Hawklords

How long has it been since I last went to the Brickmakers? It's a question that always gets the same answer — too long. Norwich is well served by music venues in the centre of the city, while the bigger names at UEA will inevitably seduce you into taking a trip a couple of miles east. Too often overlooked, the Brickmakers is tucked away at the very end of Sprowston Road, inauspiciously next to the outer ring road roundabout. You could drive past it a hundred times and, apart from the guitar-shaped signage, not give it a second thought. Peek inside towards the end of the week, however, and you'll be confronted with a tiny gem of a venue. Although the main performance space is largely given over to cover bands, just once in a while something very special will turn up. The inestimable Hawklords are a prime example.

First us were Wicca, who describe themselves as Goth rock, and I'll grant that there were hints of Sisters of Mercy and Alien Sex Fiend floating around in the mix. For the most part, however, it was the likes of Angel Witch or Trespass that came to mind during their set. It's a sobering thought that I doubt any of this youthful band were born in the age of NWOBHM, but perhaps their dads had record collections worth raiding. Very much like bands of that era, the group showcased excellent musicianship throughout. Xavier Le Marchand was particularly effective on drums, while Ruben Winterbourne brought a touch of prog rock with his adept keyboard playing. Jack Godfrey took the lion's share of vocals, posturing admirably as lead singers are contractually obliged to do. Bassist Jamie Chillingworth might well have been his vocal match had he been given more to sing about. Dressed all in black — apart from Ruben, who apparently didn't get the memo — the band looked as sharp as they sounded, and while they might have been an odd choice of support for the headliners, who would be appropriate given Hawklords’ eccentric brand of space rock?

Hawklords have long since outgrown their antecedents. Formed in 2008, they borrowed the name briefly used by Hawkwind in the 70s, and were notable as a home for departing members of Hawkwind, perennially cursed with a turbulent line-up. The Hawklords have had a bewildering roster of contributors as well, with Harvey Bainbridge, Alan Davey, Nik Turner, and Dead Fred coming and going over the years. Mr Dibs came and went before I had the chance to see him. At the helm, however, remains Jerry Richards. While Dave Pearce has also been a long-standing member, it’s surely fair to say it’s now effectively Richards’ band. It’s significant, I'd suggest, that he's recruited Graham Manson for his excellent bass playing rather than his history, while Kriss Gordelier finally filled a Ron Tree-shaped hole that, after his departure, meant there was always something lacking in the live offering. Add to the mix Chris Purdon, from the much-missed Space Ritual (he'll always be Chris Mekon to me) on oscillators and audio generators, and the result is a revitalised line-up performing with an energy and communicative power. I've always enjoyed Hawklords gigs. But the stripped-back urgency of Transmission and Dead Zone, songs from the new album that they audaciously opened with, was surely a statement of intent. This is what Hawklords sound like now, they seem to be saying, notwithstanding that they were bookended by a couple of signature spoken pieces, delivered by the dulcet tones of Jerry Richards, a man blessed with a voice that floats on air.