Into Life, Into Love: Champion Trees at The Others

Tamara Wanja
1 hour ago
5 min read

Photo by Joséphine Nydegger — *Photo by* *Joséphine Nydegger*

“I'm trying to write the perfect sentence,” sings Francis Christie, lead singer and guitarist of the indie-rock band Champion Trees, as I jump out of the overground in Stoke Newington; unsure of my trajectory, I walk cautiously towards the venue. I land on Manor Road in front of the Manor smoker club, feeling hesitant, until I spot a middle-aged couple, seemingly as lost as me. “It's really all right,” continues the vocalist in my headphones. We trudge up the stairs together and stumble upon a contrastingly different atmosphere than the uncertainty previously inhabiting us.

Champion Trees stems from the collaboration between cousins Francis Christie and Alexis Pienaar, united by a shared love for indie rock bands and live music. Initially four students, the band formed in late 2018 at the University of Cape Town before relocating to the London music scene in early 2023. Since then, the cousins have been joined by James Bickford-Smith on violin and synthesisers, Michael Burke on saxophone, and Michelle Hromin on clarinet. The band’s name comes from the “Champion Trees” monuments in the Western Cape’s Arderne Gardens, which aim to protect the region’s oldest and most majestic trees — perhaps as independent bands and venues ought to be protected.

As I open the door to the quaint vinyl shop, The Others, the distinctively folky sound of Roisín Gowen fills the air, kicking off this evening of indie-rock music alongside her guitarist, James Carey. This evening feels charged by souvenirs, as Roisín evokes her memories in South Africa, playing with Champion Trees’ saxophonist and singer in childhood and teenage bands. Roisín’s story echoes with Francis’ later in the night recollection of school groups, early musical experiences, and class presentations on U2. Her voice, reminiscent of legend Joan Baez, carries clever lyrics and a moving sincerity. She closes her set with a beautifully touching cover of Joni Mitchell, her voice perfectly suited to the material while maintaining a unique warmth.

The thirty-minute wait between sets allows my friend and I to enjoy boiling hot teas from the bar, served with the bartender's kindness. The venue offers both a calming ambiance as well as a buzzing atmosphere; everyone seems to know each other or is eager to discover one another, smiling as they pass you by the stairs to the back garden, where a group of friends can be heard laughing and sharing their mutual love for independent venues and gigs. Leather couches are situated on the sides of the room, creating the feel of a living room — one where, after one too many drinks, musician friends might break out into an impromptu performance. Cheery personalities, Doc Martens, and leather jackets abound, celebrating a lovely Friday evening filled with delightful music.

The second opening act, Kaspar Hauser, is a South London chamber pop and experimental band formed in 2022. They would later perform a last-minute gig at Morocco Bound to kick off Independent Venue Week. With literal lyrics and sensitive orchestration, they effectively prepare the public for the next act.

The stage at The Others is minimal, defined only by a red carpet that separates the musicians from the crowd. I find myself in the front row, near the lead singer’s guitar, and I am immediately swept away by the opening tune, “I Wear a Shirt That Says Australia” — which might just be my favourite of theirs. The acoustic guitar and singular voice of the singer perfectly open both their album and the performance. Allowing a moment of quietness and contemplation, Francis Christie is then joined by a soothing saxophone and strings that reach a specific tender spot in one’s heart. The song explores a meditation on the passing of time, illustrating the complexity of finding one’s place in the world; the emotional intensity of the lyrics is contrasted by the title, a musing on tourist shirts. The seeming futility of such a piece of clothing gently builds in opposition with the sorrowful voice of the singer.

In between songs, lead singer Francis Christie thanks the public for being “more than the usual friends and family," although the atmosphere of the room appears to be one big, extended family. The audience’s encouraging cheers and awestruck silence fill every pause. Perhaps, it is the way Champion Trees are able to convey familiarity and mutual understanding in their songs that brings together relatives, friends of the band, and total strangers.

The band follows the track order of their latest release, A Duck’s Water Off My Back. Francis jokes about the lack of surprise, though the crowd warmly understands, noticing how each song flows seamlessly into the next, enriching the overall musical experience. Their second album came out last November, with a launch show in London a week after its release. The singer accompanies each song with a story, sometimes getting lost in his words, with a touching awkwardness mirroring the charming uncertainty of their lyrics. His frequent "Anyway, I'll stop now" is often partnered with knowing looks from his bandmates. There is a quiet recognition between the musicians amongst the tender sound of the clarinet, a strong bass, and quiet chatter in the crowds. The artists seem beautifully comfortable with each other, listening attentively to their sound, and with the cousins wonderfully harmonising with each other.

Overall, I am struck by the loveliness of it all, by the support from a smiling crowd, and by the closed eyes that incorporate the music into their very being. The performance becomes almost participatory, especially when Francis introduces an unreleased song and wonders aloud whether it should be one long piece or three shorter ones. My friend and I synchronously look at each other, agreeing that the longer the better, that the song cannot be cut, and that the length builds a tension — immersing us into their story of loss, of longing, of yearning, and all that comes with it.

“Gentle, Apple, Balanced” quickens the pace of the evening, creating nodding heads in the public and elbows clashing. Two of their songs refer to a mysterious Richard; their first album’s “So Says Richard” summons men who idolise Camus and reflect on the inevitability of death. The cynicism of the song is mixed with the upbeat drumming, creating a precise irony. The wittiness of Champion Trees’ lyrics produces chuckles and smirks in the audience throughout the evening. The second album’s “Richard 2” revisits the enigmatic figure; the singer’s plaintive tone echoes a familiar anxiety of “trying to write the perfect sentence,” which Champion Trees repeatedly does, though the insecurity brings a proximity and relatability to the experience. The last song’s chorus is sung partly by the singer, but mostly by the crowd, chanting, “Where’s my baby tonight?” The ones who have attended multiple gigs, connoisseurs of the band, family, friends, or supportive fans merge as one voice, echoing the singer’s interrogation.

As the concert comes to an end, I find myself longing for more songs, more time in these wonderful venues, more connection with perfect strangers, and a close friend. The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, and then, abruptly, the gig ends. The guitars, clarinets, violins, and saxophones are carefully packed away in their cases. The band joins the crowd for a pint and discusses their performance, while I slip away quietly, carrying the sounds of the night with me. On the bus ride home, I am joined by new sonorities, wishing to continue my musical escapade for as long as I can.

You can listen to Champion Trees on Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube, and stay up to date with upcoming concerts on their Instagram, following the release of their second album, A Duck’s Water Off My Back.