We head to one of our favourite venues; Kitchen Garden Cafe, Birmingham; to see one of our favourites artists – Frankie Archer.

“They said Birmingham was in the north, but we’ve been in the car all day!”

folk’n’beats ahoy

Frankie Archer is having quite the year, since appearing on Jools Holland’s Later a little over 12 months ago, her exhilarating brand of folk’n’beats making new friend upon new friend. An engaging and frequent presence on social media, it seems almost a shock that this was the first time I have actually caught her live. It isn’t even her first visit to this bijou jewel in the Birmingham live scene.

The recorded music is known; sure, she is liked here at ATB, and her first release, last year’s EP, Never So Red, was much enjoyed. She has just released a second, Pressure And Persuasion, with this tour being built around that, and we liked that too. But how does all that studio chicanery cut it when she is up there on stage, alone and without support?

ELECTRONIC GADGETRY

Silly question, really, when you see her bank of pedals, and her dais, chock full of electronic gadgetry. Indeed, such is her grasp of FX that the name Jim Moray pops effortlessly into mind, his first works being similarly folktronic. So it should come as no real surprise that, once the Staffordshire lad became aware of the Geordie lass, so came the studio confluence, with Moray responsible for co-production across each her shiny discs. Having said, I rather think the pupil may now have overtaken her, if not tutor, certainly mentor.

The Kitchen Garden Cafe is becoming an ATB favourite, such the discerning roster of artists queuing up to play here, a true credit to the team behind it. And, what it might lack in size, it more than makes up in the intimate atmosphere it provides. So much so that it is tempting to deny any need for larger spaces, and bemoan it when players move upward and onward.

OXFORD CITY

Bang on 8, Archer floated downstairs into the room. And floating is what she does. OK, in full sight, she had earlier checked her machines, but that is all part the KGC delight. A flickering repetitive pulse of a beat: “you’ll know what that is“, she said, and we were off, straight into Oxford City. She presents an enticing mix of gauche and gamine whilst she sings, a knowing mix that beguiles, inhabiting her songs with her arms, weaving sinuously, a mix between Victorian beggar girl and Kate Bush. Her violin hanging next to her, and it feels more violin than fiddle, it gets picked up and discarded as she needs, adding to the orchestral build of voices, electronica and multi-tracked strings. The crowd were stolen in an instant, agog at her command of the decks, boards and, indeed, the room.

Following with Lucy Wan, rapt attention was split between working out quite how she managed to be a choir of many octaves, simultaneously picking a rolling pizzicato on that violin, and just the sheer joy of the listen. She has a gentle, soft tone to her voice, her accent all part the charm, a more delicate instrument, say, than of The Unthanks, but no less effective. Following this came her request for “help”, that folkie staple that means one to join in with, sending frissons of fear into many a heart, mine anyway. But it was just hum that was wanted, a hum she duly recorded, leaving us then to hear ourselves transformed into an elongating drone, which she manipulated both by note and volume, all the whilst continuing to sing. It’s clever stuff.

A MOVING TABLEAU

Giving a little background to her backstory, she then presented a moving tableau, culled from her time as a music therapy practioner. To the taped voice of Bob, a then 96 year old ex miner, and mining safety officer, recounting some of his own history, down the pit from a teenager, she then improvised and extemporised a backing, using her equipment to balance the gall of his describings, explosions and all. Heady stuff, this demands a full project, seemingly a future possibility.

There then came a bit more experimental, another gizmo hauled out. This was, if I understood correctly, a semi-conductor that picks up the sounds of human contact. Volunteers were gathered to, one each, lay a hand on either end. This produced some bleep and boostery that wouldn’t disgrace the early Hawkwind ring modulator mechanics. With The Snow That Melts The Soonest her instrumental start point for free folk violin fretwork, as the circle of hands expanded, so too did the accompanying “music”.

THE FULL TECHNO EXPERIENCE

Shifting back to songs, she took the opportunity to show off her new kit, a Novation analog synthesizer, demonstrating some of the noises she could now supply, both those she was seeking and others that came by surprise. It all looked fun and felt very funky. Young Edwin was then followed by two further from her debut, Peacock Followed The Hen and Bonny Fisher Lads. (Nothing, yet, from the new one, that was, she said, being kept for the second half). Fisher Lads got the full techno house experience, if a little more gentle, more Future Sound of London than Chemical Brothers, and it made for a fab end to a first set.

The allotted 20 minute break stretched somewhat by her gift for the gab, apologies for that greeted her track by track presentation of the new EP. I’m sure nobody was remotely concerned, least of those grabbing words with her, she happy to take as much time as was wanted. Barbara Allen was up first; yes, that one, as well worn a song as one might imagine, but here given a full fresh arrangement, together with a new chorus, of her own, to balance the somewhat over forgiving that folk gives to randy rustics and seamen, allowed to pursue their pecadilloes unashamed, and able to deem any who deny them cruel.

LOVELY JOAN

Lovely Joan was lovely, a rare relative lyrical respite for the usually beleaguered womenfolk who inhabit her songs, culled all from the tradition. (As in, Joan escaped her predator unharmed… ). This meant she could really ramp up the expectation for the next song, Fair Mabel Of Wallington Hall, seemingly one of the grisliest in the canon. Described, apparently, elsewhere as gynaecological mayhem, I wondered quite what to expect, remaining unfortunately none the wiser, as, frustratingly, this was an instance where the balance of sounds, between organic and electronic, clashed rather than connected, leaving poor Mabel in a muddy morass. There were occasions earlier where her voice became nearly lost in the surround sound, but never to this degree.

It seemed restored, however, for the final damsel, in distress or danger, Elsie, this time, in Elsie Marley. Despite the electronics remaining dialled up high, this remained in balance throughout. This left time only, with encores neither offered nor given, for a brief work in progress, a skittering instrumental dancefloor banger, based around Jack O’Lanterns. With that skip in my step, and those of the satisfied audience, I can safely say that, however good she sounds on record, and she does, live, as is usually the case, adds several additional layers, taking it all, and she, to a greater level.

Here’s Barbara Allen, from that new EP, Pressure And Persuasion. (And that title, within the above context of Barbara, Joan, Mabel and Elsie, fully explains and underlines the stance Archer is unafraid to focus on and point out).

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