After
seminal 70’s anthemic punks (the self-styled “first punk band in Scotland”, at
least according to lead singer Richard Jobson last year!) and my first real
band crush from age 13, namely The Skids, performed the greatest musical
comeback since Adam Ant with a couple of frankly magnificent gigs last June, hopes
were high that there’d be more to come. And I wasn’t to be disappointed;
determined to not just be part of “that nostalgia circuit” (again, according to
Jobbo), they released a PledgeMusic-backed new album “Burning Cities” earlier
this year, announcing a slew of 2018 dates to support it. Aptly titled, this,
as it burns with the fire of righteous fury and indignation, the band rightly appalled
at the fact that “the world couldn’t get any worse [than the 70’s]… and it
has!” and making their anger known with pointed lyricism and venomous yet
toweringly hooky punk rock electric guitar. It’s a worthy addition to The
Skids’ canon, so a gig or two was definitely on the cards. This one, in fact,
was thanks to my old friend Stuart “Langers”, who booked a ticket then booked a
coinciding holiday. Whoops! So I was happy for a free ticket for this one to
fall into my lap – cheers Stu!
Drove
down the M4 to Reading, a place where (Festival apart) I’ve been to
comparatively few gigs despite its’ proximity to the ‘don. No street parking
available, so parked up in the local Garrard Street NCP, having a bit of a
shock when I realised I’d be on the hook for £12 parking charges for the
evening! Bloody hell! Still, into the venue for 10 to 8, opener Charlie Harper
taking the stage as I arrived. Old (and I mean old - he’s 74 (!)) punk Charlie
bumbled his way through some acoustic versions of his band UK Subs’ numbers,
sounding surprisingly bluesy given this acoustic treatment. Sadly, Charlie came
across like a Sarf London punk rock Uncle Albert (from “Only Fools And
Horses”), making a bit of a mess of quite a few and remarking, “drunk? I’m not
drunk… it’s my guitar [that’s] been drinking…” Despite a bit of a singalong to
closer “Warhead”, this was somewhat of a carcrash of a set, the only positive
being that at 20 minutes, it was mercifully short.
TV
Smith was next up in short order, the former Adverts frontman looking
positively youthful in comparison, swaggering on, lean and mean, in 70’s punk
chic and remarking, “Charlie Harper, me and The Skids on the same night – don’t
tell me music is bland!” From the off, his set was way more coherent and
passionately delivered, an early “No Time To Be 21” frantic and urgent. Smith then
delved into his post-Adverts material, much of this stuff surprisingly possessing
a tinge of the shimmering Americana of Grant Lee Buffalo to it, particularly “Generation
Why”, a poignant and disaffected protest ballad. Smith was then joined by Ruts
guitarist Leigh Heggarty to flesh out the likes of an excellent “Gary Gilmore’s
Eyes”, “Bored Teenagers” and “One Chord Wonders”, closing out an impressive set
with some old punk classics.
Talking
of which… I wandered down the front, taking an easy spot, house left, amongst
the old lags – a real punk rock sausage-fest, this (as The Dickies’ Leonard
Graves-Phillips might say…)! Coming on to the urgent, insistent intro to newie,
“This Is Our World”, The Skids burst onstage with a towering, palpably loud
riff and a swagger, despatching this opener with fire and fury. “The Skids are still
alive and kicking!” announced Jobson before “Charade” – hell yeah, you better
believe it!
Once
again, tonight was an all-inclusive celebration of one of rock’s iconic, most
anthemic and enduring bands, Jobson and his charges giving it their all and
leaving it all onstage, maximum energy and effort, the band in full-on fantasy
band camp and a broad smile never far from the singer’s lips. “What a great
venue – reminds me of the sweaty old days!”, he remarked before inviting us to
dance as joyously as he intended to tonight. “Melancholy Soldiers” was preceded
by a discussion of the band’s various fashion disasters through the years (!),
before Jobbo deadpanned, “at least after 35 years the band’s now looking cool!”
A wag on the front barrier shouted for “Albert Tatlock”, Jobson icily
retorting, “if he calls for it again, I’m going to punch him in the puss!” “Working
For The Yankee Dollar” featured some brilliantly kinetic guitar interplay from
Watsons Senior and Junior, and “The Saints Are Coming” was a tub-thumping and
fist-pumping clarion call to arms. A proper – and surprising – set highlight,
however, was newie “Desert Dust”; preceded by a diatribe from Jobson about kids
growing up with no hope of jobs or careers, then making the mistake of joining the
Army, this was a melancholy and affecting slow-burn protest number, brilliantly
poignant and articulately delivered, but the kind of song I really wish The
Skids – or any band – didn’t have to write.
The
double of “Hurry On Boys” and “A Woman In Winter” both received rousing
singalongs, reverberating around the venue, leading up to the inevitable set
closer “Into The Valley”, towering and titanic as ever. Jobson – who’d belied
his 57 years by dancing energetically throughout and was by now soaked in sweat
– leading the crowd in, “Ahoy! Ahoy!” singalongs long after the rest of the band
had departed.
“We
thought we’d do a couple of dates then people would be glad to see the back of
us!” declared an elated Jobson before encore “Into The Void”. This, amazingly,
saw both Bruce and Jamie Watson’s guitars fail simultaneously, the band
ploughing on nonetheless and Jobson wisecracking at its’ end, “we’re having so
much fun even when things go wrong! Can you imagine what Snow Patrol would do
[if that happened to them]… they’d have a meltdown… Fuck off!!” In fact, we
were having so much fun that we didn’t really notice!
Another
brilliant set, another re-affirmation of The Skids’ music and legacy. I’d been
on the barriers since “Albert Tatlock” guy fucked off into the mosh early
doors, so was in prime spot for Jamie to hand me his set-list. Bought Jobson’s
autobiography from the merch stand guy, who remembered me and Logan from last
year and who promptly gave me another set-list! One for Logan then…! Paid my
£12 then headed off home; now looking forward to taking Logan to Shepherd’s
Bush Empire for more of this in a couple of weeks!
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