Aereogramme The Delgados

It was something of a relief to find that there was, indeed, a rhyme or reason for the pairing of these very different bands on a single bill: previously, I had assumed that either the manic depressive loud/soft rockers in Aereogramme had wept and threatened their way onto the tour, or that The Delgados assumed that Aereogramme's rawk lead-in would keep energized fans from drifting off to sleep during their own gentler set.

So it was nationalist ties, as opposed to my more elaborate explanations, that led to this tour; in any case, it proved to be a nicely balanced set of performances, interspersed with colorful (not to say profane) commentary from the talented Scots on stage.

I arrived just after Aereogramme took the stage, and as I emerged into the newly smoke-free, post-Bloomberg Bowery Ballroom, the first thing that occurred to me was just how much Craig B. resembled Doug Martsch (beard-wise, not guitar-stylings-wise). The second thing was that Aereogramme's bassist Campbell McNeil is the product of some sort of genetic/national stereotyping experiment in the production of archetypes (you can catch his "Burly Scotsman" going toe-to-toe with Jarvis Cocker's "Pasty, Gangly, Weird-Looking British Sex Symbol" in a pay-per-view "Battle of the Grudging Royal Subjects").

The third thing I noticed was that there were a few things to which I had grown accustomed in the Aereogramme sound that were missing in this performance. The most obvious? One word: volume. It's not like they were quiet or anything, but the overwhelming wall of keyboard-washed loud to which I have become accustomed when blasting their brilliant A Study In White through my head on the subway was either not possible, or not on the agenda for the Bowery sound system. Granted, to achieve proper noiseosity, several of the forward-positioned audience members might have had to lose some significant portion of their hearing, but what's rock and roll without sacrifice?

In any case, the lack of volume hurt the set's effect somewhat, as did the inability of the laptop, with which they had entrusted the keyboard parts, to be heard over the two guitars. Still, the group proved, in a live context, that they're among the best there is at going, to quote Elvis Costello, "from a whisper to a scream". The group's energy level oscillates between tightly-wound threat and full-out primal scream, and while you wouldn't want to be a heckler at an Aereogramme show (the moron who screamed "You suck!" just before the group's final song was treated to a full-on verbal ass-handing by Craig), you'd definitely want to be an appreciative fan, insufficient volume levels and all.

The Delgados took the stage about a half-hour after their opening act's insane, scream-drenched onstage mosh of a closer, and the atmosphere they brought with them couldn't have seemed more refined in comparison. When her guitar string broke midway through the first song, vocalist Emma Pollock stopped the song, apologized, and restarted; I got the feeling that Aereogramme, in similar circumstances, would have chewed through the offending guitar with their teeth, and then screamed about it.

For those who missed it, the Delgados' brilliant 2000 album The Great Eastern is pretty much a must-own, and the songs from it that the band played sounded as rich live as they did under the ministrations of producer Dave Fridmann. While the band's membership tops out at four, there were nine (count 'em) musicians on stage to reproduce the lush textures that have become their stock-in-trade, including keyboards, flutes and a three-person string section. The group's new album, represented live by able tracks like the bouncy, snotty (current single) "All You Need Is Hate", appear to continue in the same high-quality vein, with vocal duties alternating between and sometimes shared by Pollock and co-guitarist Alun Woodward. The group has a unique ability to sound dulcet and light, using the strengths of sweetly sung boy-girl vocals without ever sounding precious or twee, a combination of abilities that is quite something to behold.

I left before the end of the show, because it was late, and I'm getting old. This should not, however, reflect in any way on either of the excellent bands I had enjoyed that evening, nor on the bonny heather of the highlands they call home.

Article and photos by Brett McCallon.