Human Resources… an unusual band from London.
As long as there’s life, there’s hope, and as long as there’s live music, there will be hope for music. Then, as long as I can step out of my house and have four or five options for my evening, there will be a city called London. A few weeks ago, it was Thursday, I think; I didn’t feel like staying at home, pretending to be busy. I open the newspaper in the Events section (social media, in the third millennium), and I am overwhelmed by the predictable avalanche of choices. So, I go by instinct, by venue. The beauty of knowing that in some bar you know they always play quality music, that you’ll never find a cover band, and the entry ticket will always be trivial — this is also London. Like in the 1960s in Los Angeles, there was Whisky a Go Go, or CBGB in New York in the 1970s. For instance, right now I have Jaguar Shoes in Shoreditch. Some people call it Dream Bags, others Jaguar Shoes. The full name is Dream Bags Jaguar Shoes, and I have a feeling that it was once a clothing store (actually, it’s a twenty-year-old artistic collective simply named after an old sign on the main venue). In any case, now it’s a spacious bar full of tables, beers, cocktails, with the subtle certainty that on Trip Advisor, some weekend tourists wouldn’t have a clue how to feel local. Clumsy stairs lead to a basement seemingly recently cleared out to hide goods meant to stay far from the light of day. I observe, or more accurately, I bring your attention to a stack of old TV screens, microphones, and cables, and a drum kit in the corner. Now, I’m ready to listen live to this band known as Human Resources. They actually open for a band whose name I can’t even remember now, and that’s fine for everyone. I wanted to talk to the Human Resources first; I noticed that they were having a bite with their friends, upstairs. The singer is hastily devouring what I think is a plate of nachos, and he seems quite focused on the act (as in everything he does), while the guitarist immediately recognizes me from our brief afternoon online messages and promises a chat after the gig.
Let’s get to the point… they are five of them (Harry Handford on vocals, Matt Baker on guitar, Leo Dutton on bass, Colin Olive on drums, Juan Brint-Gutiérrez on sax), and they do a lot of stuff. My expectations don’t falter at the first song but rather grow and are fuelled with new material every passing minute. The first precious characteristic I notice is Leo’s unstoppable work on the bass: incessant and creative in every passage. When I congratulate him after the show, he hugs me as if I had just awarded him a Grammy. How to describe Human Resources? Without going straight to Frank Zappa, I prefer to choose Captain Beefheart. Sometimes I think of Vampire Weekend and I heavily smell Primus, from the most recent history of music. The Decemberists too, but I almost wonder why. Strawberry Alarm Clock, thrown out of bed at seven in the morning. Even Fugazi, but the noise produced by Human Resources is never true noise; the notes always seem to be chosen, even when deliberately unusual. And then, they have so much beautiful melody, the singability of the songs, the damn composition that I have always advocated. But also a lot of rhythm, many thorns and beats, harmony wouldn’t work without snares and bass and drums, we would end up with small guitars for a popular sit-in, but not here, here they play to impress, not to preach to churchgoers. Always attentive, nothing is left to chance, even in their stage movements. Their set lasts just over half an hour, and about halfway through their performance, when Harry puts on a Pluto hat, I think that they may not be aware of how good they are. A strange observation, I realise, but I’m quite sure of it. Among their countless rhythm changes and counterparts within the same song, I feel at home. A truly peculiar sensation: I knew what was about to happen at any moment, even without having listened to them before, and I mean this in the best possible way. When I tell this to them later, they are a bit puzzled, but then I explain my point, that what I predicted to come was always the best thing that could happen. Weird compliments can be risky! Back on track, and they use both a Jaguar and a Telecaster, coincidentally. They give nothing away; Harry’s strong voice and expressive energy are truly enjoyable. In the end, they make sure to leave a lasting impression in your brain, with one tune that seems like a reissue of Willie the Pimp’s riff and the other… the unexpected ballad, their Hey Jude. End of the show, I extend my congratulations, we make plans for a couple of pints on another day as I had to remind myself that it wasn’t the weekend yet and had probably four. I find out that they also live in South of the river, between Peckham and Nunhead. I see South London strikes again. They suggest meeting at the Skehans. Apparently, London boasts over three thousand pubs, but the joy lies in selecting one where both parties are confident it will go smoothly. I mean… at the Skehans (where countless bands have played and had a great time), on a post of the bar, up there, there’s a picture of the Captain. So Matt, Colin, and Harry show up. We have a few beers; I take some notes, my pen and my small notebook are just for intimidation. Sometimes, I am surprised by these three men’s naivety, even in their way of composing: I expected them to use sheet music and staves, but they go completely by heart! I try to convince them that writing music down makes things easier, especially in the long run. Did I succeed? Matt promises me he’ll think about it, essentially agreeing with me as you would with your old stubborn grandpa.
We talk about the concept of Human Resources and why they chose that name for the band. Matt explains to me that it was just a matter of aesthetics, that their songs don’t refer much to the average man’s work life, a life they also know well during the day. Yet on stage they easily dress in a tie and white shirt, and their “Unverifiable Religious Experience Blues” videoclip confirms the setting (a hilarious video, by the way, in line with their theatricality). They are genuine; I have this beautiful and fresh feeling talking to them. The reason why they play such different yet appealing music? Playing that stuff is normal for them, even though I point out how their style and genre are niche and not easily accessible to everyone. I think they just care that I personally like their material, as nothing else matters, apart from their next attentive listener; they don’t want to predict who and where. They invite me to a party at their house for the next week, ensuring also we will meet at their next concert. They also tell me that, due to a strange coincidences everytime, none of the band members ever go to parties at the singer’s house. This information, amusing and substancially out of place, seems like a standard break in their songs, and it fits in perfectly with the evening I spent with them. Before going to the pub, I gave their lyrics a serious read (written by Harry, while the music is usually Matt’s domain): I noticed sudden and vivid images. When Harry Handford writes, he lets himself go, breaking and reassembling pictures in front of his eyes. Speaking of it, almost simultaneously, we mention Burroughs and its famous cut-up, that wonderful and absurd technique behind books like The Soft Machine and The Naked Lunch. Their song “Kinshasa Shuffle,” explains best what cannot be explained, namely their music. The clear, abominable riff, scales in some strange guitar position, Matt writing it on the couch at home, and Harry thinking about it. Then it comes the rehearsal room with the rest of the band, the next day, chaos taking an organised shape, magic happens, and they don’t even realize how good they are; this drives me crazy, with hope.
(adapted/translated from the original Italian article on SpazioRock.it)
