Y'all is Fantasy Island
The Changing Rooms, Stirling. Friday Dec 1st 2006
Y’all is Fantasy Island’s latest enigmatic visit to Stirling finds us tastefully lit and slightly confused within the fully whitewashed walls of “The Changing Room”, an art space situated above the Crawford shopping arcade in the city centre. It’s certainly an unconventional choice of venue. The occasion is the opening of a new exhibition at the gallery featuring the work of a number of artists based in and around the local area.
Curiosity piqued by this unusual crossing of artistic paths, the show presented an uncharacteristically convenient opportunity to chart the course of this ever-evolving musical ensemble.
Y’all is Fantasy Island has been shifting shape for three years now since its arrival as a moody gust of foreboding from amidst Falkirk’s less than sunny suburbs. Initially the music was largely centred round singer and lead songwriter Adam Stafford’s intimate husky sermons, occasionally giving way to passages of Constellation-esque experimentalism. Yet over the course of their time together, these more subdued sets have acquired the protruding edges of skewed indie, in the vein of such underground luminaries as Sebadoh and Papa M.
Tonight, however, it appears they have further metamorphosed into a fully electric creature, still thickly layering atmospherics, only this time from a heavier base of operations. Indeed this evening’s set closes with a sustained wall of shrill feedback looped through the heavily stomped and thoroughly tweaked circuitry of Stafford’s delay and distortion pedals. It’s a loud and occasionally abrasive performance, but carefully laced with melody and clever instrumentation. The bleached and pleasant surroundings ultimately seem ill-suited to containing such volatile works of art.
Their debut album, the well-received “In Faceless Towns Forever”, was an excellent document of Y’all is Fantasy Island’s quieter upbringing. The highlights of tonight’s set, such as the infectious “With Handclaps”, seem to denote a more raucous adolescence and, if captured properly, will no-doubt make for an equally rewarding listen.
> Chris Cusack
Y’all is Fantasy Island’s latest enigmatic visit to Stirling finds us tastefully lit and slightly confused within the fully whitewashed walls of “The Changing Room”, an art space situated above the Crawford shopping arcade in the city centre. It’s certainly an unconventional choice of venue. The occasion is the opening of a new exhibition at the gallery featuring the work of a number of artists based in and around the local area.
Curiosity piqued by this unusual crossing of artistic paths, the show presented an uncharacteristically convenient opportunity to chart the course of this ever-evolving musical ensemble.
Y’all is Fantasy Island has been shifting shape for three years now since its arrival as a moody gust of foreboding from amidst Falkirk’s less than sunny suburbs. Initially the music was largely centred round singer and lead songwriter Adam Stafford’s intimate husky sermons, occasionally giving way to passages of Constellation-esque experimentalism. Yet over the course of their time together, these more subdued sets have acquired the protruding edges of skewed indie, in the vein of such underground luminaries as Sebadoh and Papa M.
Tonight, however, it appears they have further metamorphosed into a fully electric creature, still thickly layering atmospherics, only this time from a heavier base of operations. Indeed this evening’s set closes with a sustained wall of shrill feedback looped through the heavily stomped and thoroughly tweaked circuitry of Stafford’s delay and distortion pedals. It’s a loud and occasionally abrasive performance, but carefully laced with melody and clever instrumentation. The bleached and pleasant surroundings ultimately seem ill-suited to containing such volatile works of art.
Their debut album, the well-received “In Faceless Towns Forever”, was an excellent document of Y’all is Fantasy Island’s quieter upbringing. The highlights of tonight’s set, such as the infectious “With Handclaps”, seem to denote a more raucous adolescence and, if captured properly, will no-doubt make for an equally rewarding listen.
> Chris Cusack
