Orca Team / Joanna Gruesome / Edible Arrangements
Brighton, The Green Door Store
3 July 2012
An indiepop triple bill in Brighton had Orca Team, Joanna Gruesome and EdibleÃÂ ArrangementsÃÂ treating the crowd toÃÂ spectralÃÂ post-punk, energetic garage rock and 60s surfy reverb. Anna Travis reports.
Edible Arrangements pull off a haunting, glacial, spectral post-punk sound. Creepy, measured harmonies relay around horror organ riffs. The spookiness is undercut by the warm, homely amateurism of the stocking-footed keyboardist, breaking into giggles.
The groups’ bedroom aesthetics extend to the contrived clumsiness of sound check fiddling, which punctuates the set. Casual complaints about mics and amps are becoming indie etiquette.
The feeling attempted is that the show’s not started and the audience is almost invisible, reinforcing the bedroom fourth wall of the stage. The symmetry of the trio draws you in to the private stage space, pulling you towards the tense precision of the drummer at the centre.
It’s rather unsettling to have your musical epiphanies served back to you by some cheeky, noisy teenagers but Joanna Gruesome do an excellentÃÂ noisy, fuzzy Galaxie 500 cover a couple of songs in. The Wedding Present guitar moments and scattershot drumming keeps the crowd nodding contentedly.
There’s an awkward youthful charm to this gang who keep moaning about ”Ëfeeling really ill’ and mumbling apologies for various otherÃÂ indecipherables. The girl singer oddly seems to spend most of the time shooting coy glances at everyone rather than letting rip (as much as Shop Assistant style singers ever can) like she does on record (not sure of the non-frumpy term for ”Ëon record’ in the format frenzy age).
Nostalgia has reached such a critical mass culturally that ”Ë60’s sounding’ is a redundant descriptor. Instead there’s a decade grammar and the 60’s echo chamber vocal is its most active reverb in present indie pop.
Orca Team (pictured) do a wonderfully controlled version of this sound trope. It’s a breezy resonance, as opposed to the churchy moans of Beach House or Crystal Stilts. This is another very tight trio, rippling gorgeous guitar waves, against The Green Door’s moist brickwork.
They manage to pull off a simultaneously sleazy and clean cut surf pop with beach boys drumming and melodies that drown you in super-8, sun scorched bliss.
All words by Anna Travis.