Every time I pass through the doors at Union Chapel - built in 1877 and a Grade II listed building - I'm prepared for a near-religious experience. Maybe it's the notion that music, a form of worship for many, myself included, might find its rightful place and respect in such a venue. Certainly those who attended the legendary Arcade Fire perform here, a couple of years back, would testify to this. The last time I walked through these doors, Mark Kozelek was on the altar and I witnessed one of the most spellbinding shows I've ever seen despite being in constant pain, my behind numbed by those damn wooden pews. Then, like tonight, I forgot to bring a cushion.
So will The Wilkommen Collective's embrace the divine tonight? A clutch of musicians and songwriters who play in each other's bands, members of the Brighton-based collective make up Shoreline, Sons of Noel and Adrian and The Leisure Society who form the guts of tonight's entertainment. It's a family affair, as they say...
Manchild cherub ROWAN COUPLAND opens the show, serenading the arriving punters as soon as the doors are unbolted. Wandering amongst the pews with harp, guitar and a motley crew of a chorus in tow, Coupland's attempts at audience participation don't quite work out as planned - it's a brave attempt, but ultimately foolhardy to ask a stranger, fresh from the tube to sing along - where's the foreplay?
Luckily Coupland succeeds in charming, with a syrupy minstrel-ish tone that fills the awesome space around him. He will pop up again throughout the night, moonlighting in a variety of bands. It's a leitmotif that characterises the very essence of the Wilkommen family.
Up next are SHORELINE, the eight piece 'mother band' of the collective. Playing tracks from their nouveau folky debut, Time Well Spent, co-vocalist Beatrice has a smiling and seductive charm with a voice to match. Tuneful grumblings from Sons of Noel and Adrian's Tom Cowan punctuate rambling songs of real substance and craft.
SWEET BILLY PILGRIM are something of an anomaly on the bill. While they're able songwriters and performers, there is too much geekery at work in what they do - at least there's too much of it onstage. Social-club banter prefixes each song in an attempt to mask complex guitar tuning-up and effects pedal adjustments. Had the whole thing been stage managed better, perhaps this could have been avoided. As it stands, many in the crowd use this as an excuse for a toilet break or a chance for a refill at the bar, missing a few genuinely wonderful moments within their otherwise unremarkable set. Musically they are beyond competent - they're just not much in terms of performers and less organic that the Wilkommen troupe.
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So it's SONS OF NOEL & ADRIAN who reign us all back to our seats - Tom Cowan's amazing vocal rumble (again) finding its perfect partner in the acoustics of Union Chapel. The Sons are an underrated gem right now in Britain, producing some of the most emotive and timeless songwriting around. I spent a year traveling South America and listened to their album on repeat for half that time - the pastoral sound reminding me what's so great about Britain while I was stuck in the sweltering sub-tropics of Bolivia.
Closing with The Wreck is Not a Boat, a mantra-ridden masterpiece from their debut album, there's much love in the audience for these guys, many in the crowd clearly hearing them for the first time - and well and truly bowled over.
So to the top of the bill: it's obvious that THE LEISURE SOCIETY are the reason many have ventured here tonight and the Ivor Novello nominated 'Last of the Melting Snow' is greeted rapturously, as is the set opener, a splendidly anthemic reworking of Gary Numan's Cars. Among the collective, they seem to represent the point where the sound crosses over from folk into elements of the Laurel Canyon sound. It's mature songwriting, as evidenced by the Novello nomination.
Sadly, we're not treated to much more as their set is cut short due to timing problems - but it's not enough to dampen the mood. When it's all over, the audience remain in pews, stamping feet for an encore. A shame then that we're in residential Islington and such an event would risk the license of this magnificent venue...thank god (literally) the bar has a late license and there's more Wilkommeners up there to take us into the early hours (and alcohol to help numb the pains in our collective asses...)
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