Why?
A few weeks ago, upon returning from a work trip to Japan, I found myself up at silly o’clock in the morning listening to the radio. As has been my radio obsession for some time now, my station of choice was the totally brilliant 6music. The through-the-night DJ is Chris Hawkins, and he slipped on a DeVotchKa track. The gypsy(ish) sound was a more refined version of Gogol Bordello, folky mariachi in a Calexico kind of way, with a touch of spaghetti Western, and a bit of American soft indie. Sold to the slightly loopy jetlagged bloke in the dressing gown! I booked tickets there and then.
The Venue
Of late, there has been something of an institution cull on London’s gig circuit. The Hammersmith Palais has shut its doors, Turnmills is no more, The Spitz is gone, and the death knell has sounded for the Astoria too. The Scala in Kings Cross is still going strong. Originally built as a cinema, then used to manufacture airplane parts during the first world war, the Scala is one of London’s oldest gig venues and alternative movie spots. There are cracked stone floors, high brick ceilings, and strips of mosaic. Regular club night take place in the bar area, with a nice big window looking down over Pentonville Road. The gig area is medium sized, with a smallish pit, and staggered raised areas stretching to the back
What they look like
The band look like musicians, which is what they are. Despite the Gogol-esque sound, there is no caricatured gypsy outfits. The singer, Nick Urata, wears a black shirt and suit, and takes slugs from a bottle of red wine during the set. Very cool. The violinist (and accordion player and pianist) looks like all good violinists; a bit gawky. When he is spotlit from behind, with broken bow strings swinging in silhouette, the effect is superb, like watching a gypsy peddler in a jazz club. The double bass player (and sousaphone, and vocals) looks like all good bass string players- brunette and frumpy.
The Music
Urata’s voice is the thing. On one song he wails like a lovestruck mariachi in the desert; on anther like pining Balkan father; on another with a sweet quietness that makes you want to sway from side to side with a smile on your face. He glissandos from low to high, with a tight, warbling vibrato. He sounds a bit like the guy from Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and a bit like the Baby Bird singer (“Because yooooou’re gorgeous so on and so forth”) but, well, better. DeVotchKa’s Romani/ Balkan-syle songs bounce like a sooped-up oom-pah band on holiday in north Africa. The Mariachi numbers bring in the trumpet and sway appropriately, occasionally the drumming transforms the music into jerky ska. At times the delicateness of the violin is lost, and the sousaphone noise a bit inconsistent (but this is understandable, the horn was about five times the sound of her head), but Urata’s voice remains enchanting throughout.
Conclusion
Despite the utter beauty of the vocals, to some extent DeVotchKa sell themselves a little short. Because they are multi-talented, multi-instrumental supermusos, they alternate the instruments between tracks, meaning there are only ever four instruments playing at the same time. I wanted more. With a bigger band the joyous songs would be more joyous, the excitable ones more exciting. And part of me wanted them to dance around a lot more, especially during the high-tempo gypsy songs...but when you are trying to negotiate a dozen instruments between four of you, this will always be tricky. The music is exceptional, but the live experience is slightly underwhelming. Blimey, though, if this band had the size to match some of their songs, the effect would be incredible.
image: mog
tags: devotchka the scala kings cross gypsy mariachi gogol bordello romani calexico clap your hands say yeah baby bird 6music chris hawkins hammersmith palais astoria the spitz Nick Urata
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