Mirador materialise in London, touring their self-titled debut album. The band is a collaboration between Jake Kiszka of Greta Van Fleet and Chris Turpin of Ida Mae. They’re joined by Nick Pini on bass and keyboards and Mikey Sorbello on drums. But before we discover how good they are (or aren’t), we’re treated to the opening act, Lady Of Mars.
Lady Of Mars hail from South London and are fronted by singer-songwriter Neve Bowen. Their music sits firmly in the new-wave neighbourhood (as demonstrated by their credible cover of Blondie’s Hanging On The Telephone) with more than a hint of pop-rock. The lead guitar is excellent throughout, as are Neve’s vocals. Their material is more than enough to make you sit up and take notice, Girls That Play Guitar being a particular standout.
As their set finishes, I overhear someone in the audience describe them as “pretty fucking mediocre”. This is a wildly inaccurate appraisal. They’re not a traditional meat-and-potatoes rock band, sure, but they’re better for that. They’re inventive, and while still something of a work in progress, they’re clearly climbing upwards — and they will reach the higher rungs sooner than later.
It’s time for Mirador. You can feel it in the rising excitement among the young women gathered down at the front; some have even made small flags with the Mirador emblem, which is rather sweet. The band already have quite a reputation, and expectations are high. Their superb walk-on soundtrack only stokes anticipation further: Link Wray’s Rumble, Elmore James’s Shake Your Money Maker, and Jim Ghedi’s What Will Become of England, the latter accompanying their entrance. My notes after the first three songs simply say: “This is utterly astonishing!” From what I’d heard beforehand, I expected something akin to Led Zeppelin III, but they’re far more emphatic. They come on like prime-era Humble Pie. Both Jake Kiszka and Chris Turpin are vocal matches for Steve Marriott, and not many people earn that comparison. That’s before we even get to the guitar work — both men are consummate players.
They’re not the only musicians turning heads. During Roving Blade, Nick Pini delivers a stunning bass solo, followed by an equally impressive drum solo from Mikey Sorbello, who changes the pitch of his toms by pressing on the drum skins — something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before. For Syncopated Symphony (which I believe is still unreleased), Chris plays slide on a dobro while Jake switches to acoustic. Chris speaks about the blues legends who influence them, and it’s clear they more than do them justice. Chris’s dobro solo shines, while Jake delivers an acoustic solo owing a little to Jimmy Page’s White Summer. I’ll guess he’s playing in DADGAD — though I’m probably wrong. Either way, it’s bloody brilliant.
The audience — mostly the young women — sing along passionately to Fortune’s Fate. Earlier in the set, they’d been screaming. Miradormania? Possibly. Jake claims it’s the best audience reaction they’ve had so far. I bet he says that every night.
The only cover of the evening is a fiery take on Mississippi Fred McDowell’s Diving Duck Blues. Mirador have a spectacular sense of dynamics — roaring thunder one moment, whisper-quiet the next. For Ten Thousand More To Ride, Jake asks, “Shall we take it up a notch?” With both players back on electrics, why the hell not? The song is a riff monster in the tradition of Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog. The set closes with Ashes To Earth. Surprisingly, the encore calls are less than overwhelming — a shock, considering how much of a rock ’n’ roll tour de force this has been. Still, they return anyway for a cracking rendition of Skyway Drifter, which feels truly epic in a live setting. Mirador aren’t big on theatrics; they let the music speak for itself. Even so, Jake does treat us to a behind-the-head guitar moment during the closer.
This has been a fantastic show. It feels like Mirador have just planted a marker in London. I can’t overstate how brilliant this performance was. I am, quite honestly, gobsmacked. Whisper it quietly… Mirador might just be better than Greta Van Fleet. You read it here first.
WORDS AND PHOTOS: MARK KELLY
