1,423 GAZ BROOKFIELD AND THE COMPANY OF THIEVES, The Wilswood Buoys, Bristol Fleece, Saturday 20th December 2025

 

If 2 Stuffies Xmas gigs in consecutive years counts as a burgeoning tradition, then this one, rounding off my 2025 Gig Year, is definitely a well-established one! For the 5^th year in a row, and 8^th overall of the 14 occasions it’s apparently been held, I’m off to the Fleece for “The Bard Of Purton”, West Country boy and edgy confessional folk-inflected troubadour Gaz Brookfield’s annual Chrimbo “do”, or the “AGM of Lovely People” as he terms it! This year was actually a late call – since my recent retirement I’ve been choosier about which gigs to book, so deliberately sat and watched Gaz’ (my most-seen “live” act, of course) recent Swindon gig sell out – but friend and “Shiiine On” companion Matt had grabbed himself a ticket for this one, and everybody else in the house was out (Rach and Jami at a London Matinee show, Logan on his works Xmas “do”), so I thought, “why not”, grabbing a ticket before this, too, sold out.

A trundle down the M4 got me parked just before 7, having to download an app to park behind the Fleece, then meeting Matt and wandering into the Seven Stars for a pre-gig catch-up. So by the time we wandered in at 10 to 8, the place was already full and the folky support duo Wilswood Buoys were rounding off their opening set. They were pleasant enough at the “Swindon Shuffle” recently (gig 1,401) and the couple of numbers we did catch were okay too, “Moving Away” a jolly ditty about losing a mate to a relationship (!) and set closer “Save The Queen” (about a drinking game, allegedly!) featuring some intricate guitar plucking and a singalong chorus.

We squeezed forward to a decent viewing spot a couple of rows back, house right, then Gaz and the boys took the stage prompt at 8.30 to the strains of a church choir singing Christmas hosannas, Gaz immediately kicking into “RIP Inner Me”, a nonetheless jaunty newie from recent, rather Gaz-by-numbers release “Waiting For Wisdom” (which if I’m being brutally honest, hasn’t really made too much of an impression on me on initial listens), lamenting the changes which accompany getting older. “Loud And Clear” was however much more like it, a brisk, rocking anthem and an early highlight, Gaz exhorting the slightly hesitant crowd to, “move forward; I promise I won’t spit Lucozade on you!” 

The Lucozade seemed to be out of necessity rather than preference, with Gaz initially quite croaky in his vocal delivery, and making increasing recourse to said bottle by his feet during the initial stages of this set. Despite this, he was his usual enthusiastic self, backed up ably as ever by the folksy ramshackle delivery of The Company Of Thieves, and consequently the new material in particular made much more sense “live”. After a fine early “IOU” which featured some excellent keyboard work from the esteemed Mr. Jon Buckett and some lovely outro audience harmonising, “Caravan Bingo” was excellent, preceded by a lengthy exposition as to its subject matter, and a later “Dance Of Ned Fallor” was an acerbic yet entertaining diss track to “those robbing bastards!” the Swindon Ford car dealership Allen Ford (note the anagram!). However the subsequent “Afterthought”, preceded by a heartfelt message about mental health, was powerful, purposeful and almost punk rock in its frantic delivery, and the highlight of the night for me.

After a poignant “Getting Drunk For Christmas”, a tribute to Gaz’ old Vic mate Jock, the singer suggested, “let’s raise the mood a little; here’s a song about a dead soldier!”, the subsequent “Tale Of Gunner Haines” not only raising the mood but the roof with a huge singalong. Old frantic fiddly-diddly favourites “Diabetes Blues” and “I’ve Paid My Money” kept the party mood high before one final newie, the reflective title track “Waiting For Wisdom”, featuring the Wilswood Buoys on a doctored £20 glockenspiel! With time running short, Gaz eschewed the encore pantomime and powered through with singalongs to “Land Pirate’s Life”, “Bigger Man”, and finally the “West Country Song”, rounding off another fun and singalong Gaz Fleece Christmas party. I bade farewell to Matt and simultaneously bumped into old school friend Nicky, so after being rather unceremoniously moved out by what I considered at the time to be overzealous and borderline rude stewards (but which, I subsequently found out, were acting quickly to clear the venue due to a medical emergency), Nicky, her friend and I hit the Seven Stars for a catch up, before I headed off at 11, home at midnight with a Jimmy’s Kebab (another tradition!) in tow. Happy that I did make the late call on this, a fine way to see out the 2025 Gig Year with a West Country Christmas celebration!

1,422 THE WONDER STUFF, Vent 414, London Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Friday 19th December 2025

Is it a tradition if it’s only happened 2 years on the trot? Um, let’s say yes, it is… flippant 90’s Indie rock legends and “live” staples of mine, The Wonder Stuff, were again sadly absent from last month’s “Shiiine On” bill, main-man Miles Hunt instead flying solo at the Festy he’s largely made his own. If I were to get my Stuffies “live” fix in 2025, then, it would mean a repeat of last year (gig 1,364) and another Xmas Getaway Friday trip up the Smoke to Shepherd’s Bush Empire, the nearest a small 3-date Stuffies “live” Chrimbo jaunt came to the ‘don. So I sorted tix for this one, being joined by wingmen Rich and Tim, Tim’s company tonight being largely secured due to Miles announcement that Vent 414, his post-Stuffies edgier and shoutier 90’s US alt-rock inspired project, would support, in advance of new Vent material next year! 

Given last year’s 3 hour+ journey plus horror stories of 26 million extra cars expected on UK roads today, we set off just after 4. However, our journey was instead astonishingly quick, getting street parked up near Bush Hall at 6.15! After a wait until parking restrictions lifted and a KFC tea for the boys, we hit the quiet early doors venue at 7.20, with Milo leading his Vent 414 comrades – old Senseless Things bassist Morgan Nicholls and Pete Howard, ex-Clash/ Eat man and current incumbent of the Stuffies drum stool – on at 8.05, remarking, “it’s been 29 years since the 3 of us were on stage together!” I wasn’t much of a fan of Vent back then, which was a little harsh… they weren’t the Wonder Stuff and never purported to be, so it was a bit unfair of me to compare! I was therefore more receptive to the Stuffies “evil twin” this time around, enjoying the hard-hitting rock beats of opener “Laying Down With”, and particularly the off-kilter, almost Eastern flavoured intro and yearning, pseudo-anthemic hook of “flop” single “Fixer”, which was actually rather tremendous. The newer numbers in this 7-song vignette mined the same vein; drum-dominated, darker, more aggressive and propulsive, with sinister and dramatic bass flourishes from the accomplished Nicholls. That said, I wasn’t a fan of the dour and repetitive closer “Lucinda Comes In Many Colours”, but overall Vent were better than I’d anticipated and (slightly) feared. Tim loved them though, so that worked!

The floor was suddenly rammed after Vent, though, feeling more like the “sold out” gig it was, with “quick” loo trips somewhat of an oxymoron, although not as bad as Stereolab last week… Still, we were glad for 9.10 to roll around and The Stuffies to take the stage, bounding into a boisterous “Red Berry Joy Town” but hitting some feedback at its’ conclusion, Miles murmuring, “looks like we’ve got a technical problem already; Erica, we might be back on the acoustic circuit!” Nonetheless, “On The Ropes”, next up, got me breaking my pre-gig no-mosh assertion and joining the ebullient yet largely good-natured singalong mosh, particularly with Miles requesting “a little extra [singing along] as we’re recording this for a live album!”

So this was once again an inclusive, immersive set of largely familiar singalong indie bangers from the canon of this beloved band, delivered with accomplished ease (once the techy gremlins were quickly chased!) by this excellent current line-up. That said, after a brilliant early set section including a poignant “Piece Of Sky”, a rampaging “No For The 13^th Time” (which even prompted Miles to comment, “fucking ridiculous!”) and an evocative “Caught In My Shadow”, the set, for me at least, hit an ever-so slight lull in the middle, the touching tears-in-the-Guiness folky Irish lament “Sing The Absurd” notwithstanding. However, I’m being really nit-picky here, judging them against their own recent stratospheric “live” standards, and honestly, by the tremendous virtuoso fiddle-led “Here Come Everyone” (Miles announcing “we’re onto the home straight – it’s going to get very messy from here!”) normal service was restored and I was back in the beaming mosh for this set highlight, Miles remarking, “you fucking beauties!” at its’ conclusion. 

“Size Of A Cow”, “Don’t Let Me Down” and “Unbearable” were inclusive raucous anthemic singalongs, leading to set closer “Give Give Give”, Miles conducting the audience in the hook singalong as the band left the stage. A 3 song encore of a rollicking “Can’t Shape Up”, the unexpected hurtling luge ride of “Poison” and the usual thunderous stomp of “Ten Trenches Deep” closed proceedings; a quick list then we hit the road, grabbing a Tesco meal deal on the way. However we weren’t as fortunate on the journey home; if a circuitous SatNav route through 20 mph-restricted Chiswick wasn’t enough, a 7 mile “Convoy Vehicle – Do Not Pass” blockade travelling at 10 mph between Maidenhead and Reading added much frustration and 45 minutes to our journey home, my eventually dropping Rich off at 1.15. Bah! Still, that was pretty much the only real blot on another excellent Stuffies night out. Same time again next year? Then it will be a tradition!

1,421 STEREOLAB, Mombojo, Oxford O2 Academy, Saturday 13th December 2025

 

This was pretty much Logan’s shout, and actually mainly thanks to the film “High Fidelity”… after “discovering” this film a couple of years ago, Logan obsessed over its’ soundtrack, which included left field, avant garde 90’s indiepop band Stereolab’s “Lo Moob Oscillator”, so when “The Groop” (as they were known in their heyday) announced a post-hiatus tour and new album (apparently their first in 15 years), we sorted ourselves out for both! I liked them fine back in the day, saw them once in their own right in 1994 (gig 279), but was never a huge fan. Their keyboard led metronomic sonic template was very particular and idiosyncratic, evoking either 60’s Sci-Fi soundtracks and transmissions from the outer limits, or alternatively, sun-dappled Parisienne balconies and alleyways, and 60’s French language B Movies portraying impossibly beautiful mademoiselles in severe black bobs, skimpy black negligees and tear-smudged mascara hurling pillows and abuse across high-ceilinged bedrooms at unshaven men in unkempt suits who just shrug, take a drag of their Gauloise and pour themselves another Pernod… Erm, sorry, that was quite the tangent… anyway, I liked bits and bobs, but was happy to indulge Logan in checking them out “live”.

Given it was the weekend, Logan’s boyfriend Kristian was persuaded to join us for his first actual gig ever! We set off at ¼ to 5, waiting 10 minutes in that difficult Tesco car park but ultimately getting a spot, then going for a pre-gig Chinese in the recently renovated Rice Box, where I’d taken Jami before the Front Bottoms gig (gig 1,308)! In about 10 to 7, grabbing a barrier down the front, extreme house left, but breaking to chat with Keeley guitarist Lukey and his mate! Support Mombojo were on prompt at 7.30; a Brazilian collective, their metronomic rhythm suggested a World Music version of Stereolab, albeit funkier, more jazz-like freeform and less cohesive than their obvious idols. Buoyed to simply be here, they weren’t my cup of Brazilian coffee but were entertaining enough, with the last couple of numbers – a more impassioned one with “woah-oh” choral hook and a pan pipes-like synth refrain, then a final melange of almost early Human League staccato synth rhythm merging into a wah-wah-led punky outro! – their best ones for me. 

A quick loo trip in this horribly-laid out venue, annoying a few folks in this sold-out crowd as I navigated my way back, before the undulating synth pattern of new album opener “Mystical Plosives” heralded Stereolab onstage at 8.30. The smooth melody and harmony of newie “Aerial Troubles” kicked into gear, powered by the synth rhythms of keyboardist Joe Watson, who appeared to be sat behind the controls of the Starship Enterprise (!), and the still-statuesque vocalist Laetitia Sadier’s hazily drifting vocal overlays. Sadier fended off cries for “French Disko” (my fave ‘lab number, sadly absent tonight) with a severe, “don’t start!” before the languid lounge music of “Transmuted Matter” (“where you take shit and turn it into gold..” informed Sadier) then segued into a brilliant, harder-edged “Peng 33”, racey, punky and ultimately my set highlight.

The Groop were on fine form tonight, switching between those retro sci-fi and French B Movie vibes with effortless ease, and delivering a much more dynamic and upbeat set than I expected. Sadier was also a surprisingly effective frontperson, handling some technical gremlins with patience and grace (“I don’t know what’s going on tonight…who did that?”), augmenting her languid tones with some startling trombone (!), and commenting on the state of the world with, “capitalism is a wound, which leads to fascism is a wound… but all wounds can heal…” before the lengthy mid-set focal point of “Melodie Is A Wound”, its’ groovy pastoral opening speeding up towards a punkier outro, the song then collapsing in on itself before reconstituting into another savage clattering crescendo! The 2 parts of the subsequent “If You Remember I Forgot How To Dream” were bouncy Eurodisko and eerie pulsing pseudo-goth in equal measure, before da ‘lab hit the Parisienne vibes again for a fine, dreampoppy “Miss Modular”. 

“Ectoplasmic Creeping Eruption” (their song titles actually say more about the band than I ever could!) was a crazy Sci-fi transmission with a groovy outro degenerating into a weird noise fest, Logan and I commenting that “live”, this lot often seem to just enjoy making odd noises in their songs for shits and giggles! Then the coruscating synth riff of “Electrified Teenybop” was an excellent set closer, a weirdly anthemic instrumental recalling The Colourbox World Cup Theme for me. A 2 song encore culminating in a groovy “Cybelle’s Reverie” and profuse thanks and a cry of “Fuck the patriarchy!” from Sadier (before checking with the blokes present if we’re cool with it… yup, we are!) rounded off an overall entertaining and much better than expected set. Grabbed a list before the drive home got us back in the ‘don for 11.30. Welcome back Stereolab; happy to have you back on this form, and by the way… great shout Logan!

1,420 MEZZANINE, Ursa Way, Swindon The Victoria, Thursday 11th December 2025

 

Before Abstraction Engine, before Raze* Rebuild, before Nudy Bronque, The Shudders, even You Are Here, there was 101… The first “local” band (i.e. from Swindon, unsigned and largely plying their trade around the pubs and occasionally clubs of the town) that I properly took notice of – indeed the first such band to merit a gig blog entry in their own right! – 101 were a post-grungy mix of strident guitar noise, quiet/ loud Pixies-ish dynamics and a clutch of fine hooks to boot, more than enough to attract me along to attend a half dozen of their mid-90’s sets. The fact that my close friend (and subsequent Best Man at mine and Rachel’s wedding) Tim strummed the low notes for the band was an added bonus! Their journey however came to an end in Autumn 1997 (gig 362), vocalist/ guitarist and songwriter Andy Ashley deciding to “give it a rest”, with the loose intention of reviving the band under a new guise in future. Didn’t think it would take 28 years and an apparent chance meeting between Andy and Tim in a field (!) for this to happen, but still…

A few rehearsals and one false start later, the band – now rebadged as Mezzanine – were finally ready for launch, booking their first gig “proper” (one run-through in Andy’s barn notwithstanding!) at the Vic on a dank and drizzly Thursday. So I drove up the hill and hit the venue about ¼ to 8, meeting Tim plus the boys from his “other” band The Shudders, who’d turned up for moral support. Renewed acquaintances with Andy and met drummer Simon, who’d apparently also drummed for The Dollyrots (although not at that landmark BFS support gig in 2016, gig 974 and Logan’s first gig!). This took us to 8.30 and openers Ursa Way; their first gig as well, apparently, this painfully young bunch were billed as Britpop-inspired, and their material reflected this, with a couple of dull Oasis plodders for starters before a better and more upbeat “Chasing The Sun”. Fair play to them for giving it a go as a band, as Shudders drummer Jim noted, but they lost several points for me due to their “Swindon Shit-town”, which seemed unnecessarily white-privilege whiney. Guys, if you don’t like your town, do something about it, create a scene, whatever, don’t just moan about it!

Anyway, they and many of their college mates laudably stuck around for Mezzanine, as did the Shudders guys plus Tim’s sister Michelle and her mates, arriving just on the witching hour of 9.30. So a hardy score or so welcomed opener “Turn It Up”, a startling sleazoid opener with an almost Cramps/ Iggy/ 70’s NYC growling primitive punk hook, setting the tone for this early set selection. “Staring At The Sun” was an early highlight for me, almost Doors-like albeit through a slight 80’s Goth filter, before a muffled weird radio transmission heralded 101 oldie “Freon 5”, the slow-burn intro build to a riff-heavy, grungy crescendo more how I’d remembered 101’s musical template, Andy’s comment of, “we used to play together back in the day a bit,” referencing those times. 

So, a slight departure/ development of the band’s sound to these ears at least, perhaps, but this was still a dynamic, hard-edged yet tuneful alt-rock set as expected, delivered with the hoped-for power and purpose of old, and also a surprising level of cohesion, if their claims of only having practised a couple of times this year (!) was anything to go by. A shout out from Andy to follow them on the usual socials (which clearly worked, given that their facebook following subsequently rocketed up from single figures to 32!) preceded the massive chorus of oldie “Alien”; “Down By The Ocean” was the poppiest number of the night, featuring an almost “I Am The Resurrection” drumbeat and a particularly strident vocal from Andy; and after an unplanned, herky jerky “Aspirin”, the heavily reworked best number “Lycra” (formerly “Like Your…”) was tremendous, a rampant four-to-the-floor powerpop anthem and a serious contender for my top track of 2025 (oh yes!), closing out a splendid, well rocking 40 minutes.

So, overall a triumphant return for these 90’s favourites in their new identity. Chats and compliments afterwards before I hit the road, promising to return for more Mezzanine shenanigans in the new year – their appearance at January’s SwinterFest at the Vic, for starters! After sadly waving goodbye to a “live” staple in October Drift last time out (gig 1,319), the return of this old favourite to my gig itinerary, albeit under a new guise and slightly different sonic template, is very much a development to be welcomed. Happy to have you back, chaps!

1,419 OCTOBER DRIFT, October Drift (!), London Highbury Garage, Tuesday 2nd December 2025

 

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened…

After 10 years, 3 albums (including my currently reigning Album of the Year in 2024’s “Blame The Young”) and 8-so-far (for me) gigs varying from introspective record store strumalongs to thrilling in-your-face anthemic rock of the highest order, Taunton’s post-punk rabble October Drift – one of the most incendiary, dynamic and kinetic “live” acts of recent times… actually, make that ever – have sadly decided to bring their decade-long odyssey to a close. They announced 3 gigs as a celebratory punctuation point on proceedings, so of course I had to be at one of them! Their Bristol Thekla date however sadly clashed with my previously-booked MBV shlep (in hindsight, I wish I’d blown them off for OD on the “Dirty Boat” – my mate Matt was there and his dual reaction was, “insane,” and “my gig of the year”), so instead I booked for the actual final date, at Highbury’s Garage, scene of a previous final act from one of my beloved 90’s bands, The Heart Throbs, back in 1993 (gig 257). 

Cognisant of getting done speeding a bit too frequently of late, I left at 3 (!), a steady drive getting me parked in Osterley and over to the Garage an hour before doors. A queue had already formed so I decided to put in the time and join it, a correct decision (despite a late sprinkling of rain) which pitched me up on the barrier on entry, house left in front of the speakers, and next to John, a guy I’d chatted with at the Rialto Scala gig in May (gig 1,384). Much rock chat with this knowledgeable gent passed time until Kiran and Chris took the stage at 7.30, Chris, clearly taken aback, uttering, “there’s quite a lot of you here!” then informing us that this gig was a “strange redemption moment” following their worst ever gig, here upstairs! A few acoustic numbers for starters then, Kiran providing the understated guitar embellishment for their intertwining vocals, with “Lost Without You”, shorn of the guitar assault and with Chris harmonising the guitar line, morphing into a heartbreaking lover’s lament, rightfully getting a riotous reception. Subsequent numbers trod the same path, the absence of volume shining a stark light on the morose and melancholy beauty of the material, with one deep cut oldie, “Still” (“no-one asked for it but we’re playing it anyway!”) almost Leonard Cohen-like in it's disconsolate wallow. “I Don’t Belong Anywhere” saw Chris hold a lengthy outro note, eliciting a, “nice pipes!” compliment from Kiran, and “Naked”, apparently the band’s almost-break-up song, saw some startlingly powerful harmonies from the boys, rounding off this opening palate cleanser. “Back in half an hour,” promised the drummer, prophesying this was just the calm before the storm…

The half an hour passed, the place got really busy down the front, then the symphonic strains of the stately opening riff to “Demons” played over the PA, the boys then taking the stage, sprinting into the track right out of the traps with their usual clear-eyed conviction and bottomless energy. And. It. Sounded. MASSIVE! Everest massive – no, make that Olympus Mons massive, thunderous and awesome. I’d earlier briefly run into Indoor Pets man James, again doing the sound tonight, and it seemed on this evidence he’d gotten the easiest job of the night. Just turn everything up to 11… then turn it up some more! 

That said, and despite a couple of occasions where, due to my proximity to the hanging speakers, Kiran’s voice was occasionally lost in the avalanche of guitar, this wasn’t MBV stupid. Nope, this was just a fucking stridently loud rock show, matched in no small part by the October Drift boys, who were leaving nothing on the table with their performance, aware that this was the last one and determined to leave on the highest of highs. And this was reciprocated by the crowd tonight, going batshit crazy in an expanding mosh, greeting every number with exultation, holding the boys aloft during their frequent forays offstage to crowdsurf (yup, every single one of the band – the stewards in the photo pit were pretty busy tonight, what with these band excursions and the equally frequent crowdsurfers launching into the pit!), and generally making this one of those nights where the join between band and crowd was pretty much indiscernible, feeding off each other and creating one huge seething and celebratory mass revelling in the joy of “live” music. I’ve diverted from my usual write-up habit of picking out individual tracks thus far because it really didn’t matter, every song was a winner, widescreen, huge and skyscrapingly anthemic (although Kiran’s crowdsurf during a cacophonous opening to a brilliantly building “Blame The Young” was a particular highlight for me, also eliciting a, “fucking hell!” response from drummer Chris). 

“This has been the honour of my life! Thank you so much for supporting us over this 10 years!” acclaimed an incredulous Kiran before the slow-burn opening bars and pregnant pause before the launch into “Forever Whatever” heralded the denouement; the ticking intro of “Oh The Silence” melted into a wallowing yet anthemic “Not Running Anymore”, a fitting conclusion to the rock, the boys gathering together for a well-deserved curtain call bow. But this story could only end one way… 

“That was fucking something else; you mad mad bastards!” exclaimed Chris before he, brandishing a mean tambourine, led Kiran into the centre of the floor to deliver October Drift’s epitaph, a reverentially received “Like The Snow We Fall”, the crowd singing along in hushed tones before Chris asked for volume for the repetitive outro hook, thereafter raising the roof. And then it was over.

I gathered my thoughts as the crowd, stunned, came to terms with the enormity of what they’d witnessed; a brief chat with James, then a catch up with Kiran and Chris, again sharing news from home with a caring drummer. Fond farewells before I crossed town, then a careful drive home got me back just after 1 a.m. As with the Gang Of Four finale on my birthday (gig 1,393), if this is truly goodbye, then October Drift have left us on the highest of high notes. Best wishes, gentlemen, we’ll miss you!