The Boxer Rebellion + We Are Augustines @ HMV Institute, 9th March 2011

Brooklyn based We Are Augustines (don’t ask!) is the latest collaborative brain-incubus of vocalist Bill McCarthy and Eric Sanderson. Bill is a big-bear of man with ubiquitous checked shirt and gruff, growling vocals and a laugh like a thirsty dredger. A laconic dude and loving it all.

Myspace genres them as ’Chinese Pop/Healing & Easy Listening/Melodramatic Pop’ – that, whilst engaging, is mostly bollocks. With both semi-acoustic strum thrashing guitar and likewise semi-acoustic bass guitar making merry mayhem, their infectious stadium Billypoke and judicious use of samples has the ‘Burrrminghaam’ punters going giddy. Springsteen, Tom Petty and even The Who are somewhere in there. Above all, ‘Chapel Song’ leapt out and mugged my psyche with its anthemic Arcade Fire majestic swoops and Bunnymen broodiness. Exhausting, barking fun but never comedic.

Setlist: Rise, Book of James, Strange Days, Juarez, Gospel, Chapel Song, (solo Tom Petty song?), Patient Man.

Interesting band name; not about stroppy pedigree dogs or pugilists on strike for health & safety issues. It was an indigenous uprising in late 19th China against British imperialism following the Opium Wars, ie dealer’s monopoly, ours. Can you imagine HM Gov. inc. exporting lethal merchandising to foreign powers today?

The Boxer Rebellion have a passioned focus and utter self-belief that comes of talent, dedication and being in for the long haul. These attributes, and of course a scorching set, reminded me of The Parlotones for this singular vision. In the middle of a UK/European/US tour they were gratified to be welcomed back to Birmingham by a most enthusiastic crowd. Grounded in, but not grounded down by, alt.rock/indie psychedelic influences, the dynamic edge of their formidable intensity (notwithstanding subtle textured melancholic romanticism, of which more later) lies with the big man in black, guitarist/keyboards, Todd Howe. In the opener, ‘Step Out The Car’ (and their lyrics are worthy of study) his grandiose, but never grandstanding, powered riffs and pedal effects (presumably created by Prof. Gonzo on Planet Weird) amongst many others, evoked the glacial-shifting landscapes of Sigur Ros.

Next came ’Organ Song’ which does as it says. A plaintive, sombre musing that climaxed with drummer, Piers Hewitt, spewing the stage with a monster skip of primal percussionary outrage. ‘Cowboys’ had Howe interrogating his black Gibson beyond any Human Rights protocols eliciting moody, musk scented Arabian key signatures. Vocalist, Nathan Nicholson is a man of many shades. His introspective aura of self-control belies a raging soul that throughout the set saw him hand clasped with passion that often sent him falsetto soaring to Zen denizens far far away. New song ‘Caught By The Light’ had subtle cadences of clean guitar chords made angelic by Jeff Buckley. But this number has a hymnal lamentation all of its own. If I write up all my notes this will be a dissertation so, moving on. I did feel the middle set got a little bit lost with ersatz U2 meanderings, not that the crowd would agree. But I’ll be damned if ‘Spitting Fire’ wasn’t one cracker of an indie/shoe-gaze dancer with a side-order of synthpop cheekiness. ‘Semi-Automatic’ saw guitarist, Howe, not only get off his head but also off the stage as he leaped into the security pit. Yes, the Earth moved for all of us when he landed. Perhaps introducing a song with, ‘This is another one about death, called ‘Doubt’,’ might not have been what we were expecting but its minor chord, evocative splendour had the place transfixed.

Finally came the, and I mean THE, set closer of all time. Imagine a PMT Lady Macbeth doing a guest slot with Napalm Death, because it might preserve your sanity when witnessing the utter sonic filth riff rock ‘n roll of ‘Water Melon’. Primal Scream would sell their bus-passes to the Devil and swear everlasting sobriety to have a song like this. Everything is up to eleven and above. Howe’s writhing on his back with enough feedback sustain to cauterize Gaddafi’s colon. And where’s Nicholson got to? Smack in the middle of the audience giving it conga bonkers sing along time. Bassist, Adam Harrison, discreetly placed his guitar amp-stack face forwards and left us with ear bleeding feedback and a polite cheery O. No encore could match that and wisely the contrast came with ‘No Harm’, its gentle counterpoint keyboards and vocals creating a fragile gem. Last up came ‘Goro’ and off they went again. Touches of Doors dronal ‘The End’ augmented terse insistent keyboard chords as banshee feedback guitar choirs of doom laid waste to ear-drums of corrupted innocence. Reassuringly intensive and youth well misspent.

Setlist: Step Out of the Car, Organ Song, Cowboys, Flashing, Caught by the Light, If You Run, Evacuate, Memo, Both Sides, Spitting Fire, The Runner, Semi-Automatic, Doubt, Water Melon. (encore) No Harm, Cause/Basement, Goro.

Review – John Kennedy
Photos – Ian Dunn

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