925 GAZ BROOKFIELD, Lonely Tourist, Luke DeSciscio, Swindon The Victoria, Thursday 18 September 2014

And as before, a Frank Turner show is followed in pretty short order by… a Gaz Brookfield show! Rach and I had a lengthy and in-depth conversation about Frank and Gaz’ evident similarities on the way back from Saturday’s show, my conclusion being that considering their remarkably similar backgrounds (members of former punk bands – who, despite their best efforts and hard graft, never cracked it – turned solo folk-influenced performers) and usual subject matter (staying true to their punk protest roots whilst also drawing from their own life experiences), it’s pretty much a given that there would be musical and thematic similarities. Gaz even acknowledges this fact on his song “Frank And Sam”; however for me Gaz deftly walks that fine line between influence and plagiarism, his own individuality and voice shining through. I’ve certainly got room for both of ‘em in my life, record collection and gig itinerary, me!

 

This also being a full band show, there was another incentive (if one be needed) to attend this gig. So I trundled up the hill early doors under foreboding skies, hitting the venue for a chat with “Songs Of Praise” promoters Dave and Ed, fellow veteran gig-goer Stuart Langsbury, and a few words with Gaz himself, minding the merch stand, before opener Luke DeSciscio at 9. A raffish tousled gypsy-looking young chap with a tremulous, haunting voice, straddling the octaves between soprano and often atonal falsetto, his songs were minimal guitar embellishments for his talented vocal gymnastics and softly spoken, often trance-like delivery, as he weaved an eerie, melancholic atmosphere, which I enjoyed despite the lack of real hooky tuneage.

 

By complete contrast, Lonely Tourist, next up, was all about the tunes and the banter. Oh, the banter; “I’ll try to make this a referendum-free zone,” announced the expat Scot, “let’s face it, if [the vote is] yes, well it’s not you, it’s us, and if it’s no, then things will have to change!” The erstwhile Mr. Tierney’s short snappy banter was intermixed with short snappy tunes delivered at a hectic, rollicking pace, quipping along as he went (“a mad shagger for President! That’s the kind of country I’d like to live in!” and “what’s with the dry ice, is Kate Bush on next or what?”). “I Am A Fly”, which (deliberately?) appropriated the hook from Wire’s “I Am The Fly”, and the excellently received “The Ballad Of Paul Tierney” about his journeyman footballer namesake, were highlights of another entertaining set from the Bristol domiciled Scot who, as Ed remarked afterwards, “we might have to deport tomorrow!”

 

Things cracked on apace, and barely 10 minutes later Gaz and his 5-piece band were hooked up onstage and ready to rock, in front of a thankfully full and enthusiastic house. They were in no mood to fuck about; straight into the ramshackle rollercoaster ride of the double salvo of “Limelight” and “Land Pirate’s Life”, the crowd already rocking and singing along, and Gaz feeding off their/our enthusiasm. This was a damn hot one, the packed house really cranking up the heat, Gaz remarking on both this and the amazing Thursday night turnout on a number of occasions. A couple of numbers in, the differences between Gaz and Frank Turner were becoming evident; Gaz drawing more from the folkier aspect of his sound, particularly in a full band setting, with Ben Wain a focal point throughout with some virtuoso and frantic violin sawing (Gaz remarking early doors, “I don’t know about you but I could listen to [Ben] all night!”). After a huge ovation for the opening line in “Towns”, “I grew up in Swindon…!”, a cacophonous opening guitar squall and pounding drumbeat led into a tremendous “Black Dog Day”, delivered with scary, wide-eyed conviction and startling venom by Gaz, articulating the gravity of the subject matter perfectly and even giving the energetic singer reason to pause for breath at its’ conclusion. A savage “Be The Bigger Man” followed, equally dramatic and fiercely delivered. Gaz was totally in the zone for this mid-set double, no mistake!

 

We needed a sway-along “Under The Table” to lighten and diffuse the mood, then a solo interlude showcasing a new number “I Can’t Drink Cider Anymore” highlighting Gaz’ recent pancreas and diabetes problems, which I could empathise with. A half-spoken, confessional “Tell It To The Beer” evoked a melancholy mood, but Gaz and the band roared back to round off a startlingly quick hour set with singalong versions of “The West Country Song” and a ragged set closer “Diet Of Banality”, before staying on (“is there any point in us walking off then coming back on again? No? Then we won’t bother…”) for encore “Thin”, another rousing singalong to close out another tremendous set from this earnest, punk/ folk influenced hard-working balladeer and his fine band.

 

Said my goodbyes and left, driving home under sheet lightning-lit skies, to ease my aching limbs into bed (I’d been rocking out throughout from my front row, stage left spot). Aching knees the next morning, but Gaz was definitely worth it!

924 FRANK TURNER AND THE SLEEPING SOULS, Koo Koo Kanga Roo, Salisbury City Hall, Saturday 13 September 2014

My Autumn Dance card starts in earnest with this one, another Frank Turner show, mere months after opening my account with this extraordinarily talented and perceptive punk/ folk influenced wordsmith and balladeer (in the truest sense of the word; a travelling troubadour musician flitting from town to town, telling stories and reflecting incisively on the issues of the day, rather than just some jumped up hair band vocalist singing pseudo-romantic plodding slush from some drippy rom-com soundtrack). Well, after so long missing out on Frank’s talent, I’ve got some ground to make up, so I was all over the pre-sale for this one, selecting Salisbury rather than Bath or Oxford as it fell on a Saturday!

 

I dragged an initially reluctant Rachel along for this one – well, she likes Gaz Brookfield, I figured, so she should like Frank! – as we made our way down for only our second ever gig in Old Sarum (the only other occasion being Julian Cope at this very venue, gig 460, a mere 14 years ago!). A leisurely drive through rural Wiltshire’s villages saw us, thanks to good directions and navigation from my sweet Rachey, parking up behind the venue at 1/4 to 8. However we had to fully circumnavigate said venue just to find the entrance, tucked away in a rear courtyard! Not the only issue with this venue tonight, as it transpired...

 

Support Koo Koo Kanga Roo, despite having Frank’s personal ringing endorsement, were terrible; 2 idiots in sweatpants jumping up and down to a muffled hip-hop backing track, singing “songs” about dinosaurs and fanny packs. Allegedly Frank’s initial reaction to them was, “what the fuck?” before warming to them. Me, I’m still on that first reaction… Maybe passable as first warm-up on a They Might Be Giants kiddies matinee show, they were wholly inappropriate for a rock gig, although Rach was left considering booking them for the next school disco… So we sought shelter and refreshment in the packed foyer, only to find the queues for both bars immobile and about 20 deep! Massive queues for the tiny loos as well; it’s no wonder this venue doesn’t host gigs more regularly, given its’ wholly inadequate facilities…

 

Anyway, we popped back in and found a pocket of space towards the front, stage left, then the lights dimmed at 9 and Frank and the band, uniformly white-shirted, took the stage in short order and rocked straight into the ramshackle sea shanty opener of “Try This At Home”. Straight away the whole audience was enthusiastically singing and clapping along, totally engaged and swept up in the inclusiveness of the Frank Turner “live” experience. A tremendous mandolin-powered “Losing Days” (reminding me of James’ 80’s classic “What For”) preceded Frank welcoming us to, “show 1609!” before introducing the first of a smattering of new numbers and asking 2 requests of us; firstly, no filming during the newies (“film the rest of the show, I don’t care!”) and secondly, treat them like the old numbers! The audience responded perfectly to the speedy, off-kilter rollercoaster ride of “Out Of Breath”, the best newie on offer tonight.

 

Once again Frank was on top form; a born performer, charismatic, voluble and gregarious, a lot to say both in song and between, relating to the audience in this large hall as if we were a group of friends in a pub back room (still kicking myself about not turning on to Frank earlier and thereby missing the chance to see him in those type of venues!). Following a rambunctious “Reasons Not To Be An Idiot”, an energetic Frank remarked, “I have to address the issue of my untied shoelace or I’ll fall over and kill myself!” before the raw, passionate, backlit rendition of the Dashboard Confessional-alike “Disappeared”, an early highlight. This however was topped by a solo “Better Half”, which Frank claimed to only have played 3 times ever, but which was delivered brilliantly, with scary conviction and heart-cracking emotion as raw as his strained but passionate delivery.

 

We were regaled by an account of a 1998 Salisbury show for Frank’s old band, in which they turned up only to find they were double booked, told politely to fuck off, then ended up playing to 3 people at The Hobgoblin pub! A bit of a change to tonight, in which “Photosynthesis” saw this sell-out crowd all sitting down during the middle eight (not so fond of this, due to my dodgy knees…), before the hoe-down denouement saw everyone jumping about. A suspenseful “Plain Sailing Weather” followed, building to another passionate crescendo, then Frank introduced another newie “Get Better” (“about trying to get better… ha!”), with, “one more new song, then it’s wall to wall hits! I’m talking Bon Jovi, Squeeze, Del Amitri…!” No Dels though, but instead we got the jolly maypole dance of “Recovery”, with a crew member acting as dance instructor, before a toughened up set closer “Long Live The Queen” which nevertheless featured a slow, stripped back finale, showing how much this song – and the audience’s reverential singalong – still means to him, maaaan.

 

The encore highlight of “I Knew Prufrock Before He Was Famous” preceded another lengthy monologue from the man, thanking us for selling out tonight and reflecting on his current success (“I’ve been asked on this tour, why are you playing small venues [after playing arenas earlier this year]… there’s NO WAY this is a small venue!”), then a punk rock “Four Simple Words” brought a consummate 1 hour 45 performance to a close. Another fairly simple set-list later, we joined the queue to get out, as the entire audience was uncomfortably funnelled out through the small entrance, instead of opening up the fire exits at the back of the venue, again showing this venue’s complete unpreparedness for such a gig. Then a swift drive back in inky blackness, nonetheless reflecting on another excellent Frank Turner show!

923 CASE HARDIN, THE SHUDDERS, Tamsin Quin, Swindon the Victoria, Thursday 4 September 2014

A redemption of sorts to start off a hectic Autumn gigging dance card, with a trip up the hill to catch Tim’s band The Shudders. They’d been off my schedule since January, when a sloppy, drink-fuelled performance in front of a minimal crowd slightly tarnished a burgeoning reputation. Still, I’m prepared to give them a lot of rope (Tim’s my best friend – of course I’m going to give them a lot of rope!), and Tim’s recent promises that after a bumpy 2014 to date, things are coming together as they focus on the final stages of recording their second album, reassured me somewhat. I’d actually tried to catch them on the last night of the Swindon Shuffle, but couldn’t get into the 18+ only Beehive with a visiting Evan. So this was the next opportunity!

 

A drive up the hill with Dean, recovering from his knee op, saw us park up at 8 then socialise with Tim, Tracey, the rest of the band and the usual Vic crew for a while before the late-running “Songs Of Praise”-promoted evening finally got under way at 9, and we decamped into the venue to catch opener Tamsin Quin. A strikingly attractive young girl with a tumbling mass of brown curls and a self-deprecating smile at the end of each number, she poured her heart into some dark and soulful Delta blues and occasionally Celtic-tinged numbers, embellishing her emotive balladry with a smoky dark, world-weary voice which sounded old and wise way beyond her years. Charming too; “I’m going to sing a song about alcohol – because I like alcohol a lot, and sometimes it doesn’t like you back!” Some playful banter with Jim from Case Hardin over final number “Been So Long” was an entertaining end to a fine set.

 

The Shudders were next up and were keen to crack on, all guitarred up and onstage before schedule! It was clear from the outset that they were “on it”, with the soaring, Posies-like opener “Sorry” a melodic powerpop delight and a great way to open the set. Indeed, this set showcased a growing maturity and wider variety and breadth of songwriting prowess, taking in powerpop, indie rock, Americana and rootsy, dusty folk, highlighting their new album material perfectly. In fact, Danny plugged their first album then announced most of the songs tonight weren’t on it, prompting Tim to sardonically retort, “we’re great at this [self-promotion], aren’t we?”

 

The Shudders were actually great tonight, certainly the best I’ve seen them; “Sunrise” featured ringing guitar interplay interwoven with delicate harmonies, recalling Buffalo Tom’s rare quieter moments, then contrasting with the subsequent brash 70’s “Grease”/ rock stomp of “Angels”, which featured a surprisingly strident vocal performance from a confident Danny. Some comical Ardal O’Hanlon moments from Liam whilst tuning up (“My van ran out of diesel on the M4 today! Brilliant!”) preceded a toughened up “Words Of A Fool”, the only first album number on display tonight, and sounding way better thanks to an excellent drum performance from their (I still think of him as…) new drummer Jim, possibly tonight’s MVP. The superbly swaggering Replacements-like bar-room bluesy romp of “Thought I Saw You” segued into the sprawling set closer “Mary’s Grace”, now deserving of the epithet of “epic”, and capping a superb performance. Well done boys!

 

After that, headliners Case Hardin had a hard job of it, and for me fell short. They delivered a set of countrified folk and rock, mainly falling more into pedal steel/ Nashville swing trad country territory for me, rather than parched alt-Americana, with an energetic Captain Beefheart lookalike vocalist. Very accomplished both from a musical and songwriting perspective, and vaguely reminiscent of Jimmy LaFave’s red dirt music, and occasionally ”Rattlesnakes”-era Lloyd Cole minus his gauche charm, they went down well with this respectful audience (apart from a couple of out-of-place noisy slappers!) but didn’t press too many buttons for me. I liked the fun acoustic interlude on the floor, the bassist producing a huge double-bass to pluck in the process, but overall I admired rather than enjoyed their set.

 

Nevertheless, The Shudders came through tonight, so congrats were in order afterwards before the lateness of the hour (now bumping up to midnight! On a school night!) saw me drag myself off after another splendid “Songs Of Praise” evening, As I said, a redemption tonight for The Shudders!

 

922 THE SWINDON SHUFFLE, Various Swindon Venues, Friday 8th and Saturday 9th August 2014

This is, I’m ashamed to say, the first time I’ve partaken in the delights of the Swindon Shuffle, an annual event around the town to showcase the best of Swindon’s unsigned, up-and-coming and veteran acts. It’s now in its’ eighth year, after my friend Rich Craven was sat in the Vic one night and came up with the concept of a Swindon version of the Camden Crawl… Still, better late than never, and this year my recent interest in the excellent Nudy Bronque was the key factor in my attendance. They’re up the Vic, so so am I!

Rach and the kids were camping in our back garden Friday night – I hate camping, me, so this was also an excellent reason to get out of that! So I parked up around the corner from the Vic about 9, bumping into Swindon’s punk rock queen Debby for a chat before wandering into the back room, expecting to see The Racket, scheduled for 9. Instead, a well-attended room were bathing in the aural candyfloss of WILDEST DREAMS, the new musical brainchild of Zoe Mead, apparently a well-known name in local rock circles. First time I’d come across her or her music, and I was impressed; the 2-girl plus boy drummer trio played some wistful ethereal mood music midway between the lazy indie pop of The Sundays, and the more woozy shoegaze of Slowdive. I caught an unexpected half dozen of these dreamy soundscapes, their penultimate number, a more upbeat, haunting and pseudo-Goth one possibly called “Solitude” being my favourite of their set. Made me miss 2:54 a little, a very favourable start.

A quick chat with MC Ed Dyer revealed the Vic was running late, so my upsetting clash wouldn’t happen and I had time to go round to The Castle to catch the on-time set from FAYE ROGERS. Having chatted through most of her quietly impressive set at Riffs last time out, I was determined to pay attention this time! Faye had some technical issues during opener “Thunder”, but ploughed admirably through, getting her lovelorn little acoustic numbers back on track by 3^rd number, the heart-achingly beautiful “I Can’t Help But Love You”. This was a stark, raw little gem of a set, delivered by Faye in a pure, innocent sounding voice reminiscent of Harriet Sunday or Madder Rose’s Mary Lorsen, with sparse yet fitting musical embellishment from her backing band. “He’s Not Himself” was my highlight, a darkly dramatic but no less heart-tugging paean to her grandfather, who suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease, the chilling musical layers articulating the despair of the situation as succinctly as the lyric. I’m glad I paid attention this time, as this was a splendid set from a naturally talented, self-effacing young voice.

Quick chat with Faye and her mum, my old BT colleague Stella, before hot-footing back over to the by-now completely rammed Vic back room, for NUDY BRONQUE’s entrance at 10.30 after a fiddly set-up. Aiden, arms aloft, led the band (a 4-piece tonight, again augmented by their producer on keyboards!) into the Pulp-esque opener “Luggage” which segued straight into “Yoo Hoo”, the usual schizophrenic chord/ tempo/ mood changes immediately a feature, often a little frustratingly so, as you’re never entirely sure with Nudy Bronque, when one song actually finishes and another begins! But then that sense of unpredictability, that feeling of flying by the seat of your pants, is all part of the Nudy Bronque charm, right kids? Third (I think!) number “Allsorts” featured the stripped back base as the background to Aiden’s vocal gymnastics and pseudo-yodels, and eye-catching shape throwing and general frontman showing off! “No Wives, No Children” highlighted the fact that this band aren’t scared of often using almost complete silence as a feature of their songs, a sign of real confidence in my view, before switching suddenly to cacophonous noise in the same number! “No Wives”, for me also reminiscent of Boston’s Rocketscience’s excellent song “Killjoy”, segued effortlessly into the galloping Orange Juice “Blue Boy”-esque rodeo ride of “Peachy Keen”, their best number tonight, Aiden throwing in a “Hound Dog” reference before delivering the hook through a toy bull-horn. Barking mad!

A rocking “Juliet Ottewell” was the precursor to the denouement; a stretched, epic “Space Travel 2013 By Phone”, featuring another cacophonous, discordant outro which saw Aiden screaming the title through the bull horn again before seemingly thanking everyone in the packed room individually. Excellent stuff; this is not “wacky” or “funny” by design, it’s just pure entertainment, and tonight the Bronque took the showcase occasion of a packed Shuffle Vic and really upped their game, delivering probably the best performance I’ve seen from them. Well done boys!

I grabbed the list as MC Ed announced a 15 minute break, “to clear up [Nudy Bronque’s] bloody mess,” before headliners British Harlem. By now, this old boy was flagging a little so, with an early start for tomorrow, I said my farewells and left.

However, there was more Shuffling in prospect on Saturday! Having picked up Evan for his Summer stay with us, and having dropped Logan off for a playdate, we took a drive into town for a couple of Shuffle shows. Firstly, we headed into a sun-drenched lunchtime Central Library courtyard, bumping into Danny and Ellen (acting as MC for the afternoon), catching the last knockings of DAVE CORRIGAN’s strumalong kitchen sink drama and Americana tinged set, accompanied by Nudy Bronque’s producer on keyboards! Then we enjoyed another FAYE ROGERS set, a truncated 5-song version of last nights’, with “I Can’t Help But Love You” and “He’s Not Himself” again the highlights, Faye this time accompanied just by her guitarist and the set consequently having a more pastoral feel.

Then we grabbed pasty lunch and took a walk down to That’s Entertainment for SIMON HALL. I was expecting an outdoor full band set, but this would have been in direct competition with the big band noise from Wharf Green, so Si played a solo set in the shop window. Much more overt a delivery than other Shuffle performers so far, and generally falling between the blue collar anthems of The Gaslight Anthem and the heart-on-sleeve raw angst of Dashboard Confessional, this was again a fine set punctuated by no little wit (“I fell off my doorstep, so if my guitar playing sounds ham-fisted, it’s because my fist looks like a ham!”). I thoroughly enjoyed his own “Face For Radio”, a warts-and-all road movie for all bottom of the bill workaday acts, a well-observed “Fisherman’s Blues” which made up for a slightly incongruous “True Colours” (yup, the Cyndi Lauper song!), and some nice incisive lyricism elsewhere (“it’s been my mission to make bad decisions” and “I wrapped four chords around a girl who I thought meant the world to me” being 2 of my favourites). Shame no more than a dozen punters availed themselves of this nice little set.

So that was me all shuffled off for the day, as an overtired daughter necessitated a departure from town thereafter. Still, I’ve really enjoyed my first taste of The Swindon Shuffle; after all this time travelling around seeing bands, I’m finding that there’s good stuff right on my doorstep, especially Nudy Bronque, definitely my favourite Swindon band since Tim’s early You Are Here days, and who might be the first band to deservedly gain more national exposure since, ooh, XTC and Shriekback??? Either way, long may Swindon Shuffle, and in future I’ll be shuffling along with it!