Gig review: The Hidden Cameras, Voxhall

For a number of reasons, I don't really do reviews. Firstly, I have never been satisfied with any review I've written - there's always more to be said, more to be revised and often I might change my mind halfway through or shortly after I've written the review. Secondly I don't like being a bad guy - I dislike reviewers and their endless star-giving and rating systems. It's impossible to make an objective review - don't deny, it is - so often it just seems pointless to judge a record or a gig. You can say what you think but it will rarely be valuable for anyone but you and the people who know your taste. So why exactly am I trying a review now? because I feel I need to. For my own and other people's sake. This particular gig was reviewed by the Danish music magazine GAFFA - but I really don't feel like they did it any justice. So while I still remember the details, here we go:
I've been to many gigs at the Voxhall venue. Not because I particularly like it as a venue, more because they simply have the most good bands playing. It's located in Aarhus, a one-hour drive from my hometown. The gigs I've attended there have all been very different - from a calm indiepop gig with Camera Obscura (where the most exciting thing to really happen was when a drunk Irishman suddenly decided to invade the stage) to the noisy darkness of The Horrors and their many, many fangirls. I expected this gig to be something quite special - for weeks I wondered what the crowd would be like and if there would even be one. Because let's face it - not many people, not even in Denmark's next-largest city, know Canada's most sexually broad-minded cabaret outfit. If I wasn't the nerd that I am, I certainly wouldn't have heard about them either. But I'd heard stuff about their live shows - maybe even seen a YouTube video of them playing live while being blindfolded - and for reasons inscrutable their latest album 'Origin:Orphan' ended up being one of my favourite albums last year. This was a gig not to be missed, even if I was going to be the only person in the audience.
Well, at least I wasn't going to be completely alone. My gig buddy agreed to go with me and we arrived as soon as the doors of the venue were open. From the beginning it seemed to be a different gig for Voxhall - the ticket collector seemed to try and tell me indirectly that nobody would be coming tonight - as he told that the only fun he was going to have was when checking my ticket. Incredibly, a group of about five, sort-of normal-looking women had also found their way to the venue (and the bar). So we weren't going to be completely alone, my friend and I.
As the time went by a few more people showed up - each of them looking completely different from what I would expect. No flamboyant gays or young, indie-curious people like myself. Just plain, "normal" people, some old, some young(er). It was a weird gathering.
That didn't stop the support band from being an interesting acquaintance though. Dressed in all white, the Danish band Men Among Animals were an all dancing, all clapping, all tambourine-playing slice of niceness. Their greatness made me wonder if some of the audience members were only there to see them. As things look now, though, I remember very little about their appearance. Compared to the headliners, their performance became an experience of parenthetical proportions.
As my friend and I were asked to jump down from the stage (it is preferred place to sit when waiting, you know) and a blue certain hid the stage, the excitement began building up for real. And it was awarded, as a few more people found their way to the floor of the venue and my friend and I didn't feel that alone anymore. The background music stopped playing - a blue light appeared from behind the curtain - and suddenly the gig started. Behind the curtain, the dramatic opener of the before-mentioned album's title track crept up and few moments later the curtain was pulled away and a band appeared, consisting of seven members, carrying such instruments as keyboards, bass, guitar, drums, cello and trumpet. This wasn't traditional, this was special. And the first thing leading man Joel Gibb had to tell the audience? "Kom nærmere". Yes, that'll be "come closer" in Danish. While the audience might normally stay a little away from the stage when the supporting band is playing, everyone except my friend and I (we do have a front-row tradition - why wouldn't we?), they still kept a distance between themselves and the stage at this point. They came a little closer - and from then on it became obvious that no matter how into the audience was or wasn't, the band was going to give it everything anyway.
After the dramatic beginning, the band geared down a little - playing the b-side 'Pencil Case' secondly and then proceeding into another track from 'Origin:Orphan' followed by the old single 'Awoo'. That's where it started for me - the weird feeling of witnessing something spectacular, something special. The cellist started dancing, throwing himself around while energetically playing his unhandy instrument and the trumpet player challenged him. Then the cellist challenged the singer and his guitar. It was like watching a great duel - for many of the songs, at least one or two band members had something going on that wasn't just playing their instrument. Jumping, dancing, singing or just fooling around. Then they played a track loaded with screaming (which I have yet to decipher what was) and throwing each other around, the trumpet player once being on the floor while holding onto the cellist's leg. Joel Gibb comes off as a mad preacher, a genius of theatrics, songwriting skills and general silliness. The Hidden Cameras don't take themselves too seriously and as the gig progressed, my friend turned to me and said "this beats everything!", only to a few moments later approach me to say that he thinks they're about to do the "blindfold thing". They were indeed, because - as their leader put it - they needed an eyebreak ("as recommended every 24 minutes"). They put on a lovely rendition of "Smells like Happiness" and then let their eyes see "beautiful Danish people" again for an energetic version of 'In The NA', the silliest song from 'Origin:Orphan'. The preacher said 'Tak, Aarhus' numerous times, hid behind his amplifiers and shouted things in a language I couldn't figure out what was. Then he jumped around and got pulled around by his trumpet player during 'The Little Bit', before jumping from the stage and approaching random audience members to sing the 'uuuh' part of the song with him. An internal group dance was introduced during 'Underage', making for even more of the many joyous laughs I'd had the pleasure of going through during the evening. The keyboardist Laura then had a few instructions for the last song on the setlist and decided to give us these in, well, Danish. The audience had to do, yes, a dance - and while a such thing would normally make it shiver down my spine with horror, it seemed amazingly appropriate. As if you were a part of the band, having fun, here and now. The band returned, all jumping for the pumping 'Ban Marriage' and then they were gone again. The tiny audience kept clapping, though, and the band returned once again for a different version of the very same song that opened their set. Weirdly appropriate and suddenly it was all over. Though the sad remains didn't include confetti or fireworks, it certainly felt like it. It was a party for the few, invited people and it was the kind of experience that made you wish you could hire a band to play for you every day. I certainly wouldn't mind having my own Hidden Cameras to entertain after a boring school day. Oh, and did I mention it all sounded bloody good?

Party is the new loud

As things go, it's been quiet for a while here on the blog. But I'm still going strong and I think I might have regained my inspiration after a month of lovely gigs and general awareness of what a fantastic thing music is. There'll be more on that later. For now, here's a video and song I have become quite fond of over the last week. As the title of this blog post suggests, it is indeed a way of trying to get this blog up and going again - with a party, making it go from quiet to loud. (Sorry, this is the last time I'll try to be clever.)