the Junction in Cambridge, actually, they opened the new tour at the Junction. It is a good chance to see them and, eventually, get some photos published. In the good old times the opening date of a tour was the one papers review to launch the tour.
You know the story, good old days are long gone, nowadays 95% of gig reviews are from London shows. The hottest ones happen midweek. There are not good concerts in London in the weekend because music reviewers don’t bother to renounce to a festivity to review a gig.

To complete the American scenario, when Pete Liddle the band leader came on stage with his pals, his flannel shirt, blonde long hairs he reminded me of Christopher Owens of Girls.
The line-up completes as you expect. Acoustic guitar, barefoot, violin, beards, lot of microphones for vocal harmonies, hippies haircut, vintage instruments, charity shop t-shirts. There is everything for the expectations of the canonical “2012-Indie-hippie-folker”. Most are from East London even if not as far-east as Stratford.

It’s when the music starts that I understand there is more. It comes from the English background. Hints of Englishness from Radiohead to Noah and the Wales. Melody and boisterous guitar excursions. A big sound that would scare bears in the surrounding forest but appeals to hipsters in the surrounding bars. Songs end in crescendos, somehow manage to be uplifting in their melancholy.

Instead of the boring ritual of end fake end/encore, the concert comes to a close with the band stepping off the stage, to get into the crowd with guitars and percussions. Cosy, hence intimate hence nice in the hipster’s vocabulary.

They sing an a cappella version of Shaker Hymns with no amplification. It’s one of those delicate moments. It also marks the vicinity between hippies and Scouts campfires. Where’s the barrier is to be defined.

Surely it proved that if a crowd wants, it can be in silence listening to a song. What it did also prove is that even when asked, a crowd cannot refrain from using their smartphones. Even for just a song, it’s an addiction now out of control.

Dry The River UK tour has just come to a close, if you haven’t caught them live, you can catch up online at [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

Someone asked, actually many asked me, what camera I use for shooting concerts. Since I stopped working on film with my few Contax, I always used a D700.

The Amanda Palmer show I published in the previous post, signed a landmark moment on my D700 history. I lost the piece of rubber that falls under the thumb of the right hand. The other in the front left is about to say hello and depart from the camera too. Not sure where and if I can get them replaced. (anyone?)

Yes I used this camera a lot and in the least camera friendly environments. From Burma dry region (45+degrees) to some well below zero situations. From beer throwing gigs to dusty open air music festivals. From the largest human gathering on earth, don’t know among how many millions people, to the tiniest show without pit but with plenty of fans. Over just about 3 years it fell off my bag and I even fell off my scooter with it around my neck.

It’s torn, old, used but it works. I can’t think of a more solid piece of digital equipment I ever handled. I don’t know how many tens of thousands of pictures it took, but I can tell you they are very many. It keeps going. Never failed one, rather, I failed many. I fear that moment it will stop working.

Despite a D800, I still cover gigs with the smaller sister. 36MP are a pain to process. The high ISO of the D700 are probably better than the D800 (not bothered to do comparisons) and to talk friendly, no one not even National Geographic as ever asked for a file 7000+px long.

I don’t know what I will do when it dies. The alternative are either to buy a new computer and start using the D800 or to look for a D700 left somewhere. The D4 looks almost perfect but it’s huge and painfully expensive. I wished Nikon produced a stripped down version of the D4 at some point the same way it did with the D3/D700 but markeintg took a different direction. The D600 doesn’t appeal me.

Photo Tip here is. If you buy sturdy professional gear, don’t be too worried to keep it clean and shiny, be worry to take great photos. It will work with the dust and you can retouch those sensor spots at home. Pro gear is expensive also because of this, you can mistreat them and they keep working.

Science one day will discover why the category of news analysts, in the company of few species of cockroaches, can survive apocalypses. Analysts multiply during dramas and devote themselves to find the next victim and to tell us when the next end of the world is due. Now that even Maya’s followers seemed to have forgotten it.
From a (psycho)logic point of view the mistake in this reasoning would be simple to spot if the analysts detached their ego from the megalomania, just for a minute. The misunderstanding resides in the certainty that the future is one and only. It would be sufficient to change the definition of the article, from “THE future” to “A future” and all these news would be less sensational but more credible. Those victims would have a simpler name: progress.

Amanda Palmer is second only to Lady Gaga when it comes to theatricality. Months ago she came out with a move that was a golden mine for those after new victims to sacrifice without leaving the iPad and the sofa to dine. When Mrs Palmer announced that her new album will be funded by fans on Kickstarter those news analysts, that rarely understand the data they analyse, split in two groups. One was sceptical the other was asking around: “What the fuck is Kickstarter?”

Few hours later Amanda Palmer’s goal of $100,000 to make the album, was achieved. At the end of the campaign, few weeks later, the ex Dresden Doll and new wife of Neil Gaiman will reach the astronomical sum of $1,192,793. Among the 24,883 people who backed the project to fund Theatre is Evil, including me, is worth mentioning seven that signed a $10,000 cheque each either to be part of a professional photo shooting with Amanda and the Grand Theft Orchestra or to pose for a painting made by her in person. Excluding me.

The torpor of the news analysts must have been interrupted by the clanking sound of the orchestra advancing joyful over the doubloons to the rhythm of ukuleles, trombones and French horns. On every other newspaper, from Azerbaijan to Zanzibar (and excluding Italy, of course) the Palmer’s phenomenon made the chronicles. With enthusiastic-catastrophic hyperboles that in time of crisis sell more than sex.
Those who until yesterday have never heard about crowdfunding are now standing in queue ready to jump on the bandwagon. If the reason is because Mrs Palmer is upon it waiting for them topless, it has to be understood. catastrophe and sex sell even more.

What they understood, the catastrophist news analysts I mean, is that there is a new victim. Amanda killed the music industry. THE future of music, as we know, it’s breathing its last breath. No more middlemen. It’s a disaster.
Guess what? They have not even watched her Kickstarter promo video. That was her slogan!
Where’s the news I have no idea. Ever heard of e-Bay? You mean it’s for music. Sure? What about SellABand that had the same idea so long ago that they arrived at the party when the beer was still warm.

Today crowdfunding is getting everywhere. Kickstarter is launching in UK on Halloween day next week. Pledge music is already up and running and Lone Wolf just released his successfully backed album, The Lovers, on that. Songkick has started ‘Detour’ a brilliant idea to crowdfund tours. If enough people gather around a date they can send their favourite artist to play in their hometown. It is at present trying to materialize the first Andrew Bird in South America.
Professional photojournalism (I am a photographer after all) have emphas.is that proved so successful I already spent too much money on it. The book about 21st Century Communism by Tomas Van Houtryve and Revolutions about the Arab Spring work of Rémi Ochlik, killed in Syria last February, were worth all my pennies. I am going off-topic.

From Massachusetts Amanda’s millionaire evil theatre started to spread a palpable jealousy among the independent musicians (to be read: unemployed and broke). The New Yorker in a brilliant piece tried to explain the situation but it failed on the title: “Amanda Palmer’s accidental experiment with real communism”. More than to clarify it must have generated panic attacks. The concept that real communism could be a source of millions of dollars causes severe anxiety both in communists and capitalists. Poor them. Everyone who walked in that tender utopia which is the Revolution Bookstore in Harvard Square knows that to find a communist in Boston is as complicate as ordering a lobster without mayo and butter on top.

Few months later, the news analysts are back to their torpor lazily looking for emerging things to threaten THE future. The scene is different, the euphoria vanished.
Amanda Palmer spent the whole millionplus to record Theatre is Evil. I received my deluxe CD with a gadget to see a picture of her boobs in 3D, It  doesn’t really work, nevermind.

The album does work, that is important. Theatre is Evil is a massive album, with a big sound and some real big tunes. It’s as if Tori Amos finally swallowed the right acid or Regina Spektor found her mother’s music sheet left back in the Soviet college she used to teach. There is a lot of influences I can hear. Smile (pictures or it didn’t happen) – greatest title – reminds me of the Strokes at their best, I think it recall Under Control. Do It With a Rockstar, one of the catchiest songs of the album follow the same insisting chorus of Franz Ferdinand’s Do You Wanna. I am not against inspiration and I find silly arguments about plagiarism in Music. I believe artists must be influenced by what is out there and re-elaborate the past is the way to A future. So said, Dear Amanda, Melody Dean is the Knack’s My Sharona revisited. Same riff played by a funnier ensemble.

Somewhere, someone spots – internet is unforgiving – that Mrs Palmer used the millionplus to pay back some personal debts. Maybe inspired by one of Fidel Castro talks at the Cuban Communist Party conference, she hid the news in a verbose confession in her blog. The irritation of the penniless (read: Independent musicians) increased.
It will even be THE future but some steps stay the same in the centuries. You release an album, you’ve got to tour it.

What did Amanda think to move in a microsecond from ‘la pasionaria’ of the people collection to a collection of passionate people ranting against her? She announced that local musicians will join her travelling orchestra for the tour. The penniless (see above) invested the few pounds left in cheap alcohol to start celebrating till someone moved the confetti from a beer stained copy of the contract and noticed the small prints that kind of say: “… I am not going to be able to pay you who play with me… expect a lot of cold beer and warm hugs. Kisses Amanda”. Mrs Palmer can’t afford $35,000 to pay the orchestras she needs to make her show.

That rockstars have magic powers to spend in a day as much as normal people earn in years has been of popular knowledge since Keith Moon parked a Bentley on the bottom of a five stars hotel swimming pool but the question stays. Dear Amanda ‘fucking’ Palmer, what the fuck happened to those $1,192,793 when you would have been happy with $100,000?

Freelance musicians’ God, I guess you can look for its Facebook page now that Unions went extinct, couldn’t ask for a better occasion to strike with thunderbolt and lightning. The entire community of independent desperate musicians of the world, roughly about 2 billions people, shouted at the scandal and announced a boycott.

The only category who was unmoved by the plea and stayed in front of Lightroom editing dark shots were concert photographers. We meet everyday requests as “give me all your photos for free I give you credits you will have excellent visibility”. We have never seen even a warm beer or experienced even a cold hug should be surprised or outraged by what?

I tell you, it’s simple. The mess the penniless musicians made about that silly contract did the hat-trick. $35,000 emerged out of the blue, all of at sudden, where there wasn’t anything left. Amanda ‘fucking’ Palmer did sign that ‘fucking’ cheque in the end. Power to the people. Is she a real communist? Not at all. She was forced by a global boycott that was about to costing her much more than 35 grands and a letter of insults by Steve Albini. (Side note: God always bless him).

I arrive at Koko. Squeezed between the theatre and the carnival in the smallest photo pit of all times, I have few seconds to take a couple of snaps of the fans standing in costumes on the first row. A security guy arrives and sends me up in the balcony. Managements, he explains, said the artist cares more of fans than press photographers. Understandable. (sidenote: she has her own crew filming on stage).
From up there, for over 3 hours supports included, I watch the show through my camera’s viewfinder.

What at the times of The Dresden Dolls was a punk/cabaret inspired to Brecht’s Weimar Republic in this solo-project version has become a circus/theatre that Federico Fellini would have adored. (If you love Mrs Palmer and do not know who Federico Fellini is, I sorted out your next weekend!)

It’s not a concert tonight, it’s a theatrical show and a great one. Full of surprises, dresses, make-up, red roses. The four member band is in white. The drummer looks pretty much identical to Dresden Dolls’ Brian Viglione for being topless, rumbling, cool haircut and similar technique. I missed the name of the bass player but I didn’t miss that he is the one able to keep all the pieces of the ensemble together and it isn’t easy, considering part of the Orchestra met for the first time only hours earlier.
The young man on guitar grew up with milk and Purple Rain, he dreams of Prince but reminds me of the singer of the Kooks. There is material for a therapist. It looks that if it wasn’t for Neil Gaiman standing side of the stage Amanda would be happy to have sex behind his guitar.

The “kick-star” arrives in silk kimono and uniform hat to introduce all supports. The comparison I read on the reviews with Spektor’s Soviet Kitsch make a lot of sense now. She sings, plays keys and ukulele. She goes through the songs of Theatre is Evil and some of The Dresden Dolls. In few minutes the hat is gone, part of the dress too and she is in her bra for the rest of the gig. It must be her obsession. If people concentrated only on the music they would miss the best part. I don’t mean the boobs, sorry.

The band seems to get distracted by the party happening on stage as well. As any great actress Amanda shows a rainbow of emotions on stage. Joys, flirts, laughs, anger and desperation. When she jumps over the fans, the most stunning crowd-surfing since Wayne Coyne. On a hugely long dress she floats over Koko with the train of her gown almost covering the entire hall. (sidenote: I fucking left the right lens in the camera bag!)

It’s late when the guests procession opens and I decide to miss the last fast train home self-inflicting a very short sleep. The first is a rapper, totally unknown only to me, Scroobius Pip. He raps something that I will learn is a very famous Letter from God to Man. I mentioned megalomania already this post so I’ll skip this.

There is the cover moment with Careless Whisper. The interesting thing, again, isn’t the pretty plain version of the song but the saxophonist in a golden catsuit and the stage photographer that passes the camera to Amanda Palmer to get the mic, sing and strip. In her thigh highs and dark-red bra she is a very pleasant interlude and everyone seems to forget George Michael and Amanda’s boobs. (Confession, I am easily seduced by female photographers).

To bring the show back into moral integrity (*smiles*) the husband moment arrives. Ladies and Gentlmen Mr Neil Gaiman. He has a Wikipedia bibliography longer than that of William Shakespeare but my ignorance could synthesize in “he wrote the script of two series of Doctor Who”. I never watched a single episode. He is welcomed on stage by Mrs Gaiman, they glance in love, they kiss in public and he sings a lullaby supported by a band of clowns playing hand saws.

When I believe the apex just arrived, the big surprise. Richard O’Brien in drag and high heels shows up to sing Time Warp. It’s the apotheosis. The fans, most of them look they arrived to Koko straight from The Rocky Horros Show rehearsal without undressing, are thrown into ecstasy . To see a 70 years young man in legins and 12 cm heels live on stage, dancing to the rhythm of “It’s just a jump to the left And then a step to the right, with your hands on your hips, you bring your knees in tight, but it’s the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane, Let’s do the Time Warp again!” it’s a landmark moment in my concert chronology which is almost as long as Neil Gaiman bibliography.

When I am sure to miss even the last train and I start thinking which is the best Kings Cross bench to spend the night, the final surprise. The security guy kicks me off my place for the second time. Mrs Palmer will come to sing from the balcony where I have been relegated for the whole gig. The band arrives to the box for a cappella version of Want It Back rearranged for Orchestra, megaphone and fans. The red velvets and the golden baroque decorations of Koko are the perfect frame for this show’s conclusion. I rush to the opposite balcony to snap the last few moments and then, even faster, toward the station. I manage to catch the last train the very last second.

Don’t miss out, Amanda Palmer is everywhere online check:
[website][blog][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

Back home at 2 am. I post-edit the photos until past 3am to send them out to the agency. No beer, no hugs, just hard work driven by passion.
There will be plenty of reviews of this amazing show, I mutter, my eyes dropping by exhaustion in front of the monitor. Alarm clock set up at 7.30am as usual.

There haven’t been.
Why the fuck there are not photo reviews of this gig on national press?!

You’ve got them here, tell your friends. This was amazing.

The amount of music accessible through the net at present is so vast that a band to have recognition has to conform to a precise style, balancing the difficult equilibrium of being boring and being identifiable. Usually when artists want to depart from an expected style they use marketing tricks as “side project”, “solo project” or “old demos I thought it was the right moment to release”.

Liars were founded in Brooklyn, New York City, but they come from LA California. It’s already disorienting but… bear with me.

To date, they recorded 6 albums which span everything from dance to punk through electronica. And span the world. It is certainly not the first time artists like to explore different aspect of their creativity, David Bowie mastered this, it is less likely this happens nowadays.

Liars don’t master coherence, they master changeability. Liars record an album, tour it, get some following that, by the time the next album arrives are there to feel disoriented. Liars have already moved to something different.
Maybe this is the ultimate expression of artistic freedom but also the ultimate guarantee of fans alienation. It must be tagged as brave to say the least. I like brave bands, that’s why I dislike Mumford and Sons.

As David Bowie, the eclectic trio travels a lot to produce their music, looking for inspiration not only from other music but from places. Brooklyn was the set for Liars’ debut, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top. Then they moved to the forests of New Jersey for the follow up, They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. The third album was recorded abroad, in Berlin. It is a concept, why does Berlin inspires concept? (I want to read about this), Drum’s Not Dead. Unless Bowie, the German residency of Liars was not going to last for a trilogy, they came back home to Los Angeles to record Sisterworld, probably the most successful (and accessible) of their records.

To record WIXIW the latest, out few months ago, on tour tonight, they used an abandoned block in an industrial estate with no contact with the Ciy of Angels whatsoever. Probably a glimpse that even LA is becoming disorienting. The album that they are touring has more electronic than ever. The bass is mostly sampled, guitar is scarce and drums are resounding. They toured with Radiohead in the past and there is a clear Thom-York-ian influence in the songs.

I saw a Liars’ set at Portishead’s curated I’ll Be Your mirror ATP in July 2011. This four central photos are from that show. It was a big stage with a big audience and they surprised me with a set made of something that I would call more related to math-rock or geometric compositions. Maybe it inspired the palindrome used in the latest album title. I may be confused and surely I don’t remember well, but what I saw at the ATP had musically very little to do with what Liars played tonight in Cambridge.

When I arrive the Junction is empty. I don’t know if it is a consequence of the fans’ alienation, the economic crisis hitting even the rich Cambridge university students or a mistake in venue hire. There are less than 100 people around tonight, in a venue of a capacity of over 800. Liars will play Scala in London the day after, a venue of 1100, in a town 100 times bigger than Cambridge. It makes more sense.

I don’t know if it is this feeling of empty space that disorients the band for the first couple of songs. The concert struggles to take off. Angus Andrew starts on vocal with drummer Julian Gross on keys and Aaron Hemphill on keys. Then they swap throughout the following three songs. It looks as if they want to cover all the stage poses for the time slot I am photographying them, but that’s my megalomania. And I will shoot the entire set.

Angus Andrew is concentrated on the music and the more the gig progresses the more he spends time with eyes are closed and mind focused.
I am impressed by the rumbling drums, I absolutely didn’t remember neither from the record nor from the other show. There is an almost tribal beat that bring the few people to enjoy the extra space and even attempt to dance. The rhythm make me enjoy the electronic bits more than the 10 minutes I usually can stand this music. It’s a short set, just over the hour, but when I am back home post-editing photos I play WIXIW on spotify to double listen it. It is an album that I may have underrated because of that fans alienation syndrome. Maybe I was waiting for Sisterworld part 2. Big mistake. I’m not a Liars‘ fan, mild excuse.

Liars are on the web here [website][facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

Let’s start from a point. It is very bad photo etiquette to stand in a photo pit and raise your DSLR to take pictures. It should not be done. The photographers with you in the pit will have several pictures with hand+camera in the way which can ruin otherwise good frames. I am plenty of these, I bin them straight from the camera so can’t show any.

It is not good for fans to have the visual obscured by a arm and a big camera. It is disturbing to the band; the stage light don’t let the members to see the audience, a camera suddenly arising from nowhere to be 50cm from someone singing it’s not desirable.

Why photographers tend to raise cameras and shoot away from the viewfinder?
Simple, because the stage is higher than the photo pit, sometime much higher, and most concert photographs tend to have an annoying elevated perspective.
It also happen, and this Liars gig is the case, that bands members play behind keys and it is even more annoying. With the short depth of field of a lens at full aperture counterbalancing the lack of light, the bits coming from the back of keyboards look blurred dark stains. The player hands are often cut which is not the best contributions to composition.

To raise your hand to get the camera higher than the keyboards allowing it to frame the player and the keys helps the photo. As it helps to shoot frontal portraits.

I am Italian. We are infamous champions of bad etiquette, we ignore sensible (erm… all) rules and we are arrogant. I have to control my impulse in this situation because often I would really tend to go for the photo ignoring the world around me.
There are very rare occasions when the rule can be broken because the three disturbing conditions are absent.

- No other photographers in the pit: Being alone avoids the problem to get in the way of someone else.
- Empty venue: There was so much space around that the audience could move easily and wasn’t bothered by me at all.
- A singer that sings with eyes closed: He was not bothered by my presence (I was also allowed to shoot the entire show) and by my camera.

For some shots I raised the camera and portrayed the band from a different perspective.
Technically it is not easy. I don’t like live view, I miss the moment with the mirror shift causing the shutter delay. I prefer to go a bit wider and trust my experience going blindly. I miss some shots. Nevermind.

Be very precautious if you are trying.

Thankfully, I am still alive, kicking and shooting concerts. Songkick tells me this show marks my 500th live gig. Counting festivals as one, quite a lot of live music.

Once upon a time, about 20 long years ago, I was about 20 and I had probably been at 20 gigs, lazily zapping TV I landed on an Italian Music channel broadcasting a video by a trio. I was caught by the energy. They were playing in a large empty room, lit by a dim blue light. I cannot find it on youtube, I don’t know what song that was but I know it was The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. I noticed two things. The presence of two guitarists without a bass player; the discordance between the music and the band’s name. That groove had nothing to do with the concept of blues a twenty something guy living in Rome in the 90s could link with the genre: it wasn’t wrong the band name, it was limited my concept of blues.

The music panorama, at the outskirts of the Anglophone empire, still resounded with echoes of 80s pop. The roar of Seattle’s bands was approaching; basses were slapped hard in California by hard-rockers trying to get rid of the megalomania of stadiums by inflating their song with funk. In some colleges of minor University groups of nerds were trying to claim ‘indie-pendence’. Their screams, filtered through UK which at times was the inevitable bridge between Italy and USA music, arrived feeble. Deafened by the Madchester discos and stoned by ecstasy, Brit bands were looking for a solution to make the Beatles cool again.

The Blues Explosion was born in New York. New York was neither what it is today, 15 years later, nor the one of CBGBs revolution, 15 years earlier. The Big Apple suffered an economic crisis and huge unemployment rates. Crime was so out of control that Manhattan wasn’t a safe area. The Subway was gangs’ territory; Harlem and the Bronx no-go zones even for the cops. Brooklyn, Williamsburg, Dumbo and the hip avant-garde galleries that in a decade will revolutionise the art and the music scene once again, were not even a mirage. Sheriff major, Rudolph Giuliani was yet to be elected.

In this sticky mix of poured beer and grime, the Blues Explosion crackled its first stirrings. Jon Spencer got bored of Pussy Galore, his hardcore/garage band. They debuted few years before re-recording the entire Exile on a Main Street by the Rolling Stones on 500 limited edition tapes. He met Judah Bauer and Russell Simins and the three will embark in a journey that is still going.

It was clear to me since that video that I was in front of a band whose result was more than the sum of its parts. Jon Spencer brought the rock’n’roll, including leather trousers and gel; Judah Bauer the blues, the dirty one electrified in a Mississippi that ain’t got cleaned-up in Chicago, plus the leather jacket; Russell Simins a three pieces drum-kit rigorously lacking tom-toms, plus greasy curls and a worn-out t-shirt.

It’s twenty years since those days and the Blues Explosion is still here. It was abandoned, neglected, deserted but never forgotten. Neither by its fans nor by Jon Spencer. An endless queue of musicians never stopped the pilgrimage to study their lesson. They washed-up, made-up, dressed-up the music. They removed the gel and used eyeliner. They got rid of the black leather and wore stripes. They have become rockstars and have won Grammys.

A revolution that rejected the minor pentatonic and freed the scene out of the garage. Jon Spencer Blues Explosion has been a catalyst, a lifeboat to cross the heart of the blues into the new millennium. They left the unnecessary: the 12 bars, the cotton fields and the bass player, and kept the essential: the punk spirit, the energy and the leather boots.

Without Extra Width, Orange, Now I Got Worry and Acme rock music wouldn’t have the White Stripes and the Black Keys. Fat Possum wouldn’t sign Crocodiles, EL-P and Dinosaur Jr. Their talent scouts would still be strolling Nelson’s Street in Greenville to spot a late 80 years old bluesman stomping in a brothel.

Now that R.L. Burnside left, to bring the blues back to the Devil and Jack White and Dan Auerback fly business class to collect Grammys at a big red-carpet galas in LA, the Blues Explosion has interrupted a 8 years hiatus. Spencer, Bauer and Simins are back in town to showcase Meat and Bone. Their first new material since Damage. It is not an essential record, none of Blues Explosion albums is. Not even Steve Albini managed to record the momentum they produce live. Blues Explosion albums are sketches to be developed into thundering ideas on stage. Meat and Bone is not exception.

The album launch is happening in the basement of a bar in Dalston in the Northeast of London. Here a wave of hipsters, loaded with DJ sets and organic juices, are kicking out a Turkish community who dwelled the area for a long time.
Birthdays is a new London bar that replaced a reggae venue. I am early. On the street floor, along a road packed with kebab restaurants, hairdressers and more bars, few youngsters queue for a pint of Guinnes at 4.2£. Audacious haircuts and All Saints accessories, they sit at small tables tasting organic novelle cuisine, entertaining in deep conversations as: “nice singlet!” – “I found it at a charity shop for a fiver, mate” (yes sure, I bet you did). Grizzly Bear new album airs.

Jon Spencer doesn’t have anecdotes from a big theatre stage to tell and I doubt’s he cares of a new organic variation on guacamole recipe, but in 25 years the band built a solid following. To photograph the show in a room with a capacity of 200 people who have been waiting for 8 years to listen to some new stuff, means to fight to get to the front.

I am standing next to the toilets, in front of a door still closed. I peek through the slit. There’s a bar on the left and a tiny stage at the back. While I wait the girl at the box finds my name on the guest-list, I read the program of events at Birthdays. It’s as if the summary of the latest issue of Vice Magazine materialises. Unsurprisingly Vice sponsors the venue.

Still queuing at the door, now with a black bold B stamped on my hand, I chat with a group of die-hard fans. There is the one who saw the Blues Explosion live countless times since 1994, the one who has been at the New York party of the album. I also meet Adam the owner of Pop-Catastrophe that I have known for a long time and it is by far the best unofficial site of any band.
To get as many friends as possible it is essential. When I will stand in the way, between them and their idol, knowing who I am instead of bringing me hate will bring me support. They want me to take good shots.

Eventually that door opens. I walk pass the bar and sit on the small step of the stage studying how to survive the lack of lights. A man touch my shoulder, he needs space to put an amplifier on stage. It’s Jon Spencer. For the next 30 minutes, as a good electrician, Spencer will sort out the mess of cables to assemble the devices which deliver one of the most sought sound in rock. Satisfied, he fades in the changing room.
Judah Bauer his ready and stands next to a column, left of the stage, chatting with a friend. He hugs his telecaster as it was his girlfriend. Russell Simins doesn’t seem too bothered. He appears in sunglasses, gives a quick look at the tiny drum-kit and disappears. He will pay the price of negligence midway through the set when the music must stop to repair a faulty stool.

It’s 9:30pm. Jon Spencer appears from the backstage. He changed his skinny jeans with super skinny leather trousers with a sort of Starwars style boot-cut. Shirt is black. I’ve been close many times but never that close. Jon is incredibly fit. A photo of Marcus Mumford I saw in the afternoon comes to mind and I am convinced forties are the new twenties. In recession times, to sell the soul to the devil is a much better investment than to sell it to Island Records.

My last concert of the Blues Explosion was in Barcelona at Primavera Festival 2011. It was an incredible, unexpected show. It started slow and grew into an apotheosis 2 hours later with people still gathering on the hill surrounding the small stage despite the approaching sunrise.
It isn’t always like this. Jon Spencer live can be stellar and can be very disappointing. I remember when in a tour they supported The Hives, in 2005. He was so pissed off (to open for an upcoming Swedish garage band, maybe?) that the show was a total let down. Bad management strategy.

Tonight the the fish swims in his favourite reef. It is a long time Spencer doesn’t play in such a small place, not in London. Even Heavy Trash, the side project that reinterpreted rockabilly and kept him busy in the last few years, could book larger venues.
The electric guitar, the mic swallowed by half, the sweat. The ability to mould, from the discordant mix of punk and blues, his impure rock’n’roll.

Besides the lighting, everything is perfect. In a short set of about a hour the Blues Explosion play most new tracks. On a video emerged on youtube there are Black Thoughts, Bottle Baby, Danger, Black Mold and Bag of Bones. Another one followed with Tell Me That You Love, Bear Trap and Get Your Pants Off . There are more pearls mixing with the new music to demonstrate the well-known theorem: never judge Jon Spencer Blues Explosion from the albums. They are born to live on stage, as Iggy Pop they need the audience. They need the performance. They feel the transfer. If there is nothing that gets in the way a Jon Spencer show can be your concert of the decade.
He walks down the step, with the guitar and the microphone. Jon Spencer he’s back and has brought the Blues Explosion with him. He sweats the shirt, he oozes rock’n’roll.

Everything you need to know about The Blues Explosion and any material regarding their members can be found on [pop-catastrophe] more on official links is here:[website] [facebook][twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

I’m fed up of taking dark photos shot at 6400ISO @ 1/30s – f2.8 that come out blurred because of the total lack of lighting. I am not here to complain today.

“You have to make virtue out of necessity” an Italian proverb goes.

When I understand that this show, as any other I saw of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, is not going to change light-wise from the traditional darkness, I opt to exploit the advantage of not having only three songs and play with the odious flash on top of my camera to sort this gig out.

Slow shutter speed flash isn’t rocket science, not at concerts. It is difficult to predict what the results will be and to reproduce them. The most important condition is to have quite a lot of time to experiment and quite a lot of power left in your battery.

The advantage of using flash is obvious: it adds enough light to the scene and freezes the movement, flashlight is very very fast. It is possible to stop down the aperture even in complete darkness.
The disadvantage is that while the rest of the frame comes out dark the subject is lit with an unpleasant bright front light.

Slow shutter + flash combines the advantage of flash light with enough exposure time for the dark areas of the stage to emerge. Due to photographer’s shaking and people moving there is blur but the instant the flash goes it’s sharp. Out of many images some come out nice. It gives a great sense of dynamic that fits pretty well with the hyper energetics Blues Explosion show.

Unfortunately there is not the ideal setting to the ‘perfect’ photo, using this technique.
I always try different approaches. As an old film fan I am not used to chimping but I admit here it is useful to check how things are going.
My favourite setting is a quite long shutter speed, around one second, with the aperture around f8-f11 to allow enough depth of field. ISO around 800 are good quality which would allow some cropping if needed (it will be).

I enjoy zooming during the second of exposure, while the shutter is open. Give it a try. Zoom in to zoom out or zoom out then zoom in. Both can deliver good or crap photos, there is no rule either. Coupled with front or rear sync it also changes the results. Rear sync flash is not essential, rockstars are not motorbikes so to predict where they are going next isn’t obvious.

Using faster shutter speed gives less blurred (and darker) surrounding but the image points to dullness quite quickly. With anything faster than 1/15s you’re close to get those out-for-dinner-with-friend-posted-on-facebook kind of images. You know what I mean.

If you don’t like blur and want to use flash with fast shutter you have to get an external one and at least point it up towards the ceiling to get diffuse light. It would be better if you can put it somewhere away from the hot-shoe of your camera (have a friend happy to hold it?).

It is not always possible, actually it is quite impossible to go to a gig and have the opportunity to mount flashes somewhere on stage but if you are allowed and want to know how, browse Todd Owyoung IShootShows.com website. He’s the flash master.

Mogwai formed mid-nineties in Glasgow. To me, they have always been the band responsible to have both brought post-rock to the masses and many patients to NHS otolaryngologists. I didn’t forget my earplugs to the 2012 IBYM ATP, but for that 2006 concert at the Junction I did and I believe I still pay the price.
Wikipedia was probably not yet complete enough to teach me that: “According to Chinese tradition, mogwai are certain demons, which often inflict harm on humans.”. Everything would have been crystal clear.

Following the path of Post-Rock pioneers, from Slint to Dirty Three, mixing it with noise coming from Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine, a small dose of slowcore courtesy from Low and Codeine and even some British pop by The Cure who supported on tour many years ago when The Cure were a great band, the Glaswegian cocktail have proved the most successful in the post-rock bars worldwide for over a decade.

Contemporary to Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Mogwai music roughly belongs to the same galaxy, although, instead of opting for the soundtrack inclination of the Canadian anarchic collective, the Glaswegian always looked like a proper rock band.
They compose mainly instrumentals, have guitar strong tunes, but sound like rock “songs”. There is neither the feel of the soundtracks that GY!BE would put on top of utopic movies by radical directors nor the grandiose modern classic symphonies Mono would want to last for centuries to come.

Mogwai are here and now. Their debut, 1997, Mogwai Young Team is probably their best record. The guitar assault introduced the band to the world and blew away most of the competition. They also gained some of the fans pissed by waiting for Kevin Shield band next album (still to be seen… and counting). Mogwai Against Satan the closing tune is the quintessential example of what Mogwai wanted to be and managed to achieve.

I am not willing to go through the entire analysis of their discography, now counting 7 full album and as many EPs. Mogwai production, as any other band, has had highs and lows. Young Team and Rock Action are my two picks. Mr Beast signed what is their softest side. The latest Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will is the best title of the decade. It marks also their return to the producer of Young Team. I don’t know if it is because the world has changed or they have, but the original power still well present in the speakers has a bit dissipated in the composition.

Despite the change of style in their studio albums, Mogwai remain a band with a very consistent sound. Superficially the mix has been defined as alternating quiet passages that rise the tension till it bursts in loud guitar explosions. Quiet-Loud-Quiet-Loud. Well, quite loud for sure. The result is emotionally liberating. It’s the music analogue of a growing anxiety that in the end erupts and crumbles giving the listener a sensation of liberation.

Words aren’t needed and very rarely used, despite the potential lyrical skills emerging from the titles of albums and songs. Mogwai point at listeners’ emotion, they don’t need to define it with words, they stimulate a internal reaction by the use of dynamics, volume. Sound waves that reach all organs to the point of dizziness.

At home, whichever your hi-fi system is, unless you want to fight with your neighbours and convince the upcoming police that you need to resolve the anxiety through music, you are limited to use headphones that constrain the experience (and do no good to the earing).
Live the Mogwai approach reaches its apex. In front of the stage, the feeling of constrain and liberation is complete. As an art installation the band presence is never oppressive, instead multiple layers of guitars pile up towards the audience. The experience is fulfilling for the mind (and beyond fulfilling for the ears).

Arrived to London to curate a day at the I’ll Be Your Mirror festival, the event brought the best of Post-Rock & Co. you could get on tour in 2012. Sharing the stage with, among many others, the exceptionally reunited Codeine and the comeback of Dirty Three  after Ellis duties next to Nick Cave, the arrive of the Scottish group was the perfect topping over the only glorious sunny weekend of this British summer. The festival was, erm, indoor!

Either together with the thousands gathered at Alexandra Palace or the few hundred who joined them at the Junction, being at a Mogwai concert is as a group meditation that instead of happening in complete silence it does in saturated, distorted volume. Opposites touch.

There is a lot about Mogwai on the Internet: [website][facebook] [twitter][spotify]

Photo tip

I have the feeling my 35mm activity is gone for good, so this could be the swan song. It’s a long time I don’t shut behind me the door of the darkroom to the hours spent printing negatives. I haven’t shot and developed B&W films for a while and, sincerely, I feel I am enjoying the abundance of time I have to dedicate to other things. This didn’t seem to affect my career. People stopped asking for classic prints long before I stopped printing. The latest request I had, weeks ago, for someone I shot on film replied that it wasn’t a problem to have a digital print from the negative. He could not tell the difference from a digital print and a silver gelatine.

Agency, journals, websites want a jpeg. Nothing else. They don’t know what to do with a negative or a piece of coated emulsion.

There is not much reason to be nostalgic. When I shot Mogwai in the smoky darkness of the Cambridge Junction, overwhelmed by unbearable volume so that even the cameras shook to the decibels, it wasn’t a photographer’s easy task.

Last May photographing Mogwai at the ATP I’ll Be Your Mirror in London, with the potential to push ISO to 6400, using colour and a large capacity card, was easier.
To the point of sounding pretentious, since I moved to digital I said gig photography has become to me a simpler task.
When I opted for pixels and changed my gear, I also went from manual focus to autofocus, from fixed primes to zooms, from a 36 X2 rolls to as many photos I could shoot.

Basically from one day to the other I found myself downloading a CF card onto a computer and playing around with few cursors to get an incredibly sharp/balanced/colourful image out of the most adverse conditions. That is why I rarely complain about bad lighting. I used to shoot at f1.4, manual focusing on my 35mm or 85mm and push a 400ISO B&W film to 800 or 1600 to try to get something out of 72 frames. If that was possible doing the same on a modern D-something camera it’s more possible.

The awkward photo tip for the aspiring music photographer with a small budget who wants to start today is: Save money from an expensive camera, a fast zoom lens, a powerful computer with a pricey editing software and go for one of those dusty cheap film cameras in second hand retailers. Couple it with a pair of those fast, brilliant old lenses nowadays available at the cost of a curry. Then invest in some films (and eventually in a tank and a scanner if you don’t bother to bring it to a lab and get a CD back with the negatives). Than go shoot.

Shooting on film means to not be able to see the results for few days, to think each frame carefully, to understand how the exposure work to the point of predicting what is the light and the right exposure. “Is this a f1.4 – 1/60s show or I can push the aperture or the shutter a couple of stops and still impress the negative?”
It is all more difficult, but once you will be able to control a film camera, to understand how it works, you can control every other camera. It’s like learning to drive on an old car then moving to a modern fully automatic vehicle.

This doesn’t look the most convincing of tips in the era when “we want it all and we want it now” but if you learn how a camera works on a film device for a quite long time and eventually develop on digital a style, I am pretty sure the photography will be far better. There is also the risk to stay on film and buy a second hand M6 and some leitz glasses with the price of a digital camera/lenses/computer. Which is like being able to drive a Ferrari but deciding that the old beetle on e-bay is way more cool.