Make some noise for Maruja: they won’t hear you over their tambourine.
Image Credit: Cassia Bennett
Twirling onto stage with flailing arms in such a way that I can only describe as resembling an inflatable man, lead singer Harry Wilkinson makes his way to the microphone while beckoning for applause that the audience readily gives. Joe Carroll on the saxophone (and later tambourine), Matt Buonaccorsi on bass and Jacob Hayes on drums make up the rest of the unique Mancunian band, Maruja. Previously described as ‘jazz punk’, I’d say this categorisation of their music is probably the most accurate label they could be given. With elements of heavy rock, soulful instrumentals and subtly political lyrics, this genre defying band is difficult to describe.
In an interview with Craig Charles on BBC Radio 6 Music last Friday, saxophonist Joe Carroll describes their live shows as having “moments that are complete carnage” and sections of “free-formy, emotional stuff”. They start with ‘The Invisible Man’, which seemingly has both these elements within the same song, with repeating saxophone phrases that become earworms and lyrics that start at an almost-whisper building to a passionate shout.
Having heard of the frequency of stage dives the band commits to, I decided to stick to lurking more towards the back of Brudenell Social Club. Even though I am a sucker for a mosh pit, I feared I would not even survive the splash zone of a stage dive and refused to spend Wednesday night in A&E after being squashed by a fully grown man. Instead, I observed as the oscillating bodies were sent into an explosive, energetic frenzy. All Wilkinson must do is flick his wrist and the crowd responds spectacularly as he laments into the microphone.
Towards the climax of their lively performance of ‘One Hand Behind The Devil’, Carroll swaps his saxophone for a tambourine and proceeds to carry out the most vigorous tambourine shaking I have ever witnessed. As the drums accelerate, Carroll dives into the audience, tambourine still in hand, and glides atop the fluid crowd beneath him.
Following that intense performance, the band announces that they will now perform some improvised instrumental. A couple of audience members around me sigh and claim it as a bathroom break or excuse to get a drink, but the rest of us stay and absorb the new noises drifting off the stage. There is something peaceful in letting sound wash over you. I could try and focus on the music, but my mind wanders only for it to then be drawn back to the repetitive intricacies that each musician brings to the stage.
After this moment of calm, the band launches back into ‘Look Down On Us’, before Carroll yet again finds himself within the crowd. However, this time he parts the crowd down the middle and during the opening of ‘Thunder’, confrontationally plays his sax at members of the crowd as he paces up and down the centre of the room. Once he has made his way back onto the stage, the moshing begins once again.
Before their final song, the band comments on the current state of our world and leads a resounding chant of “Free, Free, Palestine!” before launching into my personal favourite, ‘Resisting Resistance’. Fully instrumental, it’s incredible how much can be said without any lyrics. From the underlying drums gradually becoming increasingly more urgent throughout the track, to the mournful sax. It sounds dramatic, but there is such a contradictory sense of despair and hope that descends over the crowd making it hard not feel an ache in your chest, especially given the clearly intended humanitarian and political context.
While we impatiently await the arrival of their first album, I highly recommend you experience them live if you ever get the chance.
Words by Cassia Bennett
