A night that was ecstatic, emotional and everything in-between.
NOW IT'S ON
It had to happen really.
Over time, Grandaddy/Jason Lytle has assembled a technicolour panoramic and widescreen back catalogue that has served as a soundtrack for the sensitive and soulful since 1998. His songs have comforted folk with good ears as they struggle to contend with the dizzying issues that modern living and loving presents. On the one hand Lytle is the consummate chronicler of the sound of breaking hearts, putting words and feelings into songs that in everyday life can be the most difficult to adequately express. On the other hand his music has served to open peepholes and lugholes to the majesty and wonder of a natural world struggling against the rampant bludgeoning of its inherent beauty in the name of greed and 'progress'.
For more than a quarter of a century now Jason has strived to achieve a sound that he himself christened Orchestrareal. As he moves into the mild dotage of his career, a look back reveals plenty of evidence that suggests his quest has been successful. Both his more celebrated efforts and also those songs hidden in the obscure nooks and crannies of his discography ( Hawaiian Island Wranglers/Live and Die in L.A for instance) clearly point to the developing creation of a unique and recognisable sound, and with every new album he has gravitated closer to his fabled Orchestrareal.
Can you name any other band's songs that sounds like Grandaddy/Jason Lytle?
I was asked the other day "What kind of music is it?" and I was stumped. It is rock, it is pop but those terms don't do it justice, which suggests that Jason has created something entirely unique.
When it was announced that Lytle's songs were to be accompanied by a bona-fide orchestra, it hinted that their creator was ready to apply his vision for the songs in a format that the muse may have intended for them since their birth. In real terms it meant that the stately beauty inherent in his compositions was set to fly on the wings of wind and strings, and for those lucky enough to be in attendance tonight, we would witness them soaring majestically.
A very special evening began with the perfect support act. Malojian's astonishing vocals and carefully crafted songs were entirely suited to the mood of expectation enveloping Manchester's Albert Hall, a perfect and atmospheric setting for such a night. Hailing from Northern Ireland, he is very much cut from the Lytle cloth (they collaborated on Malojian's wonderful 2020 album HUMM which was released at the height of lockdown and was one of the albums of that year - buy it now!) and tonight Malojian beguiled both Mancunians and those from further afield with five acoustic songs that showcased his extraordinary voice and song-writing craftmanship. Damp from his fourth album (you heard right, its called Let Your Weirdness Carry You Home and now you're wondering how come you've never heard of him, correct?) opens in a slightly off kilter manner before working its way through to a lovely and loving optimistic serenity.
HUMM's gentle Burns with its singalong melody and Cooder-esque guitar licks is a wonderful highlight tonight whilst Walking Away, stripped of its Pixies-like stomp is splendid too. Julie-Anne gently bounces along and in it's Richard Hawley-like chorus it has a moment that in a parallel universe would have thousands in a festival field singing along. HUMM's Tsundoko stripped of it's jaunt takes on a different, more wistful vibe. And then he was gone! Malojian, like the headliner, deserves for more attention and it is a baffling conundrum that artists like Malojian and Jason Lytle exist and the (ahem) hit parade is devoid of truly great songs (you'll be hearing that term again before this is over). My only complaint about Malojian's performance was its brevity and that I would have loved to hear And The Thief Came In which is a stop-you-dead-in-your-tracks masterpiece, musically and lyrically. Maybe I will have to wait for his Chinook-chestra Tour in 2038.
If you haven't delved into Malojian yet you really must. He is criminally under-rated and you will find much by way of reward and gobsmacking wonder in your discovery.(https://malojian.bandcamp.com/).
After an all too brief visit to Malojianland we travelled towards the magical and mysterious aural landscapes that Jason Lytle paints in his head.
Lytle's music has always had a Twin-Peaks-otherworldly sheen to it and once the Lost Machine Orchestra settled into their seats and had taken up arms, the weeping, sweeping sway they emitted to introduce Sarah 5646776 was startlingly evocative of the gentle cascade that accompanies the title sequence of David Lynch's own televisual masterpiece (another Lytle collaborator incidentally). Jason then appeared on stage to a tumult of noise which once subsided allowed him to add some fragile vocals to the understated glory rippling through the hall. The premise of this tour was to play Grandaddy's 'masterpiece' The Sophtware Slump in it's entirety. I am never sure if I consider the album to be Grandaddy's masterpiece since I feel every album Lytle has released could rightfully lay claim to that title. The lo-fi charm and beauty that introduced the band to the world, Under The Western Freeway, contained three fantastic singles and the alluring and melancholic closing triumvirate of Go Progress Chrome, Why Took Your Advice and Lawn and So On. The Sophtware Slump saw a millennial leap in the application of Lytle's increasingly sophisticated song-writing to vinyl, whilst Sumday saw a definitive Grandaddy sound hitting it's stride with real confidence and a little more production polish (and amongst some consistently sublime compositions, it included a truly great moment in The Warming Sun). When Just Like the Fambly Cat was released it was in the knowledge that the band would be no more and as such it made for a bittersweet listen, and yet it contained shining brilliance in Summer It's Gone (surely a contender for special treatment when Jason and the Orchestra were choosing their set) Rear View Mirror, and This Is How It Always Starts. Lytle's solo albums have been at least equal to the Grandaddy songbook with sparkling gems like Furget It, Birds Encouraged Him, Rollin' Home Alone, Matterhorn, the truly incredible Last Problem of the Alps and the monumental Somewhere There's A Someone.
2017 saw Grandaddy's return, and Last Place continued the faultless procession of brilliance. This Is The Part and Lost Machine are two stunning compositions that fit into the now bulging catalogue of J.Lytle credited truly great songs (told you you'd hear it again), and they were evidence (if it were needed) that his song-writing excellence showed no sign of diminishing.
But tonight it is music journalist's favourite The Sophtware Slump's chance to shine, and you can't really go wrong when the opening song from that album is the magnum opus of He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot. The attention to detail on the arrangements tonight was forensic as the Orchestra made up of violins, cellos, xylophones/glockenspiels, clarinet, bassoon, double bass, French horn, drums and guitar drove He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot through its various shifting shapes to a subtle crescendo whilst Jason sang expressively and emotively alongside one of his finest compositions. The joyous romp of Hewlett's Daughter was smilingly and lovingly restored before we were taken on a trip towards The Crystal Lake which was somehow only a little less rockier than the original version and, much to Jason's glee I imagine, it had a whiff of Jeff Lynne about it. Similarly, Chartsengrafs positively fizzed (and popped) before a quietly magnificent Underneath the Weeping Willow reduced the Albert Hall to a blubbering mess. It is really something to witness a crowd of close to 2000 people, many imbued with an intake that removes inhibitions, descend into a reverential and awe-struck hush. Grown men then did that shoulder shrug /"I'm not crying" gesture and were no doubt relieved when a clarinet/double bass/xylophone driven Broken Household Appliance National Forest ruffled the scarlet foliage that spread across the stage/pirouetted up the mic stands, subtly reminding us that nature needs our protection.
Throughout Grandaddy's history (on EPs and at least three albums) we have learned of the tragedy that was Jed the Humanoid's attempts to adapt to the human world. Lytle explained that he and the Orchestra had decided to amalgamate the references to him onto one biographical JED Symphonie (lest we forget the Gallic input into this extraordinary venture) and it made for a captivating and prettily melancholy 14 minutes or so, allowing the Orchestra to reach into the emotional depths of the songs and embellish them with shiny musical baubles.
During a brief interlude Jason tongue in cheekily claimed credit for the invention of Google Earth and gave an explanation of the story behind Miner at the Dial A View before a pretty faithful rendition was unleashed. An emotionally wrought and subtly dramatic You'll Aim Towards the Sky then took off with the crowd more than willing passengers. When the final piano note was hit there was an explosion of adoration, everyone of the opinion that they had witnessed something very special indeed. Jason slipped off stage briefly whilst the Orchestra played the intriguing E Knievel Interlude.
Having delivered on his promise to play The Sophtware Slump in its entirety we were now treated further with an Everyone's-A-Winner dip into the back catalogue. The extra orchestral flourishes on Lost On Yer Merry Way added some sumptuous melody lines to one of Lytle's best loved songs and then set the controls to symphonic rock on the outro. Next up was This Is the Part which contains one of his most heart-breaking lyrics ("This is the part/Some call a broken heart/Put down the the phone/There's no one coming home") and it is one of his truly great songs (there, I said it again). It was a quite magnificently moving stomp and sway, and it got me wondering why there are not more of Lytle's songs on film soundtracks for instance.
The Saddest Vacant Lot is a further case in point and tonight was given even more emotional weight with the added bassoon, strings and double bass, and then by contrast The Go in the 'Go For It' built measuredly into a jolly jaunt along.
With the opening bars of The Warming Sun there was a sensed realisation that we were now being spoilt with another of Jason's truly great (yup) compositions, and tonight it was exactly that with additional hints of Brian Wilson and John Barry orchestration - it was that good. The Lost Machine Orchestra being Jason's partner in the crime of the theft of hearts tonight, it had to be the case that the song Lost Machine would receive an airing . The string intro approximated the mournful sound of whale songs as those unmistakeable opening and shattering notes were plucked. This epic then built into a quite magnificent Wagnerian claustrophobic crescendo before the final third of the song gave way to crashing and crushing strings. It was quite simply - wrenchingly wonderful.
As a final treat we were given a rendition of a new composition entitled Happy Little Kid that bears all the hallmarks of some of Lytle's finest songs. Of course, a new song indicates that a new album could be in the offing too. Whether it be Grandaddy or Jason Lytle, he knows where to find us when something good happens.
The Lost Machine Orchestra experiment has been an incredible success not least because it has confirmed the quality of the compositions that Lytle has in his weather-worn back pockets and that some (hell, yeah!) are truly great songs. What is remarkable is that Jason has kept up this high water mark consistently for twenty five years. Most artists produce two or three great albums then either disappear or fade away (as Uncle Neil said), but Lytle's music is still as relevant and still as brilliant as it was in his considered Sophtware pomp.
Although Grandaddy and Jason Lytle might be seen as established names in indie circles, it is certainly the case that he is under-appreciated and still unknown to many who would laud lesser songwriters. One theory might be that this is a deliberate ploy on the part of someone not particularly enamoured by the business called 'show', and it seems he is in a position now where he can dip in and out as he pleases. The theory I subscribe to is that Lytle's whole back catalogue of brilliant songs and thoughtful lyrics are buried beneath the myth of this 'one great album'. As suggested earlier, The Sophtware Slump is indeed a magnificent long player, but it is not an aberration, more an example of the sustained and consistent greatness of his songs, be they group or solo. A writer from these shores could have been describing different types of Jason Lytle songs when he suggested "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."
Jason Lytle and The Lost Machine Orchestra was everything we could have hoped for and more. It made for a special and quite wonderful evening.
Comentários