H. Hawkline live review: undoubted brilliance lifted by a touch of comic panache
London Bridge is a strange area at the best of times. Sparsely inhabited, with the oppressive high-rises juxtaposing the last vestiges of Victorian architecture, it can be a thought-provoking manifestation of humanity’s trajectory. Although it is technically in the centre of a sprawling metropolis, there is little on offer, despite a myriad of establishments. Pulled into the area on a swarthy eve before the carnage of a Friday St. Patrick’s Day, there was a universal sense that this was very much the calm before the storm. I met my partner and sister in the only fine watering hole in the area, the Irish tavern Mc and Sons – of which I was once in the employ – and had a couple of Guinness. More than enough rollies later, it was time to move on. We had made the strike-addled journey to see H. Hawkline at Omeara.
The three of us were an interesting party last night. My sister had never heard of H. Hawkline but was nonetheless there for the ride, and my partner had heard of him but never listened to the music. In good faith, I guaranteed that at least one of them would enjoy the surreal sounds of the Welsh musician; after all, his new album, Milk For Flowers, which arrived on March 10th, is excellent.
Duly, there was a feeling that it was something of a jump into the unknown, heightened by the fact that none of us had ever been to Omeara. For two of us – the pair who happen to be related – this seemed quite strange, as one is currently still employed by the Irish pub, and passes by the venue, just off Union Street, numerous times a week, as I did for the best part of two years. A well-thought-of venue in the city, this added more flavour to the night than it probably would have if it were at one of the usual academies, which unfailingly offer an expensive and dictated concert experience.
An enticing venue, with fake shrubbery decking the front and a roof garden peeking out above; one proper glance at it implies that it’s got more on offer than probably most in the vicinity. After exiting the strange corridor-cum-office that takes you in, a relaxed energy hit me, with Omeara offering leave from the rainy nothingness outside, and the balanced Havana-inspired aesthetic enabling this.
The lights were lit well, not too dim and not too dark, helping to create a warm atmosphere, the bar was never too busy, and the roof garden was one of the better ones I’ve been to. It closely backs onto a large old church, with its gothic substance augmented by the cold still of the rain. I don’t know why I was surprised at what the multidimensional venue had to offer; it is the brainchild of Mumford and Sons’ Ben Lovett, with a lot of personal and economic capital put into it.
This sleek aesthetic is all well and good, but the best exhibit is the main room. It’s a vaudevillian chamber, with standing levels not dissimilar from those at Brixton Academy, albeit much a smaller space, with a capacity of 320. Complete with a concave roof to get the natural reverb bouncing and the same for the ambience of a crowd; the intimate yet well-spaced room was perfect for the sounds of H. Hawkline.
Coming onto the stage, I realised that Hawkline might well be the tallest man in the room, commanding the attention of everyone as he protruded from the diminutive stage. Decked in an array of heady lighting, including Michael Mann-like blues and greens, this sight connected with the music’s surreal and often heady spirit, creating a sort of trance, with the various shapes of the lights calmly gliding around the room.
After seeing a recent video online where he played with only a tape machine, I expected the same, but the show was with a full band. Almost instantly, he told the crowd that he had played old and new cuts for previous stops on the tour, to what was a mixed reaction. It was easier, therefore, for everyone, for him to play Milk For Flowers in its entirety, with a “couple of exceptions”. After being in the venue for around 45 minutes, it seemed that the crowd contained numerous friends of Hawkline, so this admission was met with a warm cheer of approval.
It’s not very often that an artist sounds equally impressive live when compared to recordings, but it was the case here. Naturally, there were differences, with Hawkline’s voice rawer and more resounding than his albums might have you believe, with the higher-pitched moments executed adroitly. The band were tight, and the mix was near-on perfect. The guitars, bass, drums, saxophone, keys, and others all complimented each other and never outmuscled one another.
New cuts, such as ‘Milk For Flowers’, ‘Suppression Street’ and ‘Empty Room’, were performed with automation, as is the case when a band has been on the road for a while. The penultimate track he played, ‘Engineers’, went down a treat, a reminder of the overlooked brilliance of this off-kilter cut. The rhythm is impossible to ignore.
Two things stood out during Hawkline’s performance: the first was his aptitude as a guitarist. Performing on his customary off-cream Fender Strat, his busy licks, both plinky and direct, asserted themselves. Well-written and often technical, playing these and singing is a victory in itself. Obvious parallels emerged between him and players like the late Tom Verlaine. See ‘Engineers’ for evidence.
The second stand out was the showmanship. I don’t say this in a way that conjures up images of colourful performers such as Freddie Mercury or Roger Daltrey, but quite the opposite. The deadpan comedy added another unexpected dimension. In a demonstration of the humour that imbues all his work, there was a moment about halfway through where he discussed the point in a show where the silence becomes awkward, and everyone in the room, from the bar staff to the musician, feels its pang. Sat down at this point, he quietly said he’d try it out. Silence. The initial chuckles gave way to unilateral unease before finally dissipating with an outcry of laughter. Genius. I’d never seen anything like it.
That’s it with H. Hawkline. From the music to the stagecraft, it’s a multifarious offering, immersing the willing. With much to be taken from his work, even in the live setting, the show at Omeara was a stellar presentation of why he has been so lauded by those in the know for a decade. Whilst he was ideal for the venue’s environment, there’s a capacity there for much larger ones, as the show is as complete as you are likely to see from a guitar-oriented act.
