There’s
fortuitous timing for shows, and then there’s The Hand of Fate, intervening
where considerable need is required… Today marked my final day at work due to
redundancy, so I was dealing with some self-esteem issues and generally feeling pretty crappy about myself, and in
serious need of the healing power of rock’n’roll. Luckily, this was on; the 10th
Anniversary of Swindon’s “Songs Of Praise” promotions, the current incumbents
Ed and Dave (whose birthday this also was!) continuing their determination to
bring original quality “live” music to the denizens of Swindon, kicking and
screaming if necessary! The fact that an enticing bill was embellished by the
presence of The King In Mirrors, my friend Rich May’s fine band of jangly pop
purveyors, only added to the attraction!
So,
after an evening at the lake (still too cold for me to swim just yet!), I
headed up the hill, parking up in my usual spot for a wander up, and meeting
with Dave, Ed and Mr. “Paj” Jellings to lament my employment predicament. Took
a wander down at doors, continuing the chat with Rich before opening act
Canute’s Plastic Army. An army of one, it seemed; CPA comprised one chap and
his battered acoustic, deploying some eloquent musical shenanigans ranging from
Celtic tinged folk recalling Kevin McDermott or The Fat Lady Sings (“What Makes
You Pretty” being an example), to a more groovy US college pop vibe
(particularly set highlight “To Die For”), all played with notable dexterity.
His nan was also present, bless her, and he quipped, “she’d love it if I’d do
some John Denver,” then reeled off a couplet from “Annie’s Song”! Recalling
compere Ed’s pre-set comment declaiming the proliferation of covers bands, he
introduced a well-observed cover of The Kinks’ “Do You Remember Walter” with,
“this one resembles a song written by
Ray Davies in 1969,” and finale “Day 35” was a late-period Jam-esque
confessional, highlighting mod-ish roots and closing out an intriguing opening
set.
Rich
left me then to take up position onstage, so I chatted with his delightful wife
Helen before The King In Mirrors were ready to go. From the outset, their sound
was tougher and fuller than previous shows, giving their material an extra
dimension, the Razorcuts-like warm and optimistic opener “Little Voices” being
first to benefit. “Rolling In The Sun” sounded positively “Songs From Northern
Britain” Teenage Fanclub-like, its cascading choral drumbeat underlining this,
and “Your Spell” (“about meeting [hefty bassist] Jase at the roller-disco in
1982,” quipped Rich) was its’ usual spookier, Cure-like self. “Hallsands” (the
first time we’ve played this “live”,” warned Rich, “so prepare for it to go
wrong!”) was a diversion into darker territory, an almost Violent Femmes-like
death march building to a cacophonous climax, before it was back to the pop
songs, the set coming full circle with finale “I Used To Be The Manager” a
meandering yet insistently groovy Orange Juice/ C86-esque chiming pop choon,
embellished by Rich’s fitting, slightly nasal vocal delivery.
Good
stuff, as ever, and all the better for the beefed-up sound tonight! I was also
hoping for a decent racket from next band up, Raze*Rebuild, having been
pre-warned by Mrs. May retreating to a safe – and less noisy – distance,
however I wasn’t quite prepared for the strident sonic assault that assailed my
senses from the get-go. Powering out of the blocks with opener “Back To The
Fall,” a Husker Du-alike fist-pumping, breast-beating, bleeding raw slab of
anthemic popcore, the band, featuring Paj on bass and led by Simon Hall, of
whom I’d caught a couple of enjoyable, passionately delivered solo shows in the
past, played the type of strident jet-propelled US post-grunge/ powerpop
collision which, 20 years ago, would have turned my shorts- and knee-strapped
self into a Level 3 top dancefloor whirling dervish. “Kat, I’m Sorry” was a
Springsteen-like blue collar power ballad with some neck-vein-bulging vocal
passion from Simon, recalling the likes of Buffalo Tom’s Bill Janovitz, “New
Leaf” was a Gaslight Anthem galloping rocker, apparently about, “dumping your
girlfriend and feeling bad about it", and after fielding some friendly heckling
about sweating more (“hey, I used to be 6 feet 4!” remarked the, erm, compact Mr. Hall), they set about a
wilful destruction of Fleetwood Mac’s AOR cheese-fest “Go Your Own Way”,
recalling China Drum’s similar demolition of “Wuthering Heights.” A titanic,
lighters aloft “Sand In The Petrol,” resembling Jimmy Eat World’s classic “Hear
You Me”, brought a stunning set to a close, eliciting a big cheesy grin from me
as I came to the realisation that I may have just found my new favourite band…!
Paused
for breath, brief compliments with Paj and Mr. Hall, also taking the
opportunity to avail myself of some of their merch, then took a seat with Rich
stage left for final act Port Erin. Opening with a bleak, slow-burn atmospheric
number featuring some echoey, resonant guitar work, then going onto joke about
coming from a small village in Wiltshire and having nothing to do (hence
forming a band!), Port Erin tonight played a tight and professionally delivered
set of intelligently crafted songs, occasionally veering towards 70’s AOR/ MOR
(I think they called it “soft rock”, back in the day…) but at best evoking
thoughtful US indie types such as Grizzly Bear, The National and even The Dears,
and thankfully mostly keeping out of the “prog” morass they threatened to
descend into, last time out (apart from one, somewhat meandering instrumental).
However for me they just suffered in comparison with previous acts, particularly
the overt dynamism of Raze*Rebuild, despite their own best number being their
uptempo, careering finale.
Bade
my hails and farewells to all and sundry, and finished off one of the cupcakes
splendidly supplied by Ed’s girlfriend, then hit the road, weary but elated. A
great “Songs Of Praise” night out, as ever, totally fitting for this occasion,
and a superb new discovery (for me, at least...) in Raze*Rebuild. All in all,
testament to the healing power of rock’n’roll!
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