1,259 IDLEWILD, Voka Gentle, London Kentish Town Forum, Saturday 17th December 2022

My 55^th and final gig of an utterly stellar 2022 gigging year (maybe even one of the best ever!), and we’re ending with quite the adventure…!

 Mine hosts were our old “live” favourites, wild, woolly and windswept Scots indie-poets and R.E.M. acolytes Idlewild, for the 15^th time of asking overall (including 3 times in a week in California in 2005, when they effectively formed the soundtrack to my and Rachel’s honeymoon!) but the first since their excellent “Shiiine On” showing in 2019 (gig 1,161). This one however sees them venturing South of the Border to deliver a start-to-finish rendition of their defining 2002 album “The Remote Part”; not only the album that moved them forward from their early fast-and-frantic “flight of stairs falling down a flight of stairs” sound into a more coherent, widescreen and literate oeuvre, but the one that (mainly thanks to the utterly brilliant leadoff single “You Held The World In Your Arms”) really put them firmly onto our gig radar. Lots to thank this album for, then, and high hopes for a performance tonight to do it justice…

 An Idlewild gig had been on Logan’s wish list for some time, so I was happy to fulfil his wish by taking him along to this one. Also joining us today for the ride was Pete “Monkey” Butler, so I picked the man up mid-afternoon, and we hit the road for an easy and chatty drive up to Osterley tube car park, just underneath the Heathrow flight path. Rammed on arrival (first time ever!), we however lucked into a parking spot after a short wait, then tubed over to Camden for the now traditional (and delicious!) Chinese street food pre-gig tea at Camden Lock. A short wander up to Kentish Town Forum saw us hit the venue 20 minutes before doors, then in early on the O2 priority (hooray!) with Logan and I bagsying a barrier spot, house left, Pete initially joining us then preferring a viewing spot further back for the bands. First up at 8 were support Voka Gentle, a 2 girl/ 2 bloke synth-based, white-suited combo, coaxing some very odd spaced-out sounds from their equipment. A weird melange of noises, this lot; experimental bleeps and bloops, echoey vocals, weird backwards off-kilter time signature drums and some occasional very lovely actually 3 part harmonies, but not really making much sense as a coherent whole. Bits of Webb Brothers psych-pop and Scissor Sisters disco falsetto as well; Logan very accurately likened one track to The Bee Gee’s “Stayin’ Alive”, then commented, “they sound like what you think drugs are going to be like!” Hmmm, note to self; play Love’s “Forever Changes” for Logan at some point… Anyway, back to Voka Gentle; verdict? Not sure…

 Luckily, next up was as close to a sure thing as you’re likely to get; keeping a full (sold out on the night?) and expectant crowd waiting until just after 9, the 7-piece Idlewild (the 5 core members being augmented by an extra keyboardist and violinist tonight) sauntered casually on to a 50’s crooner backing track, then burst into “You Held The World In Your Arms”, sounding sparklingly pure, polished and spot-on from the outset. “We’re playing “The Remote Part”, it came out 20 years ago…” murmured affable vocalist Roddy Woomble, close-cropped, perennially youthful and stylish in black sweater and white chinos, before an amphetamine-fast and frankly incendiary “Modern Way Of Letting Go” then ceded to an astonishing, spine-tingling “American English”, possibly the best I’ve ever heard this hallowed track, the sky-scraping hook sung back lustily by the devoted. What. A. Start!

 

“Anyone see us at do “The Remote Part” at Brixton Academy in 2002? [If so] thanks for the returning custom!” deadpanned an effusive Roddy, before the delicious violin embellishments of a tender “Live In A Hiding Place” saw them hit the album mid-point in remarkably short order, Roddy commenting, “we’re racing through this album! Luckily, we’re going to play lots of other songs…” An off kilter “Century After Century” was discordant yet delicious, “Stay The Same” (“one of our pop-punk numbers!”) was an unheralded and unexpected delight, then album closer “The Remote Part” eased in like a touching folky elegy, before breaking into a squalling noise-fest, the unstoppably kinetic guitarist Rod Jones channelling his inner Bob Mould to perfection. A brilliant rendition of a classic album, well deserving of the lengthy ovation.

 

That wasn’t it though; the glam stomp of newie “Dream Variations” led into a brilliantly savage yet singalong “Roseability”, then the angular, off kilter riff of “These Wooden Ideas” and a sweeping “El Capitan” with its haunting repetitive circular hook outro, again sung back by the masses, were highlights of set part 2, before the soaring “whoa-oh” harmonies and understated contemplation of “Love Steals Us From Loneliness” rounded off the set. A 4 song encore, “dialling it back to the 90’s,” as Roddy put it, kicked off with the repetitive terrace-chant hook of “Little Discourage”, a brilliantly taut and wiry “When I Argue I See Shapes” and the fire alarm blare of “Film For The Future” ultimately closing out a triumphant and quite majestic performance, Roddy leading the band off after profusely thanking the crowd for their support down the years, and the all-action, monitor-straddling jumping bean Rod unmooring his set-list for me, before heading off for a well-earned rest. Result!

 Again, that wasn’t it, though; the cross-town tube trek saw us back at Osterley just before midnight, however on arrival we discovered a fellow parker had crashed into the high kerbs at the top of the ramp and was blocking the only – and very narrow – access route whilst trying to replace a damaged and flat front wheel! D’oh! After scraping ice off our car and noting the lack of progress, we went back up to offer assistance (everybody else seemingly just stewing in their cars at this point!) and soon realised the guy was struggling with a continually slipping jack, so I solicited aid from fellow waiting motorists and ultimately ended up practically project managing the situation (yeah, “more ornament than use” little old me!), our team of (un?) willing helpers eventually clearing the blockage by ¼ to 1. Woah! So, we then hit the road, dropping Pete off and eventually hitting home at a bleary-eyed 20 past 2. Yikes! This was one for the books, though; a brilliant Idlewild performance, doing full justice to that classic “The Remote Part” album and then some, with a proper adventure thrown in at the end. What a way to end the gigging year! 

1,258 THE CHAMELEONS, The Membranes, Gloucester Guildhall Arts Centre, Sunday 11th December 2022

 

The penultimate gig of 2022 saw me once again seeking out Manchester’s finest 80’s dark goth-tinged widescreen post-punkers The Chameleons, for the second time this calendar year. Like February’s stellar performance at The Fleece (gig 1,207), this one was billed as a “35^th Anniversary” celebration performance of their sophomore 1985 album, “What Does Anything Mean, Basically?”, although an element of confusion was latterly added to proceedings, with main-man Mark Burgess’ proclamation on Facebook only yesterday that, “for the time being at least, I’m not going to take part in any more “album performances”…” Straight from the Lion’s Mouth, as it were… so what to expect from tonight’s gig?

 Well, a dodgy journey, for starters; with the UK in the grip of a prolonged cold snap, I hit the road in minus temperatures, pussy-footing it along the oft-treacherous A419 to Gloucester and parking up in a rather slushy car park around the corner from the Leisure Centre. Quiet early doors, this one; this might be the province of the select (and hardy!) few tonight! Gig buddy and Gloucester resident Simon turned up just before support band The Membranes were due on, so we wandered in together to grab a barrier spot, house right, and catch John Robb’s lot deliver a fine and apposite support slot of dark, dramatic post-punk noise. Opening with a funereal death march with a regimented drumbeat, then powering through a growling bass-led “What Nature Gives” and the upbeat, gothy chant of “Black Is The Colour”, they were snarling and ferocious tonight. And Robb was everywhere; ably supported by his band (featuring a goth keyboardist female in a Tim Burton style black rose-adorned veil, who also contributed Middle Eastern-inspired backing vocal wails), he, gravel-voiced (deadpanning, “has anyone else got this cold?”) and wild-eyed, was a riveting stage presence, really putting in a proper shift. Chatty too; the jagged, angular “Snow Monkey” saw him again deliver that societal allegory speech, then refer to me directly as, “the kind of guy who know about snow monkeys!” The racey “Myths And Legends” again rounded out another creepy, kooky, mysterious and spooky Membranes set, and another reminder that I really need to check out their recorded output…

 

The Chameleons didn’t keep us waiting long after that, ambling nonchalantly onstage at 9 and straight into haunting opener “A Person Isn’t Safe Here Anywhere” from their debut album. Not doing the 2^nd album thing tonight, then, a point underlined by Burgess himself; “we thought, sack that off and play a mixed bag!” Honestly, play what you like, Mark, it’s going to be stellar either way! And, once again, The Chameleons were utterly superb, their material, as evidenced by the eerie, undulating “Pleasure And Pain” often sweeping and swooping between tempo and mood changes within the same song, yet somehow sounding flowing and coherent, and underpinned by some quite startling, complex and atmospheric textural guitar patterns, woven seamlessly by twin axemen Reg Smithies and Neil Dwerryhouse. Burgess himself was also on top form and in quite voluble mood, augmenting his material with lines from the likes of The Clash, The Fall, David Bowie, The Doors, The Smiths and (mainly) The Beatles, but also providing us with the benefit of his wisdom and worldview with a few lengthy and acerbic between-song diatribes (“old people are scared to turn on their heating in the middle of the coldest snap for years,” being one particularly barbed comment).

 And the music wasn’t bad either! An ironic “Rule Britannia” was savage and vitriolic, a careering “Mad Jack” (“speaking of mad bastard despots…”) namechecked both Trump and Putin in its’ bilious tirade, and the tumbling drums of the sinuous, Doors-like “Soul In Isolation” were brilliant, Burgess’ delivering the appropriated line “all our leaders are insane” in his sonorous, stentorian vocals, leaving us in no doubt as to his opinions. But “Swamp Thing” topped even that, the circular, coruscating riff mellifluous and enchanting, the choral hook huge, widescreen and soaring. Wonderful stuff. An unplanned, requested “Nostalgia” and the expansive euphoria of “Second Skin” rounded off a superb set – the stuff dreams are made of, indeed!

 

A 3 song encore including “PS Goodbye” for a couple of enthusiastic girls just behind us, and a tense, taut “Don’t Fall”, which saw Burgess, all of 62 years young, leap from the stage and onto a photog plinth behind the barrier to deliver the vocal (!), rounded off another brilliant Chameleons gig, Burgess leaving us with another speech urging us to support “live” music and treasure these communal experiences. We do, Mark, oh we do! Cognisant of the conditions, I grabbed a quick list and bade farewell to Simon - great to see him again, once I’d survived his vice-like handshake, that is! – then hit the road for an easier than feared journey home with Mark’s final words ringing in my ears. This was again one to be treasured, from The Chameleons!

1,257 GAZ BROOKFIELD AND THE COMPANY OF THIEVES, Heartwork, B Sydes, Bristol The Fleece, Saturday 3rd December 2022

 

Completing my recent Fleece “residency” tonight is this one, which also happens to be my 30^th time of asking for Gaz! After a couple of solo gigs earlier this year by Bristol’s finest confessional punk-folk singer songwriter and ruffian troubadour (have beaten-up guitar and harmonica, will travel…!), our paths have largely remained uncrossed, his more recent Marlborough and Swindon Hop gigs coinciding with other Dance Card appointments on my part. This one, however, had been on the itinerary awhile now: Gaz’ annual full band “Christmas Do” at his spiritual home The Fleece! Previous such outings have been real highlights, and proper celebrations of Gaz’ uplifting and singalong oeuvre, particularly when fleshed out by his splendid band. So here’s for a hopefully entertaining Big Three-Oh!

 

After an afternoon supporting one of my children (Jami) at her piano group recital in town, I packed the other one (Logan) up in the motor, also collecting recent gig friend Joanna for a swift early evening drive down the M4. I’d sported my Darth Vader Chrimbo jumper to Jami’s “do” so figured, tonight is Gaz’ Chrimbo bash, so let’s keep it on! Hit the venue just before 7, greeting the recently Covid-ed but happily now-recovered Ben Sydes outside, then grabbing barrier front and centre on opening, Matt joining us shortly before Ben took the stage at 7.30. The place was already amply full, and Ben did his usual admirable job of getting the crowd fully warmed up and their collective larynx loosened with a few rousing and rowdy singalongs. The urgent “Crutches” was great, Logan and I chanting “knees! Knees! Knees!” at the hook, then Ben needed to call Heartwork’s Dan onto the stage to replace a busted string, the first of two such tonight! In fact, after the second mishap, which followed a singalong “Good Times”, Ben received a drinks shot from the crowd, commenting, “the best way to get over Covid is to get absolutely fucking shitfaced!” A plaintive yet singalong “This Was My City Once” was my set highlight, although the hurtling emo of “Still In Saigon”, coupled with Ben’s lengthy outro note, ran it close in another fine B Sydes set.

 Heartwork, AKA charming young bloke Dan O’Dell, was next up; his material was more angst-ridden and both determinedly and passionately delivered, demonstrated by “No Angles”, a pointed diatribe “about motherfuckers on the internet,” and “Fire”, a rawer heartbreak ballad. Between numbers he also showed some biting wit (“let’s get a cheer for the manufacturer of B Sydes’ strings!”) and a caring attitude, with a positive mental health message preceding his final, best number, “Just What I’ve Become”. Nice stuff, Sir!

 Only a 15 minute turnaround, before the lights dimmed and Gaz led the 6-piece Thieves on (no Nick Parker tonight) dead on 9, welcoming a full house with, “how’s everyone doing? Merry Christmas!”, easing into a slightly understated “March Of Progress”. “Gunner Haines”, next up, however raised the tempo and “Diabetes Blues” got the full crowd raucously singing along and raising their cans of Thatchers, Gaz reciprocating with his bottle of water before complaining, “I’m standing here drinking fucking rain!” Nonetheless, this didn’t detract from his and the band’s performance, which was as full-bodied and energetic as hoped, a perspiring and hard-breathing Gaz commenting, “I’m definitely not match fit!” but nonetheless leaving everything on the stage. “Getting Drunk For Christmas” was poignantly dedicated to, “absent friends,”; a rollicking “I Know My Place”, despite a 2^nd verse lyric ricket, was a tough best-of-set so far; but that was immediately surpassed by a blistering and rarely-played “Black Dog Day”, propelled in no small part by an octopus-limbed virtuoso performance by excellent (new? Stand-in?) drummer Lee Moulding. Another rarely played oldie, “Man Of Means” featured a splendid middle-8 break from violinist Ben Wain, and “I’ve Paid My Money” was another rousing singalong, “Gaz remarking at its’ conclusion, “you have no idea how satisfying it is to hear 400 people shout the word Dick!”

 

“Be The Bigger Man” was its usual superb and barbed self, Gaz then asking of us, “got a little left?” before the echoed chant of “East Winds Blow” and “Thin” closed out another, “AGM of lovely people!” as Gaz aptly put it, and another great, fun and inclusive singalong set. Quick chats with Lee (who learned the whole set in a couple of months on his work commute! Impressive!) and esteemed keyboardist Jon Buckett, before we briefly shook hands with the besieged merch-stand bound Gaz and headed off, home just before 11.30. So, the big Three-Oh up with Gaz, and a real celebration to mark it. Merry Christmas!