Her Name is Calla have, in a relatively short space of time, crept into my list of most-seen bands. I've not seen them so much lately, however, not least of all because they've played fewer dates within easy reach. So the last time I saw them was on the eve of the release of their debut album proper, the critically-acclaimed sprawling epic that is 'The Quiet Lamb'. Tonight's show marks the last date of an extensive European tour which has seen the band playing lengthy sets in far-flung locations. As such, it's something of a homecoming.
I had read via the medium of social networking that the previous night in Bristol had been loud, and speaking to the Duchess' promoter beforehand, was inoirmed that I could expect some serious volume tonight. So, as I sat drinking my Newcastle Brown at my candlelit table, I began to hope that I might be in for a treat, while also wondering if positioning the early arrivals in such close proximity to stage and speakers in such a fashion wasn't like leading (quiet) lambs to some kind of sonic slaughter.
Where's Hollywood certainly did nothing to diminish that sense of optimism, and proved to be well worth turning up early for. They delivered a set that was uptempo and, surprisingly, more rock than post-rock save for the noodlesome mathy guitar lines, short guitar straps and absence of vocals. Theirs is an unusual instrumental configuration consisting of three guitarists and no bassist. This is more than compensated by the superlative drumming that's hard and solid. The sound is crisp and clear, too, although a certain amount of credit must go to the venue and sound man for that. But the band can take full credit for the full-on crunching rock riffery that punctuate the set - not post-rock crescendos, but proper, big-nuts guitar racket where three guitars is definitely better than one or even two.
Having seen her Name is Calla's ranks swell and, at times, reach the scale of a small orchestra, seeing them take to the stage as a simple four-piece for the first time in years seems slightly strange. They begin the set gently, with drummer Adam behind the keyboard and playing an almost neo-classical piece that slowly mutated, incorporating sampled monologue and iPhone to create a rarefied atmosphere. 'Long Grass' and 'Pour More Oil' were delivered with a focus that only fed the intensity of hearing quiet songs played at such volume.
Reaching way back into the back catalogue, they put substantial flesh on the bones of early single 'The White and the Skin', before really stepping things up a notch with 'Maw', the lead track from their new post-album EP. The bottom line is that it rocks - surprising for a song with so much trombone. 'Condor and River' is immense. Thom Corah's screams are positively spine-chilling as the sound erupts in the explosive mid-section.
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The set is concluded with a triptych of racks from 'The Heritage', beginning with 'Nylon'. I’d almost forgotten what an incredible song this is, and tonight it’s both poignant and pulverizing, from the monumental drum sound at the start, to the colossal crescendo that marks its conclusion, during which bassist Michael claws the notes from his instrument... I can almost feel a lump in my throat, but there's no let-up before they begin the slow build-up to the climactic finale of 'Motherfucker! It's Alive and Bleeding', which is dark and brooding in the long and gloriously inexorable build-up to its roaring, fiery crescendo that's raw and impassioned and of a scale that's beyond immense. The band mayn be exhausted after their long haul, but show no signs of flagging as they close with a punishing rendition of 'New England'. In the absence of violinist Sophie, you might expect the sound to be thinner than usual, but it's not only the volume that compensates: the four of them are pouring every fibre of their collective beings into these final minutes of what's been a challenging tour, and the result is completely electric. The immense barrage of feedback that rips from the speakers during this extended catharsis is staggering. Drums topple and strings dangle, broken as they leave us with our ears ringing, drained but exhilarated.
I may have seen them more times than I can count, but this stands as one of the best gigs I've seen them play. In fact, live shows don't come much better than this.
Her Name is Calla Online
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