957 THE SHUDDERS, WHITE LILAC, Purton “Festival On The Farm”, Purton, near Swindon, Saturday 1st August 2015

Following last Saturday’s splendid, delicate yet powerful performance by the very promising White Lilac at the Locomotive, I’m now pretty much up for taking any and every opportunity to see this young local band taking the tentative steps on their journey to hopefully breaking out of the Swindon musical “ghetto” and gaining the wider exposure that their intriguing music undoubtedly deserves. So when their facebook feed posted that they’d be playing a local Farm Festival, this seemed a nice possibility for a family day out. This was underlined further by the presence of Tim’s band The Shudders on the bill; The Shudders had been inactive for a while of late but apparently delivered a storming set to close The Swindon Shuffle a couple of weeks back, so let’s see what form they’re in as well!

There was a party clash for Kasey, however, so it was just Logan and myself braving the unknown today. Rach drove us out to deepest darkest Purton, dropping us off at the compact Festival site about 11.30. A few hundred yards long and about 50 yards across; this really was compact and bijou! There were very few revellers early doors so we amused ourselves by going for a wander off-site, with Logan chasing chickens, making friends with a couple of Shetland ponies in the adjoining field and visiting the Farm Shop for pastries to augment our hastily grabbed picnic fixings!

It was still sparsely occupied when White Lilac rocked up to set up for their 1 p.m. set in the oversized gazebo that constituted the main stage. I’d joked with Rach on the way over that it might just be me, Logan and a hundred or so punters in a field; in fact considerably less than that greeted the Lilac’s opener, the baroque, gothic “Girl Who Stole The Eiffel Tower”, which marched onwards on its deathly tango way. By now Tim had joined myself, Logan and White Lilac vocalist Faye’s parents Mike and Stella in our watching brief, and Tim and I debated the poor sound following their Lush-like second number “Change Of Face”. I’d mused whether the lack of a bass anchor to the song had detracted from, or actually augmented the breezy, flyaway nature of that number, before realising I was talking to a bass player and therefore wasn’t likely to get an objective view! However we both agreed that the sound was tinny and trebly, with cellist Emma’s instrument particularly submerged in the mix, which was a bit of a shame but not entirely surprising given we were in the middle of a field.

White Lilac gamely soldiered on, however, and “Night Visions”, with its’ grand widescreen change of pace from slow and sombre to, erm, poundingly fast and sombre (!), was a highlight, and “Furs” was the best sounding number of the set, Emma’s bass giving it a fuller sound for its glam stomp and post-punk, almost Bunnymen-esque shimmering soundscape interludes. “He’s Not Himself” was, rather tellingly, the only number Faye introduced with a lengthy explanation, and ethereal closer “Swallow” recalled some of Belly’s earlier, less poppy moments, Faye’s pure vocal delivery underlining this, before the song built to a wall of sound crescendo.

Another fine set in difficult circumstances, we all agreed afterwards. I enjoyed a nice chat with guitarist Curtis while Tim left to help The Shudders set up, then we had to endure a slight delay for their set while the adjoining portaloos were pumped out! Aah, the joys of small Festival life…! The Shudders finally got under way 20 minutes late with the plaintive, Posies-like powerpop of “Sorry”, Tim and Liam’s vocal harmonies backing up Danny’s quieter, more delicate lead vocal line. A singalong “Words Of A Fool” was next up, this oldie sounding simpler yet still fresh, 6 (!) years on from that first album release!

More conventional in both sound and line-up to the openers, The Shudders consequently struggled less with the sound, although some numbers still sounded a little thin. Plus, it seemed every time they tackled a slower, more alt-Country sounding number from their canon, the toilet pump would fire up again! Bah! Nevertheless, the Laurel Canyon 60’s ballad “Sunrise” was preceded by some promises about a new album (Liam joking, “I think we said that here last year!”), an upbeat newie “Rooster”, with an elongated 70’s rock workout outro, was played out of sequence (Danny remarked “I’m just confusing everybody by not playing what’s on [the set-list]”, to which Liam retorted, “it’s a shopping list really!”), then before the effervescent Replacements-like garage riffery of “Thought I Saw You”, Liam knocked his mic stand over, nearly hitting Logan, who was sat at the front of the stage!

The fun, terrace chant Irish jig of oldie “Lost And Broke” concluded a set which proved The Shudders are in fine fettle and good fooling, hopefully in good time for that promised new album release. Logan grabbed the set-list and got it signed as well. Good work boys!

Chatted with the lads afterwards while Logan, who’d thoroughly enjoyed both bands, availed himself of the nearby kids’ activity tent arts and crafts, and the next band, 3-piece A Way With Words, kicked off their AOR/ Fleetwood Mac sounding set. However, we’d seen what we’d come for, and Rach arrived at the appointed 4 p.m. to pick us up. A nice afternoon out in good weather, good company with both Logan and the bands, and 2 splendid performances from The Shudders and White Lilac, despite the iffy sound. A nice Festival taster for Logan – hopefully the first of many!

956 WHITE LILAC, Andy Oliveri, Swindon The Locomotive, Saturday 25th July 2015

Summer 2015 is quite a fallow period in my gig itinerary, which given we’re so busy with other events (birthday celebrations, swimming weekends and suchlike) is actually no bad thing, really... I did actually make it up The Vic last Friday for the one bit of the Swindon Shuffle I could fit into my otherwise chock-full weekend, only to find the excellent Familiars had pulled out through illness. D’oh! However, I was always up for squeezing this one into another crowded weekend; Faye Rogers’ reinvigorated musical vision White Lilac, who impressed in a nascent 5 song “vignette” performance at The Vic in February. Five months on, I was intrigued to see how they’d evolved for this headlining show at the new Locomotive venue. Let’s see…

A splendid afternoon at Dave and Ceri’s, celebrating Dave’s 50^th birthday, saw me joining the troops early evening up the Old Town for a drink, before parting ways so I could head down the hill to this new venue at the bottom of town for about 9.30. A dodgy bar-packed area of town, full of weekend pissheads and short-skirted slappers, but a brave attempt to add another dimension to Swindon’s “live” music scene. Met up with another birthday boy Rich May and his mates, and also had a chat with “Songs Of Praise” promoter and all round local scenester good egg Dave Franklin, enjoying his “jigsaw” theory about the small but well-appointed Locomotive’s potential contribution to Swindon’s entertainment. The chat continued through acoustic opener Andy Oliveri, and we couldn’t really make out much of his stark acoustic shenanigans through the hubbub (which I have to admit we were contributing to), therein highlighting a potential flaw in putting on quieter acoustic material in a Saturday night pub part-populated with lairy baghead beer monsters. Never mind, it’s early days for this venue and hopefully the clientele will improve. You’d hope so…

Anyway, after a musical interlude of stuff selected by Rich and myself to celebrate his birthday, and organised by his mate Paul “Paj”, White Lilac took the stage at 11. Their opener suffered from appalling feedback through the monitors, requiring a pause to correct, but once under way it developed into a baroque dark torch song tango, mean and deliciously moody, almost evoking a soundtrack to a chase scene through darkened Venetian canals…. “Change Of Face”, next up, was a Lush-ious guitar-led stop-start thrill-ride, before their epic “Night Visions”, next up, which again came in like a lamb, quiet and demure, traversing through a sax-embellished mid-section, before the denouement roared like a lion with noisy staccato guitar riffery.

“Night Visions” almost feels like 3 songs in one, and therein lies the crux of Faye’s musical approach. I’d been asked earlier to describe White Lilac’s music in a nutshell, and on the spur of the moment could only come up with “shoegaze Chamber music”. There’s a whole melting pot of influences going on here now, from moody dark post-punk, stripped back singer-songwriter material, through shimmering shoegaze to an almost classical cello-fuelled sensibility, funnelled through a widescreen vision which attempts to reflect all influences equally, often in the same song! So “Furs” starts off as a growling behemoth, but then twinkles with delicate interludes before the stomping riffery takes hold once again; “He’s Not Himself”, the one holdover from Faye’s rootsier solo days, is now a heart-cracking cello-led funereal march to a wild, off-kilter discordant crescendo, again reflecting the gravity of the subject matter; and “Gone In A Day” an exercise in pastoral introspection, with Faye’s delicate Harriet Sunday-like vocal floating over the proceedings like a butterfly over a lavender patch. Lovely stuff.

A couple of more upbeat numbers in the almost Garage rocky “Dog Meat” and the all-too-soon final number “Swallow”, the one number which actually recalled Throwing Muses in musical style as well as maverick spirit, closed out a delicious set, with Faye, with an ebullience at odds with the mood of her music, thanking the crowd profusely. A quick chat with the star and her proud mum (old friend and BT colleague Stella), before driving a “well-refreshed” Rich and friend Stuart home, wherein I joked that Stella must have locked Faye in a box during her childhood, judging by the bleakness of her music! I also expressed concern that the sheer breadth of range of White Lilac’s music, making them difficult if not impossible to pigeonhole, might ultimately prove a hindrance in gaining the wider recognition it deserves, and was gratified by her response that she wanted to bring in all the band’s influences and ideas and reflect them in the music, and if that was a problem, so be it. Make your music on your own terms, Faye, and damn the consequences. Good for you!

955 GAZ BROOKFIELD, Jake Martin, The August List, Swindon The Victoria, Friday 26th June 2015

Celebrate my 50th birthday with a Gaz Brookfield gig? Happy to do that! The 13th time overall for our favourite punked-up guitar-bashing former Swindonian travelling balladeer, and it’s been quite an interval, relatively speaking, between this and the last time out (September 14, gig 925), given that I’d missed his last trip to the ‘don (Valentine’s Day this year) as I was Ex Hexing! So Rach and I were happy to make the most of this one!

Picked Dean up on the way, and met Sarah and Lloyd in the Vic after somewhat of a parking-mare (lucking out on 3 parking spaces and ending up down Avenue Road, by the Town Gardens!). Dean and I popped in early doors to catch openers The August List (Dean getting in on my ticket after mistaking Sarah for Rachel and giving her his ticket; whoops!), on at 9. An Oxford 2-piece, featuring a seated sensitive singer songwriter type on guitar, and his female partner on some sort of mutant squeezebox, they plied some dusty, sparse alt-country which initially (and favourably) recalled the quirky backwoods murder balladry of Violent Femmes, but then drifted slightly into more conventional fayre as my attention wavered. Not too bad really, but not entirely to my tastes, so I left them to it before the end of the set, to chat with the missus in the bar!

So my return was delayed a little and I missed the start of Gaz' tour support Jake Martin's set. Sorry I did, as Martin, a scruffily-bearded and entertainingly potty mouthed young oik, was tearing it up in front of a large and vociferous crowd. Feted by Gaz himself, and no surprise really as he was a Levellers/ Frank/ Bragg bolshy mini-me, albeit with much more profanity and piles of in-your-face attitude, doing his own thing and inviting you in, but caring not a jot if you don't "get" it, he's coming through anyway...! The lengthy between-song banter and quick, self-deprecating wit was as entertaining as the music, if not more so on occasion. One memorable example arrived after he'd invited the audience to sing "arsehole" back to him during the next number, the easy terrace chant chorus of "King Without A Castle", then when one audience member did so immediately, said loudmouth was put down with an immediate response of, "you sir, have the look of a premature ejaculator!" A subsequent "I Don't Wanna Be Your Heroes" made the point that Martin's voice was nothing if not his own, the key lyric of, "we paint our own pictures" succinctly underlining this, and by his set's conclusion, he had the crowd raucously singing and clapping along, and left to an ovation after declaring Swindon, "the best crowd of the tour!"

Gaz was up in short order, by which time we’d grabbed a spot down the front, stage right, for his entrance. Flying solo tonight, he was straight on it with newie “Diabetes Blues” from his just-released “True And Fast” album (a copy of which I’d picked up earlier), a lament on his seeming inability to drink cider anymore thanks to a misbehaving pancreas (which I can empathise with!). If tonight’s selections are anything to go by, said CD is another entertaining and personal set; we had paeans to his van, and a number expressing a desire for home ownership (after which he announced he’d recently taken on a mortgage – good for you, Gaz! – and thanked us all for financing his career – “if not for you lot, I’d literally have no roof over my head!”). The prior “Godless Man” was the best of the new lot on display tonight, a barbed and opinionated musing on the afterlife, which got me onside by referencing the immortal Bill Hicks!

New numbers aside, we still were treated to plenty of familiar oldies (Gaz remarking, “I hate going to gigs where the bands have a new album and just play that – I’m not going to do that!”); “Under The Table” set the tone early doors with the whole crowd singing and swaying along, “Black Dog Day” was bilious and vicious, an impassioned reading of his best song, and a more upbeat “East Winds Blow” again saw the audience fill in the chorus hook. “Be The Bigger Man” completed the set perfectly (“this is my last number – only it’s not really my last number!” before encores of an all-inclusive “West Country Song” and “Diet Of Banality” saw Jake Martin filming Gaz from onstage, and the boys bigging up their matching Star Wars tattoos (Jake showing his off, Gaz’ one kept under wraps for modesty’s sake!). A final “Thin” (“this really is my last number ‘cos I’m fucked!”) brought another splendid Gaz performance to a close, the man once again red-faced with effort, the sweat soaking his Marvel t-shirt underlining the shift he’d put in tonight.

We set off promptly as this had taken us through to midnight; but the late one was well worth it. Gaz himself thanked the crowd fulsomely during his encore, as, “without you [the audience], I’d just be a sweaty idiot in an empty room”. Never gonna happen, chap; we’ll always be back for more entertaining evenings from a true star and born performer!

954 THE DEAD KENNEDYS, Slagerij, Bristol O2 Academy, Monday 22nd June 2015

The Dead Kennedys were probably the last great “original” punk rock band, in my view… I came across them as part of my Under-18 Brunel Amphi initiation in late 1979, hearing the distinctive drum intro to “California Uber Alles” (surely the most recognisable drum intro of any song ever!), followed by the vicious, bilious anti-US political tirade and strident, chanting chorus, and immediately “getting it”, understanding the message and meaning behind the obvious deliberately provocative “shock” factor. Picking up the magnificent “Holiday In Cambodia” on its’ release in 1980 and their subsequent first couple of albums, I admit I didn’t stay long with them, their subsequent descent into more unlistenable hardcore punk coinciding with my discovery of the slew of post-punk bands (Bunnymen, Furs et al) that defined and still shape my musical taste. Nonetheless, those first couple of releases hold a notable place in my formative musical journey, so I was up for a Dead Kennedys live show, the band having reunited some years back, albeit without frontman Jello Biafra, who long since had parted ways with his fellow Kennedys over royalties and other disputes.

I wasn’t alone; fellow old punkers Rich and Leightz, plus the younger Troy (undertaking a punk rock discovery of his own right now) joined us for a swift drive down the M4 into the setting sun. We parked up then chilled in the venue’s back bar before wandering into the sparsely attended hall for openers Slagerij, on at 8. A Swindon band in Bristol (!), their opener nicked the guitar riff from The Ruts classic “Babylon’s Burning”, but then descended into energetic but formulaic ska-punk. I dunno, that’s pretty much a genre where all proponents thereof sound exactly the same to these ears (and have done so for 20+ years, so don’t blame it on my age!), and make no impression on me whatsoever. A cover of “(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)” (which Rich called after the opening note!) was even clumsier than the original, and although the latter part of the set was punkier and thus more palatable, I still remained unstirred.

Saw a nice scene whilst heading into the loo for a pre-gig squirt – a couple of sizeable old punkers in the doorway both giving it the, “after you mate,” “no, pal, after you!” See, punk rockers have manners too! Got back to a good stage-left viewing spot, as a fuller audience welcomed the band dead on 9. Down to 2 original members, namely bookish, grey-haired bassist Klaus Fluoride, looking every day of his 66 years, and lankier guitarist East Bay Ray, crane-like features defying his own 57 years, they were straight into the pounding punk of opener “Forward To Death”, and the crowd of old punkers went mental, with a frenzied shit-kicking moshpit throughout the gig, and vocalist Ron “Skip” Greer a committed, energetic presence from the off.

Ah yes, the vocalist. There are big shoes to fill and there are BIG shoes to fill… nonetheless, “Skip” really put in a shift, his flappy-gummed, more nasal vocals (recalling, for me, Violent Femmes’ Gordan Gano) still fitting the material almost as well as Biafra’s Mickey Mouse-on-helium treatment, and his kinetic, scary-eyed conviction holding the attention. He also rejoiced in playing agent provocateur, condescendingly referring to Bristol as an “intellectual English town” and drawing boos from the crowd for sneeringly calling football “soccer” prior to “Jock-O-Rama”, before drawing the crowd back onside with some pointed tirades (“elections don’t change shit – anywhere!” and “it’s possible that there’s too many people looking at this show through the power of Instagram rather than just…looking at this show!” being two of the most memorable ones). An early “Police Truck” was brilliantly pointed and savage, “Let’s Lynch The Landlord” an almost anthemic surf-punk singalong, and “MP3 Get Off The Web” a savage skewering of social media’s self-obsession.

But it was the classics that shone; following an audience participation moment before “Nazi Punks Fuck Off” (“David Cameron…Multinational Corporations…”), the unmistakable drum intro of set closer “California Uber Alles” heralded a bilious, vicious rendering, the crowd erupting as one for the chorus line. Then encore “Holiday In Cambodia”, my highlight of the night, underlined East Bay Ray’s importance as the real architect of the Kennedy sound, his resonant reverb delay and creepy, sinister riffery making your skin crawl. Great stuff. One final, barbed and chaotic “Chemical Warfare” (featuring an ironic line or two from “Sweet Home Alabama”!) ended the swift 1 hour 10 performance, at which “Skip” scrunched up the set lists and threw them into the melee, before descending into the front rows to meet and greet. As far as I know, he’s there still… So, no Jello, but we all agreed this was still a damn fine (and early!) night’s punk rock from the Dead Kennedys!

953 THE KING IN MIRRORS, The Hi-Life Companion, Oui Legionnaires, Swindon The Victoria, Thursday 18th June 2015

Well, suddenly the June dance card isn’t as hectic as originally planned, thanks to Dave Grohl's slight slip off the stage at Stockholm. However, this one was thankfully still on – a potentially very entertaining “Songs Of Praise” evening up at the Vic, featuring headliners The King In Mirrors, the jangle pop brainchild of Rich May, my gig buddy for Field Day a couple of weeks back!

 

So I headed off up the hill on a sunny Thursday evening, picking Dean up on the way but ensuring we could get there early doors, as Cheltenham reprobates Oui Legionnaires, whom I’d thoroughly enjoyed last time out supporting Nudy Bronque, were opening proceedings. Fortunately they didn’t kick off their set until 9, in front of a disappointingly sparse crowd of their fellow bands and the generally curious. Nonetheless, this was another visually chaotic but musically controlled performance of vim and venom from this spritely young trio of spunkers. A riff-slashing opener which lasted 46 seconds (!) was the precursor of another harsh and abrasive set of off-kilter time signature rhythm, emo-tinged screaming “yelpcore” vocals and hard-rocking, squalling and menacing guitar noise. Rather like early Seafood and …Trail Of Dead partying hard with even earlier Biffy Clyro; or if you prefer, rather like having your ears syringed with tequila then chainsawed off and used as squash balls. “We like insulting crowds”, remarked the bespectacled guitarist, “if you want to see twats in peak caps, go to a hardcore show in Cheltenham!” The fantastically named “Million Dollar Shark Punch”, ironically their most orthodox structured song of the set, a Husker Du popcore fest with fine call and response vocals, was my highlight of a damn fine and uncompromising set, after which I made straight for the merch stand to buy their EP/ t-shirt bundle, following the vocalist’s pleas to purchase said fayre “so we can get home!”

 

The Hi-Life Companion, next up, were very much the calm after the storm. Lauded by Mr. May, they opened with a languid, violin-embellished opener which recalled Garageland’s hazy, lazy “Nude Star”, then proceeded to play an eminently tuneful set of occasionally 60’s influenced, occasionally thoughtful C86-tinged, jangly pop. An older collective than the openers, they had a more laid back approach to their music and intros (the second number being introduced with, “this may strike a chord with anyone who’s tried to lure international tennis players back to rural locations (!)”), and were a nice juxtaposition to the blistering chaos of Oui Legionnaires, particularly their best number “One Man Team”, and their closer, which had a 60’s Spy/ B Movie feel and featured some nice textural harmonies. All in all, very pleasant indeed…

 

So, on to the headliners in short order, as seems to be the case for these “Songs Of Praise” nights. “SoP” co-host Ed Dyer introduced The King In Mirrors, making reference to Rich’s dayglo orange Bermuda shirt, but for me it was entirely apposite, as the sunset it depicted reflected the warm, summery vibe of their music. Summery, laid-back melody, cascading rhythms and intricate riffs were the order of the day, with the opening double whammy of “At The River’s Edge” and the tumbling choral drumbeat of “Rolling In The Sun” recalling later-period Teenage Fanclub, albeit with Rich’s more nasal, atonal vocal delivery replacing the Fannies’ honey throated harmonies. Nonetheless, this was still a varied and enjoyable set, with “Your Spell” a creepier, early Cure pastiche with a darker, pseudo Goth vibe, “Catwoman” a heavily 60’s influenced car-chase theme which Dean (as a former mod!) particularly liked, and “Little Voices”, their best number, a Razorcuts-like C86/ DIY backbeat jangle-fest.

 

The set closer, “Forever” was introduced by Rich as an old Baby Train number, a band he and bassist Jase had featured in some 20 years earlier, and had a heavier, more post-punk, intrigue, after which the by-now fuller crowd enticed Rich and band on for an encore, Rich himself dragging an old friend onstage for some fun and frolics during “Good Friends”. A warm, inclusive way to end a fine set, and indeed a fine night of 3 impressive bands, “Songs Of Praise” once again proving you don’t need to travel to find challenging, entertaining, varied and thoughtful “live” music. I should really get to more of these events…! And even better, no-one fell off the stage!