An Honest Performance - Review: Stanley Brinks

The atmosphere was expectant and eager as people began to gather at the San Gaetanu Band Club, Hamrun. The music hall of the band club was lit red with (leftover?) Christmas lights and decorations, including festa streamers. I wonder if anybody recalled the brothels of Amsterdam and Paris. However, the warm light and body heat of the several hundred in the audience created a comforting atmosphere which set the tone for opening band Stalko to take the stage.

Stalko were, as usual, bloody good. Their album launch last November was an absolute success; the band now performs with confidence that they have proved themselves to the Maltese music scene. The lads are just as good without an 11-piece orchestra behind them, teasing their audience in the same bashful manner. The intimacy of the venue, the really tiny stage and curious red light allowed them to perform as they would in their living rooms. The result: a strong, confident, intimate version of Stalko that suits their sound and tone very well.

Stalko was followed by young French singer Freschard, who sometimes accompanies Stanley Brinks in his performances. She started singing to an almost empty hall, and post-opening song enquired, rather bewildered, “Can you hear me?” Unfortunately many had left the hall in search of alcohol and an outdoor smoking area and so missed Freschard’s first couple of songs. However the crowd did return. Freschard worked well as the intermediary between Stalko’s powerful moodiness and Stanley Brinks’ lyrical mastery. Her music was rather repetitive, layering smooth French-accented vocals over guitar chords (played by Brinks). Sometimes the guitar took over and put the vocals to shame. However, Freschard reclaimed the audience with her final song “Johnny Boy” that moulded her pretty lyrics into a cute nursery-rhyme. Part spoken, part sung, this song with a story was more upbeat anti-folk that suited Mademoiselle Freschard.

Stanley Brinks is a little hard to categorise – it is too easy to call his music anti-folk. To call him a singer-songwriter is accurate but far too general. I think SB is a crooner. He is comfortable on stage alone with his sexy red guitar, but welcomes members of the audience to join him. (However, despite the best efforts of one man and three girls, SB sounds far better when he sings alone.) From the first song, Brinks dives in with complex symbolic lyrics, at times recalling the sadness of Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel in his more melancholy ballads. The highlight of the gig was the performance of ‘Jean-Marie Camilleri’, a Beatles-esque pop song about a Maltese girl on the ferry to Valletta, which turned the audience into giggling patriots.

The honesty of Brinks’ lyrics suggests that they might be autobiographical, however the extent of any embellishment is uncertain. His words are witty, charming, and romantic; especially in songs like the hairdresser song and ‘Heavy Metal’ where the earnest vocals force the listener to search for truth.

Stanley Brinks has a ‘Malta connection’, having lived on our island a year ago and become enchanted. The Maltese influence is strong in his latest album, named ‘Hafna Xita’ (this translates to ‘a lot of rain’ in Maltese). The story of this curious French/Swedish folk singer is rather unusual. Stanley Brinks is one of many stage names of performer Andre Herman Dune, formerly of band Herman Dune. A man who enjoys going with the flow of things, Dune adopted his current stage name when he was mistaken for somebody else by the name of Stanley Brinks, and in order not to disappoint, accepted this new identity and built upon it. Brinks is something of a nomad, having traveled and lived around the world. For the moment, he is calling our little island home.

When - 19th January 2013

Where - San Gaetanu Band Club, Hamrun

Who - Stanley Brinks, Freschard, Stalko

Price - 10e

Review: Stalko Grandiloquence album launch

At 8:30PM the line outside the Orpheum stretches around the block; people are joining others in the queue but the atmosphere is friendly. It's a who's who of the indie scene, and a lot of musicians from other bands, even those who rarely attend local gigs, have turned up to support Stalko.

The glorious Orpheum Theatre in Gzira is very softly lit, more shadows than light. Votive candles sit on crates covered in Stalko tablecloths, casting a soft pink glow. The theatre itself was once a cinema in the heyday of film, but now its pretty floor tiles and glorious ceiling fresco are faded and shabby. With this dilapidated glory as a setting, Stalko set the tone for the evening and their album Grandiloquence. The orchestral style that Stalko is known for finds an adequate setting at the Orpheum.

A little later than they had planned, Stalko emerge from behind the curtain on stage and reveal the reason behind their tardiness: a game of tombola at the hall lasted longer than scheduled, throwing the lads off schedule. Tim Ellis is the Jack-of-all-trades, playing the harmonica, melodica, accordion, keyboard and adding vocals. Mike Stivala performs vocals and guitar, and Chris Cini plays the violin.

As ‘Flotsam’ begins, every musician on stage engages and this produces a powerful, passionate sound, climaxing in a crescendo of violins. The band's gentle intensity blossoms with an 11-piece orchestra behind them; including a full drum set, clarinet, trumpet, trio of strings, and guitars. The support of these talented musicians gives an added depth to the Stalko sound, indicative of the regal tone they have set for this album. However, it is softer songs like 'Spires' where Stalko excel with their striking chords. At times the lads are reminiscent of Owen Pallett, the Arcade Fire and even Beirut.

Both Tim and Mike are so charming in their song introductions, it seems to be a result of sharing the labour of love that is the album Grandiloquence. After 5 years in the making, it deserves this splendid and decadent launch.

A stand-out track from the performance was 'Forever and Ever (and Ever)', a song written by Ellis. The ghostly whining violins complement Ellis' melodica and falsetto vocals, which always remind me of Wild Beasts, before fading out to a tango of violin and piano. Mike Stivala’s performance on the ukulele in ‘Simone’ is reminiscent of Owen Pallett’s chirpy violin style, in a carnivalesque song that could easily be released as a single. Most of the orchestra take a break for ‘il-Mara ta’ fuq il-Bejt’, an acoustic track – and the only song in Maltese. In intense moments, the song is evocative of ghana (a traditional Maltese style of singing); but Ellis’ vocals modernise this tale of the Maltese washerwoman. In the context of the whole album, this song presents the image of a stout Maltese washerwoman in an elegy for lost youth; an image that clashes with the rest of the songs. Although it is a successful nod to tradition, it is rather out of place in the album.


The long instrumental introduction implies the wholesomeness and simplicity of the vintage-sounding song ‘Glimmer, Shine’. This is followed by ‘In a Hurry’, a song Stalko fans are very familiar with. This well-established favourite marks the peak of this grand performance, with Stivala's vocals comparable to Antony without the Johnsons. Because Stalko usually perform without percussion, the accompanying mini-orchestra’s booming drums and trumpet tend to produce a sound not unlike a sad war march, as in ‘Armstrong’. The lads finish on the song ‘Two’, another vintage lament. The violin and piano on this song could easily make it too melancholy, but this is balanced by the bouncy guitar, bass and drums.

The orchestral style of their performance suits Stalko very well, elevating their folk sound to a more regal variety of folk. Ellis, Stivala and Cini should certainly be proud of their magnificent album, brought to the public in the most glorious setting.

Photos from the Stalko Facebook page - link here