Music / Neo soul
Review: Tank & The Bangas/Sweet Crude, SWX
Those early curfews are hard on support bands – the temptation to stroll in for the headliners is always strong. I suspect I wasn’t the only one in the sparser early crowd to have no idea who Sweet Crude were so, when they hit into a high speed Cajun number – complete with soaring fiddle and French lyrics, I was probably not the only one to be wrong footed. As it was they turned out to be a kind of modern throwback to the theatrical pop-rockers of the 80s like The Cramps or The Tubes, and even (in their synthier moments) Devo, a connexion enhanced by the heavy framed specs sported by the rhythm section.
They made an energetic, big sound on bilingual numbers like On Est Paré, enhanced by vocalist Alexis Marceaux’ thumping percussion, and their choreographed stage presence gave an eager-to-please Eurovision impression. It’s a shame this tour isn’t headed for France because their ‘drum pop Louisianais’ would definitely go down a storm there but they got a pretty warm response from Bristol, too.
is needed now More than ever
Numbers had swelled massively by the time the Bangas hit the stage, however, with a real sense of anticipation in the air that erupted for the kimono clad entrance of the Tank herself, aka Ms Tarriona Ball, slam poet, rapper and singer extraordinaire. She made a demure face, eyes cast down, moved into position with a slow dignity that lasted about ten seconds before she exploded into action, the crowd roared, and that was the last of slow and demure for the evening. But not the dignity, oh no – despite her silent movie facial gymnastics, flamboyant moves and the occasional sleazy lyrics the over-riding impression she gave is of immense dignity that allows her to do anything she chooses. And when she intoned that she is ‘all women’ you know that she intended that dignity to be shared and enjoyed.
It’s a piledriving set that gives plenty of space for her band to make music while her words tumble forth, often at breakneck speed and in a casual repartee with backing vocalist Kayla Buggage. Occasionally she gave us a more laid-back narrative flow that unfolded songs like Do Something, her parents’ complaint about wasting her talents on poetry and music, or the tale of a romance sinking into boredom and the formula of Smoke, Netflicks, Chill.
It is hard to imagine Ms Ball ever slumped into inertia, but then again it’s hard to imagine her in the studio with Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart yet opener Big Bad Wolf was the fruit of that collaboration. With its catchy chorus and memorable lyrics like “Trump took a dump on American progression, wiped his ass with the American flag and now half the stars are missing” it came with a loose rolling beat and brooding swampy vibe that reeked of the band’s New Orleans roots, a distinctive flavour that lifted the soundtrack of the evening from run of the mill hip-hop and in which Albert Allenback’s strategically deployed sax and flute played a big part.
But while you might strain to catch the words at times most people at the SWX already knew them anyway (with the exception of fast-talking new release Ants) and above all this was about having a good time with a supreme party entertainer who wanted everyone to join in. It’s something else she shares with the Grateful Dead – a relentless emphasis on live touring that means 2013’s Think Tank remains the band’s only studio album. There was a sincerity about the way they interacted on stage that showed in the jazzy freshness of the music and their frequent laughter. And when it wrapped up, with Sweet Crude joining them for a party on stage you felt this really was as much of a fun time for them as it undeniably had been for us.
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