Bristol Beacon, 28th October 2024
As I am walking up to the Bristol Beacon on this moody Monday evening, the sky looks almost angry. Clouds darken the city with strands of the remaining light shining through. Immediately, I am welcomed by the calming presence of opener Daisy Rickman. Her white, flowing dress almost makes her radiate against the black backdrop. Paired with her angelic vocals, I can feel the tenseness lift from my shoulders and disappear into the beautiful sounds coming from the stage. The self-taught, multi-disciplinary Cornish artist treats the audience to a handful of ambient folk songs and brings us into the realm in which the different parts of her musical self operate and communicate. Even the occasional squeak coming from the strings is embraced as part of the ethereal sonic experience with which Daisy blesses the audience. Folk musicians like Daisy may not ‘warm up the crowd’ in a way you often see with more upbeat artists but she has the ability to make her character and soul shine through in her performance, making sure Bristol is ready to access those raw emotions buried deep inside and let the tears flow for the main act of the evening.
On this tour, Ben Howard plays his 2014 record I Forget Where We Were in full to celebrate its 10th anniversary – but not in the same way most artists celebrate these records. Unlike many other album anniversary shows I have attended, Ben Howard shuffles the tracks rather than playing them in album order. The show kicks off with ‘End Of The Affair’ and its acoustic first act, building up momentum to its almost cinematic, ominous and heartbreaking release. The nearly 8-minute-long track explores the theme of the hopelessness of the empty-handed party in the love triangle from Graham Greene’s 1951 novel of the same name. There is almost a hint of irony to be found in this song as the opener for Ben Howard’s nearly 2-hour show; a slow yet commanding introduction to the performance, immediately followed by the tragic lyrics of the second act: “This is it? Well this is desert. Go to him. What the hell, love?”. The atmospheric, expansive yet glooming feel of the first song is immediately contrasted with the optimism of ‘She Treats Me Well’. It is barely quarter past nine, and Ben Howard has already showcased his deft skill on the guitar, storytelling lyricism that transcends the communicative traits that folk music is known for, as well as the craftsmanship and passion of his fellow musicians on stage, and the spectrum of emotion available on this dark, mature soundscape of Howard’s own psyche. The choice to shuffle the album’s tracklist in this order has already proven itself to be outstanding – three songs in and I feel the music swirling throughout my entire body. The bassier tones and harrowingly excruciating lyrics feel like a pit in my stomach, yet the playfulness of optimism, the acoustic guitar, and classical instruments offer an immense relief, toying with the essence of human emotion, begging us all to ask the haunting question in ‘Small Things’: “Has the world gone mad, or is it me?”
‘In Dreams’, one of the more upbeat songs on the record regardless of its sad undertones, is the only track on the album and setlist that is under 4 minutes long – making me wonder if hearing it was just a fever dream as it continues into the expansive, steadily building, pulsating rhythm of ‘Time Is Dancing’. A long instrumental outro, followed by the percussion-heavy ‘Rivers In Your Mouth’, and I can’t help but feel like the show is losing some of its momentum. Some of the slower tracks – which are some of Howard’s best-sounding work – don’t all seem to translate as well in a live setting. Maybe some tracks just sound better in the comfort of loneliness and emotional melodrama, rather than a crowded room of people. Whilst there is some respectful chatter in the back of the room, the crowd still engages with the immersive performance happening in front of them. At this point, the production starts to catch my eye. Double-layered video content is displayed on the sculpture representing a large tree overshadowing the stage, with colourful visuals and film presented to the audience as a mixed-media experience. The lights shining through the gaps between the screens, illuminating the hall, reminds me of the remaining light casting through the clouds earlier this evening, and for a moment I feel connected to the outside world just as much as what is happening inside this room.
I often describe a good gig as one that will temporarily make me forget that there is a world outside those doors – including all its suffering, joy, and the never-ending presence of time. This show made me ever so aware of the world outside those doors but in all the best ways. The setlist provides a soundtrack to our thoughts and worries, to the suffering as well as the joy, and to the knowledge that time is always passing. Ben makes some remarks about time and emotions, playing these songs in different moods than they were originally written in, reminiscing on shows. The connection to both the performance happening right in front of me, and the knowledge that the earth will keep spinning regardless, was comforting for once. Rather than escaping whatever is out there bringing you down, I feel forced to embrace and accept it the mature way – a type of emotional maturity so well represented all throughout the record. Whatever it is, it will pass, and I know that to be true as the words to ‘All Is Now Harmed’ echo around the Main Hall.
My favourite track on the album, ‘Conrad’, marks the nearing end of the performance with only two songs left to play. In my right ear, I hear the woman next to me harmonise with the vocalists on stage and I can’t help but smile from ear to ear. “We’re alone, just like you said”, yet there is comfort in knowing 2100 folks are singing these words together, proving we are never really alone.
‘I Forget Where We Were’, the album’s title track, creates a captivating end to the show in its current live rendition. For a moment, I wonder if there is a problem with the sound, or if it is all part of the experience. I can feel the vibrations of my music in my bones, and the build-up of the harmonies briefly transports me to another realm. Brightly coloured lights and almost trippy visuals close the show under the guidance of the song’s instrumentals, wrapping up this performance perfectly. Relieved that Howard closes off this immersive, atmospheric, emotional night with a track with so much emotion and build, as the song implies, I briefly forget where we were. Maybe it was peace at last, but Ben Howard’s musical brilliance, bordering insanity, is worth every album anniversary for sure.
Words and photos: Willemjin Denneman, no use without permission.
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