1,261 EDITORS, KVB, Bristol Marble Factory, Thursday 2nd February 2023

 

I really didn’t see this one coming…

 I’d somewhat given up on Editors of late… after proclaiming them the Best Band in Britain for a chunk of years around the early 2010s, with their initial dark, gloomy goth-tinged staccato post-punk subsequently given extra dimension with increasing layers of intriguing synth noise (a similar journey to the utterly stellar first 3 or 4 Simple Minds albums), they’d then blotted their copybook with me, with 3 albums in a row which went from average to dull to pretty crap actually, loaded with swathes of suffocatingly turgid stadium pomp. I’d actually stated, after their entertaining but uneven set on the Cure Hyde Park undercard in 2018 (gig 1,095), that “in all honesty they’re sadly a couple of albums past their recorded best”, so approached last year’s “EBM” effort with understandable trepidation. However, this was a revelation – a collaborative effort with Blanck Mass (apparently a former member of drone outfit Fuck Buttons), this not only saw Editors go full-on electro, but rediscover their mojo big-time with some rampant, rollicking jet-propelled tuneage, as if they were (fairly successfully, actually!) trying to write an album full of “I Travel”’s! The phrase “Return To Form” was insufficient to do it justice, as it and Suede’s similarly unlikely contender “Autofiction” duked it out for my Album Of The Year honours, “EBM” finally prevailing by a short head. With Mr. Mass (!) now confirmed as a full-time member of Editors, I was excited to hear this material “live”, even if it meant a trip to the difficult to find, difficult to park at and bloody c-c-cold Marble Factory…

 Stuart was scheduled to join me, but unfortunately didn’t grab a ticket before it sold out! So, an early departure for a solo jaunt pitched me up half an hour before doors, parking next to a wall art of WWE star Paul Bearer (!) and queueing up in the dank drizzle. Grabbed a second-row spot house right, behind a tall and enthusiastic Czech bloke (more on him later) and next to a friendly goth/emo mum and daughter, so some rock chat passed the time until support KVB joined us at 8. A boy/girl guitar and synth duo, they were all over the place, kicking off with some drum machine propelled mumblecore shoegaze (the guy’s vocals being very down in a muffled mix; more on that later too…), but then diverting through groovier 80’s OMD-like synthpop, “Floodland”-era Sisters goth, detached, Numan/Nine Inch Nails proto-emo (“Urbanised”), and poor droney dirges (closer “Dazed”). All atmosphere, though, with no real tunes to rub together to make fire, so a bit frustrating really, as there were some nice Cure/Bunny/McGeoch-like guitar licks amongst the murk.

 Opted for a quick loo break just before the witching hour (sometimes you gotta go when you can, not when you want to), which nearly proved a major mistake, as this old warehouse room was by now utterly rammed. Anyway, I luckily made my way back before Editors took the stage to swathes of dry ice, blood red backlit spotlights and anticipatory bubbling synth… They then launched into opener “Heart Attack”, but it immediately felt as if half the sound was left on the launchpad, the growling bass and tumbling drum clatter being the prominent sounds in this “live” mix, with the synth – the major feature on record – almost a muffled afterthought, remaining disappointingly so throughout this initial clutch of primarily new numbers. The band themselves were on fine form; vocalist Tom Smith was his kinetic, angular self from the off, throwing shapes with reckless abandon and delivering his deep, sonorous vocals with gravitas and authority (notably on “Pictureseque”, his quickfire choral rap totally carrying this number), and bassist Russell Leitch (immediately in front of me onstage) was in fantasy band camp, making eye contact with the crowd and grinning knowingly, particularly at my Czech fellow punter who was going utterly mental. However, I was just frustrated that all the interesting synth squalls, bleeps and bloops were barely audible!

 

However “Sugar” was a major early highlight, the stately sweep and dramatic, Middle Eastern-tinged (“Cutter”-esque?) “whoa-oh” middle 8 break heralding a sea change in the set. The backbeat drums and circular hook of a subsequent “Bullets” and the itchy, insistent “Fingers In The Factories” were both utterly tremendous, as the set really took flight either side of a brief solo acoustic interlude from the frontman. “Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors”, their high watermark, was its’ usual widescreen build to a huge crescendo, then the hurtling pace and anthemic singalong hook of a brilliant “Racing Rats” was ultimately my set highlight. A couple of numbers from the more recent albums were fine “live” if a little overlong, but “Strange Intimacy” was an excellent finish to a sprawling, 1 hour 40 minute set, the hectic pitter patter synth pattern finally a bit louder in the mix.

 A brilliant, cascading “An End Has A Start” and the jump-along, sheet metal synth terrace chant of an extended “Papillon” bookended the encore, Tom and Co. taking a deserved bow after a committed showing, the band at least leaving it all onstage. And actually, despite the poor mix, uneven sound and occasionally variable song selection, I’d been “giving it loads” myself throughout, regularly bumping into the back of my equally energetic Czech fellow dancer. Got handed a list (Tom’s own, from the top of his piano; yay!) and bade farewell to my goth/emo friends, then ran into fellow Nada Surf fan Julian on the way out for a quick chat, before a stiff-and-sore limp back to the car, and a dank drizzly drive back to the ‘don via an annoying diversion off the M4 at J17, home just after midnight. A shame then that the new material suffered with poor sound at this less than stellar venue (bet it would’ve sounded brilliant at O2 Academy!), but I couldn’t fault the band’s effort and performance tonight. So after that, and if “EBM” is the shape of things to come, they can count themselves well and truly back on my gig radar!

 

1,095 BRITISH SUMMER TIME PRESENTS THE CURE 40TH ANNIVERSARY, Plus Supporting Undercard, London Hyde Park, Saturday 7th July 2018

The third Saturday in a row “oop the Smoke”, and this one’s the biggest of the lot; a massive all day outdoor show in London’s iconic Hyde Park, on the hottest day of the year? Woah…

Arguably, it wasn’t supposed to be like this… British Summer time (the season, not the event!) is normally unpredictable at best, mitigating against such big events on my part. But when BST (the event this time) announced this one as part of their annual programme of huge Hyde Park extravaganzas, I couldn’t resist… it wasn’t so much the chance to see post-punk goth/pop icons The Cure again after 25 years – I like them fine but can take or leave them (much more of a Bunnymen fan back in the day, when it seemed you were either one or the other) – but more so the stellar and totally apposite undercard of post-punk/ shoegaze bands, that enticed me into parting with the big ticket price, getting on the Cure fanclub presale (despite not being a member!) and locking one down before they quickly sold out. Having booked early, I was anticipating needing layers or even waterproofs to survive the day, but when it came around the country was gripped in a lengthy heatwave, so this was going to be a different proposition altogether!

The heatwave wasn’t the only thing gripping the nation; with World Cup 2018 in full swing and Gareth Southgate’s excellent young England side due to play their crucial Quarter Final game against Sweden that afternoon, clashing with a couple of the bands I’d booked specifically to see, a decision had to be made. Rock won the day over footy, though, so an early departure at 9.30 with my wingman and Cure aficionado Rich May got us to Osterley tube car park for 11, and a baking hot Hyde Park for just before midday. Sought out some shade from the unrelenting heat before joining the GA queue at 12.40 – thankfully the organisers threw us hardy early-comers a bone and opened up the gates well before the scheduled 1.30, giving us time not only to get our bearings in the large site (due to accommodate 65,000 grumpy heatstroke-affected goths today!), but, more importantly, wander down the front and get admission to the “Golden Circle” at the front of the main “Great Oak” stage! Result!

So, I divested myself of my t-shirt and slathered up, and we grabbed a respectable viewing spot midway back in the GC – I’m normally one for getting a whole chunk closer to the front, but it’s way too hot to be that close to that many other people – particularly in my shirtless and increasingly sweaty state! Still, we were in a good viewing place for openers PALE WAVES at 1.40. A promising young band I’d been meaning to check out, their set felt like an enjoyable yet indiscriminate rummage through their parents’ record collections (dad with the gothy post-punk, mum with the slightly Deacon Blue-ish soul-inflected shiny bouncy pop), also feeling like the soundtrack to some 80’s John Hughes bratpack teen romance movies, all plangent dynamics and wispy ethereal vocals. We even pinpointed one of their kick-drum-fuelled crescendos in an early “Heavenly” as the point when Molly Ringwold kisses John McCarthy at the end of the film! Nonetheless, it was fun, tuneful and I’d certainly check out their album now. A quick run out to fill my water bottle (which would be the routine for the day – regular rehydration keeping me going in this heat!) then got us back in the by-now rapidly-filling Circle for SLOWDIVE, running early at 2.40. A band I’d blanked on back in their early 90’s shoegaze heyday, finding what I’d heard wispy and insubstantial, and lacking in the pacier dynamics of fellow genre-lumpees Ride, Lush etc., I nonetheless very much enjoyed their comeback album last year so approached this set with an open mind. Early oldie “Catch The Breeze” was absorbing and stately layered dreampop and newie “Star Roving” unexpectedly and splendidly dynamic, making up for a sandwiched “Crazy For You” which I felt was a little throwaway. “Sugar For The Pill” was lovely and touching, and final number “When The Sun Hits” a growling rocker with a roaring crescendo, ending a variable but oft-times excellent vignette. They enjoyed it anyway, Rachel Goswell gushing that she could see her dad in the viewing terraces, house right, then bringing her child onstage at the end to wave at the crowd, before doubtless pissing off with the rest of the band to catch the rest of the first half of the footy!

 The mood of the increasing crowd was buoyed by England going 1-0 up shortly afterwards, so were in party spirits to welcome EDITORS, on just after 3.45 (half-time, coincidentally…!). Ten years or so ago, I’d bullishly declared Editors the Best Of British and potential headliners in any age, but since then they’ve delivered 3 albums of diminishing quality, their most recent, this year’s “Violence” a morose and plodding, and frankly dull, little beast. I was therefore hoping they’d just go full-on festival mode and concentrate on the bangers for this 45-minute set, rather than focus too much on this newer stuff. The truth is, as always, somewhere in between; blustering opener “Hallelujah (So Low)” dragged, but a subsequent “Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors” was soaring and epic as ever, albeit with the final chorus losing some of its’ oomph after the operatically building late crescendo, and an itchy, claustrophobic rhythmic post-punk double of “Blood” and “Munich” were both excellent, the angular and kinetic Tom Smith getting the crowd onside with a, “what a day… should we mention the football?” comment. “Racing Rats” was ace, anthemic and insistent, making up for an overlong couple of mid-set newies, then the robotic synth of “Papillon” was lengthy and epic, getting the crowd jumping. Shame they didn’t end it there, as final number “Magazine” was smooth stadium pomp, but an odd one to finish on. As with Slowdive, some excellent moments “live”, but in all honesty they’re sadly a couple of albums past their recorded best…

A quick departure from the Golden Circle then, and a dash to the back of the open and exposed arena to the smaller Barclaycard Stage; Scotland’s THE TWILIGHT SAD, protegees of both Editors and Robert Smith of The Cure, were well into their set, heavily-accented vocalist James Graham quipping, “this is Summer time music for you to cool down to!” as they embarked on another morose little bedsit ditty. A band totally fitting their name, “There’s A Girl In The Corner” was gloomy and doomy, initially recalling Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control”, and “And She Would Darken The Memory” was a bleak and bare exposition of lost love. Before their final number, a Frightened Rabbit cover in tribute to Scott Hutchison, so sadly lost recently, Graham announced, “it means everything that you’re standing there, so thank you so fucking much!” to a roar of approval. A fine set, well worth crossing the park for, and well-received too by the ebullient crowd, their mood being lifted further as news filtered through that England had won 2-0 and were in the World Cup Semi Final!

This brought us to just after 5, the place started to really fill up with the footy-watching latecomers and there was a lull in proceedings, for me at least… tempting though the chicken curry may have been, I decided against that because the parched arena, if anything, was getting even hotter in the relentless late afternoon sun! Sufficed with an £8 (!) burger, munching it as we wandered back towards the Great Oak stage, meeting up with Rich’s brother Colin, his lady Jane and friends to catch some of GOLDFRAPP. The one outlier on the bill for me, the blue jumpsuited Alison led her band through some smooth commercial techno glam synth, very Bowie-esque (an early number even appropriating the rhythm from “The Jean Genie”) and therefore really not all that bad, actually, albeit somewhat unmemorable and short of real hooks. However, I did recognise one number from a TV ad (!), and her final number reminded me of 70’s oldie “The Crunch” by The Rah Band!

Rich and I filled up with fluid (me water, Rich beer!) and took a walk back into the by-now very pungently sweet-smelling GC (I’d forgotten how much these big outdoor shows positively reek of cannabis at times!) for INTERPOL, on at 6.30. Fourteen years ago, following their outstanding sophomore effort “Antics”, I’d declared them an important and influential band for the new millennium, and since then they’d made every effort to prove me wrong, with a couple of subsequent albums which were so forgettable they never really touched the sides. Probably the one band I was least looking forward to on this stacked bill, then, so I shouldn’t have been surprised as they again set out to prove me wrong, delivering from the outset a dynamic and electrifying set of superbly building and dramatic doomy post-punk. Opener “Not Even Jail” was typical, ominously building to a seethingly huge crescendo with Paul Banks’ commanding baritone a feature, possibly the best sounding number of the night, and “All The Rage Back Home” was cranked up, amped up and galloping. “A great honour to play here – and on a great day too… go England!” announced Banks, currying the enthusiastic crowd’s favour before the elegiac opening to a deliciously dark “Obstacle No. 1”, then new single “The Rover” was a frenzied B movie car chase soundtrack, and might just have put Interpol back on my “Best Of” CD for this year! (Very) oldie “Roland” was an embryonic NYC punk rock blast straight out of Max’s Kansas City in the 70’s, and overall Interpol were totally smashing it, so it was a damn shame that their set overlapped slightly with my potential highlights of the day and I had to leave a couple of numbers short of the end, hearing the excellent “Evil” only as a distant echo, as I arrived back over by a silent, packed and anticipatory Barclaycard Stage.

Suddenly the silence was broken… by the bright synth pop tones and Kenneth Wolstenholme commentary intro to New Order’s “World In Motion”! As entrance music tracks go, this was a stroke of genius, capturing the mood of the day and the crowd perfectly, Mark Gardener then leading the band on, singing along to the backing track. RIDE are winning the day, I thought, and they’ve not even started playing yet! Without further ado, “Lannoy Point” kicked off, the smooth dual harmonies of Gardener and Andy Bell overlapping splendidly for an excellent rendition of their 2017 album opening track, and the angular and pulsating wah-wah of oldie “Seagull” was pounding and magnificent, the crowd going nuts as the track sped up to a noisy conclusion. “I’ve got a massive semi!” Bell quipped before asking if anyone knew the score of the other Quarter Final (being played at the time), then a libidinous, lugubrious “Leave Them All Behind” was stretched, loose-limbed and groovy as all get out. “Vapour Trail” however even topped that, this ordinarily lazy, hazy and introspective moody dreamlike shoegaze number taking serious flight, feeling like a celebration as the crowd filled in with a terrace chant of the riff, prompting Gardener to comment, “what a fucking day… incredible!” All too soon, “Drive Blind” capped my Set Of The Day with a tremendous and thunderous feedback mid-section, Gardener blowing kisses and initiating “England!” chants whilst coaxing feedback noise from his effects pedals. Superb stuff!

 The headliners had already started at this point, but I stuck around to grab a Ride list, then some eats on the wander back into the Golden Circle. By then THE CURE had already delivered a plaintive “Pictures Of You”, mainman Robert Smith’s distinctive and curiously pleading vocal style already the main feature, dominating the mix, particularly over the very quiet guitars… As I mentioned, I like The Cure fine, but they’re one of those bands (Simple Minds and Adam And The Ants being obvious others) who have a “watershed” song, before which I’m happy with any of their stuff, and after which I don’t really care much for… Said number, the funky “The Walk”, marking the point where their early, frantic, stripped and tinny new wave morphed into a mixture of bleak bedsit goth and trite toytown pop, was early in the set and actually sounded quite good, recalling those mid 80’s Level 3 days a little. “Just Like Heaven” prompted much happy twirling from the devotees, and the haunting opening to a deliciously ominous “A Forest” led to a beefy bass outro, but, those apart, the set drifted for me somewhat in the middle and I was distracted by a rather convincing Robert Smith lookalike wandering around the enclosure, being stopped by impressed random punters for selfie pics!

After a well-delivered and crowd-pleasing 1 ½ hour set replete with hits, they were off briefly at 9.45; however the subsequent 10 song (!) encore was largely great and way much more to my Cure era. “Friday I’m In Love” was sturdy, joyful and singalong, “Why Can’t I Be You” a soaring and brassy Motown stomp, then, after profuse thanks from an otherwise taciturn Smith, the stark, pleading break-up jangle of “Boys Don’t Cry” led to my set highlight, a thrillingly jagged, tense and taut “Jumping Someone Else’s Train”. Inevitable finale “Killing An Arab” sounded superb, a rampant, full-on punkish blast through their debut single, tough and growling, a great way to finish the day, and a performance which, on reflection, was about as good as I’d hoped and way better than I’d feared. “It’s been a good first 4 decades, here’s to the next ones!” deadpanned Smith as he left the stage to rapturous applause from the devoted, and we headed off to Green Park tube, finding egress remarkably easy, catching a quick tube back to Osterley and the car, at which point I finally – finally! – put my t-shirt back on!

 So, back home for 12.30, having survived the relentless heat, and having thoroughly enjoyed our day. All the bands I wanted to see delivered at least some excellent highlights, Ride for me capturing the euphoric mood of the day with a perfectly judged set to win my Band Of The Day. But overall a great day in excellent company and a great way to celebrate the 40^th Anniversary of an enduring and iconic band in The Cure. In all ways, then, this was a hot one!

963 EDITORS, The Twilight Sad, Bristol Colston Hall, Monday 12th October 2015

After a traumatic week personally, I was very grateful for the high pace of my Autumn dance card, and glad to get back to gigging ways; so could ask for no better hosts than Editors, likely the UK’s finest exponents of this many splendored thing we call rock. Barely a 2 year gap has elapsed since their last album and subsequent Reading Fest 2013 appearance and triumphant O2 Academy showing later that Autumn, but they’re back, with a new album “In Dream” hitting the racks last week, on cursory first listen harking back to the more experimental dark and claustrophobic electronics of “In This Light And On This Evening”. Possibly a bleak one in prospect, reflecting my overall current mood, but no bad thing…

 

I was joined for this by Facebook friend and fellow gig-counter Stuart, 10 years my senior but with an equally undimmed passion for rock, and his teen son Rory, who happily appears to have inherited his old man’s thirst for “live” music. The drive down to Bristol therefore fairly whipped by in a whirl of rock chat, and we parked up in Trenchard fairly unhindered, despite a serious blaze having occurred nearby during the day. Took a seat at the front of the stalls (to rest my knee, which had been playing up for a few days, and Stuart’s foot, injured by a box at home – poor old buggers!) for openers, Kilsyth reprobates The Twilight Sad, who operated in similar dark and gloomy sonic territory to tonight’s headliners, albeit with a smoother keyboard sound augmenting their own claustrophobic mood. Third number, “Prossy” was a tantalising rockist wall of sound, whilst other numbers were shoegazy, bleak and funereal, with yearning vocals from the heavily Scottish accented James Graham, who, as part of his passionate performance also abandoned the mic, Craig Finn like, to proclaim directly to the crowd. Messy in parts, absorbing in others, this was an entirely apposite support, impressing me enough to pick their CD up afterwards.

 

Ran into old Brunel face Stefan Milsom (probably for the first time since the last Editors Colson Hall show!) before I took a wander down the front, pitching up 3 rows back stage right for a superb viewing – and dancing! – spot. Editors took the stage bang on 9 to no intro, the eerie spotlight and moody, sparkling synth embellishing opener “No Harm”, vocalist Tom Smith switching between his usual sonorous, rich and resonant baritone, and an eerie, soaring falsetto. The mid-tempo “Sugar”, next up, continued the elegiac, melancholic mood, with Smith already dramatically enacting every note, whilst the band carefully and deliberately eased themselves into this, only the 3^rd set of this tour.

 

This was a varied set, highlighting the slower, moodier material on the new album whilst breaking the pace up with a sprinkling of older numbers, but at times initially felt as though it was dragging somewhat. So whilst an early double of the jerky, jagged and upbeat “Blood” and the excellent “End Has A Start” got me rocking out, the set then drifted until a brilliant, soaring “Racing Rats” dragged it back from the brink. As if to also illustrate the inconsistency of the set, newie “Salvation” was disappointingly muddied and dirge-like, but the subsequent “A Ton Of Love” was massive, triumphant and celebratory, with Smith’s vocals filling this ornate old theatre, and “Fingers In The Factories” might just have been the best number in the set, the tight staccato rhythm and riffery leading to a strident, fist-pumping chorus, breathless and brilliant.

 

“That was quite some fire tonight! I was going to play “Smokers” but my dad texted me to play “All Sparks” [instead] as nobody died!” announced Smith, bolting on a fat acoustic and ending up playing both anyway, “Smokers” in particular benefitting from this stripped-back arrangement, soaked with unexpected sadness and melancholy. A radically reworked “Nothing” was flag-waving and anthemic, a quantum improvement from the string arrangement on the last CD, and the Interpol-lite slashing monotone guitar riff of “Munich” ended an occasionally frustratingly inconsistent but ultimately worthwhile set.

 

The encore highlight of “Papillon” saw Smith, angular and pliable throughout, challenge the hitherto-static Bristol crowd with, “Bristol; are you there?” and throw kinetic shapes to the robotic synth beat, while colleague Russell Leetch (whom I’m convinced caught my eye and gave me an approving nod for throwing my own shapes earlier in the set) indulged in some low-slung New Order/ Hooky bass shenanigans, leading the song to a lengthy and cacophonous conclusion. I then grabbed a list and (eventually) a tatty and used drumstick for Rory, then met up for a similarly swift and chatty drive home, reflecting on the show. As I said, a little frustrating in parts, due to the unfamiliarity and initially dour nature of the new stuff; a lot of new material for such an early set on the tour, and no introductions throughout as well – Editors, you contrary bunch! Nonetheless, this was another overall entertaining and much-needed gig in the company of Editors, the band who, for me, still head the field for UK bands!

896 EDITORS, British Sea Power, Bristol O2 Academy, Monday 11 November 2013

To think I nearly didn’t bother with this one… Editors, one of my favourite UK bands of recent times, a consistently excellent act with an impressive body of work firmly rooted sonically in the 80’s dark, pseudo gothic (rather than Goth), brooding rockist style of my youth, but unafraid to push the envelope a bit on said sound, playing in Bristol! However, having a busy time of it in mid-November, gigwise (Frightened Rabbit in Southampton the day before, The National in London this Thursday) plus having seen an inconsistent but fine overall set from them at Reading Festival in support of their slightly more muted new album, “The Weight Of Your Love”, I was prepared to give this one a miss. That is, until they added similarly enduring live faves British Sea Power as support! Two great 80’s-influenced indie rock bands for the price of one? Oh, go on then…

Determined therefore not to miss a minute of this, I hit the road early and parked up at quarter past seven, hitting the rapidly filling and eerily purple UV-bathed venue and heading straight for the front. The usual plethora of foliage and branches covering the onstage frontline set-up greeted me, with interspersed twinkling lights giving a festive feel. British Sea Power took the stage to an eerie instrumental (no Gregorian chanting this time!), powering into the breathless tumbling drumbeat and intricate guitar line of opener “Remember Me”, building increment by increment to the descending choral hook. “Waving Flags” was up next, the female violinist’s soaring harmony lines adding to the anthemic feel, and Yan now a more confident if still idiosyncratic vocalist. They were great, with riffery and dramatic driving drumbeats evoking windswept open beaches and thunder-cracked skies. Oh, and then there was the bear…! Before the sweeping groove of “Spirit Of St. Louis” a bloke in a giant polar bear suit appeared in front of us in the photographer’s pit! Said bear then proceeded to wander into the crowd to dance, while the band, nonplussed, played on, Yan interjecting bits of “Louie Louie” and “The Clapping Song” into this elongated version. Closing track, “Carrion” was another lengthy epic, sealing a splendid set which swooped and soared like a swallow’s flight path, changing rhythm and mood effortlessly in mid-air. Forget the old Bunny comparison, they’ve moved beyond that; nowadays they just sound like British Sea Power.

A great start; hopefully the main act could maintain this quality! I kept my front, stage left spot, as Editors entered at 9 onto a dry-ice choked stage backlit by small icy blue circular lights, to a symphonic version of “The Weight” from their new album, all drama and gravitas. The libidinous bassline of haunting newie “Sugar” opened matters, with vocalist Tom Smith, already all angles, dark dramatic silhouettes and kinetic energy, grabbing the mic and singing, nay, proclaiming, in his imperious dark baritone. “Thanks for choosing to spend your Monday evening with us,” he politely announced before the unexpectedly early but brilliantly soaring wall of noise “Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors”.

Editors tonight were a band in a hurry, ripping through the set with pace and power. Editors tonight were also bloody magnificent, the new 5-piece line-up working perfectly and giving both the new numbers, often a little thin-sounding on the new record, and the more established material extra layers and dimensions. The lights burned red for “Eat Raw Meat = Blood Drool”, with even this slightly throwaway number gaining extra impetus with their performance tonight. “Would you mind if we played a song from our first album?” Smith enquired to introduce a stomping “All Sparks”, before the massively shuddering Middle-Eastern “Cutter”-like intro heralded a soaring, magnificent “A Ton Of Love”, a brilliant set highlight with a strident, powerful chorus.

“Bullets” was brilliant, darkly dramatic, and the stately and hypnotic Gothic synth pulse of “In This Light And On This Evening” built to a visceral and thrilling crescendo of cascading noise. The boys were on fire tonight, and they knew it; “Are you still with us? We’ve only just got started!” Smith announced before the staccato riff of “Munich”, the energetic Smith climbing atop his piano to deliver an impassioned vocal. The lower-key but still yearning closer “Honesty” rounded off a startlingly magnificent set, before the band returned to deliver a smoothly chugging, synth-driven “Bricks And Mortar”.  The intense robotic dance of “Papillon”, which again, as per at Reading Festival, led to a lengthy and riveting crescendo, finished off a quite brilliant 1 ½ hour performance, easily the best I’ve seen this band deliver.

Every one a winner tonight! I needed the day off after to recover and recharge before the National jaunt, but this one was well worth it. Boy, was it ever… Savages might be the most promising new English band to come along in many a moon, but to deserve the epithet of “The Best English Band”, well, they’ll need to prise that title from Editors’ vice-like grip. And on tonight’s splendid evidence, that’ll take some doing…

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

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!

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

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!

733 EDITORS, Ra Ra Riot, THE KISSAWAY TRAIL, Bristol Academy, Monday 15 October 2007

The end of the longest gig hiatus since my illness had a false start, as Rachel and I had actually driven down to the Louisiana last week to see The Kissaway Trail, only to discover on arrival that they'd postponed that date to join Editors on tour! So I was happy but Rach wasn't, as she'd previously passed this gig up, a decision she regretted doubly now! So the Kissaway Trail's presence on this bill gave me impetus to get there early doors, however a malfunctioning air pressure pump at the garage and a car-park mare on arrival meant that, despite my 6.30 set-off time, my gig buddy Ian and I arrived at 10 to 8, midway through the K-T's third number (and my favourite), "Smother+Evil=Hurt"! D'oh!

So we took a spot centre stage for the rest of their rather splendid set - contemporaries of Mew, this Danish 5-piece share Mew's grasp of shimmering, plangent melody and ephemera, but mix in more than a modicum of Mercury Rev's sense of awe, and the general sweeping euphoria of the Polyphonic Spree (very evident in new single "The La La Song", rendered wonderfully tonight). Closer "Soul Assassins" showed a bent towards stunning wall-of-noise dramatics, and made me feel pig-sick their rearranged Louisiana date clashes with the National's Anson Rooms show. Have to do something about that, methinks... However, main tour support Ra Ra Riot, a Syracuse, NY 6-piece, merged ska, 80's style synth retro and headband glam pop into, quite frankly, a tuneless mess. Damn shame they, and not the infinitely superior Kissaway Trail, were main support...

The place filled up quickly but we kept our centre stage spot for the entrance of Editors at 9.30 prompt. Media darlings from the outset of their brief career to date, Ipswich's Editors started off very much on the coat-tails of NYC's Interpol, their debut "The Back Room" featuring many of Interpol's dark, claustrophobic soundscapes and clipped guitar riffs. And yes, an obvious nod towards Joy Division... However, with excellent new album "An End Has A Start", Editors have arguably supplanted their alleged progenitors as the primary purveyors of driving, dark rock'n'roll with a distinct 80's rockist bent, taking their Interpolesque debut sound and suffusing it with shiny shimmery guitar, reminiscent of House Of Love or even Kitchens Of Distinction!

An alluring blend, and evident tonight that they know how to tread the boards in style. The opening salvo of new album title track and "Bones" were fast-paced, itchy, insistent and resonant, with the sound mixed perfectly to feature vocalist Tom Smith's delicious, deep and rich baritone, so reminiscent of Ian Curtis... This was unfortunately at the expense of some guitar, particularly early doors, which was a little frustrating. However, Smith's performance more than made up for that; a dominant, angular presence throughout, alternating between energetic leaps a la American Hi-Fi's Stacy Jones (!) and piano parts, particularly on the stunning "Weight Of The World", the best song of the set, Smith was rakishly eye-catching. Polite too, with almost perfect enunciation, rare in a rock'n'roll singer! "Racing Rats" was also a set highlight, as was closer and fan favourite "Munich", but the best was saved for the encore; their best number, "Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors" was awesome; shimmering, plangent and magnificent. Misery has rarely sounded so euphoric.

A great show - not stratospherically so as they could have been, but great nonetheless - capped by a quick meet with some of the Kissaway Trail boys afterwards. A superb double-header to resume my gigging ways from 2 bands that there's a lot more to come from!

753 REM, Editors, Guillemots, Southampton Rose Bowl, Wednesday 27 August 2008

Barely 3 years after the last REM show, here we are again! This time it's different; in 2005 REM were coming off possibly their most disappointing 2 albums of their career, and delivered a variable performance, often excellent, always worthwhile, but occasionally lacking in quality or commitment. This time they're back with a bang - the old lion finding its' teeth and roaring with a vengeance with new CD "Accelerate", arguably their best for 15 or so years, and also with something perhaps to prove, to re-establish their relevance in 2008. This could potentially translate to a very exciting show, so I was well up for it!

So I hit the road with Beef, using the Southampton University site park and ride, which seemed very well organised with waiting buses and cordoned-off roads to the venue. Hit the place - Hampshire's cricket ground - at 1/2 past 3, in time for the ticketless Beef to get sorted and to join the queue for 4 o'clock doors. Couldn't take my sarnies in, which was a pain, and the doors opened late as well. Bah.

Surprised at how small the Rose Bowl was as well! I always thought cricket grounds were way bigger than footy pitches, but this didn't seem so - low stands and the wicket cordoned off made it seem even smaller! The park and ride attendant said 17,000 tickets had been sold for tonight, and looking around this seemed plenty!

Found a spot stage right and camped up for the late-running Guillemots, on at 5.45. I'd been disappointed by their first CD, finding it cluttered and schizophrenic, but it made more sense "live". Stripped back to a 4-piece, without the horns, which unnecessarily embellished the CD, their folk-tinged songcraft shone through more brightly. Singer Fyfe, pinching himself at supporting REM, was charming, "Made Up Love Song" was pretty, and closer "San Paulo" featured some exciting clattering percussion, rounding off a surprisingly good set.

Main support Editors, on at 7, took it up a few notches and were utterly faultless. The sound was perfect for them, and they exploited this to perfection. The hour-long set, drawn equally from their good if slightly derivative debut "The Back Room" and last year's superb, defining "An End Has A Start" follow-up, was perfectly paced and a total delight. The guitar sound, disappointingly thin in parts at their recent Academy gig, was sorted from the outset, soaring and haunting, and recalling the lush atmospherics of Kitchens Of Distinction. The last CD title track was strident and powerful; "Munich" broody, angular yet still singalong, and the brilliant "Smokers" taut and atmospheric. Tom Smith, energetic and kinetic, was the focus throughout, his baritone doomy yet rich, providing the perfect embellishment for their dark, 80's rock sound. "Thanks to REM for this opportunity, this is a dream come true," said Tom at the climax of their set - on the evidence of this, they'd better get used to the big stage, as tonight they firmly established their future stadium credentials.

Dusk descended but thankfully the rain held off from leaden skies, and a seemingly enthusiastic crowd heralded the entrance of REM at 8.30. The best review I'd read of new album "Accelerate" suggested that "Michael Stipe has disappeared so far up his own arse, he's rediscovered his heart!" Certainly this album has emphatically stopped the recent rot, and by tonight's evidence has given them back their appetite for performing. As per the Cardiff show 3 years ago, they opened with a venomous "Bad Day", Stipe's disgust at the current US administration evident, then kept the pace with an incendiary "Living Well Is The Best Revenge", the startling opener from the new CD, and an angular, riff-tastic "What's The Frequency, Kenneth?". Unlike Cardiff, however, they then kept the quality high with a frankly amazing "Fall On Me", still my favourite REM song and one of at least 3 truly jaw-dropping moments tonight. By now, I'd pushed forward, following a big guy and his little Asian girlfriend, but found myself surrounded by people who didn't want to be jostled by someone dancing. Hey, you're at a gig, get used to it! "I've not been feeling too well today, so I need you to send me your heat," said Michael at this point, prompting me to say to my erstwhile dancing partner, "I think he's just given us permission to dance, Big Man!"

REM tonight delivered a perfectly chosen set, revisiting the whole of their recorded output, plucking a couple here, a couple there, rewarding the loyal and true fan. Thus when they played "Begin The Begin" from 1985's wonderful "Life's Rich Pageant", I threw shapes with abandon, and likewise jumped about deliriously to "Pretty Persuasion" from 1981's "Reckoning" (another jaw-dropper - simply the fact they'd delved that far back!), both times to total bemusement from this crowd of undeserving gig tourists. Lots of light and shade too; "Electrolite" featured Michael calling for mobile phones to be held aloft to, "turn this into Los Angeles," and a wonderfully stark and moving "Nightswimming", delivered with voice and piano only, was another jaw-dropper. Plenty of time for Michael to tub-thump about his hatred for his government, underlined by a vicious "Ignoreland" and welcomed with sympathetic cheers. Political activism, sure, but it never ventured into hectoring, like his brief plug for Oxfam during the encore. Keep it brief, don't preach, get your message across more effectively. Bono, take note.

A funky, singalong "Orange Crush" and a breathless "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" closed a 1 1/2 hour set - wow, where did that go? New single "Supernatural Superserious" kicked off the encore, then Buck strapped on the mandolin for the inevitable "Losing My Religion", which finally animated this rubbish crowd. "Imitation Of life" followed, which was surprisingly excellent and has stuck in my mind since then. "Come on, come on, no-one can see you try..."

Then the denouement. We'd done our research, so at the opening bars of "Man On The Moon" (the final song every night of the tour), I bade farewell to my dancing friends and headed off, meeting Beef at the West Exit and leaving on the final note at 10.30. A quick park and ride departure, a smooth unhurried exit and home before midnight. Once again, excellent organisation to cap an excellent gig.

At a time when American rock is sagging under the weight of pretension or blandness, we need a healthy REM. Tonight was the resurrection - back to their best, not just going through the motions as a 30 year old band, but as relevant, groundbreaking and vital as ever. Gentlemen, welcome back.