1,000 ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN, The Probes, Oxford O2 Academy, Wednesday 31st August 2016

The big milestone of gig No. 1,000 is reached! And it seemed only fitting that the hosts of this monumental occasion were to be Echo And The Bunnymen, hosts of my gig No. 2 back in December 1981 in this very town, and my first real rock obsession as my late-teen musical tastes morphed from formulaic punk rock to the more emotive and individual post-punk early 80’s slew of bands, this movement being encapsulated by my love for the drama, epic sweeping majesty and glacial cool of The Bunnymen, the band who were to become my “home team”, the band against which, subconsciously or not, all others have been measured (and most found wanting…). Tonight also represented the 15^th time of asking overall for The Bunnymen, and it also only seemed fitting that joining me for tonight, following a bit of last-minute grandma sleepover jiggery pokery, is my dear lady wife Rachel, for our own 376^th gig together!

After dropping the kids off, we traversed a sunny beat route to Oxford, parking after a short wait in the busy Tesco car park, then popping in the Bullingdon for a facility usage, which actually proved unnecessary; the huge queue we’d spotted outside the O2 was in fact for the upstairs Sticky Fingers gig, and we walked straight in to the early-doors deserted downstairs venue! A short wait then for support The Probes, on at 8; a painfully young looking quartet in a trippy psych-pop headspace, their hazy, summery La’s/ Byrds opener segued into a faster, metronomic 60’s B Movie car chase instrumental which undulated and meandered but ultimately wore on the patience somewhat throughout its’ prodigious length. This set the tone for their set; each song (or part-song) melded into the next, with an occasional rhythmic bar or vignette which was pleasant enough, but they’d then stretch it out ad nauseum, mistaking interminable repetition for absorbing rhythm. They eventually closed out their 40 minute set, during which they might have played 3 songs, might have played 9, or any number in between… who knows?

An entertaining chat with an old Bunnyfan with tinnitus (“who were they? The Probes? I’d rather be anally probed than listen to that lot again!”), before we took a wander down the front, stage right as the place filled up good and proper. Sparse early doors, but it was old school hot and heaving just before showtime… which surprisingly came exactly as scheduled at 9.15, the usual Gregorian chanting heralding The Bunnymen onstage in short order. And in no mood to fuck about; straight into opener “Going Up”, the eerie opening building to a crescendo before Mac’s voice chimed in, immediately sounding good, clear, decisive even! “Thanks for coming, Oxford – we like it here!” announced The Voice, before a surprising fan favourite “Heads Will Roll”, Mac gunning for the high notes in the chorus with vim and determination. On it tonight!

Thus was the case; The Bunnymen were simply brilliant tonight, possibly as good as I’ve seen them since their reunion, the band musically tough and tight, with Will’s intricate guitar play weaving a haunting and evocative spell… and then we had Mac…! Let’s face it, Echo And The Bunnymen stand and fall these days on whether vocalist and Head Bunny Ian McCulloch is up for it, and tonight I’m happy to report he was on top form, totally engaged in the performance, in playful, flippant mood in his banter and exchanges with the audience (myself included – more on that later!), and the voice, whilst a little rasping and inevitably lacking some of the soaring top-end of his youthful pomp, sounded excellent, doing full justice to those soaring choruses when required. The strident strobe and drumbeat drama of “All That Jazz” led into the Velvet Underground-esque monotone rhythm of deliciously obscure “B” side “Angels And Devils”, and the subsequent “Do It Clean” was superb, massive and epic, Mac smuggling in a “Sex Machine” vignette.

“Are you all from Oxford?” Mac asked, and I, from my now centre stage spot, couldn’t resist shouting out, “Swindon!” to which the great man retorted, “Swindon? Aye, I’ve been there… well, to the outskirts…!” A couple of mid-set ballads (including “In The Margins”, which elicited a comment of “what’s next? Bloody ‘ell, not done this one in ages,” from Mac) slowed the pace and enabled us to catch our breath, as the packed room was by now uncomfortably hot and sweaty, Mac responding to a punter’s request by ordering, “turn the fans on, you dozy bastards!” As he spake, so shall it be, the joyous subsequent singalong for “Rescue” being accompanied by a welcome blast of cool air, and by Mac’s one-note guitar riffery, to a friendly ribbing from this knowledgeable crowd.

An eerie, Doors-like organ embellished a creepy-crawly “Bedbugs And Ballyhoo”, before a singalong “Seven Seas” prompted Mac to remark, “I tell [audiences] to shut up normally but you sound good!” then warning us, “don’t overdo it – my brother went to Cambridge, it’s miles better than this place!” before conducting the singalong to “Bring On The Dancing Horses”. A reverential hush however greeted “The Killing Moon”, introduced by Mac as, “I think… the greatest song ever written,” the stripped back, haunting and hushed rendition accentuating a sublime vocal reading and almost – almost! – living up to the hype.

The soaring, epic chorus of “Lips Like Sugar” rounded off a quite majestic performance, bookended by encores of a stately “Nothing Lasts Forever”, featuring some lyrical diversions, including a Lou Reed tribute (“take a walk of the wild side, take a walk on Merseyside…”), before a quite brilliant “Cutter” ended proceedings, the galloping, all-encompassing soaring climax a fitting end to a wonderful, almost flawless set. Despite my love and devotion for The Bunnymen down the years (or maybe because of it), they’ve had the capacity to crush and disappoint in the recent past, so their presence as hosts of this landmark gig felt a little risky. However, as I grabbed a set-list after a lengthy wait and discussed it with Rachel (whose immediate, more subjective, reaction was that they were, “excellent”), I felt completely vindicated. A superb performance from a tight, taut band, and a consummate frontman showing from Mac, conducting band and crowd alike and delivering a magnificent and (dare I say it) even fun gig. An utterly fitting way to celebrate the milestone gig no. 1,000!

999 THE DICKIES, Ashley Reaks, Bristol Fleece, Saturday 6th August 2016

This was always going to be a bit of a mad one; The Dickies, veteran Californian cartoon punk rockers and demolishers of unsuspecting rock’n’roll standards, back on my gig itinerary for the first time since that chaotically brilliant Damned support slot, back in December 2012 (gig 867)… However, the crazy factor took an unexpected – and some might say unwelcome – sideways turn with the announcement that vocalist Leonard Graves Phillips had been hospitalised a couple of days prior to the gig. A band facebook announcement revealed that in true punk rock fashion, the band were soldiering on, with a plethora of guest vocalists being arranged “on the fly” to backfill for their absent leader. There was therefore no question of my not attending, but I wondered… given that the hyperactive, helium voiced, manically gabbling Leonard, plus his selection of props, puppets and toys, is such an intrinsic part of The Dickies “live” experience, how would they fare without him? Would this be either a glorious and chaotic triumph, or a disjointed punk rock karaoke disaster?

With anticipation/ trepidation, I set off and parked up just before 8, wandering into the very quiet early doors venue, being handed a note regarding Leonard’s absence on the way in. Saw guitarist and fellow original member Stan Lee walking around the venue making lists and allocating potential singers to tracks, so I enquired about Leonard, then was asked by the Scottish merch guy if I can sing! Graciously declined the “opportunity”, but chatted with him about tonight’s plans; they’re still working them up! As the place filled up, we were subjected to the support slot stylings of soloist Ashley Reaks and his accompanied “art”, consisting of provocative sexual imagery which for me reaked (sic) of deliberate and slightly puerile 6^th form style shock tactics. A couple of early beatbox samba driven numbers were equally poor and potty mouthed, but then Reaks played a pretty passable Billy Bragg-styled punk rock track from his “Planet Grot” album, followed by a decent reading of The Cure’s classic creepy goth track “A Forest”! Hmmm…

Took a wander down the front as The Dickies (well, the 4 remaining members, anyway) set up, then gave the thumbs up to start the set at 10 past 9, Stan announcing, “help us out, you guys!” before leading the band into the anthemic fanfare of instrumental opener “Rondo (The Midget’s Revenge)”. Hefty bassist Eddie then filled us in; Leonard’s in hospital in Luton, some kidney problem, complications but not life threatening, but he wanted the tour to continue – “it’s all about the music, it’s all about you guys!” So on came the first “guest” vocalist; Ian the merch guy I’d been chatting to earlier, done up as “Where’s Wally”, and with a fun manic pogoing stage presence to make up for his inevitable vocal shortfall. Nonetheless, he did a sterling job, powering through amphetamine-fast and ridiculously hooky and singalong US punk rock classics such as “Fan Mail”, a superb “Nights In White Satin” and a frenzied “Waterslide”, powered throughout by the gnats-chuff-tight rhythm section of the dickie-bowed drummer and the aforementioned – and nuclear metronome-wristed – bassist Eddie. Eddie himself and second guitarist Ben took a turn on vocals before dragging their suave driver Dale on for a strident, eye-popping “Paranoid”, then a local punter on for “You Drive Me Ape”, which honestly the guy fucked up totally! Still, as he said, he was just walking past…! The real surprise, however, was reserved for when The Dickies invited the venue owner, Blue Aeroplanes bassist Chris Sharp, onto the stage. Apparently only knowing one Dickies number, and having been given an hour to learn 2 more, he brought a sheaf of lyric crib-sheets onstage and totally nailed a brilliant “Give It Back” and “Rosemary”. Ian then returned for set-closing double “If Stuart Could Talk” and “Gigantor” (for which he donned an impromptu towel “cape”), the band then leaving the stage to a huge reception. So, triumph or disaster? Thankfully, it veered considerably towards the former!

Encores of an almost straight “Breaking The Law” (the old Judas Priest HM chugger) and the inevitable “Banana Splits”, again delivered superbly by Chris, ended proceedings, and I grabbed the list and scampered around collecting signatures and offering congrats. Shorn of Leonard’s cartoon stylings and props, this felt more like a conventional “rock” show, but nonetheless The Dickies – and their guest vocalists – made it a thoroughly entertaining evening of vintage crazy and singalong punk rock. Be well and get better soon Leonard; 2016 has already taken away far more than it deserves to. But in the meantime, rest up and rest assured that your boys – and Ian the merch guy – are doing you proud!

998 MARTHA, The Woahnows, Two White Cranes, Bristol Exchange, Saturday 23rd July 2016

 

A very recent discovery for me, this lot: with the “Sword of Damocles” of potential redundancy hanging over my head earlier this year, I had neither the financial wherewithal nor the desire to look out for new and intriguing bands. However, oddly enough, when said redundancy was confirmed, I resolved to play “catch up” with a bit of my payout, and search out some new listening material. This particular bunch of young Durham oiks came courtesy of a recommendation from the esteemed Mr. Stuart “Langers”; I liked what I heard on Youtube, and promptly picked up their CDs, including current one “Blisters In The Pit Of My Heart”, finding it an amphetamine-fast rush of joyous and hooky indie pop with overlays of loud and crunchy powerpop guitar, galloping along on a swelling tide of bratty call and response male/ female vocals. As if Seafood were a C86 band, or like a Talulah Gosh on US popcore steroids… either way, enough to not only feature on heavy rotation in the car, but also enough for me to book tix for this timely Bristol gig!

Andy Fenton, being familiar with the band through “Indietracks”, was up for this too, so he picked me up on a sun-drenched Saturday evening for a swift drive down to the Exchange, finding venue and street parking easily and having a drink in the beer garden of the Stag And Hounds next door, declining their invite to join them for their hardcore punk band evening! We then hung around outside the Exchange after getting our entry wristbands, bumping into Bristol friends Kiron and Alison before wandering into this weirdly shaped and early-doors well-attended venue for openers Two White Cranes. A solo girl vocalist/ guitarist for a couple of numbers (one bolshy Rodney Allen-like original, and a cover of The Beautiful South’s “Prettiest Eyes”), she was then joined by her drummer colleague for a swift set of twee, gauche and partly formed indie/ US 90’s college pop, simple and pleasant enough but chronically unrehearsed. “Sorry I keep playing the wrong notes,” she remarked after another bum note, “but it’s part of the charm…” Erm, no, it’s not…

The Woahnows, up in short order at 9.15, were in no mood to fuck about; kicking into a wildly pounding and amphetamine fast rocking opener recalling Annie Christian, this young trio (featuring a replacement bassist called Matt, who kept announcing, “I’m Phil Randall!”) kicked into overdrive with a snappy set of Mega City Four/ Senseless Things frantic strumalong pop, often featuring songs which started fast and got faster! A new number (“Cold” on the set-list, but featuring a soaring hook of, “best defense/ best of friends”) was easily their best one, a rampant slice of post-popcore with an anthemic chorus, and they then brought Dan from Martha onstage for a cover of one of the headliner’s numbers! Promising stuff overall.

A swift 20 minute turnaround saw Martha take the stage at 10 in front of a rammed and enthusiastic sellout young crowd. Three scruffy indie boys and a female bassist with hot pants and a Minnie Mouse vocal delivery, they were also “on it” from the outset, guitarist Dan belting into the strident, in your face opener “Christine” and the equally breathless “Ping”, next up. Said female bassist Naomi suggested, “the crowd’s well organised in height order, but take a look around [so everyone can see],” before she took turns at lead vocals for the chuntering 6^th form angst of “1997, Passing In The Hallway”. One key feature of Martha’s performance, in fact, was that all 4 members took turns at lead vocals, with Naomi’s vocals flippant and haughtily detached, Dan and other guitarist Jonathan both echoing the high-pitched, yearning and passionate vocal delivery of Dashboard Confessional’s Chris Carraba, and even drummer Nathan getting in on the act. Nathan also featured the best line in song intros (“this songs about when you’re young, you’re not conservative then you get more conservative as you get older, then when you’re older still you’re not conservative at all – what’s that about?” being an entertainingly rambling example) as well as his utterly judicious bass drum message “I miss EU, I’m lonely”, echoing Martha’s song of the (almost) same name, the number which in fact (following my set highlight, a superb penultimate “Curly And Raquel”) concluded their swift and tremendous 45 minute set of amped-up powerful, tight and punchy indiepop.

A couple of equally frantic encores saw a fine performance to a conclusion, and I briefly congratulated the band on our way out, before a trip home delayed by an accident right on our M4 junction. Nonetheless, a superb evening out in the company of a buoyant and hugely promising new band. Good shout, “Langers”!

997 BELLY, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 20th July 2016

Out of town gigging for a (recent) change, for another band scratching that 90’s reunion itch… and this one I saw coming a mile off. Or at least 22 months off, since September 2014 (gig 926), when Tanya Donelly supported half-sister Kristen Hersh’s Throwing Muses, throwing (!) into her set not only a couple of her own Muses numbers (dating from when her poppier Muses material was the candyfloss to her semi-sibling’s broken glass, the soothing balm to Kristin’s traumatic fever), but, more significantly, a few numbers from her own subsequent splendid 90’s dreampop-indie band Belly. A Belly reunion was, for me, on the cards from then, given the seriously enthusiastic reception evidenced at that gig, and the only surprise, following a sprinkling of shows around the Boston area featuring Tanya and her Belly partner in crime, “rock chick” bassist Gail Greenwood, was that it took until earlier this year to be confirmed!

Confirmed it was, and when the tour announcement included a Bristol date, I jumped on pre-sale tix for me and Rach. Tonight we hit the road early, joined by fellow Belly-ites “Beef” plus Rich and Helen for a swift drive down to the usual Trenchard Car Park Level 8, hitting the venue early doors at 7.30. Not many in, and not many expected tonight, with both the back bar and balconies shut off, but nonetheless an enthusiastic and knowledgeable crowd (some old school Muses and Breeders shirts out of mothballs for tonight!) filled up as Rach, Beef and I took our usual stage left spot near the front, and Rich and Helen met up with a Bristol-based friend and split off stage right. We didn’t know the significance of that, at the time… The witching hour of 8.30 was greeted with a puff of dry ice and a pastoral intro tune, then Belly took the boards, a beaming Tanya and a clearly keyed-up and ready to rock Gail leading the Gorman brothers onstage. Chris took his stool and kicked into the galloping drumbeat of the breathless, spooky “Dusted”. And we were on our way, or so we thought…

Immediately we could hear – or NOT hear, as the case may be – that something was seriously amiss with the mix. It was awful, with bass and drum not so much dominating, as being pretty much the only instruments coming through our stage left speakers. Very little guitar and hardly any voice, it was drum dominated and echoey, like a bad wedding band or an acoustic act playing inside a steel tube. Despite a few shouts for more guitar, the band ploughed on, Gail throwing low-slung Ramone-like rock poses and starting some rock clapping for “Gepetto”, but the sound remained bass-and-drums only for 4 or 5 numbers, the frustration made worse by Tanya’s propensity to come off-mic for the higher and more powerful notes.

The band finally paused to introduce new number “Punish”, and a very loud voiced punter behind us finally got the message through. Following some queries to the mixing desk, it was apparent that only the stage-left speakers were affected (onstage monitors must’ve been fine, hence the band ploughing on, and Rich advised afterwards it sounded fine from his spot). A bit of debate as to what to do (Gail suggested, “everyone shift this way [stage right], this is where the cool kids are!” then jokingly remarked, “free t-shirts for everyone!”), whether to take a planned intermission early or carry on and hope the problem was fixable, resulted in the band deciding to continue their, “bass and drum jam”…

Thankfully midway through “Punish”, the speakers kicked in, although they were intermittent for a while and the guitar remained very understated in the mix throughout, largely affecting the faster, rockier numbers. A disappointing situation was however largely averted by the band’s good humour; a setback so early into their nascent reunion might’ve turned sour, but Tanya’s open, smiling demeanour and guitarist Tom’s and particularly Gail’s humorous interplay made the situation more palatable, so well done to them for that!

To be fair, they also played some great music; “Judas My Heart” was a brooding slice of acoustic truckstop Americana with some lovely harmonies and snippets from “She Loves You”; “The Bees” was stripped back and spooky, mysterious and kooky; and whilst “Slow Dog” galloped along pleasantly enough but lacked requisite guitar oomph to complement the militaristic choral drum pattern, “”Full Moon, Empty Heart” was the best sounding number of the first set, Tanya holding the opening “Sleeeeeeeeeep!!!!” note comfortably and performing some luscious vocal gymnastics at the song’s denouement. Then, after a short intermission, set 2 eased in with a touching acoustic “Untogether”, then took a similar pattern to the first set, with the slower numbers the better sounding, punchier and rockier numbers lacking a bit of beef, but the band’s winning humour and positive attitude winning through. “We’re bound to fuck this one up, so give us some cover!” they begged before the buoyant “Feed The Tree”, which actually held up very well (the guitar sound being generally submerged for this one anyway), Tanya giving her best vocal performance of the night, decisive and authoritative. Newie “Comet” and “Spaceman” drifted lazily in a Summery vibe, whilst “Low Red Moon” was a set highlight, creepy and deliciously stark, and received a lengthy ovation. A discordant “Super Connected” closed out an enthusiastically received set which could have sounded a whole lot better, but was rescued overall from complete mix disaster by the band’s attitude and strength of character. Well done!

After stripped back encore “Thief” and some gushing yet sincere praise from the band, I hit the front, prying a setlist from a patient roadie and inevitably running into Devizes friend Alfie down there. Then, after meeting the crew and walking up the hill to the car park, and before an M32 roadworks-delayed drive home, I was accosted by some girls who remembered me from those 90’s Level 3 nights (which they doubtless spent running for cover from my mad dancing!), and paid me a nice compliment, “you used to be a lot older than us then, but you're the same age as us now!” A suitably odd and entertaining way to conclude an odd and entertaining evening!