Having returned to York only 3 days ago and having resisted the temptation of revelling in borrowed freshers fun, Wednesday night’s Fibbers was an appealing prospect. An appealing prospect not only as a means of renewing my commitment to York’s nightlife, but because Tankus the Henge were playing. Considering my live experience of the “six sharped dressed and bedraggled gentlemen” is limited to a short Thursday set at one of Bestival 2011’s back and beyond stages, my recollection and fondness for the band is disproportionately large.
On September 6th 2 years ago, as a beyond foreboding sheet of Isle of Wight drizzle came down upon us few sitting between the gravy and chips stall and The Bandstand, Tankus the Henge spun out a unique sound. Borrowing from and owning genres as far a field as blues, disco and reggae, the wired group proved themselves to be worth far more than the novelty usually gifted to post-grad, art-house collectives. Howling saxophone solos across a jolting bed of accordion ragtime, the potentially cockney throw-backs whipped an ailing audience into a Bestival 2011 promotional video worthy mess.
Before it fell to Tankus to continue their riotous live form, a Fibbers filled mostly with York St. John music students on a course trip was treated to The New York Brass Band. Consisting of 2 trumpets, 2 trombones, 1 saxophone, 1 sousaphone and a drum kit, the Yorkshire bred septet more than justified their position as York’s funk driven counterpart to the student clubbing scene. Beyond the sheer power 7 ruddy faced Yorkshire men can muster when equipped appropriately, the most impressive part of the set was it’s meticulously formed structure. Opening with a couple of up beat yet niche brass staples, the midway drift towards impeccable covers of Daft Punk and Bruno Mars coincided perfectly with the bands increased enthusiasm and bouncing skank. Their and the crowd’s undeniably high point came when the less weighed down members jumped into the crowd and powered through an almost improved version of Sweet Dreams.
The crowd limber and more than warmed up between Fibber’s dripping walls, Tankus the Henge took to the stage. Bursting straight into a piano driven fury of a song, the sweaty masses reemerged from cigarette break hazes and fell swiftly back into the night’s 120 BPM minimum requirement.
Although a strong unit, the band is undeniably led, at least in terms of stage presence, by Jaz Delorean. Dressed to the nines in a charity shop interpretation of Dick Van Dyke, the lead singer, pianist and squeeze boxist commands attention. Between flinging the lid of his piano back to release bursts of dry ice and Cossack dancing, Delorean hammered out stripped down and jazzed up power chords with no small amount of frantic energy. Alongside him the band’s impressively tall saxophonist breezed through smooth solos above the rhythmic ebb of bassist, guitarist and drummer.
The band’s strongest moments on stage echoed the strongest moments on their records, the audience once more dropping inhibitions as ‘Life Is a Grimm Tale Sometimes’ coxed them into screams. Towards the end of the set ‘Recurring Dream’ and ‘Last Days Are Coming’ offered a couple of catchy refrains.
Such moments aside, the set was somewhat of a let down. For one, the band’s Dickensian charm seemed at points a little forced; Delorean’s glib asides seeming less than in the moment witticisms and more a recycled stage craft. More importantly, the rambunctious enthusiasm that fuels the band saw cohesion and precision put to one side and caused a slight droning undercurrent.
In all, a good gig well played by two unashamedly cool bands. Perhaps the bunkerous confines of Fibbers just wasn’t quite the setting for an otherwise sterling blues/disco/reggae/ragtime outfit.