All in the mind: Calboa tune up for Libertines gig in aid of mental health charity Tonic
Calboa. From left, Alex Brown, drums; Callum Blakeston, singer, songwriter, guitar; Matthew Robinson, guitar; Shane Brigham, bass
The Crow’s Nest, a music column by Russ Litten
Hull band Calboa on chasing the magic chord and feeling the love from Pete Doherty
Calboa are a four-piece band from Hull who started life as the bedroom project of singer-songwriter Callum Blakeston, an affably rakish fellow with an easy laugh, a dandy hat and the look of a young Richard Ashcroft. The pandemic saw Callum hunkered down with a four-track recorder, conducting the soundtrack to his inner mental landscape. As the various lockdowns and social restrictions dwindled to a close, additional members appeared in the form of ex-GTS Cardinals guitarist and vocalist Matt, who introduced bass player Shane Brigham. Long-term friend and drummer Alex “Albo” Brown completed the line-up a mere few months ago. Sinew and muscle were added to the skeletal songs. Blood and electricity fired them into life, and, like a Frankenstein monster with tattooed hands and drainpipe jeans, Calboa was born.
The band are currently preparing for their support slot with The Libertines at Camp and Furnace in Liverpool on 1st September. This is very big deal. The band are all massive Libertines fans. The night is a fundraiser for the charity Tonic, who promote the ethos of “Music For Mental Health Awareness”. This is something very close to their heart. I went down to an electrical warehouse on the edges of Hull’s Dockland to listen to Calboa’s set and have a chat about the upcoming gig, the fragile nature of mental health, inspiration, ambition and everything that lies beyond.
The Libertines. Singer Pete Doherty is a fan of Hull band Calboa
As far as rehearsal spots go, anything an electrical warehouse lacks in sonic finesse it more than makes up for with seedy rock ‘n’ roll atmosphere. The vibe is very Garage Land-era Clash. The band are huddled facing each other in one corner of a dark, cavernous oily space, against a backdrop of forklift trucks and battered iron shutters. It’s the sort of place where Bob Hoskins would torture a rival gangster. Four clicks of a drumstick, and we’re off.
Calboa work through their set with a louche and nonchalant ease that belies their tender lifespan so far. They kick off with a gloriously melodic racket called Admission, all twinkling riffs and charging headlong melody, and then proceed to shift gears through several shades of what could be loosely termed classic indie guitar rock. There are elements of the usual post-2000 class - The Libertines, The Strokes, Radiohead, along with various older, more classic reference points - The Doors are there, in the slightly sinister snaking rhythms, and there’s that omniscient Stones swagger that leans towards the darker heart of the rock ‘n’ roll myth/dream/experience (delete according to taste). I also hear other, slightly more left-field echoes - solo Julian Cope, the scratchy, skittery post-punk of Pere Ubu.
Calboa have got that intuitive tightness and ease of execution that comes with chemistry - people who trust and respect each other locking into a mutually joyful noise. They sound good and look the part. Callum moves over to the keyboards and picks out a baleful Oasis style ballad intro that takes off into a relentless firework display of a tune. The song is called Heaven Knows It’s Now and could well provide the type of stadium moment that causes sales in Clipper lighters to soar skyward.
The set finishes. The corrugated walls are still ringing. Blistered fingers lay gaffa-taped guitars face down on the concrete floor. We retire to a nearby workshop to conduct the interview.
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Calboa are an instantly likeable bunch of fellows. The name of the band, it transpires, was a drunken amalgamation of Callum and Balboa, as in the boxer Rocky from the eponymous film series. It’s quite an apt name. Callum’s song titles alone indicate someone who has taken a few blows in the name of his art - Demons, the aforementioned Admission, Love Is A Pain Of Its Own. He tells me he writes about the ups and downs of love and the addictive excesses that can often gnaw away at mental health.
Calboa rehearsing for their gig with The Libertines
This has, of course, long been the central dilemma of every bohemian wastrel since time began - does the road of excess lead to the palace of wisdom, or does it merely propel you towards rehab / prison / the graveyard? Is there a safe, fine tightrope that the aspiring artist can successfully traverse? If so, how many times can you afford to fall off? In short, is it worth wrecking your mental health in the name of creative inspiration? We debate the issue back and forth.
Callum and Albo are very open about their past experiences. Like most level-headed adults, they are aware of the accompanying ups and downs of recreational drug use. Callum cites hallucinogenic psychedelics as a past source of creative inspiration. “I’ve been to see the jesters, man. They’ve given me songs. But you gotta be careful, that it doesn’t become more about the drugs than the songwriting.” Albo agrees. “It’s a double-edged sword,” he says. “It’s like, you can only write these moving songs about recovery if you’ve actually been s***-faced first.” “I only have a sherry at Christmas,” says Matt.
We discuss the songwriting process. Callum describes coming back from psychedelic adventures armed with melodies and chords, most of which he doesn’t know the names of. “I have to show Matt where my fingers are,” he says, “and he tells me what they’re called. I’ve always wanted to invent my own chord, one that nobody has ever played before. Every time I think I’ve discovered the missing magical musical ingredient, it turns out to be F diminished seventh minor, or whatever.”
‘THEY’VE GOT THE TUNES’: Calboa at their rehearsal space in Hull
We return to more mundane and earthly matters; namely, the pressing matter of this gig. So, how did the support slot with The Libertines come about? Turns out that Calboa’s manager had played some early demos to Pete Doherty, who promptly invited them to play a gig. At Wembley Arena.
Callum: “I’d fallen asleep on the train back from York and my phone kept ringing. I sacked it off twice before I finally answered. It was Pete Doherty asking us to play at Wembley with The Libertines. I was like, WHAT THE F**** IS HAPPENING? My head just exploded!”
The joy was short-lived however, when that phone call was followed an hour later by a text from their manager, swiftly retracting the offer. Which was then followed by an exuberant FaceTime call a few days later from Pete Doherty and Libertine’s drummer Gary, re-affirming the gig. YOU ARE DEFINITELY PLAYING WEMBLEY! IT’S THE START OF AN AMAZING STORY! This electrifying development was then swiftly, politely but very firmly kiboshed by the Libertine’s manager, who clearly has the unenviable task of curbing Mr Doherty’s natural outpourings of enthusiasm. “It was like mental torture,” says Callum. But the love was there and it was real, and the Liverpool gig was offered by way of compensation. The rollercoaster of emotions settled to a happy stop.
‘HAVING AN ABSOLUTE BLAST’: Calboa
“I think we’re better off playing this gig instead of Wembley”, says Callum. “We weren’t ready, back then. I would have shrivelled up.” It would have been a great experience, no doubt about it, but they would have had to have gone on first, in the full glare of daylight, lost on a massive stage as people were still queuing for their chips and drinks. Better by far to have a couple of thousand sweaty bodies going crazy, right under your nose. The band are understandably very excited. To be playing a gig with artists that you love, and to know that you’re sharing that stage because they have chosen you - it doesn’t get much better than that.
So where do you wanna go with Calboa, I ask them? How far do you wanna take it? Callum says he wants to see the world, hopes that the band can provide a way to travel. “I just want to have fun,” says Matt. “I’ve been in bands before who set all these goals of getting big, and it can stop you enjoying yourself. It gets too serious, too much pressure. You can lose sight of what it is supposed to be about, which is a gang of mates having a laugh.” Albo maintains that he’s never had as much fun rehearsing with a band as he has with this one. His enthusiasm is infectious. Calboa are having an absolute blast right now. They’ve got the right attitude and, most crucially, they’ve got the tunes. Let’s hope this Liverpool date raises a ton of money and awareness for Tonic, and that Calboa keep chasing that magic chord, play loads more gigs, and have an absolute mountain of fun. Wembley, in the meantime, will just have to wait.
Calboa support The Libertines at the Camp and Furnace in Liverpool on Thursday, September 1, with special guest James Walsh from Starsailor, and DJs Peter Hooton and Keith Mullin from The Farm. The gig is for ‘Music for Mental Health’ charity Tonic. Tickets cost £25.
