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It’s nice living in a bubble. The only external intrusions
being the occasional muffled thud around the edges of
your existence. A reverberating warmth protecting you
like foam does a delicate package. Inspired by your
own perspective, as you choose it. This is the world
of Mojave 3, or a glimpse of it at least. And
tonight, at their first London gig for 3 years, in support
the imminent release of their excellent fourth album
‘Spoon & Rafter’, it feels more like a glimpse
than a performance. Because performance is too premeditated
a word for what unfurls so very naturally before us.
And it is only an hour and a half of their time. It
feels a part of something bigger and altogether more
consuming.
Their alt-country bubble floats a long way from home,
all on its own. It’s hard to imagine London or Cornwall
(the band’s bases) offering up the type of musical sourcing
behind their seeping beauty. It’s a chosen inspiration,
but one which they’re incredibly adept at interpreting.
And the drummer’s beard and yellow trailer-park cap
tell you all you need to know about where their bubble’s
parked up. It’s not like anything’s hurried here, they’re
no Coral when it comes to knocking out material, but
when they choose to they go find their contemporaries
and saunter circles around them. When they began in
the mid-90s it was Mazzy Star they sidled up to the
closest. These days it’s more like Mercury Rev and Grandaddy,
but without the studied attention to detail that personifies
the latter in particular.
Neil Halstead’s voice is rough like a pair of weathered
jeans, and the likes of recent epic digital single ‘Bluebird
of Happiness’ just fall out of him like he’s been hypnotised
and the door to his dreams propped open. Rachel Goswell’s
sweet vocals are the perfect grounding foil to his,
like Evan and Juliana. The predominant sadness in songs
such as ‘Bringin’ Me Home’ bears little relation to
an existing depression and are more a refection of bad
times passed, registered through the audience’s hearty
and lively appreciation. There’s a sense of involvement
and discourse with these truthful sounding laments that
transcends anything a ‘performance band’ are capable
of.
They’re so relaxed in their gentle smoky haze that he
clean forgets the words to one of his very best songs,
‘In Love With A View’ from 2000’s ‘Excuses For Travellers’.
“Canadian winters…” prompts Rachel happily with a touch
of disbelief before he retakes the lead with an loose
smile. Then it just takes off, carried on safely by
its own momentum, growing incrementally and expanding
through their amazing slight of touch, all with such
breezy control. It’s like everything’s just been handed
to them, like they’re just the messengers. But what
messengers, with such silky soft, harmonically complimentary
voices, weaved in delicately with the beautiful passing
instrumentation. And the bubble doesn’t pop as it could,
it fades slowly as it carries you home.
James Berry for Crud Magazine 2003©
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