-ROYAL EXCHANGE THEATRE, MANCHESTER-
Not much about tonight feels of this world and that’s OK. Normal is over-rated. Normal is terra firma and not is more about a kind of astral ascendency. This is music in the round. The music with interstellar soundscapes and outer space imagery. This is kosmic.
So it’s Sunday evening for a kick off; not the most rock & roll of times, and this is a gig put on by Band On The Wall but which isn’t actually at Band on the Wall. This is a gig in a theatre, ferchrissakes – trippy electronica noodling its way, surreptitiously into the home of Pinter, Shakespeare and Beckett.
And yet the time and setting create a rather welcome disconnect from the usual gig experience. Instead of a crowd in the pit and the performer raised on a stage at one end of a room, tonight Jane Weaver is in the centre of Royal Exchange space pod bubble, and the crowd are arranged around her, as though in a gallery looking down, witnesses at some sonic surgical procedure. Large screens surround her on each of the four sides, with projections from outer space and other associated zeotropic trippiness. Within this illuminated liminality, Jane is at work. Never has a gig felt quite so much like climbing into the Tardis.
Jane plays a variety of tracks from the two most recent albums – 2014’s The Silver Globe and last year’s Modern Kosmology. She starts each song from the foundations of a vinyl turntable, spinning seven and twelve inch records as though drum loops. (The sound of the needle gently finding its groove on a piece of vinyl is truly one of life’s most precious, spiritual sounds… this from a man who runs three turntables, for varying reasons). Then each track builds in layers, sometimes looped, sometimes played on keyboards or acoustic guitar, enabling Jane to move around her space and front each different side of her audience. But usually she returns to a particular mic by one keyboard, and that’s fine by me, as that is directly in front of myself and my gig buddy for the evening, reclining in strangely comfortable seats as Jane carves sound sculptures as though more an architect, than producer, of sound.
Jane is in sneakers, leggings and a rather loose blue all-in-one that also suggests some medical procedure, or perhaps someone roaming the halls of an empty Victorian asylum, tripping towards insanity. But there is nothing unhinged about the vocals. Her voice is more ethereal, winding through galaxies like spectral light trails, floating through songs like ‘The Lightning Back’ and ‘I Wish’ from Modern Kosmology, the lyrics indeed connecting our frail hold on mortality and our place on this pebble in our korner of kosmos with rather grander, existential questions like: what the chicken scratch is really going on?
And I could recline in this space and let it wash over me all evening, soundtrack to Sunday and thoughts kin various boxes. Gorgeously cosmic.
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