Well on its way to becoming an cult institution amongst London club nights, the infancy of The Allotment has seen the likes of Nashville's Caitlin Rose, the luminous Allessi's Ark and new folk troubadour Tristram gracing its stage. With a DIY ethos, the night is the product of Anika (blogger and impressario in the making) and Lynn (one of the genii behind the wonderful For Folk's Sake website).
Planting itself, if you'll excuse the pun, for the first time in
Camden's Black Heart bar (a stones throw from the infamous World's End),the room is bedecked with homemade comics, cupcakes and lots and lots of hand-drawn bees. I would imagine it's rare that a visiting band gets so much attention and hospitality - a trademark of what makes The Allotment such a unique enterprise.
Brooklyn was to 2009 what Manchester was to most of the 80's (and I think either Portland, Oregan or Canda will be to 2010) and She Keeps Bees represent to me one of the more interesting acts to emerge from under the rubble of Vampire Weekend. Pimped around last year by prestigious London folk promoters The Local, they're back on British soil for round two of the European invasion. Tonight, they're prefaced by Lulu and the Lampshades, playing a homespun folksy pop that radiates with the late nineties twee obsession, and the thumping trio of Peggy Sue.
As the rooms fills, engaging and sultry Bees frontlady Jessica Larribee falls onto the stage through the gaps in the capacity crowd. Larribee - equal parts James Brown, Screaming Jay Hawkins and PJ Harvey in flannel and wool - inspires lust and adoration alike from both genders in the audience. She is both vocal and extraordinarly animated whenever I've seen her play live - a stark contrast to drummer Andy LaPlant, the Meg White of the partnership. That's where the White Stripes comparisons end, mind you. If Jack white's heroes were Son House and Led Zepplin then Larribee's are probably Patti Smith and Howlin Wolf.
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Their set hives the core of debut longplayer "Nests", a dusty gem
amongst 2009's embarrassment of musical riches. While it's a very competant record, it can't match the spasms of raw emotion and personality of the live Larribee. I've seen Accapella "Ribbon" performed four times now and it never fails to astound. Standout "Release" features a draggy guitar, some sensational battering from LaPlant and a sexy-as-hell refrain from Larribee.
The most impressive thing about this melding of voice, guitar and
drums is how the combination - equally weighted - adds up to so much more than the constituent parts. Larribee's personality may dominate above all else but the songs - which are barely introduced or named - stand alone as strong, confident expressions of thunderous rock'n'roll.
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