The first, last and only time I visited Sunderland, I was fifteen and was somehow talked into seeing a pantomime with a then-girlfriend. Despite being less than thirty minutes away, I never visited the place again. It wasn't that I recall it as particularly unpleasant nor did anything gruesome occur (aside from the pantomime) - it's just that Sunderland is one of those places that you simply don't visit unless you have some sort of urgent or unusual business to attend to. It's always been overshadowed by its more prolific brother, Newcastle.
That said, for a relatively small population (around 280,000) the city - which was a loosely knit collection of small towns for most of its history - has produced the likes of The Futureheads, Kenickie, Maximo Park, Leatherface and the hotly tipped Frankie and the Heartstrings...and then there's Field Music - who I will deliberately separate from their fellow music makers. Their sound was always more portable - it rings out further, with a more metropolitan slant and less provincial edge. So far, they've dropped two records (with a third about to come) bursting with ambition, depth and intelligence. Their self titled debut and the sophomore "Tones of Town" established them as direct descendents to the Ray Davies, Paul McCartney, Lindsay Buckingham and Neil Young school. More than that, they seemed to be a reponse, both lyrically and musically, to the music of those particular gentlemen. If they haven't seen the lofty heights of success achieved by some of their local contemporaries, it's not an indication of failure but a sign that what they aspire to might be something more sustainable; a longevity and a focus on the creative rather than the commercial.
The cup of love in the room tonight is truly overflowing - it's been a while since Field Music hit the capital and when "Rockist" - from side project School of Language - is given an outing later on, the cheers will out the presence of the (many) hardcore Field Music fans in the house tonight. London's an ice rink right now yet almost all of those who help the show sell out back in December appear to have made it here despite travel problems and below zero temperatures.
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Before Field Music take the stage, shaggy Kiwi songster Lawrence Arabia kicks of proceedings with a set of quality psych-up Teenage Fanclub/Beta Band-ish numbers that - while hardly groundbreaking - are engaging and inventive, enough so to impress their label head Simon Raymonde (he of Bella Union) who stands smiling quietly amongst the throng.
So the Brewis brothers kick of with energised versions of 'Give It, Take It, Lose It' and 'A House Is Not A Home' from 'Tones of Town' - an album I really loved for its math-rock like beats, looping guitars and punctuating strings. I like the Jeff Lyne/George Martin influenced production to the sound that record too, which they actually manage to replicate live to a point.
The Brewises - complete with northern happy-go-luckyisms and a fine line in banter - are warm and engaging chaps, gently ribbing new boy bass player Ian Black from time to time and sparring with the audience like old friends as they change instruments after each tranche of songs.
'Clear Water' is the first in a bunch of tracks from their third long player 'Measure' to be played, mixing a whinging bluesy tone with a funk-Josh Homme vocal and some Stephen Morris style staccato beats.
The weak link in the chain tonight is the effortlessness of the whole thing - there's no sense of any urgency or struggle. With an audience already won-over before the show has even started, those more occasional (and less fanatical) appreciators are left feeling somewhat underwhelmed and even a little alienated. It's a minor criticism but I just kinda like it when people have to figuratively bleed onstage for my applause. But hey, that's me.
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