Live review: Trampoline

The Wee Red Bar, Edinburgh
Saturday 16 January

Tonight, the Wee Red feels more like a sit-down session than a gig. Lounged-out upholstery speckles the venue and scores of incoming punters are making best use of the situation by parking their posteriors and slurping slowly on cheap ale. Perhaps it’s an indictment of the Edinburgh music scene’s languid start to 2010, but the lethargy that permeates Trampoline’s first outing of the year is almost tangible.

Some sympathy, then, must be lent to Thomas Western. The uphill battle of stirring the sleepy masses is challenging enough. To do it armed with just an acoustic guitar and a frail, threadbare voice borders on lunacy. Yet Western is nothing if not persistent and he gets to work belting out polished, folksy matter like a bull-headed street preacher oblivious to his surroundings.

The trouble with such brittle laments is that they’re the perfect accompaniment for idle chit-chat. And as the Derby-born songwriter coos through a set of muted reflection the escalating hum of conversation drowns out his tender tones. Such gentle purring will always find a home in Edinburgh’s troubadour-hugging bosom, but Western’s downtrodden songsmithery and reticent mannerisms lack the sufficient hypnosis to engage attention, never mind clear the cobwebs of the post-festive period malaise.

Fortunately, Over the Wall are on hand to shake off the slumber. Bleeding positivity, the Glasgow duo of Ben Hillman and Gav Prentice launch into an ebullient indie pop spectacle that resuscitates the comatosed crowd. Squeezing out hyperactive, synth-spangled romps like they’ve sniffed an ounce of aural laxative, the spectrum of keys, brass and guitar played at breakneck speed is an irresistible kickstart that finally lifts the Wee Red to its feet.

This shot of adrenaline is underpinned by a craft that belies the pairing’s delinquent playfulness. Cornerstoned by generous slivers of melody layered over complex rhythms, the band’s meticulous arrangements make a mockery of their self-effacing claims. Closing number 'Thurso' is a prime example of this embellished guile: slow paced and preening, it takes shape as a trumpeting crescendo that has palms clapping, feet stomping and hearts racing. It's all to the beat of a band, undoubtedly, on the rise.

With ear-canals fully lubricated, an air of expectancy greets the arrival of headliners How to Swim. Jostling for space on the Wee Red’s not-inconsiderable floor, the nine-sided ensemble din like no-one else. A plunder of brass, string and percussion detonates as an avant-garde trill; below this wall of instrumentation lies Ink Wilson’s unmistakable crow, desperate to orchestrate cohesion amidst the chaos.

It’s an exhilarating trip that spoons myriad styles into one brilliant, bubbling pot. Trouble is, there’s just too many cooks stirring in too many ingredients. There’s no doubting the quality of the compositions – each is an intelligent slab of voluptuous art-pop - but the sheer scope feels disorientating and overwhelming. By constantly showcasing the entire suite of instruments, the set becomes a dishevelled sprawl that loses focus and, sadly, becomes ineffectual. For sure, How to Swim have created an impenetrable sonic shield, but tonight they could benefit from letting a few people in.

As the final notes fade from stage to be replaced by the sound of bombastic applause, one thing is achingly clear: In the space of just three hours, Edinburgh’s live music scene has finally kicked into gear.

Words: Billy Hamilton
Photos: Su Anderson