919 SUEDE, Gruff Rhys, Westonbirt Arboretum, Saturday 21 June 2014

An outdoor gig on the hottest, sunniest and longest day of the year so far, with the pollen count stratospherically high and me having already had one hay-fever induced sneezing fit already today thanks to my rather recklessly mowing the lawn this morning? Well, it’s Suede, 90’s faves and recently reunited and definitely revitalised, so why not? Truth to tell, when this gig – a continuation of the “Forest Live” Summer gig series at the Arboretum which saw me catching up with Simple Minds on a sodden gig 822, 3 years ago – was announced, we booked it up as a birthday outing for me, fully aware of the vagaries of the British Summertime and therefore half-anticipating a murky, slate-grey evening, and mist evocatively rolling into the arena through the outlining trees. That would actually have worked really well, given Suede’s pre-disposition towards a slightly sinister mood, vocalist Brett Anderson himself admitting at our Hallowe’en Birmingham gig, last time out, that they were the ideal band for that evening! How on earth would their sleazy glam pop work, on an evening awash with brilliant sunshine rather than damp drizzle? Still, they’re always good value “live”, so here goes…

 

With Grandma on holiday, Tim and Tracey, so often gig companions, were our babysitters tonight! So we set off after settling the kids in with them, driving down on a sun-drenched evening, experiencing surprisingly easy access to the event field, parking up and wandering over to the strains of the Jam and, more welcomingly, Wire’s classic “Dot Dash”. The first point of notice was that the “arena” was smaller, the barriers brought in considerably from the Simple Minds gig, and the entrance a lot closer in to the stage. Probably a couple of thousand here tonight, then, most people relaxing on lawnchairs and picnicking! Nice crowd for a lazy and convivial Summer evening outdoors, but an odd one for a gig… Anyway, I was never much of a fan of Super Furry Animals, so support Gruff Rhys, on solo at 10 to 8, was onto a loser for me from the outset; however he made it worse by using those wretched tape loops to embellish his dour singer songwriter solo stuff. Rach found it telling that the only early number I clapped to was 3^rd one, “American Interior”, which was his first not to use loops! A couple of later, more uptempo numbers sounded better at the end of his set, but by then we’d completely lost interest and gone to get chips! Comes to something when his Bob Dylan “Subterranean Homesick Blues”-styled placards were the most entertaining part of the set…

 

We saw some familiar faces for a chat before the Sex Pistols’ nasty punk classic “Bodies” surprisingly heralded the entrance of the band, emerging into the still-bright mid-evening at 9 and easing into the slow, moody sweeping drama of “Pantomime Horse”. The glam riffery of the subsequent “Flashboy” picked up the tempo if not the atmosphere; despite all-action Brett Anderson’s exhortations, the sound was thin and one-dimensional, guitarist Neil Codling struggling with technical difficulties which continued intermittently throughout. The set needed a kick-start – and it got it with “Trash”. A tremendous version of this “manifesto” number really got the crowd bouncing, Anderson dramatically delivering the soaring chorus and inviting the crowd to fill in the hookline. “Animal Nitrate” followed, completing a superb double-whammy, Anderson all energy, leaps and jumps, putting himself fully into his performance and demanding the same commitment from the crowd; “what does to take to turn you on?????”, indeed!

 

A really strong early set-section continued with the touching late-night Bowie-esque balladry of “The Wild Ones” and a splendid “Drowners”, during which Anderson leapt the barriers and wandered through the front rows to massive squeals of delight. The set meandered a little for me thereafter; as this wasn’t a “normal” Suede gig, they’d clearly decided on a “Greatest Hits” set selection at the expense of material from their recent, superb “Bloodsports” CD, a crowdpleasing decision, but for me a shame. However, an excellent “Metal Mickey” and the set highlight of “New Generation” rounded off the set well, before another singalong of “Beautiful Ones”, and the sole encore “Stay Together” finished their seemingly slightly truncated 1 hour 20 performance.

 

I grabbed a set-list (to the confusion of the woman on the barrier next to me – “what’s that??” “It’s a set list…”) and we drove home after a remarkably easy egress from the site, Rach and I both coming to the same conclusion. Great start after “Trash”, sagged in the middle, great finish, shame there was only the one “Bloodsports” track, much better last year at Birmingham; but as I said at the outset, even an average Suede performance is good value and a damned entertaining evening, particularly with Brett Anderson, a true star, doing what he does best!

918 NUDY BRONQUE, Port Erin, Oui Legionnaires, Swindon the Victoria, Thursday 5 June 2014

Keeping it local tonight for this “Songs Of Praise”-promoted evening, showcasing a spritely young trio who are increasingly becoming my favourite Swindon band since probably the early days of You Are Here, in Nudy Bronque. I was impressed by both their quirky and arty music, difficult to define and pigeonhole but easy to enjoy, and their fresh fun approach to the “live” performance, last time out at Riffs, so here we are again for some more Nudy stuff and nonsense!

 

No idea on start times so I took a risk that it might be later, and picked Dean up at 8.30 for the trundle up the hill. I was right! We had time for a drink and chinwag with the arriving Nudy boys, plus tonight’s promoter Dave Franklin (who, rather handily, kept popping out of the backroom venue to let us know when bands were due on!), before slinging some coinage into the donations bucket for entrance, and checking out openers, Cheltenham’s Oui Legionnaires. A young trio, they kicked off with the tousled vocalist playing a Dashboard Confessional-like impassioned acoustic opener from the floor, in front of the sparse crowd, before joining his bandmates onstage and hitting the “rock out!” button squarely. They kicked up a high-octane thrilling post-hardcore/ thrashy EMO collision of noise and driving riffery, in a Seafood locking horns with Rival Schools and Husker Du kind of way. Some splendid strident choruses with conflicting/ competing harmony lines, as well as some Biffy-like tempo changes, also impressed, as did their onstage humour (viz. the vocalist being shy about introducing a number called "Fuck You Nottingham!”). Their set finished as it started; on the floor, with an acoustic Frank Turner-esque duet to eternal youth, with a hook of, “you’re just jealous cos we’re young and in love”. Impressive stuff. I’d have bought a CD if they had any (“our ex-guitarist still has them around his house in Gloucester!”), but rest assured I‘ll check this lot out again.

 

Port Erin, next up, were a different proposition; another trio, they started off intriguingly with a windswept US-alt country sounding opener evoking Shearwater or Grizzly Bear, but then their intricacies and fiddly riffery veered for me too uncomfortably close to Proggy clever-cleverness for the sake of it. A final, straight-forward rocker, showed better potential; they’re another band I’d happily check out again, if they kept things simpler!

 

Beef eventually turned up and we caught up, hearing his recent Spanish holiday horror story, before wandering in for headliners Nudy Bronque about 10.30. Introduced onstage as, “3 idiots with guitars and drums,” they were clearly playing to familiar faces and delivered a relaxed, fun set from the off. Opener “Luggage” set the tone early, a Pulp-like glam kitsch opener delivered with a swish and a swagger by vocalist and rivetting frontman Aiden. Clearly a big old showoff in his youth but finding the perfect outlet for his flamboyant tendencies and deep, old-beyond-his-years vocals, Aiden’s stage persona is part Jarvis Cocker, part Russell Brand, but all entertaining. The 60’s tinged kitchen sink drama of “No Wives, No Children” saw some yodelling vocals and squally guitar in equal measure, but the subsequent “Peachy Keen” was a real early highlight, the Orange Juice “Blue Boy” drumbeat gallop dovetailing into the hooky chorus and more thrilling discordant noise. Superb stuff, although the onstage banter (“in 10 years’ time they’ll say the world wasn’t ready for Nudy Bronque!”) and switching on of the drumkit’s striplights received as many cheers from the crowd as the song itself!

 

This lot don’t ever stray too far from the quirk (surely if “quirky” is an adjective, “quirk” should be a noun!?); even during their most straight-forward number, the upbeat Vaccines-fest indie rock of “Juliet Ottewell”, they stripped back the middle 8 to feature more of Aiden’s deep, resonant vocal histrionics and some comedic stage-prowling and menacing stares into the crowd. Again, final number “Space Travel 2013 By Phone” started with an art-school stomp and ended in a thrashy cacophony of noise, with Aiden delivering guitar riffery whilst rolling on the floor. They squeezed in an encore, the splendid and ridiculously catchy “Bottled Blonde”, which was introduced by the boys as, “the best song ever!” and was tonight’s excellent exclamation point on another little gem of a set from a band who deserve wider recognition. Hopefully they’re not too far from getting it!

917 WOLF ALICE, Superfood, Gengahr, Oxford O2 Academy 2 (ex Zodiac), Tuesday 13 May 2014

Last in a clutch of May gigs is this one, kind of a new band for a change! So here’s London’s Wolf Alice, a female fronted band whom I was (unsurprisingly) introduced to by Beef, finding them a challenging yet listenable mix of both shimmering and jagged guitar and vocals, reminding me at their best of my 90’s favourites The Julie Dolphin. A beguiling mix of the smooth and sharp on their small smattering of EPs to date, and therefore so far the most promising new band of this (admittedly fairly barren) year, I was intrigued as to how they’d balance both elements of their sound, “live”. One way to find out…

 

Beef was out of the country so couldn’t join us, so I travelled up with his mate Dean, taking my turn to drive as payback for Dean driving to Howler a couple of months ago! An early doors run up and a slight delay in Oxford, due to police navigating us around a shunt, nevertheless saw us parking up just after 7.30 in the – for once! – quieter Tescos car park, hitting the venue as openers Gengehr were working through their early numbers. They played some pleasant pastoral indie with some odd chunky guitar riffs which sounded all the more startling in comparison with their usual vibe, and featured a big beefy vocalist with an oddly keening, high pitched voice, reminiscent of Jonsi of Sigur Ros! A passable opener, overall.

 

Better was to come in the form of main support Superfood, on at 8.30; their opening track “Melting” appropriated the drum intro from the Boo Radleys’ classic “I Hang Suspended”, then bounded into a bouncy slice of Brit-indie pop, with those old fashioned staple virtues of good hooks and vocals, delivered by an impressive young vocalist. “Satellite” also featured a nagging choral hook and some fine harmonies, and the subsequent “Bubbles” was a looser-limbed sway-along with some deliciously discordant riffery. Their eminently tuneful set closed with an eponymous number which featured some heavier riffery and the hook, “you’re always hungry,” which was quite appropriate really, as I was hungry for more Superfood after this bright little gem of a set. Nice one!

 

The place filled up considerably after Superfood’s set, Wolf Alice’s appeal being evidently a broad one at this juncture – lots of old muso types (like ourselves) mixed in with enthusiastic teenage kids, keyed up and ready to mosh. And the place burst into floor-bouncing life when Wolf Alice took the stage at 9.30 in short order, ripping into the stomping grunge-lite of opener “Moaning Lisa Smile”, keeping up the momentum with the tumbling rhythm and Julie Dolphin-like soaring chorus of the subsequent “She”. That’s how to make an entrance!

 

Considerably more subdued on their clutch of EP releases to date, Wolf Alice tonight were a snarling animal, much harder-edged and strident “live”, with exciting proto-grunge riffery recalling a whole slew of excellent early 90’s female fronted bands. Whilst the opener “Lisa Smile” had the stomping strut of Veruca Salt, 3^rd number “Your Love’s Whore" recalled early Madder Rose, not least in waif-like vocalist Ellie Rowsell’s vocal inflections, and the subsequent mix of the colourful and caustic in “You’re A Germ” was reminiscent of a punkier Magnapop. Original? Hardly, but I couldn’t fault their taste in plagiarism, or their enthusiasm, as they delivered this set with power and pace.

 

“You guys are great!” proclaimed a breathless Ellie to the young mosh, before calming things down with an ethereal, hushed “Blush”, nevertheless building to a jagged guitar crescendo before melting into a well-observed cover of Chris Isaak’s eerie “Wicked Game”. Final number “Bros” with its’ tumbling guitar riff, got the old room bouncing again, closing out a swift 40 minute set, before the band re-emerged for a crunching finale of “Fluffy”, guitarist Joff Oddie crowdsurfing into the mosh, to conclude an impressive set.

 

Grabbed the list and got it signed by a polite Ellie, lurking around the merch stand afterwards, before heading off after witnessing a couple of fine new bands still finding their own identities, but treading the boards with style. A couple of names to watch – I’ll certainly be back for more Superfood – and Wolf Alice!

916 ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN, Black Submarine, Oxford O2 Academy, Saturday 10 May 2014

The hectic early May clutch of gigs continues apace with a revisit of my old “home team” Echo And The Bunnymen, the mythical voice of my late teenhood period of post-punk musical discovery, arguably the band against whom, consciously or sub-consciously, all other bands have since been measured. A crushing disappointment at this venue in 2010, when their “Masterclass in Rock’n’Roll” instead delivered a sloppy, off-key and frankly uncaring performance from main man Ian McCulloch, they nevertheless performed a resurrection of sorts with an excellent, nailed on showing supporting James last April. With a new album “Meteorites”, due out soon and apparently having re-ignited Mac’s enthusiasm and swagger, I was intrigued as to which Bunny would hop onstage tonight. So I booked myself a ticket with expectations suitably adjusted – I just want them to do justice to their legacy, that’s all…

 

I was joined tonight by new facebook friend but old Level 3 face Rich May, and we set off early doors, parking up after a short wait in what is now the World’s Busiest Car Park (official) behind Cowley Road Tesco, meeting up with Oxford-domiciled Rich Craven and his mates before hitting the venue about 7.15. Support Black Submarine were already onstage, plying some overpowering shoegazy noise. Maudlin, morbid and morose, and featuring ethereal vocals from their female singer, they seemed intent on creating mood at the expense of tunes. Apparently featuring a couple of members of The Verve, a band I also didn’t like very much, they did little for me – sorry, for me this Black Submarine has sunk under the weight of its’ pretensions…

 

I took a wander forward, stage left, for the main event, The Bunnymen coming on fairly swiftly after the lights had dimmed at 8.25 (10 minutes after their due time – which for them is early!) and the usual Gregorian chanting backing track had kicked in. Easing in with an elegiac new number, an unkempt Mac’s voice initially seemed strained, a gravelly rasp embellishing his higher octave work, which he ascribed to, “a frog in my throat, bear with me…” prior to an unexpected, shimmeringly eerie “Nocturnal Me”. “Rescue” finally kicked the gig into life, Mac asking for the crowd to sing along, and getting his wish; however subsequent newie “Holy Moses” (“it’s a potential classic... tell us in 3 ½ minutes, but I already know,” announced Mac with his usual bluster) sailed uncomfortably close to Simple Minds’ stadium bland-out “(Don’t You) Forget About Me”.

 

Given Mac’s admission of suffering with his throat tonight, we were inclined to cut him some slack; that said, The Voice settled down, only sounding slightly strained at higher levels, nailing the lower octave lines as perfectly and hauntingly as usual. A loose-limbed “Bedbugs And Ballyhoo”, with an extended, Doors-like piano mid-section, was an early highlight, then the “Porcupine”-like wall of noise of “Constantinople” proved the best of the new numbers on display tonight. We also got some Diva-like behaviour from Mac; he took 2 goes to get new number “New Horizons” started, asking a couple of punters to, “shut the fuck up while this is playing!”, then abandoned it altogether, claiming he wasn’t, “feeling it”. The subsequent “All That Jazz” also required 2 starts, but was full of bilious ire and seething drama, Mac’s frustrations channelled perfectly, and easily the best number to that point. A stately “Bring on the Dancing Horses” was also superb, for me even eclipsing the subsequent, slightly understated “Killing Moon”, then Mac introduced “the last song – it’s 3 hours long… minus 2 hours 57…”, a magnificent “Cutter”, the huge crescendo and Mac’s soaring vocals dovetailing perfectly to end the set on a real high.

 

The band returned after the audience sang “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, Mac quipping, “we only came back because you sang that,” then “Nothing Lasts Forever”, which Mac segued in with clips from “Walk on The Wild Side”, “In The Midnight Hour”, and a Brendan Rodgers namecheck (!), drew the performance to a close, Mac by now just about done. A few odd moments, but a million times better than last time out here, for sure…

 

An early one too! This finished just after 9.45, so we repaired to a local bar for an hour of entertaining music and comic chat, also being invaded by a couple of 20 year old girls who proceeded to lead us in rowdy versions of Squeeze’s “Up The Junction” and Joe Jackson’s “Is She Really Going Out With Him”! A surreal end to a fine evening of good music and good company, and a band thankfully doing justice to their legacy tonight, and that’s all I can ask of them.

915 AMERICAN HI-FI, The Hype Theory, London Oxford Street 100 Club, Wednesday 7 May 2014

“And now I can’t wait for the Hi-Fi to come over next year…” That was my closing remark, when the Hi-Fi rhythm section Drew Parsons and Brian Nolan brought their own brand of powerpop dynamism to a scratch Lemonheads line-up, brilliantly backing up Evan Dando at Portsmouth’s gig 834 back in November 2011. Well, despite Drew’s belief that they’d be back over the following year, they made us wait a further 2, totalling 8 ¾ years since they’d last crossed the pond (gig 685, back in October 2005!); not that we’ve been counting or anything! As for what the boys have been up to since then… not much really, vocalist Stacy Jones and guitarist Jamie Arentzen have only been playing in the backing band (Stacy returning to the drum-stool to do so) of the world’s most talked-about pop star Miley Cyrus! Hey, it’s a (very lucrative, I’d imagine) paying gig, playing in arenas and stadiums, so fair play to you, boys!

 

In fact we’ve got Miley to thank for this gig in a roundabout way, as her “Bangerz” tour is currently in the UK, so with a gap between dates, the boys decided to sort a gig of their own! I jumped on tix as soon as they went on sale, before they (eventually) sold out, and Tim and Tracey therefore picked Rach and myself up just after 5 for the usual hit-and-miss run into London. Tim decided to drive all the way in, which initially looked a shrewd shout as we parked up just off Charlotte Street, about a 10 minute walk from the venue. However a chunk of Oxford Street was cordoned off due to an “incident”, necessitating an increasingly frustrating hike around the rabbit warren backstreets behind Oxford Street, eventually arriving at the venue ¾ hour after parking the car! Yikes! So we missed the first support band, and headed to the bar for much needed refreshment while main support The Hype Theory were on. They were terrible – a clumsy, ham-fisted retread of oddly dated sounding millennial Nu-punk, with an overpowering drummer, and a female vocalist berating the crowd’s indifference.

 

Our mood was however lifted by spotting Jamie in the crowd, so I tapped him on the shoulder and we caught up awhile (well, as much as the onstage noise would allow) with one of the nicest, most chilled blokes it’s my pleasure to know. He eventually drifted off to get ready, and we took a spot stage left, spotting a spectating Miley and her entourage in the cordoned-off side-stage area next to us. Come to see what her boys are capable of when they really cut loose with the rock, no doubt…

 

Just after 9.30, the Hi-Fi bounded enthusiastically onstage, as is their wont, Stacy announcing, “we’re American Hi-Fi, we’re a rock’n’roll band from Boston, Massachusetts,” (nice to see that’s not changed!), then burst into the ringing opening riff to “Surround”, the leadoff track to that classic first album, 13 years old and still sounding fresh as a spring waterfall. That was it, the years fell away and I was down the front, finding a surprisingly easy pocket of space in which to rock out throughout, and being acknowledged by Stacy and Drew midway through that first number. A blistering “Scar” followed in short order, then “The Breakup Song” cranked it up an even higher notch, and at this point they were threatening to unmoor this revered venue from its’ foundations!

 

The Hi-Fi were totally on fire tonight: always at their best when tightrope walking right on the ragged edge, often threatening to tumble into chaos but somehow managing to pull it all together, they gave a perfect demonstration of that tonight, kinetic and committed, sawing away at their guitars for all they’re worth. “Hi-Fi Killer” was an incendiary yet tune-laden delight, before Stacy paused for breath, stating, “it’s really special to be playing for you guys tonight,” then announcing new material due in the Autumn with new single “Allison” (“We’re putting it out after this show so you’ll find it on the world wide web”), the turbocharged guitar riffs proving them new apples haven’t fallen far from the Hi-Fi tree of rock.

 

We only got a couple of the new numbers tonight (“they’re harder to play!” lamented Stacy), as the Hi-Fi delved increasingly into their classic debut. Some wag called for “Wrecking Ball”, Stacy retorting with, “I can play drums on that!” before “Another Perfect Day” required a couple of starts (“oh, that’s the wrong chord!”) but was brilliantly anthemic, Stacy introducing Jamie for the perfectly-delivered “All The Young Dudes” middle-8 riff. “Blue Day” was a loose-limbed itchy jump-about fest, Stacy admitting he’d tried to rip off the Charlatans when he wrote this one! This startlingly swift set rushed by in a breathless amphetamine blast of pace, power and

crushing powerpop riffery, drawing towards a conclusion with the inevitable “Flavor Of The Weak”, Stacy warning, “here’s one we’d better not fuck up,” but then totally nailing it, the crowd filling in the middle 8 hook to Stacy’s delight. A roaring, soaring and thoroughly absorbing “Wall Of Sound” ended a magnificent set, the boys not missing a beat overall despite their 8 year absence.

 

Before the encores, a tuning lull gave me an opportunity to congratulate the onstage Stacy on his recent nuptials, drawing a, “well thank you David Rose!” response from the man, and the story of Jamie’s Best Man duties, which prompted a, “Speech! Speech!” chant directed at the bemused guitarist. The encores were amazing, “The Art Of Losing” an all-inclusive call to arms and possibly the best number on show, delivered with a swagger and a grin. Final number “Happy” was preceded by fulsome praise from an effusive Stacy, who’d allegedly never expected this kind of response (“we thought if maybe 30 or 40 people came along that’d be cool…”), and saluted the enthusiastic crowd response at length at the end.

 

That wasn’t it thought – it never is when there’s a Boston band involved! Jamie, lovely guy that he is, dashed backstage to grab me a set-list (a couple of the boys had forgotten to bring theirs on, Stacy needing to refer to Drew’s throughout!), then we had pix and conversations with him and Drew, also meeting Stacy’s lovely bride Kristen and grabbing a quick word with the predictably-besieged frontman before heading off, breathless and totally elated. This was a pain to get to, but totally worth it, a resurrection of sorts for one of the most dynamic and incendiary live acts it’s been my privilege ever to see “live”. Brilliant though The Hold Steady were on Monday, I reckon this even topped that, and might just end up being my Gig of the Year. Yup, there, I said it. And now I can’t wait for the Hi-Fi to come back over again… when the album is out!

914 THE HOLD STEADY, Cheerleader, London Shepherd's Bush Bush Hall, Monday 5th May 2014

Hold Steady set-list signed by the band at their PA at Bristol Rough Trade Records on Thursday 9th March 2023!

“The Kings have returned to reclaim their throne” was how I proclaimed the return of The Hold Steady with their new album “Teeth Dreams” earlier this year; after an uncharacteristic 3 year absence, Minneapolis’ finest and consistently my favourite rock’n’roll band since I first heard the heady rush of their breakthrough album “Boys And Girls In America” back in 2007, are back – and with a vengeance, the lion finding its’ teeth again after a slightly disappointing effort last time out in “Heaven Is Whenever” with a bleeding-raw slab of prime rock’n’roll, a real stunner to match that last album’s 2 predecessors. Coinciding with the record, a short sojourn of small venues was announced, and it seemed I’d not been the only one bemoaning their absence as it pretty much sold out immediately! I jumped on the website when they went on sale, but my efforts were met with “not available… not available… sold out!” In frustration, I phoned the venue, who after some forlorn pleading, kindly put me on a “pay on the door” reserve list. So I was in!

So, after a lovely day at Kasey’s 5^th birthday party, I hit the road just after 5, hitting Bank Holiday traffic on the outskirts of London but still parking up in my usual spot just before 7. Joined the queue after samosa tea, gleefully handing over the £20 entrance fee and entering the ornate dimly pink-lit room early doors, people watching from stage left as it filled up, mainly with blokes! Chatted with a young couple, Silas and Laura, before openers Cheerleader took the small stage at 8.30 prompt. A Philadelphia 5-piece, they played a brand of summery jangle pop which initially was wide-eyed, innocent and insubstantial, sounding cloying and dated. However they toughened up with a couple of more powerpoppy numbers to finish, a chugalong “Perfect Vision” and a very melodic, driving Posies-like “Tomorrow Never Knows”, hinting at greater potential. Write more like these last 2, boys, then we can talk…!

Then suddenly the stage front filled up considerably, and the place felt like the super-quick sell-out that it was. The place felt about to blow, with anticipation palpable, before the highly appropriate entrance music of “We’re Gonna Have A Good Time Together” hit, and the band sauntered onstage for 9.30 to a frenzied reception, mainman Craig Finn striding on enthusiastically and announcing, “I bet you all thought you were going to a Hold Steady gig… but instead you’ve all been invited to our Cinco De Maio party!” They hit the opening bars to “I Hope This Whole Thing Didn’t Frighten You”, the blazing opener to the new album, and the place erupted, a huge moshpit breaking out from note one and staying in situ throughout. And I was right in it – hell yes, I was!

This was one for the books, a raw, ragged, elemental, euphoric distillation of the all-inclusive power of rock’n’roll. “Frighten” was brilliant, then incredibly it got better, a punk rock “Ask Her For Adderal” savage and strident, and “Stuck Between Stations” a euphoric blast. And Craig Finn was everywhere; kinetic, brimfull of nervous energy, fire and verve, exhorting the crowd throughout, constantly repeating lines he’d just sung off-mic, a stupid grin never far from his features, a man in permanent fantasy band camp, his performance was utterly mesmeric. I abandoned myself to the mosh and the moment.

Thankfully there were moments of light and shade in the set, a reverent hush descending for “Almost Everything” (“about being on tour and meeting cool people,” according to Finn) and the later, slow-burn to anthemic chorus of “Ambassador” diffused the mood after the tremendous Thin Lizzy-like snaking riffery “Spinners” (the lyric, “there might be a fight, there might be a miracle” pretty much summing up tonight’s show!). But the rock was aplenty; “Hoodrat Friend” was ragged and frenzied, and a brilliant singalong “Southtown Girls” saw the set out, Finn high-fiving his guitarists as they delivered perfect middle-8 riffs.

Then, incredibly, it got even better… the encore sneaked smoothly in with a hushed “Citrus”, but then roared into the terrace chant “Whoa-oh”s of “Massive Nights”, Finn theatrically pausing to deliver the final line of “when the chaperone said…. we’re gonna build something this Summer!” taking us into the Husker Du-like riffery of the magnificent “Constructive Summer”, the highlight of the night – hell, the highlight of my gig year to date. Brilliant. Another terrace chant “Stay Positive” segued into a languid, libidinous finale of “Killer Parties” and saw the wide-eyed Finn deliver a lengthy thanks, culminating in the statement, “there is so much JOY in what we do up here!” And I get it. I totally do. Grabbed a handshake with new guitarist Steve Selvidge (plus his set-list!) as Finn ended with the totally appropriate, “you, me, all of us.. WE are The Hold Steady!” Damn straight, this was a brilliant, totally all-inclusive demonstration of the connection between band and audience, rock’n’roll at its finest.

I extricated myself from the melee, the suddenly realised exactly how sweaty and battered about I’d become, my condition requiring me to drive out of London shirtless, with the windows down! I’m writing this the following lunchtime and my ears are still ringing. The Kings are back – and how!

 

912 RECORD STORE DAY WITH ADAM ANT AND EDWYN COLLINS, Rough Trade West, London; 913 ADAM ANT, Hammersmith Odeon, London, Saturday 19 April 2014

The Rose Boys’ Big Day Out in Ye Olde London Town! Punk rock icon Adam Ant, surely the comeback king of this decade and one of the finest, most flamboyant, most iconic rock stars we’ve ever produced in this island nation, announced a special one-off performance of his art school punk classic debut album “Dirk Wears White Sox”, so the Budlet and I were all over that. The fact that it fell on Record Store Day opened up all sorts of possibilities for in-store appearance fun and frolics, so I kept my ear to the ground, and when Adam announced a couple of in-stores to promote the RSD special re-release of the very album he’d be playing in its’ entirety that very evening, that pretty much nailed down our plans for the day!

 

My dear lady wife was happy with said plans, so Budlet picked me up just after 10 for a swift drive up to the Smoke, parking up in a sunny Hammersmith and taking an easy tube over to the busy and very pungent – from the various street food vendors – Portobello Market. We arrived midday at Rough Trade’s tiny West store, noting with dismay the huge queue to get in, also noting a couple of speakers set up on the pavement outside. We’d surmised it was to play the in-store performance to the outside crowd, but no – a chat with the store techie confirmed the acts would be playing on the pavement! So there we were and there we stayed!

 

So, we stood behind an Ant fan extended family, including a young girl sat on the pavement in front of us, and 12.30 saw the first act in SLOW CLUB. A two-piece featuring bearded guitarist and blonde vocalist, they played some wispy and pleasant alt-country, recalling Cowboy Junkies. Their best number, “Tears Of Joy” was a bluesy chugalong with nice choral harmonies: the girl can sing, no doubt. She introduced the climax of their short set with, “We’ve got 2 numbers left, then Adam Ant will be here. I never thought I’d say that!”

 

Sure enough, about 1 pm, ADAM ANT arrived, disappearing into the bowels of the shop (“I’ll just have a coffee then I’ll be up!”), then emerging, resplendent in black leather and flat cap, along with a similarly attired cohort. He opened his set with “Cartrouble”, the by now large crowd blocking the road and singing along to this original Ants classic, then into a sleazy acoustic blues run-though of “No Fun”, announcing it with, “without Iggy there’d be no Ants, without Jonathan Richman there’d be no Ants…”. Fulsome and chatty throughout, bantering with the crowd with easy confidence, this was nevertheless a restrained performance, the voice understated, saving some in the tank for tonight. As befitted the subject of the day, “Dirk” songs dominated this set; a cheeky “Cleopatra” (introduced with, “I got into trouble for this one!” and suffixed with a comment to the family in front of us, “I hope you covered [the young girl’s] ears!”), a haunting “Never Trust A Man (With Egg On His Face)”, which benefitted most from the stripped back rendition, then after a rockabilly and T Rex cover interlude, a singalong “Physical”, to round off an exemplary if understated performance, the magic of it simply being that here was Adam Ant, playing guitar on a pavement, barely six feet in front of us!

 

Then he was gone – ushered away by a beefy security man who’d eyed the crowd up throughout, into a waiting black van and off. Fair enough really. We grabbed some lunch in a nearby public garden, then took a walk around the overpriced trinket-fest that is Portobello Market, returning in time for EDWYN COLLINS. Before his arrival, however, I had the pleasure of a quick and entertaining chat with 70’s London punk rock legend Don Letts! A lovely bloke; having noticed him shopping and approached him for a photo, his reply was, “of course mate, I’m surprised anyone still gives a shit!”

We then took a spot on the less crowded pavement for Edwyn, who, aided by a stick, walked slowly out of the shop and took a seat between 2 young guitarists to perform. Victim of a horrendous series of critical illnesses; a couple of brain haemorrhages, bouts of aphasia and MRSA, it’s remarkable the man is still here, let alone feeling the urge to perform. Still bearing the ravages of his illnesses, his speech was slow, halting and deliberate, but amazingly his singing voice was as deep, rich and resonant as ever, with astonishingly precise enunciation. “Falling And Laughing” was a beautiful joy, a playful “Rip it Up” was introduced with, “it’s a single! Back in the day…”, but the newer “Forsooth” (“a new song – like the Velvet Underground… so sorry about Lou Reed…”) was the highlight, a lush “Sunday Morning” lazy wake-up vibe, with the simple but affecting chorus of, “I’m so happy to be alive…”

 

A similarly affecting “Low Expectations” brought another lump to the old throatie, then “Bridge”, the inevitable “A Girl Like You” and an unplanned, bright “Don’t Shilly Shally” rounded off another understated yet amazing performance from a veteran rock icon. This time I managed to sneak a few words with the great man, briefly comparing survivor stories and being simply thrilled, honey, that he’s still here.

This took us to 4 pm, so we took a wander to the tube, bumping past Paloma Faith on the crowded thoroughfare, then tubed it over to Tottenham Court Road so Paul could nose around Tin Pan Alley and I could hit Forbidden Planet. We’d talked about captivating performers on the way, and I’d mentioned the riveting performance I’d witnessed from Savages’ Jehnny Beth recently, so imagine my surprise when I ran into the lovely Ms. Beth in the Planet! Another pic and chat, another highlight of the day.

 

Grabbed a tube back over to Hammersmith for samosa tea, then joined the queue at the Odeon, getting into the large, sloping floored, standing hall early doors. Amazing that this was my first time at the Odeon since the 80’s and my first time downstairs at all! We took a spot on the barriers, extreme stage right, for the supports. Openers Vuvuvultures featured a crop-haired, kinetic and angular female vocalist in suit and red tie, and a nice line in angst-ridden 80’s gloomy post-punk rock which wouldn’t have been out of place on an Editors or White Lies support. Shades also of Flesh For Lulu in some stomping gothy rock moments, and with some nice hooky choral droning, I liked them and I’d check them out again. Definitely a better proposition than main support New Killer Shoes; they showed signs of dirty rock’n’roll promise, but were all too often spoiled by unnecessary rawk posturing, unfounded arrogance and an unwelcome tendency to lapse into ska. After a clumsy cover of The Police’s “So Lonely” which showed their own material into sharp relief, their revealed their best number, a less overt and more considered song which blew the rest of their stuff away. A message to the boys and their cap throwing, hat hair, Robert Carlysle in “Trainspotting” lookalike vocalist; don’t try so hard!

 

By this time the place was heaving (surely a sell-out on the night!) and anticipatory; a false “lights out” start 10 minutes before stage-time simply adding to the anticipation. Sure enough, the place plunged into darkness at 9, and the band took the stage to no fanfare, with Adam still in his Dirk-era leathers, a quickly discarded tricorne hat the only concession at this point to his later “pop” image. Straight into the stripped staccato art school rhythm of “Cartrouble Part 1”, Adam’s yelping vocal style driving this along. As it segued effortlessly into “Cartrouble Part 2”, the place ignited, the band totally nailing it, Adam already the focal point, energetic beyond his years, a real performer at work.

 

The embryonic, confrontational Antmusic of “Dirk” was largely superbly rendered; Adam transposed verses in some of the lesser played numbers, but no biggie. Adam was again fulsome and very chatty advising how the excellent “Day I Met God”, with its’ heady rush towards a soaring, terrace chant chorus, got him, “banned from WH Smiths,” and the giggly smut of “Cleopatra” got him banned from everywhere else! Not that he cared of course; “if you find [“Cleopatra”] prurient or sexist… I don’t care!”

 

“I don’t care” seemed a spoken and unspoken mantra for Adam tonight, he was doing what he liked and damn anyone who doesn’t like it. A rambunctious “Catholic Day” saw him acting out the assassination, with a subsequent comment of, “some people thought that was a sick song, personally I thought the assassination was sick!” The backwards tape loop rhythm of “Animals And Men” was a challenge (“I’m acting cool but I’m thinking – do I have to play this again?”) met with gusto, and a final ”The Idea” was messy but totally potty, the sniggering fun element of the song propelling it above any missed chords.

 

“Dirk” over, Adam bizarrely brought a modesty screen onstage, and changed into his dandy highwayman garb behind it whilst singing “Whip In My Valise”. The second part of the set was subsequently variable for me, a tremendous “Antmusic”, prefixed by another rant in, “I’d rather make the news than take the news!”, and a wonderfully savage “Beat My Guest”  contrasted with throwaway versions of “Wonderful” and a frankly banal “Strip”. However a cacophonous “Kings Of The Wild Frontier” (“every time I sing this, it’s like the first time”), the Burundi drumbeats propelling the song along, was amazing, possibly the best single number tonight, and I piled into the mosh for the subsequent “Zerox”, always my favourite Ants number.

 

Running late, Adam and the band – featuring sterling turns from the first-incarnation Ants rhythm section Leigh Gorman and Dave Barbarossa – ploughed on through the planned encore, finishing a perverse yet overall thrilling and stunning 2+ hour set with “Physical”, then returning simply to take a well-deserved bow. I limped out of the mosh (I paid for that later!) as my brother got me a set-list from the lighting rig and we drove home after a great Rose Boy’s Day Out. Today we’d witnessed excellent performances from a couple of icons again proving age – and illness, in Edwyn Collins’ case – is no barrier to class. Just a perfect day!