1,428 SUDS, Soot Sprite, Hamburger, Bristol Louisiana, Friday 6th February 2026

 

Back on it the night after saying farewell to a beloved shoegaze/ dreampop combo in Mew, but this time out to see a band with a broadly similar sonic template, who might just be around on my “Dance Card” for a few years yet…! Logan and I had crossed swords with Norfolk’s Suds just the once before, their impressive set supporting Spanish Love Songs in Southampton in 2024 (gig 1,312) prompting comparisons with early 90’s faves Madder Rose with their blend of pastoral slow-burn ethereal stuff and more frantic, harder-edged pacey numbers, underlined on debut album “The Great Undergrowth”. Last years’ sophomore effort “Tell Me About Your Day Again” was however a more cohesive effort, a more defined shimmery dreampop sound overlaid with some well-constructed and brain-hugging tuneage, thrusting it comfortably into my Top Ten albums of 2025, and prompting me to book for the Bristol stop on their headlining tour.

I couldn’t persuade Logan to join me, however, so it was a solo trip down the M4, parking up opposite and heading in just as openers Hamburger were taking to the tiny upstairs room stage. Their set veered between quiet, slow burn introspection and more upbeat, C86 influenced jangle pop, the band’s set neatly alternating between these 2 styles! I particularly liked “Punk Rock Star”, an early faster number, and their final number, a breezy Razorcuts-esque indie gallop with ringing choral guitar licks and a “woah-oh” hook delivered in the vocalist’s distinctive falsetto. A work in progress, sure, but a pleasantly promising start. 

Took a break outside and had a chat with Suds’ imposing but friendly bass man Harry Mitchell, prompted by my overhearing that the band were staying in Swindon tonight! Back upstairs for 8.30, as main support Soot Sprite were kicking into their driving, upbeat 90’s post-grunge-tinged opener “Surprise Guilty Party”, vocalist Elise Cook already giving it full beans with a strident and powerful vocal. “All My Friends”, next up, ploughed a similar furrow, albeit in a more morose, brooding manner, and so far the set was developing nicely into a power-chord driven 90’s homage. However, “Doomed” stripped back the noise, revealing a splendid yearning and melancholy choon with a soaring chorus, the subsequent “Wield Your Hope Like A Weapon” continuing this mood, again powered  by a slightly atonal yet punchy vocal from Elise. A new guitar band with more than one string to their bow, then, Soot Sprite impressed with both their varied sonic template but also, and more importantly, with some hooky choral tuneage. I’m all about the tunes, me…

Took a step forward from my house right spot, pitching up front and centre (and prompting Soot Sprite bassist Sean Mariner to comment during our later conversation, “I saw you [do that] and thought, this guy’s going to have a good time tonight…!”) for Suds’ arrival at 9.20 in front of a full room. “We’re Suds,” announced diminutive vocalist Mae Carter, “this is our favourite city to play in!”, powering into breathless, driving opener “Paint My Body”. “Until I’m Fine”, a more angular, hazy and pastoral number touching on dreampop, followed, with bassist Harry, already working up a sweat for his art (good man!) subsequently admitting he’d nicked his stage towel from his house, so was glad his mum wasn’t here tonight! 

Veering between their various styles with effortless ease, Suds tonight delivered a splendid and captivating set where you didn’t really know what to expect next, a neat trick for a young band only on their 2nd album. “Made You Grow”’s undulating riff underpinned a dual harmony-powered pacey blast; drummer Jack Ames stepped forward for a lovely hushed duet with Mae for “Holding On”; “Heavy In The Air” was a breathless blast recalling Madder Rose’s “Live Forever”; and after 5^th member Pedro was introduced later in the set, “The Great Undergrowth” was a melodic strumalong rocker.

However, closer “Terrible Thing” was the highlight of the set for me; their “Killing Moon” or “Car Song”, its’ stately and relentless march built to a widescreen octave-straddling brain-hugger of a choral outro. A great way to end a splendid set from a band destined to become a fixture on my Dance Card. A quick (and aforementioned) chat with Soot Sprite drummer Sean saw him write me out a list (chap!), then I chatted briefly with the Suds folk, collecting scribbles on their list in the process. On my way home shortly thereafter, challenging Harry to a race back to Swindon in the process! Back about 11.30. So, fears during the day that tonight’s gig might be a case of “After The Lord Mayor’s Show”, following last night’s stellar Mew gig, were well and truly allayed. A couple of excellent performances from Soot Sprite and the very fine Suds!

1,427 MEW, The Pale White, London Camden Roundhouse, Thursday 5th February 2026

 

After Gang of Four and October Drift last year, here’s another farewell to a beloved band…

For a brief incandescent period in the early noughties, Denmark’s Mew were just about the best there was. Inveigling themselves into our listening fashion with a frankly astonishing single in “Am I Wry? No” and accompanying album “Frengers”, they owned 2003 with an unique and oft-unpigeonhole-able sound, blending elements from shoegaze, dreampop, grunge and even (hush my mouth) prog into a captivating and oft-symphonic mix, topped by vocalist Jonas Bjerre’s clear, high-register choirboy tones. Plenty of incredible gigs and another superb album followed, before they crashed and burned with their frankly awful 2009 “No More Stories” album, their hitherto delicate touch (possibly influenced by the temporary absence of bassist and fellow guiding light Johan Wohlert) instead smothered with swathes of indistinct synth noise. Johan’s return and a couple of subsequent redemptive albums mostly restored our faith, thankfully, but they’d been absent from my Dance Card since a technically-beset 2017 Trinity gig (gig 1,039). When this date was announced as part of a farewell tour, however, I wasn’t about to miss one last chance to hopefully be dazzled by my early noughties fave…

Tim was up for it too, and a couple of old gig friends booked as well, promising good company both on and off stage! Then Jonas lost his voice, prompting a postponement from the original November 2025 date to tonight, making it their actual last date! A real event in prospect then, as we headed off down a sodden M4, parking in Osterley and tubing over to Camden. Met up with old gig friend no. 1, namely Welsh Mel, for a chat and catch-up in the Enterprise pub opposite, before we entered the Roundhouse’s cavernous confines and grabbed a spot a few rows back, house right. Support The Pale White were on at 7.45; like my previous viewing on the Pixies undercard in 2024 (gig 1,318), their set was predominantly soporific and morose slo-grunge, with a couple of more driving and upbeat Foos-esque numbers to throw some sharp relief. Their closer, “Final Exit”, a melodic harmony-overlaid powerpop choon, was their best by a million miles, otherwise their enthusiastic drummer’s Animal-esque antics were once again their strongest suit… 

Took a wander around the rapidly-filling venue and met up with old gig friend no. 2; none other than 80’s friend Lester Noel! I’d seen Lest a bunch of times in the late 80’s with his splendid C86-influenced jangle pop charges North Of Cornwallis, enjoyed a letter correspondence with him (that’s how we did it back then, email kids…) and seen him out and about at a few gigs, but our paths hadn’t actually crossed for 36 years except via facebook. The years fell away as we caught up, and I was introduced to his son Callum. Made my way back over to Tim as the lights dimmed at 8.45 and Mew took the stage to a suitably elegiac opener, before the twinkling opening of “Satellite” ceded to it’s dark, pounding funk verse base and shimmering chorus, Jonas’ wide-eyed angelic tones already a feature. The angular and equally funky stomp of “Special” then segued into the herky-jerky intro to “Zookeeper’s Boy”, the storm clouds as ever parting for its majestic and soaring hook, accompanied as usual by the offbeat backdrop films featuring cracked porcelain dolls, Beatrix Potter animals and slightly macabre superimposed faces. “Tonight is our very last show,” announced Johan at its conclusion, “it’s weird but thank you for sharing it with us!”

“Sharing” seemed quite an apposite phrase; this indeed was a shared experience, the band feeding off the reverential acclaim of this devoted audience and delivering a hard-edged and muscular yet conversely deft, delicate and precise career-spanning performance. Not perfect by any means; a few numbers immediately following “Zookeepers” merged muddily into each other in a slightly unnerving throwback to that poor “No More Stories” gig in 2009 (gig 774), and throughout the gig, Jonas’ voice very occasionally sounded a little husky in the lower register, perhaps a legacy of his recent voice issues… However when Mew hit the heights tonight (which was more often than not) they recalled those dazzling “holy shit!” moments of their 2003-2006 “live” pomp. Newie (?) “Gliding” was elegiac and hymnal, returning to that delicate touch; the harsh sheet-metallic opening of “Snow Brigade” led into a cascading and thrilling tumble of sound; “Symmetry” cleared the air with a haunting and stark vocal duet between Jonas and Becky Jarrett, projected onto the backdrop screen; and whilst “Apocalypso” felt a little crushingly heavy-handed, the loud-quiet dramatics of “She Spider” built to an careering and undulating crescendo, before set closer “Rows” again built from a hushed, slow-burn opening into a soaring and stately outro. 

“[This is] our first single; everyone thought we were crazy!” announced Johan before the urgent, almost punk rock encore “I Should Have Been A Tsin-Tsi For You”, accompanied by lurid dayglo pandas on the backdrop; then the highlight of the night for me, the crashing intro to “Am I Wry? No” heralding a sweeping, stately and utterly magnificent version of Mew’s mood- and tempo-changing high watermark. Thanks and compliments from the band during the slow-burn, brooding intro to closer “Comforting Sounds”, before the song burst into life and built to a lengthy, symphonic instrumental outro, one final crashing and thrilling crescendo of noise rounding off proceedings, the band then taking a lengthy and deserved bow.

Squirmed my way to a barrier spot and was handed Johan’s setlist – a huge 4 pager! Even with the glasses, Johan…? Unsurprisingly, I was stopped multiple times on the way out by fellow punters for a pic of said manuscript, before a smoother than anticipated tube journey and thankfully unimpeded drive home (no moving roadblocks this time!) saw Tim drop me off just after 1. On reflection, and despite a few bumps in the road, this really was a special one, both on and off stage. If this is really farewell to Mew (and indications from the stage were a little contradictory at times) then this was a brilliantly apt and entirely fitting eulogy to a very beloved band. Thank you Mew, we’ll miss you!

1,426 SWINTERFEST 2026, Swindon The Hop and The Victoria, Thursday 29th and Friday 30th January 2026

 

I am resolved this year to get out more locally, take a bit more interest in the Swindon music scene, hopefully with the help of a certain reformed 90’s indie-rock rabble…! Anyway, a pretty decent opportunity to make an early start on this resolution came in the shape of Swinterfest; the brainchild of Swindon Shuffle impresario Ed Dyer, this is effectively the Shuffle’s Winter younger brother, showcasing local musical talent and raising money for the Prospect Hospice in the process. And the debut appearance at this years ‘fest of the aforementioned reformed 90’s rabble ensured a debut appearance from me as well! 

But I skip ahead; my first Swinterfesting came on Thursday evening, as I joined the early comers just after 7.45 in the upstairs room of The Hop, for some lower key acoustic shenanigans to ease myself in. As I arrived, Chippenham native MAC LLOYD was working through some 70’s inflected bluesy folk with some tape loop rhythmic backing. A vibe slightly at odds with his evident youth, he was nonetheless an engaging opener. I then ran into gig friend Jo for a catch up, before she took her floor seated spot and I squirmed forward for my reason for attendance tonight, namely FLO AND THE ESCAPE LANE, on at 8.30. Flo, daughter of course of “live” fave of mine, the excellent Nick Parker, weaved a gossamer-light set of her own compositions around the centrepiece of an excellent cover of Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work”, which positively glowed under Flo’s interpretation. Backed ably by her 2-piece band, including Nick’s partner in crime John Hare, this was a delicately delivered yet absorbing half-hour set from the odd-socked Flo, recalling the likes of Cowboy Junkies’ hushed incandescence or Madder Rose’s slower alt-country moments, and made me make a mental note to turn up early for her set supporting her dad here in March. 

Old posse mate Rog turned up so we caught up, before Ed introduced “local legends” MR. LOVE AND JUSTICE to the stage. Mainman Steve Cox, a mate of Rog’s and a veteran local musical presence, introduced, “the superannuated section of the evening; bus pass rock!” but along with his 2 equally accomplished sidekicks, delivered some highly melodic and well-constructed tuneage, variously recalling the smooth mellow 70’s vibe of Stealer’s Wheel, or the more Beatles-influenced and pastoral latter-day XTC. “Welcome To our Garden” was, oddly enough, a Rupert Lowe diss track (!) with a subtle protest undercurrent recalling Ian Prowse’s work, and closer “What If” was the most strident and rocking number of a very entertaining set, delivered with verve and humour by the gregarious Cox. The first time I’d seen this lot “live”, disgracefully, but hopefully not the last… So this took me up to just after 10, and a chat with Dubs and Paul Carter while the headliners set up. But I decided on an early night instead, so bade farewell, bumping into Rog and neighbour Steve on the way out, to end my Swinterfest Day 1!

I had company for Day 2, as Logan and boyfriend Kristian joined me for an early start to the more rock-orientated Friday programme. However we arrived at 7 to find a slight delay in proceedings, so chatted with Tim and Andy before openers SUNKATS. A group of veteran covers band musos, apparently, their stock-in-trade was more 70’s twiddly prog and 80’s proto hair metal, like ZZ Top without the beards as Andy put it! Well played, sure, but not my thing. But then my “thing” was next up… 

Happily, a decent crowd had gathered for MEZZANINE, on at 8, and Logan, Kristian and I had pitched up at the front, house left. Opener “Turn It Up” was a rampaging statement of intent, a sleazoid new wave anthem played with ferocious conviction, volume… and pace! “The Clause” was a psych/ punk collision and both “Staring At The Sun” and a later “Alien” had propulsive push’n’shove rhythmic nods to the likes of Five Thirty and even The Jam. Prior to that, “Satellite” was a swaggering Stones-like strut, and the Stone Roses backbeat of “Down By The Ocean” was excellent, the most polished and hookiest number in their current set, getting Logan and I rocking out and singing along.

“I can’t believe this is our last song already!” exclaimed an incredulous Andy before closer “Like Your Lycra”, recalling the reaction of another singer, after another superb and equally lightning-fast set, namely Stacy Jones at the end of American Hi-Fi’s Reading 2001 turn (gig 526). “Lycra” itself was a brilliant breathless power-chord propelled punk-pop punctuation point to another fine Mezzanine set, the band continuing to pick up virtually seamlessly after a 30-odd year pause from their 101 days! 

Logan and Kristian headed off then, but I was in for the long-haul tonight! Next up was CAREFUL, SPIDER, a 4-piece who came recommended by the esteemed Mr. Geoffrey Head. Their opener “The Line” was a lengthy and metronomic layered backbeat Space/ Krautrock creature, with some interesting shoegaze/ post-punk guitar overlays (I swore I heard a “She’s Lost Control” riff there briefly…!). The subsequent 2 numbers were equally spacious, meandering things, with slow-burn, almost bleak and eerie openings building to noisier crescendos, and set closer “Anomie” gained momentum and speed throughout, again building to a dramatic denouement. Intriguing stuff from a band I’d certainly check out again.

Not sure about the next 2 though; a fiddly set up involving multiple amps and banks of keys delayed the arrival of DREAMWEAPON, who arrived onstage to a stark C&W backing track extolling the virtues of Satan (!). Their oeuvre could best be described as screamo Country, which was painful on the ears for me, so after 1 number Tim and I retreated to the bar. Back in for the subsequent BOSS CLOTH, as Tim grabbed his gear and headed off, but again they weren’t my cup of tea, their heavy pounding riffs and in-your-face half growled, half rapped vocal delivery giving me serious nu-Metal/ Rage Against The Machine flashbacks. Not for me, so again I sought refuge in the bar, chatting to Beef and his mate Jaz, and then catching up with occasional gig buddy Paul from Chiseldon! 

This actually brought us up to 11 p.m. (!) and tonight’s headliners, the hotly-tipped I SEE ORANGE (Ed actually introducing them as his tip for the next band to, “break out from Swindon”!). A 3-piece fronted by Giselle, a tiny yet striking Mexican brunette who apologised for any huskiness in her voice, the legacy of a cold, she led her charges into opener “Allow Me”, an acerbic heavy yet hooky grunge-a-thon overlaid by her distinctive vocal, which veered from an atonal Sioux-alike dismissive drone to a Courtney Love scalded howl. This set the tone for a dynamic, hard-riffing set of robust 90’s post-grunge rockers, variously recalling Love’s band Hole, the smoother insouciance of Veruca Salt, and (inevitably, but as I always say, clip clops = horse) Nirvana. Giselle herself was an engaging frontperson, politely introducing each song with, “we’re going to play [this] for you now,” and explaining the premise behind most numbers. “Di Melo”, sung half-Spanish, half English, was an early highlight; newie “Obsessed” featured a hookier chorus; and whilst a couple of mid-set numbers seemingly merged into each other under all the power chords, closer “Mental Rot” was the set highlight, a sturdy Veruca Salt hooky banger with a more upbeat mood. A little musical variation might be nice, but I’m being picky here; this was a fine set played with power and purpose from a very promising band who I’d happily see again and again, and who may well prove Ed right…

That concluded Saturday’s events, so I bade farewell to all and sundry then hit the road home. Family arrangements precluded my attendance for the remainder of the weekend, but I’d seen what I wanted to, and also added a couple of extra bands to my local viewing list. So, an entirely satisfying Swinterfest for me; resolution well and truly under way!

1,425 THE SKIDS, Au Pairs, Bath Komedia, Friday 23rd January 2026

 

My old school punk rock intro to the 2026 gig year continues, with a return to the boards of my first punk rock loves The Skids! This, the 10^th time of asking but the first for just over a year (December 2024, gig 1,362) sees these veteran Scottish anthemic punkers – now down to the one original member in vocalist, lyricist and “face” of the band, the irrepressible Richard Jobson – go out on tour in celebration of their final “first time round” album, 1980’s “The Absolute Game”. Said album, the third in a shade over 18 months, saw a further progression from their savage yet hooky punk beginnings to a more stylish and expansive Berlin-era Bowie-esque soundscape, infused with a sheen as marbled and epic as its cover, and almost bridging the gap between punk and the imminent 80s New Romantic sound. “Gloss pop,” as Jobbo termed it at the time… Anyway, this tour promised an emphasis on this album and a chance to hear some lesser-played classics (one in particular which I’d been hoping to hear since The Skids returned in 2017), so bring it on… 

An added bonus was the addition to the bill of fellow veteran post punkers Au Pairs, a band who’d passed me by back in the day but whom I’d latterly come to appreciate more, so I was aiming for an early arrival. I set off at 5.45 for a chilly drive and wander along from the Podium car park, arriving just after doors and grabbing a barrier spot, house left, next to a lovely couple in fellow veteran gig-goers Nat and Mark, Nat having apparently seen The Skids first time round! The arrival of the support interrupted our gig chat, however; The Au Pairs – like the headliners tonight – are effectively the original frontperson plus a backing line-up of hired hands, but said frontperson Lesley Woods was a stylish, black clad visual focus, with the passing years imbuing her old barked, atonal vocals with a gravelly gravitas befitting their tense, often eerie and claustrophobic austere cold war post-punk material. Opener “Come Again” was a hectic, robust Gang of Four-esque chant-along, with the follow-up “Love Song” more off-kilter and rhythmic, with a haunting Patti Smith-esque mid-song break. Also, like Lydon last time out (and indeed, Jobson later this evening), Woods has surrounded herself with excellent players for this ersatz Au Pairs line up; the slow burn, sprawling menace of “Diet” and a later creepy “Headache” featured some excellent bass, and my set highlight, the funky yet prescient “Armagh” was propelled by some fine militaristic drum rolls. The urgent alarm blare and still relevant hook of “It’s Obvious” rounded out a fine support set from Woods and co; a welcome return!

A long queue for the gents (the clientele being about 95% male tonight!) before I was back in place for The Skids’ arrival at 8.30, the band plunging into strident, fist pumping opener “Happy To Be With You”, initiating the first of many terrace chant singalongs tonight. “Is this the first time The Skids have played in Bath? It was always a bit posh for us!” announced the gregarious vocalist before maintaining momentum with the slashing and undulating riffery of “Out Of Town”. “ “The Absolute Game” was [fellow Skids founder and original guitarist, the late, lamented Stuart Adamson]’s finest work with the Skids,” reflected Jobbo, spotlighting current guitarist Connor Whyte with a throwaway, “so no pressure on this guy…!” 

Jobbo was as ever his usual effusive self, regaling us with stories from those late 70’s times touring and promoting “TAG”, throwing himself around with his usual shadow-boxing abandon, and quipping, “we seem to be attracting a younger audience; that guy over there is only 57!” But for me tonight young Mr. Whyte was the MVP; the only guitarist in the current 4-piece line-up, and with obvious big boots to fill, he delivered a masterclass in intricate rock riffery, brilliantly embellishing the likes of the siren cry of “One Decree” and the stately singalong “Woman In Winter”. But it was “Goodbye Civilian”, my hoped-for number, that was my highlight, the squashy synth pulse being replaced brilliantly by Whyte’s grandiose and glorious picking.

The epic “Arena” rounded off the “TAG” homage, building to a huge crescendo outro, with Jobbo delivering his best and most commanding vocal of the night. Then a few old faves in “that U2 song!”, namely a savage “The Saints Are Coming”, the inevitable but still welcome “Into The Valley”, an uncomfortably relevant “Working For The Yankee Dollar” (Jobbo commenting “[this] means more today than when we wrote it at 16 years old”) and an unexpected encore of a pacey and ragged “Olympian” (delivered as folk were milling off following the anticipated set closer “Charles”) rounded off another fine Skids set. My promotor friend Kieran (whom I’d bumped into earlier) was roadie-ing tonight and sorted me with Jobbo’s list (hooray!), before I headed off for an early home arrival just before 11, catching up with “The Traitors” final over a late kebab tea. No treachery tonight from Jobbo and his boys, however; powered by a stellar performance from the virtuoso Whyte, they were entirely faithful to the superb “Absolute Game” album material tonight!

1,424 PUBLIC IMAGE LTD., Trampolene, Swindon The MECA, Friday 2nd January 2026

 

An early start to the 2026 Gig Year – in fact, the earliest start to any gig year ever for me – was a late call and courtesy of my old school friend Keith… I’d actually been umming and aahing about going on the night for this one anyway, a sadly rare gig at the MECA hosted by 70’s UK punk rock icon Johnny Rotten’s loose post punk collective Public Image Ltd., but more for the camaraderie than the music itself! I’d historically never been a big fan of this Rotten lot (in fact, the one time I’d seen them before – Reading Festival 1992, gig 219 – I’d walked off midway through their set, considering them old, out of date and out of touch!) but as the gig wore closer, I thought it might be a fun night out catching up with some old punk mates, plus at least I’d get to hear the seminal 70’s post-punk track “Public Image” “live”… so when Keith texted on the morning of the gig offering a free ticket, I was happy to smile and say thank you!

I offered to do the driving (least I could do, really…) and picked the man up at 7.30, parking up in a chilly Euclid Street. First surprise was that this large former Bingo hall venue was already busy, with over 1,000 advance tickets sold for a weekend gig so soon after Chrimbo. Well done Swindon! We grabbed a good viewing spot house right, about 10 rows back, with young openers Trampolene joining us spot on at 8 p.m. “It’s great to be back; Swindon’s just up the road from [their hometown] Swansea… you’re all practically Welsh!” the young, thrusting and enthusiastic singer Jack Jones proclaimed to an inevitable reception of pantomime boos, before getting the crowd back onside with a set of young, thrusting and enthusiastic gnarly, fast-paced punkish indie rock, with occasional forays into late 60’s psych-rock and 70’s glam sleaze. Lots of audience interaction from Jones, asking to swap hats with a front row punter (Jones, of course, not wearing one…) and informing us he’d already broken his New Year’s resolution (“I don’t know what it is about toilet cubicles on the M4!”). An absorbing, moody outlier “No Kisses” was my set highlight, although a singalong number about his Uncle Brian’s abattoir (!) ran it close, in an overall upbeat and well-received opening set.

We kept our spots, being joined by old Brunel face Gary and also running into mate Olly, before Public Image Ltd. took the stage dead on 9, vocalist Johnny Rotten emerging last with a sneering, deadpan, “this is PiL” before the band burst into sinister, stomping opener “Home”, Rotten’s trademark atonal, strident yelping vocals already competing for sonic attention with some excellent resonant post-punk guitar licks from veteran punk axeman and Catweazle clone Lu Edmonds. “Know How”, a punkier blast with Rotten’s vocals delving into stream of consciousness garbling territory, was then followed by the vocalist enquiring, “would you like some more?”, responding to the inevitable cheers with a mock-contemptuous, “cunts!” 

For all his chaotic divisiveness and polarising personality (indeed, another reason why I’d baulked on getting tix for tonight was his recent pro-Trump proclamations, but I ultimately decided to separate the artist from the art; and thankfully, one snidey Starmer comment aside, he kept off the political soapbox tonight), Rotten is a punk rock survivor who knows how to surround himself with a quite excellent band. So even during the songs I found frankly dirgelike (and there were quite a few) in this often freeform, variable set which mixed the brilliant with the banal, I could appreciate some excellent musicianship. Edmonds again took centre stage for the sinister march and descending hook of “This Is Not A Love Song”; strong-armed drummer Mark Roberts provided some strident tribal beats for the excellent, Eastern-tinged “Flowers Of Romance”, and of course that bassline intro, one of the most recognisable in all of rock, was delivered perfectly by bassist Scott Firth for the highlight of the night, the brilliantly hurtling first encore “Public Image”. And throughout it all, Rotten was, well, himself… fixed and dismissive wide-eyed stare, discordant caterwauling vocals, yet commanding the attention; “this is PiL; members come, members go, [but] no fucking surrender!”

Whilst “PI” was my best-of tonight, the subsequent “Rise” ran it close; freeform, bass-heavy and almost dub-like, with the be-suited Rotten, conducting the crowd singalong to the “anger is an energy” hook from his lectern, looking for all the world like a preacher! A savage medley (!) of 3 early “Metal Box” numbers (the “punk rock kill hate” hook of the “Chant” section taking me back to my punk rock St. Marks rec Summer of 1981) closed proceedings, Rotten and the band taking a bow and the singer proclaiming Swindon, “the best fucking crowd so far… Merry New Year, now fuck off you cunts!” So we did, home just after 11. Thanks again Keith, a splendid night both on and off stage; some troughs for this one but plenty of peaks too, and overall a much better showing than I’d feared. Merry (and Rotten) New Year to you too, Public Image Ltd.!