The mellifluous strumming of the acoustic guitar, the melancholy timbre of the violin, the pulse of the pounding drum; a poignant atmosphere spans the Gustaf Adolfs Kyrka church. Although BIRD are a 6 piece band, they flow together like one contingent unit, each instrument coherently complementing their counterparts.
Their brooding marque of lovelorn folk is balanced around their uncanny ability to create spatial atmospheres, from the melancholy of ‘Phantoms’ to the ethereality of ‘Bones’; their focus is on the interpretation of aura, as opposed the predictability of melody. As the echoing bellows of Adele Emmas (singer) reverberate around the pyres of the Scandinavian church, the religious discourse of the venue is erased, and in it’s place lies an encouraging new prospect for Liverpool’s music scene.
Embellishing the stage with pastiches of melodramatic popular song from the late Jacques Brel, DEAD BELGIAN accurately capture the essence of his theatrical framework whilst subsuming it with folk ideologies. This product of mestizaje combines Jacques' allure with eccentric tonalities courtesy of an according and a saxophone, each highlighting singer Fionnuala Dorrity’s dramaturgical temperament. With songs such as ‘Les Bourgeoisie’ littered with key changes, attentive listening is a reoccurring theme during this trio’s set; a set which, for all its seemingly unoriginal tendencies, holds a character of its own.
Trendy is the type of adjective that is defined by opinion, whereas some perceive it to be a positive attribute; defining all that is vogue, others view it as an encumbrance. It is the type of adjective that only bands without a self-sufficient identity should aspire (or rather adhere) to, a supposed feat that HANNAH PEEL will never achieve due to her unique presence and virtuosity.
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Opening her set accorded with a musical box; the subtle tones are used in conjunction with her delicate voice to promulgate her cerebral and effervescent nature. As other instruments are inaugurated to the mise-en-bande, the musical box, an instrument that is dormant within contemporary music, fights for sonic space, with it’s vintage tones evoking ageless sensibilities. This employment verses an unintentional statement of authenticity, with Hannah Peel’s ilk of vibrant, yet traditional folk-pop possessing sovereignty within an industry continually striving for generic consistency.
“Thanks for coming down, I knew I had a lot of competition from Westlife tonight” she announces with a wry smile; although she possesses this light-hearted magnetism, her music is seasoned with openly personal and introspective lyrics. Performing songs such as the enchanting ‘Song For The Sea’, the only organ that Hannah rewards more than the ears is the heart. Beginning her career in Liverpool, she has spread her endearing wings; one album (and a cover of 'Tainted Love' appearing on a macabre gum disease advert) later and she is fast on her way to becoming a folk luminary.
Ending the night with the engaging ‘Almond Tree’, it validates the mantra; you don’t realise how good something is until it’s gone.
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