David Rose's Gig Diaries

840 NADA SURF, Waters, London Camden Koko, Wednesday 8 February 2012

2012-02-09T19:59:00.001Z

I’ve said it before and this year it bears repeating, particularly with my new car making me paranoid to park anywhere that isn’t totally locked down; it takes a VERY special band to drag me up to London , especially on a school night. However Nada Surf fall squarely into that category; in fact they probably stack up right at the top right now! Nearly 4 years since my last “live” Surf experience, they’re back with what might be their best album yet, in the wonderful and magical “The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy”. Bucking their recent headlong descent towards slow-burn and introspective hush, evidenced in their last 2 albums, this one actually features some startling rock guitar! Galloping fast songs! Power and pace, even! However this augments rather than detracts from their stark, touching and lovelorn songcraft, and deliciously warm and confessional delivery, producing what is easily an Album Of The Year favourite for 2012, and honestly a real masterpiece for the ages. In fact, I spent a lunchtime last week listening to it and a colleague, returning from lunch, took a look at me and asked me if I’d been crying. This is evidently the profound emotional effect that this album has on me. I’m utterly lost in this album, and right now this band says everything to me about my life. However, this being the first time I’ve been to KOKO, I was unsure about local street parking; Camden Car Parks all seem to shut early; and other nearby NCPs charge £8 an hour! Fuck that! So after an early departure and a quick run, I parked the new car nervously in my usual spot in an eerily quiet Bush, having an easy but freezy tube trip over to Mornington Crescent , and hitting the venue at 7.30. A wonderfully ornate red-lit venue with lots of gold leaf carvings and plenty of viewing balconies, like a mini Shepherd’s Bush Empire, only far grander. I explored the various levels before support Waters sneaked on at 7.50. A young San Franciscan 4-piece, they played some diverting chunky and resonant indie power pop to evidently their biggest ever audience, with one racy number “Back To You” and the blond vocalist’s evident effort and enthusiasm a feature. The final number, an anthemic “Forever”, saw him step away from the mic and give an “unplugged” performance, after coaching the audience to sing the hook! Shades of the Gaslight Anthem from this young band, in a good opening set. Stayed down in the front rows, stage right, as the lights dimmed at 8.50 and Da Surf sauntered casually onstage. A 5-piece Surf line-up, this, with the usual trio of mainman Matt Caws, the sumptuously dreadlocked Daniel Lorca and drummer Ira Elliot augmented, “live” as on record, by Guided By Voices’ guitarist Doug Gillard and Calexico’s talented multi-instrumentalist Martin Wenk, to give the punch this robust new material deserves and needs. And this was evident from the outset, with the new CD’s devastating one-two opening combo “Clear Eye Clouded Mind” and “Waiting For Something” opening the set. That was it, I was bouncing around like a loon from note one, and had navigated my way through to front centre, by the time the heady rush of third number “Happy Kid” assailed the ears of this old punk. This was a wonderfully paced, joyful set of high-end punchy powerpop and warm, touching honest rock from Da Surf, with light and shade aplenty to delight and beguile. “Killians Red”, joyfully dark and morose, was followed in short order by silky and harmonic newie “Jules And Jim”, which featured a smooth, wide-eyed delivery from Matt’s familiar vocal tones and some rocking xylophone from Wenk, prompting some wag down the front (OK, it was me…) to shout out, “well, that was bloody lovely!”, and eliciting a, “why thank you, Sir!” response from Mr. Caws. A ferocious “The Way You Wear Your Head” was followed by the plangent magnificence that is always “80 Windows”, Wenk also embellishing this all-time classic with some understated trumpet. Da Surf were really cooking with gas in this set mid-section! The stomping “High Speed Soul” was messy and discordant, but actually seemed all the more fun for this rough-housing, before a mesmerising “See These Bones”, building to a gloriously heartfelt cacophony, like warm waves crashing over myself and the audience, rounded off a quite perfect set. A naked “Blonde On Blonde” preceded Matt, as ever a personable and gregarious presence throughout, telling us a story of his father’s flight from a cult and his subsequent struggle to stay in touch with relatives, which enabled Matt to introduce some of them onstage. “Don’t give up on what you believe in,” was Matt’s lesson, one well learned. The bouncy final number “Looking Through” brought a swift and magical 1 ½ hour set to a close, and as the band left the stage I caught Daniel’s attention and he handed me Matt’s set-list and took one of my gig blog cards. Fair swap! Caught my breath after a majestic performance from da Surf, chatting with some similarly supremely entertained fellow punters, before waiting at Mornington Crescent for the tube train that seemingly never came, nevertheless getting back to the car at 11.30 and home for 1. A late late one these days, then, but completely justified by a heart-felt, melancholy, yet uplifting and triumphant performance from a truly great band completely at the height of their powers.

839 THE BOOMTOWN RATS, Swindon Musical Entertainment and Cultural Arena (MECA), Saturday 28 January 2012

2012-01-30T17:52:00.000Z

From a very new band last time out (Howler) to a really old one; The Boomtown Rats, 70’s Irish pub rock imports turned skinny-tie New Wave chart botherers and No. 1 hit-makers with “Rat Trap” and their signature classic “I Don’t Like Mondays”. In my formative musical years I’d been a mini Rat-fan (I still remember hearing the drum-powered adrenaline rush of their debut “Looking After Number One” on the radio for the first time; one of my favourite photos of myself is as a 15 year old on holiday in Jersey, sporting a huge metallic “Rats” badge; and I still own their fine sophomore effort, “Tonic For The Troops” on vinyl), but in my post-punk rockist early 80’s discovery period I’d lost interest with the Rats long before their charismatic original vocalist Bob Geldof did the same, Bob instead concentrating on saving the world with Live Aid. This reformed Rats line-up therefore was more an “Ex Simple Minds” formation, featuring two original band members, guitarist Garry Roberts and drummer Simon Crowe, but shorn of “Sir” Bob’s towering presence. But recent similar gigs (Thin Lizzy, Big Country, even the aforementioned Ex-Minds) had worked out well, plus it’s just up the MECA, and if nothing else, it’d be fun to hear those songs “live”, so why not? However, when I arrived at the venue at 7 (½ hour before their advertised onstage time of 7.30 as support to a T Rex line-up) it felt I was the only one who thought that! Around 50 or so punters – mainly older couples – huddled around the back bar, and the main hall was still cordoned off! Yipe! Organiser Steve Causer’s going to take a bath on this one, I thought… The ropes came off about 7.30 and I wandered down the front as the place slowly filled up to a respectable level, for an early Swindon crowd… The 4-piece Rats hit the dry-ice shrouded stage at 7.45, the thick-set monolith guitarist Roberts and beefy drummer Crowe augmented by a ratty-looking (appropriately enough) vertical-haired vocalist/bassist of similar vintage, ironically also called Bob (“we call him Little Bob,” Crowe informed us at one point) plus a young gun on extra guitar. Opener “Mary Of The Fourth Form” chuntered along well, but sounded a little like muddy old lag pub rock, and I thought at this point this gig might have gone down better at the Furnace! It took until 4th number, a sing-along-tastic “Someone’s Looking At You”, to really get this thus-far turgid set going for me, this being a tremendous version of one of their more overlooked numbers. “Most of our songs are about death, and this is no exception…” said Roberts before the tango beat of “Diamond Smiles”, followed by a fine mid-set double of “Number One” (which required drummer Crowe to catch his breath afterwards!) and the jerky Wire-like “Like Clockwork”. A Dr. Feelgood homage revealed their pub rock roots, but was a murky bluesy rant, featuring a raspy lead vocal from Crowe, and I lamented the omission of the epic “(I Never Loved) Eva Braun” from the set at the expense of this. However they finished strongly, with a real crowd-pleasing final salvo of their angry, sprawling working class manifesto “Rat Trap”, their “Common People” of the late 70’s; the terrace chant punk pogo of “She’s So Modern”; and finally a “rock” version of “I Don’t Like Mondays”, which still stood up well shorn of the distinctive piano treatment, and finally got Swindon singing along, the resounding and elongated final hook echoing around the venue. So, overall an uneven (as I expected) but worthwhile show, and yes it was fun to hear those songs “live”! I grabbed a set-list, then hung out briefly afterwards, catching drummer Crowe as he briefly poked his head out from backstage to greet some friends, and getting him to sign said list. Then, with utterly no interest in “headliners” T Rex whatsoever, I headed home for one of the earliest home arrivals from an evening gig ever – 9.30!

838 HOWLER, Man Made, Tiny Telephone Exchange, Six Minutes To Sunrise, Southampton Joiner's Arms, Wednesday 25 January 2012

2012-01-26T22:11:00.001Z

I need to thank the NME for this lot. Struggling for a reliable outlet to discover new bands (a recent Dara O’Braian TV stand-up performance made reference to new parents having to give up “New Music,” and I empathise with that!), I jumped all over their recent “100 New Bands For 2012” issue, figuring at least one potentially exciting new band might be worth the price. I’m always looking for the next new band to blow my socks off, me! Howler were in fact the lead band, 19 year old vocalist Jordan Gatesmith sporting a cut-off New York Mets t-shirt, which, along with a good write-up, their home town being Minneapolis (home of Husker Du and the Hold Steady) and a snatched Youtube song, “Back Of Your Neck”, persuaded me to book tix for this gig. On lesser things, however, are dynasties built… A hasty acquisition of their debut, “America Give Up”, reinforced this positive and promising view, but where I heard potentially thrilling crunchy guitar and swaggering new wave melody in a Replacements meets Modern Lovers vein, Rachel heard, “same old, same old”. So I headed down to the Joiners on my own, again glorying in how close Southampton is, and parking up in a handy (and free!) car park behind the easy-to-find venue. Only caught the last 2 numbers of openers Six Minutes To Sunrise, which was unfortunate as one was a fragile post-recovery number about the stylishly black shirted and red-tied vocalist’s recent serious illness, and the other a chunkier and more robust indie rocker. Certainly better than Tiny Telephone Exchange; another smartly dressed bunch, but purveyors of an interminable and primitive blues jam howl, with the floppy fringed Ben Kweller lookalike vocalist screaming unintelligibly throughout. They no doubt believe they’re “psychedelic”, but they were just a godawful racket. Julian Cope would probably love them. Dumped merch back in the car just to escape the noise awhile, and compared survivors’ notes with SMTS’ affable vocalist outside instead. I overheard an excellent snippet of conversation (girl; “who writes their (TTE’s) lyrics?”: boyfriend ;“what lyrics?”) whilst wandering back through for main support Man Made at 9.30, following a fiddly soundcheck. He underlined the favourable impression forged by his Buffalo Tom support last year; rocking a spangly gold jacket this time, instead of the green and black jumper of my youth, his earnest set of haunting, slightly US alt-rock influenced angst was effects-pedal propelled and mighty fine, and featured plaintive keening vocals reminiscent of Placebo’s Brian Molko. A cynical and wilful attitude too (“I’m going to play a couple more songs then you can go back to enjoying your evening”!), but another good set. I stayed down the front against the monitors, stage left – a pocket of space in this crammed little venue! – for Howler’s entrance at 10.30. Led by Gatesmith, an angular black leather clad spider-plant of a man-child, like a stretched “Saint Julian”-era Cope with a floppier fringe and a more laconic, Stan Ridgeway meets Julian Casablancas delivery, they rocked into opener “ America ” with enthusiasm and gusto. The upbeat, ramshackle 50’s milk bar doo-wop of “Beach Sluts” was an early highlight, their performance bordering on wild chaos but being held in check largely by drummer Brent Mayes, a solid and tough presence and likely the best drummer out of Minneapolis since Grant Hart! “We don’t have a set-list, we just kind of go,” announced Gatesmith following an onstage band consultation on the subject of “what are we playing now?” which resulted in a deliciously raucous “This One’s Different”, and the subsequent C86/Strokes collision of “Told You Once”. And all too quickly, their ½ hour set culminated in a moshpit-tastic “Back Of Your Neck”, their best number and the highlight tonight, the glorious soaring rush of the descending “whoo-hoo”s already instantly memorable. And memorable too was a chat with drummer-man Mayes afterwards, who offered to write me a set-list! Great stuff. Like the Vaccines, Howler’s lineage is obvious and easy to trace, but the bands that last the distance always have great tunes. And Howler have great tunes. A potentially great band for 2012 and beyond, I’m glad I got to see them in a small venue…

837 THE HORRORS, Toy, Oxford O2 Academy 2 , Thursday 19 January 2012

2012-01-20T19:37:00.002Z

The Horrors,

for me, are proof that a leopard can indeed change its spots, or at least colour them a slightly different shade of black! I’d first encountered this lot 5 years ago, on the NME Brats Bus Tour (gig 723), when they’d played sub Alien Sex Fiend doomy electronic Goth, generally come across like a somewhat comic Munsters (black balloons!), and been well and truly blown off by the Mighty Automatic. I’d therefore dismissed them as one trick ponies (bats?) and ignored the critical acclaim heaped upon their sophomore effort, “Primary Colours”, a couple of years back. Silly me. After deciding to investigate, following similar acclaim for current CD “Skying”, I’d found “Primary Colours” as much a deliciously intriguing blend of JAMC wall of noise guitar rock and expansive and evocative Bunnymen-like 80’s rockism, as I’d found their current release a head-on collision of absorbing Krautrock synth and slightly baggy rhythm swagger. Good stuff, either way, and definitely a reinvented band worthy of seeing “live” – without the black balloons this time, I hope! So t’was that I headed down to Oxford on a blustery Thursday evening for this, the first gig of 2012 and the first with our new Skoda! Paranoid about parking it, I had to wait 10 minutes, then fight over a spot in the usual Tescos Car Park, before hitting the venue for this sold-out show via a double queue, which meant I missed all but the last half number of support act Toy. Apparently half of indie no-marks Joe Lean And The Jing Jang Jong, they’re now monotonous gloomy robotic rhythm types, going for The Horrors Mark 2 sound but ending up like Secret Machines instead. Still, a bit of a snap judgement on the strength of one half-number... This was a rescheduled show, following October’s postponement after vocalist Faris Badwan had voice problems, and one could feel the pent-up anticipation in this diverse sell-out crowd (rock dads as well as the youthful Horrors massive!), as The Velvet Underground and some other noisy tosh (probably also The Velvet Underground!) was played over the PA. Finally the lights dimmed, and The Horrors embarked onto the dry-ice choked stage just after 9, led by leather-jacketed Goblin King Faris, who perversely wished us, “Happy New Year,” before easing into the loose-limbed, libidinous dark groove of opener “Changing The Rain” (which “live” reminded me a bit of Chapterhouse’s shoegaze epic “ Pearl ”!). A strident and powerful “Mirror’s Image” followed, Faris a tall and commanding stage presence already grabbing the attention, and, despite being momentary halted by synth trouble, they kept the momentum with a superb “I Can See Through You”, “Skying”s best number and a highlight tonight. “You’re a smashing crowd,” declared the Goblin King, as the normally reticent Oxford audience went nuts, with a baying moshpit throughout. The kids love The Horrors, what can I say? The set mid-section answered my long-held query as to what a Goth-dance Bunnymen would sound like, before a strident, gear-changing “Endless Blue” recalled The Close Lobsters’ roaring “Mother Of God”, no less. Some drawn-out feedback preceded a stately “Still Life”, epic and robust, to round off a short, 50 minutes set. However they weren’t done, the layered Mary Chain-isms of their best number “Who Can Say” kicking off a resounding encore, which was rounded off by a lengthy, brooding and menacing Krautrock epic “Moving Further Away”, itself culminating in a crescendo of feedback and dramatic white strobe. Fine stuff. Another band in thrall to the 80’s, sure, but this lot are engorging a wide array of 80’s rock styles and regurgitating them in a chameleonic, primordial soup, proving themselves the unlikeliest of contenders in the process. Colour me wrong; The Horrors are no joke band, but a very promising and inventive force to be reckoned with. And no black balloons this time!

836 TIN SPIRITS, Swindon Arts Centre, Friday 9 December 2011

2011-12-11T19:34:00.001Z

A local one to finish the year with, in two ways; not only a quick jaunt up the Old Town, but a return of locals Tin Spirits, who feature in their ranks former XTC guitarist Dave Gregory! Since my last encounter almost a couple of years ago, they’d recorded an album of original material and played with Marillion, underlining their “prog” status on their website header (uh oh...). However, they still promise XTC covers, and that, rather than their occasionally admirable but largely emotion-free prog-based covers or promised original stuff, prompted me to book a ticket and get the hell out of the house while Rach hosted a girly night in!So, bearing in mind the Roddy Woomble gig timings (and in the total absence of any other info from ticket or venue website), I left just after 8 for a quick drive up the hill, but then suffered a total parking mare. Squeezed into the last, over-parked, space in the 3rd car park I tried (!), then hit the venue at 8.30, only to find the band had started at 8! Heated words with the duty manager (whom I had to wait for to usher me into the back of the auditorium, delaying me further) didn’t help, so I was in a pissy mood when I took a seat as Tin Spirits finished up their “Paranoid Android” cover, and launched into a Led Zep number which I recognised, but didn’t much enjoy. Indeed, the first high spot for me came with a cover of The Doors splendidly creepy, sinuous “Riders On The Storm” before a couple of XTC numbers concluded part one of the set and cheered me up considerably. Firstly, a pulsing, undulating “Jason And The Argonauts”, introduced by Dave Gregory as a highlight of the last XTC “live” set (way back in 1982!) and with all herky-jerky rhythm, like a film loop played backwards, then the lush and impossibly melodic “Towers Of London”, Gregory’s wonderful guitar work to the fore as the rest of the band, awed, watched him, line astern. Now this was what I was here for!A couple of nice chats at the intermission, first with Martine, wife of guitarist Dan Steinhardt and a colleague on my creative writing course (over 2 years ago now!), then another with an old punk buddy, who likewise doesn’t like the prog and was there for the XTC numbers, and who remarked, “for the first 25 minutes I thought, what am I doing here?” So it seems my parking-mare didn’t cause me to miss much!Set part two eased in with a haunting, slow-burn “Dream Brother”, before it was back to the prog with Rush and Zappa stuff, and their own, much better but still occasionally unnecessarily complex, meandering and over-elaborate numbers. I admired the skilled, almost virtuoso guitar interplay of both Gregory and Steinhardt, excellent axemen both, but the material itself, despite being faithfully and authentically reproduced, was often anodyne and sterile, leaving me cold. A chugging “Reeling In The Years” however concluded the set, but they weren’t going to get away that easily and returned for a final XTC double. A stripped back and plaintive “Dear God” was splendidly delivered, and the evening was capped by a rousing singalong of “Senses Working Overtime”. Dan Steinhardt took lead vocal chores for both, injecting some real emotion and fire into his vocal performance (hooray!), particularly during “Dear God” which was my set highlight.So, once again the XTC “covers” (does it really count as a “cover” when one of the original band is playing it?), plus a couple of others, made the evening entirely worthwhile for me. I appreciate that in order to progress as a band and take this beyond “hobby” stage, Tin Spirits will need to concentrate increasingly on their own material rather than the XTC stuff, and at that point they’ll probably lose me, so I’d best enjoy them while I can. So overall, thanks again boys, for allowing me to hear at least a taster of XTC “live”!

835 THE VACCINES, Frankie And The Heartstrings, Bristol O2 Academy, Friday 2 December 2011

2011-12-04T20:24:00.001Z

In the almost complete absence of any promising new band discoveries this year (Okkervil River and Male Bonding notwithstanding, but OR have been around for donkey’s years, and MB bassist Kevin Hendricks had previous with Seafood, so I’m not sure how “new” they actually count as…), NME press darlings and this week’s “Best Band In The World” (according to said venerable rag) The Vaccines are probably the best “brand new” band I’ve come across in 2011. And yes, I know I’m damning them with faint praise… Nevertheless, their spunky, surf guitar overload take on jangly C86 ramshackle upbeat pop has had Rach tapping her toes, and me warmly reaching for early Soup Dragons/ Razorcuts comparisons. We sorted tix for this one, which sold out in double quick hype-propelled time, and I for one approached it with curious trepidation; do we have a band here, or is this yet another young group suddenly hyped to the eyeballs, and, unable to sustain it, destined to fall from grace almost as quick?Bristol Friday night Christmas shopping, plus an early curfew, necessitated an early departure at 6.20, but the Cabot Circus traffic didn’t delay us as much as feared. So we parked up and hit the venue, already rammed to the gills with teenage indie kids, but also an odd smattering of greying old lags such as myself, at 7.30, as support Frankie And The Heartstrings came on. Led by a charismatic young singer (presumably Frankie), they played some nice innocent strumalong pop with an 80’s ramshackle bent a la early Orange Juice, had one good atmospheric newie recalling British Sea Power, then spoilt a good impression with a clumsy ska number to finish. Hmmm.Took our usual spot on the stuffed floor, stage left, and enjoyed some good pre-gig music (Neutral Milk Hotel! “Born To Run”! “Teenage Kicks”!) before The Vaccines came on to The Ramones “Rock And Roll Radio” which made me kindly disposed to them from the start, and after an oddly dour opener, they hit the “amphetamine fast surf guitar rush” button with “Wrecking Bar (Ra Ra Ra)”, and the crowd – including Rachel! - went utterly batshit crazy.Now, If I was a 16 year old indie kid and had never heard of the likes of The Ramones, Buzzcocks, Velvet Underground, Birdland or even Buddy Holly (!), then I’d likely think The Vaccines were the greatest thing I’d ever heard. Luckily for them, that description probably accounts for the vast majority of their demographic, and certainly of the crowd tonight. However I have, so at times their material comes across like 4 kids gleefully rummaging through their parents’ record collection. “Wetsuit” was very 50’s, Buddy Holly-esque, and newie “Teenage Icon” recalled SLF’s “Nobody’s Hero”, at least in subject matter. Overall it’s all simple, almost primitive stuff, and so far, for me they’re not adding much of their own to the mix. Nevertheless, this matters very little to this audience, who greeted every note with frenzied devotion verging on mania, and contributed massively to a thrilling and exciting atmosphere. What The Vaccines do do extremely well is fuel this atmosphere with an equally thrilling, dynamic and exhiliarating performance, led by chief rabble rouser Justin Young, possessor of a voice I’m not sure I like “live”, a cross between a Lou Reed street sneer and a slurring bellow, but who channelled the energy well, lapping up the crowd adulation. A short, snappy 45 minute set plus encores was highlighted by a Ramones-like and rather splendid actually “If You Wanna”, before which Justin challenged us to “show us how you do it in Bristol”, and the crowd responded in kind.So, overall a by no means original, but a thrilling and totally enjoyable gig. Long term, the jury’s out for me, but they’re walking the walk right now and bringing simple, classic and fun rock to a new generation. And who should be in the scrum for the car park tickets in Trenchard outside afterwards; none other than England football legend and “old punk rocker” Stuart Pearce! I couldn’t resist patting him on the shoulder and asking, “did you enjoy that then, Sir?” to which I got the instant riposte, “whadda you fink?” Fantastic – who am I to argue with Psycho?

834 THE LEMONHEADS, Meredith Sheldon, Netherlands, Portsmouth Wedgewood Rooms, Wednesday 30 November 2011

2011-12-01T13:39:00.001Z

It’s been a long 4 ½ years since I’ve last crossed paths with Evan Dando, a man who still remains one of my all-time musical icons. My oldest son, Evan, will attest to that for all his life... However, an indifferent showing in Bristol in October 2006, followed by the awful Cardiff car-crash that was gig 730, last time out in May 2007, persuaded me pretty much not to allow Evan an opportunity to disappoint me once again. However, this tour intrigued me enough to shell out on tix, given that the set’s centrepiece would be a full rendition of “It’s A Shame About Ray”, The Lemonheads’ 1992 career-defining post-grunge/alt-country/slacker collision masterpiece. Evan couldn’t really get that far wrong, particularly when this time, he was also reported to be backed up by old Boston friend Josh Lattanzi on bass, and by American Hi-Fi drummer (and, lest we forget, former Sky Heroes sticksman) Brian Nolan, rather than the less competent back rows of The Pieces, to exponentially increase the level of musicianship on show. Can he?So, Tim and Tracey picked me up at 20 to 7, then we had a wild and windy drive down the well trodden (albeit not recently) route to Pompey, unfortunately getting a little lost around Fratton, but eventually squeezing into a tight parking space just behind the venue for 20 past 8. Tix sorted, we scooted into the venue, sold out but quiet early doors, in time for painfully young first support Netherlands. Unfortunately some occasionally chiming guitar and booming bass drum couldn’t lift their material above Coldplay-esque plodding dull mulch.Saw a familiar face poke out of the backstage entrance; not Josh as expected, but American Hi-Fi bassist Drew Parsons! Popped over and exchanged warm greetings, then spent 10 minutes or so chatting and catching up with the affable Mr. Parsons, apparently a late replacement for Josh, also hearing about the Hi-Fi’s tentative plans to return to the UK next year. Wow! It was a real pleasure to catch up with Drew again, all the more so for being unexpected, and suddenly I was ridiculously excited at the prospect of the show. American Hi-Fi, on their day, are one of the most incendiary “live” bands I’ve seen, so the thought of the Hi-Fi rhythm section backing Evan was mouthwatering, particularly as Drew promised he and Brian were going to “rock it tonight!”But first, we had main support Meredith Sheldon. Recommended by Drew, she played a solo set of Juliana Hatfield-lite strumalong alt-college pop angst which was diverting but oddly dated, probably a whole bunch better on record, but drifted a little and was also overlong, bumping us up to 10 to 10, by which time the place was rammed and anticipatory.In pretty short order thereafter, Evan Dando took the stage alone, picking up a guitar and powering through a messy solo “Being Around”. The Hi-Fi boys then joined him, for the “Shame About Ray” run-through in order, which although being cheered to the rafters, took some time to really soar. An odd crowd, this, enthusiastic yet static, and initially Evan seemed to be dialling it in, seemingly a little fried and droney, admittedly suffering with some poor muffled vocal sound, but also swathing some of the “Ray” material in unnecessary riffery when a delicate touch was better called for. Drew and Brian nevertheless pulled a stalwart shift behind him, their chemistry undeniable, their dynamism and power exemplary, and “Rudderless” was an early and buoyant highlight. At this point Evan was clearly being carried by his band and the strength of this classic material, but “Alison’s Starting To Happen” finally saw some rocking, as I piled down the front, pitching up stage right two rows back. An unexpectedly fine “Kitchen” made way for an inclusive, singalong “Frank Mills”, and suddenly we saw a totally different Evan.The “Ray” album now dispensed with in short order, Evan then delivered a solo vignette commencing with a gentle “Outdoor Type”, which culminated in almost a jig-along finish, and finally we saw the best of his talent and delicious dark baritone. A touching solo “All My Life” and “Why Do You Do This To Yourself?” preceded a short break, after which Evan and the boys came out all guns blazing with a superb “Down About It”. Indeed, this second set section seemed more relaxed, the set-list reworked on the fly as Evan, again seeming to play for an audience of one, nevertheless put more commitment into his performance. A titanic and incendiary “Stove” was easily the set highlight, fairly bristling with power and dynamism, before ”If I Could Talk I’d Tell You” rounded the set off on an upbeat note. By this time I was hoping to catch Drew’s eye to blag a set-list, but there was no need, as, whilst Evan lengthened the final riff, Drew unmoored his list from the floor and handed it over to me! Result! We hit the road promptly then, enduring a difficult journey back in nasty conditions and getting home at 1 (yikes!). This was a late, but ultimately worthwhile one; the usual variable performance from Evan, lacking the passion of old but at his best personally during his solo numbers. However overall this was a mighty improvement over the last couple of “Lemonheads” shows, lifted by a superb rhythm section as good and powerful as any Lemonheads line-up. Great to see Drew again. And now I can’t wait for the Hi-Fi to come over next year…!

833 OKKERVIL RIVER, A Classic Education, Bristol Trinity, Monday 21 November 2011

2011-11-22T19:35:00.001Z

A recent discovery for me, this lot, albeit one which, like US alt-rock/ Americana crossover contemporaries The Decemberists, had been skirting around the periphery of my musical vision awhile before I took the plunge with this year’s release “I Am Very Far”. Finding it an absorbing collection of diverse musical vignettes, by turns stripped back and bare, then overlaid with strident and epic crescendos, and featuring a captivatingly intelligent lyrical perspective similar to Colin Meloy’s lot, and also The Hold Steady, I invested in their previous 2 CDs and enjoyed them too! Thus intrigued, I sorted myself a ticket for their brief Autumn tour.Unable to persuade Tim to join me, I took a drive down the M4 on my own after Grandma arrived to help me put the kids to bed (Rach on Governor training), and, having taken local advice, parked in the cavernous Cabot Circus car park about 5 minutes from the venue. Not the most pleasant of walks, but arrived at this dilapidated old church venue in the murky Autumn dark – very haunting and evocative! After a slight ticket-mare, got into this elegantly run-down large pillar-fringed hall, just as support A Classic Education were taking the stage at 8.15. They played a tough and resonant brand of laconic US surf pop, with some nice hooks and occasional noisy guitar wig-out middle eights, and some 60’s “ooh-aah” melody to flesh out their muscular jangle. They’d sound good on a Summer Saturday drive with the top down...I took a superb viewing spot stage left, two rows back, and watched a very fiddly stage set-up, particularly on the guitar pedals, before the 6-piece Okkervil River came onstage prompt at 9.15, vocalist and inspiration Will Sheff bounding onstage last, looking like a geography teacher in glasses, beard and tweed, but enthusiastically launching into opener “Wake And Be Fine” a baroque chuntering Tom Waits like procession of a song. And they were off, like a firecracker…This performance was a real stunner. On record, Okkervil River are a slowly congealing mixture of quiet, backwoods landscapes and swirling, sweeping epics of cinemascopic range; the missing link between “Deserters Songs”-era Mercury Rev and The Arcade Fire, if you will. However, I certainly wasn’t expecting the strident, powerful and dynamic “live” agenda they were setting! Sheff was certainly the main focus, a bundle of nervous energy giving an impassioned yet open and personable performance throughout, but this was also thanks in no small part to guitarist Lauren Gurgiolo. Frail looking in a scruffy pink dress, she nevertheless played her chops like a demon. “Rider” was magnificent, thundering and strident (particularly the “Rock, Rockaway Beach !” line), before a touching and indolent “Piratess” introduced some light and shade.A brilliant “We Need A Myth”, starting off all Scott Walker-esque lush and sweeping, then building to an epic crescendo, followed some inter-band banter about the lack of personal hygiene on the road (!), then a slew of mid-set technical problems saw Sheff off on a Steely Dan covers band tangent, killing some time prior to the creepy, Violent Femmes wheezing march of “The Valley”. But really, every one was a winner, the “live” performance really adding an unexpected extra dimension to the material, none more so than the penultimate “Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe”. For me the high watermark of their canon, this was greeted with rapture by this reverential crowd, and delivered as stridently, passionately and dynamically as possible.The pedal steel of encore “A Girl In Port” cleared the air before the final, crashing “Unless It’s Kicks” rounded off a, “crikey, never saw THAT coming!” performance. Adding power and passion to their intelligence and craft, this was WAY better than I’d expected or hoped, and ultimately – and unexpectedly – one of the gigs of the year, from a real find. Magnificent!

832 ADAM ANT AND THE GOOD, THE MAD AND THE LOVELY POSSE, Bristol O2 Academy, Friday 11 November 2011 Friday 11 November 2011

2011-11-14T19:40:00.001Z

The undisputed comeback king of 2011, off on another jaunt and playing appreciably closer to us than Birmingham this time; given he’d delivered Gig Of The Year thus far in B’rum at the start of June, how could I resist? This time I was joined by fellow early Ant fans Big Man and Prov, plus I managed to persuade Rachel, who was weaned on the “Prince Charming”-era glam pop Adam, to join us for another nostalgia trip. Mindful of an early “club night” finish at the Academy Fridays, we decided on an early departure to pick the boys up at 6.15, and t’was good that we did too; an horrendous journey involving monsoon-like double-wiper storms on the M4 slowing us to 30 mph, plus a 20 minute traffic jam to clear Cabot Circus on the entrance to Bristol, saw us park on the roof of Trenchard Car Park a full 2 hours after departure, and 5 minutes before Adam’s anticipated arrival onstage! Yikes! We sprinted helter skelter downstairs and into the venue, already packed to the gills with Ant devotees – Bristol , let it not be said you didn’t make an effort for this one! We passed a dandy highwayman in full regalia plus duelling pistols in the lobby (how’d he get those in?), and I then stood by a bloke in full Native American feather headdress at the urinals! Hope I’m not stood behind him on the dancefloor! Managed to shoe-horn ourselves onto the dry-ice choked floor, stage left as usual, before the lights were killed and the Posse took the stage at 8.30, once again easing into the sleazy, grunge-lite opening riffery of “Plastic Surgery” before Adam, again in full Hussar regalia, took the stage and the mic as the song pace picked up, taking a reverb-heavy lead vocal with the hookline, “take you down to Harley Street…”, already in command, already the centre of attention. In 2011’s cynical cold light of day, we kind of forget just how big a star Adam Ant actually was. In 1980-1983 he was literally ubiquitous, turning up on Royal Variety Performances and prime time Saturday shows, drawing 17 million viewers. You couldn’t move in the charts for bumping into one of his hits; this quite literally over Christmas 1980, as his 2 previous record labels attempted to cash in on his sudden success, flooding the charts with Adam And The Ants records! Lady Gaga times Bono times Hugh Jackman, with an irresistible star quality and sex appeal, allied with an undeniable punk rock street cred, gave him almost universal appeal. As before, however, I was in it for the early Ants material, once again in happy abundance. I knew what was coming, so after “Dog Eat Dog”’s double drums abated, I handed my jacket to Rach, regressed back to my 15 year old punk rock self, and piled in the increasing mosh for the ringing guitar intro to a thrilling “Beat My Guest”. The same incredible vintage Ants sequence as Birmingham followed, no less amazing for being anticipated; a strident chanting “Kick”, a languid sinewy “Cartrouble” with a delicious descending verse bassline, and the highlight as ever, “Zerox”, a staccato art-punk classic which built and fleshed out into an all-too short (again!) crescendo and featured a passionate vocal from Adam, clearly on top form throughout. I took a breather as Adam brought on his dancing girls, including “Sachsgate” girl Georgina “Georgie Girl” Baillie, for the military march of “Deutscher Girls”. Then, an unannounced “Stand And Deliver” heralded a clutch of more “commercial” numbers to placate the masses puzzled with the proliferation of older songs, and also brought a tear of nostalgia to Rachel’s eye! The Burundi drums and Native American chants of Adam’s “Manifesto” number, “Kings Of The Wild Frontier”, dovetailed into this section and brought the most rapturous reception tonight, Adam pausing to take in a lengthy and reverential ovation. “I’ve been lying awake at night thinking, what will I play? What do people want to hear? Then I think, fuck it! I’ll play what I want to!” announced Adam before a suitably perverse “Whip In My Valise”, again sent the set into pre-fame era mode. “Antmusic” was announced with the comment, “never play this in a Chinese restaurant!” as Adam, a yelping, yodelling, chanting, energetic, kinetic and riveting stage presence throughout, belying his 57 years, fooled and teased the audience. I piled back into the mosh for the set denouement; a brilliant “Lady” (“this should have been the ‘A’ side of my first single,” said Adam; too right!) segueing into a punky, amphetamine-fast “Fall In” to round off a brilliant set. The encores saw the dancing girls down to their undergarments, much to the boys’ delight, making even the sadly inevitable “Prince Charming” palatable! A hasty run through “Get It On” and “Physical”, given that the gig was bumping right up to 10 pm curfew time (resulting in the omission of “Red Scab”, amongst others, from an intended longer encore – boo!) finished off another stellar performance from a born performer now purged of all his demons and doing what he does best. The man is a star, pure and simple, and it’s been a pleasure and a privilege to see him perform this year. Another set-list and a swift run home put the exclamation point on a wonderful night in the company of good friends and Adam Ant, my Live Act of 2011. In a great 2011 gig year, there’s still no contest!

831 THROWING MUSES, The Spectrals, Special Benny, London Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Wednesday 2 November 2011

2011-11-03T20:13:00.000Z

Yup, they’re back too… in one of the considerably more welcome reunions of recent times, Throwing Muses, the barbed Boston lot who rendered me “as excited as a kid at an airport” on my first sighting, some 22½ years ago (yipe!), have joined the reunion gravy train. This burst of activity coincides with the 25th Anniversary (double yipe!) of their debut album, a real game-changing and worthily “Classic” record which saw vocalist/ inspiration Kristen Hersh and her band arrive, teenaged yet fully formed, without any recognisable antecedents, sounding other-worldly in their melange of melody and malevolence. It takes a special band to drag me up to London on a wild Autumn Wednesday night, a band exactly like Throwing Muses! And I wasn’t alone; long-time fellow fans Beef and Ady (Ady taking a very late call on this one, with me booking his ticket this afternoon!) joined me for this one. Picked the boys up smartly at 5.15, then had a nasty traffic, breakdown (not me!) and weather-delayed journey to the Smoke, parking up opposite Bush Hall at ¼ to 8 and wandering in just as first act Special Benny rounded off their set. Chatted at the back bar and bought merch (signed copies of Kristen’s book! Result!) during main support The Spectrals’ inauspicious tom-tom drum dominated 60’s set, and then took a good viewing spot stage right on a rapidly-filling and anticipatory floor for the entrance of the Muses at the witching hour, 9.20.This Muses trio of Kristin, still tiny and waif-like, libidinous and dextrous bassist Bernard Georges, and long-time drummer David Narcizo, dynamic as ever, wandered casually onstage and eased into opener “Soul Soldier” to devotional applause. A splendid opening salvo included a rollercoaster ride of snarling menace through “Garoux Des Larmes” and the undulating caterpillar crawl bassline of 2003’s “Speed And Sleep”, Kristen challenging a punter’s cheer during the intro with, “you do NOT own that record!” Then “Bright Yellow Gun” saw Kristen, static yet mesmerizingly intense throughout, head bobbing in her usual infinity pattern, roar, lioness-like, through a surprisingly strident and savage version of what I’d previously considered a light, almost throwaway “pop” Muses song. Wrong, boy…A bit of banter with a punter shouting for “Fish” saw Kristen reply, “If I had a fish I’d give it to you! Someone gave me some homemade sushi though – how do you do that? I can barely make toast!” She then snarled the lyric of a subsequent titanic “Hate My Way” as if thoroughly disgusted by what she’s being forced to sing. For me, thereafter, the set lost a little momentum, as the sound wavered and too many mid-paced little monsters seemed to be subsumed in the Empire’s echoing expanse, the sound suffering accordingly. However the set roared back with a vengeance, with a fabulously strident and seething “Vicky’s Box”, by which point I was down the front in a mini moshpit, screaming along for all I was worth. “Bea” completed a stunning recovery for the set, leaving us hungry for more.And the “Fish” guy got his reward, as Kristen delivered a shimmering acoustic solo “Fish”, before a magnificent “Mania”, preceded by a lengthy and quirky tale of Marie, a blind college contemporary of Kristen’s. “Mania” itself was stunning in its’ beautiful ferocity, and prompted a second encore (“it’s totally not fucking Wednesday anymore!” being Kristen’s response to this!) of “Devil’s Roof”, climaxing another remarkable 2011 resurrection. I got my reward as well, grabbing “official” set-list No. 500 (!) after a brilliant evening in the company of one of the most unique, pioneering talents in rock, now thankfully fully restored. Kristen Hersh, thank you.

830 CHAPEL CLUB, Clock Opera, Oxford O2 Academy 2, Monday 17 October 2011

2011-10-18T20:43:00.000+01:00

The hectic gigging Autumn continues apace, with me hauling my tired and cold-ridden ass down to the old Zodiac upstairs room to see Chapel Club. A new band on me in 2011, this lot, albeit with a familiar sound, taking as they do the early 80’s post punk pseudo-Goth dark rockist guitar template that I was weaned on as their inspiration. A crowded marketplace, sure, with the likes of Editors, White Lies, even Boston’s excellent Taxpayer, all competing for space, but it’s right in my wheelhouse so I’m always up for another one! So, a blustery solo run along to Oxford and a lengthy circumnavigation of the city centre, due to an annoying abundance of buses, nevertheless still saw me parking up and hitting the venue just after 8. A very poorly attended one early doors, this, with the venue back room closed off as well! I took a watching brief stage right for support Clock Opera, on at 8.30. From the outset their sound wasn’t sorted, coming across shrill, harsh and abrasive, and their cluttered and pounding 80’s synth pop was hard on the ears and really didn’t help their cause. Not sure why so many bands want to channel this stuff – it really wasn’t that great first time around! Their closing 2 numbers however were much better, more purposeful crescendo-filled affairs, throwing the rest of their output into sharp relief. Write some more like these two, please, boys… The place filled up a little more but was comfortably attended, no more. Also, I was surprised by the proliferation of older, grey haired chaps at this one – yeah, yeah, I’m a fine one to talk, I know! A very fiddly soundcheck finally saw Chapel Club take the stage at 9.40, by which time I’d wandered down the front and was on the barriers, stage centre, in front of a very blasé, standoffish crowd! Nevertheless, the band took to their task with gusto, opening with an unfamiliar, synth-blanketed new number then informing us that the format of their performance would be a split-set affair; a clutch of newies for starters, then the more familiar material from current, debut album “Palace” to conclude. Said newies were predominantly keyboard-driven, gloomy affairs, shrouded and mysteriously morose, with electronic drumbeats giving them a feel more akin to Talk Talk than to their album stuff, and featuring suitably doomy vocals from singer Lewis Bowman, who with his more severe crew-cut looked slightly out of place amidst his floppy fringed bandmates. Half a dozen unfamiliar numbers in, Lewis announced, “this is the second set,” by way of intro to LP opener “Surfacing”, the band’s trademark growling bass underpinning this moody vignette of dark brooding bedsit melancholy, featuring a chorus steal from the old standard “Dream A Little Dream Of Me”. The set predictably picked up considerably thereafter, as the drummer took to a conventional kit, and the band concentrated on their more familiar guitar-driven material. “Five Trees” was a dynamic turbocharged highlight, “O Maybe I” all seething angst and menace, and set closer “Shore” a pulsating crescendo of guitar noise, to close out an oddly shaped but ultimately worthwhile hour long set. Shame there weren’t more to see it, but Lewis thanked those of us that had bothered, “for coming out to see us on a Monday night… it is Monday, right?” Grabbed the set-list afterwards – also a two parter! – and had a quick chat with the helpful roadie before tiredness took over and I headed home, after a good one from this promising young band unafraid to take chances with their sound. More power to them!

829 RODDY WOOMBLE, Duotone, Swindon Arts Centre, Friday 14 October 2011

2011-10-18T20:37:00.001+01:00

I had cause to be grateful that our Chinese food order wasn’t ready for collection when the shop said so, whilst visiting my parents for the obligatory family meal a few weeks back! Waiting impatiently for my prawn curry to cook, I absent-mindedly flicked through a Swindon Arts Centre brochure, to discover Roddy Woomble, main man with our enduring “live” favourites and purveyors of windswept, slightly frantic indie guitar epics, Idlewild, was bringing his folkier, rootsier side vehicle to Swindon ! Result! So Rach booked a couple of tickets and we were set for another “live” Rod experience; my 14th, all told!So we left before the kids went to bed – just to hammer the point home that we’ve gone out and they’re being babysat! – and had a drink in the Vic, before trundling around to the Arts Centre just before performance time at 8. It’s been gutted and renovated since my only previous visit (Dead Men Walking) and is now a smart little seated theatre room. Took our allotted seats, dead centre, half a dozen rows back, for support Duotone. They were a bowler-hatted and waist-coated duo playing an eclectic array of instruments (including a percussion floor box, similar to one I “played” at Stone Honey’s Hollywood Hills party on our honeymoon!) through computer loops, producing a layered, occasionally morose but often quaint and homely pastoral Olde Worlde folkish sound. Some nice harmony overlays, particularly on their best number “You Don’t Need Church”, which recalled Hobotalk. We chatted with fellow gig-goers Peej and Mandy in the downstairs café whilst browsing the Arts Centre library (!) during the intermission, before another handy “five minute call” prompted us back to our seats for the arrival of the raffishly hirsute Roddy and his 5-piece band, dead on 9. His set showcased current solo album “The Impossible Song and Other Songs”, along with previous solo effort “My Secret Is My Silence”, a fine canon of slow-burn folky introspection, and if it occasionally veered towards trad folky fiddly-diddly, there was always an Idlewild-like cascading and tumbling chorus (e.g. “Into The Atlantic”, or “Leaving Without Gold”) around the corner, and Roddy’s nasal but warm vocals to capture the heart. A lot of the material also featured remote Scottish references, including a song about the A87, “the road that goes through Skye!” and another, the excellent devotional “Take Me To The Island”, referencing a Western Isles ferry company that had apparently been awarded “World’s Best Ferry Company” by “The Guardian”! “So if there are any employees of [said company] holidaying in Swindon , you should feel very proud of yourselves,” announced Rod, to which I couldn’t resist adding the rejoinder, “thank you – I am!” Rod, a fine and relaxed raconteur throughout, was also complimentary towards Swindon, saying he and the band had spent a nice afternoon at Lydiard Park , which prompted Rach to whisper, “I wish I’d taken the kids there this afternoon!” The haunting elegy of “Waverly Steps” was an enchanting highlight, and set closer “My Secret Is My Silence” got Rach beaming, whilst their only foray into Idlewild’s songsheet, a stripped back “You Held The World In Your Arms” for voice, acoustic guitar and violin only, was predictably another highlight as first encore. Rod and co. then delivered a final, jaunty “Roll Along”, to, “send you out into the Swindon night,” and close out a charming little set giving another dimension to one of our indie faves.That wasn’t it though, as I blagged a set-list afterwards from the band manning the merch stand, and we chatted to a personable Roddy and co awhile, reminiscing about following Idlewild around California on our honeymoon, 6 years ago this month! Result - again!

828 MANCHESTER ORCHESTRA, The Xcerts, Bristol O2 Academy, Sunday 2 October 2011

2011-10-03T20:15:00.000+01:00

A gig to celebrate Rachel’s and my wedding anniversary, this; we celebrated 6 years together the previous day and had intended to go see Dave Gorman at the Wyvern on this date. However when intriguing new US alt rock band Manchester Orchestra, who’d caught our attention with a deliciously noisy and savage blast of an album a couple of years ago in “Mean Everything To Nothing”, announced a tour promoting new “concept” album “Simple Math” which passed through Bristol on the same day, we quickly divested ourselves of the Gorman tix and arranged this one! Part of the attraction, I confess, was that this gig was originally scheduled for the Thekla, increasingly becoming a favourite venue of ours, but “overwhelming demand” saw it relocated to the much larger yet more anodyne O2 Academy. Bah! Nevertheless, off we blasted into the thankfully quickly setting sun, on a scorching Indian Summer Sunday evening, hitting a puzzlingly deserted venue (“overwhelming demand”? Where?) before openers The Xcerts. A young Scottish three piece, they blasted through a set of reasonable ragged hormonal Emo angst, with some distorted vocals providing a relief from the vocalist’s occasionally trying screaming. They finished with their best 2 numbers, including a final one which, with a determined driving pace and swirling guitar overlay, reminded me a little of My Vitriol!The place filled up as we took good viewing spots on the dancefloor, stage left as usual, and I could understand the venue change – this would have been a tight squeeze on the “dirty boat”! Following a fiddly sound set-up, the lights eventually dropped and Manchester Orchestra took the smoky stage just after 9, led on by vocalist Andy Hull, a huge bearded and hulking great bear of a man, albeit the possessor of an eerily high pitched and plaintive voice recalling Grandaddy’s Jason Lytle. In fact, the band’s beards and utilitarian garb overall suggested a junior Grandaddy, and whilst there are traces of the Modesto maestro’s dusty yet quirky alt-Country psych fuzz in their music, for example stripped back and slow-burn opener “Deer”, this band know how to Rock, big time. The subsequent “Pride” brought the noise, and by the 3rd number, the excellent “April Fool”, they were powering through some strident and towering rock riffs and really working up a sweat. “I’ve Got Friends” reminded me of the Foo Fighters classic “My Hero”, but the set highlight was easily the subsequent “Shake It Out”, a thrilling, seething, visceral and dynamic rock noise, the end of which saw me remarking to Rachel, “NOW I see why Biffy Clyro wanted them as tour support!” “6 years and we still don’t know how to talk to the crowd – welcome to awkward band camp, we’re Manchester Orchestra,” announced a nevertheless charming and gregarious Andy before album title track “Simple Math”. Then, their best number “The Only One” was unveiled, albeit in vocal and guitar form only, which rendered it bereft of it’s Neutral Milk Hotel-alike chugalong fuzz, and provided, for me at least, the only slightly disappointing note of the night. Another parched and plaintive paean in “The River” bookended the set proper, before encores included a funny strumalong number in which Andy declared his admiration of 50 Cent (!), and a superb “Pensacola”, another Grandaddy-esque US alt-psych romp, albeit with another huge guitar powered chorus chant. Overall, this was great, wonderfully noisy and powerful stuff from a highly promising band already delivering the goods, and a lengthy wait for a set-list afterwards paid dividends as well. A fine way to mark our anniversary!

827 MALE BONDING, The History Of Apple Pie, Kutosis, Cardiff Clwb Ifor Bach (downstairs), Sunday 25 September 2011

2011-09-26T21:34:00.008+01:00

After a 7 week gig hiatus which seemed a whole lot longer, I finally kick-start a hectic gigging Autumn with a trip over the bridge to Cardiff , and it’s another welcome return to my gig schedule; no, not to the Clwb Ifor Bach, but to a certain Mr. Kevin Hendrick! I’d heard a breathless rush of a track by Male Bonding on the radio at the gym, no less, and further investigation revealed said band featured Kev, Seafood’s former flaxen-haired bassist supreme! It’s been a long 7 years since last seeing him in action, so I was well up for a Male Bonding gig, however Cardiff on an unfriendly Sunday night was the nearest their current tour passed to Swindon! OK then...

Thus it was that I blasted down on my own in increasing inky darkness, parking up in an NCP in the shadow of the Millennium Stadium for the £2 night rate, and hitting the venue - the small, Swindon Vic-style downstairs room tonight - in time for openers Kutosis, on at 8. I’d been in touch with Cardiff-domiciled friend Craig Gurney, who couldn’t join me tonight but recommended I check out this young local 3-piece. After a difficult, shouty opener, they settled down to some choppy, angular rhythms and dynamic, discordant guitar work, overlaid with some yelping vocals. Exuding an air of claustrophobic tension and some occasional militaristic drumbeats similar to Comsat Angels, they had a couple of very good numbers (albeit not the ones Craig suggested I look out for – both omitted from the set!) in “Island”, with some in your face call and response vocals, and a more conventional rocker “Shadows”. An impressive start. Tour support The History Of Apple Pie followed on swiftly; an eclectic looking bunch, they opened with some mangled, jagged guitar and Pixies-ish mood, then settled into a more textured, harmonic, almost shoe-gazey approach which was eminently listenable if not particularly memorable. With smooth nasal vocals courtesy of their oriental female vocalist, Lush were an obvious if not entirely inaccurate comparison. Not bad…

Ran into Kev in the foyer afterwards for a surprise greeting and a brief chat, before he and the band set up, and I took my viewing spot stage (well, floor) left, down the front, for Male Bonding’s 9.45 start. From the outset they were “on it”, with opener “Nitemare” scooted through in an amphetamine-fast whirl of cacophonic melody and harmony, setting the tone for the set. Like Kev’s former charges Seafood, this lot also channels late 80’s US rock, but eschew any notion of light and shade, instead going for an all-out 100mph speed assault, thereby recalling the likes of early Teenage Fanclub, albeit on helium and at 78 rpm! Their relentless guitar attack was nevertheless exciting and rambunctious, with the (deliberately?) submerged and detached vocals throwing more emphasis on their clearly overworked drummer. Joyously raggedy-arsed at times, this was a set of speedy jagged pop thrills from easily the most exciting new band I’ve come across this year (and yes, I wish that statement held more gravitas than it does). A mid-set “Tame The Sun” got me really grooving down the front, their token slow number “Franklin” was nevertheless a deliciously haunting delight, and as far as I was concerned, the metronomic groove of set closer “Bones”, which concluded an impossibly fast 45 minute set, could have lasted another half hour at least!

Tremendous stuff, and nice to catch up afterwards with Kev, one of the most affable and friendly blokes I’ve come across in rock, for another brief chat before I hit the road for a midnight return. Great to have him back in another thrilling “live” band in Male Bonding!

826 THE DICKIES, Mike TV, 2 Sick Monkeys, Bristol Fleece, Friday 5 August 2011

2011-08-18T20:04:00.001+01:00

No better way to start 2 weeks off work than with a gig, particularly when the hosts are original 70’s California cartoon punk rockers The Dickies, originators of the “punk rock cover version” with their gleeful 100mph destructions of the likes of “Nights In White Satin”, “Paranoid”, and their best-known moment, the “Banana Splits” kid’s TV theme song! A band to whom Green Day, for inastance, own a sure debt of gratitude, and a band who’ve delivered a couple of manic but magical gigs in the past, but have been off my gig radar for about 12 years!

So after a late call, I took a Friday night jaunt to the Fleece, hitting this venerable old venue early doors and enjoying some vintage Antmusic before first band, 2 Sick Monkeys, at 8.45. A Swindon (!) two-piece of indeterminate vintage, they blasted through a set of late Dead Kennedys style hardcore onslaught with an admirable enthusiasm of a band twice their number and half their age. The badger-haired gobshite bassist/ vocalist was as funny as fuck (introducing a song called “Happy Days” with, “this is about my suicide note, that was so crap I couldn’t die!”), their prog rock pastiche (“Spontaneous Aboebic Dysentry”!) was ironic and well-observed, and props for ending their set with a song called “Fuck Off”. Hard on the ears early doors, but a riot overall; more power to them! Mike TV, next up, were led by a straw haired Jonathan Papelbon look-alike, and played a more melodic punky noise owing an obvious debt to Mega City Four, with some nice nasal 3 part harmonies a la Silver Sun. Clumsy and off key in parts, but another band with a quick wit (responding to a fat heckler with, “he got me! I’d get him back but I’d have to climb the cunt first”), and one memorable number, set closer “Push Comes To Shove”.

The Dickies came on to an expectant crowd of old punk rockers at 10.30. Now down to 2 original members, vocalist Leonard Graves Phillips (who with his lanky frame and hastily discarded specs, initially resembled a punk rock Arsene Wenger!) and guitarist Stan Lee (a chunky, curly haired monolith with forearms like hams), and backed up by 3 proficient rent-a-punks, their opener “Killer Klowns” unfortunately sounded overloud and technically beset. However, “Fan Mail” kicked it up a few dozen speeds, and the subsequent “Nights” really got the mosh going and the gig into top gear. Phillips, energetic throughout (“not bad for 60”, he commented early on, to a huge cheer), introduced “Give It Back” with, “this song is old”, to which the mosh replied “HOW OLD?????” “Paranoid” followed, as mental, amphetamine-fast and furiously riffing as ever, Stan throwing heroic rock poses, then Phillips donned mask and snorkel and brought on a blow-up doll for a magnificent, set highlight “Waterslide”.

This precipitated a procession of props; a dog hand puppet for “Doggie Do”, a quickly-discarded gorilla mask for “You Drive Me Ape”, and the brilliant penis arm puppet, replete with pendulous bollocks, for the excellent “If Stuart Could Talk”. Then set closer “Gigantor” saw Phillips zoom around the stage with an impromptu towel cape, like the space age robot of the song’s subject.

The inevitable “Banana Splits” ended the planned encore, after which we got an unplanned “(I’m Stuck In A Pagoda With) Tricia Toyota” (which had been my earworm all day leading up to the gig!) and an almost straight “Rocking In The Free World” to end a frantic, frenetic 1 ¼ hours of vintage cartoon punk tomfoolery. “You’re a great looking bunch of kids, I’d like to have sex with each and every one of you!” declared Phillips, and the admiration was mutual. Another band growing old disgracefully, and another superb retro gig for 2011, thanks to The Dickies!

825 THE 2011 SWINDON “BIG ARTS DAY”, Lydiard Park, Swindon, Saturday 9 July 2011

2011-07-12T16:38:00.002+01:00

A welcome repeat of last year’s successful inaugural “Big Arts Day”, a one-day open air festival showcasing the performing and creative arts talent residing within Swindon, and another opportunity to take the kids to see Tim’s band the Shudders! This time we had 3 in tow; Evan was up for it, so we re-jigged his weekend visit schedule to coincide with this. So we set off about 12.30, hitting traffic which surprisingly cleared just the other side of the Link Centre, and parking up in the far field, a short hike from the Events Field and main park, about 1ish. It immediately seemed more professionally run; having apparently catered for 5,000 attendees last year and been overwhelmed with 20,000, the event organiser Steve Causer had advised us that this year they needed to bring in a better infrastructure to cope with the numbers, and this was immediately evident. It just felt better run straight away on arrival.

A concession this year was a smattering of fun-fair activities around the site; a bigger, better run event inevitably costs more to stage, so compromises need to be made to help bolster what is basically a non-profit and, more laudably, free event. Thus it was that we needed to drag Logan away from the “Hook-A-Duck” stand whilst wandering through the plethora of stalls to the Riffs/Holmes Music Stage, an inflatable raised stage which was a marked improvement over last year’s “Gazebo” affair, to catch some of THE FIXED. I’m used to seeing bands younger than myself, but this lot of indie tykes looked barely into their teens! Nevertheless, they seemed bright, enthusiastic and competent despite their age, and I’d liked to have stuck around to catch more of their set. However, I had an appointment in the belly of a whale…

An inflatable sperm whale sat in the middle of the field, with a Fish Wife beckoning the kids in; Logan wanted to go, so we entered the belly, enjoying some fishy pirate tales from a “shipwrecked” Pirate Queen, until it got too hot for Logan and we left. Rach, Evan and Kasey had met up with Sarah and Kate, and they were watching a “Time Trouble” theatre show which was apparently utterly bonkers, so we joined them, then wandered over to the Riffs stage where NOT JUST BUSINESS were rounding off their energetic, No Doubt-influenced pop set. THE SHUDDERS were next up at 2.20, only running 20 minutes late, a vast improvement from last year, so we took our places as the mid-afternoon sun emerged to welcome them. Introduced onstage as a “metal folk” band, which Liam quickly corrected to “thrash folk”, they played ostensibly the same set as their show last Saturday, albeit sounding better, more practiced and assured, and with a considerably improved sound in the inflatable stage (although Tim had suggested it would be like playing in a bouncy castle, and hoped the moorings held as he didn’t fancy playing a set floating 200 feet above the field!). Again, “Mary’s Grace” was a nice slow-burn vibe soundtrack to a sunny afternoon, and the singalong “Better Off Dead” was a well-played mid-set highlight. Logan and Kasey popped down the front for some dancing (including some incongruous breakdancing from Logan !) for the final 2 numbers “Words Of A Fool” and “Lost And Broke”, again Irish folk-tinged and fiddly-diddly fun.

Hung out awhile before we took a wander to the helter skelter for Logan , then poked around the stalls (including Nina’s beads stall, manned by the entire Prothero family!) while SLAGERIJ played a noisy, bolshy ska-punk set which drew a big crowd. Had a wander into the Lawn for ice cream afterwards, while SWINDON SAMBA plied their drumbeat dance on the Main Stage, then decided to call it a day about 4.30, as Logan and Kasey were getting a little hyper and tired respectively, and Evan and I had a Cinema appointment. I’d have liked to gotten more out of the day, but parenthood decided otherwise. Nevertheless, we all enjoyed our sampling of what seemed another fun and successful event!

824 FOO FIGHTERS, Biffy Clyro, Jimmy Eat World, Hot Rats, Milton Keynes National Bowl, Sunday 3 July 2011

2011-07-05T20:16:00.002+01:00

A real first, this one; the first time Rachel and I have dumped the kids with the Grandparents overnight, and pissed off to an all-day show! Honestly, we couldn’t resist this bill; I was interested in seeing the genre-defining Foo Fighters, the epitome of a modern “rock” band, again, after an absence from my gig schedule of 8 1/2 years, and having missed out on their intriguing “in the round” Wembley Stadium shows 3 years ago. However when Rachel’s current band crush Biffy Clyro and our enduring post-emo “live” faves Jimmy Eat World were added to the Sunday undercard of their 2 day MK Bowl mini-residency, I snapped up tix pronto, for what promised to be a good and proper grunting rock pig day!

Considering our experiences for the Green Day MK gig a few years back (easy in, easy out of MK but then stuck in the middle of the countryside at midnight, home for 2.30) we tried a different tack. So we dropped the kids off at midday, and drove in from the A5 North, encountering a bit of queuing traffic in but parking up in the splendidly named Teardrops Car Park, about 15 minutes North of the Bowl, hitting the already-heaving bowl at 2.30. The first thing to note was that the stage-front “Golden Circle” was not only massive, swallowing most of the bowl floor, but also already full and with huge immovable queues waiting, likely in vain, for entry wristbands! Sod that, we thought…

So we sat on the hill, chilled and chatted, then had a walk to get Rach’s traditional first band beer. BOB MOULD, yes, even he, was DJ-ing, set up on one side of the stage and on the big screens, bopping along to some Hi-Nrg dance. Bob playing dance? That… makes no sense at all! Nevertheless, we got Rach’s beer and a better viewing position, on the slope left of stage (in front of a bloke who thought that putting a couple of empty bottles down guaranteed he had sole right to a goodly chunk of the slope!), for HOT RATS, first band at 4.30. An interesting concept, this; 2/3rds of Supergrass, including mainman Gaz Coombes, playing covers of their favourite material and influential oldies. When the stuff was intrinsically rocking (as in Bowie’s swaggering “Queen Bitch”) this worked, but other songs, like the Doors’ sublime “The Crystal Ship”, were handled too roughly. Even the Cure’s “Lovecats”, a song I don’t really like, was stomped all over with big Britpop Doc Martens, and I got the feeling this was overall a surprising waste of their time and talent. At barely 20 minutes, the set was short, too…

We wandered onto the bowl floor, with Bob back on the decks – as he was between all sets – and playing better and more representative disks, including Magnapop’s excellent “Lay It Down”, although he sadly resisted playing air guitar during Dinosaur Jr’s “Freak Scene”! However, we turfed up 3 or 4 rows back from the “Golden Circle” barriers, which still seemed hundreds of yards away from the stage! JIMMY EAT WORLD wandered on, unheralded, 5 minutes early at 5.25, and with the minimum of fuss burst into “Bleed American”, seething and dynamic, raggedly played and by no means note perfect, but thrilling as ever. Even better was to follow, as they were immediately into “A Praise Chorus”, my favourite number, fulsome and epic in its’ sweeping drama, and, with the sun breaking through the soft cloud cover for the first time this afternoon right on cue for the “crimson and clover” hook, as emotive and brilliant as ever. “God damn!” remarked Jim at the song’s conclusion, and I knew how he felt.

This evening, Jimmy Eat World were on fire. A band in a hurry, nary pausing for breath between each number, delivering a performance of sweaty, raw, slightly ragged but brilliantly thrilling rock of the first water. An unexpected but incendiary “Blister” was all seething power, followed by a strident singalong “Work” for a mid-set double-header highlight. “This is a dance number, so feel free to, y’know, partner up,” suggested Jim before the irresistibly catchy powerpop of “The Middle”. Then, all too soon, the “whoa-oh” of “Sweetness” heralded the end of a lightning-fast but utterly superb rock set.

Time for a breather then? Wrong! We took a walk to the back for a loo break, only to find the walkway even more crowded than down the “front” for Jimmy Eat World! Mental! We could only surmise that the huge “Golden Circle”, combined with two massive beer tents on the bowl floor, one each side of the stage, had significantly reduced the floor space whilst retaining the same capacity. Bah! We ended up snaking back through the woods fringing the back of the bowl, finding a good viewing spot on the hill, stage right, for BIFFY CLYRO, on at 6.45. A riot of noise and colour, they were also “on it” from the outset, mobile and kinetic, the sound much better on the hill than on the floor, blasting through a strident early “Golden Rule”, all drumbeat and drama, purposeful and pounding. A slow-burn singalong “God And Satan” built to a huge choral climax, whilst “Who’s Got A Match” showed a decided Seafood/Sonic Youth vicious guitar attack, jagged riffs strafing the crowd, and overall their confident display gave the impression it won’t be too long before they’re headlining here in their own right. Their best number, “Bubbles” echoed from all sides of this huge amphitheatre, before the lighters-aloft “Many Of Horror” precipitated a jagged and crushing closing “Mountains”, closing out a damn fine set from a band I’m really warming to. Mon the Biff!

So, there we stayed as dusk fell and DJ Bob Mould succumbed to temptation, playing Sugar’s “A Good Idea”. The witching hour nevertheless came quickly, and promptly at 8.15, with no entrance music or introduction, Dave Grohl raced onstage and down the runway joining the stage to the mixing desk set-up, about a hundred yards into the mosh, like some demented dog finally set loose. The rest of THE FOO FIGHTERS followed onstage, kicking in to savage opener “Bridges Burning”, the opening track to their current “Wasting Light” album, easily their best and most consistent since 1996’s classic “The Colour And the Shape”. And we were away…

Similar to their obvious antecedents Husker Du, Foo Fighters music primarily comes in 2 different digestible packages; the balls-out, amphetamine fast straight-ahead rocker with strident, yell-along chorus and a nevertheless melodic edge; and the thicker, mid-paced yet more anthemic moshpit sing-along. Both were fully in evidence tonight early doors; an immense “Pretender” saw 67,000 arms aloft pointing “who are you??” towards the stage, and the subsequent “My Hero” was off-kilter, strident and if anything even huger, a crescendo of noise and strobe.

“There sure are a whole fucking lot of you out there,” said Grohl, before a comedy monologue (including calling Foo Fighters gig virgins “nerds”, but then saying, “that’s ok, we used to suck but now we’re rad!”) which essentially told us he was going to skip the comedy monologues and concentrate on the rock! This was an occasionally odd performance from the widely acknowledged “nicest man in rock”; without the natural swagger or stage charisma of, say, Green Day’s Billie Joe Armstrong, Grohl seemed to feel the need to augment his usual open and enthusiastic persona with some Denis Leary-esque dialogue and antics. This was nevertheless entertaining, as was the rock: “this one’s for the crazy motherfucker in the boat,” he shouted to a crowdsurfer in a rubber dinghy (!) by way of intro for “White Limo”; a huge cheer followed him downing a beer in one during an elongated note at the start of the excellent “Arlandria”; and another scamper down the runway saw him appear on a little stage behind the mixing desk during “Stacked Actors” for a riffery shoot-out with his onstage guitarist, via the big screen.

The sublime “Walk”, possibly their best number since “Everlong”, followed, then the debt to Husker Du was acknowledged by a warm introduction of today’s DJ, “the genius that is Bob Mould”, onstage for “Dear Rosemary”, Grohl also admitting “we wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for this man”. Mould, humble as ever, nevertheless prowled the stage like he owned it, battering his Fender and growling his lines with his usual startling conviction during this brilliant rendition. A pregnant pause halted the subsequent “Monkey Wrench” as Grohl announced, “this is the part of the song where I scream until I see stars and feel like I’m gonna fall over,” before doing just that. Then, after a quick loo break for us, the lengthy “whoa-oh”s at the end of “Best Of You” saw Grohl cracking a huge grin, before a powerful “All My Life” rounded the set off.

Grohl once again took the small mixing desk stage for the encore, delivering a solo “Wheels” as night fell, before taking the stage again during “Times Like These”. Unlike the previous night, we didn’t get Alice Cooper as a guest, making do with Seasick Steve for a nondescript blues jam (hey, I’m psyched for his success, but his primitive blues doesn’t float my boat). We did, however, get a savage “This Is A Call” before Grohl, now back to his Mr. Nice Guy self, gushingly complimented us all prior to a final “Everlong”. We’d known this was the final number, and debated missing it to get a flyer and avoid the traffic, but that would have been, as Rach put it, “like going to Egypt and not seeing the Pyramids”. So we stayed, and she was right; my word, it was mighty! A lighters-aloft, robust and powerful as all hell run-through of their finest moment, with a delicious mid-song pregnant pause and a massive climax, the perfect way to end a great set, with fireworks accompanying our sprint back to the car.

So, 3 fine rock bands all delivered on the big day, with hardly a scrap of paper between them for top act. I’m still undecided about that! However the different tack worked a treat, as we left the arena on “Everlong”s last note, on the stroke of 11, and blasted back largely unencumbered, getting home for 12.30! A perfect result, to end a great day out!

823 THE SHUDDERS, Swindon Town Centre, outside Debenhams, Saturday 2 July 2011

2011-07-02T21:25:00.001+01:00

A sampler for next week’s Swindon “Big Arts Day”, this; billed as “Mini Arts Day” in the town centre, this event featured various music and dance performances throughout the afternoon on a small temporary stage and performance area, one of which was Tim’s band The Shudders! We actually hadn’t intended to go along for this, but we saw the stage during a morning trip into town, and this enthused our 4 year old Logan into wanting to, “see Uncle Tim play guitar,” rather than go to Wroughton Carnival, which was the plan!

So we popped back into town at 2.30, parking and wandering around to hang out with Tim, the Shudders, friends, girlfriends and offspring! The band took the stage at 2.45 to the friendly and curious, a full band for the first time in ages following drummer Alan’s return to the fold after becoming a dad (congrats, big guy!). Unfortunately, the sound was dreadfully tinny and thin, plaguing them throughout; indeed, after 1 song I turned to Rach and said, “they sound like they’re playing in a tin can,” to which her reply, referring to the temporary open-sided van-style stage was, “well they are, kinda!” Hmmm, not wrong…

Nevertheless, the boys soldiered on, with their usual self-deprecating humour and improving stage presence ultimately winning out over the poor but improving sound. A lovely, slow burn “Mary’s Grace” was given an extra dimension with the drums, fuelling the songs mood changes splendidly, and the equally understated “Sunflower” cut a beautifully hazy mid afternoon vibe. A couple of their more upbeat, jig-along numbers rounded off a fine set, and saw me dancing down the front first with Logan and then Kasey, in between loo breaks for the kids; “Words Of A Fool” a breathless C86 strumalong, and “Lost And Broke” a fine rootsy folk romp, the distillation of their “Pirate Folk” trademark sound.

So, a nice way to spend the afternoon with good friends and good music, a useful warm up for The Shudders’ “Big Arts Day” set next weekend, and a nice lead-in to this weekend’s big outdoor gig for Rach and myself. That one comes tomorrow…

822 SIMPLE MINDS, James Walsh, Westonbirt Arboretum, Friday 17 June 2011

2011-06-18T20:17:00.002+01:00

Seeing Ex-Simple Minds last year, whilst being a thrilling nostalgia jaunt through the innovative, cutting edge early material of one of my favourite post-punk bands, also whetted my appetite for seeing the “real thing”, as it were, potential stadium rock excess and all. So when a Simple Minds date was announced as part of nearby Westonbirt Arboretum’s run of open-air Summer shows, I snapped up a ticket pretty much immediately, ultimately persuading a couple of work colleagues into coming along too.

So it was that I drove down with my former boss Bob, who could count the gigs he’d been to on the fingers of one hand, but one of which, impressively, had been The Beatles and Tyrannosaurus Rex! I’d also done my research; firstly, I’d checked out recent set-lists from the Minds’ forest jaunt thus far, and whilst lightning hadn’t struck twice, Adam Ant-wise, there was a small smattering of pre-hit material to really pique my interest, along with a Glittering Prize of a “New Gold Dream”-centric set climax to look forward to. Also, I’d checked the weather for this open-air affair, and the only disagreement between weather websites was when the heavy rain was going to hit, not if! So, fully prepared, we arrived easily at 7 after a quick cross country run, finding a nice compact venue site skirted by trees, and thankfully only drizzly rather than persistent, as we hit the beer tent!

Took a wander forward for support James Walsh, whom I’m convinced is a Rain God, given that the only time I’d seen his previous charges Starsailor, at Fleadh 2001, it had pissed down too! He took the stage to increasing drizzle, having an invidious task in warming up the slightly sodden early arrivals. However he set to it with gusto, with pumping beatbox, chiming acoustic guitar and occasional keyboard colour, and a plaintive, keening voice. “Follow the man possessed by a storm”, was a prophetic early lyric, as Walsh alternated between more morose but recognisable Starsailor oldies entirely appropriate for the slate grey conditions, and more chipper newies. “Four To The Floor” and an almost jolly “Good Souls” were highlights of a quietly impressive support set.

Ran into one of my brother’s bandmates for a chat, then colleague Mairi and hubby by the beer tent, before the Minds early entrance music wrong-footed us and saw us striding purposefully to the front for their early arrival, just before 9, with a bombastic “Moscow Underground”, which segued into a fist-pumping, anthemic “Waterfront”. The early set took the expected route, mainly drawing on material from their mid-80’s “Stadium Rock” albums, “Sparkle In The Rain” and “Once Upon A Time”, when they moved away from their dazzling, synth driven cutting edge groove, and into more expansive, radio friendly material. However the Krautrock-influenced “Sons And Fascination” got me moving, and I gleefully anticipated the clattering industrial robotic dance of “Celebrate”, next up. Unfortunately, this was disappointingly thin-sounding in the open air, and I feared for my interest level, thinking this was as good as it was going to get.

However the unmistakable synth pulse of a totally unexpected “Love Song” started up, and I was utterly sold. This was brilliant, easily the set highlight, and they had me after that. “You’re not too cold, not too wet, we’re not too old, are we?” asked Jim Kerr before a fine “Hunter And The Hunted”, and true enough, he gave an energetic performance of his expansive dance style which belied his years. Despite the false start, the slow-burn “Someone Somewhere In Summertime” was as sparkling as ever, heralding a “New Gold Dream”-heavy denouement, taking in a heavy but sharply short shower during “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” – “rain keeps falling down”, indeed! - and climaxing in the title track of that breakthrough album.

A final encore “Ghostdancing”, which I’d forgotten appropriated the first line of the sadly absent “I Travel”, segued into a singalong cover medley of “Gloria” and Talking Heads’ “Take Me To The River”, capping an entirely worthwhile actually near-2 hour set (a frankly dull “Mandela Day” notwithstanding!). “We’ll be back again,” announced an achingly sincere Jim Kerr at the end. And, d’you know what, I might be as well!

821 CHEAP TRICK, Plead The Fifth, Bristol O2 Academy, Sunday 12 June 2011

2011-06-13T19:49:00.002+01:00

The retro June continues, with yet another band of old codgers (!); this time veteran powerpop boys Cheap Trick, exactly 7 months after their last UK outing, which itself followed an absence of 6 years! Nevertheless, da Trick are always great value and entertainment “live”, and even more so given this gig would be the first time (in 7) that I’d seen these grizzled US rock long-stayers outside of London! I’d booked this one some time ago for Rach and myself, but then The Wild Swans gig was added to the Rose itinerary, and Rach decided she couldn’t really do both. Luckily similar old rocker Beef stepped in at short notice, so he and I bopped down to Brizzle in the drizzle.

Hit the venue just after 8; a disappointingly low early turnout of the usual
ranks of hoary old rock casualties and medieval roadie types for da Trick. Nevertheless, we early comers were treated to a support slot from ridiculously young ruffians Plead The Fifth. Whilst quite enjoying their spunky powerpop thrills, which I found similar to The Click Five whilst also skirting around Orange County nu-punk/emo territory , Beef and I also noted that the bouffant-haired bassist and the bespectacled drummer looked like quite like me and him, 30 years ago!

We got a drink in, then resumed our good viewing spot, stage right for once (!), for the entrance of da Trick at 9 pm. Again, the cut-up intro tape featured Homer Simpson and Apoo extolling the virtues of this classic band, before a young female voice announced, “please welcome to the stage the greatest fucking rock’n’roll band you’ll ever see… Cheap Trick!” By this time the venue had filled up, although was by no means full, but da Trick received a rapturous welcome as they burst full-on into the chugging badass boogie of “Just Got Back”. Vocalist Robin Zander, resplendent in embroidered military jacket which was soon discarded to reveal a black wet-look shirt, and a black general’s peaked cap which remained in situ throughout, was on top form from the outset, stretching his elastic larynx through an excellent early “California Man”, then the outstanding, definitive descending-bassline driven, “I Want You To Want Me”, which was an early set highlight.

“We’ve written this set-list especially for…you!” announced the supreme showman and band leader, guitarist Rick Nielsen, showering guitar picks as usual into the appreciative audience, as they strode through soaring new power ballad “These Days”. Similar lighters-held-aloft classic “Tonight It’s You” was superb, the hook as big as the venue, and subsequent “On Top Of The World” was an unexpected slab of mutant surf rock, rounding off an opening half hour of old-school rock and powerpop as good as they’ve ever delivered.

The band then introduced their European Fan-club Chairman onstage, who took the opportunity to propose to his girlfriend – sorry mate, we did that 7 years ago! For me, the set wavered thereafter, whilst still maintaining it’s muscular power and pace and trademark grand, if slightly overblown and preposterous, rock riffs and huge choruses. However set closer and all-time powerpop classic “Surrender”, with its’ helium hookline and strident singalong outro, saw them roaring back with a vengeance, and encores “Dream Police” (always a favourite of mine to shout along to), a rocking “Clock Strikes Ten” and “Goodnight Ladies And Gentlemen” put the exclamation point on a 1 ½ hour set of fine pure old school rock.

Grabbed another set-list to make my evening. Another great retro June night, thanks to Cheap Trick!

820 THE WILD SWANS, Bristol Thekla, Thursday 9 June 2011

2011-06-13T19:45:00.003+01:00

The retro June continues, and here’s another welcome reunion resulting in another eagerly anticipated gig. The Wild Swans, who as support act of my second ever gig made an indelible impression on my 16 year old mind with a stunning set of sweeping power, followed it up with easily the best single for the following year in “Revolutionary Spirit” – hell, still one of the best singles EVER – and, following an early 80’s hiatus, established themselves as a mid-80’s “live” favourite with an all-too-brief reprise, during which time I became a familiar face at their shows for vocalist and visionary Paul Simpson, who was nevertheless friendly and open each time I met him. The true “lost” band from that storied and mythical Liverpool Bunnymen/ Teardrops 80’s scene, the band with the vision, scale and talent to have assumed stadium level popularity, who were instead consigned to hushed, dusty half whispered legend. Until…

Scarcely-believable rumours of a Wild Swans reunion show at the back end of 2008 nearly saw me consider hot-footing it up to Liverpool , but t’was not to be. Nevertheless, they followed up these (very) low-key live shows with a couple of single releases, then, this year, a full length CD and a mini tour, choosing the Thekla, increasingly one of my favourite venues given that this “dirty boat” literally oozes the distilled essence of rock’n’roll, as a near-perfect venue for their scattergun vision of a run-down yet heroic England, where giants and mythical beasts still bestride these emerald Elysian fields. I booked tickets immediately and persuaded Rachel to forego Sunday’s gig to join me (Cheap Trick? Seen them before!!).

The best laid plans were however put into absolute panic when we couldn’t find Baa, our little daughter's favourite cuddly toy, to give to her before bedtime. A frantic last-minute turning the house upside down couldn’t reveal her whereabouts, so we set off late, flustered and worried about our daughter settling down with Grandma. Nevertheless, there’s a gig to go to, and we arrived at the “dirty boat” at 8, parking outside and wandering into the sparsely populated hold just as the support were rounding off their innocuous girly set.

Saw a familiar rakish figure snaking through the venue, dressed incredibly dapper in a dark cut suit, but before I wandered over to talk to Paul Simpson (for t’was he), I ran into old friend Craig, over from Cardiff for the show! Caught up thereafter with Simmo, who after a little prompting, apparently remembered me from my 80’s pursuits of The Wild Swans, and gave me a hug which was unexpected but welcome. A quick chat revealed his enthusiasm for the 2011 incarnation of his band, so we took a walk down the front for their early arrival at 8.30.

The Wild Swans took the stage to a still-sparse but loyal crowd, easing into their set with opener “Falling To Bits”, the melodic and evocative opener to their new album “The Coldest Winder For A Hundred Years”. The sound seemed a little off from the outset, particularly feeding back through the rhythm guitarist throughout, but this seemed not to rattle their onstage insouciance. Rather they took heart, with an understated, restrained yet supremely melodic show of craftsmanship. Simmo had made reference earlier on to suffering throat problems, sipping honey and lemon from a pint glass onstage, but his deep baritone was nevertheless rich and resonant, albeit also restrained and controlled. A heroic “Archangels” was brilliantly evocative, an early set highlight, and newie “Bluebell Wood” saw Craig bantering with an affable Simmo about a Waitrose token (!). After a lovely “Now And Forever”, the set built to a glittering climax with a wonderfully discordant “God Forbid” (introduced by Simmo as, “a new one”; hah!), Simmo understandably keeping his voice one octave lower than usual vocal line for protection. “No Bleeding” followed, as heartcrackingly emotive as ever, Simmo finally freeing his vocals to truly soar authoritatively, and the wonderful keyboard outro made this a true highlight of the night.

Then finally “Revolutionary Spirit”, possibly the greatest single of all time, a soaring plangent thing of melodic beauty, the band doing its’ extraordinary widescreen breadth and sweeping expanse full justice, and if Simmo over-egged the final chorus with an extra line, we can excuse him that for being so wrapped up in the moment. Brilliant stuff.

They stayed on then for an “encore” of “ Tangerine Temple ” before an actual encore of the uncharacteristic baggy dance anthem “Melting Blue Delicious”, Simmo abandoning the stage and joining us on the floor to deservedly applaud his own band after a remarkable resurrection.

Time to chat quickly afterwards, including a few words with bassist and former long-time Bunnyman Les Pattinson, and some words of gratitude with Simmo himself. We parted with his words, “don't leave it so long next time - well, I guess that’s up to me, isn't it?” That’s right, Simmo! A chat with Craig before setting off capped a brilliant night off wonderfully well too.

And after another exhaustive search when we got home, we managed to find Baa, so everything ended perfectly!

819 THIN LIZZY, The Union, Swindon MECA (Music and Entertainment Cultural Arena), Thursday 2 June 2011

2011-06-04T20:02:00.001+01:00

Shall I tell my Phil Lynott story? Okay, here goes… as a skinny little early teen, I whiled away many a balmy Summer evening hanging out on Swindon Railway Station; yes, it’s true, I was a teenage trainspotter! Anyway, one such Summer eve, a train pulled in and the first class compartment slowed to a stop next to my seat. Through the window I could see the occupants, and recognised one; a wiry leather spray-clad man with a candyfloss puff of jet black hair, and a gorgeous and nubile blonde draped provocatively over him. I reached for my notebook and scribbled, “are you Phil Lynott?” on it, pressing it up to the carriage window. This elicited a nod and a thumbs-up, and I then wrote, “thought so” and held that up, to general hilarity from the great man.

I recalled that, when I’d heard that the next MECA rock booking was Thin Lizzy, Lynott’s classic 70’s rock band, a band which, more so than any other 70’s “rock” group, had an affinity with the burgeoning punk movement, Lynott hanging out with the Sex Pistols back in the day. As a result, I’d always admired them (even before my meeting with Phil!) without being a huge fan. I took a late shout on this one, however, given my Ant-ics the previous night, and also with trepidation that without Phil, sadly 25 years gone now, it just wouldn’t be the same... nevertheless, I drove up about 8.30, paying on the door and hitting the amply-filled venue while support band The Union were on. A gang of old rockers, they played some formulaic hard rock and occasional power balladry, which nevertheless went down well with the crowd of similar old rockers and middle-aged couples revisiting their wild youth, and which was alright for what it was.

Chatted with an old friend at the bar, filling time usefully as Thin Lizzy kept us waiting for ¾ hour! Yipe! Eventually, they emerged at 9.45, a 6-piece comprising 3 “original” members from their halcyon 70’s days, and 3 younger “guest” performers, bedecked in de rigeur rock hair, sleeveless shirts and full body tattooing. They played it hard and heavy from the outset, with a rocking opening number similar to Cheap Trick’s “Good Evening Ladies And Gentlemen”, not the only similarity in evidence tonight to a Trick gig!

Despite appearances, the “new” guys were nothing if not authentic; Guns & Roses lead guitar man Richard Fortus did a fine job of replicating the late Gary Moore’s snaking power-chord riffery, and dovetailed very well with “original” member Scott Gorham. Vocalist Ricky Warwick, of The Almighty, had the most unenviable task, and whilst not able to replicate Lynott’s smooth, smoky voice, did an admirable job of emulating his laid back and laconic, almost conversational vocal style. He also admirably deflected attention from himself to focus on the Lizzy legend (“I thought I’d gathered some rock’n’roll stories in 24 years – then I had a call to join the greatest rock’n’roll band in the world! It took me half a second to say yes and pick myself up off the floor…”), in a similar vein to Mike Peters’ Big Country appearance. An early, stomping “Do Anything You Wanna Do” was a highlight until a strident, powerful and lengthy “Whisky In The Jar” became a swelling terrace chant which filled the venue. I could have done without the drum solo during “Sha La La La”, but a roaring final “Boys Are Back In Town”, an octane-fuelled tale of male camaraderie, and an indisputable all-time classic deserving of it’s place at rock’s top table, more than made up for it.

A couple of encores (including a fine and sinewy “Rosalie” - I was amazed throughout at how many Lizzy numbers I knew, and how well I knew them!) capped a fine performance and a thoroughly enjoyable gig. Despite not being my usual thing, I’ve travelled a whole lot further to go to worse gigs this year! Nice one, chaps.

818 ADAM ANT AND THE GOOD, THE MAD AND THE LOVELY POSSE, Krakatoa, Dressing For Pleasure, Birmingham O2 Academy, Wednesday 1 June 2011

2011-06-02T19:45:00.005+01:00

Adam Ant? Adam frickin' Ant???? Oh yes. This was a gig I totally jumped all over as soon as I found out about it, so I could revisit one of my earliest musical icons. As a 15 year old fledgling punk rocker, I whiled away many a lazy hazy drunken Summer evening down the park with a gang of punks, copious bottles of Merrydown cider and Adam And The Ants as a musical backdrop. Really early stuff as well; not just “Dirk Wears White Sox”, their sleazy, sexy pseudo-glam punk first album, but Ant songs predating that, songs celebrating the perverse and different, songs which never saw the light of officially recorded day until a few popped up, also quite perversely, on the “B” sides of the big hits. I was an Ant fan on the ground floor, me! Unluckily, as soon as I was old enough to go to gigs, Adam Ant had “gone popular”; riding on the wave of “Stand And Deliver”, his first number one hit, he’d become a chameleonic new romantic pop idol, definitely not to my tastes. So there we’d parted, but I remembered my love of his old material…

Since those halcyon hit-strewn days, Adam had fallen on harder times, becoming a victim of changing musical/fashion tastes and suffering mental health issues, also sadly being arrested and sectioned on occasion. Thankfully, he’d emerged the other side, exorcised his ghosts in a splendid and frank autobiography, and decided to continue this recovery by getting back to performing “live”. I picked up on this recent burst of Ant activity at the end of last year, very nearly buying a ticket for one of his Xmas “World Tour of London” dates but blanching at the ticket price (£50? For the Electric Ballroom? Fuck that!). However a proper UK tour, apparently his first for 25 years, was just the ticket, and I sorted myself one for this Birmingham gig, the nearest the original slew of dates came to Swindon . Amazingly, I was on my own for this; despite doing some pre-gig research and finding, much to my utter delight, that the set was predominantly formed of the pre “Stand And Deliver” material of my hazy cider-fuelled mid-teens, I couldn’t persuade anyone to join me!

So, I hit the road at 5.30, full of anticipation but aware of previous issues with getting to this venue. However I needn’t have worried as this, a new location for Birmingham ’s O2 Academy, was easy to get to and park up for. So I hit the gig, already utterly heaving with old punks, middle aged housewives with white stripes across their noses and the generally curious, at 7.30 in time for openers Dressing For Pleasure. A 3-piece featuring 2 sisters playing at burlesque dress-up and a stand-up bloke drummer, they played a thrashy garage blare, with their cover of The Clash’s “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” poor but easily the best number they inflicted on us in their thankfully short set. From Birmingham , apparently, although still largely ignored! Main support Krakatoa were better; a group of young Cockneys mining a similar garagey vein, but with more Modish, Who leanings, and some occasional bluebeat thrown in. Another cover, Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody To Love”, was their best number too. I‘ve seen worse support bands; the first lot, for starters…

The crowd anticipation was palpable as we awaited the entrance of Adam; a huge “Antmusic For Sexpeople” backdrop and the double-drumkit set-up of old filled the stage. The place was old-school packed – not an inch to wiggle as I found a tiny and breathless viewing spot a few rows back, stage left. After a seemingly interminable wait, the band came on at the appointed hour and eased into the grungey, riff-heavy opening bars of “Plastic Surgery”. Then Adam emerged, dressed in a British Hussar’s gold rope embellished jacket and plumed pirate hat, pencil moustache and large glasses, looking for all the world 20 years younger than his actual 56 (!), as the opening number soared into punk-rock full-speed, Adam already yelping in his instantly recognisable vocal style.

The drums hit overload for “Dog Eat Dog” as I eased forward, and by the opening bars of “Beat My Guest”, a brilliant amphetamine-fast punk celebration of Sado-Masochism, I was in the mosh down the front, bashing away furiously and screaming the lyric for all I was worth, a 15 year old punk rocker again. A brilliant sequence followed; “Kick”, a furious manifesto, the jaunty and wonderfully singalong “Cartrouble”, then an awesome “Zerox”, easing in with its’ pin-picked opening riff then building throughout to an all-too short final strident crescendo of noise. Simply stunning stuff.

“This song is when I jumped out of the window and everything changed,” Adam announced as “Stand And Deliver” kicked in, igniting the housewives and still sounding, well, pretty good actually, for his “watershed” pop number. “Catholic Day” followed, Adam mischievously miming both the shooter and victim in this old number about the Kennedy assassination. Then a serious moment as Adam introduced the image-defining “Kings Of The Wild Frontier” as, “I mean every word of this song, I nearly died for this”. Full-on Burundi-style double drumbeats and Native American chanting made for an all-encompassing set highlight. “A new Royal Family, a wild nobility…” indeed!

Adam, by now relaxed and in good fooling, with a swish and a swagger to his riveting and energetic performance totally belying his years, casually stated, “another hit single then? Why not? I dunno, guys playing stadiums after 2 hits; you’re having a laugh, right? I worked for this!” before a singalong “Antmusic”. Then after some Johnny Thunders stories, a dedication of “Cleopatra” for Elizabeth Taylor and featuring some more teasing (“you know what it’s about, right”) and some choice words about Bono and U2 (“you want to see a hundred foot spider? Bollocks!”), a fantastic, Carry-on saucy “Lady” segued into a frantic, powerful “Fall In” to end a pretty damn near perfect set. A couple of encores, sadly omitting “Press Darlings” but featuring a fun, throwaway “A.N.T.S”, his own version of “YMCA”, and a speeded-up “Physical”, performed by a by-now shirtless Adam, rounded off a breathless, fucking lightning-quick 1 ¾ hours. Where the hell did that time go??!

I collected my thoughts (and a set-list – yay!) before realising I’d taken a total pounding and had been feeling sick for about the last half-hour, nevertheless toughing it out to suck out the max from this one. I’d been eagerly anticipating this gig since discovering Adam’s set, perhaps unfairly so given Adam’s long lay-off and recent history of mental health issues; however he delivered in brilliant style, with a performance which stripped back the years and restored his icon to full radiance. This was fully all I’d hoped it could possibly be. Welcome back, Adam Ant!

817 THE MEN THEY COULDN’T HANG, Billy In The Lowground, The Shudders, Swindon 12 Bar, Friday 27 May 2011

2011-05-31T20:22:00.002+01:00

So politically-motivated yet supremely entertaining folk punk pioneers The Men they Couldn’t Hang, one of my 80’s “live” favourites, return for a 3rd time at the 12 Bar in as many years. This is getting as regular as Stiff Little Fingers at Bristol Academy in March – and as welcome! This one was also due to kick off a run of 5 hugely anticipated retro gigs in 4 weeks; this lot, then Adam Ant (!), The Wild Swans (!!), Cheap Trick and finally Simple Minds (!!!). I’m truly partying like it’s the 80’s all over again…

So I hit the deserted 12 Bar at 8ish to hang out with Tim, Liam, Danny and Ellen, and meet Tim’s new girlfriend Tracey! After hearing Tim’s broken hand sob story (Tim being reduced to tambourine duties tonight!), the Shudders trio then went off to soundcheck, leaving me in charge of the girls (hah!), before we joined them in the still-deserted back room for their anticipated 8.30 start. However, a delayed and problematic soundcheck, caused by a late soundman replacement, bumped the set start to 8.45, and the sound problems persisted into their set, with appalling feedback initially through Danny’s mic, and then constantly through The Men’s bass drum set-up, plaguing them throughout. A shame, as this was another nice little stripped-back acoustic set, an approach which, for me, increasingly suits their odd little folky whimsy and hushed, understated harmonies. A couple of duskier, countrified slow burners also continue to hint at a new facet to a band I took time to warm to, but am increasingly enjoying seeing “live”. This of course despite having to kiss Liam before he went onstage so he didn’t feel left out!

The boys showed up at the end of the Shudders set, so we hung out in the back bar in favour of the main support Billy In The Lowground , a gathering of hoary old pub rock choresmen playing nondescript and meandering fiddly diddly stuff, with their mum seemingly on fiddle duties. Chilled and reminisced about the TTP days while BITL played on… and on! Eventually they cleared off so we headed back into the by-now amply attended venue for the Men’s entrance, late on at 10.15. The poor sound was still in evidence, with the Men’s opening few numbers beset with shimmering drum feedback, although the band did their best to plough through and ignite an initially reticent crowd. “Cable Street” got myself and Phil singing along and jigging down the front, although the first half overall seemed somewhat flat in comparison to their recent sets (the usual chilling “Shirt of Blue”, accompanied by some welcome anti-Cameron ranting from Cush, notwithstanding), and it wasn’t until Swill’s rousing acapella sea shanty “Barrett’s Privateer” (which followed a lovely solo “Parted From You”, introduced by Swill as, “one we’ve never played in Swindon before”) that the crowd really joined in the singalongs. Thereafter, it was much more like it, as The Men, feeding off the renewed enthusiasm, cranked up the commitment levels with a swaggering “Smugglers” and an inclusive, sway-along “Bells”. They ran over time again (damn BITL!), but this time got a wonderfully raucous “Ironmasters” in, before totally ignoring the curfew and playing on until 11.45! A final “Night To Remember” rounded off another ultimately worthwhile – if late - TMTCH set. I hope they don’t fall victim to the law of diminishing returns, as, so far as I’m concerned, they’re welcome to come back to Swindon as often as they like!

816 GRANT LEE BUFFALO, London Royal Festival Hall, Wednesday 18 May 2011

2011-05-19T19:39:00.002+01:00

After a disappointing alt-Country excursion to London last time out, I was looking for better from this one, a rare show from one of the progenitors of said genre, Grant Lee Buffalo. A band that’d dazzled me at Reading Festival 1993 with a Sunday opening set of shimmering and very loud acoustic angst, plus another set later that day (!), both based on their raw, stripped-back yet eminently listenable debut CD “Fuzzy”, I’d then accumulated their subsequent 3 CDs with admittedly diminishing interest, and managed to remain oblivious to any live outings since then! However, after very nearly joining Tim a couple of years back to see mainman Grant Lee Phillips do his solo thang at Bush Hall, I happily volunteered to join him and pretty much the entire Moody family, for this “reunion” performance.

Tim, Ellen and I set off at 5 pm for an entertaining drive to Hammersmith, parking up at 7, meeting car 2 then tubing to Embankment, crossing the river and hitting this grand venue just in time to miss the support act, which irked Tim a little. The crew then left me as I’d booked my seat after theirs, so I was Billy No-Mates in my seat! Ran into London friend Lisa – oddly enough, whilst leaving her a message on her phone! – and caught up, before taking my Upper Stalls seat (actually fairly near where Evan and I had sat for They Might Be Giants!) in good time for Grant lee Buffalo’s unfeasibly early entrance at 8.30.

The band – the original trio for this reunion date – were led onstage by Grant lee Phillips, kicking into opener “The Shining Hour”, from that old “Fuzzy” CD, much more strident, drum-dominated and squally, almost Velvet Underground-like, than the acoustic-led strumalong CD version. A touching “I Wish You Well” followed, before Phillips announced the band were, “like some strange comet that comes around every 15 years, bringing pestilence and turbulence in its wake!” Hmm, no wonder I hadn’t seen them since Reading 1993… A superb reading of the self-labelled “politically tinged romantic ballad”, “Jupiter And Teardrop” was up next, setting the tone for their set. Evoking a similar version of Americana to Sparklehorse, a landscape of wide skies, deserts, canyons, outcrops and buttes, ramshackle truckstops and telegraph poles stretching into the distance, they nevertheless eschew the Hoss’ deathly hush in favour of charming acoustic-powered brain-hugging earworm hooks and thrilling squally cacophony, often in the same song! Tonight was a gift for the aficionados, Phillips and co. playing songs they themselves loved, the opening bars of each number greeted with applause, and Phillips, clearly psyched to be here and an excellent, intelligent and witty between-song orator throughout, embellishing the very fine material perfectly with his stretched nasal tones, which always puts me in mind of Mike Scott, of 80’s stadium folkies The Waterboys.

A final set-closing double of the strident, tumbling, Dylan-esque protest ballad “America Snoring”, introduced with some ironic observations on its’ relevance today by Phillips, and an octave-straddling “Fuzzy” were my set highlights, and an encore showcasing a deliciously slow-burn “The Hook” capped a splendid 1 ¾ hour performance, as good as they possibly could be and way better than I was hoping. Another chat with Lisa before hitting the road via a kebab shack in Hammersmith (!), to cap a great – if late – night out!

815 DRIVE BY TRUCKERS, Dan Michaelson and the Coastguards, London Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Thursday 5 May 2011

2011-05-09T21:31:00.001+01:00

Here’s another band that I found out about thanks to my “Uncut” subscription, and another one, like the Decemberists, that I was warned about! This warning came after picking up on a couple of tracks by this veteran Southern US Rock band, another name that had skirted around the periphery of my “wants” lists for a couple of years, on a couple of “Uncut” compilation CDs. One, “This Fucking Job”, was noisy, sleazy and chuntering bar-room blues, like a drawling, ‘baccy spitting Hold Steady, and the other, “Used To Be A Cop”, a deliciously macabre Violent Femmes-like dark introspective confessional. Recent 2 CDs and a ticket for tonight’s show sorted, I announced my findings to the world on facebook, whence Russ Hunt (yes even he) issued a health warning about their variable song quality. I should have heeded his words…

Anyway, I drove up to town at 6, finally giving both CDs a proper listen on the way and thinking, “hmmm, maybe Russ has a point…” Nevertheless, I was committed, and parked up at 8 in my usual spot, hitting the venue to catch most of the support slot from Dan Michaelson And The Coastguards. A young beardy chap with a very deep and resonant voice, recalling Leonard Cohen, fronted a similarly hirsute band playing some late night moody country which was plodding and insubstantial. I spent the time looking around the slowly filling venue at the audience, which was turning out to be comprised of virtually all beardy old blokes. Again, I felt very young!

The Truckers arrived at the appointed hour of 9, hefty and bearded vocalist Patterson Hood soaking in the ovation awhile, before opening their set with the octave-straddling “I Do Believe”, the fine opener to current moody, murder ballad-heavy CD “Go Go Boots”. Thence followed a couple of numbers of sprawling, menacing, swampy, slightly countrified but charged blues rock, hard rocking and powerful, alternating between Hood’s gulping drawl, and his skinny, raw-boned and rawer-voiced pard’ner Mike Cooley on vocals. At this point they were threatening to live up to their “Uncut” billing as a tremendous live act, said magazine promising that they’d unmoor the Empire off it’s foundations! Sure, the song quality was patchy, but some nice Doors-like organ embellishments and the sheer power of their performance was at this point raising them above the variable nature of their material.

“Used To Be A Cop” came early, seething with sleaze and personal despair, and Shonna Tucker took vocal chores to follow with a stark, desolate “Where’s Eddie”, her breathy Southern lilt almost Dolly Parton-like. However, just under an hour in, the set seriously drifted into pedal-steel trad country balladry and beer-soaked sludge, and my attention likewise seriously wandered. Fifteen minutes later they’d lost me totally, and I was at the back thinking about my forthcoming busy weekend, so, tiring and bored, left early.

Overall, a great start, but then a really pronounced drop-off. One great song doesn’t cut it for me any more, so sorry. Drive-By Truckers? Just not my thang, pard’ner.

814 THE BUZZCOCKS, The Computers, Charred Hearts, Swindon MECA (Music and Entertainment Cultural Arena), Friday 29 April 2011

2011-05-03T20:01:00.003+01:00

This one has a real sense of occasion to it; a first gig at the new Swindon Music and Entertainment Cultural Arena! The MECA, AKA the old bingo hall up the top of town that had lain derelict for years, had been gagging for all that time for someone to give it a fresh coat of paint, a new soundproofing layer and sound system, and turn it into a concert venue. Well guess what; someone did, namely Swin City and “Frequency” mastermind Steve Causer. Good on you, Steve!

This being the first actual “rock” gig at the venue, I was well up for it. This of course notwithstanding that on previous evidence 4 years ago or so, tonight’s hosts, original punk band the Buzzcocks, hadn’t aged anything like as well as some of their peers (Killing Joke, SLF, even The Damned). But hey, it’s only up the road, and I really need to get behind this venture, so why not? So, after a day spent eating BBQ food with good friends, I picked up a couple of them, namely Rich and Jase, and drove up, parking the car at 8.15 and popping into the venue as local band Charred Hearts were midway through their set. Of similar vintage to the Buzzcocks and similarly recently reformed, they played a buzzsaw ramalama punk set which was formulaic but exciting and sincere. A couple of namechecks for departed punk legends Poly Styrene (only last week, poor Poly) and Ari Up of The Slits (Buzzcocks’ support band on their last visit to Swindon – The Affair, 34 years ago!) went down well with the old punk audience too. They certainly left a better impression than tour support The Computers, a young bunch of arrogant chumps all in white, who played a tuneless set of thrash dirge and were kinetic but largely ignored. Guys, “intense” doesn’t mean screaming like a tarantula is biting your balls off!

Never mind, The Buzzcocks were up next and came on late but to a raucous reception from the expectant Swindon crowd. They fairly ripped into the set, with surprising opener “Boredom” from their first ever EP, followed with a thrilling “Fast Cars” and a superb “I Don’t Mind”. Despite Pete Shelley’s lilting, slightly effeminate vocals being already submerged in the mix, this was a great opening salvo; surely they couldn’t keep this up!

Actually, no. The set mid-section merged into a mulchy morass of indistinct guitar noise which even guitarist Steve Diggle’s rabble-rousing failed to rescue for me, although the mosh kept going enthusiastically throughout. However, the Buzzcocks finished strongly with a buzzing “Breakdown”, a soaring sing-along set highlight “Love You More”, and “Promises” and “What Do I Get”, which showcased their ear for easy catchy punk rock melody and aching lovelorn lyrical matter. A splendid 3-song encore salvo of the rockier, Diggle-led “Harmony In My Head”, the inevitable and manically-greeted “Ever Fallen in Love”, and a great final “Orgasm Addict”, rounded off a very worthy set overall. Thankfully, this time they’d left enough gas in the tank to do their final numbers justice.

Ran into Steve Causer on the way out who confirmed that the volume of punters through the door tonight had enabled them to break even, so hopefully this will be the first of many rock gig nights at the new MECA!

813 MILES HUNT & ERICA NOCKALLS, The Shudders, Swindon 12 Bar, Saturday 16 April 2011

2011-04-19T19:48:00.002+01:00

Here’s Swindon coming up trumps on the gig front for once; the first of 3 (maybe 4?) local gigs in the next 6 weeks, and a first performance for Miles Hunt in Swindon ! This consequently meant this was the first time, of the 18 or so I’ve seen him play in his various incarnations (Wonderstuff, Vent, solo or “Clubbing” it!), that we’ve been able to walk to the gig! Rachel booked this one as part of her birthday weekend celebrations, and we made more of an evening of it, setting off early and having a curry at the Lalbagh on the way!

Thus it was that we waddled the remainder of the journey there, stuffed with a lovely Jaipur, arriving at 8.30 and bumping into the Provs. Took a wander into the venue – which was oddly laid out with round tables around the perimeter, including a couple stage-front, giving it a weird wine bar appearance! – for The Shudders at 10 to 9. The boys had secured the much-vaunted support slot tonight and decided to debut their “acoustic” side. Perched on barstools, Tim, Danny and Liam gave a stripped-back performance of their understated, knockabout folky whimsy, with a few newer, more parched and slow-burn songs, which, unsurprisingly, recalled Sparklehorse! Their fine harmonies were much more prominent in this format, and some nice self-deprecating chat (“we’re just hoping you warm to us as people”) made for a fine set overall, despite a few nerves - Danny admitted afterwards that he was nervous performing as Miles was in the crowd, and only relaxed when he disappeared backstage to prepare for his set!

The ample crowd then gathered around the stage-front tables, and gave Miles and Erica an enthusiastic welcome at 9.45 following a short tune-up. Visually they were an incongruous sight; Miles, tousled shoulder-length hair now restored, clad all in denim with a jaunty necktie, cutting a raffish dash evoking a Victorian travelling troubadour rogue; and Erica, pale and porcelain perfect, all Goth prom queen chic in billowing black. Musically, however, they dovetailed perfectly, Erica’s accomplished violin work intertwining splendidly with Miles’ trusty old acoustic throughout the set. The opening half-set was drawn from their recent duet CDs, plus work with a loose Shropshire-based musicians collective, punctuated by Miles’ witty and erudite tales of life both in the Shropshire landed gentry, and of his rock experiences. Proving the apples don’t fall too far from the tree, this new material didn’t stray too far from Miles’ previous modus operandi of flippant conversational lyrical content and easy, catchy, if slightly rootsier and folkier melody, proving you can take the boy out of the Stuffies, but…! An early highlight, ”The Cake”, was preceded by a fun story involving cakes, credit cards and straws and the changing rock-tour usage of such (!), whilst “Welcome To The Cheap Seats”, the first Wonderstuff track of the night, followed Miles’ recalling his first, drunken, encounter with the late Kirsty MacColl.

Thereafter the set climaxed with a few well-chosen, primarily fiddle-based Wonderstuff numbers, with Miles, now very comfortable in his own skin in this format, taking requests and bantering with the vociferous crowd. A final “Here Comes Everyone”, my set highlight, rounded off a thoroughly entertaining 1 ¼ hours. I then grabbed an easy set-list (the only one on offer!) and got it signed, also sharing some old Gigolo Aunts stuff with an open and chatty Miles afterwards. A lift home with the Provs as well, to round off a successful and splendid evening!

812 BIG COUNTRY, Bristol O2 Academy, Thursday 14 April 2011

2011-04-15T20:51:00.002+01:00

It seems stupid in retrospect, but I nearly didn’t bother for this one… Big Country, one of the post-punk “rockist” bands I picked up on in the early 80’s (primarily due to the presence of Stuart Adamson, former guitarist of my childhood punk faves The Skids), were joining the plethora of bands scratching that reformation itch, reforming for a 30th Anniversary Tour. This, however, was more poignant than most, given the untimely and tragic suicide of Adamson, Big Country’s vocalist/guitarist and driving force, 10 years ago. With his distinctive guitar work the signature sound of Big Country, how would this work?

Research revealed the “guest” addition of contemporary, vocalist Mike Peters of the Alarm, who had impressed me with Dead Men Walking a few years back, plus guitarist Bruce Watson’s son Jamie, to augment the surviving original trio of Watson, beefy bassist Tony Butler and drum virtuoso Mark Brzezicki. So I decided to treat this as an “Ex Simple Minds” scenario, and roped the Big Man into coming (not that he needed much roping, really...). Further pre-gig research by Rich revealed uninteresting supports, so I picked him up after our kids’ bedtimes, haring down the M4 and parking up in time to grab a drink, then head down onto the more-than respectably full floor to take up our usual positions, stage left at this increasingly familiar venue.

Big Country took the stage at 9 pm to a windswept symphonic intro, against a mountainous backdrop, kicking into an initially thin-sounding “1,000 Stars”. However, Mike Peters, last onstage and grinning like a man who’d won the lottery and, given the choice between a pile of cash and the chance to front his favourite band for the night, had chosen the latter, immediately fuelled the already enthusiastic crowd into a frenzy of clapping, sing-along fun and frolics and all-inclusive communality. “Welcome to the Harvest Home!” roared Peters, as an intro to Big Country’s second number and debut single, and we were really away.

Thereafter, the sound was perfect, the performance loud, dynamic, strident, powerful, enthusiastic and all-inclusive, doing full justice to the legacy of this classic, oft-overlooked band. Watson, still rock–star skinny, took lead guitar chores, and apart from a few bum notes at the end of an obviously gruelling set, again did justice to Adamson’s intricate, distinctive windswept and expansive riffery, while son Jamie, a rakish flaxen-haired mini-me, fleshed the sound out with solid rhythm guitar. Mike Peters put on an astonishing performance, deftly walking a tricky tightrope between attention grabbing frontman and humbled and appreciative fan, telling between-song stories about his own friendship with Stuart Adamson, and also how Big Country’s music gave him strength in his battles against cancer. Achingly sincere stuff, but it never descended into maudlin sentimentality.

A wonderful and dramatic mid-set “Porrohman” saw Peters abandon the stage as the song built like a thunderstorm, and reappear walking through the frenzied mosh; the subsequent release of “Inwards” sent shards of guitar riffery shooting through the air, and the lyric “I don’t want to go home on a night like this” summed up most people’s thoughts; a sinuous, celtic-tinged “Storm” segued into a none-more relevant anti-war “Where The Rose Is Sown”, and set closer “Fields Of Fire” raised the roof with a massive communal sing-along, which was even topped by encore “Chance”, the hook-line resonating around the venue for ages.

An inevitable final “In A Big Country” rounded off a startlingly swift 2 hour set + 2encores, the band taking a bow and Peters thanking the crowd for, “making me feel part of the family.” Tony Butler, fittingly, had the last word, dedicating the night to Stuart Adamson and again praising the audience for, “making me feel proud to be a part of Big Country again.” An emotionally-charged night was bookended with Butler ’s final words, referencing the lyric of their final number; “Stay Alive!” Overall, they could not have given a finer tribute to their departed leader and to their own legacy than this brilliant performance tonight. This was everything I wanted it to be, and so much more. A superb night!

811 STIFF LITTLE FINGERS, Los Comos, Bristol O2 Academy, Sunday 27 March 2011

2011-03-28T20:56:00.003+01:00

Death, Taxes, Rip-Off Petrol Prices… and me and the Big Man heading down to Bristol in March to see SLF at the Academy. Some things in life are pretty much nailed-on certainties… This, the 6th time in 7 years we’ve seen the Fingers at the Academy during this month (a run only interrupted in 2009 due to my knee op), was almost curtailed due to my being diagnosed with tonsillitis and being laid up in bed all day Friday. However, I recovered disconcertingly quickly, and was in reasonable fettle for this now-traditional jaunt down to Brizzle. Good times, good company, and vintage punk rock… what more could a body ask for? This time Ady joined us as well, as we hammered down the M4 (Lauda-esque as usual by the Big Man), arriving in good time to get the beers in and chat before the anticipated arrival of support Spear Of Destiny. However, we were instead assailed by Los Comos, a masked band of noiseniks, SOD presumably having pulled at short notice. They were dreadful; ham-fisted lumpen garage rock. A hedgehog-haired old punk lag, tottering precariously on the bar next to us, shouted “fuck off!” and you had to admire the sentiment. We scuttled off to the safety of the back bar to save our ears until the noise died down.

We then headed onto the dancefloor, deserted early doors but now packed and anticipatory, for a hoped-for early start. However, SLF kept us waiting an unprecedented 45 minutes for their eventual arrival at 9.15 to the usual rabble-rousing “guitar and drum” entrance music, surely the best intro music of any band ever! Opener “Roots” was a little thin on guitar sound but nevertheless precipitated a frenzied and growing moshpit, as the old punks piled in and I kept a watching but jostled brief. SLF mainman Jake Burns, cowboy-shirted and increasingly corpulent (appearing to have gained all the weight Rich and I have lost since last March!) seemed in a hurry early doors, rushing through a quickfire “At The Edge”, before introducing a new number, lyrically slating bankers; good to know the social commentary is still evident!

SLF’s performance was however still running in cruise control at this stage, however manic the moshpit was, and it took a totally unexpected and incendiary “Straw Dogs” to give it a really biting snarl. Thereafter, the set really took an extra “edge”, with strident, frantic versions of “Barbed Wire Love” (Ali McMordie’s mid-song doo-wops initiating a huge sing-along and bringing a huge collective smile, as ever), a venomous “Don’t Call Me Harp”, an action-packed “Nobody’s Hero”, and a dramatic “Tin Soldiers”, Jake strafing the balconies with his guitar neck at the finale. “Suspect Device”, gravelly and growling as ever, brought the set to a crashing conclusion; “we’re gonna blow up in your face,” indeed!

First encore “Johnny Was” was as sinuous and absorbing as ever, this over 30 year old number standing the test of time well, as does most of SLF’s early material. The band then took a deserved bow from the partisan crowd, as “up for it” tonight as I’ve ever seen a Bristol SLF audience, before nevertheless returning for Encore part 2! “Every band in the world’s had a go at this song… now it’s our turn to foul it up,” announced Jake before a thrashy “I Fought The Law”, nevertheless unsurprisingly faithful to the Clash’s version, then an inevitable, anthemic “Alternative Ulster” brought the evening to a close. They’d taken time to warm to it tonight, but ultimately delivered a set as good as I’ve seen them, full of their trademark vintage political yet anthemic punk rock. See you next March for Part 7!

810 GLASVEGAS, Bristol Thekla, Tuesday 22 March 2011

2011-03-23T19:46:00.002Z

Glasvegas… on a boat! This is going to be fun…

Since arriving at the arse end of 2008, fully formed, as a complete distillation of everything cool throughout rock’n’roll history, Glasvegas have been off preparing for the next step towards their inevitable global domination, returning with an imminent new CD, “Euphoric///Heartbreak\\\” and a mini-tour in advance of an impending larger venue jaunt. So we jumped on the chance of seeing one of the most promising new bands of the last few years at this intimate, wonderfully run-down and ramshackle venue. Glasvegas… on a boat!

A few questions surrounded this one, however; given that they were so fully-formed, their lineage (McCulloch ray-ban cool, Strummer “voice of the people” stance, VU/ Mary Chain/ wall of noise guitar dynamics, Buddy Holly song structures) obvious yet not overwhelming, each piece complimenting each other, where would they go from here? A couple of disturbing press shots of vocalist James Allen wearing white (!) also raised concerns. Nevertheless, we headed down, parking by the river and wrestling with a reluctant pay machine before hitting the venue just after 8. A pleasant surprise was that we’d missed the support (Gillian somebody) and Glasvegas were on at 8.30! This was followed by our descending into the bowels of the ship and finding an excellent viewing nice spot stage left, a couple of rows back; “sold out” at the Thekla doesn’t mean rammed to the rafters…

The lights dimmed at the witching hour, and Glasvegas took the stage to Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” (the musical backdrop to their “Stabbed” track), the black-clad band kicking off shimmering new number “The World Is Yours”. Then vocalist James Allen, startling in white, swaggered onstage and burst into the impassioned lead vocal, his heavily accented vocals nevertheless powerful and strident, and all the more so for being sung with the mic at arms length (as was the case throughout most of the set). However he wasn’t the only immediate focal point; new drummer, Swede Jonna Lofgren, standing upright behind her kit as did predecessor Caroline McKay, looked like Rachel’s friend’s 15 year old step-daughter, but fairly pounded the drums like a steam-hammer. “She’s good, isn’t she?” remarked Allen after the opener. Damn right she is; I’ve rarely heard anyone hit so hard, and I was concerned at one point she might sink the ship with the sheer power of her drumming!

The early stages took an “old number, new number” sequence, revealing the new songs have retained the Glasvegas sonic template, but are, if anything, infused with extra dynamism and soaring emotiveness – this is going to be one corking album… A mid set cover of The Ronettes’ “Be My Baby” revealed a musical debt, and was followed by a stark, stripped-back reading of “ Moon River ”. “Euphoria”, the slow-burn to crescendo manifesto for their new material, followed, James Allen again delivering an emotive vocal as if his life depended on it. “Does anyone here want to dance?”, Allen then asked before a rampaging “Go Square Go” saw a frantic moshpit break out, and the vocalist abandon the stage and join in! Rubbing shoulders in the mosh with this generation’s first true rock star is something to remember…

First encore, the gut-wrenchingly raw and heart-breaking “Flowers And Football Tops” was given another dimension with a powerfully desolate, voice/ keyboard only rendition. And I’ll honestly be hard pushed to see anything else “live” this year quite as magnificent as final number “Daddy’s Gone”, the powerful pent-up emotion of this number being released in an awe-inspiring communal sing-along, before Allen, chatty, voluble and appreciative of the crowd’s enthusiasm throughout, led the band through one final crashing crescendo to bring a marvellous set to a close. Wow.

I grabbed a set-list as well, thanks to my lovely wife, to cap a superb night which dispelled any concerns about Glasvegas’ return. If anything, they took a step up tonight; they’re the best British band around right now, no messing. And we got to see them… on a boat!

809 BUFFALO TOM, Man Made, London Camden Dingwalls, Thursday 10 March 2011

2011-03-11T19:37:00.003Z

It honestly doesn't seem like five minutes since I last saw Boston blue-collar alt. rock veterans Buffalo Tom, but it's been nearly 3 years... A couple of UK gigs just after Logan's arrival in 2007, plus an aperitif gig in Boston in April 2008, prior to the Big Dipper reunion show, had coincided with a first CD for 9 years in "Three Easy Pieces". And now, barely 3 years later, here's another one; whilst "Pieces" may have been Tom-by-numbers, new CD "Skins" seems a real return to form, with heartfelt, bleeding-raw balladry and rollicking cascading drum propelled US rock in equal measure. We also get a UK date on a short European jaunt; it's like they're back for real! So here we go; Gig No. 11 for The Tom!

A bit of lunchtime jiggery pokery got things organised so Tim could pick me up from work, so we hit the road at 5, enduring hellish traffic from Windsor onwards, and consequently not parking up until 8, just round the corner from Camden Lock. Hit the quiet early doors venue and got a superb viewing spot against the barriers on the level above the small dancefloor. Support Man Made, on at 8.30, was a solo guitarist sporting a green and black jumper which took me back to my teen post-punk wardrobe, and specialising in some nice pedal effects-led stuff with an early 90's post grunge/ shoegazey feel. I've seen whole lot worse support acts already this year, so not a bad start.

The place filled up rapidly during the support slot, and the dancefloor was packed for some time prior to the Tom's scheduled 9.30 arrival, so we stayed with our watching brief as vocalist/ guitarist Bill Janovitz led the boys on at the appointed hour. Easing in with by-now traditional set opener "Treehouse", the lead guitar sound seemed a little thin and low-level, and the subsequent "Summer" and a couple of new numbers seemed almost subdued by Tom standards. "We need more Bill," I remarked to Tim. We got it - and how!

An early "Taillights Fade" ignited the crowd into a resonant sing-along, but then Bill donned a battered Trilby for a wholly unexpected and utterly incendiary "Sunflower Suit" which really got us under way as Bill, neck veins bulging with passion, roared the hook like a lion reclaiming his kingdom. Thereafter the set took flight and the hits kept tumbling down. "Larry", plangent, shimmering and soaring; "Rachael", with Chris' softer vocals infusing it with care and tenderness; a jagged and ragged "Velvet Roof", as incendiary as "Suit" had been, Bill again leading the band through a performance with the conviction of a man half his age; and a brilliantly raucous "Your Stripes", introduced by Bill as, "a fast one," for London to, "sway along to". A yearning "I'm Allowed" concluded the "Interlude of Angst" as Bill termed it, before set closer, the amphetamine rush of "Tangerine", blew the doors off good and proper. I commented to Tim that it was a good thing "Sunflower Suit", "Velvet Roof" and "Tangerine" weren't concurrent in the set, otherwise there would have been dead bodies!

A 6-song encore, including a careful, slow paced reading of New Order's "Age Of Consent" and a final, soaring "Sunday Night" (preceded by a lengthy band and roadie intro by the affable Bill) capped a magnificent hour and 40 minutes rock. Never note perfect, often raggedy arsed as all hell, but always brimming with passion, emotion, intensity and conviction, and a brilliantly visceral experience as ever from the Tom. Long may they roar!

808 THE DECEMBERISTS, Blind Pilot, Bristol O2 Academy, Tuesday 8 March 2011

2011-03-09T20:50:00.005Z

I'd been warned about The Decemberists. A US alt-rock band that had been skirting around the periphery of my rock vision for awhile, I'd finally picked up current CD "The King Is Dead" and found it a lovely little alt. country-folk-rock collection of heart-warming tunes with a definite, almost devotional nod to the "Reckoning" era of nascent REM. A facebook message from no less a luminary than Geoff Van Duyne, former Army Of Jasons mainman, had however warned that, "they'll put you off rock'n'roll and you'll find yourself saying things like "Four And Twenty" instead of "Twenty Four"," which raised my pretentiousness hackles somewhat. An Uncut interview underlined this, suggesting that lead Decemberist, Colin Meloy, had a more cerebral than emotive attitude to playing music, potentially also ringing the "Prog Alert" alarms. Nevertheless, give 'em a chance...

A shit day at work also meant that I was really in need of a good gig, so off I went with a feeling of slight trepidation, zooming down and hitting the already heaving venue at 8.20, navigating my way onto the crowded floor just as support Blind Pilot were rounding up their nice but innocuous backwoods folk/ country set. An odd crowd as well, the Decemberists' massive; lots of granddad jackets, knitwear, glasses and facial hair in evidence. I felt very young indeed, and also as if I'd landed in a History Teacher's convention!

The Decemberists, led by mainman Colin Meloy, came on at 9 to a silly taped introduction from one Sam Adams, apparently Portland's Mayor, and eased into a catchy opener, "July". "Calamity", the REM "Talk About The Passion" clone from the current CD, was next up, and already the gregarious Meloy's erudite, wry and humorous between-song repartee ("this one's about a miner's uprising in 1917; just what you want, a topical number that talks to you about your life...") was winning me over, as was the understated, well-played and extremely well paced set. "Sporting Life", a touching Smiths homage with a Fall "Lie Dream" drumbeat, was embellished by Meloy with a "Charming Man" lyric reference. A gorgeous pedal-steel fuelled ballad was followed by a riff-heavy blues glam stomp with impassioned vocals from guest Sarah Watkins, which then was followed by Meloy slapping on a mandolin for "Crane 3", a gorgeous slow burn to a lengthy descending hook, and a set highlight.

Overall, this is a band that wears their influences firmly on their sleeve, and seems out of time, more at home perhaps in the jangly early 80's underground, along with the Smiths and the early countrified REM. I enjoyed playing "Spot The Steal" (a Stills drum intro here, a Pogues reference there, lots of little REM vignettes, even a drum dominated number recalling the National's more discordant moments) as Meloy, evidently a man with an impressive record collection but also an ear for simple catchy melody, dominated proceedings, and his bandmates sat back and indulged his foibles. The splendid 2-part harmony of the rollicking "This Is Why We Fight" was my set highlight, although a lengthy set-closing "Chimbly Sweep", featuring a blues interlude and lots of quirky audience participation, ran it close.

Two encores, including a preposterous but fun sea shanty "Mariner's Revenge" and a heart-rending parched final "June Hymn" rounded off a 2 hour set touchingly and very well. Fears largely unfounded, The Decemberists tonight delivered a very entertaining - and yes, in parts emotive! - performance. Good gig, just what I needed, and a lot better than the return journey, thanks to a stinky and lengthy diversion around the old Gloucester Road. Bah!

807 THE WHIGS, The Dead Confederate, Blacklight Pioneer, Oxford Jericho Tavern, Tuesday 22 February 2011

2011-02-23T19:38:00.002Z

A good old fashioned short notice gig, this; I’d come across a classified ad for this dual-headlining tour by a couple of young bands from REM’s old stamping grounds of Athens, Georgia, whilst tidying away some old “Uncut” magazines on Sunday. Given that The Dead Confederate had also contributed an intriguing, proto shoegazey number to a recent Uncut compilation CD, I then checked out the respective bands MySpace pages; The Dead Confed’s MySpace stuff veered from good, through indifferent to not so good really, but I enjoyed the driving hard rock of The Whigs (as in “Afghan”, but seemingly no relation to Greg Dulli’s post-grunge lot), a band previously totally unknown to me.

Thus it was that I made a frustrating lorry-hindered journey to Oxford , nevertheless parking up easily and hitting the venue at 8.30, for an intriguing double-header, which immediately became triple with openers Blacklight Pioneer, who took the stage as I arrived. A 6-piece young British band joining the Yank rockers for the UK leg of their tour, they mined a zeitgeisty dark, brooding pseudo 80’s sound with some good numbers, notably fast-faced final number “Lucille”, but sounded at the moment cluttered and untogether, as if they were having a “who can play their instruments the loudest” competition. Still, I remember writing something similar about a Reading Fez support slot from The Killers one time, and 18 months later they were selling out Brixton Academy , so what the fuck do I know??!

Took in the ambience of this venerable old upstairs room, with the ghosts of old 80’s gigs seeping through the walls (if I closed my eyes, I could almost hear The Parachute Men, 4 times my hosts here!), before taking a wander down the front for The Whigs, on at 9.15 and given a fulsome welcome by a now-full Jericho audience. A snappily impressive, driving with the top down opener “Like A Vibration”, was followed by an enthusiastically played and well paced set from this young 3-piece. “Black Lotus”, a similarly raw and garage rock-like number with a roaring groove, was followed by “Dying”, a slow-burn to a lengthy and cacophonous squall, which recalled Seafood or Bob Mould. By contrast, “Written Invitation”, next up, was almost pretty and cleared the air perfectly. “We’re The Whigs from Athens ; who here’s from Georgia ?”, the angular, Thurston Moore lookalike vocalist Parker Gispert shouted out mid-set, to be met with a roar from the crowd. Responding in kind, the high-kicking Parker rounded off a splendid rock set with “Need You Need You”, which featured a sleazy groove reminiscent of the Doors “LA Woman”. I quickly grabbed a set-list and got it signed, enjoying some baseball banter with drummer Julian Dorio in the process!

The Dead Confederate, headliners tonight, were however a great disappointment, playing a plodding, one dimensional post-grunge noise for which the sound, often muddy and at best average tonight, did no favours. Bleak, black and indistinct, I nevertheless gave them half a dozen numbers, but with their songs merging into each other, I took a wander back, pitching up next to the articulate Whigs vocalist Parker for an enjoyable conversation about the importance of variation and “light and shade” in a band’s repertoire. I then hit the road while The Dead Confederate continued to revisit the ghost of grunge onstage, having already seen tonight’s true headliners – The Whigs!

806 WHITE LIES, Crocodiles, Active Child, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 9 February 2011

2011-02-10T20:13:00.002Z

Another Bristol Academy gig – I’m here frequently to kick this gig year off, it seems! This time I’m on my own, and in trouble; I’d sorted myself a ticket for this on the assumption that Rach wouldn’t be interested, as she’s not a fan of White Lies’ 2 closest current reference points, Editors or The Killers. However she then gave their deliciously dark first album, “To Lose My Life” a proper listen, and loved it, by which time this gig had sold out. D’oh!

So, I drove down swiftly in a funny-smelling car, hitting the venue early for this 3 band bill. However, this meant enduring openers Active Child, a LA duo playing dismal and dour “mood music” over a muffled drum machine and a variety of instruments, including a harp (!). The singer had an operatic, high male soprano voice which gave me Jimmy Somerville flashbacks, and their sloppy cover of New Order’s “Ceremony” had me shaking my head.

Crocodiles, however, were a considerably more palatable proposition; bursting onstage in a whirl of Breton striped shirts and floppy fringes, they played a splendid scuzzy garage surf rock set which channelled the ghosts of C86; pounding metronomic drums and catchy songs about surfing and girls, overladen with swathes of dirty feedback. However the real star was vocalist Brandon Welchez, the Ray-Ban clad mutant offspring of Stan Ridgeway and Lou Reed with the moves of a young Iggy or 80’s Julian Cope, all crushed into a pipe-cleaner thin kinetic frame. Back-lit by blood red spotlights throughout, his was a riveting performance, and the Mary Chain-isms of opener “Sleep Forever” and the faster, absorbing “Mirrors” were standout tracks. No set-list (boo!); the drummer informed me, “it’s all in our heads”; however a longer post-gig chat with the 2 guitarists on my way back to the car revealed they’re back for more dates in the Summer. I reckon they’d put on a corking show in a small venue…

The place was crammed by now and anticipation palpable, so I stayed in my support-band viewing spot down the front, stage left, for White Lies’ entrance at 9.30. A very impressive and powerful opening salvo, featuring “A Place To Hide”, an early “To Lose My Life” and a stunning, strident “Strangers”, an excellent new number off slightly inferior new album “Ritual”, whipped the crowd into a frenzied moshpit. The set wavered for me a little thereafter, with the newer material less consistent than the first album. Like Editors, White Lies have suffused their dark, pseudo Goth early 80’s rockist material with synth and keyboard overlays on the new record, also augmenting their 3-piece line up “live” with 2 keyboard players. However, unlike their peers, they’ve taken a poppier, more user-friendly approach, rendering them like Midge Ure’s Ultravox to Editors’ “Empires And Dance” era Simple Minds. The very Killers-like “Streetlights” testified to this; a little safe, perhaps?

Set closer “Death” was totally audience powered, the crowd raising the roof and providing the power and oomph which this titanic song deserves, and which this rendition slightly lacked; however final encore “Bigger Than Us” saw them roaring back, the strident soaring chorus bristling with power and youthful verve, ending the night on their best number. Still painfully young (vocalist Harry McVeigh, despite his dark, mature baritone, coming across nervous on occasions), they’re more than worth persevering with, and tonight provided a slightly uneven yet overall very enjoyable 1 ¼ hour’s show. More power to White Lies!

805 THE HOLD STEADY, Wintersleep, Bristol O2 Academy, Saturday 5 February 2011

2011-02-07T22:05:00.002Z

The 2011 gig year finally gets under way with The Hold Steady, consistently my favourite band of the late “noughties”, and a bit of payback; following my accompanying Rachel to see her current band crush Biffy Clyro at the arse end of ‘10, I’m dragging her along kicking and screaming to see a band she’s not “got” yet. Maybe tonight... Anyway, after a torrid drive down a stormy windswept M4, we parked up early and arrived at the half-full venue ( Bristol ! What is wrong with you people?!) in time for support, Canada’s Wintersleep, who played a reasonable set of US alt-guitar rock, veering from reasonable to quite good, and featuring some diverting nasal Ad Frank sound-alike vocals.

The place filled respectably as we took a good viewing spot, extreme stage left; then the lights were killed and the booming intro of The Psychedelic Furs’ classic “Heaven” rang out, as The Hold Steady sauntered onstage, looking for all the world like 5 University lecturers taking a wrong turn on their way back to the common room. “We’re The Hold Steady, it’s Saturday night, we’re going to have a great time,” announced mainman Craig Finn, a bundle of nervous energy in spectacles, as they kicked into the strident blues riff of “Sequestered In Memphis”, a startlingly brilliant sing-along opener about a bar-room pick-up, Craig mockingly adding air-commas to the line, “I went there on business...”

Thence followed a set of rampant, life-affirming, effervescent, joyful, ragged and jagged rock’n’roll of the highest order, played with style, swish and swagger, with titanic, beer-soaked riffery aplenty from guitarist Tad Kubler, and garbling, stream-of-consciousness, semi-spoken tales of killer drug parties, teen adventures by the Mississippi River, and more parties, tumbling headlong from the jerky, kinetic Craig’s brain and mouth. Such is the depth of their material now, it wasn’t until, in response to a request for “a romantic song”, they trotted out “You Can Make Him Like You”, that I noted to Rach, “this is the first number from my favourite album, “Boys And Girls In America”!”. Another sing-along ensued to the hook of, “there’s always other boys, there’s always other boyfriends”. Romantic, pfah!

A roaring, venomous “Constructive Summer”, the best song Husker Du never wrote, saw fists aloft to the line, “raise a toast to Saint Joe Strummer”; “Chips Ahoy” raised the roof with its’ terrace chant “whoa-ho”s; but the subsequent “Stuck Between Stations” was mighty, the now all-guitar attack rejigging the mid-section to make light of keyboard player Franz Nicolai’s recent departure. “Hoodrat Friend” featured a slightly overlong middle eight guitar interplay break, but roared back with a strident vengeance, and the soaring sing-along during “Massive Nights” closed out a brilliant set. A four song encore featured another rousing “woah-ho” sing-along for the agenda-setting “Stay Positive”, before the exuberant Craig thanked us profusely for being a part of a brilliant night. A corking show from a band clearly in love with what they do; I know it’s only February, but I‘ll be hard pushed to see a more enjoyable, life-affirming set this year. Wow. Just… Wow.

Oh, and Rach finally pinpointed why she doesn’t “get” this band; “musically they’re fine, it’s just him (Craig)! He’s annoying and uses far too many words!” Hmmm, well, there’s always been an excessive verbiage element to my music…!

804 THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS, 'Allo Darlin', London Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Thursday 9 December 2010

2011-02-06T10:58:00.002Z

The final gig of an entirely satisfying 2010 Gigging Year – 28 in total, including the landmark gig 800 – and it’s kind of a new band on me; The New Pornographers, whom Tim introduced me to earlier this year when I was looking for some challenging new music, and whose current, 5th, album ,“Together”, I’d picked up as a result. Initially dismissing it as pretty but lightweight, it’s since grown on me considerably, displaying as it does those overlooked virtues of quality, intelligent songcraft and excellent musicianship. A loose collective built around 2 Vancouver sing-songwriters, Neko Case and Carl “AC” Newman, they’ve a terrible name but an intriguing one, and this became a gig I increasingly looked forward to, as it loomed closer.

A slight car-mare to start off, however; Tim was working in Oxford so we agreed to meet up at Chieveley, but it took ages to clear Swindon due to an accident on the M4 slipway, and I then had to pay £10 to park! Ouch! However, it was plain sailing thereafter and we parked at ¼ to 8 at the Bush, hitting the oddly deserted venue 45 minutes before the first band were on! Said band, the equally poorly named ‘Allo Darlin’, featured a gawky yet oddly attractive Australian female vocalist, playing a ukulele over some slightly dated sounding but charming fey whimsical pop, as if C86 had never left us. Said vocalist and the impressively gay-moustached bassist bounced up and down over songs such as “Darren”, the Darren in question being the lead singer of Hefner, which kind of nailed their influences to the mast somewhat. Nevertheless, a diverting way to spend half an hour.

The venue filled up, but was by no means full, as we leant by the barriers, stage left, awaiting The New Pornographers, who joined just before 9.30. A 7-piece band, they kicked off with “Moves”, “Together”s opening track, the strident riff leading into a buoyant,upbeat march of a song. They fairly whipped through their set, for the most part only stopping for brief pauses to swap tambourines around between numbers, and chalked up an impressive 22 numbers (including the 2 encores) in their 1½ hour performance. Good going! Difficult to pigeonhole, their sound is based on some very cleverly built rhythm changes, nagging pseudo choral hooks scattered liberally throughout their intelligently structured numbers, and some striking male-female vocal interplay from twin figureheads Carl and Neko, who with an unkempt pile of ginger hair resembled a more striking Carol Decker! A real intelligence, without descending into clever-cleverness, at work to make their songs sound deceptively simple yet have the ability to grow on you like a rash. During one of their lengthier between-song breaks, Carl, in response to a comment from the drummer referencing Motorhead’s “No Sleep Till Hammersmith” album, cutely asked, “what element of my songs suggest that I own anything by Motorhead?” which was a fair point. More telling, perhaps, was his comment about looking forward to see Julian Cope (“who you may know from his earlier work as… Julian Cope”) at ATP this weekend. Good taste!

I’ve evidently got some homework to do on this band, as I enjoyed most of the unfamiliar (to me) material as much as their “Together” stuff, surprisingly rockier as some if it was, although my highlights of a sparkling, upbeat and deliciously poppy sing-along set were the early “Crash Years” and “Up In The Dark”. Overall, a lovely way to conclude the gig year!

803 ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN, Kelly Stoltz, Oxford O2 Academy, Monday 6 December 2010

2011-02-06T10:56:00.003Z

NB - set list was for the encores

“A Masterclass In Rock’n’Roll” was the strap-line for this one. Echo And the Bunnymen, my “home team” during my musical formative years, playing both their first 2 albums in one night; “Crocodiles”, their plangent, chiming, surprisingly mature debut, then their masterpiece “Heaven Up Here”, a magnificently moody, brooding thing of grand, majestic sweeping range and vision, which still sounds other-worldly after 29 years, remaining firmly one of my all-time favourite albums and undisputedly my most-played album ever. I eagerly booked tix for Saturday’s Birmingham gig, only for them to announce this one, a damn sight closer, and for Rachel to fall in love with Biffy Clyro, whose Wembley gig clashed with B’rum. Thus was that ticket sacrificed, so I could again return to the town I first saw the Bunnymen, 29 years and 2 days ago!

After a foggy drive down the A421, Oxford was broached surprisingly easily (green lights all the way!) and I parked up in good time for support Kelly Stoltz, who played at 8 to a surprisingly sparse crowd. He and his 6-piece band played a nice line in Velvets-like garage psychedelia, with some chunky drums and meaty melody. A cover of a number dating from 1965 didn’t sound out of place, and Stoltz, clearly psyched to be supporting the Bunnymen, also told a nice anecdote of his mother sorting him a Bunnymen cake for his 13th birthday!

I met up with Peej and the crew, then wormed my way to the front, stage right, as the place filled up, dry ice choked the stage and the Bunnymen kept us waiting ¼ hour past their allotted time, before the Gregorian chanting heralded their entrance. Mac, an indistinct figure though the lingering fog, seemed distracted from the outset, perhaps by Liverpool’s clashing footy game, and almost reluctantly kicked the gig into gear.

Frankly, “Crocodiles” was a bit of a mess, the band playing these numbers too loudly and rockily, burying the touching, quiet resonance of the slower, more introverted bedsit material with layers of riffery. Mac’s voice, a strident heavenly proclamation even as recently as last year here, seemed ragged and off key at times, particularly when required to raise an octave and really drive a number along, and some numbers notwithstanding (a splendid “All That Jazz” and Villier’s Terrace”, again chiming and resonant) the whole thing seemed rushed and ham-fisted. “Happy Death Men” was an utter car-crash, Mac’s voice hopelessly out of tune, and I feared for the soaring melody of “A Promise” in particular.

Happily, “Show Of Strength” marked a sea change in the set, with Mac’s voice in finer fettle, the light and shade of “Heaven Up Here’s” doomy opener actually handled with more reverence, rather than the trampling “Crocodiles” generally received. “Over The Wall”, introduced by Mac as, “the song which set ourselves apart from… ourselves,” was magnificent; building like steam then riding headlong into a rollercoaster of crashing and tumbling guitar and rhythm, then crashing into crescendo after crescendo. Wonderful stuff, and easily the best number on show tonight.

Thankfully my fears for “A Promise” were allayed, with Mac alternating between octaves and generally hitting the notes; “Heaven Up Here”, the jagged whirlwind title track, was also splendid, strident and thrilling, and overall “Heaven Up Here” received better treatment than its’ predecessor, although again some later tracks seemed rushed, as if Mac needed to get off and check the Liverpool score.

A very uneven set was capped with fine encore renditions of “Lips Like Sugar”, and a fine, anthemic closing “Cutter”, before Mac, who’d spouted inanties throughout the set, mumbled something about paedophiles and went off. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed after this game of two halves, as I hit the foggy drive back, getting home just after midnight. “A Masterclass In Rock’n’Roll”? Partly. A masterclass in singing, and the Art of the Frontman? Nope. Sorry Mac.

802 BIFFY CLYRO, The Futureheads, London Wembley Arena, Saturday 4 December 2010

2011-02-06T10:56:00.001Z

Rachel got Biffy Clyro in a “band swap” with a new similarly music-minded work colleague, and suddenly they became her new favourite band! To be honest, they’d been skirting around the extremities of our musical radar for some time, but I’d personally found them at best formulaic jagged hard rock, in a Seafood meets Foo Fighters vein, and at worst post Nu-metal grunting rock pigs. However recent CD “Only Revolutions” revealed a more melodic, anthemic edge, so we took an opportunity to get tix. The first surprise was; Wembley Arena? If they are that popular, what happened to Seafood’s Wembley Arena gig??

Weather-affected tube closures necessitated booking an expensive parking slot directly at Wembley, so we set off at 5.15 in trepidation of a crap journey, however it was pretty plain sailing and we parked under the shadow of Wembley Stadium just after 7! Result! We settled in to our seats, in the gods, stage right in this cavernous c. 10,000 capacity aircraft hanger, and awaited with no great relish the support.

Second surprise, The Futureheads were quite good! I was kindly disposed to them anyway, as they took the stage to Cheap Trick’s “Good Evening Ladies And Gentlemen”, but they delivered a good, energetic performance. Musically, they’re still stuck in the jerky new wave, 1st album XTC rut, but unlike a few years back, these days not every band sounds like that, so their sound almost felt like a quaint, anachronistic curio. The call and response in their best number, their cover of Kate Bush’s “Hounds Of love” capped a surprisingly enjoyable set. As Rachel put it; “I’ve seen worse support bands – The Futureheads, for one!”

A roadie hoovered the stage between bands (!), as I noted that my knowledge of the headliners and the size of the venue were inversely proportional to each other! Finally, the Biff took the stage at 9, stripped to the waist and revealing apparently “unpleasant” tattoos, to the anthemic “Captain”. They were here to rock, with second number in, “Booooom Blast And Ruin”, a lean and mean amphetamine rush, and my favourite, the Seafood-esque “Bubbles”, following in short order. Making few concessions for the size of the venue, the Biff played a straight-ahead rock gig with few frills, occasionally anthemic and sing-along (particularly the early set, which relied heavily on their recent, best CD), occasionally just plain noisy, but generally much better than I’d feared. I also found it telling when the 3-piece Biff gathered around the drum riser for their older numbers, as if trying to shrink the stage.

There were moments of light and shade amongst the rock; “God And Satan” was delivered by vocalist Simon Neal in an almost 50’s ballad style, and an acoustic interlude was surprisingly tender and Idlewild-like. One number featured the lyric, “take the pieces and build them skyward” which almost seemed a metaphor for this band. Ultimately, they’re a good honest rock band, who’ve paid their dues, and got where they are now through sweat and hard work, rather than hype, so fair play to them!

And a quick exit too – we left halfway through the penultimate number, and zoomed out of the car park, arriving home 1 hour 15 minutes after leaving our seats!

801 THE NATIONAL, Phosphorescent, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 24 November 2010

2011-02-06T10:55:00.002Z

I booked this some time ago, as The National, increasingly becoming one of my favourite bands with their blend of atmospheric late night mood music, euphoric crashing crescendo alt rock and moody Americana , had produced another splendid CD this year in “High Violet”. Again very slow-burn and understated, it’s a real grower, but Rachel decided it didn’t grow on her enough, so passed her ticket onto Tim, who was keen to see the support.

Unfortunately, the journey down was a total nightmare; Rach got in late from work in Reading so Tim picked her up from the station, and we passed each other in the lobby on my way out! Hitting Bristol at 7.30, Tim and I waited in an interminable queue for the usual Trenchard Street car park, only to discover it was “one in, one out”, and, after a panicked drive up the hill, eventually parked over by @ Bristol, which turned out to be closer than we thought! However, this meant we got into the packed venue at 8.10, ten minutes after support Phosphorescent took the stage. A US alt-country lot (hence Tim’s enthusiasm for them, I guess!), they were okay background music, occasionally too trad Country hokum for my tastes, and I only really took note during their more discordant moments towards the end of their set.

We kept our good positions, stage right, as the floor got increasingly stuffed with both older muso types and indie girlies (a broad church, the National’s audience) and anticipation grew. The National took the stage at 9.15 against a violet backdrop, easing into their set with “Runaway” and “Anyone’s Ghost”, a slow, moody double from “High Violet”. An early “Mistaken For Strangers” then should have really ignited both the crowd and their performance, but somehow it didn’t…

The sound was perfect, a little too perfect perhaps, the band played their material reverently and understatedly, but somehow it all seemed to lack depth, an extra dimension of dynamism, particularly early doors. Having seen The National really soar “live”, and add that extra power and punch to their effortlessly cool yet deliciously sombre music, it seemed a little disappointing. Don’t get me wrong; they were still great, with the denouement to “Slow Show” affecting, and “Sorrow” hauntingly wallowing. I was just expecting more, and didn’t really get it until a brash, jagged “Abel”, which finally saw Matt Berenger howl with real venom.

“Play something depressing!” shouted a wag in the crowd (not me, for once!) as The National augmented their performance with some nervous between song banter, and Matt’s barrel rolls (!), before “Fake Empire” closed out the set. The subsequent encores, however, were magnificent and much more the ticket; “Mr November”, full-on, venomous and rocking; “Terrible Love”, surprisingly savage and punk rock, and the best number they played tonight; and a final, unplugged “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks”, brilliantly delivered with acoustic guitar and trumpet embellishment, and an all-inclusive mic-free singalong, to end an uneven but overall splendid performance on a high note.

Still increasingly one of my favourite bands, this was still a great gig, despite a slight disappointment that it didn’t really scale the heights of previous National gigs. They’re on their way up, and have the potential to be an REM for the new millennium. It’ll be interesting to see what happens next, but whatever, I’ll still be watching closely!

800 TITUS ANDRONICUS, Bravo Brave Bats, Bristol Cooler, Friday 19 November 2010

2011-02-06T10:53:00.003Z

Another landmark gig reached; gig 800, and the hosts are Titus Andronicus, a New Jersey rabble who have whipped me up into a right old state this year with their wonderful album "The Monitor". A delicious and viciously barbed and skewed blend of bar-room blues rock, savage yet melodic terrace-chant punk and widescreen anthemic guitar soundscapes, with an literary lyricism reflecting the venom of the music, yet articulate and fascinating, referencing amongst other subjects the American Civil War and general class struggles through subsequent times, it's easily 2010's best. Seriously, I've not been this enthused and excited about a new band since discovering The Hold Steady 4 years back, so hopes were high, perhaps unfairly so, for this one. How could they live up to it "live"? How, indeed...

Hit the Cooler, a new and splendid scuzzy little venue halfway up the Park Street hill, at 8.30, after driving down late to Bristol and dumping the car in Trenchard's Level 10 (!). Titus Andronicus' bassist Ian Graetzer was manning the merch stand, so I had a brief chat and bought a t-shirt before local support Bravo Brave Bats came on at 8.45. An odd-looking 3-piece featuring a drummer/singer with a horrible red vest and a Movember 'tache, they nevertheless played a fast, furious and jagged set of powerful punky rock, recalling the likes of Mission Of Burma and Glitterbox, and kicked up a real storm in the process, the guitarist in particular abandoning the stage on more than one occasion to hurl himself through the crowd. Quite possibly the best new support I've seen this year, Bravo Brave Bats were the perfect hors d'oeuvres for Titus Andronicus, a point I made to the Alexei Sayle lookalike bassist afterwards.

I stayed down the front, stage right, for Titus Andronicus, on at 10 to 10 after a fiddly soundcheck. Heavily bearded and helium-voiced vocalist Patrick Stickles immediately kicked into the booming, bass-driven intro to "A More Perfect Union", and the packed moshpit went mental. Jacket quickly discarded, I joined in as their savage, jagged guitar overload attack ignited the crowd into a frenzy, and their anthemic material took on a soaring, euphoric and (oh yes) joyful quality "live". "Union"s intricate tempo changes flowed effortlessly, and the mosh joined in with the sing-along, Irish tinged hook of "rally round the flag", the first uplifting and all-inclusive battle-cry of the night.

This, in fact, was the essence of their strident, powerful and kinetic performance tonight; an all-inclusive gang mentality, a real rapport and connection with their audience. A mid-set double of "No Future Part 3" with the hook of, "you will always be a loser!" and the the subsequent "Titus Andronicus", introduced by Patrick as, "another one with a repeating refrain," this time the hook being, "your life is over!" resonated around this packed venue. My favourite, "The Battle Of Hampton Roads", a 14-minute epic with tempo changes and crescendos aplenty and a bilious, vengeful lyric ("when I smoke I will smoke gaping holes in my chest, when I scream I will scream till I'm gasping for breath") was brilliant, and a frenzied, amphetamine fast Misfits cover revealed the band's punk roots. A final "Four Score And Seven" rounded off an awesome, magnificent performance, with band and audience having poured all of themselves into it, leaving us all sweat-drenched and elated.

As good was to come afterwards when, acting on a promise from bass player Ian beforehand, drummer Eric Harm wrote out a set-list especially for me! It appears they don't normally use one, underlining the "working without a safety net" aspect of their live shows, so hey, that's a collector's item! Effusive congrats afterwards with the band before I reluctantly drew this one to a close and poured my sweaty self (full Cleo! Result!) into the chill Bristol night. Call off the dogs, the search is over, the Mighty Titus Andronicus tonight delivered the 2010 Gig Of The Year. What a way to celebrate No. 800!

799 JIMMY EAT WORLD, Minus The Bear, Bristol Academy, Sunday 14 November 2010

2011-02-06T10:52:00.000Z

The second gig of a hectic weekend saw Rachel and I heading down the M4 to Bristol, after Rachel's mum turned up to babysit, for the return of live favourites Jimmy Eat World, touring their current album "Invented", another prime slab of emotive, heartfelt and occasionally euphoric rock to add to an increasingly quality canon of work. Hit the venue just before 8 after a clear run, and got the drinks in and found a good viewing spot before openers Minus The Bear. A beardy 5-piece from Seattle, they ploughed a furrow of polite, innocuous but inoffensive soft rock, with one surprising rocker which had tinges of The Foo Fighters' "Everlong", to throw the rest of their ho-hum material into sharp relief. "I thought they were about to play "Abracadabra"," said Rach midway through their first number, and she was spot on.

Luckily, for dynamism, power and sheer emotional overload, we had Jimmy Eat World to come crashing in, with their full-on, hard-rocking yet no less tuneful guitar onslaught. Wandering on at the appointed hour of 9 to little fanfare yet to a rapturous welcome from this young crowd, their were straight "on it" with the powerful, dramatic opening salvo of "Bleed American", the forceful, driving middle-eight a real feature and nice guy vocalist Jim Adkins already pouring heart and soul into his performance. My two pre-gig "wants" were dispensed with 2nd and 4th number in; firstly oldie "A Praise Chorus", bringing the first sing-along of the night for the hook, "crimson and clover, over and over", then newie "Coffee And Cigarettes", the most accessible number from their new CD, and almost Gigolo Aunts-like in its' driving melody and crashing tide of harmony. The enthusiastic crowd really went nuts, surprisingly so, for the jagged "Futures", forming a furious moshpit, however for me, the set really took flight for "Big Casino", the soaring hook delivered powerfully and brilliantly. The vicious "Pain" kept this increased momentum going, as Jim, now really getting a sweat on, delivered a passionate vocal display of the kind of bleeding raw emotion usually reserved for a Perrino or a Janovitz. "Work" was another highlight, before Jim, as if looking to turn a release valve on the intensity, complimented a punter's "Space Invaders" shirt with the comment, "my 8 year old would think that's totally rad!" before slowing the mood with a couple of more acoustic numbers, before picking up the heat again to finish the set with a couple of oldies, the sing-along "Blister" and the lengthy slow-burn to crescendo "Goodbye Sky Harbor".

The encores culminated in another sing-along for the poppy "The Middle", which merged into final number, the "Velvet Roof" like slashing guitar dynamics of "Sweetness", the hookline "whoa-oh"s resonating around the packed venue. Brilliant, inclusive stuff to cap a stunning 1 1/2 hours of prime rock, delivered by a band in top form. They're supporting Foo Fighters at MK Bowl next year, and on this form, might just upstage them...!

798 CHEAP TRICK, Shepherd's Bush Empire, Friday 12 November 2010

2011-02-06T10:49:00.004Z

Gig-vember continues apace with 2 shows in 3 days with Rachel, from a couple of perennial live favourites. First Cheap Trick, although prior to setting off, this had become more of an obligatory than anticipated show; booked ages ago, we'd seen this gig month get increasingly busier and had to forego other, potentially more interesting gigs (including Ash and The Crimea at this venue tomorrow, which annoyed Rach somewhat) as we'd already got tix for this! Still, we kept faith with our old faves da Trick, and set off at 6 on a drizzly Friday night, hitting the Uxbridge Road just after 8 and eventually finding a parking spot.

Had to queue to get in! Clearly the last-minute announcement of no support and an early start (8.15) had caught people on the hop, but we nevertheless had enough time to get in and get drinks in, then squirm away from the heaving bar to an only slightly less squashed floor location, before da Trick's 8.30 arrival to a packed crowd.

Recent Classic Rock honourees Cheap Trick (hence the reason for this tour) came on to entrance music of a collage of various Japanese radio intros and other odd bits, including Homer Simpson saying, "I'd rather listen to Cheap Trick," and fellow Simpsons character Apoo singing "Dream Police"! It's been 6 years since we'd last seen these grizzled rock veterans, and indeed da Trick's 36th year of touring and making music, and they were wearing their experience in their faces, blond vocalist Robin Zander in particular having aged noticeably of late. However, that didn't stop them easing into their blend of riff-heavy 70's rock, bar-room blues strident power balladry and muscular punchy powerpop with easy confidence. Purveyors of at least half a dozen all-time classic songs deserving of a place at rock's top table, we had to sit through some unfamiliar though no-less enjoyable material (particularly the fast-rocking "Lookout"), until the first of these arrived, the huge stately ballad of "Tonight It's You". "I Want You To Want Me" rollicked in straight after, a romper-stomper with THE definitive descending bassline, and was my set highlight. At least, it was right up until set closer, the all-time powerpop classic, "Surrender", which was delivered perfectly tonight and brought the house down. A sinuous, lengthy encore of "Ain't That A Shame" led into final number "Dream Police", another classic, helium powered powerpop tune, and a perfect way to end a splendid, good time rock'n'roll show.

"Can we have the lights up please, I want to say hello to some friends... hello everyone, you're all our friends!" said guitarist Rick Neilsen midway through, and Cheap Trick again reinforced their rapport with their audience, defying the years to put on another great show. Don't leave it 6 years next time, boys!

797 JASON LYTLE, Supp. Midlake, John Grant, Oxford O2 Academy, Friday 5 November 2010

2011-02-06T10:49:00.001Z

An intriguing triple bill on a Bonfire night saw Tim and myself driving through filthy conditions (rain precluding the setting off of many fireworks tonight, I’d warrant) to Oxford for this early one, parking up just before 7 and getting into this rapidly-filling venue for a sell-out show, in good time for the first act.

Good thing too, as this was my main attraction; Jason Lytle, former main inspiration behind quirky California dreamy psychedelic alt-rockers Grandaddy, one of the most languidly inspirational and consistent acts of the late 90’s/ early noughties, and the only band to get my Top Act award from 2 different Reading Festivals! Jason, armed only with a fat acoustic, a sparsely-operated drum machine which, on the one occasion he did use it, he then accused of trying to upstage him (!) and his high-pitched, plaintive voice, treated us to a clutch of Grandaddy classics in his set, the highlights being an early “Now It’s On”, and the closer “Miner At The Dial A View”. “I’m having a good time, I get to watch John and Midlake every night,” he said, to which I shouted in response, “and they get to watch you!” Lovely stuff, which made me miss Grandaddy all the more.

Next up, John Grant, Tim’s tip, was a large, imposing bearded American with a real crooner’s voice; deep, resonant and lushly expressive. His cracked, late night singer-songwriter material was occasionally Scott Walker-esque, moody and slow-burn, yet he displayed a quirky lyrical bent at odds and yet somehow complementing this; “I only wanted you for sex and for someone who looks smashing in athletic wear” being a personal favourite. However, his final number was as heart-wrenching as any Dashboard Confessional number, and overall he left a very favourable impression.

By contrast, however, Midlake were dreadful. For a moment when they took the stage at 9, I thought they’d taken a wrong turn from the Fillmore, circa 1969, as they now sported full-on beards and hippy checks. The music underlined this; new songs about “creatures of the earth” and suchlike (I was waiting for one about trolls), set to dreary, plodding pastoral sludge of the worst order. Their older, more thoughtful and varied material (even the likes of “Rosscoe”) was dragged down to the same level; to think I’d tagged them as potentially the new Grandaddy! Rachel was right in the first place when she dismissed this lot as “hippyshit”! Halfway through their interminably long (the thick end of 2 hours) set I gave serious consideration to getting a ticket for upstairs, where Edwyn Collins was playing! The only saving grace from this desperate set was the encore, when they dragged Grant on for a run-through a song by his former band The Tsars, then did likewise with Lytle, delivering a splendid, moving “AM180” which only served to threw Midlake’s set into sharp relief.

So, a disappointing finish, but 2 fine supports, and Jason Lytle reinforcing why I loved Grandaddy so much with a super little set. I wish they’d come back…

796 THE PSYCHEDELIC FURS, Frome Cheese And Grain, Sunday 24 October 2010

2011-02-06T10:47:00.003Z

The second gig in consecutive nights saw me solo driving through the wilds of Wiltshire and Somerset, to Frome, thence to see 80's favourites The Psychedelic Furs, who'd revived memories of those rockist days wonderfully with a colossal set at Shepherd's Bush Empire 5 years ago. They'd originally announced plans to play "Talk Talk Talk", their seminal 1981 album, in it's entirety at the back end of 2009, but cancelled those shows after I'd gotten tix! D'oh! After that false start, though, we were on again, although I was without potential gig companions Rich and "Mad" Doug. Their loss!

I arrived at the car park fronting the Cheese And Grain at 8, only to be confronted with a huge queue, as they'd not opened yet! Somehow the Furs' intended 8.30 start seemed unlikely... finally got in at 20 past, and headed down the front at this large and run-down market hall venue, and waited, and waited... finally a compere came out and gave us the "heads up" on the running order, then The Furs took the stage, one by one, to the opening bars of the angular "Dumb Waiters". In a predictable but nice touch of rock theatre, Richard Butler took the stage last, with a flourish and arrogant swagger, rakish and waistcoated, the effortless cool of 70's Bowie and the energy and verve of a man less than half his age. As the first part of the set was a run-through of "Talk Talk Talk" in order, "Pretty In Pink", the quintessential 80's pop song, was next, superbly embellished by Mars Williams' mighty sax work. The sax, indeed, was the primary colour of most of the set; the Furs, never a guitar-heavy band, tonight relied heavily on Williams to give their material the essential element of late night sleaze, and he delivered to a "T". The headlong rollercoaster ride of "Mr. Jones" was another notable highlight of this first set, although an aching "She Is Mine", during which I leant forward and shook the angular, energetic Butler's hand, ran it close.

A break followed, during which I chatted to a fellow Furs devotee, lamenting the seeming lack of interest down the front from this nevertheless full crowd. T'uh, yokels... Anyway, the Furs returned with a dark, brooding "Sister Europe", then reprised some classics; the frenetic 80's late-night dance of "Heartbeat" (prompting me to shout, "fuck me, Butler, that was good!"), the soaring, anthemic "Heaven", and my highlight, the encore "President Gas", seething with sleaze, glamour and sinister power, with supreme frontman Butler's stretched nasal vocal delivery as prominent as his elastic and kinetic stage moves, and brother Tim, a Mickey Rourke-alike towering monolith on bass, a constant and imposing presence alongside. Final number "India", another rollercoaster ride through the deliciously seamy and elemental side of rock'n'roll, finally saw a mosh break out, the hitherto static Frome crowd finally giving the Furs the kudos they'd deserved all along, for another colossal performance.

Collected my thoughts before heading home through the inky countryside, reflecting on this band; The Psychedelic Furs, growing old magnificently, and still able to deliver after 30 years. Colossal, yet again!

795 TRACY BONHAM, BLEU, Jim Boggia, London WC2 Borderline, Saturday 23 October 2010

2011-02-06T10:44:00.002Z

A consecutive night gig double, representing the 2 key building blocks of my musical taste; tomorrow it's the 80's post-punk rockism of the Psychedelic Furs, but firstly some Boston Rock! Tracy Bonham, who I followed around slavishly in 1996 due both to a splendidly angry, agitated, angular and angsty post-grunge album "The Burdens Of Being Upright", and to the presence of Phil Hurley in her backing band, but had since lost touch with somewhat; touring with Bleu, a fine and varied tunesmith whom we'd seen in Boston in 2001 in all his riff-heavy, stomping post-Rumble glory, but since then had tempered this with an easy melodic feel that was mellower, almost McCartneyesque on record. Research suggested 2 stripped back, either solo or acoustic sets at the intimate old Tex Mex bar, so an intriguing prospect...

I hit the road solo at 5, whipping through Saturday M4 traffic and parking up early, then navigating my way around the hole in the ground that used to be the Astoria (!) and hitting the venue at 8, wandering in midway through opener Jim Boggia. A Philly native and James Horrigan lookalike, he played some quiet yet quality Dylanesque folky stuff, with a fine voice and self-deprecatory attitude, which was really well received from the quite full early doors Borderline. A good start!

I cornered Tracy, jogging her memory with a pic Phil took of the 2 of us back in the day, and we had a nice if brief chat. As I was stage front at this point, I stayed there for Bleu, next up. Whilst he set up, I couldn't resist dropping a copy of that 2001 set-list over tonight's, prompting a, "holy shit! That's an old one!" from him! As for the set, Bleu displayed both supreme melodic songcraft with a splendidly chosen set of heartfelt, memorable tunes from his more recent albums (including new release "Four" which I picked up tonight), and an extraordinary voice and range, holding notes impressively. A lovely "Come And Go", embellished (as was his whole set) with some nice but not overpowering loops and pedal effects, was followed by, "one I wasn't going to do tonight, but I've had so many requests for"; my favourite, the strident, soaring "I Won't Go Hollywood", which held up well minus the riffery on record! The finale saw Bleu operating a "Carry A Tune" musical mic, and wandering through the captivated crowd. Showmanship and entertainment of the highest quality, and he went down a storm!

I hung back and spoke to Bleu a couple of times, telling him about Logan's "poppy day day" song (based on his own "Workaday Day") and we chatted about the Pills and swapped Boston rock stories. Popped back down for Tracy's set, which inevitably suffered in comparison with Bleu but was fine, darker and more thoughtful, with Tracy's rich, low voice a perfect embellishment. Not as angry and confrontational as her older material, the new stuff nevertheless was varied and intriguing, with the highlight of her set a lovely "Something Beautiful". This however was preceded by Bleu and Jim Boggia joining her onstage (a theme throughout all 3 performances) for a new number, and a fine bit of banter between the two boys about a missing guitar lead!

So Bleu won the day for me, and I whipped home in double quick time following chats and thanks with all 3 performers. No time for too much ligging, as I've got another one tomorrow!

794 EX SIMPLE MINDS, Oxford Academy 2, Monday 6 September 2010

2011-02-06T10:42:00.002Z

I'm used to receiving looks of bafflement when I say Simple Minds, latterly the epitome of bloated stadium rock boredom and the template for the similarly turgid likes of Coldplay, were, over the span of their first 4 albums, the most innovative band on the planet. Constantly evolving their sound from their early glam Roxy pop, through monotone yet experimental and intriguing industrial rock, synth-led krautrock to glossy and expansive European dancey rock, they were chameleonic, challenging and immensely talented, and a band and period I constantly return to, particularly with the likes of Editors following a similar template in adding European synth layers to their 80's guitar rockisms. So I was really looking forward to this one; Ex Simple Minds, namely Derek Forbes and Brian McGhee, 2 of the architects of that sound, promising to exclusively hark back to those halcyon days? Thanks, I do!

Unfortunately no-one else did, so I travelled own on my own in filthy weather and bad traffic, with excitement tinged by some trepidation. This could be a triumph, with the sonic template faithfully recreated by the original Minds. Alternatively it could be a disaster, as, shorn of vocalist Jim Kerr's sweeping and expansive stage presence (let's face it, when I danced at Level 3 back in those days, I just wanted to be Jim Kerr) and with McGhee's brother, 80's popster Owen "My Favourite Waste Of Time" Paul a poor substitute, they could just be a bad tribute band.

The truth, happily, turned out most emphatically to be the former. I caught half of support Dead Jerichos' young Jam/ Enemy-like push'n'shove speedy rock (nice energy and attitude lads, now write some tunes to go with it), then meandered down the front for the entrance of Ex Simple Minds at 9.15, not needing to barge anyone out of the way as this was very poorly attended; about 40 people in total! Nevertheless, the band arrived, easing into the expansive European soundscape of instrumental opener "Themes From Great Cities", then vocalist Owen Paul's (ah yes, more of him shortly) arrival coincided with the unmistakable synth pulse intro of "Love Song", and we were away. The delicious strident robotic dance of "Changeling" followed (disappointingly the only track on "Real To Real Cacophony" all night), all seething power and conviction, as did the itchy, insistent "I Travel", initially disappointingly thin, but strident and powerful by the conclusion.

In fact, power and conviction were the order of the day for this performance; despite the poor turnout the band "gave it loads" old style, relishing the chance to play these classic Minds songs to a small but enthusiastic crowd. None more so than vocalist Owen Paul; despite my concerns he was an effervescent and committed frontman, his slightly higher and rougher vocal style adding more weight to the live performance. A brilliant double-header of "The American" and a gorgeous, sparkling "Someone Somewhere In Summertime" was the highlight of the set, before a deviation into the latterday stadium anthems of "Waterfront" and set closer, "Don't You Forget About Me", a song I liked at the time but which in retrospect marks the point at which Simple Minds started losing the inspiration.

An acoustic encore of "Speed Your Love To Me", a throwaway "Celebrate" and an almost jolly reading of the Velvet's "White Light/ White Heat" preceded a reworked and decidedly spooky "Pleasantly Disturbed" before a sadly inevitable "Alive And Kicking" rounded things off. Overall, I'd have chosen more earlier numbers at the expense of the stadium rock, but I couldn't fault them for passion and commitment. They played them like they owned them - good for you boys! And I got the set-list signed afterwards, by a band willing to chat and listen to suggestions for the set ("Factory"!), so a superb night overall!

793 JONSI, Mountain Man, Bristol Colston Hall, Wednesday 1 September 2010

2011-02-06T10:41:00.002Z

Following last Autumn's splendid Sigur Ros gig at this venue, plus their venture towards more conventional songwriting aligned with their majestic and ethereal grasp of melody, I'd been paying more attention to them; thus it was no surprise that I'd leapt on, and loved, vocalist Jonsi's solo debut. This continued the Sigur Ros journey towards more accessible structure (singing in English, even!), whilst having a real "woodlands" feel to it; part bunnies romping in the dappled sunshine, part dark and mysterious shrouded depths. Made a change from the shagging whalesong, anyway! So I'd similarly leapt on tix for this gig. Unfortunately a combination of a sick babysitter, Rach's work deadlines and not being able to recruit a travelling companion at short notice saw we driving down on my own, hitting the venue at 1/4 to 8 with a ticket to shift! Turned out I wasn't the only one; unlike last year's Sigur Ros sell-out, tickets were still plentiful, as were punters with spares, so I was unable to even give it away! Bah!

Support Mountain Man were anything but; 3 delicate ladies plus one acoustic guitar (a family heirloom, apparently), singing gossamer-thin songs of backwoods heartbreak with nice harmonies, but making the likes of Pedro The Lion seem like Motorhead in the process!

Decamped for a drink, heading back into the busy but by no means full venue for 9, for the entrance of Jonsi. Again betassled but not glittered-up, Jonsi eased slowly into a set which was initially bleak, monochrome and frankly a little dull and dour, with the dark backdrop of tall trees accentuating this claustrophobic feel. Some of the material was also unfamiliar and poor, relying too much on Jonsi's otherworldly cooing and keening voice (which "The Guardian" described better than I could as, "one part Cocteau Twins' Liz Frazer, one part owl"!) to sustain it. However, "Kolnidur", with a welcome upbeat (both in mood and tempo) crescendo, offered hope, and following a break in which Jonsi complimented Bristol's, "lovely city," a soaring and euphoric "Go Do" finally got the gig into full gear. "Boy Lilikoi", almost catchy and hooky, continued the momentum, and "Animal Arithmetic", the best number on the album, was terrific, Jonsi prowling the stage like a wounded fox, growling in righteous fury. This however was topped by the encore, an unfamiliar newie "Sticks And Stones", which was a thrilling and pounding adrenalized wardance, Jonsi donning a native American headdress and whirling dervishly, and a final "Grow Till Tall", all slow-burn seething intensity, Jonsi again performing a dark cloud dance which reflected the angry cumulus backdrop, while the song built to a cacophonous and lengthy white noise crescendo. However, as if wishing to dispel this mood, Jonsi subsequently brought the band back on for a curtain call and bow, relishing the enthusiastic acclaim.

Grabbed a welcome if confusing set-list on the way out after the 1 hour 20 minute overall performance, driving back in double-quick time. Overall, a slightly disappointing black cloud-enveloped landscape for starters, but when the sun breaks through into Jonsi's world, boy does it shine.

792 THE SWINDON BIG ARTS DAY, Lydiard Park, Swindon, Saturday 10 July 2010

2011-02-06T10:39:00.001Z

A day-long outdoor free Festival of local Music and Arts in Swindon - the first of its' kind on this scale in my memory - and I nearly missed it! Thankfully Evan had a party of his own to go to, so cried off a scheduled day visit. Thus I was able to accompany Kasey to her first ever "gig"! It appeared Radio 1's "Big Weekend", held at Lydiard last year, gave impetus for a celebration of the local Music and Arts Scene to be organised, so we drove over in baking sunshine and some welcome cooler cloud cover at 1, wandering into the far field where a smattering of performance tents, stalls and suchlike greeted us. Logan dragged Rachel to the "Dance Tent" (strange boy) and the Circus Skills tent, while I took Kasey over to the "Sugarhill Stage" (a small marquee facing the open field) to check out SLEEPING WITH GIANTS, along with a few dozen other early arrivals. A young lot, they played some pretty 80's style pop/rock, occasionally also Killers-esque when more upbeat, and created a favourable impression.

Ran into Tim who was expecting to perform next up, but ZOIDBERG took the stage instead! It appeared the stage was already running 45 minutes late, which irked Tim and crew somewhat. But hey, teething problems are to be expected, I guess, at the first attempt at this type of event. Zoidberg were Reef-like in their rawk posturing, with a clumsy Beatles "Come Together" cover; not my cup of tea, so we took a wander, running into Asa for a nice chat, and also Andy and Sam!

Back over for THE SHUDDERS at 3. They played a jolly set of their "Pirate Folk"; a combination of easy, laid-back melody, some very familiar sing-along tunes in the jaunty "River Song" and "Dog You Can Kick", plus a couple of very good newies in "Express Man", an alt-country strumalong which saw Tim don a ukulele, and "Shame On You", which had a slow-burn US Alt-Rock feel to it, more reminiscent of Tim's former charges You Are Here! A shame the set was technically beset - Danny's acoustic sounded glaring and dreadful during one early number, and "Shame On You" took 2 goes to do - as this was a fitting set for a lazy Summer vibe. Kasey and Logan both loved it, both dancing down the front for a few numbers. Chips off the old block!

Chatted with the boys afterwards whilst INTERLIGHT kicked off a competent covers set with the Arctic Monkeys "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor", then wandered around looking for Andy and Sam again, eventually finding them plus friends in the very busy main field in front of Lydiard House, via of course the Beatbullyz bouncy castle, next to the main stage, for Logan! Chilled and had impromptu hot dog tea in the late afternoon sun, while former Brunel DJ Sandy Martin (a man I'd hassled to play Adam And the Antz in the Brunel main hall some 30 years previously!) buzzed around getting vox pops on the day for BBC Wiltshire from me, Andy and Sam. It's been welcome, hope they repeat it! This sentiment was repeated by Sean of BUSWELL ("this should be an annual event, would you not agree?"), as they kicked off the evening's proceedings with their string based mood music. However languid and mellow this vibe was, however, our kids were getting tired and fractious so we had to leave. Had to go via the balloon stand, as the dog balloon Andy bought for Logan earlier had slipped off his wrist, teaching me a) a new definition of heartbreak as Logan howled as it evaded his grasp, and b) that a shoelace knot won't keep a helium balloon attached to a child! Still, Logan got a dinosaur replacement which comforted him, so the day ended a success for us - and hopefully for everyone. A few teething troubles, as one would expect, but a fun and very well attended Big Arts Day for Kasey's first gig - hopefully the first of many!

791 THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM, Talking Atlantic, Oxford Academy, Tuesday 29 June 2010

2011-02-06T10:38:00.002Z

Rach and I had a problematic journey for this one; a slowish drive along the A421 due to traffic and roadside crowds waiting for a military cortege, then a long queue to get into Oxford city centre, and finally a totally rammed Tesco car park requiring us to park down a dodgy looking side street. But hey, at least it was better than my last attempt to get to a Gaslight Anthem gig; on that occasion, last February, I didn't even get to set off to Bristol thanks to heavy snow and impassable roads!

So we hit the venue over an hour after setting off, getting into the impossibly crammed venue as the main support were exhuming the ghost of clumsy shouty Emo. I copped some flak from Rach by complaining they were loud; "you're at a gig, what d'you expect?" But hey, I know what I meant; loud as in clumsily riffy and shouty, and not sounding good at all. Whiled away their interminable set watching World Cup footy on the TVs behind the bar, and trying to establish a small bit of space near the back by the mixing desk.

If anything, the already-heaving venue became fuller still for the entrance of the Gaslight Anthem, a little late at 9.25. Four black-clad tattooed New Jersey oiks who are riding high on a wave of Springsteen-endorsed press approval and a strident new CD "American Slang", which encapsulates their vision and ambition. On record, they're the missing link between the Hold Steady's vignettes of angst-ridden American Teenhood set to joyous bar room blues rock, and Jimmy Eat World's shiny and heart-tuggingly memorable Emo pop. However they really come alive onstage, with a cracking, strident and kinetic performance filled with commitment and passion. Opener "American Slang" set the tone for this set, which was packed with big, expansive, driving with the top down on a wide open highway radio rock, and emotive, arms and lighters/ mobile phones aloft, stadium anthems in waiting. "Old White Lincoln" featured a pregnant pause (one of many such excellent devices scattered throughout), and the opening section, drawn heavily from the new CD, also featured devotional sing-alongs from the frenzied crowd reminiscent of Dashboard Confessional's all-inclusive events. A brilliant "59 Sound" was followed by a preamble from vocalist Brian Fallon about an "Onion" article detailing the "other side" of the blues, "blues-man's ex wife claims, "I am not a mean-hearted woman and I did not do him wrong!"" A blistering "Boxer" followed, all power and passion, but that was topped by a superb sing-along "Great Expectations", catchy as flu and amphetamine-fast, and for me the highlight of the set, which was closed out perfectly by another communal sing-along, this time to the slow-burn-to-crescendo "When We Were Young", a U2 "With Or Without You" sound-alike and surely a Wembley show closer of the future. Brilliant stuff.

Then, to prove it is possible to have too much of a good thing, The Gaslight Anthem stretched their encore to about 8 or 9 more numbers, throwing in stripped back acoustic stuff as well as a smattering from their punkier early "Sink Or Swim" material, punctuated by Fallon, achingly sincere and clearly in his element, underlining their DIY ethic ("we stuck our own labels on our records; those are the bands you connect with because we're just like you!") and offering Russell Brand out for a fight! Good stuff but a little unnecessary, and paling in comparison to the preceding set. So, a 1 hour 40 minute total performance which was great, but would have been untouchable at 1 hour 15, saw us leaving after 11, sweaty but nevertheless enthused. Here's a band that matter, and are hopefully going places in a hurry!

790 THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS "Here Comes Science" Family Show, London Royal Festival Hall, Saturday 26 June 2010

2011-02-06T10:35:00.004Z

So, US indie pop masters of all that is quirky, geeky (in a clever rather than nerdish sense) and unorthodox, They Might Be Giants, hit the UK again after a 5 year hiatus with 2 shows on the same day, the evening gig a "normal" one (insofar as how close TMBG ever get to being normal!), and a matinee "family" performance showcasing their recent kid-orientated output, particularly current CD "Here Comes Science". TMBG had always had a jokey, abstract humour to their offbeat and instantly memorable US-alt indie pop tunes, so output targeted at a younger audience was a logical extension. This then was a great opportunity to take my 12 year old son Evan to his first ever gig; we'd been playing "No!" to him in the car since he was 5, and he'd enjoyed it so much he'd since "graduated" to TMBG's "adult" releases, but was nevertheless well up for this!

So, I picked him up from North Wales Friday, and we caught the train to London on a baking hot Saturday morning. Over to Embankment via Notting Hill Record Exchange to flog some old vinyl, hitting the South Bank in good time for packed lunch by the banks of the Thames, and a wander around a couple of exhibitions; in keeping with the "Science" theme, The Festival Hall was hosting a Science Fayre with lots of interactive stands, and also a "Flying Dinosaurs" exhibit with models of various Pterodactyls! This killed time enjoyably until we were called into the auditorium at 10 to 2. Took our seats about 2/3 back in the stalls, stage left, with a great view not only of the stage, but of a fantastic radio-controlled helium filled flying penguin circling the hall! Lots of families and kids in the crowd; Evan may actually have been one of the older kids present, as a 6 year old girl bounced in her seat behind me, excitedly exclaiming "I love this band!"

The 5-piece They Might Be Giants took the stage at 1/4 past 2, easing into "Fibber Island" from their first "kids" CD, 2002's "No!" The sound was understandably more muted than for a "normal" gig, the house lights were dimmed but on pretty much throughout, and the set concentrated on the kid-orientated material, particularly "Here Comes Science". Nevertheless, TMBG didn't make too many concessions in their performance; an intermittent confetti cannon (particularly during a surprising "Older") and a lot of audience participation stuff is normal practice for them, and the offbeat humour was evident throughout. A splendid "813 Mile Road Trip" segueing into "Dr. Worm" was an early highlight, although the subsequent "Polka" lost a lot of it's normal oomph. "Why Does The Sun Shine?" was a silly "Pirate cabaret" version, with the 2 Johns adopting comedy "aaarrrr" accents and changing lyrics around to suit the pirate theme. "The Avatars Of They", a couple of sock puppets projected onto a big screen, were a funny interlude, particularly during encore "Stalk Of Wheat", and a final "Alphabet Of Nations", with a few alternative nations thrown in(!) was my highlight of a thoroughly entertaining set.

"We know what a long term commitment getting a child into a car can be," said enthusiastic frontman John Flansburgh at the end of the set, as a final confetti shower drew the 1 hour 20 performance to a close. We trotted down the front, picking our way through kids grabbing handfuls of confetti, and grabbed a set-list, before kicking around the Science stands one more time then heading back on the train. Not the usual TMBG gig, but enjoyable nevertheless from my perspective; and more importantly Evan thought it was "brilliant!"

789 JULIAN COPE, Bristol Thekla, Monday 7 June 2010

2011-02-06T10:35:00.001Z

Julian Cope on a boat! A random look on headheritage.com brought this one to my attention, thus blowing any debate about which gig to go to in early June (Teenage Fanclub, Band Of Horses, even The Damned were playing relatively locally and under consideration) out of the water, as it were. So, with babysitter in situ, Rachel and I headed down a showery M4 to renew acquaintances, after a 5 year gap, with a true musical genius, visionary and total acid-fried barmcake.

Arrived just before 8 after a slight diversion in drizzle, but that didn't dampen our spirits as we went on board and explored the boat properly. I'd only been here the once before and didn't take the opportunity then, but for Rach this was a first, so we got a drink and enjoyed the view from the upper deck bar, overhearing stories from the barmaid about inflatable Santas on adjacent boats being used as bottle target practice by Thekla locals!

Down into the dirty black bowels of the ships and to a good spot stage left for the announced entrance of, "from Wessex, England, Julian H Cope!" at 8.30 prompt. Clad in military black leather, bare-armed, straggly of hair and topped with a Gestapo officers peaked cap and the obligatory sunglasses, he cut a hugely imposing figure as he strode onstage extolling his new pet project, "Lives Of The Prophets; A New Perspective!" Donning a garish green acoustic and alternating between this and a bank of keyboards to perform, he was his old bullish, extrovert and articulate self, as driven, captivating and downright entertaining as any performer I've seen, evidenced by the deathly hush in between songs as he monologued about subjects such as Jesus, the paranoia of success, and whether or not to accept a Mojo Inspiration Award for The Teardrop Explodes from the apparently hated Jools Holland ("I think it's because we've not gotten back together - if I'd have known it was that easy I would have under-achieved some more!") with the confident yet riveting patter of a top-drawer stand-up comedian. Only funnier!

And as for the music, well this was a marvellously chosen set selected from his poppier, more accessible canon of work, ranging from the plaintive, touching balladry of "I'm Your Daddy", to a raucous, sing-along "Sunspots", via a heart-wrenching, keyboard led "Head Hang Low", a startlingly bouncy "Read It In Books" and the supreme pure pop of, "the obligatory Julian Cope ba ba ba song," namely "Greatness And Perfection". But each one was a bulls-eye tonight, a masterful collection of Cope's neo-psychedelic yet extraordinarily accessible, memorable and catchy pure pop, revealed in this "naked artist" environment as the stunning gems they all are.

A gig-etiquette debate with the audience as to whether to go off for the encore, or simply plough on given the Thekla's strict curfew, saw Cope stay on and deliver a startlingly rocky, effects-pedal smothered "Out Of My Mind On Dope And Speed" before the denouement, a menacing "Sleeping Gas" accompanied by "Big Nige", a leather-clad San Francisco gay biker lookalike banging a huge bass drum bearing the legend "your brain is the best form of entertainment" and roadie "Acoustika" waving a red and black flag. After this song, climaxing a breathtakingly short hour and a half, he strode offstage as he had arrived, with "Lives Of The Prophets" on his lips and an ovation from the faithful ringing in his ears.

Wonderful stuff. A nasty drive back in spray after this early finish didn't detract from what was a superb night out, and another demonstration of the supreme performer's craft, from Julian Cope - on a boat!

I've brainstormed last night and tried to remember the se, in the absence of a set-list (the only one was taped to the back of Cope's green acoustic, and he kept revising it, saying at one point that, "this is the point at which I realise all these songs are shit!") I might have got a couple of songs the wrong way around, but this is what I recall the set being;

I'm Living In The Bunker They Found Saddam In
The Bloody Assizes
Like Leila Khaled Said
I'm Your Daddy
Head Hang Low
Sunspots
Autogeddon Blues
O King Of Chaos
Promised Land
Soul Desert
Screaming Secrets
Read It In Books
Double Vegetation
Greatness And Perfection
Out Of My Mind On Dope And Speed
Las Vegas Basement
Sleeping Gas

788 MIDWAY STILL, Hotel 75, Band Of Burt, Swindon Victoria, Friday 14 May 2010

2011-02-06T10:34:00.002Z

The welcome return to Swindon for 90's live favourites Midway Still, a band who after a "slight return" a few years back with a sprinkling of gigs and a single, "Fuck You", now seem to be upping the ante a little more seriously, with a new CD "Note To Self" out on Boss Tuneage and a return to town organised by uber-fan Tim, who roped me into writing the blurb for the Vic website! So I took a drive up the hill after the kids went to bed, hitting the bar early doors and hanging out with Tim and the Still boys before they shot off to watch the footy. I'd brought along copies of a few of their set-lists from back in the day, which amazed and amused - luckily they couldn't recall the drunken oik who crashed backstage at the Link in 1993 with a "Grunge Is Dead" t-shirt and stars'n'stripes shorts on!

Hung out with Tim on the door of the back-room venue as people meandered in and out during the 2 local supports, Band Of Burt who weren't my cup of Zappa-esque challenging bluesy tea but did their stuff well, and Hotel 75, who were punkish and clumsy and didn't. Honestly though, I didn't pay too much attention really, as I was chatting to Tim, Penny and crew!

Took a wander down the front when The Still were due onstage at 10.30, in front of a poor turnout (Swindon punters, bah!) of nevertheless enthusiastic folks. The Still, thankfully, didn't let that dampen their spirits as they set to their task with commendable conviction, drummer Dec in particular flailing furiously and propelling this rock behemoth along like a high-octane jet engine. I'd previously talked with Dec about Taang! Records and Boston pre-grunge rock, and in a sense Midway Still are kindred spirits to the likes of Dinosaur Jr., early Buffalo Tom and Lemonheads etc., aligning their amphetamine-fast, supercharged guitar overload with ridiculously easy and catchy melodies - a "bat's ear for a tune amongst all the guitar fuzz", indeed! "Counting Days" was a groovy early highlight, and the set, punctuated by their self-deprecating banter and some piss-poor jokes from Dec, was laid back yet noisy, thrilling and a whole barrel of fun, and sounding as good as I've ever heard the Still. New numbers from "Note To Self" were prime chunks of catchy guitar rock, showing that even after all this time, the apples still don't fall too far from the tree; yet oldies like the Husker Du-esque "What You Said", the groovy "Disappear" and the phenomenal "Better Than Before", as uplifting and sing-along as ever, won the day and got me rocking as best I could down the front, given my seriously buggered knee. Great to see The Still with their appetite for the simple joy of playing rock'n'roll well and truly restored!

Hung out a bit afterwards, grabbing congratulatory words with the boys and an elated Tim, and getting my second signed set-list in as many nights, before the time caught up with this veteran. Nevertheless, a real welcome return, and hopefully not the last time The Still come back to town!

787 MISSION OF BURMA, Endless Boogie, London Camden Dingwalls, Thursday 13 May 2010

2011-02-06T10:32:00.002Z

The noisy May continues with an ear-splitting double-header. Tomorrow it's The Still, but tonight a rare visit from Boston agit-noise pioneers Mission Of Burma, whose recent "The Sound The Speed The Light" CD Boston buddy EdV had a hand in producing. Hit the road at 6, sheepishly driving up due to my dodgy knee, nevertheless getting to Camden at 8 but then having a parking-mare and eventually dumping the motor behind Camden Gardens, so not hitting the venue till 8.30. I immediately wished I hadn't, as the singularly appropriately named support Endless Boogie, a bunch of hoary old acid casualties, were playing an interminably long and dreadful blues number called "Mama" which took over 20 minutes! At the end of their set, the band started packing up but the vocalist was still talking to the crowd and introducing the next number! Get off, old man, you're really not on this planet...

I took a wander down this tiered venue to the front, pitching up stage right behind a couple who'd driven down from Newcastle for the gig! Man, I thought my journey sucked... this however set the tone for this gig, as Mission Of Burma were received onstage with an almost frenzied level of devotion from the crowd of bookish indie types mostly sporting Sonic Youth t-shirts, as they ripped into opener "1-2-3 Partyyy", the anthemic, most accessible track from their new CD.

I wasn't sure what to expect from this legendary bunch of grizzled Boston rock veterans; Mission Of Burma were originally an early 80's post-punk art noise group strongly reminiscent of Wire, sharing their unorthodoxy, staccato military drumbeats and clipped, almost barked guitar and voice, yet producing 2 utterly classic new wave anthems in "Academy Fight Song" and "That's When I Reach For My Revolver". Reforming in 2002, they've since produced 3 albums of challenging, confrontational noise, and this set exemplified their uncompromising, intense approach. Swapping vocals between rakish bassist Clint Conley, monolith and bandleader Roger Miller and ex-Volcano Sun (and bandmate of Big Dipper's Gary Waleik!) drummer Peter Prescott, their set was kinetic and thrilling, played with a fury that belied the band's age. "This Is Hi-Fi" was a stridently chanted mid-set highlight, before the distinctive sinister growl and intense release of "Revolver", late set, greeted with frenzied acclaim. Encores of "The Ballad Of Johnny Burma" and a brilliantly anthemic "Academy Fight Song" however topped that, closing out a triumphant set perfectly. MOB's Wikipedia entry quotes Boston critic Tristram Lozaw referring to their legendary live inconsistency as, "you never knew whether you were going to get one of the most spectacular experiences of your life or if it was going to be a ball of incomprehensible noise." Tonight definitely veered to the former!

Afterwards, I got soundman and 4th member Bob Weston's set-list signed by the band, who all made complimentary remarks about my Big Dipper t-shirt and agreed to send my regards to Boston and Q Division. Also got to hang, albeit briefly, with London friend Lisa Moore, before setting off at 11. A long journey home, and more rock tomorrow...

786 DINOSAUR JR. Built To Spill, Oxford Carling Academy, Saturday 8 May 2010

2011-02-06T10:30:00.001Z

This one - a late call due to Evan deciding not to come down for the weekend - was also an unfortunate first; after my dodgy knee collapsed this morning, this became the first gig I attended with a walking stick! Crikey!

Tim picked me up at 6 and we hit the venue very early, grabbing a drink and catching up as the venue filled. First band on for this joint-headliner gig was US alt-indie veterans Built To Spill, a band featuring on a long list of bands I really should like but don't, along with the likes of Pavement, Guided By Voices, The Beatles (!) etc. etc. Their set started off unobtrusively, with some Death Cab For Cutie-lite melody, which neither overwhelmed or underwhelmed, but just "whelmed". Thereafter, their hour long set became dull, clumsy and interminable, and Tim and I were glad to have bumped into Mark and Andy, to provide some respite by chatting!

We stayed in our good viewing position at the back of the venue, behind the mixing desk, for Dinosaur Jr., on at 9.15 prompt. Last heard (or endured) by these ears 5 years ago, when time and a flippin' great wodge of cash had healed all wounds, bringing back together the original line-up of mainman and gnarled noisenik J Mascis, Sebadoh frontman and sensitive indie boy Lou Barlow, and meaty and metronomic drummer Murph, they'd since soldiered on as a functioning unit, dragging out a couple of new CDs. Tonight, however, these were largely ignored in favour of a retro set of their relentlessly noisy, viscerally exciting yet laid-back and laconic slacker laze-rock, delivered by an immobile yet furiously riffing J and the pounding rhythm section, with Lou the main visual focal point, flinging his mop of curly hair around with abandon. An early "Lung" was an unexpectedly groovy pleasure, and "Feel The Pain" brought back Level 3 mid-90's memories with it's pace changes and wig-out strident chorus. The best was saved for last, though with a final oldie triumvirate of "Little Fury Things"; a brilliantly delivered and seriously groovy "Raisans", highlight of the night for me in the sad absence of my favourite Dinosaur number "The Wagon"; and the inevitable "Freak Scene", a little sloppy but well received by the mosh, J leaving the final hook open for the Dinosaur massive to sing along.

Overall a fine set, worth the pain and hassle of the walking stick. Dinosaur Jr. on cruise and collect mode maybe, but still prime purveyors of "ear bleeding country"!

785 ASH, Bristol Academy, Friday 30 April 2010

2011-02-06T10:29:00.002Z

An early trip to Bristol tonight to see perennially youthful Irish powerpoppers Ash, a couple of years after their last go-round proper. Since then, with the "mature" new direction of disappointing album "Twilight Of The Innocents" yielding no results, Ash had retreated from the normal recording and touring process, preferring instead to issue a series of singles under an "A-Z" banner via fortnightly internet download only, accompanied by a similar A-Z tour of tiny venues at the end of last year, which predictably not only sold out but also came nowhere near Swindon! So this, along with a compilation CD of the first 13 "A-Z" singles, heralded a return to the "normal" rock'n'roll grind.

Rach and I popped down at 1/4 to 7, arriving at the venue an hour later following slow traffic into Bristol, to find that we'd missed both supports! A shame, as I was wanting to check out "South Africa's finest rock band" The Parlotones, but an upside was that we only had 1/4 hour to wait for Ash, due onstage at 8pm! We took a spot stage left on the 3/4 full floor for their prompt arrival, the usual trio, augmented by guest multi-instrumentalist Russell Lissack of Bloc Party, bursting into spritely opener "Lose Control". From the off the band were showing much more hunger and desire than a frustratingly moribund Bristol crowd, with Mark Hamilton in particular throwing dynamic Johnny Ramone shapes with his low-sling bass, so when a breathless Tim Wheeler introduction for second number, my favourite Ash song "A Life Less Ordinary", was met with similar apathy, I grabbed Rach and we piled down the front, creating a mini-mosh of our own!

Thus followed a set of two halves for us; the first was a joyous 3/4 hour of jumping up and down like loons down the front, with a splendid view of the onstage shenanigans. An early "Goldfinger" was a jumpabout sing-along anthem, "Petrol" was breathless as ever, the underrated, almost soulful "Shining Light" was as good as I've ever seen them play, and jagged newie "Joy Kicks Darkness" came across superbly live, the soaring chorus taking flight and really resonating around the venue. The second was less enjoyable, as with the header-edged pounding intro of "Orpheus", the place suddenly and unexpectedly went nuts, so we got out of the suddenly lad-flooded mosh to a vantage point stage right, behind some huge big-haired bloke! Bah!

The band could hardly be blamed for that though; they were on top form throughout with a splendid performance of their fresh, sing-along, flippant and spunky punky powerpop, with their new, more 80's influenced and occasionally keyboard embellished numbers (notably "True Love 1980" which came across like an OMD track!) sprinkled throughout the set, and really holding their own quality- and chorus-wise with punky oldies like "Kung Fu" and the Ramones-like "Walking Barefoot". Set closer "Return Of White Rabbit" ("we debuted this one at the Thekla", said Tim) saw a great set to a close, the only downside of which was an overlong cover of Weezer's "Only In Dreams".

Encores included a frantic "Jack Names The Planets", an unexpected and startlingly epic "Twilight Of The Innocents" (the only song played all night off their last album proper) and unmistakable final number, the signature chime of "Burn Baby Burn", after which the boys took a deserved bow and I grabbed a surprisingly easy set-list, my first for Ash after 13 attempts! A fine end to a splendid night, confirming Ash are back to their flippant, poppy best. Great stuff!

784 JAMES, Unkle Bob, Bristol Colston Hall, Thursday 15 April 2010

2011-02-06T10:25:00.003Z

This one represented a birthday excursion for Rachel to see one of her favourite bands, and a chance for me to revisit an old live staple; James, 80's quirky yet introverted student indie pop elves turned post-baggy early 90's stadium bores, who nevertheless partly resurrected themselves last time out, back in 1995, with a vintage Reading Fest mainstage set. Since split and reformed, how would 2010 find Tim Booth, the little chap who wandered onstage 26 years ago and started to sing plaintively, "an earwig crawled into my ear..."?

We left at 7 for a quick drive down, discussing the "Sit Down" problem. How would James approach the issue of this, the definitive baggy indie anthem, yet an overplayed, overexposed "millstone" number, this time out? After throwing it in mid-set on Rach's last James gig a couple of years ago, prior to which they'd left it out altogether and apparently rather nastily heckled a punter calling for it, I was all for getting it over with quickly in the set. Let's see... We parked up in good time to pop in for the support Unkle Bob, who were pleasant, inoffensive 80's strum-along indie-lite, with a couple of beefier numbers amidst the innocuous jangle.

We had a drink in the bar, Rach necking a couple of birthday Coors and myself bumping into Barney, an old old buddy, before going back in, getting a good spot stage left, for their anticipated arrival at 9. The lights dimmed at the appointed hour, and all eyes went to the stage, then the unmistakable acoustic introduction of "Sit Down" started up... from behind us! Sure enough, the band emerged through the rear stalls exit to a triumphant welcome, wandering down the stalls aisles and greeting folks like a troupe of travelling troubadours, Tim Booth gaunt and goateed, with a woolly tea cosy atop his bald pate, grinning like a loon and relishing this moment. The journey through the enthusiastic, photo-snapping crowd took virtually the whole song, but by the denouement, Booth was onstage, conducting the first huge sing-along of the night, particularly enjoying the line, "those who find themselves ridiculous...!" A very stylish way to dispense with their millstone number.

"Right, that's the introductions out of the way, now let's have a fun evening!" Booth's words were a totally fitting prophesy, as they then played a fine and fun set of their varied canon of work, ranging from the innocently jaunty and ramshackle (an early and welcome "Hymn From A Village"), through the haunting and anthemic (a huge "Tomorrow", prompting another mass sing-along), to the jagged and moody (a splendid slow-burn "Out To Get You", climaxing in some virtuoso violin work from Saul Davies, and the dark, disturbing oldie "Stutter", generously dedicated to the folks who used to come see James at the Bierkeller in the 80's. Thanks Tim!). Booth was the focal point throughout, staccato dancing with the energy of a man half his age, and yes, playing the stadium showman perfectly. Set closer "Sometimes" was immense, the largest sing-along of the night, with the band downing instruments and letting the crowd take the climactic hook for what seemed like ages, before concluding the song to a triumphant roar.

Encores "Say Something", another anthemic sing-along, and final number "Laid", quirky and ramshackle as ever, put the icing on the cake. Rach loved it, which was only fitting, and as for me? Well, faith well and truly restored, hopefully it won't be 15 years before I see this lot again!

783 EDITORS, Coldcave, Cardiff University, Sunday 21 March 2010

2011-02-06T10:15:00.002Z

Barely 5 months after my last Editors "live" experience, they're doing the rounds again, this time pitching up in towns omitted from their October 2009 tour itinerary. Thus it was that I headed down to Cardiff on my own on a Sunday evening, this being the nearest this tour passed to Swindon, but still too far away for Rach to join me!

A dodgy journey down, including roadworks virtually the whole length of the M4 in Wales and a weird - pitch black! - motorway exit, nevertheless saw me parking up at 8 in the boulevard behind the Uni, wandering around this labyrinthine venue to the hall, unfortunately just in time to catch all of support Coldcave's set. They were terrible; a depressing synth-based mob whose ideas seemed to stem from a rummage through OMD's dustbins, then swathed in unnecessary white noise. One passable number, which recalled Depeche Mode, was lost in the slew of morose dullness.

Took a good central viewing spot about 3/4 back in this wide venue, behind a couple of amiable young ladies, for Editors entrance, dead on my predicted 9.15. Straight into the pulsing sheet metal synth of "In This Light And On This Evening", the opener and title track to their fascinating recent album, which by introducing the synth dynamic to their dark, brooding little post-punk rockist epics, has augmented and advanced their sound bravely and notably. That said, this rendition was disappointingly thin, lacking the power and strident oomph of the album version, as did the subsequent "Lights". By third number, the itchy, insistent "An End Has A Start", however, the set started taking off, and by the reconstructed Krautrock "Camera" and purposeful, jerky "Blood", they were in full flight, vocalist Tom Smith's deliciously dark baritone issuing forth his occasionally preposterous lyrics and supplementing a kinetic frontman performance. After an anthemic "Racing Rats" which really set the place rocking, a dark, urgent "Munich" set the table for a final "Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors", the zenith of their canon of work, which was probably the best number I've seen them play, finally sounding as good as it's always sounded in my head, the whirling maelstrom denouement soaring, epic and glorious, closing the set majestically.

They could have left it there for me, but, after a solo piano number from Tom, a thrilling final triumvirate of the none-more-Europop "Bricks And Mortar", the robotic synth of "Papillion", which sent shards of jagged sound around the hall, and strident closer "Factories", all had me rocking out frantically to the best British band currently making music. I appreciate given the paucity of the opposition, this is damning them with faint praise, but hey, you can only compete with who's around, and for me, in this light and on this evening Editors would be absolute top-liners in any age!

A nightmare journey back too, which involved puzzling and circuitous diversions, traffic queues and 30mph roadworks on the M4 at the dead of night. But thankfully Editors were well worth the (considerable) hassle!

782 THE MEN THEY COULDN'T HANG, Swindon 12 Bar, Wednesday 17 March 2010

2011-02-06T10:14:00.002Z

Oh yes, they're back... The Men They Couldn't Hang, "80's punk folk long-stayers", according to the Guardian, who following a couple of poor gigs from bands of similar vintage last year, restored my faith in my musical heritage with a fun and rocking set at the 12 Bar. And they're back again, 6 months almost to the day, for a special St. Patrick's Night show to pay homage to their own Irish-tinged musical heritage!

So I wandered down, meeting up with Rich, Ady and an excited Phil, hyper happy that his second favourite band of all time (after the Smiths, of course!) were back for another go round here. Chatted and chilled in the bar while the support, a bunch of fiddly diddly old lags who'd evidently fought the pub rock wars and lost, played to a mostly empty venue.

We took a wander in and down the front for the entrance of The Men, a shade after 9.30, to a ¾ full but enthusiastic crowd. A very early surprise was that co-vocalist Stefan Cush (who Rich had given stick to earlier for being a Portsmouth FC fan!) announced they’d specifically requested to come back for this show, as they had such a great time and were so bowled over by the audience reaction at the last show! So the feeling was indeed mutual…

Thereafter followed another 2 hours of whole-hearted entertainment, easy and very funny banter and piss-taking, and splendid honest renditions of their Irish-tinged, punk-influenced songs of civil uprising, freedom and rite-of-passage, so familiar and evocative of my early 20’s. Sing-along versions of the likes of “Ghosts Of Cable Street” and a chilling “Shirt Of Blue” were interspersed with tall tales from TMTCH’s 25 years of rock’n’roll, such as the story of co-vocalist Swill jumping onto his drummer brother's back in an NYC bar, singing their then US tour anthem, "I'm a Homo Truck Driving Man", only to discover... it wasn't his brother!

The set took a similar pattern to the last 12 Bar gig, with Swill delivering a stirring acapella “Barratt’s Privateer” midway through, before “Smugglers” got the mosh (which Phil and I had occupied throughout) swaying along and singing lustily again. An unexpected “Rosettes” and a strident, punky “Going Back To Coventry” ignited the crowd again, but the absolute best was saved for last. Having been forced to omit “Ironmasters” (shame!) after they’d seriously run over time, a brilliantly stirring “Green Fields Of France”, a haunting and emotive anti-war anthem, closed out the set gloriously, with the crowd (some of whom had joined the band onstage) linking arms and singing along to every word. A real St. Patrick’s Day sing-along, tears-in-the-beers experience!

And that was two hours! Taking us to 11.30, I quickly grabbed the set-list and exited, with Stefan’s eulogistic words of praise for another great Swindon 12 Bar gig ringing in my ears. Another great night out thanks to The Men They Couldn't Hang; long may they return!

781 STIFF LITTLE FINGERS, Bristol Academy, Wednesday 10 March 2010

2011-02-06T10:11:00.002Z

The return of the Mad March to Bristol, Take 5, after a year's hiatus due to my knee operation; it's March, it's the Academy, it must be Stiff Little Fingers! This time old punks the Big Man and myself were ferried along by Ady in his monster truck; amazingly the first time I'd travelled to a gig with Ady since SLF in Frome on my Stag event, over 4 years ago!

After hitting the road about 20 to 8, we parked up relatively easily and got into the venue at 8.30. We'd just missed the support, which turned out to have been similar vintage punks Penetration, no less. D'oh! It would have been nice to hear their classic "Don't Dictate", but t'was not to be...

Rich got the beers in at the manically crowded bar - 2 for himself, after a tortuous wait and expensive outcome - and we popped down to the half-full dancefloor (everyone's at the bar!), to be assailed by the splendid "Guitar And Drum" entrance music heralding Stiff Little Fingers onto the stage at an unusually early 8.45. Bursting into opener "Wasted Life" to a wild reception from the punks, old and young, down the front, they nevertheless seemed to take time to settle in. Indeed, tonight's set seemed a little lower-key than the usual politicised ramalama old school punk we're used to from da Fingers, as it drew from a wider selection of their canon, rather than mainly from the first 2 albums, and vocalist Jake Burns himself, a little more rotund even than just a couple of years ago, was initially not his normal fulsome and politically motivated self. However, a blistering "Barbed Wire Love" changed all that, blowing the doors off with a totally enjoyable rendition of this old classic, "the only love song we've written," according to Jake! The doo-wop section was particularly memorable for some deep baritone harmonising from bassist Ali McMordie, who was clearly having a ball up there as usual.

After that, SLF ripped through the remainder of the set with renewed vigour, a brilliantly strident double whammy of "Nobody's Hero" ("about one of the least enjoyable aspects of our job," said Jake) and "Tin Soldiers" being the highlight. A sinewy, rapturously received "Johnny Was" encored, before "Alternative Ulster" capped another worthwhile 1 1/2 hour set overall, as the boys then took a bow from this Bristol crowd, who'd at least been up for it all night. So overall patchy, seen them better, but still a good night out with good company and honest old school punk rock. Will we back next March? Of course!

780 POWER OF DREAMS, International Jetsetters, Dirty Royals, Oxford Jericho Tavern, Monday 8 March 2010

2011-02-06T10:10:00.001Z

This gig represented the return of two old favourites, and could quite easily have walked out of my 1992 vintage gig book! Proof positive that everyone wants to itch that reunion scratch, here's Power Of Dreams, those young spunky Irish upstarts of early 1990s vintage, who delivered a couple of quite incendiary "live" sets in the early 90's, blowing the House Of Love away at Kilburn, then rocking the Reading 1991 tent with a breathless and breathtaking set of high-octane, soaring anthemic powerpop. Never quite matching that same level of excitement on record, they nevertheless released 2 absolutely classic singles in "Stay" and "100 Ways To Kill A Love", before being subsumed in the post-grunge US rock revolution and falling off my radar. In fact, my last recollection of them was at the Nirvana-dominated Reading 1992, when in an ironic metaphor, they were one of the bands cancelled due to the Tent blowing down! Nevertheless, here they are again - and at the Jericho Tavern, no less, scene of many an 80's/ early 90's gig for me!

I trotted down on my own for this one, remembering the old Jericho beat route perfectly and hitting the venue at 8.30 after a slight parking-mare. Walked into the old, allegedly renovated, upstairs room, which for me still smelt of fanzines, just as first support Dirty Royals, well half of them anyway, took the stage. A acoustic performance as, "one of us is in Hollywood and the other is doing his exams!", they were an unexpected delight, impressing mightily with some chunky 60's influenced melodies and splendid two-part harmonies which recalled the likes of Teenage Fanclub and The Gigolo Aunts, no less. The type of rock which should never go out of fashion but sadly does, which I remarked as I complimented singer Simon after.

Second support International Jetsetters were less palatable; looking like a University Lecturer common room jam session, they played a schizophrenic set veering between primitive punk and 60's SoCal pop, doing neither particularly well.

The place, empty early doors, filled to about 1/2 full as Power Of Dreams set up, and, with little fanfare, took the stage at 10.15 and kicked into opener "Bring You Down". No longer the brash young reprobates of legend, they apologised early doors for being "a little wasted from the curry across the road," and, having not played regularly for 15 or so years, understandably took a little time to settle in. However by "Where Is The Love", they were away, blasting through an amphetamine-fast set based on their debut "Immigrants, Emigrants And Me" which they're touring to celebrate its' 20th anniversary. Now in their stride, they zipped through this set of their trademark short, snappy melodic pop, numbers flashing by like incandescent rocket-powered fireflies. "Stay", comfortably mid-set, got me rocking from my front row spot, and whilst the set, propelled by dynamic flailing sticksman Keith Walker, the MVP for me of this performance, may have lacked some light and shade, predominantly being 100mph colourful pop blasts (a strum-along "Maire" and an unexpectedly reverent cover of the Smiths "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" aside), when the tunes are this good and this dynamically played, who cares? The titanic "100 Ways To Kill A Love", the plaintive chorus echoing around the room, climaxed the set, bookended by a couple of unnecessary but fun encores to cap a soaring and splendid performance.

Despite the lateness of the hour (11.30 by now!) I ran around afterwards to get my hastily-grabbed set list signed and share reminisces with the lads, then was accosted by a chap filming a documentary about the band, and asked to say a few words on film, which was nice. Great to have them back, I said, and it is!

779 THE AUTOMATIC, Straight Lines, We Are Antics, Swindon 12 Bar, Tuesday 2 March 2010

2011-02-06T10:09:00.002Z

The return to gig action of The Mighty Automatic, hosts of a couple of incendiary rock gigs in the past couple of years for us, would normally be cause enough for celebration. The fact that, amazingly, they were playing at the pub venue 12 Bar, a mere 20 minutes walk from our house, was another whole kettle of whoopee altogether!

So, babysitter in situ, Rachel and I had a rare experience of walking to a gig, hitting the venue just after doors at 8. I'd booked tix for this one last November, on announcement of the tour, anticipating a sell-out. However early doors it was very quiet as we slipped in and checked out first support We Are Antics, a painfully young bunch who'd obviously been force-fed a lot of Jam by their dads whilst growing up, judging by the bolshy push'n'shove nature of their music. However. they also admirably tried a couple of more complex song structures, and whilst their reach is far exceeding their grasp at this stage, they left a favourable impression. Good on you, boys, and certainly a better prospect than main support Straight Lines, yet another female fronted Sioux-alike mob riding on Florence And The Machine's coattails, whom we heard from the relative safety of the bar.

We wandered back in at 20 to 10, popping forward primarily to get a better view, but finding ourselves down the front, stage right, with room to move. The place was still only about 3/4 full as the Automatic set up, and when they took the stage at 10, it was to an air of almost indifference from this young Swindon crowd. Very odd! However, the Automatic didn't allow that to affect their performance, and tore into their set with their usual tinder-wolf ferocity. Opener "Interstate" was an almost palpable wall of noise, and oldie "Recover" saw the band rocking out furiously and dynamically to their strident, powerful terrace-chant hooky rock.

"Hello Swindon; we got here (to the pub) at 4 and we've not been anywhere else!" said vocalist Rob, prompting some wag down the front (i.e. me!) to reply, "there's nowhere else worth going!" which drew a chuckle from the boys. Indeed, the band were in good fooling tonight as well as in good hard-rocking form, keyboardist Paul stating the only time he'd come across Swindon before was when STFC beat his hometown team Sunderland at Wembley in 1990! "Raoul" drew Rach and myself into the small young mosh, but 2 numbers later, "Monster", again thrown stylishly and casually in mid-set, blew the doors off with a wonderfully powerful, shoutalong rendition of their "millstone" number. A sprinkling of new numbers from forthcoming album "Tear The Signs Down" demonstrated that the new apples didn't fall too far from the Automatic tree, whilst also throwing some moodier, more studied mid-paced light and shade into the set. However a brilliant "Sleepwalking", my set highlight, and closer "Steve McQueen" saw them roaring back with a vengeance, as we rocked furiously down the front to another marvellous set from one of the mere handful of bands I've seen who are truly deserving of the prefix, "The Mighty.."!

Nice blokes too, as we hung around briefly afterwards for set-list signings, chats and compliments, along with apologies that the place was so empty. Back home for 11.30 with ears ringing from the rock. Swindon, you really don't know what you've just missed!

778 NME AWARDS TOUR featuring The Maccabees, Bombay Bicycle Club, THE BIG PINK, THE DRUMS, Bristol O2 Academy, Sunday 14 February 2010

2011-02-06T10:08:00.001Z

It's back on the NME tour for us; once again the venerable old music rag actually pieced together a couple of intriguing bands as part of their annual new band showcase tour, so I sorted tix for Rach and myself. The interesting thing about this line-up is that, for us at least, it was back to front, with the 2 opening bands the ones we wanted to see! Needed an early departure then, but could be an early night...

We set off at 6.15, parking suspiciously easily in the usual multi-storey at 7.15 and getting in just as much-championed Florida band The Drums were due to take the stage. I'd picked up their mini-album CD earlier this year, finding it a real throwback to the innocent, optimistic jangle-pop of C86, with perky harmonies and melodies aplenty, and expected a polite set of innocent twee-ness which I'd either tap a toe to, or be so irritated by I'd want to slap them with a wet fish. Luckily my expectations weren't met, as their June Brides-like songs took on a real punch live, and the vocalist displayed a strong, strident voice hitherto only hinted at, which recalled such as The Wild Swans' Paul Simpson! Praise indeed. New single "Best Friend" was a highlight, although this was topped by the subsequent "Make You Mine" (Rachel's favourite), and the inevitable "Let's Go Surfing" got the first sing-along moshpit going. A splendid start from a highly promising new band.

Quality was maintained by next band, The Big Pink, although in a totally different vein. Their "A Brief History Of Love" CD made a real impression on me last year, with its' melange of shimmering soundscapes and ethereal melody, backed with pumped-up big beats and dance tracks, proving an intoxicating blend, recalling an updated Pale Saints or Curve, and with "At War With The Sun", featuring a bona fide top top track. The live set up featured a huge mixing desk, in front of all the hot-pink coloured monitors, and when they took the stage it was unexpectedly as a 4-piece, with the 2 main guys backed up by a bassist of indeterminate gender, and a female drummer wearing a skimpy black bra and the merest of leather hot-pants. Nevertheless, they set to it with gusto, playing a glorious cacophonous mess of melody and noise. Opener "Too Young To Love", clunky on CD, was groovy and jet-propelled, and the subsequent "At War With The Sun" brilliantly swooping and shimmering. A strident and powerful set finished with the sing-along of "Dominoes", the climax of which saw the scantily clad drummer jumping on the bass drum and throwing roses to the crowd.

I totally failed to get a set-list for either of the above bands, the object lesson being never trust a roadie in a Yankees cap. Bah! At this point we decamped to the back bar for drinks and debate (if our daughter became a drummer and dressed like that, would we be proud or scandalised?), then popped back in for The Bombay Bicycle Club. Unfortunately they didn't impress, with some indistinct New Wave style pop, like a forgettable Franz Ferdinand. Headliners The Maccabees were better, with some more memorable sing-along stuff which went down a storm with the very young sell-out crowd, however their blend of horn-blasted perkiness and slight ska flavour reminded me of an updated and punked-up Madness, no less, so after 4 or 5 numbers we left, secure in having already seen 2 very different yet equally promising bands on show!

777 TIN SPIRITS, Swindon Furnace, Friday 29 January 2010

2011-02-06T10:05:00.002Z

Normally the prospect of a band playing "Prog Rock Covers", given that I'm a firm believer that Prog is the type of self-indulgent wibbling nonsense that we fought the punk wars to eradicate, would be one to send me scuttling for cover! However when said band, Swindon's Tin Spirits, includes XTC's virtuoso axe-man Dave Gregory in its' line-up, there's one major reason to go along. The fact that there was an XTC covers band, Fossil Fuels, supporting, gave added impetus to my getting a ticket!

I checked my last Furnace gig for running times and duly arrived at 8.30 expecting to see the support coming on. However, the band taking the stage, when I walked down the familiar staircase into the old "Lev", were the headliners - Fossil Fuels had been on between 7.15 and 8, just as I was helping to put the kids to bed! D'oh!

Nevertheless, this was what I was here for, and Tin Spirits didn't disappoint with a set that was never less than intriguing and admirable, but often rather splendid, depending on whether they were playing Prog Rock covers or XTC songs! As I mentioned, I really don't like the Prog, and having done my website checks I kind of expected this to be a gig of 2 halves for me - great when they played XTC numbers, boring when they delved into the Genesis and Zappa stuff. However, boring it wasn't - despite my lack of familiarity and enthusiasm for said Prog material, I enjoyed it more than I'd anticipated, finding lots of things to admire in the virtuoso renditions of early Led Zep and King Crimson material, rather than in the material itself. Kind of like admiring a painting really; this was music as a piece of art, played reverentially by excellent guitarists Dave Gregory (of course) and Dan Steinhardt.

However, music for me has really been about invoking an emotional response (a point I discussed with my old buddy Doug McGuire), and for that I looked no further than the XTC material tonight. An early "Mayor Of Simpleton" was joyful, sing-along pure pop, but the double whammy of the jerky, jagged "Scissor Man" and subsequent tantalising medley (riffs from "Generals And Majors" and other stuff thrown in here!), followed by a stomping "No Thugs In Our House" topped that for simple smile-inducing pop. Back to the prog after that, although a heart-cracking rendering of Jeff Buckley's "Dream Brother" with vocal gymnastics nearly worthy of the great man himself, from singer Mark Kilminster, was splendid too. A 2 hour set was climaxed with a sinewy reading of "No Language In Our Lungs" and a wonderfully languid "Towers Of London", capping a set worthy to kick off my 2010 gigs from a band who've come along very nicely thank you since my first viewing at the Vic 18 or so months ago.

Hung out afterwards awhile, chatting briefly to the band and also to Martine, Dan's wife who'd been a fellow student on the Creative Writing course which was of course the impetus for this blog. Small world - but I wouldn't want to paint it!

776 ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN, A Silent Film, Oxford Academy, Saturday 12 December 2009

2011-02-06T10:03:00.001Z

Back with the Bunnymen to the scene of their last triumph, about 3 ½ years ago upstairs in this venue, and amazingly back again to see the Bunnymen in Oxford in December, a mere 28 years after my first such sighting! Yes, it was December 1981, gig 2, that I first saw the band who were to become my first real musical loves, staccato dancing their way through an epic "Heaven Up Here"–based set in Oxford’s New Theatre. Although we’re not expecting Mac to hurl himself about with such gay abandon these days, this should still be a cracker I thought as I set off down to Oxford on a dark and crisp Saturday evening.

Parked up in the last Tesco car park space dead on 8, getting into the venue just as support A Silent Film were finishing their set. A shame I missed them really, as the denouement sounded epic and swelling, a perfect fit for tonight really… So I mooched about and admired the retro Bunny t-shirts on offer at the merch stand, eventually squirming my way near the front, about half a dozen rows back, stage left, for the witching hour at 9.

The first thing to note was the relative lack of dry ice; normally Bunny gigs are choking affairs, the band indiscernible through the fog, like riders on the storm (ha!). Not this time. The second – and most surprising - was that dead on 9, the allotted time, the lights plunged, the Gregorian monk chanting started up and the Bunnymen took the stage…on time! Will wonders never cease, I thought…

The same double salvo of "Going Up" and "Show Of Strength", the opening tracks from their first 2 albums, started proceedings, as they did previously. However, this time there was life and power to the set immediately; none of the restraint of last time out, as "Strength"s doomy bass shook the rafters and Mac’s baritone read the lyric like a proclamation from on high. A chiming, sing-along "Rescue" followed, the song deviating into "Broke My Neck" before returning for an epic climax. However "Villier’s Terrace" topped even that, a brilliantly powerful version, the off-kilter keyboard riff ringing out like liberty bells, loud and resonant, before the segue once again into the Doors’ "Roadhouse Blues". Marvellous.

The set flew by; a couple of numbers from new CD "The Fountain", the most satisfying album since their mid-90s reformation, sounding at home in the company of "Seven Seas" and a chiming "Silver", so ably embellished by the intricate riffery of Will Sergeant. Indeed, Sergeant, the architect of the Bunnymen sound, was the star for me tonight, his masterful fretwork sending strafes of sound whirling around the venue and the enthusiastic (in Oxford! Will wonders never cease, I thought again!) crowd. Mac himself was also in good form, joking with the crowd about Tolkien ("he’s a tosser!") and Peter Kay ("the tight git served my mate a Fray Bentos pie") amongst others, and saying, "that was my impression of Liverpool football club," when he took a swing at his wine cork and missed. His performance was by no means note-perfect, but on the occasions he allowed his voice to soar (the set closer "The Cutter" being the finest example), my God, did it soar.

A hushed "Killing Moon", the first verse sung, word-perfect of course, by the audience, preceded encore "Nothing Lasts Forever", Mac referring to this stately ballad as "one of the best songs ever made". A messy but enjoyable "Lips Like Sugar" medley ended another massive night from Echo And The Bunnymen. My first musical loves, and my word I love them still!

775 MOTORHEAD, THE DAMNED, Girlschool, Swindon Oasis, Sunday 15 November 2009

2011-02-06T10:02:00.002Z

I was amazed when Rich texted me about this one earlier in the year. How often does a bona fide rock legend come to Swindon? Fuck Morrissey, Lemmy Kilminster of seminal heavy rockers Motorhead falls squarely into that category, having seen it all and done it all, all no doubt at ear-splittingly extreme volume. With a bacchanalian appetite for, erm, recreational pharmaceuticals which would make even the likes of Keith Richards blanch, it's a wonder the man's even still standing, yet at 63 years old, he's still rocking, so despite my lack of familiarity with Motorhead's output (I've only got their "Essential Noize" best of CD), we had to book tix for this one. And an anticipated noise-fest was subsequently made more attractive by the addition of original punks the Damned as support!

So, I donned leathers and rock boots, and met up with Rich in the Oasis foyer, getting a drink before going in to check out first support Girlschool. A late 70's all girl heavy rock band, they'd seemingly all turned into soccer moms playing leather and lace dress-up, and their music hadn't aged well, apart from their final number "Emergency", which saw the guitarist throwing Phil Lynott shapes and strafing the audience with her guitar neck.

Moved further forward for the Damned's entrance, running into an old punk friend in the process - Paul Kent, Mr. Damned himself, whom I'd not seen for decades! Amazingly, he recognised me too, recalling I was way shorter in my early teen punk years!

Then, the original cartoon punk rocker himself wandered onstage, clad in red beret and goony sunglasses and said, "Hi, I'm Captain Sensible, you may have seen me on Top Of The Pops. And we just want to say..." as, on cue, Vanian strolled casually onstage and softly asked, "is she really going out with him?", the classic intro to their debut single "New Rose". The crashing drum and growling riff intro heralded a brilliantly taut version of the first ever punk single, now 33 years old but still sounding as raw and fresh as ever.

The Damned were a revelation. I felt quite ashamed that they'd slipped through my punk rock revival calendar, as they were up there with the likes of the best of Fingers, Killing Joke etc. in terms of their not having allowed time to take its' toll on their performance or the music. And Vanian looked great - apparently 53 years old, he looked 20 years younger, having shed the fat goth image he wore in the 80's in favour of a 50's rock'n'roll leader of the pack, all black leather and slicked back hair. "Welcome to the Anti-Simon Cowell tour," the Captain announced to huge cheers before a jagged, hectic "Neat Neat Neat". "You won't see Jedward jamming with us tonight!"

"History Of The World" was a real surprise, a keyboard led sweeping epic, with Vanian's stately baritone a feature, as he prowled around the stage like a panther, wielding his 50's radio announcer style mic. The gothy pop "Eloise" followed, better than I expected, and an impressive double punch closed a splendid set - the superfast crashing shambolic "Love Song", and a groovy swingalong "Smash It Up". A surprisingly great set, and definitely not the last time I see the Damned!

I grabbed a set-list, and Rich and I bumped into facebook friend Debbie the punk for an entertaining chat before the main event, the lights going off at 1/4 to 10 and Lemmy leading Motorhead onstage with the proclamation, "we're called Motorhead and we play rock'n'roll". Hell yeah!

Motorhead were relentless, cranking out one noisy metallic onslaught after another with the metronomic frequency of a medieval cannon. "This is called "Rock Out With Your Cock Out"", Lemmy announced before one number, and I realised this was a little different from my last Oasis gig (Morrissey)!

No, this was loud, fearsome, heavy riffery rock'n'roll, the Motorhead template an amalgam of the superloud riffs of heavy rock and the energy and brevity of punk, all topped with Lemmy's Tyrannosaurus-like vocal growl. A set to be endured rather than enjoyed, a real relentless trial by noise, thankfully though largely lacking in the self-indulgence endemic in so much heavy metal stuff (apart from the mind-numbingly overlong drum solo, which made us think Lemmy was offstage, "otherwise occupied" in some way!).

After an hour or so, they played a song I recognised! The dramatic, superfast "Bomber", my favourite Motorhead number, which was also the set closer, the band subsequently returning for a bluesy, acoustic (!) "Roadhouse Blues", the ubiquitous "Ace Of Spades" and a stretched "Overkill". "Remember us, we're Motorhead and we play rock'n' fucking roll", Lemmy proclaimed before he and the band took a bow. We're not likely to forget!

774 MEW, Choir Of Young Believers, London Shepherd's Bush Empire, Tuesday 10 November 2009

2011-02-06T10:01:00.002Z

One of the most disappointing gigs for years probably had its' roots back in 2006. It was then we learned that following extensive touring, Johan, the Hugh Jackman lookalike, Pixies fan and bringer of the low-slung rock hard edge to Mew's wistful, atmospheric mood music, had decided to leave the band. How would this affect the Mew-sic, we wondered? Finally, the answer came in "No More Stories" this year, easily Mew's weakest LP, a clutch of insubstantial flyaway songs, bereft of anchor or anger, sounding upbeat and poppy but really lacking in substance. Did we buy an A-Ha album in error?

Nevertheless, we still bought tix for their subsequent tour - if the new stuff wasn't much cop in comparison, at least we could look forward to the usual plangent brilliance of the songs from "Frengers", Mew's 2003 defining masterpiece, still one of the top 5 albums of this decade, and possessing in "Am I Wry? No" easily the best single of the noughties. Live, after all, for me, this was the band who in 2003 looked down on the Gravel Pit in the "best live band" stakes!

So, despite a last minute panic (Rachel feeling very tired and not really up for a London show) we hit the road just after 6, leaving the kids with Grandma and parking up after a surprisingly smooth run in our usual Shepherd's Bush spot about 1/4 to 8. Got into the venue and nursed cokes near the back as support Choir Of Young Believers came on, peddling a dusty alt-country mood music, occasionally like Band Of Horses only less hooky and with fewer tunes. Rach liked them but I think they matched her tired mood.

We took a wander onto the packed floor for this sold-out show, craning our necks for a Mew view. What I saw instantly worried me - there appeared not to be a drumkit onstage. Uh-oh... Mew came on just after 9, opening with a couple of slow-burn, atmospheric new numbers which drifted by on the breeze wafting the vast swathes of choking dry ice into this nevertheless enthusiastic crowd. Then the funky choppy bass strafes of "Special" erupted and we were away...

Or so we thought! In retrospect, "Special" stacked up pretty well to this particular "live" treatment, drum machine loops to the fore, being uber-beaty and funky anyway. However a subsequent "Zookeepers Boy", one of the 2 high watermarks in their canon, normally a stunning marriage of majestic harmony and melody, was handled roughly and sounded like it was smothered with heavy blankets. Therein lay the problem - Mew's best material is so precise, so full of beauty and melodic clarity, that it doesn't respond well to roughhousing in the way, say, American Hi-Fi's stuff would. And the tape loops and drum machine beats really worked it over badly, smothering the sound as the dry ice smothered the usual half-remembered dreamscape backdrop films.

"Am I Wry? No" escaped relatively unscathed apart from the middle eight, "156" and "Apocalypso" sounded more muffled, then after a short and puzzling interval at 45 minutes, they returned to concentrate on the "No More Stories" material which, once again, failed to impress or stick in any way. A set-closing "Snow Brigade" was however murdered, unrecognisable from the thing of soaring beauty it normally is. "I could cry," said Rach, and I felt the same.

Encore "Comforting Sounds", its' quiet plaintive opening leading to a symphony of wonder, was the only song even approaching what Mew are normally capable of, but we left at the end, mystified and immensely disappointed. One of the best bands of this decade well and truly imploded in front of us - I hope to God that this is a temporary aberration. Either that, or the "Bring Back Johan And A Drumkit" Mew-vement begins here!

773 GREEN DAY, Birmingham NEC, Wednesday 28 October 2009

2011-02-06T10:01:00.001Z

Finally, Rachel and I get back to doing what we do best together - going to gigs! This, our first joint one since Kasey was born nevertheless nearly didn't happen as I got a hit of the recent family stomach virus about 3 pm, and needed to lie down for an hour or so before we set off!

But go we did - this was the one Rach had been saving herself for, so I wasn't going to wuss out, so we set off at 5.45, hitting horrible traffic and needing an emergency stop, but still parking up at 7.45. Indeed, the final NEC approach was remarkably painless - it seemed everyone heeded the ticket providers' useful e-mail advice that Green Day were due on at 8, and got there early!

Park'n'rode to the venue - now the LG Arena - from our outlying car park and took our standing spot, about halfway back, in good time for the arrival of... that damned drunken bunny again! Staggering on and chugging beer down to the general delight of the crowd, the pink bunny made a rabble rousing reappearance from the "American Idiot" tour, this time dancing to "YMCA" and the Ramones' "Rock'n'Roll Radio" before the lights plunged at 8.15, heralding the quiet intro "Song Of The Century", which announced the arrival of Green Day to a noisy reception, and into the tempo-change-tastic "21st Century Breakdown" title track.

The thick end of 5 years has passed since the step-change of "American Idiot" marked Green Day out as a band that matter once more, their cartoon ramalama punk being infused with a political commentary as biting and articulate as anyone, and a widescreen song structure sensibility far removed from the amphetamine soundbites of "Dookie" yet still retaining the Green Day identity. And the question, "how do you follow that," has been answered with "more of the same, really!" Evolution rather than revolution has been the theme of the new CD, which initially rendered it disappointing to my ears, but which, "live" made much more sense. A raucous, singalong "Know Your Enemy" followed, by which time Billie Joe was well into the full-on stadium mass communication antics, creaming, "Birming-HAMMMMM!" at every opportunity and exhorting the frantic young crowd into "hey-oh"s with annoying frequency. Stadium Rock 101 really, but actually, when it's this much fun, I can forgive that...

The antics continued; a couple of kids being hauled onstage for "human sacrifice", fireworks and pyrotechnics galore, water cannons, random yahoos being dragged up because Billie Joe liked their blue hair, some punter being dragged up to sing all of "Longview" and another crowd-surfing from the back of the 16,000 capacity auditorium, you get the picture...

But all this augmented rather than detracted from the rock, with superb renditions of "The Static Age" and "St. Jimmy" early spiky highlights, and "Boulevard Of Broken Dreams" as desolate and gut-wrenching as ever, throwing light and shade (and a lengthy pregnant pause - hooray!) into the set. And so easily did the new numbers rub shoulders with the "American Idiot" material, that it wasn't until the karaoke "Longview", 50 minutes in, that they delved beyond their last 2 CDs. And testament to the strength of that material that we really didn't notice!

Similar to the new CD, the stage show was an evolution of the "American Idiot" tour we enjoyed 3 times in 04/05. Some recycled antics and backdrops, but I liked the "Unknown Pleasures" style lines effect on some band close-ups, making Mike Dirnt in particular look like a row of manic duelling cardiographs!

2 hours in, an amphetamine crazy "American Idiot" encore capped an entertaining set, so we left as Billie Joe took the stage for the final acoustic encores, missing them but ensuring a quick exit and home by midnight. Punk rock healed me, as I felt much better after the gig!

772 MORRISSEY, Doll and the Kicks, Swindon Oasis Leisure Centre, Saturday 24 October 2009

2011-02-06T09:59:00.001Z

I've never had one like this before - a gig ending in the headline act being carted off to hospital! Still, let's start at the beginning...

I snapped up a ticket for this one, despite having lost touch a little with the Moz' work since the Smiths (who I was a fan of, albeit not a slavish one - I saw them 5 times, for example, and only once were they appreciably better than their support act), then picked up his recent clutch of "renaissance" CDs and thoroughly enjoyed them, finding them more thrillingly harder-edged than the introspective jangle-pop of his earlier solo work. So, looking forward to this, I dropped Evan off early in Chester and hared home for 7.30, out again for 8, running into loads of people I knew at this sell-out show.

Met up with Rich, Ady, Phil (who's been a Morrissey clone since I've known him - about 25 years! - and whom I just wanted to watch tonight to see how manic he'd be!) and Ingrid after checking out Doll And The Kicks, a strident Sioux-a-like fronting a band with a sound like a harder-edged Florence And The Machine.

Met Dave and Ceri in the hall, stage-centre, 2/3 back for some pre-Moz films (including a great vintage Sparks video!), then the lights went out, and Morrissey came on at 9. "Good evening, possibly," he said then started into "This Charming Man". Thicker set and with age giving his fey lilt a smokier feel, he seemed to struggle through a fairly perfunctory reading of this Smiths classic. Then... everyone went off!

I hadn't seen what happened, and after a 25 minute wait, during which rumour and counter-rumour (he collapsed! No, someone jumped onstage and knocked him over!) flew around, we found out from a roadie he'd "left the building... he's seriously ill". Talking to some bods at the front (at which time I snaffled a set-list, just to see what we would have won) confirmed he'd collapsed and was helped offstage, so everyone kind of drifted away, non-plussed yet concerned.

Subsequent news was good (an early discharge, no major health problems), so here's hoping a rescheduled gig takes place - and lasts longer!

771, EDITORS, Wintersleep, Bristol Colston Hall, Monday 19 October 2009

2011-02-06T09:57:00.001Z

A fitting start to gig book 11, with Editors, possibly the best British band around right now, playing at the Colston Hall. Rach didn't want to compromise next week's Green Day gig and surprisingly I couldn't find anyone else to go with, so tix for 1 duly sorted before they sold out, I headed off down a crisp M4 after the kids' bathtime, parking up in Trenchard at 1/4 to 8.

The first thing to note was the new Colston Hall entrance hall - it's accessible from the back, directly opposite the car park, and it leads into a posh new open rear atrium. They've whipped this up quickly as it was only 6 months since I was last here! Took a minute to get my bearings before popping in to check out Wintersleep, a US band which after an uneven start showed nice alt-country licks a la Band Of Horses, together with some discordant noise and reasonable tunes to boot. One to look out for perhaps?

Got a diet coke in the posh new bar and ran into Stefan Milsom, an old U-18 Brunel face. Had a nice chat and compared gig experiences.

Back in the hall at 10 to 9 and took a good viewing spot stage right for Editors' prompt entrance at 9. Lights out and straight on, no messing, and directly into the pulsing synth of their new CD title track, "In This Light And On This Evening". Yes, pulsing synth - Editors, one of the most promising British guitar bands for years, have made a seriously bold move with this new album, taking their trademark yet developing early 80's post-punk doomy guitar rock sonic template and suffusing it with challenging and robotic sheet metal synth. This could easily be disastrous, suffocating their material, but instead it augments it, giving it an extra dimension, particularly live, as the haunting, jagged opener attested to.

Thereafter, we were treated to a perfect, superbly paced and thoroughly professional performance from a band on top form and quickly rising to the top. Rakishly thin, angular vocalist Tom Smith is an attention grabbing frontman, both for his deep, rich baritone which gives his sometime preposterous lyrics the air of proclamations from on high, and for his urgent, twitchy staccato moves, profiled perfectly by the backlit bank of lights. The set alternated between the embryonic Joy Divisionesque material on their debut, with a breathless "Blood" an early highlight; the matured, textured sound of their superb follow up "An End Has A Start", with the title track and a strident "Racing Rats" keeping the momentum; and the new material, slower, challenging, occasionally jarring but intriguingly so, particularly "Eat Raw Meat" which could be an outtake from Simple Minds' similarly jagged synth-laden 1981 album "Empires And Dance".

I shook a leg as best I could in this sold out but oddly static crowd, which only really got going for an immense ""Smokers", the surging, cacophonous crescendo to their finest moment filling this venerable old hall, then the crowd fell silent again for a splendid yet unappreciated set closer "Bricks And Mortar". Nevertheless, we got encores, including an urgent "Munich" which got me piling down the front to dance, and new single "Papillon", swathed in a robotic synth riff oddly likening it to the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams" yet excellently haunting and savagely catchy all the same, climaxing a perfectly delivered 1 1/2 hour performance.

Out and home smoothly as well, after a top gig from a band taking bold moves yet still fulfilling their promise as a future stadium band. I'm sure of that - world domination awaits Editors!

1. KILLING JOKE, Ski Patrol, Stroud Leisure Centre, Saturday 27 June 1981

2011-02-03T21:05:00.003Z

My first ever gig saw me, a skinny young renta-punk a few days past my 16th birthday, taking the train to Stroud with a gang of punks and loafing around Stroud before the gig!

Snuck into the back of the hall as the band were soundchecking and asked passing Killing Joke vocalist Jaz what his real name was; he replied, "Jaz".

Finally got into the hall and hung around, chatting to a member of Bristol punk band Vice Squad down the front. Ski Patrol were an unexciting support, but I stayed down the front for Killing Joke and got crushed under the weight, both of frenzied moshing punk rockers, and of the mighty sinister rhythmic noise of the powerful Killing Joke set! Climbed onstage with a few others and hung on for dear life behind Jaz' keyboards.

A real visceral experience to start my gig career! Got driven back by friend Doug's dad afterwards, sweaty but elated after my first ever gig!The setlist is likely to have been something like Wardance/Follow The Leaders/Change/Exit/Requiem/Unspeakable/Fall Of Because/Primitive/Bloodsport/The Wait/Pssyche/Turn To Red/Tension, as this was the set they played in Amsterdam the following week.

2 ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN, THE WILD SWANS, Oxford New Theatre, Friday 4 December 1981

2011-02-03T20:56:00.002Z

This gig, which I went to with a school friend and his dad (!), really confirmed my changing tastes from the increasingly samey leather and studs punk rock, to a new breed of band, using the power and energy of punk but playing emotive, tuneful and meaningful rock, with Echo And The Bunnymen at the forefront of said "rockist" wave.

This, the Bunnymen's "Christmas Crescent" tour, saw us getting front centre balcony tickets for an excellent view, initially of the excellent and haunting support band The Wild Swans and their wonderful rendition of forthcoming single "Revolutionary Spirit", and then for the Bunnymen's set itself. The stage set swathed in dry ice and hanging black drapes (not the camo, I just missed that "live" Bunnymen phase despite wearing it religiously myself at this time) welcomed the Bunnymen and their vocalist Ian McCulloch, a most extraordinary dancer with a wonderful soaring voice. The setlist went thus;

"With A Hip", "Show Of Strength", "Pride", "All That Jazz", "Crocodiles", "The Disease", "All I Want", "Turquoise Days", "Zimbo", "A Promise", "Rescue", "Villiers Terrace", "Heaven Up Here", "No Dark Things", then encores, the brilliant highlight "Over The Wall" and a lengthy "Do It Clean".

Most of the above songs ended in mighty crescendos of sound and fury; the Bunnymen were a superb live experience to really confirm my new musical tastes, and kickstart my gigging days!

3 KILLING JOKE, Aztec Camera, UK Decay, Charge, London Hammersmith Palais, Tuesday 23 February 1982

2011-02-03T20:50:00.012Z

Took a trip on Rimes Coaches for my first London gig, a very eclectic bill in the huge and imposing Hammersmith Palais.

Firstly, Charge's bass player, who gloried in the name of Stu.P.Didiot (!), sported fishnet stockings and a short leather skirt, as they blasted through a ramalama leather and studs punk rock set, albeit one more tuneful than the likes of contemporaries Discharge, Anti Pasti et al. UK Decay, next up, were superb, with a very haunting, proto-gothic set of moody little tunes featuring werewolves and the like.

Aztec Camera were totally out of place in the punky audience with their inoffensive but inappropriate pop. Roddy Frame introduced a number as, "this is called "Just Like Gold", but I think I should rename it, "Just Like Gob"," as punk spit rained down on him.

Killing Joke were once again dark, sinister, edgy and mighty, mainly promoting their recent, more song based "Revelations" LP, with the speedy "Land Of Milk And Honey" a highlight.The Joke setlist was The Hum/ The Fall Of Because/ Wardance/ We Have Joy/ Empire Song/ Have A Nice Day/ Tension/ Chapter III/ Pssyche/ Chop Chop/ Exit/ Land Of Milk And Honey/ Change/ The Wait/ Unspeakable

4 BIG COUNTRY, Swindon Brunel Rooms Amphitheatre, Tuesday August 17 1982

2011-02-03T20:45:00.002Z

Managed to get in to see this gig, despite it being on an "Over 18's" Tuesday night and me being a mere 17 (going on 12!). The gig was scheduled for a few days after the release of Big Country's debut single "Harvest Home", which I, as a huge Skids fan, had snapped up immediately and loved the bagpipe-like riffery from my former Skids guitar hero Stuart Adamson.

I danced all throughout their splendid, unsupported set in the small Amphi hall, being the only person to do so! "Harvest Home" and "Angle Park" were the high-tempo highlights of their set, at the end of which I shook Stuart's hand and grabbed a quick word, thus;
"thanks for dancing to us,"
"hurry up with the album, Stuart!"

5 THE FALL, Moskow, Swindon Brunel Rooms, Friday 26 March 1982

2011-02-03T20:40:00.003Z

My first Swindon gig, and it was my then favourite band The Fall, a band whom I slavishly bought and hung on every utterance from vocalist Mark E Smith. Queued up with fellow Fall devotee Doug; first in the queue, and first in! Raced up to the venue to discover Mark E Smith sitting on the front of the main hall stage scribbling notes (lyrics, maybe?) onto a pad. We were too awestruck to talk to him, but instead just basked in the great man's presence.

Support Moskow were a derivative Goth local band, who were OK but not really my cup of tea. The Fall, however, were lumbering giants, and played a shuddering set of angular, acerbic post-punk mainly based on excellent current album "Hex Enduction Hour", particularly memorable being "Deerpark."

6 ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN, Now Is The Time To Forget The Whimpering Child, Become The Warrior, Chippenham Golddiggers, Sunday 19 December 1982

2011-02-03T20:39:00.002Z

Met up with a few friends at the gig for the first time since they left school. The support act had a cumbersome name but were otherwise unobtrusive. The Bunnymen were however powerful and awesome, with dry ice swathing around the crowd to add to their mystique. Grabbed a set-list - my first ever! - after the titanic encore "Over The Wall" capped a tremendous set (apparently "B-Funk" on the set list became "The Cutter").

7 ORANGE JUICE, The Screaming Nobodies, Friday 1 July 1983

2011-02-03T20:37:00.003Z

Went with my brother; a week after my 18th birthday, I was asked for ID to get in to this gig, whereas Paul, 2 1/4 years my junior, wasn't! The Screaming Nobodies were rubbish, so we booed them off!

Grabbed my second set-list after an excellent, jolly, funky and jangly set from the Glaswegian wonders, Orange Juice, with "Falling And Laughing" particularly memorable. Edwyn Collins, however, showered us down the front rows with spittle whilst singing...

8 X-MAL DEUTSCHLAND, Swindon Solitaire, Wednesday 6 July 1983

2011-02-03T20:37:00.001Z

A very sweaty Solitaire for this gig; sweat dripped off the ceiling! German 3-girl, one bloke Goth band X-Mal Deutschland played a raw, exciting set of dark sinister Goth rock based mainly on LP "Fetisch". "Qual" and "Incubus Succubus" were the highlights of a set which made me look as if I'd taken a shower with my clothes on! Chatted to their drummer Manuela afterwards.

9 BIG COUNTRY, One The Juggler, Oxford Apollo Theatre, Tuesday 27 September 1983

2011-02-03T20:36:00.002Z

Drove over to Oxford with the idiot friend of an idiot friend; he knocked a child over on the way out of Swindon - luckily the kid was okay - but after the gig we only took about 20 minutes to get back to Swindon from the centre of Oxford! Maniac!

After a poor support band, Big Country opened with the rocking "1,000 Stars" and played a fine set of anthemic terrace-chant rock, with excellent, bagpipe-like guitar embellishments from my former Skids guitar hero Stuart Adamson. A very impressive lightshow as well, particularly for the excellent "Porrohman", my set highlight.

10, THE FALL, The Moodists, Warwick University Arts Centre, Friday 18 November 1983

2011-02-03T20:36:00.001Z

Took the train to Coventry and stayed overnight with a friend attending Warwick University. Support band rubbish.

I was puzzled by the presence of Brix Smith onstage with The Fall; is that Mark E Smith's daughter? No, I subsequently discovered; it's his wife! The Fall previewed new material from forthcoming LP "Perverted By Language", particularly memorable being the slow, sinewy bassline-driven "Tempo House", and the in-your-face terrace chant of "Eat Y'Self Fitter". Great vibes from this laid back poet/singer/shouter Mark E Smith as usual!

11, 12 THE SMITHS, The Telephone Boxes, Warwick University Arts Centre and Reading University, Friday 2 and Thursday 22 February 1984

2011-02-03T20:34:00.003Z

Two in a row from the Smiths, a jangly new band currently on the rise, featuring a charismatic vocalist in Morrissey. Stayed up at Warwick University in Coventry with a friend for the first gig, which featured both the Smiths and support The Telephone Boxes playing with conviction and meaning, fighting to create an audience for themselves. The Smiths, with Morrissey's stage presence and masses of gladioli thrown to and from the stage, won the day - just!

Reading, a couple of weeks later, was unfortunately a more fragmented affair. Following another committed and fun set from The Telephone Boxes (vocalist Peter D'Brickley sporting a white phone box t-shirt), The Smiths plied their trade in front of a more rabid and occasionally hostile crowd. This manifested itself in some spitting, which The Smiths took exception to, curtailing their set, then returning to warn Reading, "spitting is old hat". However, halfway through the subsequent "You've Got Everything Now", they exited for good when the noxious act was repeated, guitarist Johnny Marr's parting V-sign saying it all.

A shame, as this band have a lot of potential that they only showed in Warwick...

13 SIMPLE MINDS, Silent Running, London Hammersmith Odeon, Sunday 13 May 1984

2011-02-03T20:34:00.001Z

Went on Rimes Coaches up to London for this gig! This was a rejigged date after the original date of 16 March was postponed due to Simple Minds vocalist Jim Kerr losing his voice. Silent Running were a good support with some strong anthemic tunes; Simple Minds concentrated on their recent more expansive, commercial and poppier material, rather than their more challenging, Kraftwerk-like earlier stuff, and disappointed by not doing any encores.

14 ORCHESTRAL MANOEUVRES IN THE DARK, Fiction Factory, London Hammersmith Odeon, Sunday 3 June 1984

2011-02-03T20:33:00.000Z

Went on Rimes Coaches again! Support Fiction Factory were horrible; gave them a rousing reception of boos from our rear balcony spots, and got a mention from them when we cheered as they announced their last number! OMD were promoting new LP "Junk Culture" but their set consisted of most of their upbeat and radio-friendly synth pop hits, set closer "Enola Gay" providing "a last chance to dance," according to OMD vocalist Andy McCluskey, but encore "Electricity" capping a not brilliant, but nevertheless very entertaining night out.

15 PSYCHEDELIC FURS, The Armoury Show, London Hammersmith Odeon, Friday 13 July 1984

2011-02-03T20:32:00.002Z

Took a day off and made a day of it, shopping for comics in London with mad Doug, then trying for ages to find his cousin's house in Shepherd's Bush as he'd bought the tickets!

The Armoury Show were an excellent if unexpected heroic rock support; former Skids vocalist Richard Jobson sported an unusual haircut and, as per his legend, was a great dervish dancer! As also was Psychedelic Furs vocalist Richard Butler; after a superb set of shiny, slightly sleazy Bowie-esque post punk rock based largely on current album "Mirror Moves", an awesome encore of "India" capped a splendid performance from a seriously proficient and mighty "live" band!

16 NEW ORDER, Chippenham Golddiggers, Thursday 23 August 1984

2011-02-03T20:32:00.001Z

Due to a traffic delay, the support band Blue In Heaven didn't arrive until after New Order had played - but by then most people, including ourselves, had left!

So after an interminable wait in the enthusiastic crush down the front, New Order were the first band on, about 11 pm. They played a disappointingly messy and truncated set of largely unfamiliar synth based dancey material; as a footnote, I bumped into New Order vocalist Bernard Albrecht a few months later in London and expressed my disappointment! He took it well...

17 THE SMITHS, THE WOODENTOPS, Gloucester Leisure Centre, Tuesday 25 September 1984

2011-02-02T20:55:00.002Z

Drove up in time to catch the support band, and boy was I glad we did! I'd never heard of The Woodentops before, but they were a truly wonderful, carefree and raucous support band, quite literally blowing The Smiths offstage with a performance of passion, fire and fun. Their performance made me hunt down their debut single "Plenty", and proclaim it the Best Single of 1984!

The Smiths, promoting current single "William It Was Really Nothing", played well, with Morrissey a riveting frontman as before, but really seemed a little disappointing and flat after that breathless Woodentops performance!

18, 19 ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN, Let's Active, Gloucester Leisure Centre and Oxford Apollo Theatre, Friday 28 September and Wednesday 3 October 1984

2011-02-02T20:49:00.003Z

A brilliant double-header of Echo And The Bunnymen performances, firmly establishing themselves as colossal, powerful performers of brilliant, timeless rockist pop music, and my favourite band of my late teens/ early 20's. Drove down to Gloucester to see a poor bland support slot from USA's Let's Active (as they were both nights), however The Bunnymen, playing a set based largely on new LP "Ocean Rain", made up for it with a dry-ice choked set of light and shade, and resonant, powerful rock.

The following week, I took the coach to see a vastly different set to the previous Bunnygig, and a more ragged, unhinged yet no less passionate performance from The Bunnymen, culminating in a stage invasion during encore "Crocodiles" of which I wasn't a part, but during which I managed to nick a set-list down the front stalls front crush! 2 different yet similarly great gigs from my "home team" of this era.

20 LLOYD COLE AND THE COMMOTIONS, Blow Monkeys, Bath University, Friday 12 October 1984

2011-02-02T20:44:00.003Z

Drove down in time to see support band Blow Monkeys play a crappy leather-clad set of sleazy rock, murdering Lulu's "Downtown" in the process.

The predominantly student audience were stoney-clad throughout, refusing to dance and elbowing us for wanting to do so! Bah! An obviously nervous and fidgety Lloyd Cole, staring at his shoes between songs and almost mumbling his vocals, in front of a conversely excellent, confident band with a notably superb, almost virtuoso guitarist, made for an incongruous sight! However, Lloyd's charming intelligent bedsit pop won through.

21 BIG COUNTRY, White China, London Hammersmith Odeon, Saturday 20 October 1984

2011-02-02T20:39:00.002Z

Took the train up with PG and Colin for this sold-out show, Colin selling a spare ticket to a tout for £10 - well above face value...

White China were a good, colourful and rocking support with some anthemic ringing numbers. Big Country played a huge set of friendly guitar rock, largely promoting new LP "Steeltown" and featuring a very impressive light show. I felt a little disappointed though; have they become too remote and "big time"? Having said that, it's great to see former Skids guitar hero Stuart Adamson so successful - he deserves it.

22 ORANGE JUICE, Foreign Press, Chippenham Golddiggers, Wednesday 14 November 1984

2011-02-02T20:37:00.002Z

Orange Juice's last tour, though we knew it not at the time; openers Foreign Press continued their tradition of rubbish support acts.

Got right down the front for Orange Juice; shouted incessantly for "Blue Boy" and finally got it from Edwyn and the boys! A great set of charming, slightly shambolic but catchy melodic pop, and a great sendoff for an underrated band.

23 LLOYD COLE AND THE COMMOTIONS, Blow Monkeys, London Hammersmith Palais, Thursday 13 December 1984

2011-02-02T20:32:00.003Z

Drove up in a carload, arriving too late for openers Del Amitri (in fact, we walked in just as they were leaving the stage). I was unaware at the time of the significance of that late arrival...

Blow Monkeys were again leathery and brash. Lloyd Cole led the Commotions through another fine set of their intelligent, understated pop, despite again looking very nervous indeed!

24 THE SMITHS, JAMES, Chippenham Golddiggers, Thursday 21 March 1985

2011-02-02T20:08:00.000Z

Support band James played a fascinating set of unusual pop, opening with a number which started, "an earwig crawled into my ear...". A band to investigate! As for The Smiths, they seemed a little complacent and wooden, playing a sub-par set well below their potential. Well, they were number one in the LP charts at this point with the equally disappointing "Meat Is Murder", after all...

25 TEARS FOR FEARS, The Adventures, Chippenham Golddiggers, Thursday 21 March 1985

2011-02-02T20:07:00.000Z

Took the coach down on my own! Got a culture shock during The Adventures bright, excellent poppy set; their vocalist was none other than Terry Sharpe, former vocalist of my new wave powerpop faves The Starjets! Met and chatted to Adventures backing vocalist Eileen Gribben afterwards.

Tears For Fears played a professional set of their slightly angsty yet radio-friendly 80's synth pop, opening with "Mother's Talk", which they started to play from behind the safety curtain (!), and mainly based on new "Songs From The Big Chair" LP, with lengthy encore, the sing-along "Shout" a highlight.

26 THE ALARM, The Faith Brothers, Chippenham Golddiggers, Tuesday 14 May 1985

2011-02-02T20:06:00.000Z

Got dragged along to this one by my Alarm fan brother! Got a little drunk prior to the concert so I could humour the Alarm more! Support The Faith Brothers were terrible, and the vocalist danced like he had a clothes hanger in his t-shirt. The Alarm previewed material from the forthcoming "Strength" album and insisted upon spraying us with playing cards. Not my favourite of bands, I had to concede they played a solid if unremarkable set of anthemic rock.

27 LLOYD COLE AND THE COMMOTIONS, DEL AMITRI, Brighton Top Rank, Wednesday 15 May 1985

2011-02-02T20:05:00.002Z

A 2 car convoy of 8 of us drove down to the South Coast, making a day of it and playing football on the shingle beach during the day! The unexpectedly excellent support Del Amitri left photo booklets of themselves liberally sprinkled around, and their fine strumalong set prompted me to write for inclusion on their "Hit List". The start of something...

Lloyd Cole, looking slightly more confident, played a fine crafted set, which included a truncated "Perfect Skin" due to a scuffle on the dancefloor (!), and a splendid encore version of Glen Campbell's "Wichita Lineman", showcasing Lloyd's excellent dark baritone. A long way to go for a gig, but well worth it!

28 ORCHESTRAL MANOEUVRES IN THE DARK, Alternative Radio, Chippenham Golddiggers, Wednesday 12 June 1985

2011-02-02T20:04:00.001Z

Got the train there with my brother, and my dad gave us a lift home; the one and only time from a gig! The support were forgettable, but OMD, despite promoting new, slightly darker and disappointing LP "Crush", played their usual "Greatest Hits" set of their upbeat synth pop, with set closer "Enola Gay" and encore "Electricity" real highlights, as usual.

29 U2, "The Longest Day", Milton Keynes Bowl, Saturday 22 June 1985

2011-02-02T20:02:00.002Z

My first big outdoor concert; and it rained! A dank horrible mid-Summer day greeted myself and 60-odd thousand folks as we arrived at this huge amphitheatre, parking up in the mud and failing to sell our spare ticket. Bah! Met up with my brother there - he, sensibly, went by train.

Openers THE FAITH BROTHERS were again rubbish. BILLY BRAGG however controlled the huge audience well, and performed a largely political song-based set. SPEAR OF DESTINY, next, impressed with a set of powerful rock with big choruses and big vocals from Kirk Brandon, but the real support card treat was the late afternoon appearance of THE RAMONES. The first time I'd seen da Brudders, they were just as I'd imagined, blasting through 30 songs of dumb sing-along surf punk in about an hour, all at breakneck speed! Moshed frantically down the front and got soaked in both rain and sweat.

Needed a breather after that, so went for a walk during REM's set. A band I'd later come to love fervently, they played a dull and dour set as bleak as the slate grey leaden skies overhead. The only notable number was the MTV-friendly "So. Central Rain (I'm Sorry)", from a poor set, which my brother spent hurling bottles of piss at Michael Stipe!.

U2 the headliners seized the day with gusto, starting with "11 O'Clock Tick Tock" and ripping through a brilliant and brilliantly chosen set of their euphoric, passionate rock. Right at this point, they were in a different league from the rest, for power, passion or indeed anything really! This was their moment and Bono, the supreme and sincere frontman, and the band took it perfectly, not even allowing technical problems during "Bad" to affect their performance. Brilliant stuff from a young band on the up and up.

The set was as follows; "11 O'Clock Tick Tock", "I Will Follow", "Seconds" ("a message to Margaret Thatcher, a message to Ronald Ray-Gun..."), "MLK" (dedicated to Coretta King), "The Unforgettable Fire", "Wire", "Sunday Bloody Sunday", The Electric Co.", "A Sort Of Homecoming", an appropriate "Rain" (the Beatles number, interspersed with snatches of Bob Dylan's "Hard Rain"), "Bad" (after a false start due to the synth breaking down), "October", "New Year's Day" and "Pride"

Encores were "Party Girl", a brilliant "Gloria" and finally a sing-along "40" to end the sodden yet superb day perfectly.

30 SPEAR OF DESTINY, Blue In Heaven, London Hammersmith Palais, Tuesday 25 June 1985

2011-02-01T20:02:00.000Z

Dragged along for this one by my friend, and huge SOD fan, Lynn. Following an unimpressive support, Spear played virtually the same set as their mud-caked "Longest Day" performance from the weekend. Met Mike Peters of the Alarm after the set, hanging out down the front!

31 THE WOODENTOPS, Bath Moles Club, Thursday 29 August 1985

2011-02-01T20:01:00.001Z

My first time at Bath Moles, a very small and pokey little place that we drove past a couple of times without noticing! The Woodentops, who became the first band I'd seen supporting then headlining (not counting Spear Of Destiny, last time out, as technically they "guested" on the 6-band "The Longest Day" bill), played a fast, furious and frantic set of rollercoaster rockabilly. Vocalist Rolo McGinty, whom we down the front looked down on, on the tiny stage (!) sported a "Bilko" t-shirt which made me want to hunt one down. I eventually did!