934 THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS, Mini Mansions, London Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Tuesday 2 December 2014

My final scheduled gig of a totally satisfactory 2014 is a welcome reunion with those prodigiously talented tunesmiths, The New Pornographers! Since my last sighting, in this very venue (gig 804, a week shy of 4 years ago exactly), I’d done the work I’d implied I needed to do on their back catalogue and found it utterly rewarding, their 3^rd album “Twin Cinema” in particular becoming a regular in-car favourite of mine. Their current album “Brill Bruisers” is again a work of dazzling tunefulness, the only real departure being a hazy sprinkling of 80’s style keyboard and synth to embellish their usual wide and varied chameleonic musical approach and irresistibly brain hugging hooks, so I pounced on tix for this one straight away on the pre-sale. Also, after badgering Rachel for ages to listen to them, she finally crumbled, then realised I’d been speaking truths about their wondrous tuneage, so booked herself a ticket to join me! Yay!

 

So we headed off at 5, stopping for tea at Heston yet still parking up in our usual spot before 7.30, hitting the surprisingly quiet early-doors venue for openers Mini Mansions, on at 7.45. A California trio of bass, synth and a dapper, white suited Paul Simpson lookalike playing drums standing up, they played some 80’s-influenced synth pop with falsetto harmonies overlaid, making them sound very dated (The Bee Gees and Hall And Oates were two comparisons we made!). A dour, plodding cover of “Heart Of Glass” was almost funereal in feel, and not even a subsequent brighter, upbeat original number recalling Our Daughter’s Wedding could rescue them for me. At 45 minutes, they overstayed their welcome considerably, too…

 

We stayed stage centre, down the front, as the place filled up, Rach correctly tipping the band to come on at 9, rather than my website-provided 8.45 schedule. Sure enough, at 9 the 7-strong New Pornographers line-up sauntered onstage, led by strawberry-blond mainman Carl “AC” Newman and bearded, bohemian Dan Bejar, two-thirds of the band’s songwriting triumvirate, with Neko Case being oddly absent tonight. They kicked into the glam stomp and almost orchestral harmonies of opener “Brill Bruisers”, but the sound didn’t do them justice, sounding trebly, echoey and a little thin, almost as if the sound was exclusively coming out of the onstage monitors and bouncing off the stage backdrop. A few numbers in, it had improved to the point that you could actually hear Carl and Dan’s vocals, but remained sub-par throughout. A real shame, this, at this usually pindrop-perfect sounding venue.

 

I however have no doubt that when the New Pornographers sit down to write new material, they hang up “Quiet – Genius At Work!” signs. They all deftly walk a tightrope between producing mature, sophisticated – almost, whisper it, grown-up – songs in various chameleonic musical styles, which nonetheless all possess a vibrant, hooky immediacy which prevents them degenerating into clever-cleverness, instead really making them shine and sparkle. That said, they were hindered with the poor sound tonight, throughout, and then there was the intrigue of Dan… The unkempt, almost Columbo-like Bejar kept disappearing, only returning onstage to add his low, laconic and nuanced vocals to his own material before bowing low each time and taking off again, leaving his partner-in-crime to attempt to explain his absence (“where does he go? I can’t answer that! I think he [goes off and] reads Camus or something…”

 

All that said, they were still never less than excellent tonight, particularly energetic keyboardist Kathryn Calder, who filled in on the absent Case’s vocals and for me was possibly tonight’s MVP. Bejar’s wry vocals on “Myriad Harbour” recalled the NYC cool of Mink DeVille, the wobbleboard carousel ride of “Use It” and the darkly dramatic “War On The East Coast”, with its’ soaring chorus were an early double-whammy, and the jagged “Jackie, Dressed In Cobras” was a mid-set highlight. “Testament To Youth” featured a lovely acapella “bell ringing” middle 8 which was received reverentially by the quiet, studious crowd, and set closer “Mass Romantic” saw a mini mosh break out to its’ galloping, off-kilter joyride.

 

However, they saved the best until last; an utterly superb encore of “Spanish Techno” was topped by “The Bleeding Heart Show”, building from almost murder-ballad hush, through sinister flamenco, then to a galloping crescendo layered with harmonies. Brilliant, and a perfect punctuation point on a splendid set.

 

The home journey was a stinker, however, with Junction 2 of the M4 being shut, necessitating a painfully slow crawl through Brentford and a diversion around Heathrow, culminating in a home arrival at a red-eyed ¼ to 1. Yikes! Nonetheless, a thoroughly enjoyable evening despite a couple of bumps in the road, in good company both with my Rachey, and with The New Pornographers!

933 2:54, LSA, Follow The Sun, Bristol Louisiana, Tuesday 25 November 2014

I should really know better than to tip bands to go on to greater things by now, shouldn’t I? Having previously gleefully declared that the likes of Lush and Glasvegas were going to be “huge huge huge!” – and that really didn’t work out for either of those, did it? – I also said, after seeing promising ethereal dreampop pipistrelles 2:54 at my old 80’s tiny bolt-hole, Oxford’s Jericho Tavern, a couple of years ago, that I had a feeling the next time I saw them would be in a much bigger venue. Hmmm, I thought, 2 years on, as I booked tickets for tonight’s gig at, erm, tiny Bristol bolt-hole The Louisiana, bigmouth strikes again!

 

I also picked up their new CD, “The Other I”, but despite it generating a similar mood of wistful melancholy as their eponymous debut, I found it a bit, well, samey really, overall no real development or progression to their sound, a couple of numbers (notably the excellent “Crest”) notwithstanding. Nevertheless, one hopes that as at the Jericho, the band could rise above their lack of obvious tuneage “live”. We’ll see… So, I set off after 7 for a run down an increasingly rainy M4, rather stupidly over-shooting my turn in the centre of Bristol, but eventually finding a lucky parking spot directly outside the venue, nonetheless getting soaked while I got the ticket. D’oh! Dried off in the downstairs bar while watching the first half of the Man City Champion’s League game, then took a wander upstairs for opener Follow The Sun. Wished I hadn’t, as he was (again) “playing” low budget nature documentary theme tune bollocks through his tape loop machine whilst sitting there looking gormless. I hate these so-called “musicians” who do this… hate ‘em!

 

I was therefore more kindly disposed to main support LSA – at least they were a proper band! – and honestly they were much more the ticket. A gang of four black and red clad youths playing some generic but spritely and upbeat glam/indie guitar pop, with their third number displaying some shimmering shoegaze fretwork, and their best number, “Where’s The Time Gone” (?) showing some widescreen stadium rock tendencies. Set closer “Honest Man” spewed out impressive garage rock venom, closing a nice support set from a confident young band clearly still looking for their own identity. It’ll be interesting to see how they end up…

 

Back into the now-busy upstairs room for the main act; I took a spot near the front as 2:54, after a soundcheck and brief departure from the stage, re-appeared at 10, the 4-piece band led by sisters Collette and Hannah Thurlow and backed up by 2 beefy blokes. Opener “South” kicked off proceedings, the girls slowly swaying and rocking in time with this moody opener. An early “Scarlet” segued splendidly into the excellent, creepy “Sugar”, and a subsequent bouncy “Crest”, easily their best new number, was also head and shoulders above anything else tonight, a sweeping chorus featuring some almost early U2-like intricate guitar riffery from Hannah, and some pounding drums from the impressive, hard-hitting sticksman.

 

That, however, was as good as it got. All too often there was little variation in the otherwise patchy material, and it merged into one, relying too much on evoking a gloomy, melancholy mood and atmosphere, and on Collette’s strident atonal vocals. Like one of their obvious antecedents, 90’s pseudo Goth/electronica band Curve, they’ve got a couple of really good numbers right now, then there’s a big gap, then there’s the rest… The chorus line to new number “Blindfold” uncomfortably resembled Adamski’s “Killer” (covered by them last time out), and I confess my mood wasn’t helped by ubiquitous (and large) scenester Jeff turning up midway through and barging right to the front, necessitating a shift around just so that I could see! Appreciate your enthusiasm Jeff, but you make a lousy window…

 

“Orion” concluded a lengthy-feeling 45 minute set, prior to which Collette thanked everybody for coming, stating, “it’s been a long road back”. Perhaps they should have made a couple of more stops along said road to write more songs and develop their sound further, I thought as I swiftly exited the venue (no set-list tonight, so my recent run stops at 20, but after this show I wasn’t that bothered) and made my way home, a wretched journey down a sodden M4. Sorry girls, but I’m afraid that on the strength of tonight and the current album, 2:54 have been well and truly eclipsed in the doomy goth girl-pop stakes by the likes of Savages, and I’ve got the feeling the next time I see them – and there will be a next time, I’m not giving up on this still-promising band that easily – it’ll be in exactly the same size of venue as tonight…

932 MERCHANDISE, Shopping, Idles, Bristol Start The Bus, Thursday 20 November 2014

A new gig location for me, this, and a familiar band with possibly a slight departure to their previous sound. Merchandise, last year’s Reading Festival best newcomers and hosts of a fine Jericho Tavern show last Autumn, announced another small venue tour to promote delicious new album “After The End”, a record which, despite retaining their blueprint moody, textured and sample-layered sound, sees them moving away from the freeform structure and stretched Krautrock templates of their previous efforts. There are discernable choruses! Verses! Hooks aplenty! A move to generally more “conventional” song structures, with vocalist Carson Cox having declared in advance of the album, “we’re going to remake ourselves as a pop band,” how would this play out “live”? One way to find out…

 

So I hit the road fairly early, expecting lots of Christmas shopping traffic around Bristol’s Cabot Circus and oddly finding none, therefore parking up and hitting this central venue around 8. A small pub side area/room, not much bigger than the Louisiana (so, then… small!) cordoned off from the main bar with a bit of black material (but well within earshot of the bar), with steps down to a small dancefloor, and a wooden-clad corner stage which gave the impression the bands were playing in someone’s garden shed! Not enough room onstage for 2 drumkits so local openers Idles played on the floor. They were terrible; an unrehearsed, half-formed, half-baked mess of clumsy shouty pseudo-allegedly “punk” bollocks. The vocalist introduced most numbers with, “this is called [song x], and it’s about [ subject y]… only joking…” (?), and their only redeeming feature was some nice Editors-like ringing fretwork from the guitarist, who could obviously play a bit, so he’s clearly wasting his time there… Main tour support Shopping, on about 9.30, were more palatable; seemingly mining the middle ground between The Slits, early B52s and Talulah Gosh (!), they had a pronounced DIY ethic and a sound consisting of militaristic drumbeats, occasionally dubby rhythmic base, intricate mutant single-note guitar picking and minimal yelping vocals passed liberally around the 3 band members. Interesting stuff, but I couldn’t eat a whole one…

 

Between the 2 supports, I’d stopped a lurking Carson Cox for a quick chat, and had my ear talked off by this most gregarious and open frontman; he allegedly remembered me from Oxford, and we chatted about Florida, the state of rock’n’ roll and his future plans for the band (“it was only meant as a side-project!” Yeah, right…). I was subsequently even more up for this one, and took my place down the front as the band set up for their late-starting set, about 20 past 10. After locating their drummer (Cox quipping, “anyone want to play drums for us tonight?”) we were on our way with big, strident opener “Enemy”, the chiming, driving rhythm being overlaid by Cox’s deep, deliciously resonant vocals, and the subsequent “In Nightmare Room”, all louche and languid, prompting me to shake my ageing booty down the front, and prompting Cox to remark, “thanks for dancing!” Hell, that was enough to keep me dancing throughout!

 

Shorn of the samples and effects which add depth and texture to their studio output, Merchandise “live” were a full-on rock’n’roll treat, and Carson Cox was a brilliant, riveting frontman, mobile and angular, with oddball, slightly flaky charisma to throw away. “Little Killer” was an early, superb highlight, the chugging rhythm very reminiscent of The Smiths’ classic “The Headmaster Ritual”, and the hook dark and dramatic, then a slower “Beginning” (“for the disco ball!”) nonetheless morphed into a Doors-like psych-rock wig-out, and “Green Lady” thereafter was a real treat, soaring and imperious with a dramatic finale.

 

But it was the penultimate “Anxiety’s Door” which was tonight’s highlight; this lengthy Krautrock workout positively rocked, bristling with venom and purpose, and Cox’s frontman performance was committed, riveting and outstanding, jumping in and out of the crowd, teasing, tempting, loving this moment, not wanting it to end. And neither did we. Brilliant stuff from a real band with boundless potential.

 

Guitarist Dave Vassalotti handed me the setlist (“sure thing!”) and I hung out afterwards, catching my breath, chatting with the band, getting the list signed and buying a t-shirt (Merchandise merchandise!) before eventually heading home with Carson Cox’s thanks and compliments ringing in my ears, home for 12.30, late for a Bristol gig. Aching limbs the next day, but Merchandise were totally worth it!

931 BOB MOULD, Young Knives, Bristol Fleece, Monday 17 November 2014

And now for something completely noisy…! The US alternative rock legend that is Bob Mould, mastermind behind 2 of the finest and fiercest bands of the 80’s/ 90’s in Husker Du and Sugar, and compiler of a breathtakingly impressive body of work in his own right (including 1989’s “Workbook”, still one of my all-time Top Ten albums), playing the noisy rock music at The Fleece! Over the last couple of years, after a dalliance with electronic-tinged stuff, he appears to have rediscovered his alt-rock/ popcore mojo again, with an impressive 2012 release “Silver Age” (parts of which he premiered when we last saw him, after the “Copper Blue” run through of gig 848, a couple of Summers ago) being followed by an even better one in this year’s “Beauty And Ruin”. So I snapped up tickets pronto, disappointed that no-one else felt the need to have their ears sandblasted with some sheet metal rock’n’roll noise, thereby resolving to go on my own!

 

A bit of pre-gig research (I love setlist.fm!) indicated Bob would be playing a smattering of Husker Du numbers straight out of the blocks, so I made sure of an early departure, to ensure avoiding traffic chaos in the 24-hour jam that Swindon has suddenly turned into, and also to arrive in time to buy an old friend a beer. It worked in one way; I duly joined the queue for doors at 7.30, but the old friend didn‘t show! Luckily (?), this was an early scheduled show, so I didn’t have long to wait for openers Young Knives, on at 8. However, I just flat out didn’t like them; I should have, given some dark, driving rock from this eclectic-looking trio, but their tunes were smothered not only in echoey reverb but also pompous nonsense and a feeling of unentitled self-importance. Clearly a band who take themselves waaay too seriously (viz. the keyboardist being called The House Of Lords!), their best moment was when the singer donned a set of makeshift batwings (which actually looked like umbrellas!) during their final number!

 

From the ridiculous to the utterly sublime; despite this being a sell-out, I found a clear space, stage left, actually leaning against the monitors, for Bob’s entrance just before 9. He followed his band (bassist Jason Narducy and drummer Jon Wurster) onstage to a rapturous reception, then kicked into a formidable opening triad of 3 Husker Du numbers, “Flip Your Wig”, an incredible “Hate Paper Doll” and “I Apologise” with ferocious intensity. Holy shit, that’s the way to start a set, no mistake!

 

So that was me, rocking down the front as much as my knees would allow and occasionally bolting in my earplugs to give my eardrums some respite from the almost palpable noise. This was as uncompromising, relentless and powerful a set as I’d been subjected to for many a moon; after a few remarks about tribute bands (“so anyway, we’re Hugh-sker Du!”), Bob launched into a selection from the current “Beauty And Ruin”, the highlight being the phenomenal “I Don’t Know You Anymore”, as irresistibly catchy a number as he’s produced since “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” (which also appeared later on in the set!). Bob was imperious, his low, resonant growl rising above the guitar assault, as Jason wrestled his low-slung bass like Dee Dee Ramone, and Jon hammered the beat with thrilling kinetic Caldes-like energy. The slow-burn denouement to excellent newie “The War” segued into Husker Du classic “Hardly Getting Over It”, providing some respite but delivered almost power-ballad like, sprawling and epic. Then it was back onto the sheet metal noise onslaught, with a soaring “Helpless”, and a later, almost singalong “Hoover Dam” from Sugar’s back catalogue. The embryonic post-hardcore of “In A Free Land” closed an amphetamine-fast set of 21 songs in a breathtakingly swift hour, after which encores of the irresistibly melodic “Makes No Sense At All” and a cover of Sonny Curtis’ “Love Is All Around” (no, not that one…) punctuated the set, at which point Bob took centre stage to bathe in the applause, leaving to lengthy and unrequited encore calls.

As good was to come afterwards though; I needed some time to catch my breath so hung back near the backstage entrance awhile, and my patience was rewarded as I met Bob and the band to get my setlist (handed to me at the set’s climax by Jason, whose monitor I‘d been pounding on throughout, as a thank you “for rocking out!”) signed, and a pic, handshake and a few quick words with the great (and very humble) man, one of my all-time rock icons. “Thanks for your support through the years,” he remarked, my response being, “keep coming back and I’ll keep coming to see you!” My ears are still ringing. Wow. Just…. wow.

930 THE WAR ON DRUGS, Steve Gunn, Bristol O2 Academy, Thursday 6 November 2014

I’m continuing my Autumn Dance Card “deep dive” through what appears to be the best American Alternative rock has to offer right now (Hold Steady, Real Estate, SoSo Glos in the books, with Bob Mould, Merchandise and the New Pornographers yet to come) by giving this lot another chance! My last outing with War On Drugs, 18 months ago, was a bit of a clunker, their intriguing metronomic Krautrock/ Americana mixture being submerged under swathes of indistinct noise by the Thekla’s sound system. Truth to tell, I probably wouldn’t have bothered, however WOD’s current album “Lost In The Dream” is a lovely listen; an aptly-named immersive, melancholy drift through hazy, half-lit smoky rooms bathed in early morning sunlight through latticed windows. It manages a rare feat of being intriguingly hypnotic and mesmerising, whilst at the same time evoking Don Henley’s 80’s cheeseball anthem “The Boys Of Summer”. Weird! Anyway, one hopes that the much better O2 sound system wouldn’t muck this up. We hope…

 

So, an early departure thanks to drizzly weather and traffic chaos in Swindon still meant I parked up at 7.30. However this was unfortunately well in time to join the early-comers for support Steve Gunn and his 2 back-up boys, on at 8. He kicked off with an interminably long – over 10 minutes! – opener which started pleasantly enough but then descended into Jethro Tull sludgy prog noodling. At its’ (eventual) conclusion I turned to a fellow punter and suggested, “I’m half expecting him to say now, “this is our last song”!”. Thankfully the rest of his set was a little better, tending towards forgettable strumalong alt-Americana with the odd unfortunate prog detour. However the best part of his set for me was when he introduced, “my brother Tommy on bass…” wait, what? His brother’s called Tommy Gunn?!?

 

After a loo break, I wormed my way back through an utterly heaving floor to an air pocket, stage left, in front of the speakers. Some shuddering pre-set feedback made me wonder whether they were trying to find the brown note (!), then War On Drugs frontman Adam Granduciel demonstrated control freak tendencies by coming onstage to lay out his own cables and pedals. You’ve got roadies for that, mate! Anyway, Adam then led the 6-piece band on to zero fanfare; they plugged in and kicked off the synth pulse and heavy guitar reverb of intriguing opener “Burning”, the sound already a quantum leap better than last time out. Hooray!

 

This was a fine, varied set of their melange of guitar-driven Americana, often evoking the strumalong heartland travelogues of early REM, and Stereolab/ Krautrock synth overlays. A lot of light and shade, with slower, more considered numbers mixed in, although I liked their sound better when it was off on a gallop. “The last couple of times we played [Bristol] we were on the motherfuckng boat! It’s nice to be off the Thekla!” announced Adam before the languid, absorbing “Under The Pressure”, then following the audience reaction, recanted somewhat; “oh, you like it? It’s better than here? OK, long live the Thekla!”

 

The excellent, upbeat “Ocean Between The Waves”, featuring a hard-edged, soaring climax almost recalling early U2, was a mid-set highlight, before a thoroughly noisy number (“Best Night”?), which was a little jarring, featuring swathes of everything (synth, brass, the whole darn kitchen sink!), but was thankfully followed by a quieter “Buenos Aires”. The subsequent, penultimate “Red Eyes”, however, was a thrilling, locomotive joyride and the best thing on the menu tonight. Adam was the pivotal point throughout; clearly in charge here, his detached, nasal tones, which recalled a hazy, lazy Bob Dylan (!), sprinkled over the music like desert sand, whilst his guitar provided the main thrust and propulsion.

 

“Baby Missiles” was the highlight of the encore, another breathless synth/strumalong collision, before the tender Laurel Canyon ballad of “Suffering”, the best of the slower numbers on show tonight, along with more compliments for the Thekla (!) and for tonight’s sell-out, totally engaged crowd, drew a 1 ½ hour performance to a close. Always fine, one jarring mid-set number notwithstanding, and at its’ best at full-on rhythm and jangle, this was a million times better than last time out, and a record-breaking set-list (my 18^th in a row!) was the icing on the cake. I’m glad I gave War On Drugs another chance!

929 REAL ESTATE, Alvvays, London Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Wednesday 29th October 2014

I’ve got John Strohm to thank for Real Estate. Strohm, one of my all-time Boston rock axe heroes and, I’m honoured to say, a Facebook friend thanks to our paths crossing a smattering of times in the 90’s when I saw him perform in 3 different bands (none of which, I’m sad to say, being the seminal Blake Babies), eulogised about this young US Indie band on his facebook feed. Given that one of his other recommendations was as a guest reviewer in Melody Maker in the 90’s, during his tenure as guitarist for The Lemonheads, when he gave the excellent Fountains Of Wayne’s debut “Radiation Vibe” his Single Of The Week, I was inclined to check them out! So I did, and found in their current, 3^rd, album “Atlas” a lush, laid-back and lovely collection of tunes, interwoven with smooth, laconic melody and harmonics. A mellower version of early Death Cab For Cutie, perhaps… either way, another US alt-rock band brimming with promise, so I booked a ticket for this one fairly promptly.

On half-term kid duty, I left at 5.30 after Rach got home and the house was tidy (!), but then had an utterly horrendous journey with heavy weather traffic throughout, delaying my arrival until just after 8! Yikes! So I unfortunately hit the venue a couple of numbers into support band Alvvays, and immediately cursed the traffic, as here was a band well worth catching. A Canadian 5-piece, they impressed with some spritely, bright pop tunes; “Atop A Cake”, with its’ flippant “what’s it got to do with you” hook, was a Popguns-like blast, delivered by Molly Rankin, their dynamic female vocalist, in vocal tones a clear octave lower than her Minnie Mouse speaking voice! “We’re from a part of Canada where no-one ever goes unless they want to revisit “Anne Of Green Gables”, Minnie, sorry, Molly lamented before “Adult Diversion”, the highlight of the set, featuring an excellent layered guitar climax. Overall, this was a beautifully judged mix of bittersweet melancholy and Summer bounce with a definite fanzine/ C86 edge, the guitarist’s Breton shirt more evidence of this. Damn fine start!

I took a wander but returned to my usual stage right spot here, a couple of rows from the front, as Seal’s “Kiss From A Rose” provided an unorthodox musical backdrop for Real Estate’s entrance at 9 to a reserved but enthusiastic welcome. They eased into the intricate guitar riff of opener, the low-key, pastoral “To Hear You”, which immediately set the tone for the performance. The sound was perfect, lush and resonant, and the band’s performance was winsome, polite, understated, often quite quiet, yet clearly very accomplished. They were not here to rawk’n’roll, more to weave a tapestry of sound, Martin Courtney’s gossamer-like vocals adding to the fragile, atmospheric opening to the set.

“What a beautiful location!” announced bassist and main cheerleader Alex Bleeker; indeed, the band seemed a little overwhelmed by this, apparently the biggest gig they’d ever headlined, and repeatedly praised the crowd and venue. 5^th number in, “Atlas”’ groovy instrumental “April’s Song”, was an early highlight, then “Fake Blues”, a melancholy, almost devotional short little hymn sung by Bleeker, was a nice segue into their best number, “Talking Backwards”, with its’ Toytown guitar riff recalling the old “Chigley” theme tune for this old guy! “It’s Real”’s soaring “whoa-oh” chorus was as rock as this band got, then the stretched chiming, repetitive riff of penultimate set number “All The Same” was an absorbing way to finish the set. Which, perversely, they didn’t, slipping in another one before ending a lengthy-feeling 1 hour 15 set.

Before the encore, the band chugged Smirnoff Ice whilst the audience sang “Happy Birthday” to Alvvays’ drummer Phil; a bit of a mistake as Courtney’s reaction was, “that was disgusting!” Encore “Past Lives” ensured the band left us as they’d arrived, with a whisper rather than a scream, although I was then annoyed that the keyboardist threw the sole set-lists into the crowd whilst exiting the stage. Bah! So, I scrounged a pic from the mixing desk then hit the road, taking half the time to drive home as I took to get here. Cripes! Overall impressions; a real contrast in the bands’ performances, with Real Estate as understated and undynamic as their support had been upbeat and bouncy. I’ll certainly check out Alvvays again, hopefully in a small venue, and I liked Real Estate, sure, but I’m not so sure I’d endure another journey like that to see them. Still, a fine, melodic band nonetheless, so thanks again to John Strohm for the recommendation!

928 THE HOLD STEADY, THE SO SO GLOS, Birmingham O2 Academy 2, Monday 13 October 2014

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

Off once again to see The Hold Steady, possibly my favourite band over the last 7 or 8 years and for me the band that, above all others, currently encapsulates my love for this many-splendored thing called rock’n’roll. It’s a lengthy jaunt up to B’rum tonight, as their Bristol gig next week in support of tremendous new album “Teeth Dreams”, likely my favourite of 2014, coincides with our family break in Butlins! Still, after the form they displayed at their Bush Hall gig back in May, I’d go to the ends of the Earth to see them, so Birmingham is just a quick drive up the road in comparison! If further incentive be needed (hah!), support is provided by The So So Glos, probably my favourite new band discovery of this year, a raucous, terrace chant anthemic punk rock rabble also known for instigating the “Shea Stadium” venue and recording space regularly haunted by the likes of the Mighty Titus Andronicus.

 

A real potential double whammy in prospect, so nothing’s standing in the way of this one for me! I duly drove into work and set off directly at my Monday afternoon 3.30 finishing time (usually to fetch the kids but tonight to fetch the rock!), purposefully hitting a sodden road oop North, and arriving at the venue after a wet old journey 20 minutes before doors. A filthy night, this; even the touts stayed in their cars and shouted, “got any spare? Buy or sell,” at passers-by! I was second in at just after 7 (the venue not being prepared to throw us damp early-comers a bone and open up early), hitting this upstairs venue resembling the Oxford Zodiac room in both size and orientation, thence sitting and watching the place slowly fill up.

 

A poor turnout early doors – it was barely 1/3 full by 8, so I got a spot on the barriers, stage left, quite easily for the So So Glos’ entrance. This young Brooklyn 4-piece took the stage, and the stage stayed well and truly took! Storming into the strident, ballsy opener “Son Of An American”, a swaggering statement of intent, they were dynamic, kinetic, intense and committed from the outset, playing their powerful, upbeat punk rock with a raucous, carefree attitude. Surprisingly more punchy, powerful and together “live” in comparison to their nevertheless excellent album “Blowout”, which often feels like Black Flag’s seminal “TV Party” times 10 and consequently on the verge of collapse at any moment, they nonetheless surfed constantly on the ragged edge, delivering a thrilling set. “This song’s about Xanax, America’s legal drug dealers!” announced wide-eyed vocalist Alex for third number, the breathless “Xanax”. That’s punk attitude for you! “Wrecking Ball” featured some in-your-face rap call-and-response vocals and a crushing terrace chant hook, whilst “Speakeasy” recalled early Hot Hot Heat with its’ yelping vocals and bass-powered rhythm. However the penultimate number “Everything Revival” was the highlight; unplanned but shouted for by (and subsequently dedicated to!) me, this was utterly magnificent, a joyous punk rock romp with a soaring singalong hook, which I shouted raucously from my front row spot. Great stuff!

 

Follow that, gents! The place finally filled up but was by no means full, as I kept my barrier spot and chatted with some fellow front row punters, before The Velvet Underground’s “We’re Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together” heralded the entrance of The Hold Steady, just after 9. “Like the man said, we’re gonna have a good time together!” announced effusive frontman Craig Finn as the band raced headlong into the careering, Ramones-like opener “Ask Her For Adderall”. And we were away on another Hold Steady thrill ride, Finn as ever everywhere, exhorting the crowd, repeating lines off-mic, and generally revelling in the sheer unalloyed delight at being the singer in a rock’n’roll band. “I Hope This Whole Thing Didn’t Frighten You” and the brilliant swaggering blues of “Sequestered In Memphis” were similar early highlights, Finn again sarcastically emphasising the line, “I went there on business..”

 

“Truth is a squirrelly concept in rock and roll… one thing is true, you CAN make him like you!” announced Finn by introduction to that number; indeed the frontman was on verbal overload tonight, his endless yet entertaining between-song banter matching the articulate verbiage overload of his lyrics. One such soliloquy started with, “I think we’re a pretty good bar band,” and ended with a headlong tumble into the roaring “Constructive Summer”, whilst the next kicked off with, “this is important, so humour me,” went off on a tangent into a debate on the development of the Internet (!), finally returning with, “my point being… there are SO many ways you could be spending your Monday night, yet you’re all here!”

 

The subsequent “Spinners” (“about going out”) was the set highlight, ebullient, all inclusive and joyfully rendered by the enthusiastic Finn and a band totally on top of their game. Occasionally muddy sound couldn’t spoil the fun tonight, as I again abandoned myself to the moment and bounced along throughout, singing myself hoarse and ignoring the inevitable sore knees the next day. Some light and shade too – “Ambassador” diffused the mood before Tad Kubler delivered the plangent opening riff to the inevitable “Stuck Between Stations”. A Motown-esque “What A Resurrection Feels Like” segued into a singalong “Walk On By”, to close a breathless set.

 

We got another soliloquy from Finn, a man after my own heart, who also believes in cutting a short story long, during the encores, then a ragged, none-more appropriate “Stay Positive” ended a brilliant 1 hour 40 performance. Gathered my thoughts, chatted and hung awhile with the Merch stand-bound So So Glos, then hit an utterly awash A38 out of Birmingham and a less sodden M5 home, catching my breath. Tonight The Hold Steady were again utterly imperious, and cemented their reputation as, for me, the finest purveyors of rock music right now. But spare a thought for The So So Glos; tonight 4 Brooklyn upstarts went toe to toe with the best band on Planet Earth and emerged with flying colours. So as I said, a real double whammy!