1,240 VICTORIOUS FESTIVAL 2022 (Saturday Only), Southsea Common and Seafront, Portsmouth, Saturday 27th August 2022

 

A month off gigs, then back in with a bang with a full-on Festival Day out by the sea! After the quagmire and Covid-hit debacle that was last year’s Wickham Festival, I was reluctant at best to revisit that one, and my enthusiasm for a boys Summer Fest day out there this year completely vanished when The Levellers were announced as headliners! Thankfully, this one reared its head as a potential alternative; Portsmouth’s Victorious Festival, now in its 10^th year, and well established as an August Bank Holiday alternative to the utterly dreadful line-ups that my 90’s hangout Reading Festival now churns out. I’d looked at this one before, finding previous line-ups a little too mainstream for my self-confessed obscure tastes, but a whole clutch of boy’s fave bands showed up together on the Saturday itinerary this year, led by Inhaler, one of my favourite discoveries of recent times and a band I had to miss last year due to Covid isolation (Rach took Logan and said they were amazing – bugger!). So we’re doing this one instead!

 Unfortunately, my dodgy knee well and truly let me down on a family holiday in Paris the previous week, and even on the day before the Fest (which was our travel day home) I could barely put any weight through it without experiencing shooting pain through the joint. Nonetheless, fully (heavily) strapped up and painkillered-up, Logan and I set off down a sun-drenched M4/ A34 route at 9.30, going cross country to avoid the really busy New Forest holiday traffic but still only pitching up on the outskirts of Pompey at 11.45 after a wrong turn or two. We then took ¾ hour to agonisingly pick our way through the city to our pre-booked car park, just behind the main Common Stage at the far west of this large, nearly Reading Festival-sized site. Got in and tramped around to get some water – the website said the bars would have free drinking water; they lie!!! – but we eventually got sorted. THE K’S were already onstage in front of a rapidly-filling audience, bashing out some purposeful sounding Jam-ish rawk, which culminated in a young fan being sent off crowd-surfing! An ersatz Sugababes line-up were up next as early afternoon “headliners”, but we had other plans!

 We took a slow amble to the back of the main arena and along Market Way, where the usual fest clothing stalls were located. I got used to how my knee was behaving, and Logan checked out and tried on a multitude of sunglasses (!), and we eventually pitched up at the smaller open-air Castle Stage (next to Southsea Castle, where I’d taken Evan for a day out, waay back in 2007!) midway through SWIM DEEP’s lunchtime set. I was sorry I’d missed the early knockings, as what I heard I thoroughly enjoyed; some building guitar/keyboard led dreampop atmospherics and slow burn widescreen drama, overlaid by some high-pitched vocals, initially recalling early Mew or the short-lived Temper Trap. Good stuff, culminating in “King City”, a bright, bouncy and singalong closer which got the crowd clapping along. Nice!

 

We grabbed a barrier slot, house right, and waited out the changeover; all stage changeovers were ½ hour, which seemed a long time, but that said, it likely enabled the running order to be kept on time, which it remained throughout – to the minute! Victorious: The Punctual Festival! So, COACH PARTY took the stage bang on 1.55, opener “What Do I Care” launching off like a pocket rocket, the mix initially dominated, almost suffocated, by the heavy guitar sound, remaining so for the undulating, almost doo-wop “3 Kisses”, but thankfully clearing up for a flippant “Everybody Hates Me”, some grungy Pixies-ish ascending riffery nonetheless the feature of the best sounding number so far. The band themselves, however, were on good form, fully road tested after a number of Festival gigs (including a support slot for French band Indochrine at the 96,000 capacity Parc Des Princes!), and vocalist Jess was in relaxed mood; “we’ve been here a couple of hours and no-one’s asked me for pills yet! I’ve [normally] got a pilly face...!”

 A headlong, punkish “Shit TV” preceded a debate about how many of the audience had seen The Sugababes’ mainstage set, which culminated in a “fuck the Sugababes!” chant! The hurtling “Breakdown” then featured a mid-song dead stop before some cacophonous riffery and primal screaming from guitarist Steph, and “FLAG”’s strident, fist-pumping choral drama then ceded to the already indiepop classic finale, the brilliant “Can’t Talk, Won’t”, rounding off a non-stop, breathless and action – packed half hour from these increasingly promising IOW newcomers.

 Took a slow amble back after catching our breath, running into Stayawakes bassist Pete, there with friends and his baby daughter! A quick chat before wandering back into the main arena where the blue overall-clad DODIE was just rounding off her mainstream pop set with a number about a train driver, to Hockey International-level screams from her young female massive. Thankfully they cleared out and we were again able to get some barrier, house right, for a proper Common Stage double whammy!

 

“Hello to all and sundry!” announced a familiar grey-mopped figure promptly at 3.30; “we’re a band called WE ARE SCIENTISTS and we think we’re the best band called We Are Scientists!” Keith Murray (for t’was he) then proceeded to underline that “best band” claim, leading the trio through a superb set of itchy, angular post-punk and bright, singalong powerpop. The Wannadies-esque racey, pacey opener “You’ve Lost Your Shit” led into the dramatic chugging backbeat of “Buckle”, and an entertaining between-band debate about work, Keith coming to the realisation, “shit, I AM at work! And so are you [Chris]!” The pounding, circular riff and soaring, Silver Sun helium chorus of “Contact High” was a breathless, brilliant set highlight, but in all honesty every one was a winner. I’d done my homework after their fine December 2021 Trinity set (gig 1,203) so was able this time to recognise and sing along to every number, from the hooky, angular “It’s A Hit”, through the taut, funky Talking Heads on speed “I Cut My Own Hair” (which featured a mid-song pregnant pause, Keith asking the crowd to keep to the clapping tempo for 7 minutes!), via the thrusting, pinprick rhythm of oldie “Nobody Move” to the final anthemic number “After Hours”, which concluded an expertly and energetically delivered Festival set, ultimately my favourite of the day.

 

We were all in for the next lot as well though, so stayed on our barrier spot as a WAS roadie tracked down a mixing desk setlist for me (lists being hard to come by, today). Chap! Another half hour wait, but this time along with a larger and more enthusiastic and anticipatory crowd, comprising a lot of conspicuously young ladies. No surprise really, the young gentlemen of INHALER are quite the bunch of lookers, as well as a very promising young guitar band, with vocalist Eli Hewson (son of U2’s Bono, and currently the same age as his old man when he and his schoolboy chums delivered their second and best album, “October”, waaay back in 1981) a tousled rock heart throb in the making. Bugger the looks and lineage though, for me it’s all about the tunes; Inhaler may be silver spoon boys, but that only gets you through the door, and then you need quality songs to stop you getting kicked back out of the room. Opener “It Won’t Always Be like This” immediately showed they have those, with an immediate soaring singalong to the stadium-sized hook, and newie “Move On” was equally pacey, albeit darker and more Cure-like. No one-trick post-punk ponies these, though, as “Why Does It Hurt” was a looser limbed and dancier number, although featuring hints of “Joshua Tree”-era U2 atmosphere and space. “Who’s Your Money On” saw Eli exhort his young followers to jump along in his thick Irish brogue, and the urgent, fire-alarm clatter of “When It Breaks” incited a moshpit behind us to the brief concern of the bouncers.

 Newie “These Are The Days” was a blue collar rocker recalling Springsteen or even The Boomtown Rats (!), and the double salvo of “Cheer Up Baby” and an excellent, albeit slightly thin sounding, “My Honest Face” ended a fine set, one which I’d now like to see indoors at closer quarters. Showing a little inexperience on the big stage (particularly in comparison to their 7 album, 15 year veteran predecessors We Are Scientists), this was nonetheless a fine showing from a band seriously going places, if they can deliver on their promise with the “difficult” second album, due soon…

 

That was our afternoon Common Stage entertainment, and this took us up to 5.10… and teatime! So we took another slow amble along Market Way and grabbed some dirty burgers and fries from the eaterie with the shortest queue, then bumped into Coach Party’s Steph for a quick chat about that Parc Des Princes gig (!), before plonking down on a boulder for tea. Still a paucity of seats around the site, despite claims to the contrary… anyhoo, back into the nearby Castle stage for SPORTS TEAM, whose upbeat and optimistic bouncy Britpoppy/ indie set was enthusiastic and effervescent, full of spritely spunky youthful spunky spriteliness (as I said to Logan!), and in vocalist Alex Rice, featured an energetic, all-action and kinetic stage presence. Well, not just the stage, as it turned out… “Our Entertainment” was a breathless stomper, “New Day” got the young ST massive jumping about, kicking up a dustbowl moshpit, and a fast, frisky “Going Fishing” slowed for a huge singalong chorus. A few tongue-in-cheek anti-Reading Fest comments were fun, before Alex clambered atop the speaker stack to deliver the vocal to the bolshy “Ashton Kutcher” before going one better, launching into the crowd in front of us and crowdsurfing a considerable distance out during the Doors-like 60’s psych wig-out final number!

 

The ST massive cleared out then as dusk started to fall, the crepuscular light seeming to be the perfect backdrop for WHITE LIES. I was wondering how their more studied and studious pseudo-gothy 80’s oeuvre would follow on from the seat-of-your-pants bounciness of Sports Team, but from the moment they took the stage prompt at 7.10 to a rapturous welcome and launched into the strafing guitar assault of opener “Farewell To The Fairground”, they were “on it”, the mid-song dead stop and hook singalong providing a startling juxtaposition to the wall of guitar sound, but also adding drama and gravitas. A speeded-up “To Lose My Life” followed, slowing for the audience-chanted choral hook, and newie “Am I Really Gonna Die” was a smooth synth-pop delight. The mid-set “Big TV” sheet metal Visage-like synth hook was an unexpected clapalong, the crowd well engaged in this fine performance from the boys, but all things were leading up to the double whammy finish…

 Charles Caves’ epic growling bass line heralded penultimate number “Death”, the tempo slowing considerably twice for the “fear’s got a hold of me” hook, before launching into huge impressive life for the denouement. Then set closer, the stabbing keyboard intro to a soaring, anthemic “Bigger Than Us” rounded off a set not completely bereft of flaws (Harry’s voice in particular sounding a little raspy and road-weary, occasionally straining at the top end), but well chosen and overall rather splendid.

 This took us to 8 – Logan double-queued for churros in the dusty and dusky gloom, and we wandered back into the now-packed main arena where THE WOMBATS were kicking up a rowdy, rabble-rousing but eminently forgettable Arctic Monkeys-lite noise on the Common Stage. After grabbing some water and taking a watching brief, however, my knee cried “enough”, so we forewent the potential hike back and hour’s wait for Castle headliners Bastille, instead sneaking through the Common Backstage to the car park thanks to a kindly steward who took pity on my hobbling. Home at 10.30 after a generally quite successful day; more places to sit would be nice, but maybe I was only more cognisant of this due to my bad knee. More importantly, everyone we wanted to see delivered big time, with We Are Scientists winning Band Of The Day for me, Logan going for White Lies. Overall, a great day out, living up to its name; Victorious!

1,239 SI AND MATT HALL, Jim Blair and Hip Route, Swindon The Tuppenny, Thursday 28th July 2022

 

“We’d like to thank Covid 19 for our second headline show of the year!” deadpanned Si at the start of their set tonight, this (very!) short notice replacement gig being due to tonight’s intended headliners at The Tuppenny’s regular Thursday night Music Club testing positive for the dreaded ‘rona. Thankfully no-one was really ill from it (hence Si feeling able to make the above comment!), but this gave me a local gig on an otherwise quiet Thursday, catching up with the brothers Hall, former mainstays of Raze*Rebuild, one of my favourite bands of recent times, and now ploughing a more acoustic version of said band’s blend of Springsteen-esque heartland Americana and Mould-esque hooky popcore sonic assault. A combination of family commitments and lack of funds meant I missed their recent “My Dad’s” Festival set, but having caught them last month at The Beehive (gig 1,233) I knew Si and Matt were in fine form. So here we go!

 Parked in a free sidestreet spot after finding my now-preferred free-after-6 car park was full, and wandered around to the ‘Tupp just after 8, chatting with Matt about our kids (!). Local mainstay Jim Blair, who’d also thrown his hat in the ring as a late replacement tonight, was just finishing sound-checking, and, along with Hip Route bass partner John, started their duet set shortly afterwards. Jim, a flared trousered, barefoot rocker with the soul and husky, grizzled voice of a Mississippi Delta bluesman, and his baseball-capped cohort John laid down some down and dirty old school swampy blues, slightly affected by speaker issues (promoter and soundman Ed Dyer remarking someone had thrown a glass of whisky over it!) but with Jim’s highly proficient and intricate fretwork a feature, particularly after switching to a lap steel for the set’s denouement. The slow burn to noisy crescendo of “Find My Way” and closer, a growling rendition of the old standard “Come Together” were highlights of a good set. Still not to my usual tastes, but my narrow-minded ears are still suitably educated to recognise talent. And these boys have that…

 An entertaining between-sets discourse with Ed (or should I say, “Teddy”?!) before I had a pre-gig chat with Si about his recent hand issues – the new guitar helps, but he needs to educate his muscle memory into playing softer and gripping less hard! As we mentioned before, you can take the boy out of the punk band, I guess, but…! Further evidence of that, as Si and Matt kicked in at 9.40 with a smooth “Rhythm And Rhyme”, came from his one foot back, forward leaning stance to deliver his somewhat reined-in yet no less authoritative vocals. Following an early, melancholy “Slow Burn”, the toilet-circuit road movie soundtrack “Face For Radio” was introduced as “a Raze*Rebuild song,” some wag down the front (OK, me…) commenting that it was on their Coasters EP, Si then quipping, “we changed our name [to Raze*Rebuild] as we got requests for “Yakity Yak”!”

 

I’ve always said one sign of a great song is the performer’s ability to deliver it “live” in radically different ways; that being the case, Si and Matt write great songs. Full stop. The formerly galloping rocker “Troubled Minds” turned into a deliciously austere self-examination, while the multiple tumbling hooks of a later “Back To The Fall”, my favourite Raze number, would sound great in any setting, and even a slight middle-8 miscue from Matt (causing Si to come back with the subsequent amended hook of, “Matthew Hall, Matthew Hall…”!) didn’t detract from its excellence for me. In between, newie “Keep Distracted” lamented a partner’s absence abroad, and the atmospheric “You’re The Chalk” saw Si give his voice full beans (possibly a little too many!); then the galloping hoedown closer “Audiobook” again reflected a journey from youthful punk rock indignation to middle (r)age cynicism (and featuring the brilliant line, “can I smash the system while seated – and in comfortable shoes?”), rounding off another fine set.

 Quick chat with the boys afterwards (Si reckoning they were just “OK” tonight, but what does he know – he never watches his own gigs!) and a lengthier discourse with Ed about the importance of continuing to attend events in these troubled and financially pressured times, before I threw a fiver in the tip jar and headed home. As I mentioned, I’m glad the scheduled performer is alright, but even happier for their absence tonight, and another chance to catch up with, and be entertained by, this talented duo!

1,238 DEAN WAREHAM, Ryder The Eagle, Bristol Fleece, Monday 25th July 2022

 

A gig over 2 ½ years in the waiting, this... the last of my pre-Covid booked gigs to actually take place, I booked tix for this one in December 2019, only for various lockdowns either side of the pond to delay the tour 4 times overall (although it seemed more!). Either way, it’s finally here; former Galaxie 500 and Luna frontman Dean Wareham, delivering a rendition of his first band's seminal 1989 sophomore album “On Fire” to celebrate its 30th (well, 32^nd now!) anniversary. A serious precursor for the early 90’s shoegaze scene, this, with dreamy and droney material taking a slight cue from the Velvet Underground but otherwise sounding unlike anything else of its era, I picked up on it as part of my late 80’s Boston-area musical voyage of discovery - Pixies, Muses, Dinos, Tom, Dipper... heck, even Birdsongs Of The Mesozoic found their way onto my radar back then! Only got to see G500 the once (November 1990, gig 178 - missed them a couple of times before that) and honestly they weren’t all that, but I subsequently enjoyed my Luna shows (gigs 269 and 294) better, so happy to give Dean and this album another chance!

 Old friend Beef joined us too - disgracefully, this was the first time I’d seen him since before lockdown! What happens with a friendship predicated on going to gigs, I guess... anyway, much catching up ensued during a swift drive to Brizzle, thence parking up just round the corner of The Fleece and chatting outside before 7.30 doors. Got the drinks in inside, running into “Shiiine On” buddy Matt and finally meeting Martin, our erstwhile 4th “Shiiiner” for this year! Support Ryder The Eagle was bloody awful - a young bullfighter-clad bloke singing moody dirges to backing tapes? Nope nope and thrice nope, so Beef and I scuttled back outside, being joined later by Matt, who advised Ryder had since hopped offstage, gone round the crowd singing in people’s faces and was currently rolling on the floor, stripped to the waist...

 Joined the muso throng back inside and stood by the bar, 2/3rds back - no need for front row spots for this one, given the atmospheric mellow melancholy of the “On Fire” material... Sure enough, Dean led his 4-piece band onstage to little fanfare, easing into a few choice cuts from his current album “I Have Nothing To Say To The Mayor of LA”, which veered between slow-burn atmospherics (“As Much As It Was Worth”) and more upbeat yet still languid grooves a la early Luna (opener “Corridors” and the catchy “Cashing In”, which featured the delicious line, “every fuck was a flying fuck”!). Again, with little fanfare, “Blue Thunder” then heralded the “On Fire” rendition, Dean lifting his vocals through numerous octaves to hit the mainly falsetto notes required by this dreamy yet discordant material - largely successfully!

 On my only Galaxie 500 “live” experience, I felt their performance veered too much towards jarring noise, even finding a few “On Fire” numbers a little too much during recent revision listens in the car... tonight, however, Dean and crew balanced that off-kilter discordancy skilfully with delicate dreamy atmospherics, providing a heady and beguiling mix. “Snowstorm” was a hushed and fragile delight, building to a meandering wah-wah guitar riff, and “Another Day”, sung by guitarist Britta (more on her later) was a 60's influenced psychedelic San Fran drug den drone with a baroque, almost Jefferson Airplane chorus! “Leave The Planet” featured some thrilling Byrds-ian backwards psych-guitar riffery and Mo Tucker-esque tub thumping, overlaid by Dean’s own slightly misbehaving mouth organ clarion blare, whilst “Isn't It A Pity” was a touching, air-clearing ballad to close out a surprisingly fine set.

 

A couple of encores, including the tumbling, undulating “Flowers”, the slow-build to crescendo of my favourite G500 number “Tug Boat” and a Red Crayola cover, “Victory Garden”, which required a break midway through thanks to some nasty feedback, rounded off a splendid performance. Swiped a mixing desk list (hooray!) and got it signed by an affable, masked-up Dean and his merch-stand bound wife and band guitarist Britta. Ah yes,Britta... Britta Phillips (for t’was she) was the lead singer of excellent early 90's US shoegazers The Belltower, hosts of my landmark gig no. 200 in November 1991 and a couple of other performances back then, including a Friday Big Tent set at my first Reading Festival in 1991, which I attended at the expense of the mainstage debut of a then-unknown band called (ahem) Nirvana... I shared said story with Britta before farewells to Matt and Martin and a swift drive home, Britta being just amazed that anyone still remembered The Belltower! A surreal way to end a better than anticipated gig 2 ½ years in the waiting!

1,237 FRANCIS OF DELIRIUM, Supp. Briston Maroney, Bristol Exchange, Monday 18th July 2022

 

The hottest day in the UK in my lifetime, and I’m spending the evening in a tiny and sweaty venue supporting the support… it’s either dedication to the rock’n’roll cause, or total insanity; you decide!

 Either way, this one was an eagerly anticipated one from Luxembourg (!) newcomers Francis Of Delirium, whom I’d discovered on that old reliable “New Music For Old Punks” facebook page last year, finding them a heady mixture of smooth, swirling dreampop, widescreen epic indie and down and dirty grungy riffery, with “Lakes”, their finest number, strongly recalling the excellent Madder Rose’s classic “Car Song” and comfortably making it onto my “Best of 2021” CD compo. An odd combination too, with the core duo consisting of Jana, a young female vocalist/ guitarist and her partner-in-crime Chris, a veteran player much (much!) closer to my age! I’d just missed their tour support with Coach Party last year (now, that’d be a great combination) plus a June support tour taking in Bristol, but was happy to snap up tix for this one, in support of Briston Maroney, a name fairly unfamiliar to me. There for the support, then!

 Fully hydrated, I set off down a baking M4 with the aircon on full, stopping at the services to cool the car down and only putting my own tshirt on when I parked opposite the venue! Grabbed a well-needed drink and chilled (in this heat? Ha!) outside while the Briston Maroney massive, mainly consisting of young student girls, filed in. So I followed suit and grabbed a front row spot, house left, promising my front row companions I would relinquish it after FoD were done. A baggy black-clad Jana led the 3-piece band on promptly at 8 (no Chris – I discovered later he doesn’t tour due to family reasons; fair enough!) and straight into the hushed intro to “Lakes”, then hitting the off-kilter, angular rhythm riff… and hitting it hard! It was obvious therefore from the outset that this “live” Francis Of Delirium iteration were here to rock, and they proceeded to tear the Exchange a new one with a potent, powerful and fiercely determined display, taking their cue from Jana herself. “Red”, next up, featured some fierce riffery from Jana, underpinning the looped “all makes sense” hook, and the excellent “Funhouse” clattered along propelled by an almost Bauhaus “Dark Entries” drumbeat. “Are you all excited to see Briston?” asked Jana – nope, I’m here for you guys!

 

A droney, stream-of-consciousness “Let It All Go” ceded into the stately, slow-burn dark and dirty dirge of “Losing”, which recalled Manchester Orchestra (!), before my set highlight, the stark, confessional lyricism and jagged Seafood-esque quiet-loud dynamics of “Ashamed”, which was quite brilliant, a quantum leap ahead of the considerably more muted recorded version. The Pixies-ish build to the terrace chant hook of set closer “Quit Fucking Around” was preceded by Jana asking for some audience participation for said hook; I think we got 6 out of 10 for enthusiasm but only 4 “because they can’t sing”! Whatever, Francis Of Delirium scored a perfect 10 for me for fierce, clear-eyed conviction, and delivery of a quite stunning set.

 

Grabbed my breath and left the front rows to the Briston massive after Jana had kindly handed me the sole list, then I grabbed signatures from the affable Luxembourgish rhythm section, unloading afterwards, plus a longer chat with the merch stand-bound Vancouver expat Jana. Zac, a blond chap who took our pic, complimented my rocking out down the front; I replied, “I’m only here for them – I’ve not even heard of Briston Maroney”, to which he retorted, “me neither, but I am in his band…!” Oops!

 Egged on by Zac and Jana, I took a watching brief at the back for Briston. I had actually checked out brief bits on YouTube, and as expected he initially dove in with a Pixies-ish “Wave Of Mutilation”-like chunky rocker “Bottle Rocket”, to a barrage of screams from his young female massive – no surprise really, he’s quite a handsome chap in a young psych-slacker Evan Dando way, I guess… Subsequent numbers variously recalled the chunky powerpop of early Ben Kweller/ Ben Lee, or blander 70’s druggy late night Venice Beach campfire swayalong balladry, but either way I wasn’t feeling the vibe overall, so after ½ hour I said my farewells to the FoD folks and left for a more comfortable drive home, back by 10.30. On another night I’d probably have enjoyed him more, but, similarly to The Slow Readers Club following Desperate Journalist at the Thekla in 2017 (gig 1,063), tonight wasn’t his night. Like them, he’d already been blown off stage for me by his support before even taking to it…! Nope, tonight was Francis Of Delirium’s night, a searingly hot set on a searingly hot night!

1,236 THE STAYAWAKES, Swindon Lydiard Park “Cheese and Chilli Festival”, Saturday 2nd July 2022

 

The third gig in barely a couple of months for me with these South Coast surf power-pop (beach?) boys The Stayawakes as hosts, and, improbably, this one’s a home tie…! The lads recently announced a 3-date early Summer tour, of which last Friday’s jaunt down to Southampton’s splendid Hobbit (gig 1,234) was the first, a midweek date at Camden’s legendary Britpop watering hole The Good Mixer the second, and an appearance as musical entertainment at Swindon Lydiard Park’s Cheese and Chilli Festival the third! Say whaaaaat!!! I nearly fell off my chair when I saw this; after trekking down to their neck of the woods to see them lay waste to a sleepy Arts Centre in deepest darkest Hampshire, now I’d get to rock along to their irresistibly hooky powerpop harmonies in my own back yard? Thanks, I do!

 I’d quizzed them last Friday about this one; a 6 p.m. half hour slot to close Fest Day 1, so Logan and I planned to cycle over to save on car parking costs. However, the impending drizzle finally arrived early afternoon, threatening to throw a quite literal dampener on our plans. Luckily there was a brief break in the clouds about 3-ish so we headed over then, locking bikes up by the café and wandering the wrong way around the fenced-off Festival site. D’oh! Stayawakes drummer Steven, who’d just parked his car around the back, joined us as we headed in, weaving our way through a maze of virtually deserted stalls selling all sorts of mainly chilli merch (including sauces ranging from hot to flaming mad bastard!), to the also quiet eaterie and beer tent-flanked main performance area in the corner. Clearly the weather had put a lot of folks off attending today… Nonetheless, we caught up with the boys plus their entourage – they’d brought their families along, hoping for a nice picnic afternoon in the grounds of Lydiard House, but the weather had let us all down. Enjoyed a chat with Steven’s dad anyway, plus a catch-up with Jimmy and Pete punctuated by our having to scuttle for cover thanks to a particularly nasty dark cloud opening its contents on us!

 The hardy souls that had toughed it out were then “treated” to a chilli eating competition, as 10 reckless individuals suffered through rounds of ingesting various evilly named chillies measuring several hundreds of thousands on the heat scale, a couple even throwing up in the process. Yuck! Luckily things were cleared up, and even luckier a seam of white sky appeared between two dark foreboding clouds, rendering it soggy yet rain-free for The Stayawakes, who kicked off early at 5.15ish with the rolling drums of “Wendi”. That strident drumbeat aside, this initially lacked its usual fiery launch, with Andrew late into the initial vocal line, but then didn’t lose much time building up to its’ usual escape velocity. And actually, for once, the sound was pretty decent as well… whilst the sound systems for their other 2 gigs have struggled to cope with The Stayawakes’ rampant volume assault from the off, this one, despite basically being a couple of speakers in a field serving a temporary open fronted (and backed) gazebo stage set-up, sounded pretty well balanced with no instrument dominating any other. In fact, the only sound issue was with the Stayawakes’ penchant for swapping lead vocalists between numbers, the soundman making multiple trips to the front with his laptop to turn up various mics! And of course, the boys, once again in their matching pink polka shirts, gave it their energetic all, ricocheting around the stage like pastel pink balls in a pinball machine.

 

An early “Please Steve Just Drive” was dedicated to The Hart Foundation, the boys showing an impressive knowledge of vintage WWE (WWF?) by listing obscure members; then there were the cheese puns… they’d prepared caerphilly (groan) for the Fest with a selection of (quite literally) cheesy quips, Andrew’s comment of, “catch our set on the Brie Brie C i-Player,” being probably the best of a bad bunch! But the rock, as ever, rocked… an infectiously hooky mid-set “Pink Wave” was my set highlight this time, although the descending riffery of “Inevitable Truth” (“our ode to Bob Mould,” as Andrew called it) ran it close. “Lovestruck” as ever was a fist-pumping singalong, and the 2 oldies, the Gigolo Aunts’ “Mrs. Washington”-alike “Jake” and headlong hurtling finale “Little Explorer” rounded off a set, wherein The Stayawakes happily brought a bit of South Coast sunshine to a soggy Swindon field.

Si (who’d turned up with Kathryn midway through the chilli eating contest) renewed acquaintances with Jimmy before they headed off; then we hung around awhile as the Festival literally closed around us (!) before cycling back home after effusive thanks and farewells, home for kebab tea. So the Festival itself might have been a damp squib (Day 1, at least...), but nonetheless there were musical fireworks, thanks to The Stayawakes!

1,235 SOCCER MOMMY, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Sunday 26th June 2022

 

Another Rough Trade in-store gig and CD signing session, but this time with daughter Jami! I’d enjoyed “Color Theory”, 2020’s sophomore effort from Nashville’s Soccer Mommy, effectively a band vehicle for talented newcomer Sophie Allison to sprinkle a flurry of hazy lazy Belly/ Blake Babies college pop/dreampop stardust over her self-exploring confessional lyrics, then deliver them in a pure, delicate voice recalling Madder Rose’s Mary Lorson. So her impending new album “Sometimes, Forever” was already on my shopping list before I heard about this in-store show. Tix were duly snapped up, then, not only for myself but also for Jami, who enjoyed the repeated car CD plays. So, another daddy/ daughter gig!

 Rach was off early for a sea swim event so I still had to do the grocery shop first, but I did that in double-quick time so Jami and I could leave just after 11 for a swift drive and annoying queue into Cabot Circus car park, then a soggy tramp through a drizzly Bristol. Hit the venue about 20 past 12, picking up our new album CDs then taking a spot near the front, house right, and admiring the plethora of guitars onstage – no other equipment, so this was definitely a Sophie solo show! She joined us at 1 p.m., greeting her quietly attentive audience with, “hi guys… what is it you say; are you alright?... Now I’ve warmed you up with my humour, I’ll play some songs” and easing into the Madder Rose-esque sombre slow-burn opener “With You” off the new album. In fact, after then making reference to her guitar line-up (“an arsenal of guitars for a 30 minute set! And they’re all in [the key of] “A”!”), she announced that the set would consist solely of new album tracks – her prerogative, sure, but as an audience member, it was also my prerogative to feel a little disappointed by that, as I was looking forward to at least a couple of “Color Theory” tracks (“Circle The Drain” and/or Jami’s favourite “Royal Screw Up” would have been nice). Oh well…

 

Anyway, “Bones”, next up, had more of a slightly countrified Lemonheads slacker vibe, and “Shotgun” was more immediate, with a hooker chorus juxtaposing its’ melancholy verse. Following that, Sophie (who was open and charming throughout) asked for early favourites from the new album, a couple of punters calling for “Darkness Forever”, much to her chagrin… apparently this one was “too dark” and featured a really loud scream that the producer coaxed out of her during recording. So that was out too! Instead, she reached for the best-looking guitar, a sky blue asymmetric model which drew gasps from the crowd and a comment of, “it’s not mine, it’s [Soccer Mommy guitarist] Julian’s!” “Don’t Ask Me”, which received the benefit of this instrument, was my favourite of the set, again giving off strong Dandoesque laid-back college pop vibes. We made our way to the back during final number, the understated melancholy of “Still” (which also featured a descending choral chord structure recalling Buffalo Tom’s classic “Taillights Fade”), so we could be early in the queue for CD signing, greeting Sophie for a few quick words, signed CDs and a photo before heading off, back home just before 4 via shopping and Slim Chickens lunch in Cabot Circus.

 So, overall, a pleasant and diverting way to spend a Sunday, but one not likely to threaten my “Best Of” gig list for the year… disappointed about the lack of familiar material in her set, but a couple of promising new numbers, especially “Don’t Ask Me” which I’m looking forward to hearing in full band form. But of course, the track I’m looking forward to hearing the most (forbidden fruit and all that..) is the dark and screaming “Darkness Forever”…!

1,234 THE STAYAWAKES, Supp. Everyone Lies, Stankfinger, Southampton The Hobbit, Friday 24th June 2022

 

Happy Birthday to me! And what better way to celebrate another trip around the sun than a gig, although not the initially intended one… Nope, this was actually scheduled to be a “Boys Weekend” down the South Coast with Logan, seeing 80’s art school punk/ New Romantic legend Adam Ant at Brighton Centre, then an overnight stop at a friend’s house and a shopping Saturday in Brighton, but unfortunately Adam tested positive for Covid so he postponed this one. Bah! Nonetheless, Plan B then came into operation in the shape of this, the first date in a triad of shows by recent Southsea powerpop favourites The Stayawakes, a triple-threat which, improbably, includes headlining next Saturday’s Cheese and Chilli festival at Lydiard Park in… Swindon! Yowsers! Still, not willing just to settle for that one, I was up for a birthday jaunt to the South Coast; on my own this time, Logan deciding to sit this one out (“The Stayawakes? Aren’t they playing in Swindon next weekend? Well… they’re playing in Swindon next weekend!”)

 Took Logan karting this afternoon for an impromptu replacement birthday event to celebrate his own 15^th, 2 days ago, then dropped him home just after 6, got changed then hammered down the inclement A34/M3 beat route to Soton, parking around the corner from this old school pub venue just after 7.30. Got “carded” on the way in for the first time in 30 years (a crime prevention thing, rather than being due to my youthful looks!) before heading downstairs, expecting to find a small subterranean room… wrong! The staircase took us past the venue room on the left (where The Stayawakes were soundchecking), then opened up into rock pub Narnia, with a tiered drinking balcony overlooking a wide open-air courtyard and wooden gazebo. Nice! Very “indie” as well, underlined both by the soundtrack (Bowling For Soup in particular on heavy rotation) and the clientele, one punter complimenting my new “birthday” green Tuk creeper sneakers, after I’d done likewise to his blue tartan trews! Met Dave, an old friend of The Stayawakes’ Jimmy who’d read my blog review of their recent Fareham gig (gig 1,224), and we compared notes before being joined by The Stayawakes for birthday drinkies and rock chat, the boys being happy to see me and not at all fazed about being “sloppy seconds” to Adam Ant (As bassist Jimmy noted, “we’re probably not the first [to be]!”).

 Before too long it rolled up to 8.30, so we funnelled into the small venue room (completely neglecting to pay the £2 cover. Whoops!) where the guys set up and donned the ubiquitous matching pink polka dot shirts. In a hurry to crack on through their packed set-list, Steven launched the set into life via the thunderous rolling drum opening of “Wendi”. Unfortunately, that was initially pretty much all I heard… Steven being such a hard hitter, and the room being so small and fairly sparely populated (probably about a dozen hardy punters venturing in) the mix was submerged by the drum sound for the opening couple of numbers, but thankfully, by the excellent, snaking “Please Steve Just Drive” it had settled to the point of the drums dominating rather than completely overpowering the mix. The Stayawakes, as ever, manfully powered through, taking this and other issues (Andrew breaking a string on his sole guitar and needing to borrow Everyone Lies vocalist’s instrument!) with good humour, Andrew remarking, “we’ve not played [The Hobbit] before… drunk here plenty of times…!” I powered through as well, rocking out from my stage front, house right spot as much as the now 57-year old knees allowed!

 

“Pink Wave” was superb, Peter’s undulating riffery finally rising above the dominant drums, then Andrew wished me a happy birthday (nice!) before the more sombre Pixies-ish march of “Stepping Over Cracks”. A racey, rocky “Cologne” was poignantly dedicated to a late former booker of the band, Peter unfortunately “twatting” Jimmy on the head with his guitar during the middle 8… The brooding, Hi-Fi like flippancy of “Back In 95” was probably my highlight tonight, the subsequent effervescent hooky brilliance of “Lovestruck” inevitably running it close. “It’s Cool, It’s Rad” concluded a set again initially beset with mix issues but again replete with The Stayawakes’ trademarks of verve, energy and upbeat enthusiasm. One day I’ll hear them play a venue with the sound pindrop-perfect from the off… now that’d be something…!

 I grabbed a balcony bench afterwards, the boys joining us after packing away, for more rock (and other stuff!) chat, drinks and rounds of superb home-cooked pizzas. Amongst other things, much comparing of rock’n’roll histories ensued, as I once again found much common ground with a splendid bunch of fellows who clearly relish being in a band together (Jimmy in particular eulogising about their shared musical bond). We ended up chatting over Stankfinger’s set, which veered between formulaic pop-punk and shouty noise (what little I remember of it, anyway!), but we all wandered back in to catch tonight’s headliners Everyone Lies. Openers at that Fareham gig, they again kicked off with some fast-paced Oi! Punk, but by now my knees were suffering from both the karting and rocking out to The Stayawakes, and, in danger of seizing up completely, I bade my farewells and headed off to the motor for a more circumspect drive back up to the ‘don, hitting home, somewhat wiped out, just after midnight. So, not the planned Antmusic gig and Brighton weekend, but Plan B still worked out splendidly, thanks to The Stayawakes!