The experience of Video Jam is as compelling as its premise: “an experimental night of short films with a variety of live musical accompaniment”. Filmmakers of any ilk submit silent short films to which a musician, band or poet provides a live audio accompaniment. The filmmakers have no say over what kind of score their pieces get and the films were chosen for the musicians, largely at random.

Sarah Hill is one of four organisers of Video Jam, a graduate from the University of Manchester and now an art foundation student at Manchester Metropolitan University. The original idea came to her from an opening she went to at the Whitworth Gallery, where an animation was scored live by two musicians. She told me how she had explained to another Video Jam organiser: “I know I want to do something with film and music, but I’m not sure what. I’m a filmmaker and he’s a musician, I thought ‘we can do something together’.”

The event was held at Antwerp Mansions, a large building just behind Rusholme’s curry mile. Originally a Belgian consulate, the imposing Victorian structure became a Conservative club in 1924, before being abandoned and then squatted. It’s now a licensed venue and a hangout for artists, musicians and others. Unlike the squat-inspired faux-eclectic aesthetic of commercially successful chains like Trof, Antwerp Mansions seems the real deal. Grand Victorian architecture and original mouldings – the period features remain largely intact – are now home to a mad mix of paintings, pornography, murals and a flea market-esque collection of furniture; the stage itself is made out of vast antique pool tables pushed together.

The team behind Video Jam had laid out tables and chairs with dark red table cloths and tea lights in jam jars were dotted across the room, giving the feeling of a speakeasy during prohibition, or the hideout of a revolutionary fraternity. I half expected maps detailing an upcoming siege to be projected onto the large white sheet that hung on one wall.

The night began with two short films by lecturer Dave Griffiths, the first a cigarette in black and white burning to the filter and the second a collection of white dots and scratches taken from the controversial 1915 film The Birth of a Nation and accompanied by sparse, atonal scratching on an electric guitar by Anton Hunter. From its highly experimental beginnings, the night unfolded as an exploration of film and music without restraint. There were highly abstract and graphically driven pieces, films with a narrative, featuring actors and there were films using found footage, spliced and edited to create new art.

The music was an energetic mix of instruments; guitars, wind, brass, strings, piano and instruments neither I, nor the music buffs I was sat with, could even name. While the majority of the scores worked well, I wished some had been a little more adventurous. In some cases it seemed as though the musicians were content to recreate the films in musical terms, rather than trying to add their own commentary or counterpoint.

The most successful collaborations were always when the music brought something unexpected, challenging and wonderful to the film. Anne Lister’s film The View From Jupiter accompanied by Sophie James was one such success. Although the film itself was beautiful – a series of orbs travelling across the screen – the musical accompaniment added a dimension, which was at once elaborate and captivating and gave the illusion of visual complexity.

Musician Adam Hart, who performed a rich electronic score for a short film of a car journey at night, explained that “when film and music mix together and the result is more than the sum of their parts, it creates an extra dimension. Music and moving image should complement each other”. He conceded that “it’s easier if [the film is] abstract- there’s less of a demand for synchronicity”.

Sarah Hill, whose own film Funes, the Memorious, scored by Michael Seal was another highlight, said “I have a particular interest in filmmakers and musicians who are working in a genuinely experimental way, who don’t worry about convention, and value improvisation; the idea of chance or happy accidents”.

Indeed, what gave the night its feeling of freshness and scope, was the sense of experimentation. When Helen Knowles’ submission was aired – found footage of an unassisted childbirth – it was played twice, once without music as “an experiment”.

The night was not without its hitches; technical errors interrupted a few of the screenings and at one stage, while I spoke to enthusiastic organisers Sarah and Sam Hughes they had to run off to replace the screen, which had been pulled down. But again, the crowd was supportive and their teething issues will no doubt be smoothed during Video Jam’s future at the mansions.

Lucy Allan

So how did the collaboration between you and Skeptical come about?

We’ve worked together for a little while now. We’ve done a few things on Ingredients, we did a “12 on dispatch and we did some stuff on Critical. So we’ve probably worked together for nearly 2 years: Skeptical is my partner in crime though we’ve only actually been in the studio together once – we’ve made about 20 tunes together – but we’ve only actually sat together once.

What we usually do is one of us will start a tune and send the other the parts. So he might send me five folders and I’ll send him five with the beginnings of a tune – a bit of bass, a bit of drums etc – and it’ll go from there. We’ll take the parts we like, change a few parts, and it progresses like that.

With this tune he sent me a file and it sat there for a bit. Then one night I was in the studio with Johnni and we started working on it. He put the bar on and it was about a four-hour session in the end.  The thing I’ve always liked about working with Skeptical is that if I send him any of my parts, I know the tune is going to come back better than I sent it. He’s gonna add bits, change bits around and all that and it will always improve it. It’s nice working with someone who inspires you and you can trust 100 per cent to make it better.

What inspired Marka?

Nothing specific. On my part, it was just listening to the parts Ash [Skeptical] sent me – the half speed part and the ragga clap – Johnni had the bar and we went from there. We’ve always had one eye on doing something different, but without being too contrived about it. At that point, we thought “this hasn’t been done so let’s try that.” Obviously the lyrics are clash talk so there’s the inspiration for that.

People often make links between your music and film soundtracks. What do you think about the comparison?

Yeah, you’re trying to paint a picture with the music. Not consciously, but, I watch a lot of films and film music is sometimes the best music. It’s not trying to be cool or anything but is purely there to set a mood, and that’s the best kind of music, where you’re trying to generate some kind of feeling, or set a tone. Sometimes it comes from the oddest shit. There’s actually some atmospheric sounds from Marka that come from a weird old Polish film called Seven Days of Night.  I got about half way through and thought, “This is weird but the soundtrack is great!” So I recorded the whole thing in.

What do you think about the reception to Marka?

It’s been mad. It’s more than we could ever imagine could happen. Obviously it’s been great and we’re absolutely over the moon. When we finished it we thought it was just weird and some people might like but a lot of people would probably hate it. The response has been absolutely overwhelming though. We didn’t think you could make a tune with that kind of reach anymore. In a sea of mass promotion where anyone can make something it’s so hard to get noticed so for a tune to take over social media for a day like it did was just mental. It’s all a bit odd because you think that if and when it happens it’ll never happen to you.

It’s like when you talk to older people about how they got their job – they just turned up and asked for it – and it seems like that with some older bands: they just play a couple of shows and they get signed. It seems like a lot more work today.

I used to read that kind of stuff – ‘cause I’ve been doing this 11 years – so I used to think, “How have you done that?” To me that doesn’t seem possible. I’ve been in the same places where you said you’ve been and got a job and I didn’t get a job…am I just shit? But I guess you’ve got to just live with that. I’m quite proud of the fact that I stuck to my guns, I’ve been here all this time, doing it, and finally gotten somewhere.

What do you think about the scene in Manchester?

For me, Manchester is the most inspiring place in the world to be.  We’ve got everything here from musicians, producers, DJs, MCs, graphic designers, great clubs, video people, web designers, press people, PR people, clothes designers. You name it, we’ve got it. The problem is, at least not since the days of Madchester, has the whole of Manchester come together and said “right, let’s get together and do this” probably.

We’re outside of London where all the industry has traditionally been, and being a little city in the North it’s very hard for us to be on that circuit. The only way we’re going to get anywhere is by having our own circuit. Obviously there are some great things up here but now we’re all working together and it’s starting to be a bit more conducive. We’ve got the Estate UK thing, originally Broke N’English’s label, but now it’s a group thing with Skittles, Chimpo and Fox, T man, Sparks, Ellis Meade, myself and James from Example Media at the helm– there’s a really strong little unit there where it’ll be a great thing if we do it properly. At the moment it’s just a bunch of mates trying to support each other but hopefully it could be something bigger if we work hard enough.

What was interesting was that the last mixmag had myself, Skittles, DRS, Strategy, Hit and Run and a few other bits. Someone tweeted something about how strong Manchester was looking at the moment. It’s great that people are saying that but we were thinking “wait ‘til they realise that we’re all the same crew”.

What is it about the city that inspires that sort of thing?

It’s the size partly. Everyone knows everyone. But it’s got a strong musical identity and a rich heritage. The people, the place, the rain, everything – it’s an inspiring place to be. We’ve got so many people as well, so many creeds and cultures, it’s so culturally rich.

Is there much conflict between staying independent versus going with big labels?

I don’t think major labels are something you can turn down because at the end of the day we’ve all got to put food on the table and they can guarantee that. But there’s a certain romance to staying independent. With Marka we didn’t use any of the usual channels. We just put it up on YouTube. I’m quite proud of the fact we didn’t get a remix of a big name, we didn’t go to a massive PR company, didn’t pay tonnes of people to push it in all these different places. It was just a natural thing.

What do you think of the Warehouse Project?

It’s cool for what it is and it puts the city on the map. Some of the acts they have I think are wicked but it’s not totally my kind of thing. I’ve only been there once – make of that what you will…

What should we expecting from you this year?

I’m all over this year. Pretty much every city in the UK, quite a few European dates, festivals over the summer. Check out the fanpage for all the listings. Release-wise is a “12 on Critical Music called Codec with Never beenft Fox on the other side. After that there’s a “12 on Samurai which is a collab’ with Skeptical. One side featuring T Man, the other featuring Sparks. There’s also a number of remixes due and some stuff at different tempos. Again, check the fanpage for details on those as and when.

So who haven’t you mentioned that we should be keeping a look out for at the moment?

For me, Chimpo and Fox are two of the most underrated musicians about. Do yourself a favour and check them out.

Joseph Ritchie

Lowkey. Photograph via Rasha Entertainment

Lowkey is a rising star in UK hip-hop, an achievement all the more remarkable due to his refusal to pander and the lack of mainstream support. He rejects the label ‘conscious hip-hop’, but whatever you want to call it his rhymes confront political issues and dismiss the music industry.

His audience is large and still growing, with YouTube videos that clock in over one million hits and a top five debut in iTunes hip-hop album chart in the UK, US and Canada for Soundtrack, despite no backing from any major label. This pays homage not only to years of relentless touring and sheer word of mouth, but the hunger for serious content among hip-hop fans.

Opening “Voice of the Voiceless”, his recent collaboration with Immortal Technique, he writes: “From West End to the West Bank, I write righteous rhymes with my right hand and battle the devil with my left hand. Never worked for a Zionist, never been a yes man, my art is like Rembrandt painting pictures of death camps.” The appeal isn’t just the effortless flow or the lyrical ability, but also the global focus, the sense of justice and personal struggle.

In addition to his musical output, Lowkey has been very active in a number of causes. In 2010 he joined Jody McIntyre and Norman Finkelstein on a speaking tour and donated the profits from the single ‘Long Live Palestine’ – which debuted at no.1 in the Amazon and iTunes hip-hop download charts – to aid victims of the Israeli bombardment of Gaza. In 2009 and 2010 he travelled to the occupied territories to perform benefit concerts, being detained briefly by Israeli authorities on both trips. In 2008, he and Logic helped publicise the NSPCC’s Don’t Hide It campaign and donated a song to raise awareness.

Uncompromising

His lyrics are raw and uncompromising, whether it’s about the Obama administration and US Foreign Policy (“America has inflicted a million ground zeros”) the Israeli occupation of Palestine (“How many more Resolutions have to be violated/ How many more children have to be annihilated?”) or the state of British politics (“Never will there be a day when the cameras are turned off/ Who runs this country, Cameron or Murdoch?”).

It’s not just big, BBC Newsnight-style headline issues either: Soundtrack features a reflective, moving feminist track called “Something Wonderful” (“Some things are too deep to put into verse/ I want to apologise to every Women I’ve hurt.”) and a tearful, impassioned reflection on his older brother who committed suicide in “Haunted”. Similar issues inform the work of tour-mates Logic and Crazy Haze, MCs who, alongside Lowkey, are members of the People’s Army, a group of politically minded artists.

And it’s not just the message: dub poet Benjamin Zephaniah calls him “one of the best lyricists in the western hemisphere”. Whether it’s the high-octane lyricism of “Who Said I Can’t Do Grime?” or the masterful “Alphabet Assasion”, his style is eloquent, immaculate and 100 per cent his own. Similarly, Logic has a deep, rhythmic flow that informs and intrigues and Crazy Haze can’t help but impress with frenetic, intense and militant delivery.

Whether you’re a die-hard hip-hop fan, politically engaged or simply a connoisseur of good music, you should not miss this opportunity to hear one of Britain’s most interesting artists live on stage.

Joseph Ritchie

You can catch the gig at the Manchester Academy 2, Monday 21 September 8pm – midnight. Tickets cost £10 and you can get them here or at HMV or Pan Rythm. The event has been organised by the University of Manchester Hip-Hop Society

Womb

Berlin based composer Richard Scott Lightning Ensemble delivered this month’s implosion of sounds along with inventive improvisers Human Combustion Engine and Womb, an all female collective fiercely dedicated to the act of expression. First up on the night was Womb with a 30 minute improvised set of chanting, marching and war painted faces bringing on the doom. Womb is a Manchester based collective initiated by artist and musician Louise Woodcock as a supportive platform for female artists and musicians to make experimental music in a male dominated scene. Womb’s first gig was at Islington Mill for the Manchester Artists’ Bonfire in January 2011 which paved the way for a plethora of diverse gigs such as supporting Damo Suzuki and Electrelane. They started off the evening with a toy zooped up violin with bells and chains accompanying. Then came a call to arms of sounds, drums, guitars, trumpet and bass with saxophone leading the pack of howling banshees. The set developed into something dark and satanic with timpani drum playing filling the church paired with droning undertones of organ sounds reminiscent of 70s horror films. About 15 minutes into the set a glimpse of a reprise with a breaking thump and cowbells creating almost a stand off with womb and the devil, with sporadic yet repetitive chants. Rising up the sound became a ride on a trance state until repetition slowed into a throb and ended with a mixture of distortion and applause.

Human Combustion Engine

After a small break and friendly conversations in the grounds of the church we were presented with the second group of the evening, Human Combustion Engine, an improvisational duo from Leeds – Melanie Crowley and Phil Todd. Human Combustion Engine are a synth project offshoot of Ashtray Navigations who have led the way for upwards of 15 years in the field of psychedelic noise freakout rock and drone music. At the start we were told that the duo were not much to look at so “if you want to walk around the room and listen to the sounds, to see if the sounds are different in different parts of the church, you can”. The battle of synthetic other worldly noises had the audience captured and the lack of visual stimulus was irrelevant. The noises that resulted from their knob twizzling made me visualise alien birds landing around the room perching on the window sills calling out to each other before taking off flying around our heads. A dying spaceship needing air and saying goodbye before the set faded to space.

Another break gave some the opportunity to dress up from a children’s dressing up box in the church and others the opportunity to discuss the diverse range of sounds heard so far. And then came Richard Scott Lightning Ensemble. Richard Scott is a Berlin/Manchester based composer and improviser, on this occasion supported by his lighting ensemble made up of Manchester based musicians Adam Linson, Phil Marks and David Birchall. Richard Scott was closely associated with London Musician’s Collective in the early eighties before moving to Manchester in 1991.  A strange moment fell over us as the band started, when it appeared the sounds and the visual actions of the players didn’t match up: A conductor creating sounds out of thin air, conducting a Looney tunes band. Richard Scott waved Buchla lightning/WiGi infra red controllers instinctively yet spontaneously to create a wondrous electronic landscape. As an audience member it felt like fast forwarding a tape trying to find the part you thought you wanted to listen to but never getting there.

Richard Scott Lightning Ensemble

The beat was brought to us by a kiddy’s kit played by a giant not able to hold the stick properly and then using his palms. A guitarist picking and prodding the guitar, using a comb and at times an acorn to create a primal set of plucking sounds. A double bassist using the wrong side of his bow with no sound coming out completed the brilliantly broken picture. The use of the walls and table tapping with moments of complete noise falling into jagged quiet sound and whistles disappearing into silence, brought the inspiring set to end. This was a venture into true experimentation, you had to let yourself be carried away and get absorbed.

Such an interesting and inspiring night was helped along by the beautiful surroundings and acoustics of St Margaret’s church and also the passionate and friendly promoters who thought to put these two aspects together for what was a very successful event.

Tubers’ next event is September 24 with a rare performance from Drapeau Noir a collaboration made up of three excellent UK underground groups, Part Wild Horses Mane On Both Sides, The Hunter Gracchus and Chora. St Margaret’s Church 8- 11pm, tickets on the door £5 waged £4 unwaged.

Debbie Sharp

Out in front. Lead singers Damien and Julie

“Sorry I’ll be five minutes late,” reads the text from Caulbearers frontman Damien Mahoney a minute before we had agreed to meet. My heart sinks, this usually means 20 minutes (at least) and I have to get back to work, but luckily he arrives just three over time. A record.

On arrival he looks clearly stressed out. The Caulbearers debut E.P. launch night is on Friday and “there’s loads of spanners in the works, you forget you have to do some music.” The latest problem is that the bass player has broken two fingers on his left hand. “It’s a bit of a fucker,” says Damien, which with a gig on Friday seems a bit of an understatement.

“We rehearsed last night but with a totally different line up, it wasn’t the one that will be playing on Friday,” he explains. “The drummer is on tour with Magic Hat Ensemble, he is so difficult to track down, Ben’s not around as he lives in London but now he’s bust his finger anyway, Matt (guitarist) couldn’t make it… It’s like that at the moment. Having eight members is difficult to work between you.”

Luckily the Caulbearers use the “squad rotation system” as Damien calls it, a pool of musicians that can play all the songs (and learn new ones quickly). And this squad has a bit of everything: “We have drummers who are multi-instrumentalists and can read music like a book. Then there’s me who can’t play a chord and that’s an interesting mix in Caulbearers.”

But the system is born out of necessity and does have its problems. “It’s the only way,” says Damien, “otherwise the band wouldn’t survive. We’ve had to cancel gigs anyway once because three drummers can’t do it and another because Julie (vocals) can’t do it because her tour manager [from her other band] with Shaun Ryder has asked her to fly out somewhere a day early. But there is nothing you can do about it. It’s really frustrating.”

Today these problems seem to be causing him some concern and he looks as if he’s carrying the weight of the world (or at least the band) on his shoulders. I ask him if he’s the manager as well as the lead singer. “I’m the Daddy,” he says with an air of resignation, “but I’d rather be the Daddy to a small child than a group of musicians.” Others of course chip in that the recent mini-tour of Ireland was organised by Gavin (percussion), which Damien says was great, adding, “I could enjoy it more.”

But Friday’s gig at Islington Mill is down to him. The night will see the launch of the band’s long-awaited first E.P., entitled More Lie Deep. “It’s our first proper release, proper in a DIY sense.” It’s DIY, for Damien at least, because he has produced the whole thing himself. “I’m pleased with it,” he says with an air of real pride, “because there were times I felt up against it.”

“We did the drums and bass at the Blueprint studio in Salford, all the other recording has been done in the Redbricks [a housing estate] in Hulme, in my flat. We sound proofed up a room using whatever we could and used the living room as a control room, and we just edited it all there.”

The final mixes were done at Moulon Rouge Studios in Stockport with producer Shaun McFail, who’s worked with several big Manchester artists including Badly Drawn Boy. The first track on the new E.P. has quite a light sound not dissimilar to that of Mr Gough. “This,” says Damien, “is quite different from other Callbearers tracks.”

I ask him if this change in sound from one track to another is a conscious decision or something that’s just happened organically. “The thing that unites them is more where they are coming from lyrically. Some Caulbearers stuff is quite outward looking and angry, looking at society and things that are going on, and political. Not that it’s rammed down your throat,” he adds quickly, “it’s more poetic. It’s not like a Billy Brag track where there is a really obvious narrative. But the tracks on this E.P. are a lot more introspective, about trying to deal with yourself and your psyche and that’s what links them together more than the sound.”

The other songs on the E.P. lurch from deep funk to brighter pop, with a whole range of sounds and influences all neatly mixed together. “There’s this thing that it’s funk or soul or this that and the other,” complains Damien, “and it always feels uncomfortable, a lot of the strings don’t fit within that and vocals don’t fit within that.”

The E.P. is available from Band Camp. He says this tag makes it sound “‘slick”. But it isn’t like that. We’re trying to pull lots of things together and the E.P. is an expression of [different] influences with other textures.”

And those influences are widely varied. “It comes from a background of New Order and Joy Division and The Smiths and The Specials being really big influences and reggae and African music,” adding, “we’ve got space for a big variety of those things.”

This eclecticism is really what marks Caulbearers, yet all spins around the centrifugal force of Damien. As well as singing, producing and being Daddy, Damien also writes most of the songs. “I come up with the basics of a track,” he tells me, “I’ll get a demo together and send that out to the band. Then we bring it to a rehearsal and it gets jammed out and changes made and the song develops.”

Sinking, the first track on the E.P., was done in that fashion. “It’s pretty much as the first demo with the same parts,” while other songs he says “change radically. People add parts and change parts, so people are massively involved in the writing process but the initial germ of it tends to come from me.”

However, this has started to change. Julie, Will (sax/ keyboards) and Dan have started to write more. “You could feel usurped,” he says, but instead feels “like a Dad, full of blushing pride.” Let’s hope the tracks that the other band members give birth to are just as interesting and enjoyable as those their Dad has created on the new E.P., which comes with a hand made cover (very DIY) and is well worth a listen.

Tim Hunt

The band’s launch night is 8pm-2am this Friday, 10 June at Islington Mill, Salford M3 5HW

There will be support from the Mind on Fire Band & Ben Mellor and DJs: King Spinna; Joe Sope & Defunkles

Tickets are £5 on the door

First off for me was a quick dip into Islington Mill’s ground floor gallery space where Sonny Smith’s abstract ‘100 Records’ exhibition was housed. A jukebox centrepiece holds the results of a project that imagined, designed and storyboarded a century of conceptual musical acts. Inviting artists to design 7″ single sleeves for 100 fictional bands, Sonny worked with musicians to create songs for each record. Browsing the end products of record sleeves and biographies it was easy to see how the lines of fact and fiction may have been blurred; although a cynic could lament the reasons behind it, as opposed to music for music’s sake.

Scheduled as festival starters, but over 30 minutes late, were Dr Mahogany’s Goat Circus. This fluid ensemble, usually pigeonholed as a band under the jazz/world section, have a useful template for eradicating cynicism. There’s an appealing audio and visual synchronicity early in their set. Your eyes fixate on the conga drum-led Images before their grip is loosened between songs such as the Doors-esque ‘Stomping Foot, Clapping Hand.”

From then on there’s a sense of déjà vu as the weapon of choice for our musicians today is the sampler. Synth and drum duo Vieka’s ‘glitch-hop’ with distinctively enunciated vocals were hampered by unwanted amp feedback . They led in with coin-jangling samples similar to Pink Floyd and MIA. Money, another band reliant on synthetic sound snippets,  embellish atmospheric guitar effects with backing visuals of their own. Lyrical content with a mortal preoccupation is enhanced by a tortured delivery akin to The Walkmen’s records, while thudding bass à la Joy Division permeates their misty introspection.

Day For Airstrikes is where I head next. Back at the United Reformed Church, the band provide a new soundtrack to ‘Rita, Sue and Bob Too’; managing to pinpoint a climactic ending as the film pauses with the male protagonist in mid-air, leaping towards a bed with Union Jack duvet. Planned or otherwise, it works well. And they’re another succumbed to the lure of sampled structures; replacing post-rock guitars of old, but maintaining their same slow builds towards apocalypse. A stark contrast to local electronica artists Veí, whose downtempo sampling orchestra transforms the Salford Arms into a meeting atrium for hollow glockenspiel clacks, disparate ivories and lonely strings.

Willy Mason’s lure is strong enough to force a one-in-one-out scenario at the packed venue. One punter described the show as “underwhelming”, but that really depends on your expectation ahead of the performance of one man and a guitar. The next stop certainly isn’t underwhelming. Local band Easter have been causing a stir amongst post-rock purveyors and the good old-fashioned axe duelling belittles the need for rhythm guitars as instead intricate noodling harnesses roaring feedback.

Another genre shift back to laptop connoisseur Neko Neko. His squelchy electronic samples solder to Moby-esque ambient soundscapes, while submerged progressions of swooshes and minimal percussive stabs sink indolently before giving way to melodic harp twinkles.

Denis Jones then tackles the Soundtrack stage; an improv wizz in his natural habitat, his act is backed by visuals created from images of objects reacting to sound. Opting for a simple film tracking ball bearing movements, Jones also picks simple, steady loop layering patterns with acoustic guitar undercurrents and gradual introduction of electronic manipulations. The occasional recognisable songs, the typically soulful ‘Clap Hands’ being one, are supplemented by onstage collaborator David Schlechtriemen (aka The Pickpocket Network), who adds a disco remix monotony to the live compositions; the pair facing each other with gadgetry primed, evoking Fuck Buttons or worriedaboutsatan.

The finale is littered with uptempo electro of various persuasions. Capac at Salford Arms and Islington Mill festival-closers Anchorsong and D/R/U/G/S all sail aboard the good ship synth, navigating a sea of processed beats, while sandwiched between them are Fixers and Rainbow Arabia. Firstly, Oxford’s Fixers take on a soundtrack to looped cuts from Mariah Carey’s ‘Glitter’ video by pounding their combined keys, and yet more samples – this time directly influenced by the post-Animal Collective acclaim boom. If SFTOC is an indicator for the sounds from all other cities bubbling under the mainstream radar then there’s plenty more to add to this generation’s synthetic symphonies.

Apt then, is Rainbow Arabia’s headlining jaunt at the Old Pint Pot. Signed to revered German electronic music label Kompakt, the Afrobeat disco duo show themselves to be infinitely more energetic than a jaded and weary crowd; vocoded vocalist Tiffany Preston gyrates between elevated archways as her husband Danny operates a mini electronic orchestra in an engaging spectacle for the Pint Pot’s poky viewing confines.

Secret Wars seeks a different, more unusual path than student-seeking weeknight parties and huge weekend mega-parties. As well as allowing supporters to vote on who plays the night is profit free. All money goes towards paying for the artists, renting the space and renting sound equipment. As the night is not-for-profit there is less pressure to sell tickets, tickets are limited to around a hundred, meaning the nights feel comfortably intimate while still leaving plenty of space to dance.

The night’s organiser, Jim Hall, says the idea for Secret Wars “came out of doing nights and seeing the problems involved, especially as dubstep has become more widely known. The gigs are getting bigger and bigger due to competition. There’s nothing wrong with large gigs but there should be an alternative because you get a different atmosphere.

“There’s many aspects in and outside the city that make [the city's club scene] what it is,” he continues. “Overall though dubstep nights aren’t really putting in what they’re taking out. It’s not their duty at all but it’d be nice to see the word scene used as more than a euphemism for ‘market’.

“Across the genres though there’s a great deal going and things are very diverse. I do a weekly listings and as it comes together there’s some ‘wow’ weeks where you wish you could see everything. I don’t know if it’s because of the rise of social networking but people seem increasingly confident about getting on and organising things in and outside the clubs.”

Named after a famous 80s comic series (which forms the basis for the great promo material) Secret Wars has been running since November last year, ‘issue’ 3 will be happening on May 13 at Saki Bar on Wilmslow Road as part of the Future Everything Festival. Renowned Future Bass and House producer and DJ Cosmin TRG will be flying in especially to play.

Secret Wars definitely stands out as one of the most forward thinking nights in Manchester’s bass music scene at the moment, both in terms of artist selection and in helping to create a real, participatory scene around the night.The first issue saw Komanazmuk and Funk Ethics play while the second saw the Soup Kitchen in the Northern Quarter sold out as Shackleton performed one of his unique live sets. The artists are voted for by the Facebook groups, with the price being agreed upon before the event is made public.

“It helps make the whole thing more transparent and involved for the audience and brings a bit of fun back into an area of the genre that can take itself too seriously,” says Jim. The line-ups so far, particuarly Shackleton and Cosmin TRG, represent real leaders in their field – the types of bookings you might not find at more commercially-orientated club nights.

Jim is excited about the future of Secret Wars: “The next dates look really exciting, I’m really looking forward to them. Over time we’ll have a vote on other aspects of the night as well. I’m looking forward to seeing how that turns out.”

‘Not Just Another Christmas Gala’ was an eclectic mix of Christmas Carols and not-so-traditional tunes, brought by Elemental Opera, which give a different take on seasonal festivities.

Formed in April 2009, Elemental Opera are a Manchester troupe of various individuals from across the globe that met at the Royal Northern College of Music. Their previous production of Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia was a resounding success and was met with critical acclaim. It is upon this rising reputation that the group bring an unconventional production to the Engine House at the IAFB.

Split into the two halves, the programme consists of ‘the Serious Half’ of traditional Christmas Carols as well as some new additions and ‘The Irreverent Half’ of unconventional Christmas music. Terence Ayebare and Janet Fischer open proceedings with a very good rendition of ‘See Amid the Winter’s Snow’. Their performances oscillate between individual performances and all three partaking in rousing versions of various Christmas Carols. Walters occasionally throws in a few covers of Frank Sinatra’s famous songs such as ‘My Way’ as well as sing-alongs from the Sound of Music in an attempt to engage the small audience, which did work well.

Terence Ayebare’s singing throughout the evening was commanding, his deep voice excellent for the choice of songs, especially ‘some enchanted evening’, which he sang with great vigour. Walters interspersed helpings of contemporary, jazz and cabaret-style music might seem an odd choice of songs but worked well juxtaposed alongside the traditional Christmas Carols, even though it might not be to the liking of all. The most prominent part of the night came with Janet Fischer’s rendition of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’; an elegant performance that suited the soprano’s high voice, aided competently by Walters at the piano.

Although sometimes a sparse audience can be said to be a refection of the quality of the performance, in this case it most certainly wasn’t as Elemental Opera performed adeptly on the night.

Combining song, poetry and extracts from playwright Tayo Aloku’s award winning drama ‘Call Mr Robeson’, the event will run from seven until late at the International Anthony Burgess Centre on Cambridge Street in the city centre.

Manchester’s critically acclaimed Beating Wing Orchestra will be headlining and the night will also include readings from Small Rocks, a series of testimonies written by refugees and asylum seekers expressing their experiences of life in the UK. It will begin with a discussion of contemporary human rights concerns in Britain led by RAPAR founder Zeinab Mohammed and University of Central Lancaster academic Dr Alan Rice.

Best known for singing what many consider to be the definitive version of the spiritual Old Man River, one legendary 1949 gig held in support for the Manchester anti-racist organisation New Internationalist Society attracted 20,000 people to the streets of Moss Side to hear him perform. Not wishing to disappoint his fans, most of whom could not cram into the small New International Club, Robeson walked outside and sang for the vast crowd.

In a letter to the New International Society Robeson thanked the people of Manchester, saying “I can never forget that it was the people of Manchester and of the other industrial areas of Britain who gave me the understanding of the oneness of people – a concept upon which I have based my career as an artist and citizen.”

Robeson also gained fame, and some notoriety, for his outspoken political activism. He was himself the son of an escaped slave and became a committed fighter against racism, colonialism and exploitation. In recognition of this he was one of only three people to be awarded honorary membership of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade of Americans who volunteered to fight fascism in the Spanish Civil War.

Robeson’s socialist convictions brought him enemies and his passport was revoked under McCarthyism in 1950 due to his support for independence movements in the colonised world. His sympathies for the Soviet Union as what he saw as a deterrent to Western imperialism brought him controversy and his role in the wider civil rights movement in the US was quietly ignored in later years.

RAPAR and Commonword will honour Robeson’s achievements and ask what we can learn from his life today. Kath Grant from RAPAR said, “We hope to uncover the pressures on displaced people and express the urgent need to keep working for equality, the cause in which Paul Robeson so passionately believed.”

Tickets will be from £13 concessionary to £15 standard and can be booked by calling 0161 834 8221 or online at http://voicesandrivers.eventbrite.com with drinks and refreshments provided. All proceeds will go to RAPAR.

Ian Davenport

Eno’s 1983 album was created to accompany Al Reinart’s documentary For All Mankind. Put together painstakingly from hours of original footage of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, the film charts the trajectory of the astronauts from the moment they enter the space shuttle at the take-off platform overlooking Cape Canaveral, to their saunter on earth’s celestial sister and finally to their cushioned landing back on earth’s glittering seas.

Whilst Eno’s original is largely electronic in composition, Icebreaker opt for an interpretation of the piece through organic instrumentation. What they lose from the coldness of tone they make up in rich instrumental texturing, which shows how Eno would influence bands such as Mogwai, Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Sigur Ros; and in conjunction with the mesmerising footage the music conveys a dreamy vision of the landings.

Together the music and the film explore a series of themes that evoke philosophical questions about our place in the universe, time and distance and the aesthetics of technology. It is as much as tribute to the ferocious power of the industrial age as it is to space exploration itself: as the flames of the rocket shoot downwards in a solid ochre column, it is hard not to be awestruck by the centuries of toil and innovation which led to the epoch-making moment.

Throughout the spectacle the enormity of the distance is evoked not only visually, but through the ambience and isolation that the music suggests. The size of the craters and barren hills on the moon, presented in 35mm footage rarely seen on television, is awe-inspiring, and the brilliant luminosity of the moon is brought out all the more against the black abyss of space. During one sequence this combination of the audio and visual portrays a sense of childlike innocence and curiosity which can be seen as a metaphor for humankind in its constant exploration – whether by land, sea and air or internally. As the two astronauts bound across the surface, chasing one another in slow and bouncing steps and sending showers of dust flying, they have the air of children playing. But the sight of one of them falling over onto rocks, coupled with the tin-can technology of the pod in which they land, leaves you with your heart in your mouth; the evident vulnerability in which the two men find themselves strikes an incredible contrast with the boldness and audacity of the venture.

Later on we hear the sweet lilt of a pedal steel guitar (played by BJ Cole) and deliberately used by Eno as a reference to the fact that two of the three astronauts chose to take country music aboard the voyage. A sort of postmodern joke, this musical salute to country – and all its connotations of the cowboy and the unchartered American West – represents the paradox of culture folding in on itself as frontiers expand.

An introductory talk from a curator at the National Museum of Science ensured that the performance was not devoid of political context: the idea of man as an intrepid adventurer, mythologised from the times of the Odyssey to the American Wild West, was shattered when viewing the lunar missions as a symbolic victory of one socio-economic system over another. It feels like what we believed to be audacity was in fact a staggering arrogance. With the landing placed historically, all of the hubris of the cold war and its various races – whether for arms, territory or space – are exposed in a thought-provoking presentation. At times the slowness of the performance’s movement makes it soporific, but you cannot fail to leave the auditorium without having asked yourself that wistful question: will we ever do it again?

Michael Pooler