As good as they undoubtedly are, The Last Shadow Puppets were surely the catalyst for Alex Turner's baffling metamorphosis, from the early indie sneer to his latter-day Scott Walker-esque crooning. In contrast, his partner in the ...Puppets, Miles Kane, has held fast to his strutting, modish, rebellious attitude and on stage, his energy is electric. This was a show I didn't want to miss.
As I write, I'm one day away from finishing work at the Pięć Smaków Asian Film Festival and two from starting on the 24th edition of the WATCH DOCS Human Rights Documentary Film Festival. As such, the second half of November is bereft of gigs.
The night before the festival, I was all set to photograph all-woman Black Sabbath cover band, Black Sabbitch, but they had to cancel. And a few days into Pięć Smaków, I had to give up my photo pass to Ukrainian band, Dakhabrakha - the 3rd time I've had a pass, but had to pass. Gutted. Nevertheless, I made up for it early in the month with Dopelord supporting Stoned Jesus, Laura Jane Grace supported by Pet Needs, and, of course, Miles Kane supported by Oysterboy.
I arrived outside Niebo and found a familiar face in the queue, my friend Ania - also photographing. Shows with Ania also in the pit are a joy. Photo talk mixes with music chat like the proverbial coffee and a cigarette. The Inside Seaside festival was in full swing up in Gdańsk, so Ania and I were joined by only one other photographer for the show, which made things relaxed and easy-going.
Oysterboy, a self-described indieboy with a guitar, is Poznań's own Piotr Kołodyński, tonight playing solo. It's his birthday, and several versions of Poland's Happy Birthday equivalent, Sto Lat, break out through his set. The teenage girls in the audience are losing their minds for the kid. It's a joy to see. Oysterboy's songs are tinged with Americana and there's a strong dream-pop influence fighting for attention. Thoroughly enjoyable.
It wasn't long before it was time for Miles Kane, and as he swaggered on stage to pick up his Gibson 335 it was evident he planned to take the roof off the place. Beginning with the troika of Rearrange, One Man Band, and Cry on My Guitar, it was an incendiary start, throwing rock star shapes and feeding off the endless energy of his audience. By the time he brought the set to a close with Don't Forget Who You Are, the audience was all sung and danced out and left into the cold Polish evening, exhausted.
Watching some of the younger audience leave, I found myself having a wave of nostalgia remembering myself stumbling down the back stairs of the Barrowlands in Glasgow, my t-shirt drenched in sweat after jumping around with a thousand others to Idlewild's You Just Have To Be Who You Are or dancing my ass off to The Belles and The Boy With The Arab Strap, ears ringing and safe in the knowledge I'd wear nothing for the next week but the freshly-bought t-shirt in my pocket.
Music's fucking brilliant, isn't it? More next month.
And Finally…
There might not be a Photos, mostly this month, as I’m working on two film festivals back to back, but I’ll return in the 1st week of December with some photos and some blethering - then the 2nd week of December, Dispatches will be back.
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Come back x
Love these, and especially the second to last one, which is an angle I haven't tried. But really they are all excellent concert images.