English Teacher @ QMU, Glasgow, 18 Nov

Mercury Prize winners English Teacher deliver a knockout performance at Glasgow's QMU, and lets us in on a few secrets along the way

Live Review by Jack Faulds | 22 Nov 2024
  • English Teacher at QMU, Glasgow

Manchester dream-pop outfit TTSSFU warm up the QMU stage for our Lancashire lovelies with an impassioned setlist. Figurehead of the project Tasmin Stephens dons a heart-shaped axe and a twinkling crucifix pendant, a visual combo which echoes the divine vocal performance she benevolently bestows upon the growing crowd. She is encircled by a trio of musicians who opt for a look I call ‘Ed Sullivan-era Beatles go business casual’ (working title). Bassist Reuben Haycocks chews gum and smiles like a mischievous eight-year-old, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he plinks out a steady groove. Guitarist Paddy Murphy strikes his black Mustang between the nut and the headstock to send metallic banshee screeches into the atmosphere before returning to more human territory with his beautifully atonal countermelodies. Drummer Matt Deakin demonstrates impressive range, his cymbal crashes developing from delicate hotel-lounge clangs into full-throttle, 90s rock shotgun blasts at the drop of a hat.

Each of their songs seems to start off loose and shadowy, almost encouraging the audience to disassociate a little, and then descend into complete cacophony. This is especially true for standout track I Hope You Die, which Stephens introduces as “a song about wanting to murder someone”. She backs up this characterisation in spadeloads as she expels a series of blood-curdling screams that could only be produced by someone on the brink. Worrying, actually, but also valid as hell.

Wordsworth springs to mind as I look upon English Teacher’s choice of stage decor. A host of giant, golden daffodils loom over amps and wave from behind speakers. The rolling vales and hills that cover the band’s backdrop are akin to those on the cover of This Could Be Texas, framing a sculpted obelisk of the “musical meaty machine” that also graces the sleeve. A massive papier-mâche mask that bears a striking resemblance to Danny Trejo (from the music video for The World’s Biggest Paving Slab) looks upon this scene with a thin, toothy grin.

The band enter stage right to an ensemble of whoops and hollers and immediately launch into R&B. Don’t let drummer Douglas Frost’s surname deceive you – he is shit-hot from the word go, locking into that opening rhythm and following Nicholas Eden’s wistful punk bassline with unwavering precision. Lead singer Lily Fontaine is a wellspring of pure poetry, embodying an endless rogues gallery of characters, voices and perspectives. She repeats the titular phrase of 'I’m not crying, you're crying' with such fervent conviction that we're all simply forced to believe her. She moves to the piano for Broken Biscuits, tinkling away and reciting the lyrics with mind-boggling dexterity and vulnerability.

Fontaine lets us in on so many secrets throughout the evening – namely, when she prefaces Albatross with, “When I was 18 I jumped out of my bedroom window and went to uni… and this song happened.” Sharp rim clicks from Frost aid the hypnotic guitar from Lewis Whiting in emulating the passage of time, and you can immediately picture this as the frantic soundtrack to Fontaine’s commute to university. “There’s aliens,” she says later on in the set, letting us in on another secret. “They’re real… they might be here.” She stares up at the ceiling of the QMU in abject terror, as if she’s just come face-to-face with an off-screen monster that won’t be revealed to us until the next act.

The point I’m trying to get to with all of this is that Fontaine is a truly remarkable and generous storyteller that simultaneously contains and reveals multitudes about both herself and humankind. You Blister My Paint is her finest performance of the night, giving herself over to the audience with unbelievable, soaring and heart-wrenching vocals.

http://englishteacherband.com