At times, a great band bursts out from the warm soft rock: overall, they play safe and do not build on the fiery interludes.
In spite of their name, Breaks Co-Op's live set is not hip-hop. Fleshing out the sparse sound with drummer, bassist and two guitarists, they trade on exquisite pastoral harmonies and anthemic rocking out. They create an atmospheric grandeur, yet fail to capture a consistent majesty or passion.
Their use of turntables and samples is unimaginative; many of their songs slip into a mid-tempo apathy. Hamish Clark's intermittent raps are pedestrian, distracting from the mellow cheerfulness of Andy Lovegrove's falsetto. On rockers like Question of Freedom they threaten and cajole convincingly as duelling guitars introduce urgency and tension. Their folky encores return the band to the middle of the road and send the audience away content but uninspired.
Before the start of the show, Beats Co-Op DJed their favourite tunes, challenging the audience to be impressed. They admitted that this is a dangerous strategy, and the subsequent performance did not surpass the excitement of the recorded selection. At times, a great band bursts out from the warm soft rock: overall, they play safe and do not build on the fiery interludes.
Fans of percussive rumba will enjoy the rhythms and the theatricality is stunning
The 'Buena Vista Social Club' haunts this production: a cheer erupts when the nightclub is mentioned and the enthusiasm for Cuban music that made 'Havana Rumba' a sell-out stems from the film. This slick shows lacks the movie's personality: instead of legends performing signature songs, there is a proficient, anonymous band, supple dancers and a linking narrative.
The rambling narrative revolves around the life of a Barrio postman. His memories, and the letters he delivers, become introductions to passionate performances. The dancers upstage the musicians with sensuous acrobatics, choreographing the dramas hidden in the lyrics. The band are relegated to the rear, rarely given space to shine, letting loose only in the finale. The sound is murky, the solos perfunctory, the impact muted: the seated audience have no room to dance. This lively culture is reduced to spectacle.
There is little for the unconverted: fans of percussive rumba will enjoy the rhythms and the theatricality is stunning. In spite of the happy atmosphere generated by the persistent beat, 'Havana Rumba' is too polished and constrained by the venue.
St George's West, Until 28 (not 19), 20.45, Prices Vary
The rambling narrative revolves around the life of a Barrio postman. His memories, and the letters he delivers, become introductions to passionate performances. The dancers upstage the musicians with sensuous acrobatics, choreographing the dramas hidden in the lyrics. The band are relegated to the rear, rarely given space to shine, letting loose only in the finale. The sound is murky, the solos perfunctory, the impact muted: the seated audience have no room to dance. This lively culture is reduced to spectacle.
There is little for the unconverted: fans of percussive rumba will enjoy the rhythms and the theatricality is stunning. In spite of the happy atmosphere generated by the persistent beat, 'Havana Rumba' is too polished and constrained by the venue.
St George's West, Until 28 (not 19), 20.45, Prices Vary
This is easy listening folk, smoothed and tamed, dealing in generalisation and rarely evoking
Eric Bogle is a folk veteran: his songs have been covered and made famous by bands as diverse as the Furies, the Pogues and forgotten punks the Angelic Upstarts. Tony Blair cites Bogle as his favourite anti-war poet, an irony that is not wasted in Bogle's introduction to 'The Green Fields of France'.
Ably accompanied by fellow Scottish exile John Munroe, Bogle works his way through a series of undemanding, sentimental tunes: his song writing is neither flashy nor original and his guitar lines are solid. He ruminates on growing old, political activism and- the subject that he is known for- the First World War, without achieving much passion. His rhymes are functional: this is easy listening folk, smoothed and tamed, dealing in generalisation and rarely evoking poignancy.
Bogle takes his life's experiences and polishes them into serviceable numbers, but his songs feel too vague and calm. His politics and musical structures are rooted in the 1970s, and even his newest pieces lack immediacy and depth. He delivers on his audience's expectations but does little to inspire the unconverted.
Ably accompanied by fellow Scottish exile John Munroe, Bogle works his way through a series of undemanding, sentimental tunes: his song writing is neither flashy nor original and his guitar lines are solid. He ruminates on growing old, political activism and- the subject that he is known for- the First World War, without achieving much passion. His rhymes are functional: this is easy listening folk, smoothed and tamed, dealing in generalisation and rarely evoking poignancy.
Bogle takes his life's experiences and polishes them into serviceable numbers, but his songs feel too vague and calm. His politics and musical structures are rooted in the 1970s, and even his newest pieces lack immediacy and depth. He delivers on his audience's expectations but does little to inspire the unconverted.
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