The New Hawks
www.newhawks.org

Yorkshire House, Lancaster
4 November 2006

A smouldering night full of sparkle.
Cutting my way across crowds flocking down from the Castle Hill fireworks, I wondered how many were also on their way to the Yorkshire House.

The ‘New Hawks Guy Fawks,’ gig was a cracker. Polished, charged and original performances all round were kicked off by Richard Turner, playing an accomplished solo-set of intelligent songs and tasty, blues-rock guitar. There was an appreciative cheer, unusual so early in the evening, but despite calls for more, he modestly made way for the second act.

‘Starless and Bible Black’ from Manchester filled the stage with a menagerie of double bass, guitars, drums, sampler and even a dulcimer. We were treated to some French Rock and Roll (which won the audience round admirably, despite some initial tremors of unease about what French Rock and Roll was going to sound like…) strongly sung by Helene, who was full of cold, but you’d only know from her occasional groans about the medicinal benefits of mulled wine.

She has a voice rooted in folk, but with a steely edge that cuts through any allusion to woolly ballads. Peter’s guitar playing was beautiful, with some stunning picked arrangements. Brian’s drums shivered with rhythms, the richness stripped down and full of definition. Raz’s electronic jiggery-pokery added a seedy, slick undertone to the new folk (freak-folk according to their website) style. For me, this was occasionally a less-is-more addition, but not because it intruded on the songs and more because there are some similarities with Orton’s ‘Trailer Park,’ and in terms of the strength of these guys’ material it would be a travesty to write it off as overly commercial folk-pop.

The ‘New Hawks,’ fronted by the facially hirsute Dan Heywood, blew us away with songs that already click in with your inner jukebox to make you hum with recognition. ‘Copper Kettle,’ had people singing along, ‘Oh, what must it be like, to sleep in a different bed every night…?’

Dan’s vocals became a direct dialogue with the audience. You weren’t just going to listen, oh no, you were going to be thrust into an intense discussion about the nature of exposure, existence and observation. Dan, or Taliban Dan as he was referred to on account of his rather fine chin of hair, was a storyteller last night as much as singer, whether he was throwing in an aside, or blasting you back against the bar with a chorus.

Cello, twin violins, guitars, drums, gongs and percussion spun out rolling soundscapes full of texture and change, evoking a wind-blasted, brutal, but passionately charged landscape. You could sense the solitary bird of prey hovering, wings lapped by the wind, but the eyes never losing focus.

Mine, though, were starting to, so I toddled home with a skinful of great music.

© Mollie Baxter
5/11/06

Image: FawkesHawks - courtesy of Darren Andrews

Satori adds: I missed this gig but did later that night see the remarkable Taliban Dan playing round a bonfire at a party with friends, some from the strangely named band 'One Chip Potato and the Transcendental Watermusicians'. They blew us away. They played all their songs and then we made them play them again. Beautiful. Really special. I looked at my watch and it was 5am. How did that happen?