exhibit
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EDITORS: Richard Ainslie and Bryony Gooch
music
11 NOV 2019
Silence of the jams O
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Adam Goldsmith reviews local charity festival OxJam, showcasing the best of Exeter
XJAM, a series of local music festivals run by volunteers all over the country, made its way to Exeter on Saturday 26 October. This year’s organiser Becky Grinham, a well-known member of Exeter’s musical scene, set on Exeter Phoenix as the perfect venue for the event (with the addition of a choir showcase in the nearby St David’s Church). So I trekked to the venue through the miserable weather, hoping to be cheered up by some decent music from some new acts. I wasn’t disappointed. Cold Lips played early in the day, and despite the band’s relative youth (they can’t even have been old enough to buy a lottery ticket) the sound that eventually erupted from the four-piece after a delayed sound-check was tight and thoroughly enjoyable. Situated in Studio 1 of the Phoenix upstairs, it felt like watching a band trying some new stuff in their parent’s garage, and that’s not intended as an insult. Next up were Seneca. This band is loud. Very loud. It is angsty rock: they describe themselves as Download Festival kids and that’s where they truly belong, encouraging a load of mud-covered fans to thrash about to the lead vocalist’s angry remonstrations. Perhaps the most notable element of their performance
was the singer’s intense stare; I swear he didn’t blink for the duration of an entire song. On a totally different note came Jake Loosemore, a singer/songwriter not out of place in the workshop’s pub-like setting downstairs. Finishing on a “depressing” version of Oasis’s ‘Wonderwall’, Loosemore could easily draw comparisons with John Mayer; he played two of Mayer’s songs and central to his set is his string-plucking ability on the guitar. Next up were Charlstonray, producing tunes which wouldn’t be out of place in one of those cool house parties everyone secretly hopes to host. Their sound was muscular, consisting of everything from steel drum synths to a live saxophone, accompanied by the vocalist’s Loyle Carner-esque tones, drifting over the melody and creating a vibe that begs you to buy a beer and have a dance. Next up, after a considerable delay in setting up his equipment, Lonely Eddie took to the stage. It’s enthralling to watch as he multitasks his way through playing keyboard, drums and singing; observing his performance, it’s easy to understand why he is often referred to as Exeter’s answer to Jack Garratt. Then came Drake's Island, whose popularity is perhaps best described by the fact I was forced to watch their moody set through a
doorway. This is unsurprising given that they consist of various stalwarts of the South-West music scene, including Jamie Yost and Matthew Gordon Price, both successful artists in their own right. To be fair, their music isn’t bad either. They draw frequent comparisons to Ben Howard, which admittedly simplifies them, but does capture the essence of a Drake Island performance, characterised by drifting guitars and moody vocals. Fusea were the day’s penultimate act. This is a band consisting of two thirds of Exeter favourites Pattern Pusher, and the lead singer, whose downbeat vocals, contrasted a vibrant, guitar-driven beat. Think Joy Division, except with that hint of Pattern Pusher that simply insists on a dance.
an indication that you must. You’ll never know what you’ll find, and trust me, it’ll even be worth braving the inevitably dreadful winter weather.
LONELY EDDIE IS OFTEN REFERRED TO AS EXETER'S ANSWER TO JACK GARRATT This was a fantastic event, showcasing a wide variety of music acts to cater for every taste, and the acts I spoke to were delighted with the strong turnout. If you haven’t been out and supported Exeter’s local artists, this is
Image: Leo Webb
Bringing it Bach to basics Exeposé Music Writers recall their favourite classical pieces
ON THE NATURE OF DAYLIGHT
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AX Richter’s ‘On the nature of Daylight’ is a devastatingly beautiful homage to human suffering. Written in protest of the Iraq War, Richter examines the fragility of the human condition through melody. The weeping of violins that swell to a heartbreaking crescendo, as if a seeping wound, leave you cold. The high solo violin is so raw and visceral, it transports you back to inescapable tragedies that we all experience, to the inevitability of human loss, to the news you don’t want to face, to the trauma you don’t want to revisit. His work is guttural. Its slow build-up - a dull ache roused in me a grief, for loved ones that I’ve lost and moments i can’t relive. You feel freed by it, a catharsis for a grief that is indescribable. Richter crafts such an impassioned portrayal of how agonising life can be that you are rendered motionless. Catherine Lloyd, Copy Editor
ANDANTE, Concerto 21
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HEN I think of beautiful music, I think of Mozart. And out of all 626 recorded Mozart compositions, no piece comes to my mind as being more exquisite than the ‘Andante’ of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.21 in C Major, K.467. The second I hear the opening of this composition, the muted strings and the dreamy melody, all worries and pains leave me, and it seems that nothing else matters in the world; the solo piano of the piece’s second section is graceful and delicate, and, for lack of better words, absolutely gorgeous. The K.467 ‘Andante’ is without a doubt the most beautiful and sublime piece of classical music I have ever heard, and, alongside the rest of his simply astounding oeuvre, cements Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart as the greatest classical composer, if not the greatest musical artist, of all time. William Thornton
SYMPHONY NO. 5
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WILL always cherish Beethoven’s ‘Symphony No. 5 in C Minor’. I was first introduced to it via Disney’s Fantasia 2000 and the animation of sublime volcanic eruptions and beams of light, paired with intricate string phrases that are echoed across the orchestra in absolute cohesion, drew me in. Thus, when I became a violinist and was able to play the piece as part of a large orchestra, that initial excitement I felt as a child returned and was heightened. Beethoven, through just four notes, engages an entire orchestra. It is the most unified I have ever felt whilst performing and the feeling it created is hard to describe. There is no room for error or distraction as the iconic opening is dependent on bows moving at precisely the same time with uniform direction and feeling. It is a symphony that is inherently mesmerising and engaging. Agnes Chapman-Wills
SWAN LAKE
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CHAIKOVSKY'S ‘Swan Lake’ ballet is an integral part of my childhood, of asking my mum how long I would have to wait to get pointe shoes and watching VHS tapes of the Bolshoi. The best example of the grandiose energy this work exudes is probably the finale, whose leitmotif will be familiar, but throughout the ballet there are so many special moments, from spellbinding flourishes in pas de deux that conjure ethereal ballerinas to epic ensemble sequences. And what, retrospectively, I am most grateful to Tchaikovsky for, is for showing little me through music that one can be a ballet dancer and still be powerful, strong, legendary. Tchaikovsky’s white swan princess is never bland, never a fixed thing, always volatile in the best way. She’s femininity and aggressiveness and magic all in one. Anne Chafer, Deputy Editor
Images (L to R): Henry W Laurisch; Barbara Krafft (1764-1825)
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