Robert Ensor

As if the Charlotte weren't small enough already, this show from soon-to-no-longer-be-Leicester-based band Her Name is Calla - unofficially launching their new mini-album - is upstairs in a room no larger than a fair-sized living room. And that's before the bands have set up. An opening set from "local heroes" Minaars whets the appetite - or it would if they weren't peddling rather unimaginative Foals-influenced indie (with now-seemingly-obligatory
electronic twiddly bits). Admittedly they are popular with the crowd, although the same can be said of Tired Irie the times I've seen them in Leicester, but their set is mercifully short.

Glissando, hailing from Leeds, and touring before the release of their debut full-length album next month, are most certainly a welcome change. Even with some lovely sub-bass rumbling up from a Battle of the Bands competition downstairs (yes, that's sarcasm), the ethereal quality of the bowed guitar, keyboard and vocals hit a note deep within the people present. 'Haunting' is an adjective used too frequently to describe some music, but what Glissando produce genuinely should be described as such. The tiny venue even adds to the effect, allowing an intimacy between the duo and each member of the crowd. I can imagine that there may be no better experience in music than to listen to this while sprawled in a field at sunset during a small festival.

Her Name is Calla, with their second release for Gizeh Records just around the corner, take to the 'stage' With Alfred Hitchcock's 'The Birds' projected onto the screen behind them. Taking post-rock as their starting point, and adding cello, trumpet, trombone and harmonica as and when the mood strikes, Calla have been a fixture around Leicester for a while. This, probably their last Leicester show before upping sticks to Leeds, is a rousing send-off. Starting off reasonably softly, the whole set has a feeling of building up to something - perhaps the reason for incorporating a film by the 'master of suspense'.

There are moments that briefly puncture this mood - much like the film - yet the release at the end, with each band member furiously playing, is just as cathartic for the audience as for the band.The requests from them during playing for the film to be skipped forward to some action had fortunately fallen on deaf ears, with the closing moments of the gig being a possibly serendipitous but certainly spectacular unifying of the music and a scene from the film of birds flooding into a living room through the chimney.

Comment on this article