Review: Gogo Penguin, Old Crown Court

I don’t know what the plan is for the Old Crown Court but I’d be happy if they just leave it as it is: a retro monument to squat parties. Peeling walls, dangling wires and a general sense of abandonment make it a nicely atmospheric place for live music. On the other hand this is the second time I’ve been crushed into claustrophobia in the main room so maybe its not without shortcomings.

Without Marie Lister, their usual vocalist, and facing a room so chilly that they kept their coats on Duval Project might have seemed up against it but any concern was dispelled in seconds when their hard rocking R’n’B machine kicked in and guest singer Phil King let loose a classic soul vocal for Just Do It. The sound was a bit crunchy but the energy was fine and Gary Alesbrook’s FX-modulated  flugelhorn cut a fine swathe through the mix. 

The band were dance floor tight, Danny Cox’s hard and fast drum and Richie Blake’s bass never missed a beat and keyboard player Andy Novak’s monkishly hooded figure provided the atmosphere for the tunes. He drove through a particularly fine bridging moment straight out of the Stevie Winwood Facebook, a dirty descending riff that broke out into a cracking funk number to a whoosh of applause.

By the time Gogo Penguin were on stage the claustrophobia was beginning to kick in, the crowd sardine-packed for a glimpse of the Mercury-nominated ‘jazz meets electronica’ trio. Personally I don’t get the electronica reference, as Chris Illingworth’s piano sounded just like a piano and ditto for Nick Blacka’s bass and Rob Turner’s drums. There was no doubting their allegiance to dance music, however, and that’s why they were here playing to a packed crowd under whirling club lights rather than a room over a pub.

Matthew Halsall’s Gondwana label’s sound is fairly well established now: modal jazz riffs over tidily busy drum and bass, spacious music to dream, drive or dance to. Opening with Murmuration Gogo Penguin fitted the mould to perfection, as the simple three-chord piano part unfolded, drums tiskered with hints of d’n’b and the bass meandered. Like the aerobatic starlings that inspired the piece each player seemed to be in his own space yet locked together with the tune as it built and broke.

Numbers like Kamaloka showed them at their best, Nick Blacka’s gymnastic fingers wrenching an impressive 7-time solo, the piano retained and biding while the the drums told their own story through subtle inflections. In fact it became clear how much Turner’s drumming is the essential key to the music’s crossover appeal and quality – the focused discipline of his playing was both predictable and evolving throughout, recalling Get The Blessing’s Clive Deamer with its dance groove vocabulary.

Only in the encore – a forceful reading of Hopopono – did things let rip, pleasingly, as the stately EST-like anthem boiled into some energetic group chaos, but even this never let the beats slip. It’s a winning formula they have, however – keep it simple and keep it going – and this happy crowd would clearly be back for more next time they come to town.