1,031 GRANDADDY, Amber Arcades, Bristol Colston Hall, Friday 31st March 2017

“I wish they [Grandaddy] would come back…”

I called this gig, way back on Bonfire Night 2010 (gig 797), when former (and future!) Grandaddy mainman Jason Lytle played a short but sparkling set of his former charges’ numbers, in support of Midlake, one of many bands to briefly and undeservedly claim the title of “the new Grandaddy”… We didn’t want a new Grandaddy, we just wanted the old one back! One of the finest and most consistent bands of the late 90’s/ early 00’s with their blend of parched yet warm alt-Country and lush, woozy psychedelia, and the only band to be my Reading Festival “Band of the Weekend” twice (also being one “New-Order-playing-Joy-Division-songs” set short of winning that honour 3 times!), they’d been much missed since their 2006 split. But now, after a short (relatively speaking for reunion bands these days) hiatus, they’re back, easing in with sporadic US gigs and Festivals, then a new album, this year’s fine and melodic if hardly groundbreaking and very typical “Grandaddy”-sounding “Last Place” and, finally, a tour!

Tix were duly snapped up on the first opportunity, so a sunny Spring evening saw Rachel and myself depart early, this time avoiding the annoying and copious Bristol roadworks by heading up the hill to the Level 5 Trenchard entrance! We parked up and hit the venue in good time to meet up with Bristol friends Kiron and Alison, and their friend Mike, for some rock chat, before popping into this large auditorium for openers Amber Arcades, on at 8 as advised by vocalist Annelotte, manning the merch stand earlier! After easing in with a slow-burn opener, they hit their stride with “Right Now”, my favourite on their sweetly low-key, pastoral and strumalong Belle And Sebastian meets Stereolab debut album “Fading Lines”. However this and the subsequent “Come With Me” were much more overt and dynamic “live”, and dare I say it, much more “rocking” than even their Nada Surf support slot last year, before they diverted back into more pastoral territory again, “This Time” featuring some hazy, smooth harmonies. I tried hard not to make the obvious Bettie Serveert comparisons as well (Dutch band, blonde vocalist wearing a baseball cap, quirky indie pop etc.), as the Stereolab-esque metronomic groove of “Turning Light” closed out a fine opening set.

We repaired to the back bar between sets, then the buzzer signified Grandaddy’s imminent entrance, so we headed back into the now-packed venue, unfortunately pitching up in a cramped spot ¾ back with tall blokes in front of us, chatty cathys behind, and a pile of coats on the floor which I kept tripping over. Not great viewing, but luckily there was a large screen backdrop which projected films of nature and industry (plus lots of long ol’ freight trains) throughout, to complement Grandaddy’s musical performance. As for the boys themselves; they wandered on just after 9, again looking like 5 Amish farmhands who’ve taken a wrong turning, and eased into the chugging, melancholy “Hewlett’s Daughter”, the mix clear and precise albeit for Jason’s high-pitched, Neil Young vocals, which were a little echoey. “Hi – OK, now I got the talking out of the way!” quipped Lytle before the languid ballad “Yeah Is What We Had”, and to be fair, apart from fulsomely praising short-notice stand-in guitarist Shaun, thereafter he let the music did the talking!

My 7^th time overall “live” experience of these Modesto natives, yet the first since Reading Festival 2003 (13½ years ago!); damn, that’s awhile! The warm and fuzzy “Laughing Stock”, featuring raindrop-like keyboard patterns, was a lovely early highlight, like a hazy, half remembered dream, underpinning a lushly melodic yet low-key set start. However “The Crystal Lake” finally showed some of the power of old, the haunting, plaintive riff building to a strident, dramatic and powerful denouement, , the wolf bearing its’ teeth at last, allaying my fears that this set might be lazily sliding into a “Grandaddy by numbers” performance. The abrasive keyboard riff of newie “Evermore” recalled an eerie 60’s spy film soundtrack; then the unmistakable riff of “AM180” preceded a potent, tough rendition and the set highlight thus far. Great, but ultimately topped by set closer “Now It’s On”, groovy and dynamic, a thing of wonder and plangent beauty.

I tired of stepping on the coat pile, and took a solo push forward for the encore, rather infuriatingly finding plenty of space to at least swing a small rodent about 3 rows from the front, stage left. Bah! If only I’d known… Jason announced, “one new song and one old song,” for the encore, and “The Boat Is In The Barn” preceded a snappy, punkish blast through “Summer Here Kids”, to finish a variable yet overall thoroughly enjoyable set, an entirely valid and worthwhile return for these old favourites.

A surreal moment afterwards; I grabbed the list and a fellow punter asked for a photo of it, he couldn’t get a decent pic so I said, “no worries, I’ll put it on my blog,” to which he replied, “hang on, are you Dave Rose?” Turns out he – Andrew – and I crop up at the same gigs occasionally so he checks out my blog afterwards. So hi Andrew, hope you enjoyed this one, and see you down the front, dude! Farewells and a quick chat with Annelotte, again on the merch stand, then we navigated our way around the worst of the Bristol roadworks for a return before midnight. So overall, it still felt as though Grandaddy were/ are easing themselves back in, but no matter – I wished they’d come back, and I’m glad they have!

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

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…

474 GRANDADDY, Lowgold, Elbow, London Shepherd's Bush Empire, Thursday 30 November 2000

Took the coach up for this one! Given recent road experiences I was concerned that waiting for a lift from Ady might mean missing support Lowgold, so Rachel and I took an early afternoon coach up the Smoke, leaving time for shopping in Camden and food before hitting the venue at 7.30. Elbow were playing some plodding miserablist nonsense early doors; look guys, it's been done before by RadioMuseTravisPlay72 and it's not haunting, ethereal or anything like that, it's just dull. And as for the vocalist; well, if you're a 6 foot 3, 18 stone Manc, why on earth are you trying to sing like Aled Jones? One Thom Yorke and his miserable current work is enough, f'rchrissakes - sing with your own voice!

Luckily we had Lowgold next up to show Elbow how to be new and original, and still moody. Influences less obvious here - the wide open lazy melody of Teenage Fanclub, Kent's haunting wistfulness, even some Buffalo Tom edginess, but toned down to an undercurrent - but overall, Lowgold were, well, Lowgold. Finally, another young British band with good tunes, heart, vision and potential. Seafood were beginning to get lonely! Suffice to say, I liked this lot a great deal, getting a set-list and thumbs-up from the bassist in the process. Worth the coach trip - which proved unnecessary, as Ady showed up before their set started anyway!

Well, onto Grandaddy. We had a good, stage right, view throughout, as the lights dimmed at 9.15, the appointed hour, the sold out crowd cheered, the intro music started... and on strode 5 guys dressed in animal suits! A chimp, a bear, a lion, a tiger, and some sort of wolf thingy, who took up instruments... then promptly took them off as the band themselves came onstage! Bizarre start! Grandaddy then eased themselves into their set with "Levitz" before "Chartsengrafs", a chunky chuntering slice of feelgood noise, kicked things into gear. "This is the biggest place we've ever played in!" stammered a slightly incredulous vocalist Jason Lytle, and you got the impression somewhere smaller might've honestly been more comfortable for him. That said, the 'Dad didn't let the occasion - or the presence of one or more of the "animals" strolling nonchalantly and intermittently across the stage - overwhelm them, and they played a fine set of their slightly frazzled, bouncy yet countrified, exciting yet slow-burning and ethereal, US pop. The drawn-out anguish of "He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot" contrasted with the jumpy melody of "AM 180", the plangent magnificence of "The Crystal Lake" and the almost punky rush through "Summer Here Kids". Yet all 4 corners of Grandaddy made a goofy kind of sense, and contributed to a bubbling and splendid whole.

Off on the hour, then they returned for 2 songs, neither of which was new CD highlight "Broken Household Appliance National Forest", which disappointed somewhat. Nevertheless, I grabbed a set-list very easily, after a fine show from a band finally receiving some deserved plaudits and success. Long may they shamble! And well done to Ady as well, as his pedal-to-the-metal drive home got us back to Swindon at a shade past midnight!

482 GRANDADDY, Bristol University Anson Rooms, Friday 2 February 2001

The current traffic craziness is getting worse, as 2 lots of roadworks on the M4 and a totally ludicrous parking space search around the top of Park Street conspired to make us very late for this sell-out gig, as we walked into the Anson Rooms just as support Lowgold were finishing their set. Bugger! So, we headed straight for the scrum at the bar instead, and tried to chill and chat amongst all the brand new Grandaddy student massive, before decamping into the main hall at the first audible signs of life from the stage.

Grandaddy are certainly striking while the iron is hot, following up their biggest gig to date (Shepherd's Bush Empire, gig 474) with a trawl around some good sized provincial venues, accompanied with a re-release of their stunningly delicious "The Crystal Lake" single from last year. It seemed odd in a way then, that this set was eerie and low-key, and took awhile to settle in to. No animals nonchalantly patrolling the stage either, although the green-lit stage set, resplendent with leaves and branches decorating the monitors, banks of keyboards and instruments, was cute and evocative. Nevertheless, despite the desolate and haunting "Miner At The Dial A View" early on, it took until a superb "Crystal Lake" to really shunt things along from eerie introspectiveness to glittering woodlands psychedelia. A subsequent, almost raucous "AM180" and a Ramones-like punkish blast through "Summer Here Kids", really got the crowd good and warmed up, but tonight's true highlight was the set finale "He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot", which had previously struck me as somewhat cumbersome, but tonight soared in it's stark and beautiful simplicity. Saving the best until last tonight, and no mistake!

An encore run through "Non Phenomenal Lineage" and "So You'll Aim Toward The Sky" bookended this ultimately utterly splendid and totally worthwhile Grandaddy performance, which was rapturously received. Grandaddy, stumbling upwards and onwards!

And, of course, the drive home was quick and delay-free, which made missing Lowgold all the more galling. Bugger! Again!

593 GRANDADDY, Easimart, Bristol University Anson Rooms, Wednesday 11 June 2003

Three days after releasing their most conventional sounding CD yet in "Sumday", Grandaddy hit the road. And despite competition from the England game on TV, we were there! Pretty deserted when we got there, though, after the usual parking-mare at this horribly positioned venue, so we thought the footy had won! Got a drink and popped in for support Easimart. Obviously Grandaddy buddies, they were quite schizophrenic, with short, half-finished punky numbers interspersed with more contemplative, introverted driftwood. A spiky cover of Wire's "Strange" was however the highlight of a forgettable set.

Grandaddy were due on at 9 so we got more drinks and took up an uncrowded position stage left, for their fashionably late entrance at 9.10. Easing into their set with "For The Dishwasher" and a very well-received "Hewlett's Daughter", they were immediately in good form and proceeded to play a superb set, culled variously from their wide canon of work. Grandaddy's music is very warm and human; soft psychedelic organ-led interludes merge with more hard-rocking material, but it's all optimistic and upbeat. The pregnant pause of "AM180", which the moshpit wrongly anticipated, brought a smile, as did Jason Lytle's self-effacing attitude and claims that we, the audience, were "Awesome". "The Group That Couldn't Say", my favourite from their new CD, was an early highlight, with its' gentle pastoral narrative, but a powerful rendition of new single "Now It's On" was definitely the highlight of this delightful set.

Conventional and less experimental their new CD may be, but "live" it was superb, and installed Grandaddy as a pre-Reading Festival tip for top band. Great stuff, and home for 10 past 11 as well!