Reviewed by Paul H Birch, photos by Rich Ward
Mulling around in the audience in pairs, a young four piece formerly congregate on stage. Collectively their fashion sense doesn’t brand them as belonging in the same band, in fact you’d question if they went to the same school. Once they start performing, you see they’re well-schooled; they throw shapes, act ballsy being either in-your-face or indifferent as the mood strikes. The music is often turned up to 11 with a heavily distorted guitar at the forefront of the attack. The first track and another later come on like fat-assed blues rockers in a Royal Blood meets Kaiser Chiefs vein, others veer between lighter shadings and an apocalyptic psychedelic-tribal rock, the unlikely meeting of Coldplay, John Squire’s The Sea Horses and Killing Joke, albeit unintended, I’m sure.
It doesn’t always work, but there’s enough to intrigue you to maybe check out what they sound like on record. The long furry-coated singer, we presume to be Zac, has an effective voice pitched somewhere between pop singer Mika and a less theatrically-intense Justin Hawkins. They deliver some eight songs all told, the last seeing a crowd of hands in the air clapping along.
As the audience fills out to warmly encompass us, the room fades to black before red lights flash across the back wall as a throbbing sound emits outwards towards us from the stage. Drums interject, a morse code like interference as fiery guitars begin to bleed out. Then, a small white spotlight holds onto Oli Brown’s face as he cradles the microphone in his hands, singing tenderly into it, before pulling back to strike at his guitar as he and Sam Wood blast away on their six strings in dutiful noise rock between moodier atmospheric verses for opening number, ‘Father’, all the while Wayne Proctor precise as a metronome but with an added swing element, while not overplaying his drum kit.
I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Proctor a number of times, both with King King and Ben Poole; Wood’s responsible for one of my favourite guitar riffs of last year via his work with Wayward Sons, and he’s also served time with Black Star Riders. Head honcho Oli Brown’s more the anomaly for me, I knew he’d won British blues awards, formed the rock band Raveneye, and heard a couple of tracks here and there, but it was only on hearing the recent Epilogue EP that I realised here was something potentially very special, and have promptly worked my way back soaking in Oli Brown & The Dead Collective’s previous two EPs too, music that we’re about to hear in a different sonic mode live here tonight.
Thus stated, the next few numbers are probably the most mainstream in tonight’s set. ‘Everything You Want’ shuffles with a nod to Nirvana intermixed with prouder up-to-the-plate guitar playing as Brown utters a soulfully pop “Oh!” contrasting with darker delineated verse lines, most specifically “You were dangerous!” As Brown and Wood stand centre stage, hitting a hip groove, Brown takes a brief wiry guitar solo, returning to the mic for one final chorus and some significant applause. Cue more triggered sounds, a shimmering of cymbals and ‘Sinking Ship’ initially coming on like a sludgy blues rocker, then in turnabout with a whole gamut of hook-filled lyrics a much more sensual rhythm ensues.
Purple and white lights dip in and out eerily from the dark, impacting alongside what’s mainly Proctor’s snare leading the way through ‘Another Day Lost’. There’s a big classic rock riff given a dirty indie grind on this one, Brown’s voice pitched higher as he delivers the lyrics’ lines of desperation to “runaway”, then moving towards the front of centre stage as his guitar wails out in solo, Wood to his left striking rock star poses decades old but with an integrity that makes him look cool.
Next up, I believe we get a new song, ‘Goliath’. We’re offered Eastern-flavoured guitars across soundscapes that slowly bend towards hypnotic textures. It’s not a million miles away from the silk roads Robert Plant would take us down, but filled with a lot more rage in parts vocally.
Various coloured lights flicker as Proctor offers a jazzy rhythm, deep broken chords frame the picture, lit by a tearful guitar melody and the song that ensues, ‘I Won’t Leave’ is a soulful lullaby. On the new Epilogue EP, it’s remarkably similar in style to Proctor’s King King, but live – as with many of the songs I’m becoming familiar with – they take on a more embryonic form; perhaps because they’ve developed since recording, part ongoing improvisation, and likely the live use of two guitars but absence of bass creating different dynamics. Here the song takes on stirring epic mannerisms, imbued with inner conflicts, heartbreak and cathartic wellbeing redemption vocally, Brown lets rip with a particularly wailing cry prior to a chorus return wherein liquid lines of guitar continue to break out, and with a series of final power chords, the lines “We can make it if we try.”
We return to dimmed lights, and a fixed keyboard sound emitting. I accept this can illicit mood but eight numbers in, and without any stage banter, it becomes a bit much. Much more interesting is the progressive rock sound developing as the trio shift through various sultry themes, suddenly changing focus towards a more staccato AOR rock stance as an empowered rendition of ‘Haunted’ is played out, followed by much applause, and the words “Thank you!” heard from the stage. Next, guitars get atmospheric then steer into raging drive rock for what I gather’s another new number, and may go by the handle ‘Estranged’, certainly in attempting to decipher the garbled notes I’ve made they would seem to indicate they’d fit.
Aptly, ‘Heard It All Before’ follows with Brown’s right thumb seemingly used as plectrum, delivering a shrugging boogie. Wood joins as they chug down, then riff-up machismo-like come the chorus. Wood continues to throw all the right poses, constantly smiling, looking like he’s genuinely having a great time, and when again standing centre stage with Brown, the titular-leader’s own face is seen smiling back at him, as we sense they’re on the home run now. We get a “Thank you, very much!” on its completion, and told that “We’ve got a couple more left for you.”
Brown’s guitar rings out lightly, notes picked between blues licks as ‘Your Love’ commences, and we’re told it’s like “a noose around my neck.” Such tales of despair are not for everyone, but those gathered here with me have no such qualms. As Proctor and Wood come in there’s an intensity of sound, most particularly from the drums, with much drama and despair issued in this heavy blues, not a million miles removed from the music of the late Jeff Buckley, in its quieter sections.
Echoed Floydian notes fly out about the room, they’re followed by a deeper full-on band sound, with crashing chords from one guitar, pinging arpeggios from another amid hefty deft rolls around the drum kit, then there is the squelching and bleeding of guitar licks from Brown before he begins to sing tonight’s final number, ‘Home Sweet Home’ wherein a warm vocal delivery tells what becomes a cold tale.
These are pithy poetic lyrics of youth passing, then turning your back on all you thought counted in life, the music pitching itself in equal measure to the rage and pain felt then turning towards gentler asides of reflection. Again, the guitarists stand beside each other, as a lengthy instrumental section ensues, first Brown soloing, then Wood, before green lights flood the stage as they trade licks, and with one final rush of chords, the final too-brief stage salutations; another “Thank you, very much!” before calling out Proctor and Wood by name, and with a “Thank you so much!” they’re off and away.
A man of few words to his audience, but those he delivers in song swimming deep with emotion. The intimate environment of this venue suited Ollie & The Dead Collective’s live performance well. Different than on record, taking some chances, the overall experience a worthy one, with many absolutely crushing it.
