Music / rock
Review: The Heavy, Trinity
Many bands nowadays have been infected with the need to sell themselves directly to fans via paid VIP “experiences” and meet & greets, now classified as ‘Gene Simmons syndrome’ by the WHO* (after the erstwhile Kiss bass player. A man so arrogant and greedy he probably believes he can turn a profit bottling and selling his own farts). Eric Burton, singer for The Black Pumas, is immune. He popped out into the audience early doors and personally greeted several dozen people, introducing himself and the band. The conversations were sincere, refreshing & well received and no money changed hands.
Twenty minutes later The Black Pumas stormed the stage, winning over the crowd virtually from the off. Opening with Next to You (and a few outrageous shapes), Burton led the band through a half dozen retro soul tunes zinging with a fresh, modern sensibility. He was relatively static for at least the first minute and a half before busting the stage open with a forty-minute, one-man Temptations impersonation, covering their vocal range and best dance moves effortlessly.
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An (almost) frenetic bundle of energy; he grooved with the band, smooched with the backing vocalists and bounded into the crowd, all without missing a note. Hell, he even led the crowd in the resurrection of his guitar, which mysteriously “died” as Next to You segued into Colors.
The Black Pumas themselves built a sublime soul foundation for Burton’s performance – no mere backing band, they were solid as a rock, groovy as fuck. Adrian Quesada had the chicken scratch Cropper rhythm guitar thang down pat, but let loose stinging solos, really flew on Colors and riffed with abandon during Eleanor Rigby. The rhythm section (Stephen Bidwell, drums & Vince Chiarito, bass) was ridiculously tight, delivering driving dance beats for the up-tempo numbers, yet effortlessly loose and laid back on the slower numbers. A machine tooled performance of less-is-more soul funk grooves.
Organ and keyboards took it to the church constantly: decorative fills, swelling chords and solos to compliment the guitar. Eleanor Rigby saw Jaron Marshall go head to head with Quesada for a heavy riff duel that transformed the song. The backing vocalists (Lauren Hornsby & Angela Miller) went above and beyond: not just decorative, not just supporting the lead, but full on harmonies – a real presence on stage. The a cappella conclusion of Eleanor Rigby was quite sublime, a goose bumps moment despite the sweaty heat generated over the preceding five tunes.
The Black Pumas have generated a lot of attention back home in Austin, Texas and although they’ve been discovered by Rolling Stone, they’d already built a solid following through relentless live work and word of mouth. They have the songs and they have the live chops to go far. To be honest, in front of a less partisan crowd, they would have stolen the show. Yet the crowd was generous in their support and the band complimented the headliners beautifully.
The Heavy have just released their fifth album Sons, this sold out show was part of the first phase of touring said LP and they’re back at SWX in November. Spoiler alert – they were fucking sensational (despite technical hitches) and the next show will sell out.
Let’s dispose of the hitch straight away. After a blistering run of four songs, Dan Taylor’s guitar pedal board was kaput. His best guitar had already been swiped in that London (“Motherfucking London motherfuckers – shit like that don’t happen in the south west” boasted front man Kelvin Swaby to resounding cheers). Five minutes turned in to ten minutes of fiddling (The Taylor-less band vamped a soul groove and then played Put the Hurt on Me) before it appeared to be resolved. But no dice. The day was saved, however, not by a hairy arsed grizzled roadie in a faded Foghat t-shirt, but rather by a lady in a fetching scarlet blouse down the front. She pointed out an unplugged cable and all was well.
Lesser bands may have been derailed by nonsense like that, but The Heavy didn’t miss a beat. Piling in to an aggressive Sixteen they instantly regained their momentum. An easy task as they’d opened the set firing on all four with a pounding A Whole Lot of Love, instantly finding their groove and then boosting it with Can’t Play Dead. Far from reaching peak riff with that tune, Heavy for You was monstrous, a Download worthy beast of a headbanger, packed with swagger.
The set list was judiciously selected, new cuts and old favourites fighting for the biggest crowd response, the most dancing and the loudest singalong. Swaby was a constant blur of loafer powered bopping and bonhomie: 76 fist bumps, 42 high fives and 16 pointing at pals in the first song alone (estimated figures). A man clearly enjoying his work, he owned both stage and crowd.
The (extended) band were a powerful presence on stage. Two guitars brought heaviosity, but then the horns were used to shadow the riffs too: percussive playing fattening the tunes. Keys sweetened the sound, as did the backing vocals, pop harmonies lightening the thunder of the band. The whole shebang effortlessly powered by a supercharged rhythm section: a soul rhythm section auditioning for a rock band without losing their groove.
The band’s sound is undoubtedly rooted in soul, classic RnB and rock, the tropes of those genres a launch pad for sonic experimentation. Thus, the horns brought spaghetti westerns to mind with Mariachi stabs as often as they recalled Stax tunes. The band know how to lay down a groove to get the crowd dancing, but they’re equally at home laying down riffs to get their heads banging. All wrapped up in songs packed with earworm choruses and equally memorable verses. And the band’s secret weapon, the extra ingredient that lifted this show? Their relationship with their fans.
Without shadow of a doubt the Wildhearts attract the most passionate crowds in town – never outdrunk, never outsung – but The Heavy crowd would give them a bloody good run for their money. From the walk on music to the last ounce of microphone hiss the crowd were enraptured. Swaby bantered with them constantly and although he orchestrated singalongs and call ‘n’ response segments, there was no need. Word perfect the crowd lifted the roof at every opportunity. It’s barely been out a fortnight, but they were word perfect on the new tunes, a constant writhing, dancing, singing gestalt of elated participation. And on a school night too.
After the main set Swaby returned alone and insisted that the band would not be back until the crowd raised enough of a racket to be heard at Ashton Gate and drown out the crowd there. That took all of five seconds to achieve but Swaby milked it for a few minutes more before the inevitable encore. What Makes a Good Man was introduced with a heartfelt tribute to a fallen friend of Swaby and was a celebratory piledriver. If anything, How You like Me Now was even more triumphant, musicians and audience united in one sweaty, shouty, pogo-a-gogo finale.
Five albums into their career The Heavy have forged a unique sound: quirky, challenging yet sneakily accessible tunes that defy genre boundaries and stylistic ghettoes. And they’ve matured into a fierce live band who can takes that studio output and alchemise pure sonic gold. Their gigs are inclusive & celebratory (viz Better as One), the crowd as vital an element of the gigs as the musicians on stage. There’s a natural inclination to want them to remain in accessible venues like the Trinity, but there’s a matching desire to see them moving up to the large venues their talents deserve. Catch ‘em at SWX while you still can.
*The World Health Organisation rather than the ‘Orrible ‘Oo.
The Heavy: Trinity: Tuesday, 28 May 2019
All pix by Phil Riley
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