| HEATHER NOVA / LEE GRIFFITHS The Zodiac They’re delicate little souls these pop star types. There’s a no-smoking rule in force tonight which is decidedly un-rock & roll. It must be down to Ms Nova because I can’t see Lee Griffiths standing for any of that namby pampy nonsense. He’s a Mancunian scally of the first order, the sort of fella whose pint you’d be very careful not to spill. But when he sings he’s transformed into a precious, gentle folk angel with a voice that betrays his laddish exterior. Fleeting glimpses of Don McLean, Jeff Buckley and John Martyn hover over maudlin folksy melodies which he gently coaxes from his acoustic guitar. Every tough nut has a soft centre it would seem. Nothing big or hard about the waif-like Heather Nova who's so small and frail looking you almost expect her to fall into a faint at any moment through the effort of having to carry her guitar on stage. Appropriately there’s little that’s dangerous about her music - grunge-tinged folk cut through with warm, dark atmospherics courtesy of an imposing cello, the saddest instrument of them all. Heather’s voice carries the whole thing, performing gentle acrobatics over discreet pop melodies. The problem is,that while she avoids the pitfalls that make the likes of Alanis Morrissette and Sheryl Crow so damn annoying, she lacks the sparkle or the songwriting strength of Tanya Donnelly or the sheer heartbreaking beauty of Heidi Berry. Little stands out from a set of pleasant but hardly striking slow-to-medium-paced folk ballads. Hardly surprising that she’s sold over three quarters of a million albums in the States where they like their angst without too much trauma. No chance of Heather blowing her head off in the conservatory. She probably couldn’t stand all that gun smoke. Sue Foreman LIBERTY 37 / WAVE 27 The Zodiac Music by numbers anyone? Or just any excuse for a cheap opening shot. That sound you can hear? That’s next door’s dog laughing. And that high-pitched howling? That’s the vocalist from Wave 27 attempting to sing in tune. Sadly he appears to have strangled himself in the process. Wave 27’s loose dynamics give them the grace of a lame donkey while the wretched harmonies merely detract from the bolshy Shadows guitar twang. The penultimate number is a feisty wah-wah fest that come close to hitting the target but they spoil it by trying to be clever. The last song is called ‘Much Better’ which suggests they at least know what they need to be. No such problems with Swansea’s Liberty 37, even if they look more like a gang of mismatched brickies than a band. Skinhead singer Ish though is an engaging performer, oblivious to the small audience’s initial disinterest, convulsing and twitching and acting like an overwrought child. Everything in Liberty 37’s world is epic, each song clocking in at least six minutes and stretched skywards by slow grinding grunge powerchords and a simmering lake of noise that never quite boils over. The overall effect is of a lightweight steamroller mashing Pearl Jam into jelly. Ish’s angst-torn growl echoes Eddie Vedder’s primal howl and there are scary moments when a couple of songs threaten to turn into ‘Even Flow’. Liberty 37, though, never lose touch with the idea of pop, for all their Homeric expansiveness and carve out a niche that is individual enough to add something to a crowded genre. ‘This is like being at home in Swansea - so thankyou for your indifference’ Ish half jokingly snarls and you genuinely feel they deserved better. Time will bring them their just rewards. Ron Miel |
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