842 SIMPLE MINDS 5X5 TOUR, Birmingham O2 Academy, Friday 24 February 2012

I think it’s only appropriate to start this review with my comments from the Ex Simple Minds show of 18 months ago; “I'm used to receiving looks of bafflement when I say Simple Minds, latterly the epitome of bloated stadium rock boredom and the template for the similarly turgid likes of Coldplay, were, over the span of their first 4 albums, the most innovative band on the planet. Constantly evolving their sound from their early glam Roxy pop, through monotone yet experimental and intriguing industrial rock, synth-led krautrock to glossy and expansive European dancey rock, they were chameleonic, challenging and immensely talented”. Nuff said. It was this long-held belief which led me to check out their former back rows fronted by Owen Paul on a windswept evening in Oxford, and also to brave crappy weather and potential stadium rock bluster overload for a taste of that old stuff from the real thing in Westonbirt last year. So when I heard about this tour – promoting the release of an enhanced yet very nicely priced 5 CD box set of those seminal first 4 albums plus “breakthrough” record “New Gold Dream” (which was still bloody good, if slightly shinier and more commercial, bumping up to the point when they started losing it), with a tour promising 5 numbers from EACH of those 5 records – I frankly couldn’t move quick enough to grab a ticket! I don’t know their motivations for this CD release and tour – recent peer acclaim from the likes of The Horrors etc. for that seminal early stuff, the need to squash Ex Simple Minds by playing the stuff they concentrate on, the desire to pump a big wodge of cash into Jim Kerr’s pension fund, or any combination of the above – but honestly I don’t care. This was MY Simple Minds tour, the one I wanted to see in the 80’s and didn’t. So well worth the steep (hell, almost vertical!) ticket price and lengthy jaunt to B’rum, sadly the closest the “5X5” tour came to Swindon, but also the scene of a remarkable resurrection last year in the Adam Ant show. So, taking no chances on a Friday afternoon, and picking up that this one was going to be an early start (I was guessing 7.30, and that turned out to be right on the money), I took some lieu time and left straight from work at 3.30, still nursing a bit of the man flu. Thankfully nobody got in my way, and I was able to park in the Mailbox multi-storey just past the venue at 6 after a steady run up. So I had the unusual experience of waiting in the queue for the venue to open; chatted with fellow punters, including a couple from the Cotswolds and their 9 year old daughter who was lamenting the omission of “Belfast Child” from tonight’s show. I’m bloody well not! A note by the entrance stated that, as expected, this would be an early starting two-part set, but that part one would concentrate on the first 2 albums, different to my research which suggested they’d been mixing it up and opening with “I Travel”. So which would it be? That question was emphatically answered after the lights dimmed, dry ice enveloped the stage and the backing track played an early material snippet medley (including some tracks to be omitted tonight, notably “Sweat In Bullet”). Then, the boys took the stage and the scattergun synth opening of “I Travel” started up, getting me immediately plunging down the front, stage centre, and rocking out to one of my all-time fave Level 3 dance tracks. Vocalist and main Minds inspiration Jim Kerr was also “on it” from the outset, throwing shapes with abandon and exhorting the crowd to sing along. Despite this being early material, you can take the boy out of the stadium, I guess, but you can’t take the stadium out of the boy… Despite his best efforts and my rocking out, however, the gig atmosphere took quite a while to settle in, the early and fuller hypnotic dance of “Changeling” notwithstanding. Did this crowd actually know what was supposed to be going on tonight? A seething “Scar” preceded a careful, almost perfunctory reading of “Life In A Day”, before an unexpectedly tough “Hunter And The Hunted” proved a surprising early highlight. However, the thunderous, billowing synth pulse of “Love Song” topped that, strident and tremulous, the energetic Kerr finally getting a reaction from this crowd. “Pleasantly Disturbed” actually came close to topping that, all creepy and sinuously moody before building to a cacophonous finale, by which time I was moshing and singing along with 3 other guys down the front. At last! After a 15 minute breather, set part 2 commenced with a “Sons”/ “Sister” triple, opening with a terrace chant “American”, the Minds really warming to their task and igniting the crowd. Then – my time – a trio of “Real To Real” numbers, with a brilliantly moody and sinister “Factory” making up for a slightly muted “Changeling”. Set part 2 was generally better received and played, culminating in the plangent magnificence of the oft-overlooked “Someone Somewhere In Summertime”, a resonant final set number. They weren’t done though, and the ridiculously infectious, should’ve-been new wave anthem of “Someone” was an encore highlight, before “Chelsea Girl” saw otherwise excellent guitarist Charlie Burchill mucking up the middle 8 (hey, it’s a hard riff, and it’s been a long set…), before a thunderous “New Gold Dream” brought 2 ¼ hours of innovative yet nostalgic rock to a close. I could forgive some numbers for sounding a little unrehearsed, and the need to pack them all in precluding against any lengthy words from Jim Kerr, who moved the set along at a cracking pace and fully earned his corn tonight. I half expected some bumps in the road, but they were fewer than feared, and redressed by the simple fact that they were even playing these damn songs in the first place! A lengthy wait and much pestering finally saw me bag the keyboardist’s set-list, and I then caught breath and headed home for 12. Faith restored!

841 BIG COUNTRY, Gun, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 15 February 2012

Barely 10 months on, one of the Comeback Kings of a particularly notable 2011 year for comebacks, namely Big Country, are treading the boards again! This time they’re celebrating an auspicious 30th Anniversary; no, not of the first time I saw them “live” (they’re 7 months away from marking that August 1982 Swindon Brunel Amphi gig), but of the release of their first album, “The Crossing”. This saw Big Country arrive fully formed, moving between dramatic balls-out rockers, touching and careworn ballads, and expansive windswept epic rock workouts, whilst firmly establishing their signature guitar-led Celtic rockist sound. More importantly, it’s an album which you can pretty much raucously sing every word to, in the company of a good friend and 1,500 or so like-minded souls. So were the Big Man and I up for a repeat of last April’s triumph? You bet’cha! I tried to persuade Evan, down visiting my parents, to join us, but he wasn’t up for seeing his dad sing embarrassingly loudly in public, so it was a slightly man-flu ridden Sheriff that The Big Man drove carefully down to the Academy, hitting the quiet-early-doors venue just as similarly-reformed Scots rockers Gun took the stage just before 8. Their set of post grungey, late-period Rolling Stones rock’n’roll collision was alright, nothing more, and was met by swathes of indifference, despite the energetic vocalist’s best efforts. Their best number, their retread of Cameo’s “Word Up”, was clumsy and lacked the original’s quirky charm. Beyond that, much like their career, Gun’s set utterly passed me by. Took our usual stage left spots near to a very habitable stage-front (well attended, this, but by no means a sell-out), and chatted until the lights dimmed at 9, and Big Country took the stage, diving into the rousing “Angle Park”, a “B” side from back when “B” sides meant something. Mike Peters, again on hols from his Alarm day job and guesting on vocals, was the focal point of the performance, his expansive rabble-rousing gestures, obvious fandom for Big Country, and general honest bonhomie (including a nice early story of a fan who’d kept a bootleg version of “The Crossing” a secret for 30 years – until tonight!) catching both eye and ear. That said, the set really didn’t catch fire until half an hour in, when, “the journey to The Crossing”, as Peters’ referred to it, was complete. At that point, Mark Brzezicki’s familiar drumbeats and Peters’ echoing of the words of Big Country’s founder, the late Stuart Adamson, to “take the emotion and passion and make it live… share it, and come out screaming”, heralded the strident LP opener “In A Big Country”. Then suddenly, like a champagne cork popping, the tension was released and the place went nuts. “In A Big Country” was a brilliant terrace sing-along, but was even topped by a frankly stunning “Inwards”, which followed a show of hands as to which album cover colour everyone owned back in the day! (Blue won – I had blue). “The Crossing” was majestically delivered, all tracks featuring lengthy audience sing-alongs, every one a highlight in itself. However “Chance”, which Peters delivered standing on a chair in the middle of the mosh after being challenged to do so by some wag in the crowd (not me this time!), and the rousing epic swoops and tempo changes of the set finale “Porrohman”, which saw Peters shine a reflective light on the crowd from his guitar back, were 2 particular highlights. An encore of Smoky Robinson’s “Tracks Of My Tears” – apparently Stuart Adamson’s favourite song – was preceded by a punter proposing to his lady (been there, done that), before finale “Wonderland” and some kinds words of tribute from bassist Tony Butler, both to ourselves in the crowd and to Stuart Adamson, drew a 2 hour (wow!) set to a close. Ultimately superb stuff, as I had expected this time, so maybe last April’s comeback show topped this one in retrospect, as it was so unexpected. Nevertheless, this was another fine footnote to the legacy of this great band, and another fine tribute to their late and sadly missed founder. Stuart, your boys – and Mike Peters – are doing you proud.

840 NADA SURF, Waters, London Camden Koko, Wednesday 8 February 2012

I’ve said it before and this year it bears repeating, particularly with my new car making me paranoid to park anywhere that isn’t totally locked down; it takes a VERY special band to drag me up to London , especially on a school night. However Nada Surf fall squarely into that category; in fact they probably stack up right at the top right now! Nearly 4 years since my last “live” Surf experience, they’re back with what might be their best album yet, in the wonderful and magical “The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy”. Bucking their recent headlong descent towards slow-burn and introspective hush, evidenced in their last 2 albums, this one actually features some startling rock guitar! Galloping fast songs! Power and pace, even! However this augments rather than detracts from their stark, touching and lovelorn songcraft, and deliciously warm and confessional delivery, producing what is easily an Album Of The Year favourite for 2012, and honestly a real masterpiece for the ages. In fact, I spent a lunchtime last week listening to it and a colleague, returning from lunch, took a look at me and asked me if I’d been crying. This is evidently the profound emotional effect that this album has on me. I’m utterly lost in this album, and right now this band says everything to me about my life. However, this being the first time I’ve been to KOKO, I was unsure about local street parking; Camden Car Parks all seem to shut early; and other nearby NCPs charge £8 an hour! Fuck that! So after an early departure and a quick run, I parked the new car nervously in my usual spot in an eerily quiet Bush, having an easy but freezy tube trip over to Mornington Crescent , and hitting the venue at 7.30. A wonderfully ornate red-lit venue with lots of gold leaf carvings and plenty of viewing balconies, like a mini Shepherd’s Bush Empire, only far grander. I explored the various levels before support Waters sneaked on at 7.50. A young San Franciscan 4-piece, they played some diverting chunky and resonant indie power pop to evidently their biggest ever audience, with one racy number “Back To You” and the blond vocalist’s evident effort and enthusiasm a feature. The final number, an anthemic “Forever”, saw him step away from the mic and give an “unplugged” performance, after coaching the audience to sing the hook! Shades of the Gaslight Anthem from this young band, in a good opening set. Stayed down in the front rows, stage right, as the lights dimmed at 8.50 and Da Surf sauntered casually onstage. A 5-piece Surf line-up, this, with the usual trio of mainman Matt Caws, the sumptuously dreadlocked Daniel Lorca and drummer Ira Elliot augmented, “live” as on record, by Guided By Voices’ guitarist Doug Gillard and Calexico’s talented multi-instrumentalist Martin Wenk, to give the punch this robust new material deserves and needs. And this was evident from the outset, with the new CD’s devastating one-two opening combo “Clear Eye Clouded Mind” and “Waiting For Something” opening the set. That was it, I was bouncing around like a loon from note one, and had navigated my way through to front centre, by the time the heady rush of third number “Happy Kid” assailed the ears of this old punk. This was a wonderfully paced, joyful set of high-end punchy powerpop and warm, touching honest rock from Da Surf, with light and shade aplenty to delight and beguile. “Killians Red”, joyfully dark and morose, was followed in short order by silky and harmonic newie “Jules And Jim”, which featured a smooth, wide-eyed delivery from Matt’s familiar vocal tones and some rocking xylophone from Wenk, prompting some wag down the front (OK, it was me…) to shout out, “well, that was bloody lovely!”, and eliciting a, “why thank you, Sir!” response from Mr. Caws. A ferocious “The Way You Wear Your Head” was followed by the plangent magnificence that is always “80 Windows”, Wenk also embellishing this all-time classic with some understated trumpet. Da Surf were really cooking with gas in this set mid-section! The stomping “High Speed Soul” was messy and discordant, but actually seemed all the more fun for this rough-housing, before a mesmerising “See These Bones”, building to a gloriously heartfelt cacophony, like warm waves crashing over myself and the audience, rounded off a quite perfect set. A naked “Blonde On Blonde” preceded Matt, as ever a personable and gregarious presence throughout, telling us a story of his father’s flight from a cult and his subsequent struggle to stay in touch with relatives, which enabled Matt to introduce some of them onstage. “Don’t give up on what you believe in,” was Matt’s lesson, one well learned. The bouncy final number “Looking Through” brought a swift and magical 1 ½ hour set to a close, and as the band left the stage I caught Daniel’s attention and he handed me Matt’s set-list and took one of my gig blog cards. Fair swap! Caught my breath after a majestic performance from da Surf, chatting with some similarly supremely entertained fellow punters, before waiting at Mornington Crescent for the tube train that seemingly never came, nevertheless getting back to the car at 11.30 and home for 1. A late late one these days, then, but completely justified by a heart-felt, melancholy, yet uplifting and triumphant performance from a truly great band completely at the height of their powers.

839 THE BOOMTOWN RATS, Swindon Musical Entertainment and Cultural Arena (MECA), Saturday 28 January 2012

From a very new band last time out (Howler) to a really old one; The Boomtown Rats, 70’s Irish pub rock imports turned skinny-tie New Wave chart botherers and No. 1 hit-makers with “Rat Trap” and their signature classic “I Don’t Like Mondays”. In my formative musical years I’d been a mini Rat-fan (I still remember hearing the drum-powered adrenaline rush of their debut “Looking After Number One” on the radio for the first time; one of my favourite photos of myself is as a 15 year old on holiday in Jersey, sporting a huge metallic “Rats” badge; and I still own their fine sophomore effort, “Tonic For The Troops” on vinyl), but in my post-punk rockist early 80’s discovery period I’d lost interest with the Rats long before their charismatic original vocalist Bob Geldof did the same, Bob instead concentrating on saving the world with Live Aid. This reformed Rats line-up therefore was more an “Ex Simple Minds” formation, featuring two original band members, guitarist Garry Roberts and drummer Simon Crowe, but shorn of “Sir” Bob’s towering presence. But recent similar gigs (Thin Lizzy, Big Country, even the aforementioned Ex-Minds) had worked out well, plus it’s just up the MECA, and if nothing else, it’d be fun to hear those songs “live”, so why not? However, when I arrived at the venue at 7 (½ hour before their advertised onstage time of 7.30 as support to a T Rex line-up) it felt I was the only one who thought that! Around 50 or so punters – mainly older couples – huddled around the back bar, and the main hall was still cordoned off! Yipe! Organiser Steve Causer’s going to take a bath on this one, I thought… The ropes came off about 7.30 and I wandered down the front as the place slowly filled up to a respectable level, for an early Swindon crowd… The 4-piece Rats hit the dry-ice shrouded stage at 7.45, the thick-set monolith guitarist Roberts and beefy drummer Crowe augmented by a ratty-looking (appropriately enough) vertical-haired vocalist/bassist of similar vintage, ironically also called Bob (“we call him Little Bob,” Crowe informed us at one point) plus a young gun on extra guitar. Opener “Mary Of The Fourth Form” chuntered along well, but sounded a little like muddy old lag pub rock, and I thought at this point this gig might have gone down better at the Furnace! It took until 4th number, a sing-along-tastic “Someone’s Looking At You”, to really get this thus-far turgid set going for me, this being a tremendous version of one of their more overlooked numbers. “Most of our songs are about death, and this is no exception…” said Roberts before the tango beat of “Diamond Smiles”, followed by a fine mid-set double of “Number One” (which required drummer Crowe to catch his breath afterwards!) and the jerky Wire-like “Like Clockwork”. A Dr. Feelgood homage revealed their pub rock roots, but was a murky bluesy rant, featuring a raspy lead vocal from Crowe, and I lamented the omission of the epic “(I Never Loved) Eva Braun” from the set at the expense of this. However they finished strongly, with a real crowd-pleasing final salvo of their angry, sprawling working class manifesto “Rat Trap”, their “Common People” of the late 70’s; the terrace chant punk pogo of “She’s So Modern”; and finally a “rock” version of “I Don’t Like Mondays”, which still stood up well shorn of the distinctive piano treatment, and finally got Swindon singing along, the resounding and elongated final hook echoing around the venue. So, overall an uneven (as I expected) but worthwhile show, and yes it was fun to hear those songs “live”! I grabbed a set-list, then hung out briefly afterwards, catching drummer Crowe as he briefly poked his head out from backstage to greet some friends, and getting him to sign said list. Then, with utterly no interest in “headliners” T Rex whatsoever, I headed home for one of the earliest home arrivals from an evening gig ever – 9.30!

838 HOWLER, Man Made, The Gentry Underground, Six Minutes To Sunrise, Southampton Joiner's Arms, Wednesday 25 January 2012

I need to thank the NME for this lot. Struggling for a reliable outlet to discover new bands (a recent Dara O’Braian TV stand-up performance made reference to new parents having to give up “New Music,” and I empathise with that!), I jumped all over their recent “100 New Bands For 2012” issue, figuring at least one potentially exciting new band might be worth the price. I’m always looking for the next new band to blow my socks off, me! Howler were in fact the lead band, 19 year old vocalist Jordan Gatesmith sporting a cut-off New York Mets t-shirt, which, along with a good write-up, their home town being Minneapolis (home of Husker Du and the Hold Steady) and a snatched Youtube song, “Back Of Your Neck”, persuaded me to book tix for this gig. On lesser things, however, are dynasties built… A hasty acquisition of their debut, “America Give Up”, reinforced this positive and promising view, but where I heard potentially thrilling crunchy guitar and swaggering new wave melody in a Replacements meets Modern Lovers vein, Rachel heard, “same old, same old”. So I headed down to the Joiners on my own, again glorying in how close Southampton is, and parking up in a handy (and free!) car park behind the easy-to-find venue. Only caught the last 2 numbers of openers Six Minutes To Sunrise, which was unfortunate as one was a fragile post-recovery number about the stylishly black shirted and red-tied vocalist’s recent serious illness, and the other a chunkier and more robust indie rocker. Certainly better than The Gentry Underground, next up; another smartly dressed bunch, but purveyors of an interminable and primitive blues jam howl, with the floppy fringed Ben Kweller lookalike vocalist screaming unintelligibly throughout. They no doubt believe they’re “psychedelic”, but they were just a godawful racket. Julian Cope would probably love them. Dumped merch back in the car just to escape the noise awhile, and compared survivors’ notes with SMTS’ affable vocalist outside instead. I overheard an excellent snippet of conversation (girl; “who writes their (TGU’s) lyrics?”: boyfriend ;“what lyrics?”) whilst wandering back through for main support Man Made at 9.30, following a fiddly soundcheck. He underlined the favourable impression forged by his Buffalo Tom support last year; rocking a spangly gold jacket this time, instead of the green and black jumper of my youth, his earnest set of haunting, slightly US alt-rock influenced angst was effects-pedal propelled and mighty fine, and featured plaintive keening vocals reminiscent of Placebo’s Brian Molko. A cynical and wilful attitude too (“I’m going to play a couple more songs then you can go back to enjoying your evening”!), but another good set. I stayed down the front against the monitors, stage left – a pocket of space in this crammed little venue! – for Howler’s entrance at 10.30. Led by Gatesmith, an angular black leather clad spider-plant of a man-child, like a stretched “Saint Julian”-era Cope with a floppier fringe and a more laconic, Stan Ridgeway meets Julian Casablancas delivery, they rocked into opener “ America ” with enthusiasm and gusto. The upbeat, ramshackle 50’s milk bar doo-wop of “Beach Sluts” was an early highlight, their performance bordering on wild chaos but being held in check largely by drummer Brent Mayes, a solid and tough presence and likely the best drummer out of Minneapolis since Grant Hart! “We don’t have a set-list, we just kind of go,” announced Gatesmith following an onstage band consultation on the subject of “what are we playing now?” which resulted in a deliciously raucous “This One’s Different”, and the subsequent C86/Strokes collision of “Told You Once”. And all too quickly, their ½ hour set culminated in a moshpit-tastic “Back Of Your Neck”, their best number and the highlight tonight, the glorious soaring rush of the descending “whoo-hoo”s already instantly memorable. And memorable too was a chat with drummer-man Mayes afterwards, who offered to write me a set-list! Great stuff. Like the Vaccines, Howler’s lineage is obvious and easy to trace, but the bands that last the distance always have great tunes. And Howler have great tunes. A potentially great band for 2012 and beyond, I’m glad I got to see them in a small venue…

837 THE HORRORS, Toy, Oxford O2 Academy 2 , Thursday 19 January 2012

The Horrors,

for me, are proof that a leopard can indeed change its spots, or at least colour them a slightly different shade of black! I’d first encountered this lot 5 years ago, on the NME Brats Bus Tour (gig 723), when they’d played sub Alien Sex Fiend doomy electronic Goth, generally come across like a somewhat comic Munsters (black balloons!), and been well and truly blown off by the Mighty Automatic. I’d therefore dismissed them as one trick ponies (bats?) and ignored the critical acclaim heaped upon their sophomore effort, “Primary Colours”, a couple of years back. Silly me. After deciding to investigate, following similar acclaim for current CD “Skying”, I’d found “Primary Colours” as much a deliciously intriguing blend of JAMC wall of noise guitar rock and expansive and evocative Bunnymen-like 80’s rockism, as I’d found their current release a head-on collision of absorbing Krautrock synth and slightly baggy rhythm swagger. Good stuff, either way, and definitely a reinvented band worthy of seeing “live” – without the black balloons this time, I hope! So t’was that I headed down to Oxford on a blustery Thursday evening for this, the first gig of 2012 and the first with our new Skoda! Paranoid about parking it, I had to wait 10 minutes, then fight over a spot in the usual Tescos Car Park, before hitting the venue for this sold-out show via a double queue, which meant I missed all but the last half number of support act Toy. Apparently half of indie no-marks Joe Lean And The Jing Jang Jong, they’re now monotonous gloomy robotic rhythm types, going for The Horrors Mark 2 sound but ending up like Secret Machines instead. Still, a bit of a snap judgement on the strength of one half-number... This was a rescheduled show, following October’s postponement after vocalist Faris Badwan had voice problems, and one could feel the pent-up anticipation in this diverse sell-out crowd (rock dads as well as the youthful Horrors massive!), as The Velvet Underground and some other noisy tosh (probably also The Velvet Underground!) was played over the PA. Finally the lights dimmed, and The Horrors embarked onto the dry-ice choked stage just after 9, led by leather-jacketed Goblin King Faris, who perversely wished us, “Happy New Year,” before easing into the loose-limbed, libidinous dark groove of opener “Changing The Rain” (which “live” reminded me a bit of Chapterhouse’s shoegaze epic “ Pearl ”!). A strident and powerful “Mirror’s Image” followed, Faris a tall and commanding stage presence already grabbing the attention, and, despite being momentary halted by synth trouble, they kept the momentum with a superb “I Can See Through You”, “Skying”s best number and a highlight tonight. “You’re a smashing crowd,” declared the Goblin King, as the normally reticent Oxford audience went nuts, with a baying moshpit throughout. The kids love The Horrors, what can I say? The set mid-section answered my long-held query as to what a Goth-dance Bunnymen would sound like, before a strident, gear-changing “Endless Blue” recalled The Close Lobsters’ roaring “Mother Of God”, no less. Some drawn-out feedback preceded a stately “Still Life”, epic and robust, to round off a short, 50 minutes set. However they weren’t done, the layered Mary Chain-isms of their best number “Who Can Say” kicking off a resounding encore, which was rounded off by a lengthy, brooding and menacing Krautrock epic “Moving Further Away”, itself culminating in a crescendo of feedback and dramatic white strobe. Fine stuff. Another band in thrall to the 80’s, sure, but this lot are engorging a wide array of 80’s rock styles and regurgitating them in a chameleonic, primordial soup, proving themselves the unlikeliest of contenders in the process. Colour me wrong; The Horrors are no joke band, but a very promising and inventive force to be reckoned with. And no black balloons this time!

836 TIN SPIRITS, Swindon Arts Centre, Friday 9 December 2011

A local one to finish the year with, in two ways; not only a quick jaunt up the Old Town, but a return of locals Tin Spirits, who feature in their ranks former XTC guitarist Dave Gregory! Since my last encounter almost a couple of years ago, they’d recorded an album of original material and played with Marillion, underlining their “prog” status on their website header (uh oh...). However, they still promise XTC covers, and that, rather than their occasionally admirable but largely emotion-free prog-based covers or promised original stuff, prompted me to book a ticket and get the hell out of the house while Rach hosted a girly night in! So, bearing in mind the Roddy Woomble gig timings (and in the total absence of any other info from ticket or venue website), I left just after 8 for a quick drive up the hill, but then suffered a total parking mare. Squeezed into the last, over-parked, space in the 3rd car park I tried (!), then hit the venue at 8.30, only to find the band had started at 8! Heated words with the duty manager (whom I had to wait for to usher me into the back of the auditorium, delaying me further) didn’t help, so I was in a pissy mood when I took a seat as Tin Spirits finished up their “Paranoid Android” cover, and launched into a Led Zep number which I recognised, but didn’t much enjoy. Indeed, the first high spot for me came with a cover of The Doors splendidly creepy, sinuous “Riders On The Storm” before a couple of XTC numbers concluded part one of the set and cheered me up considerably. Firstly, a pulsing, undulating “Jason And The Argonauts”, introduced by Dave Gregory as a highlight of the last XTC “live” set (way back in 1982!) and with all herky-jerky rhythm, like a film loop played backwards, then the lush and impossibly melodic “Towers Of London”, Gregory’s wonderful guitar work to the fore as the rest of the band, awed, watched him, line astern. Now this was what I was here for! A couple of nice chats at the intermission, first with Martine, wife of guitarist Dan Steinhardt and a colleague on my creative writing course (over 2 years ago now!), then another with an old punk buddy, who likewise doesn’t like the prog and was there for the XTC numbers, and who remarked, “for the first 25 minutes I thought, what am I doing here?” So it seems my parking-mare didn’t cause me to miss much! Set part two eased in with a haunting, slow-burn “Dream Brother”, before it was back to the prog with Rush and Zappa stuff, and their own, much better but still occasionally unnecessarily complex, meandering and over-elaborate numbers. I admired the skilled, almost virtuoso guitar interplay of both Gregory and Steinhardt, excellent axemen both, but the material itself, despite being faithfully and authentically reproduced, was often anodyne and sterile, leaving me cold. A chugging “Reeling In The Years” however concluded the set, but they weren’t going to get away that easily and returned for a final XTC double. A stripped back and plaintive “Dear God” was splendidly delivered, and the evening was capped by a rousing singalong of “Senses Working Overtime”. Dan Steinhardt took lead vocal chores for both, injecting some real emotion and fire into his vocal performance (hooray!), particularly during “Dear God” which was my set highlight. So, once again the XTC “covers” (does it really count as a “cover” when one of the original band is playing it?), plus a couple of others, made the evening entirely worthwhile for me. I appreciate that in order to progress as a band and take this beyond “hobby” stage, Tin Spirits will need to concentrate increasingly on their own material rather than the XTC stuff, and at that point they’ll probably lose me, so I’d best enjoy them while I can. So overall, thanks again boys, for allowing me to hear at least a taster of XTC “live”!