Saturday was one of the final outings for the Moulettes' Bears Revenge album, at a gig in Islington town hall that also had Josienne Clarke and Ben Walker on the bill. And it was an amazing night: I took two friends who hadn't seen Moulettes before and by the end they were both slightly dazed by the sheer volume and energy of the thing, which some might say defies description. However, I am characteristically undeterred...
It's got a folky vibe while consisting only of original songs, but with more energy on one stage than you'd normally get in an entire folk festival: something that Shepley got around nicely by booking them this year. Comparisons with Bellowhead and The Destroyers are apt because at one stage there were 15 of them playing - not even including Arthur Brown, who appeared in full make-up towards the end. But neither Bellowhead nor The Destroyers have a bassoonist in a dirndl, or the majority of their melody lines played by a cello and a fiddle. And it's all about the girls. When they really let rip they have a touch of the Indigo Girls about them, musically speaking, exploding with colour and romance: imagery piles on top of swooping, banging, melodies in such a way that you feel you're being taken on a magical journey to a place they found themselves. As it turns out,this is entirely what they had in mind.
They're also extremely playful, something that got them into hot water in Liverpool, where they have a hard-earned reputation as sexually deviant pagans. But there was a disturbing rumour going around that Ruth Skipper - of the dirndl, the bassoon and, just recently, the Bride-of-Frankenstein-style hairdo - would be leaving the band at the end of this tour, due to commitments to her medical career: she is a qualified doctor.
"But I'm not going," she said.
Yay!
"We did loads of auditions, including several French people who couldn't understand our lyrics. So we were treated to their interpretations of our lyrics instead, which was, um, interesting."
But there was no bassoon-playing, dirndl-wearing Bride-of-Frankenstein-a-like among them?
"Not a one. But I'm not wearing the dirndls any more. Haven't you noticed?"
Sorry. I guess they left a pretty big impression.
"Well, I'm not wearing the dirndls any more because I'm trying to move away from the whole folky thing."
I see.
"But I've got 15 of them. So it's hard to imagine they're gone forever," she added. "We may actually have found a replacement for me of sorts, but she doesn't play the bassoon."
So in what sense is she a replacement?
"She sings."
Excellent. I'd wondered whether the pianist - Matt Gest? - who'd appeared that evening might be up to the job because he had the whole bass range going on. Not that a piano packs quite the same punch as a bassoon at full, buzzing volume.
"No... My replacement would have to be a girl," she grinned.
So the girl in the dirndl with the doom stick and the badger-flashes in her hair is completely irreplaceable: who'd've thunk it? But how she's going to combine touring the forthcoming new album with a full surgery rotation in Brighton next year is anyone's guess
In one other nice piece of news, it turns out that Hannah's mum has something in common with John Spier's dad, in the sense that both took up their offspring's instruments after hearing and appreciating the success that was being made of them. So there are, presumably, now two fabulous cellists in the Miller family.
* Stop press: I understand there are, in fact, three cellists in Hannah's family, as her sister Esther also plays.
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I'm afraid I haven't really considered the whys and wherefores of who gets the money from Spotify, though I understand it's not a very good deal for the musicians. However, in my defence I own CDs with nine out of ten of these songs on it - the exception being the theme from The Hobbit. And this is the case because I harbour an atavistic fear, probably born from growing up in the 1980s under the terror of imminent nuclear armageddon, that one day iTunes will simply change the terms and conditions for its online music (contained in one of those enormous legal documents that you never read before ticking the box at the bottom) and I'll lose everything I've ever bought from them.
Give me a CD every time. Though Spotify is good for hearing new stuff...
When my friends sit around in the Glamour Cave I play them whatever I'm excited about that week, hoping to elucidate a similar reaction. It's the musical equivalent of jumping up and down on a desert island waving and shouting "Hey! Are there any humans out there?" This is the same thing on a larger scale.
It's been fun to do. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I immediately put another one together, thinking that I might do one each month. So roll on December.
There should be ten on there, though for some reason ahab doesn't seem to have shown up on my preview (why?). Anyway, let me know what you think.
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Word from the front: specifically Shepley spring festival, whose meagre springlike aspects are in immediate danger of being splattered by a wheelspin of muddy field. And yet what of it, I hear you say?
For Moulettes, who absolutely electrified the main tent on Friday night, recently got a review in the Liverpool Echo that they won't forget in a hurry.
Much as I enjoy watching Ruth Skipper, who bears an uncanny resemblence to Velma from Scooby Doo, wearing a dirndl and playing a bassoon - or "doom stick" as she rather knowingly refers to it - the guy from the Echo was evidently even more overwhelmed.
"The review said we were sexually deviant pagans," she giggled, doom stick dangling. "And it wasn't even a busy night," added Hannah Miller.
Read all about it hereand decide how muchof itwas going on in the head of the reviewer. For instance the, um, French horn (which is presumably what he thought the bassoon was).
If that doesn't pack 'em in, I don't know what will...
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Seeing the Keston Cobblers Club for the first time at The Lantern Societyaround a year agoI was struck by three things about them. Firstly, they had a homespun quality that I found a tiny bit twee. Second, they were nonetheless very good in a catchy way. And thirdly, there was something rather harder to define about them that made me want to see them again. A kind of knowing exactly what they were doing quality that was relaxing and exciting at the same time. The audience was safe in their hands, on a mystery tour.
The homespun-ness I eventually put my finger on as the fashion for retro, vintage, recycled and crafty handmade things which, on reflection, is a logical response to being young and relatively poor during a massive recession. For a better sense of what I'm on about, think also of the Moulettes with their handmade stage set, Mumford & Sons in their waistcoats with their old-fashioned name, bunting at gigs and those posters that say "Keep calm and carry on". Better, surely, to look to the past for an aesthetic, implicitly asking yourself what other people did under similarly difficult circumstances, instead of going "Woe is me" and disappearing up your own fundament. This fashion is a practical response, I think: making the best of a bad lot. A kind of regrouping.
However, it also speaks of a do-it-yourself attitude arising from knowing no one is going to invite you to be successful because these days so few are.
Since then several Keston Cobblers' Club videos flung themselves in my path and made me admire them, I've explored the rest of their oeuvre on YouTube and then I saw them play live on Monday night at Blacks in Soho at a gig organised by the wonderfully named Society of the Golden Slippers that also featured Blair Dunlop - yay! - and talked to them. Now I'm massively impressed and can't wait to see what happens to them next. It seems to me that they're teetering on the edge of something pretty big. Maybe you'll see what I mean...
If you like that, listen also to this version, which is equally good in a different way.
Here's the basics: Jules, 28, with the blonde hair and her brother Matthew, 24, who sings and can learn to play a new instrument in a day, grew up in Bromley along with Tom, 25, and Harry, 24. "I'm an anomaly," said Bethan, who plays tuba, went to the Royal College of Music and is from the midlands. "When I found out she'd been to music school I snapped her up," said Jules.
There's a story about a cobbler that goes with the name.
And I had formed an impression before I met them that they'd had some sage advice on how to navigate their way through the mess that is the modern music industry. Several things had provoked this, including the fact that they had a Burberry deal...
Also I'd read on their website that they'd been snapped up by Quest music management - which manages Sir Paul McCartney and Arcade Fire. Then when I spoke to them, Jules said nonchalantly that they'd "supported Seth Lakeman and Bastille quite early on".
But how did that happen?
"Well," said Jules. "We pestered people and sent them things. Steve Lamacq at Radio 6: we sent him a CD in a wax sealed envelope... we also sent it to about 300 other people. But he picked us up."
But how did you know that was the way to approach it?
"I'm a graphic designer," she said simply - as is Harry - and she studied the subject at college, which I guess implies an immersion in all the soft skills that go into promotion and marketing. When you put this together with Bethan, who was in events management for classical music until quite recently, they have the pretty much the exact skill set - on top of making great music - that you would need in order to promote a band. This process is not, after all, magic.
In particular their videos are great. "Because of what I do for a living, I know that it's easier to listen to something if you're also watching something," Jules said. "We made them ourselves."
A couple of them play with the idea of age - For Words (above, it won an award) and Your Mother - using relatively elderly actors as their focus. What's that about? "Ha! That's my great aunt Audrey and uncle Charles. We're hoping to get a trilogy out of them," she laughed. "I think that a lot of people I know are really scared of getting old. But my mum had a bad accident about three years ago and ever since I've been a bit like "Yes! We're all still here! It's amazing!' And I find I get a bit annoyed with people who are scared of getting old."
So what's going on with Quest? (And this is the part that really gripped me: reading that they'd been taken on by Quest was a bit like reading that someone you know had been scooped up by King Kong...)
"Ah yes, Quest." Bethan and Jules looked at each other as if this were the part of the conversation they hadn't been looking forward to. "Well," said Jules. "We were signed with Quest and then on Friday we parted ways." This was on Monday and we were sitting in the corner at Blacks before their gig.
Oh dear. What happened?
"There was a three-month probationary period. But the person from the agency, she was a bit younger than we'd been hoping. It's a bit of a touchy subject but we thought it was important to say that it was our decision, so it didn't look like we were kicked off. Because we weren't."
But surely being attached to Quest would open all kinds of doors?
"You'd think so. But she was on their young management scheme. A manager can completely change the balance of a band, its whole direction and shape. She was a lovely, lovely girl but it didn't work and you've got to be quite fussy about management because they're part of the band. She had slightly different taste in music to us..."
Bethan took up the reins: "We do have quite high standards and we've got a specific idea about what our brand is, which is something that Jules has worked quite hard on. We have to aim high and this was only our first management experience."
Jules: "We don't want to piss off Quest because they're incredibly powerful in the industry. But they have a young management scheme for small bands. It's just that in our case it was a bit too small. We didn't get the Burberry thing as a result of Quest, we didn't get Glastonbury through them either. We need a manager who can do everything we can do and something else as well. If Quest would have us, we'd certainly be willing to try something else..."
In fact Bethan, Jules and Matthew have all recently given up their day jobs in order to go full time with the band, are getting a bus and are heading out on their first UK tour quite soon, supporting The Leisure Society. They're also about to make another video and are looking for volunteers to be in it, so if you think you might be interested keep an eye on their Facebook page. The Heights of Lola (first video on this post) was the result of the last shout out.
Other things you might like to know about the Keston Cobblers' Club include that Jules has a definite thing about Sam Beam from Iron and Wine, so much so that their next single is called Beam. "I'm hoping that one day we'll get to support him if we write about him enough," she said in a casting-her-bread-upon-the-water kind of a way.
Also, three out of the five band members play the trumpet to at least grade eight standard because they went to a school in Bromley that was a feeder for a brass band.
And, brilliantly, there is a spare tuba player called Dan hovering around somewhere and every outfit should have a spare tuba player. Their fat, brassy whump quite often reminds me of a colliery band: audible flashes of nostalgia. Like Bellowhead and Mumford & Sons they often play up tempo tunes that make you want to jump up and down with a stupid grin on your face: in fact, the more I think about it the more convinced I become that being up tempo is the secret to folky success because people like to be cheered up more than they like to be reflective. They can, after all, be reflective without leaving the house...
So the question is probably what the Keston Cobblers Club would like to happen next? Their response is practical.
"We're looking for someone to do bookings for us - and possibly a PR because it's getting to point at which we can't do everything ourselves time-wise. But the main thing is that we'd like a good manager: someone who knows the industry. We're looking for a head cobbler," said Jules.
Then they went off and did a really brilliant gig.
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Talking to Hannah Miller, the Moulettes' cellist and lyricist, I was aware that she kept expecting me to misunderstand her. "A lot of people don't get this..." she said at one point. "No scrub that, that sounds mad..." at another. She even offered to write her thoughts down for me, lest I was unable to do them justice aurally.
Because in her mind there is an epic story unfolding. More of that in a minute, but first a few basics.
I was handed a small pile of Moulettes CDs the other day by a promoter called Joe Cushley, who was at The Lantern Society in Clerkenwell, and got simultaneously invited to a gig. Listening to the CDs, I liked them a lot and intended to go along. But it was in Brighton (where most of the band lives) and on the day I wasn't feeling 100 per cent. Then I got a text message from Joe saying that the added filip that had spurred me to agree to go to the Las Vegas of the South Coast wouldn't be available for interview. So me and my inner sloth gave in and stayed home.
However, the more I listened to this band - and in particular to their second album, The Bear's Revenge, to be launched in July - the more I liked them (a process that continues to this day). And then, upon consideration, it became obvious that I should do something about it sooner rather than later. Because sometimes it's good to be first.
So here's the thing. The "added filip" had been that Ted Dwane, Mumford and Sons' bass player, was supposed to be at the Brighton gig and I'd hoped to have a word. As it turned out he wasn't able to make it because Britain's second most lucrative export with the initials M&S had over-run at the London studio where they're recording their second album.
What a shame, I thought, first assuming that mentioning him had been a ploy on the part of the promoter to get me to the gig. Though there was a nagging doubt because if it had been done with any cynicism, surely Joe wouldn't have texted me to let me know Ted couldn't make it?
Anyway, I now realise Ted Mumford wasn't being dangled as a PR bauble. He's listed as a band member on the CD cover, which eventually arrived a week or so later, so I think I'd been under-sold rather than over-sold.
As a result of the Mumford connection I'd imagine there's going to be a bit of a hoo-hah about the Moulettes in the mainstream media pretty soon. And I'd also imagine that the band knows it.
This because one of the Moulettes, Ruth Skipper (bassoon, vocals), is doing her medical finals at the moment but has decided to have a year out from doctoring because it looks as if this might turn out to be the band's big year - and that's not a decision to be taken lightly. "Having a doctor with us encourages my hypercondria," said Hannah. "I'll say to her 'What is this pain in my heart?' And she'll say," there was a pause for dramatic effect, "'You ate your food too quickly'."
Other clues include that they are booked to play the Mumfords' Gentlemen of the Road mini-festivals in Huddersfield and Galway in a couple of months' time and that - this is where I came in - they've just made a brilliant album.
It has the multi-instrumental virtuosity of Bellowhead, the urgency of Mumford & Sons - though without the lyrical directness (they haven't fucked anything up this time) - and the winding, melodic complexity of The Indigo Girls. It also has something unique that I was having trouble putting my finger on.
"I really enjoy fantasy realms," said Hannah. "Not crap fantasy, like lurid album covers with wizards on them. But going to other worlds, like you do in Lord of the Rings, Narnia and Philip Pullman. The songs draw on this love." We'd been speaking for a while but when I asked whether she was watching Game of Thrones, it was as if I'd taken all the tension out of the situation by mentioning the thing that she really wanted to talk about. I'd hit the main vein.
"Yes! I'm so glad you brought it up. We love it. It's amazing." I love it too - what's not to like about Lord of the Rings with shagging? So we talked about how that dwarf rocks, that it was a shame that Drogo the horse warrior had to die and how I was really missing out by not having seen any of season two yet.
"That show is like crack," she said, correctly.
Anyway, it turns out that many of the songs on The Bear's Revenge are part of a fantasy narrative that Hannah's inventing: she's writing her own mythological world through songs. "I also weave tapestries. I make them out of fabric and buttons and things. But the funny thing about fantasy is that there is a certain snobbery about it - as if it might not be real or good," she mused. Here's one of her tapestries, which is also artwork for the album. That might or might not be a dragon.
In a way the aesthetic of the Moulettes is like the title sequence of Game of Thrones: all hand-made with a theme containing swooping fiddles and cellos. Apparently several forthcoming videos will involve animating Hannah's tapestries. I must stop dwelling...
So where did the Moulettes come from? "The band started with Ruth and me when we were at school and we've picked people up along the way. We were both at school with Ted." Millfield public school in Somerset, as it turns out. "Ruth and I were both music scholars, so we didn't get out much, and I had a free haircut one day that turned into a mullet. We were joking that it was a moule-ette."
These days there are six full time members. "Myself, Oliver, Ruth, Georgina, Jim and Rob. But there are nine who can call themselves Moulettes. It's very much like an extended family. Ted was in the band until three or four years ago, until things with his other band started taking off. But it's been great having him back again. He worked on the second record with us.
"And while he was touring the States," during which Mumford & Sons were said to have cracked America, "he made some great finds. For instance, he sent us this extraordinary mandolin and banjo player called Matt Menefee who came all the way down to Winchester one day. We picked him up at the station and he did a day's session work for us. He plays progressive bluegrass."
There are lots of trad instruments on the record and Hannah describes the band's sound as "rock, pop, fantasy folk". The fiddle player, Georgina, plays folk and blue-grass, as well as sometimes making noises so assured that her classical training shows through. "She went to the Royal Northern. But Ollie (drums, vocals, guitar, banjo) is completely self-taught and Laura (Hockenhull on vocals) is a real folk-singer. She grew up in a folky family, singing with some of the Unthanks." Hannah's own father is a folk musician who makes musical instruments for a living.
And then there's this. On Friday Laura, whose partner is Ben Copper, gave birth to the newest member of The Copper Family. "Yes! We've got a tiny little Moule baby. I haven't seen her yet but her name's Georgia Rose."
Their fecundity knows no limits. Despite The Bear's Revenge not being officially launched yet, Hannah said she'd be recording some stuff for the next album as soon as we put the phone down, something which is possible, she said, because they have many years' worth of material to fall back on. She's in her late twenties now, so that's probably a decade's worth.
They've got a single out called Sing Unto Me.
"I was thinking about the Nordic mythology of singing the world into being. In the Bible it's The Word, in Narnia the lion sings the world into being. It's about the idea of the world being born and dying in a blaze of harmony," said Hannah.
And there's this, which gives you a bit more of an idea what they're like when they can hear each other.
I should think there'll be some more from them along shortly. I'm going to finally get to a Moulettes gig for a start.
In the mean time, here's that Game of Thrones title sequence in full.
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