Good afternoon INTARWUBS!
So a couple of weeks back I turned to Kaz and was like "So, you wanna go see Jonah Matranga melt some faces?" and she was all like "Awesomesauce!" and so we hitched up the wagon and moseyed on down to the Kingston Peel for some red-hot Rock Action.
The venue's tiny, basically a small bar with a slightly larger stage room, where the sound desk and merch area take up a good third of the floor. It's always refreshing to see a Jonah gig, because while Kaz was off in the toilet I was just hanging out, glancing around, look over the sound desk, see Jonah, look at the bar... hoboywaitasecwhatsthatlookbackit'sfreakingJonahIlooklikeI'veseenaghostandhewinksatmeandIsmilenervouslybeforeturningbackaroundwowee-zoweeJonahwinkedatme...
Yeah, it's refreshing. Did I mention I think he's rad?
While we're hanging about for the first act to come on we pick up some merch, both of us getting Jonah's Sketchy EP #3 while I also pick up Sketchy EP #1 on vinyl. Jonah's right there still so we ask him if he'll sign our new purchases, and he kindly agrees. So now the sleeve of my record has 'Yay Vinyl!' across it in black marker! Jonah's merch stand (and his web store) is always a delight to visit because he asks people to pay what they can afford. Online his goods have a sliding scale of around $5-7, while I've seen him swap things with people in exchange for merch, or accept half the value. The guy just loves getting his music out to people.
And then we had our first troubadour of the evening, setting a pattern by being, essentially, a single man and a guitar. This was mistakes.in.animation, and his acoustic stylings involve plaintive accounts of queried relationships, but with a sense of humour at times too, such as when he weaves the melody of Heartbeats with lyrics lifted straight from Last Resort (for which he apologises, then says "LOL"). The melodies are simple but pleasant, and the crowd is caught by surprise when he leaps from the stage and finishes his final song by screaming words without a microphone. Shocking in it's suddenness, and wonderful too.
The Website
The MySpace
Not long after we get an unexpected surprise: Frank Turner, formerly of disbanded (post-?)hardcore-types Million Dead, is playing solo! I'd never really got into Million Dead, enjoying the occasional song but never dipping further. However, I'd heard good things about his solo stuff and so it proved as he belted out solid folk tunes like Thatcher fucked the kids and Romantic Fatigue, laced with clever, funny, sometimes political lyrics. Kaz and I were just blown away, and she snapped up a copy of his demo (I only wish I could have done so too). Beginning another trend he had Jonah join him for a duet, although unfortunately I can't recall which song it was. A cover, I'm pretty sure, and great to boot. His banter and ease on stage showed him for a veteran and it took little time before the crowd were swayed to his side, joining in on songs and cheering and laughing. He's still working his way around the country on endless low-level tours right now, so if he turns up in a town near you,
A site on the web
HisSpace
Ian Love was up next, former guitarist with Rival School, now maker of gorgeous acoustic folk since the birth of his son. He's toured before with Jonah, as electric back-up when The Volunteers was released a couple of years ago, but for his own set tonight it was just him with an iPod on hand to supply the drums. So unfurled a good, gentle 30 minutes of music which, while it didn't have the punch of Turner's set, nonetheless drew the crowd in. The highlight had to be Jonah joining him, along with the two guys on the merch stand for a bout of interpretive dance, while Jonah himself sang backing vocals on The Only Night. It was hilarious, and a good chunk of the crowd joined in with the movements come the second chorus.
Love Ian Love here
IanSpace
And so, at last, we come to the crown of the evening, the apex of our musical enjoyment. The one, the only, Jonah Matranga everybody. Gone are the labels and tags and baggage of 'ex-Far ex-New End Original ex-Gratitude ex-onelinedrawing (where he broke up with himself)', replaced with he, himself, playing whatever he wants from whenever he was. As such, this single man and his guitar reel off an endless procession of golden, melancholy, hopeful, cathartic songs both old and not-so-old, songs like Tides, Bitte Ein Kuss, and This is the Part. But then it's not really just Jonah. An artist like him earns devotion from his fans by dint of hard work, mutual respect, kindess and the emotional succour his songs provide, and so damn near every song is buoyed by a chorus of fierce, querelous, untrained voices. The atmosphere is one of enfolding affection, of good-natured shared emotion. No pushing, no self-consciousness, instead Jonah's own naked lyrical exhibition prompts us all to join in, sing as we would sing along with him when we're sat alone in our rooms. As the set continues he alternates comfortably between speech and song, talking about Bush not for a cheap cheer but so he can explain his opinion on the subject. It's evident he's eager not to be misinterpreted, eager to communicate ideas and hear them in return.
A little R2D2 toy stands in for his absent, able beat-supplier (an iPod serving the purpose instead), it's solo ringing out cheerfully as Smile summons it's name from the audience. Requests are accepted and so we are treated to a wondrous, multi-layered and surprisingly optimistic Better Than This, the original version contrasting sharply with the more-familiar (to me, anyway) version from New End Original's Thriller. This song caried me through some dark nights in my life, as I'm sure it did many others, and so catharsis reaches it's crest, the final lines sung by all as loud as we can and something inside seeming to lift as the last chord fades away.
Jonah is without a doubt my favourite solo artist, and has been a member of many of my favourite bands. His voice and music has been a companion to my life for about 5 years now, and as such he's really moved beyong a 'Top 5 Artists' situation into something one might call 'The Hall of Fame', but in reality is more like a dear friend. It's impossibly to judge objectively, so nestled amidst emotion as to be inextricable. This is emo as it should be, with real weight and meaning and support. Acknowledging the times we go through and the feelings we have, but supporting us and giving us release. It saves lives and hearts and souls, and that's not a joke.
The set closes peacefully, regretfully, with cheers and applause. We know he will return, and the beaming faces all around us mirror Jonah's own, speaking louder than the words I write as to how the evening was. As Kaz and I grab our bags and glance wistfully once more over the remaining merchandise, we notice Jonah still standing nearby, signing stuff and chatting happily with people. Seeing a break in the crowd we take the chance to congratulate him and Kaz asks for another hug. He pulls us both in, and for a long moment we three emo souls are locked in a welcoming, comforting group hug. As it ends we all smile and he mentions how cute we were, stood in the front before the stage. We smile, and blush, and bid farewell. Such is the level of comfort we have for this anti-rockstar, and he has for those who adore him.
As we walk back to the station I feel elated, and we chat incessantly about the little moments that made our night. Ultimately, it wasn't just Jonah who made this night the best gig I've ever been to, but him AND Ian AND Frank AND Del AND all those little moments, like the interpretive dance and the duets, AND the intimacy of the small venue. It was sublime.
There's a lot in here
JonahSpace
So a couple of weeks back I turned to Kaz and was like "So, you wanna go see Jonah Matranga melt some faces?" and she was all like "Awesomesauce!" and so we hitched up the wagon and moseyed on down to the Kingston Peel for some red-hot Rock Action.
The venue's tiny, basically a small bar with a slightly larger stage room, where the sound desk and merch area take up a good third of the floor. It's always refreshing to see a Jonah gig, because while Kaz was off in the toilet I was just hanging out, glancing around, look over the sound desk, see Jonah, look at the bar... hoboywaitasecwhatsthatlookbackit'sfreakingJonahIlooklikeI'veseenaghostandhewinksatmeandIsmilenervouslybeforeturningbackaroundwowee-zoweeJonahwinkedatme...
Yeah, it's refreshing. Did I mention I think he's rad?
While we're hanging about for the first act to come on we pick up some merch, both of us getting Jonah's Sketchy EP #3 while I also pick up Sketchy EP #1 on vinyl. Jonah's right there still so we ask him if he'll sign our new purchases, and he kindly agrees. So now the sleeve of my record has 'Yay Vinyl!' across it in black marker! Jonah's merch stand (and his web store) is always a delight to visit because he asks people to pay what they can afford. Online his goods have a sliding scale of around $5-7, while I've seen him swap things with people in exchange for merch, or accept half the value. The guy just loves getting his music out to people.
And then we had our first troubadour of the evening, setting a pattern by being, essentially, a single man and a guitar. This was mistakes.in.animation, and his acoustic stylings involve plaintive accounts of queried relationships, but with a sense of humour at times too, such as when he weaves the melody of Heartbeats with lyrics lifted straight from Last Resort (for which he apologises, then says "LOL"). The melodies are simple but pleasant, and the crowd is caught by surprise when he leaps from the stage and finishes his final song by screaming words without a microphone. Shocking in it's suddenness, and wonderful too.
The Website
The MySpace
Not long after we get an unexpected surprise: Frank Turner, formerly of disbanded (post-?)hardcore-types Million Dead, is playing solo! I'd never really got into Million Dead, enjoying the occasional song but never dipping further. However, I'd heard good things about his solo stuff and so it proved as he belted out solid folk tunes like Thatcher fucked the kids and Romantic Fatigue, laced with clever, funny, sometimes political lyrics. Kaz and I were just blown away, and she snapped up a copy of his demo (I only wish I could have done so too). Beginning another trend he had Jonah join him for a duet, although unfortunately I can't recall which song it was. A cover, I'm pretty sure, and great to boot. His banter and ease on stage showed him for a veteran and it took little time before the crowd were swayed to his side, joining in on songs and cheering and laughing. He's still working his way around the country on endless low-level tours right now, so if he turns up in a town near you,
A site on the web
HisSpace
Ian Love was up next, former guitarist with Rival School, now maker of gorgeous acoustic folk since the birth of his son. He's toured before with Jonah, as electric back-up when The Volunteers was released a couple of years ago, but for his own set tonight it was just him with an iPod on hand to supply the drums. So unfurled a good, gentle 30 minutes of music which, while it didn't have the punch of Turner's set, nonetheless drew the crowd in. The highlight had to be Jonah joining him, along with the two guys on the merch stand for a bout of interpretive dance, while Jonah himself sang backing vocals on The Only Night. It was hilarious, and a good chunk of the crowd joined in with the movements come the second chorus.
Love Ian Love here
IanSpace
And so, at last, we come to the crown of the evening, the apex of our musical enjoyment. The one, the only, Jonah Matranga everybody. Gone are the labels and tags and baggage of 'ex-Far ex-New End Original ex-Gratitude ex-onelinedrawing (where he broke up with himself)', replaced with he, himself, playing whatever he wants from whenever he was. As such, this single man and his guitar reel off an endless procession of golden, melancholy, hopeful, cathartic songs both old and not-so-old, songs like Tides, Bitte Ein Kuss, and This is the Part. But then it's not really just Jonah. An artist like him earns devotion from his fans by dint of hard work, mutual respect, kindess and the emotional succour his songs provide, and so damn near every song is buoyed by a chorus of fierce, querelous, untrained voices. The atmosphere is one of enfolding affection, of good-natured shared emotion. No pushing, no self-consciousness, instead Jonah's own naked lyrical exhibition prompts us all to join in, sing as we would sing along with him when we're sat alone in our rooms. As the set continues he alternates comfortably between speech and song, talking about Bush not for a cheap cheer but so he can explain his opinion on the subject. It's evident he's eager not to be misinterpreted, eager to communicate ideas and hear them in return.
A little R2D2 toy stands in for his absent, able beat-supplier (an iPod serving the purpose instead), it's solo ringing out cheerfully as Smile summons it's name from the audience. Requests are accepted and so we are treated to a wondrous, multi-layered and surprisingly optimistic Better Than This, the original version contrasting sharply with the more-familiar (to me, anyway) version from New End Original's Thriller. This song caried me through some dark nights in my life, as I'm sure it did many others, and so catharsis reaches it's crest, the final lines sung by all as loud as we can and something inside seeming to lift as the last chord fades away.
Jonah is without a doubt my favourite solo artist, and has been a member of many of my favourite bands. His voice and music has been a companion to my life for about 5 years now, and as such he's really moved beyong a 'Top 5 Artists' situation into something one might call 'The Hall of Fame', but in reality is more like a dear friend. It's impossibly to judge objectively, so nestled amidst emotion as to be inextricable. This is emo as it should be, with real weight and meaning and support. Acknowledging the times we go through and the feelings we have, but supporting us and giving us release. It saves lives and hearts and souls, and that's not a joke.
The set closes peacefully, regretfully, with cheers and applause. We know he will return, and the beaming faces all around us mirror Jonah's own, speaking louder than the words I write as to how the evening was. As Kaz and I grab our bags and glance wistfully once more over the remaining merchandise, we notice Jonah still standing nearby, signing stuff and chatting happily with people. Seeing a break in the crowd we take the chance to congratulate him and Kaz asks for another hug. He pulls us both in, and for a long moment we three emo souls are locked in a welcoming, comforting group hug. As it ends we all smile and he mentions how cute we were, stood in the front before the stage. We smile, and blush, and bid farewell. Such is the level of comfort we have for this anti-rockstar, and he has for those who adore him.
As we walk back to the station I feel elated, and we chat incessantly about the little moments that made our night. Ultimately, it wasn't just Jonah who made this night the best gig I've ever been to, but him AND Ian AND Frank AND Del AND all those little moments, like the interpretive dance and the duets, AND the intimacy of the small venue. It was sublime.
There's a lot in here
JonahSpace