You must be successful at whatever you do.
This is the message we are constantly being told. But what does ‘successful’ actually mean? Is it to be number one in our chosen field? Is anything less… failure? I recently went to see the band Phlox play at 18.23 in Liepaja. Who? Where? An apparently not-so-successful band playing in a Latvian venue that is so underground even those in the know don't seem to know about it.
Phlox had come all the way from Tallinn, Estonia -- about 500 km to the north -- and 18.23 was the the halfway point of their European tour. I had never heard of this band before, other than the few Youtube videos hastily downloaded after my friend invited me to the gig. I suppose you could describe Phlox as jazz fusion, although it is a kind of fusion I have never heard before and one I could not possibly have imagined. The only way I can describe them is as being something across between Johnny Dankworth and Led Zeppelin. Their music is far from mainstream and it could be argued that no one so audacious as to push the boundaries this far could ever hope to achieve global success.
Had it not been for my friend, I would never have entered the dingy doorway of the Soviet era building that is home to the 18.23. I tramped along behind him up the worn linoleum stairs, nervous that the flimsy plywood bannister might not take our combined weight. This seemed like a really unlikely place for a rock concert. At the top of the stairs we paid our five euros – not cheap for this part of the world – and went into 18.23. There was no one there. The gig had been advertised as starting at 9 p.m. It was now 9.30 p.m. but somehow we were early. It didn't make sense. I glanced over towards the bar, hoping a drink would ease my confusion. I had been told that bar at 18.23 was little more than a plank placed over a couple of buckets. To me it looked more like a Soviet era writing desk bedecked with fairy-lights. ‘There might be something going on in the courtyard.’ My friend explained. Eager not to miss out I abandoned my idea of getting a drink and followed him back down the stairs and into the courtyard. There was no one there, either.
The gentle sizzling of frying broke the silence of the night. A hot dog van, parked at an angle in the courtyard advertised itself as ‘Gardumskaste’ – Box of Delicacies. We ventured closer and bought a hotdog. Apparently drawn in by the smell of food, shadows crept into the courtyard. Mostly young people, dressed in their own individual styles with haircuts to match - students I supposed, or people working in the entertainment or catering industry. I wondered how many of them had heard of Phlox.
The door to the printing house swung open and a group of leather-clad middle-aged men came out, chatting to one another in Estonian. I recognised them from the videos – Phlox. Phlox joined the queue for hot dogs, safe in the knowledge that they would not be mobbed by screaming fans.
The band has been together since 1999. That’s a long time to still be playing in a place like this. But then, it has gone through a number of line-up and style changes, so it is almost like starting again, right? The only original members of the band are guitarist Kristo Roots and bass player Raivo Prooso. I wondered which one had decided on the name Phlox. Whichever one had been studying plant biology at the time, I supposed. But apparently Phlox is not such an unusual name for a band. A quick google search will reveal several Phloxes from all around the world – all equally well known.
Phlox bought their hot dogs and sat down to eat. We could be here awhile yet, I thought.
I passed the time by chatting to people, trying to gauge how many of them had heard of the band. Not that many it seemed. Maybe like me, everyone else had come out of curiosity.
Eventually, Phlox finished their hot dogs, gulped their beer and extinguished their cigarettes. It was time for the show to start. The audience followed as the band led the way into the building and up the stairs to 18.23. Passing the ticket table I heard a shrill voice from behind me. ‘Hello! I am from Estonia!’ I turned to see a wiry man spilling over a fraying armchair that had been pushed beneath rusting overhead heating pipes. He was waving. Heavily pierced and draped in studs, his long hair was tamed into a thick plait that ran down his back. I had found a true Phlox fan! The true fan grinned broadly, revealing an uneven row of teeth. I thought vaguely about talking to him. But it was time for me to get a drink. And more importantly, it was time for the gig to start.
Phlox’s frontman, Kalle Kline jumped onto the stage and grabbed his sax. The band struck up a two-four beat. I stood and nursed my room-warm beer, while waiting for someone to sing. The mics all faced the instruments. Resigned, I knew I there would be no singing so tapped my feet in time to the beat. Suddenly musically everything changed, as if all the notes had been reshuffled. Dissonant chord structures, time signature shift, confounding the audience who tried to keep up. As the crowd complied to swing in time to this new meter, again the pulse alluded them and shifted away to something sweeter.
Motionless, the audience collectively abandoned their attempts to dance. I decided the music was interesting enough just to listen to and had elected to do so when I felt someone rush past me. The true fan sprinted across the hall. He took a chair, sat down in front of the one amplifier cabinet and began to thrust his fist into the air in the sign of the devil. He had managed to find the beat and he stuck with it.
18.23 might not be the easiest place for a musical performance. Sound bounces off the concrete walls and by the time it reaches your ears it’s a little mushed together. However, I could still clearly make out rock guitar riffs that sat curiously well on top of the cool jazz vibes supplied by the vintage moog of Pearu Helenurm. The frequent and complicated time signature changes were led expertly by the bass and Madis Zilmer on drums.
So intoxicated by the mellow jazz beats and screeching guitar solos, the true fan vibrated wildly on his chair. I watched anxiously as he reached up and unfurled his locks. He was about to head-bang. Before I could react, his slight silhouette leapt up in front of the flood-lit stage, casting shadows like a sprite dancing around a forest bonfire. Would anyone else be as discomforted by this brazen act of bravado? I looked around and saw that rather than recoiling in embarrassment the audience of reserved Latvians were tapping their feet and swaying timidly to the unknown rhythms. The true fan had given them the courage to dare to dance.
Being able to dance to music is one thing, but it is already enough to just listen in awe as the band weaves together what should be incongruous sounds and antagonistic rhythms to form something quite graceful.
Although they might not be a household name, Phlox is a highly successful band. They have stuck at their game for many years, releasing a number of albums along the way, and have become extremely good at what they do. They have found their niche in jazz-thrash fusion and are actively involved in the music scene in Tallinn. If Phlox were to play Liepaja again I would be the first to buy a ticket. And I would be eager to see them play at 18.23. The venue’s charm is its strangeness. I am beginning to realise that what you expect from 18.23 is the unexpected. And that certainly describes Phlox. This ‘underground’ band has a growing number of fans, who can be found across the world in countries as culturally diverse as France and Japan. And in a place supposedly racked by poverty, the Estonian band is doing pretty well. They make enough to keep going and have even managed to find day jobs that give them a certain amount of freedom and satisfaction. I wonder if all the other Phloxes around the world are having as much fun, or if are they being too distracted by the desire for fame and fortune to enjoy their success.
Phlox bought their hot dogs and sat down to eat. We could be here awhile yet, I thought.
I passed the time by chatting to people, trying to gauge how many of them had heard of the band. Not that many it seemed. Maybe like me, everyone else had come out of curiosity.
Eventually, Phlox finished their hot dogs, gulped their beer and extinguished their cigarettes. It was time for the show to start. The audience followed as the band led the way into the building and up the stairs to 18.23. Passing the ticket table I heard a shrill voice from behind me. ‘Hello! I am from Estonia!’ I turned to see a wiry man spilling over a fraying armchair that had been pushed beneath rusting overhead heating pipes. He was waving. Heavily pierced and draped in studs, his long hair was tamed into a thick plait that ran down his back. I had found a true Phlox fan! The true fan grinned broadly, revealing an uneven row of teeth. I thought vaguely about talking to him. But it was time for me to get a drink. And more importantly, it was time for the gig to start.
Phlox’s frontman, Kalle Kline jumped onto the stage and grabbed his sax. The band struck up a two-four beat. I stood and nursed my room-warm beer, while waiting for someone to sing. The mics all faced the instruments. Resigned, I knew I there would be no singing so tapped my feet in time to the beat. Suddenly musically everything changed, as if all the notes had been reshuffled. Dissonant chord structures, time signature shift, confounding the audience who tried to keep up. As the crowd complied to swing in time to this new meter, again the pulse alluded them and shifted away to something sweeter.
Motionless, the audience collectively abandoned their attempts to dance. I decided the music was interesting enough just to listen to and had elected to do so when I felt someone rush past me. The true fan sprinted across the hall. He took a chair, sat down in front of the one amplifier cabinet and began to thrust his fist into the air in the sign of the devil. He had managed to find the beat and he stuck with it.
18.23 might not be the easiest place for a musical performance. Sound bounces off the concrete walls and by the time it reaches your ears it’s a little mushed together. However, I could still clearly make out rock guitar riffs that sat curiously well on top of the cool jazz vibes supplied by the vintage moog of Pearu Helenurm. The frequent and complicated time signature changes were led expertly by the bass and Madis Zilmer on drums.
So intoxicated by the mellow jazz beats and screeching guitar solos, the true fan vibrated wildly on his chair. I watched anxiously as he reached up and unfurled his locks. He was about to head-bang. Before I could react, his slight silhouette leapt up in front of the flood-lit stage, casting shadows like a sprite dancing around a forest bonfire. Would anyone else be as discomforted by this brazen act of bravado? I looked around and saw that rather than recoiling in embarrassment the audience of reserved Latvians were tapping their feet and swaying timidly to the unknown rhythms. The true fan had given them the courage to dare to dance.
Being able to dance to music is one thing, but it is already enough to just listen in awe as the band weaves together what should be incongruous sounds and antagonistic rhythms to form something quite graceful.
Although they might not be a household name, Phlox is a highly successful band. They have stuck at their game for many years, releasing a number of albums along the way, and have become extremely good at what they do. They have found their niche in jazz-thrash fusion and are actively involved in the music scene in Tallinn. If Phlox were to play Liepaja again I would be the first to buy a ticket. And I would be eager to see them play at 18.23. The venue’s charm is its strangeness. I am beginning to realise that what you expect from 18.23 is the unexpected. And that certainly describes Phlox. This ‘underground’ band has a growing number of fans, who can be found across the world in countries as culturally diverse as France and Japan. And in a place supposedly racked by poverty, the Estonian band is doing pretty well. They make enough to keep going and have even managed to find day jobs that give them a certain amount of freedom and satisfaction. I wonder if all the other Phloxes around the world are having as much fun, or if are they being too distracted by the desire for fame and fortune to enjoy their success.
Phlox 2014 European tour:
25.10.14 + Hedvig Mollestad Trio @ Von Krahl 19.09.14 Duisburg, GE
18.09.14 Paris, FR
12.09.14 Jazz Off Festival, Colmar, FR
06.09.14 Liepaja, LT (Andreja Pumpura iela 10)
02.08.14 Intsikurmu festival
28.06.14 Kullaaugu (Talamak, Badass Yuki, Galaktlan, Wochtzhee, Öökülm etc)
18.05.14 + Mats & Morgan (SWE) @ Von Krahl
For more information about Phlox follow the link to their official website
http://phlox.imelaps.ee/
For more information about 18.23 please see their facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/1823liepaja
http://phlox.imelaps.ee/
For more information about 18.23 please see their facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/1823liepaja