1,319 NICK PARKER AND THE FALSE ALARMS, Siobhan and The Sunset Haze, The Lost Post, Winchester The Railway Inn, Saturday 23rd March 2024

 

If Nick Parker had half the voracious “live” work ethic as his former Company Of Thieves bandmate Gaz Brookfield, he’d likely be right up there atop my “most seen” list with the Bard of Purton; as it is, tonight represents the 9^th time we’ve crossed paths, which at least elevates him to 40-somethingth on said list… This affable and talented tunesmith surprised us all by slipping out a new original album at the end of last year in “Ow Denny Rayne and the Jistal Parts”, his first such since 2017 and once again, a masterpiece of beautifully crafted, varied and accomplished indie-folk with the Parker trademarks of warm humour, intricately observational Dury/ Squeeze-esque lyricism and easy melodic earworm hooks. And in “Living Again”, a gem of a song, for me likely his best yet and one which firmly encapsulated my mood at the end of 2023, following a couple of turbulent years. Time to fall in love with living again, indeed!

And part of this process would of course be a Nick Parker gig, particularly with his equally accomplished band The False Alarms. The “Nick Parker should probably tour tour” only featured a smattering of full band gigs, however, a couple too early for me to drive to due to my knee op, and the Winchester Railway Inn Saturday gig featuring an 18+ caveat. Boo! However, a word in the ear of accommodating promoter Jack got Logan in (thanks Jack!), so we hit the road for a circuitous cross-country drive down, dumping the motor in the station car park after a bit of confusion and enjoying some pre-gig nosh in Turtle Bay in town. Back to the evocative old pub to join the queue to get into the small, black-painted side venue; with most tickets sold, this one might get sweaty… Openers The Lost Post were on at 8.15; a 3 piece led by a tall cowboy-hatted vocalist, they plied a decent trade in dark Spaghetti Western or Coen Brothers soundtrack murder ballads, recalling (to my ears at least) the likes of Violent Femmes, the baroque atmospherics of 60’s band Love and even Neutral Milk Hotel in parts. Intriguing and a decent start. 

Better was to come however in main support Siobhan and The Sunset Haze, a 5-piece led by the aforementioned Siobhan, a tiny but chatty hippie chick who led her charges onstage, lamenting her recent absence from gigging due to a broken foot (I know the feeling, dear…). She exhorted us all to dance to their bright, fiddly diddly hoedown opener, but “Raise Your Glass”, second number in, was much more in my wheelhouse, an unexpected power-chord propelled punky emo stomper with a soaring hook belted out by the vocalist. Impressive. The subsequent set was enjoyably varied too, with “Drunken Carnival” a robust indie folk banger with a stream-of-consciousness chorus, and another “angry song” following “Lilies”, an understated ballad. “Witching Hour” answered the burning question as to what an 80’s goth Steeleye Span would sound like (!), and overall, this young band left a very favourable impression indeed… 

We kept our places down the front, despite working up a sweat in this now-packed little room just by standing there! Nick greeted us on his way onstage to set up, and I chatted briefly about what “Living Again” meant to me. In short order, however, he and the band were ready to go, kicking off at 9.30 with the beautiful lyrical detail and climactic musical build of “Departures”, dedicated, rather tongue in cheek, to “anyone who’s flown here today…”! Thereafter we were treated to a mammoth 1 hour 50 set (!) encompassing the breadth of Nick’s oeuvre, delivered with warmth and open heartedness by a gregarious, engaging (and newly svelte!) performer, ably backed by his brilliantly virtuoso team of musicians, particularly the two instrument-swapping Johns, Messrs’ Leonard and Hare, who varied between tin whistle, squeezebox, banjo and keys, often within the same song! “Maison D’Etre” was preceded by Nick commenting on Logan’s Pit Viper sunglasses, then referencing the pitch of the recent London crowd, who sang louder than his monitors and came across like, “a wedding party singing “Take On Me”!” “Don’t Play The Kerryman” was a delightful drinking song swayalong, but the subsequent “Living Again” was my set highlight, stark, emotive and epic in equal measure, including a subtle nod to me from Nick. Nice one – thanks Nick.

 “After All”, the, “angry teenager song I wrote in 1994!” recalled Sugar’s “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” in its’ breathless undulating groove; Nick’s niece joined him onstage for a touching duet to “Guess I’ll Never Know”; and late newie “Dolly Parton” had tinges of “Sgt. Pepper” Beatles off-kilter psych. Nick then eschewed the encore malarkey (“we’ve all got homes to go to – actually we’re going out out tonight!”), delivering a solo nostalgic “Half Of The Moon” before the inevitable and insanely jolly “Es Tut Mir Leid” and a frantic instrumental hoedown, the discordant opening and dramatic sweep of “Half A Song For Suzy” then closing out proceedings. Without a barrier to lean on, my knee had been barking at me for much of the last hour, but I’m glad I stuck it out, although we left promptly after a brief merch desk chat with Siobhan and fond farewells from the Star of the Show, limping down to the car park for a swift drive home. Great gig, possibly the best I’ve seen from Nick and Co. Here’s hoping for plenty more in future!

1,318 THE PIXIES, The Pale White, London O2 Kentish Town Forum, Saturday 16th March 2024

 

Barely 2 months after delivering one of their most stellar performances at Cardiff Arena last March (gig1,270), veteran Boston sleazoid alt-rock pioneers The Pixies announced another slew of UK dates… and this time, unusually, they told everyone what they were going to play! Three sets of 3-night stands across the UK, including a first London date on a Saturday, promising full run-throughs of their lesser-known but still seminal original 4^th and 5^th albums (presuming you’re counting “Come On Pilgrim” as album 1, which I am), “Bossanova” and “Trompe Le Monde”. Excellent! I immediately booked tix for nascent Pixies devotee Logan and myself for said Saturday, anticipating a boys’ day out oop the Smoke. However, my knee op not only put a potential spanner in those works, but also gave me a goal – to be fit to drive to this one, just 7 weeks after the op! Thankfully my recovery was swift, and I got the go-ahead from the physio on Wednesday to get back to normal activities. So, an afternoon oop the Smoke, at least…

 We left at 12.30, suffering M4 closures which shipped us up at our booked parking spot just round the corner from the venue at 3.30, then found Kentish Town tube was shut till Summer, necessitating a walk down to Camden! Shopping and street vendor tea at Camden Lock later, we hit the O2 Priority queue 45 minutes before doors, grabbing a barrier spot house left on entry; the knee had held up well from the drive and unexpected hike to Camden, but I didn’t want to take any chances! Chatted to fellow front row punters – including a similar veteran set-list grabber who’d read my blog! – before openers The Pale White, dead on 8. “Panic Attack” their second number in, was a muscular and hard-edged rocker, and an eerie mid-set “Nostradamus” featured some Interpol-esque guitar riffs, but otherwise there was little to commend their average at best, and plodding at worst, post-grungy set. Well, apart from the drummer’s antics, that is…

 The place filled to capacity during the interval; no surprise really as this date was sold out in a day or so, and represented probably the smallest venue I’ve ever seen The Pixies, certainly the smallest since their 2003 reunion… Roadies laid down multi-page set-lists (surprise, surprise!) and I hazarded an interval loo trip, squeezing through the crammed masses back to our barrier spot just as Black Francis led the troops (including brand-new and very tall bassist Emma Richardson) onstage to a suitably eerie backing track. And, surprise, surprise again, he spoke to us! Giving us a heads-up on tonight’s performance and the genesis behind tonight’s opening song (“the story began in 1893…!”), Francis then led us headlong into the spaghetti Western surf-punk instrumental “Cecilia Ann”, kicking off the “Bossanova” run-through. Unfortunately, the guitars sounded a little off initially, somewhat discordant and fighting against the mix, with Joey Santiago stamping furiously on various pedals from his copious floor bank in front of us to rectify matters. However, by the tremendous, rampant “Allison”, things sounded completely sorted, and thereafter Pixies were flying.

Both “Bossanova” and “Trompe Le Monde” are very varied and almost scattergun stylistically and tonally, the former the smoother, more melodic, almost hazily dreampop, and the latter more abrasive, harsher and grungier. One would therefore expect the set, particularly the lesser played tracks, to feel a little uneven at times. However, after the guitar mix-affected first section, there were very few lowlights and actually a tumbling cascade of highs; “Hang Wire” was an excellent sinister goth march (preceded by Francis announcing, rather macabrely, “I lost a tooth or two during the pandemic and saved them so I could put them in my guitar!”), “Stormy Weather” was a fantastic anthemic change-of-pace soaring singalong and the best of the “Bossanova” tracks for me, and after a slightly restrained “Planet Of Sound”, “Alec Eiffel” was a frenzied slasher movie of a track, really kicking the “TLM” rendition into gear. However, the subsequent “Head On” eclipsed even that; Francis gave props to the Reid brothers before launching into a quite brilliant galloping rendition of their Jesus And Mary Chain surf-punk classic, easily my highlight of the night. Surf punk perfection!

 The languid verse and fierce college roar of “UMass”, the gabbled, stream-of-consciousness vocals of “Subbacultcha” and the old school Pixies death march of “Motorway To Roswell” (Francis admitting, “thank you for the appropriation [on this song], we don’t have motorways!”) were other “TLM” highlights, before the albums run-through concluded and time allowed for an eerie “Slow Wave Of Mutilation”, an equally slowed down “Nimrod’s Son” (still featuring the audience baying back the call and response “Son of a mother-fucker!!!” hook), and a double false start to eventual closer, the poppy light touch of “Here Comes Your Man”, before the band as usual took in a lengthy and thoroughly deserved ovation. No lists (I tried; the head roadie said, “we’re saving the planet by reusing them!” which for the first night of 3 at the same venue seemed fair enough…), so Logan (who’d been in the mosh since 3^rd number “Velouria”) and I headed off promptly, a much easier drive home seeing us back in the ‘don before 1. I have to confess it did feel a little weird knowing what The Pixies were going to play next, but great to hear them go off the beaten track and spotlight their lesser-known works. And “Head On” was worth the admission price alone. So once again, all hail The Pixies!

1,317 STIFF LITTLE FINGERS, Glen Matlock, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 13th March 2024

 

After a year’s pause, it’s Stiff Little Fingers’ “Mad March to Bristol” time again! I actually gave this one a very very late call indeed, only booking tix at the end of February as there was a slight possibility that my recovery from my recent knee replacement op might be sufficiently swift to allow me to drive up to Birmingham for the clashing Echo and the Bunnymen gig. I’m recovering quickly, but not that quickly, however, and not wishing to jeopardise my pre-set plans to drive to London this coming Saturday for The Pixies’ gig with Logan, I happily went for this alternative, joining “The Big Man” for an almost annual excursion of late – 16 times in 20 years we’d been to see these original anthemic politico-punks, and my 21^st time overall!

We were also joined by old mate Olly, Rich scooping him up from Covingham then fetching me at 7 p.m. for a breakneck hurtle down the M4, parking up after a little difficulty in Trenchard Level 7. Support Glen Matlock was already part-way through his set; punk rock royalty he may be (being the original bassist with The Sex Pistols – but you knew that already of course…), and in suave, “gor blimey guv,” good nick for his age too, but unfortunately the set, based mainly on his recent “Consequences Coming” release, was average journeyman fayre at best, lumpen pub rock at worst. “Which Side Are You On” was a decent rocker, but for me the subsequent cover of k.d. lang’s “Constant Craving”, whilst laudable (“it’s about making a better world,” argued Matlock) was dull and monotone, and Richard Hell’s “Blank Generation” fared little better. However, the unmistakeable guitar intro to arguably the Pistols’ best song “Pretty Vacant” rose head and shoulders above the set, even with the extended chantalong outro, and the descending intro hook of closer “Head On A Stick” was easily the best of the newies. Matlock left us with the cry of, “thanks, and don’t forget – Fuck The Tories!” which again endeared him to the crowd. I liked him; his set, not so much…

The place got much busier in our usual house left spot as, for some bizarre reason, they played Abba over the p.a. Bah! I greeted friend Martin in the photo pit just before the lights dropped… and Val Doonican’s “Walk Tall” rang out loudly on the p.a.! “If the band walk onstage to this, I’m booing them!” I threatened to Rich, but happily it finished and The Greatest Intro Music in Rock, the pounding drum and roof-raising “diddly-doo!” singalong of “Go For It” thankfully heralded Stiff Little Fingers onstage, the bald, rotund and imposing figure of bandleader Jake Burns greeting us with the usual, “y’allright?” before launching into an incendiary “Suspect Device”, followed by surprising oldie “State Of Emergency” and a fist-pumping “Fly The Flag”. Excellent start, at least…

Burns then announced tonight’s intent to switch up the set a little and play some more unfamiliar tracks, kicking off with the strident hook of newie and tour slogan “Hate Has No Home Here” (“if hate is our default position [when we disagree with someone] then we’re all totally fucked!”). As if to prove the point of this song, Burns then dealt with a disagreement in the mosh (“here’s an idea; one of you fuck off over there and one of you stay here!”) before a fine, undulating “Silver Lining” and frankly groovy “Just Fade Away”. “Roots Radicals” was a tremendous early set highlight as well (“time to murder another unsuspecting reggae classic,” deadpanned Burns by way of introduction), but (and I hate to say this, given that I totally agreed with the idea of shaking up the set, after, as I mentioned, seeing them 16 times in the last 20 years here!) a few of the lesser played numbers in the mid-set didn’t measure up for me, particularly “Love Of The Common People”, which dragged…

Time to claw it back, then, and “Strummerville” (preceded by a tribute from Burns to his hero and Clash leader Joe; “I never wanted to be him, I just wanted to conduct myself like him…”) raised the game; the double whammy of an apt “Nobody’s Hero” and the excellent if truncated “Tin Soldiers” maintained; then savage set closer “Gotta Getaway” was easily the highlight of the night, launching into gear with Burns’ cry of, “go on ya fuckers!” Encores of a swaying, skanking “Doesn’t Make It Alright” and the inevitable “Alternative Ulster” closed out a variable performance which actually was very worthwhile overall, and quite excellent when it really hit the heights. A swift exit and drive back got me home for 11.30. Fine night out overall in splendid company… I don’t know if Stiff Little Fingers have many more Mad Marches left in them, but if they do, then I guess we probably do as well…!

1,316 PETE WYLIE AND THE MIGHTY WAH!, Bristol Exchange, Friday 1st March 2024

 

Another one that required a bit of (relatively) last-minute intervention… I’d booked this one ages ago, relishing a rare opportunity to see one of my 80’s Liverpool post-punk “rockist” icons, the effervescent motormouth and haphazard musical genius that is Pete Wylie, tread the boards, particularly at such close quarters as Bristol’s excellent scuzzy little Exchange, and also apparently delivering a career spanning retrospective set in support of a new “Best Of” compilation. However, the proximity of my recent knee replacement surgery precluded me from being able to drive, I couldn’t find anyone else keen to join me, and by the time I’d sweet-talked my dear lady wife into both coming along and arranging sitting for the daughter of the house, the damn thing had sold out! Bah! Luckily, a pleading note on Pete’s Facebook page elicited a couple of favourable responses (including one from the man himself!), including a kind offer of a free spare ticket from a fellow punter. So, all systems go!

 An early departure to drop Jami off, and a trundle down into very foreboding dark skies nonetheless saw Rach and I park up opposite the venue in relatively dry conditions, meeting up with our saviour Emma (AKA Flo) and her brother-in-law Russ. Bought them both a drink (the least I could do, really…!) and enjoyed some gig chat before doors opened, and Rach and I grabbed a bit of wall bench, house left. My first post-op gig without crutches, but I’m still not sure about standing up for 2 hours! No support, so we watched the place fill up with old rockist musos – never mind Rachel, even I felt quite young in this crowd!

 The band wended their way through the crowd and took the stage just after 8, Pete on last, resplendent in gold patterned shirt, silver trousers and feathered steampunk hat, and looking like my equally rotund and grey-goateed old friend Paul Crowfoot these days. “That was horrible trying to get [through the crowd] to the stage; I almost had to touch people!” the man quipped, before thanking Johnny Thunders for writing, “the story of my life,” the poignant acoustic opener “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory”. The widescreen classic “Come Back” was next up, the build to the huge hook both soaring and strident, and bouncing, breathless oldie “Remember” followed in short order, Pete commenting (not for the last time), “the record company said this would be a massive hit – they were wrong!”

 This pretty much set the tone for the set; a startlingly quick 2 hours of Wylie and Wah! classics through the years, delivered by a competent if slightly restrained band (Pete rated them, anyway, praising then with, “I love this band – proof you can buy cheap and do okay!”) and Pete’s own authoritative tones, peppered with plenty of quickfire wit, chat and storytelling from a genuinely warm, stand-up level funny and maverick one-off. A taut, claustrophobic “Better Scream” was preceded by a story about its’ Sounds singles review; “Hope” was dedicated to our gig saviour (“this one’s for Flo – it’s called, “Fuck Off Flo”!”), and the excellent “Sinful” was followed by a story of Pete nicking a clock from the Top Rank club on the Clash tour to give to Clash guitarist Mick Jones for his birthday, during his last visit to Bristol! Some serious moments amongst the chat too; Pete sharing his experiences of his recent ADHD diagnosis with an understanding crowd, talking about volunteering at the food bank at The Florrie (Pete totally nailing it with his comment, “the best thing we can do is look out for each other; I have a saying; give a shit or be a shit!”), and saving some righteous anger for an old adversary, preceding the jolly, celebratory “The Day That Margaret Thatcher Dies” with, “this is a love song because I love good people and still hate her!”

 The slow-burn, sweeping stately melancholy of “Heart As Big As Liverpool”, my overall set highlight, was dedicated by Pete to his old friend and Radio DJ Janice Long, with a genuinely affecting story about their last conversation; the tense, galloping “7 Minutes To Midnight” was about as rocking as it got tonight; then, “the moment when you realise you could have just turned up now!” arrived, with inevitable set closer “The Story Of The Blues”, a top 3 hit when that actually meant something, and a fine way to end a celebration of a quite unique, charismatic and brilliant genius. Simply superb stuff from the man.

 Grabbed a copy of that afore-mentioned “Best Of” at the merch stand, then bade farewell to Emma and Russ before hitting the road for a drizzly drive home. Really glad we were able to make it for this one, so thanks again to Emma for the spare ticket… a great night out!