Review: Wolf People, Louisiana

Support Dean McPhee took to the stage in somewhat of a shambolic, fidgety fashion: pedals were adjusted & moved; stool positions changed; guitar picked up and put down, picked up and put down again and upon discovering neither mic was working, both were moved aside as he picked up the guitar, sat down and addressed the crowd unamplified. Concerned he’d left his slide in Sheffield he spent a moment patting himself down and checking the immediate area before t’was found safe in a shirt pocket. The opening cut was Glass Hills, a glacial yet Arabesque instrumental that gradually built up on loops and a clever technique that saw McPhee finger-picking out a melody and hitting a rudimentary bass line with his thumb. The song ebbed and flowed, washing over the crowd at its own pace enlivened by some beautifully fluid soloing, the whole affair the proggy side of ambient.

The second tune should have featured a drum pedal but alas that was definitely still in Sheffield, so McPhee was joined by Tom Watt from the headliners. The unnamed tune was another instrumental enlivened by the drums, and with McPhee constantly looking over his shoulder to coach the tempo he needed, slow, then slower, slower, slow as he built more guitar architecture with the loops; fingers and thumbs all working to produce enough notes for two guitars and deploying a hand held gizmo (technical term) to broaden the soundscape. Another lengthy piece, more measured than Glass Hills, this piece was anything but a foot tapper but rather encouraged a trance like swaying amongst the enraptured crowd. The final piece was apparently entirely improvised and provided an up-tempo finale to the set – drumming straight out of the classic Deutsche Kosmic Music canon, with a hefty groove and mesmerising guitar. All in all a low key yet absorbing set perfectly pitched to set the mood for the headliners.

Three albums and a compilation in to their career Wolf People have been steadily building a fan base the old fashioned way, i.e. recording bloody good songs and then taking those songs as the basis for extended (but tightly structured) renditions on stage, touring the length and breadth of the land. They’re also one of those genre-mashing bands that are a little difficult to describe…but imagine a band being asked to simultaneously perform a live soundtrack for both The Wicker Man and Shaft in front of a Download crowd hungry for rock. The packed crowd at the Louisiana got that band: a folky vocal sound and song structures with (almost) medieval guitar melodies coupled with a sinuous funky back beat and burbling bass but strewn with hefty riffs and strafed with what can only be described as fret meting solos. Oh and soloes that were often either duelling or dual leads sounding uncannily reminiscent of (whisper it) Wishbone Ash at their liquid best, or if you’ve fashion police issued blinkers, Television.

Watt was the launch pad for a sensational set, taking his seat with glasses removed and jacket dispensed with (revealing a tank top that would have suited Tom Good or Wolfie Smith), this was a guy who came to drum. Watt was a man on a mission: this was a guy who was intent on completing a job of work, who was gonna drive every tune with unstinting propulsion; a bloke who spent the set working harder than a lie detector at a UKIP press conference. He spent most of the set head down and brow furrowed as he laid down a relentless beat, and looked up maybe the once during either When the Fire is Dead in the Grate or NRR, when he glanced back and forth between Jack Sharp and Joe Hollick as they exchanged beautifully blistering leads leaving Watt with a massive grin on his face before his head went back down and he returned to conjuring up the spirit of Bill Ward in his prime.

Watt’s rhythmic partner Dan Davies on bass was a relatively unassuming presence on stage yet locked in with Watt to sublime effect, the pair conjuring up inventive rhythms throughout the night – take away the guitars and the pair could easily have been providing live breakbeats and bass runs for an old school MC or rapper. This then is the band’s USP because there are a raft of bands mining the nooks and crannies of psyche & heavy rock and blending them with influences from recesses of proto metal & folk but very few bands have thought to take all those influences and meld them with block rocking booty shaking beats.

The set was finely judged: lesser played cuts, firm favourites and plenty from the new recording Ruins. Throughout the guitar was excellent whether crashing riffs or soloes both liquid and wailing; Sharp and Hollick interweaving around each other – often facing each other eyes locked as they duplicated or followed each other’s leads; totally in the zone as they dexterously pummelled the crowd with riffs one minute then skewered them with piercing soloes the next. Sharp handled all of the vocals, armed with a quiet assurance and underplayed yet amusing patter, he orchestrated the set beautifully (although alas his vocals were lost at times in the mix). He’s quite the pragmatist too – the merch cash box was stowed safely behind his amp at the start of the gig and then retrieved at the end for a lengthy sojourn in the bar as the crowd queued for shirts, back catalogue and vinyl along with lengthy chatting and convivial socialising. But before the post gig meet and greet there was the small matter of the encore.

Sharp suggested that if the crowd wanted more (never in doubt), the band would remain on stage rather than trying to push thorough the rammed room to the dressing room and sure enough, after a menacing One by One from Dorney Reach the crowd raised the roof to the evident delight of the band and they invited McPhee back on stage for Kingfisher off the new LP. Once again McPhee spent more than the first few bars fussing with his kit and fiddling with his guitar but oh boy, was it worth the wait. Kingfisher mutated in to a towering six string edifice as McPhee splashed mercurial guitar all over the tune, whilst Sharp and Horlick riffed and soloed in their own right over a pounding rhythm section, capping the night with an enviable display of technique and passion. Cue yard-wide grins off stage and on, rapturous cheering and sadly unfulfilled cries for more. Watt mentioned a potential return in the spring, watch the web and get yourself there for a night of “Peat bog superfuzz sphagnum moss sludge.” © Stewart Lee.

All pix John Morgan