1,190 THE 2021 SWINDON SHUFFLE, Swindon The Hop, The Tuppenny, The Victoria and The Beehive, Thursday 9th to Saturday 11th September 2021

 

After a Covid-induced one year hiatus, and a slight bump from its’ usual slot into early September, “The Swindon Shuffle” – the ‘don’s answer to the “Camden Crawl” and a free, multi-venue, charity fundraising showcase of Swindon’s musical talents – makes a welcome return to my gig itinerary! And this time I’m out for more than just the single “one and done” nights I’d been restricted to in 2019 and 2018, due to a number of intriguing acts being scattered across the breadth of the event. Also, this year the charity beneficiary is, appropriately, The Prospect Hospice, falling in line with the recent “My Dad’s Bigger Than Your Dad” Festival fundraiser in honour of recently lost Swindon musical stalwart Dave Young. So I’ll be throwing some folding into buckets at some point…

 

So, “Shuffle Day 1” Thursday (although event organiser Ed Dyer would argue the Shuffle starts with Wednesday’s quiz night!) saw me “on it” pretty much from the off, parking up in Old Town and hitting the upstairs room of The Hop about 7.30, just as opener JIM BLAIR was finishing off his set with a fuzzed-out cover of stompy old blues staple “Come Together” and his own “Dancing Barefeet”, one of Dave Young’s favourite numbers. Caught up with folks before my real early-bird motivation, ABSTRACTION ENGINE, due on at 8. Since catching an impressive showing from this lot at 2018’s “12 Bands”, I’d been meaning to sample a “live” set of their own material, but events and unfortunate clashes have thus far conspired against us, so I was glad to set that straight tonight, settling in front and centre for their set. For whatever reason, I’d expected a set of post-millennial, intelligently crafted US alt-indie-influenced rock from vocalist David Moore and his charges, and opener “Low” initially underlined this, creeping in low and slow-burn in a pseudo-laze Real Estate-meets-Promise Ring style. However, “What Would You Say” was notably more upbeat, with cascading ringing guitar interplay and some very fine hooky choral harmonies, and by “Dreamer”, next up, the robust drum intro and darker, almost proto-Gothy atmospherics saw them almost channelling “Spiritwalker”-era Cult! A chameleonic lot, this, then, with various rock/indie musical styles and references aplenty thrown into their melting pot; difficult to pigeonhole, but thanks to a welcome penchant for insistent, hooky chorus lines (“Talk In Your Sleep” even recalling a rootsier Big Star chorus!), very easy to enjoy. Final number “Shiine”, which with its absorbing melancholy and largely instrumental intricate meander felt as if it could have walked off 90’s Boston faves Wheat’s “Hope And Adams” album, put the final polish on a splendid set – nearly 3 years in the waiting, but well worth the wait!

 

Had a chat with David – a fellow veteran of the post-punk wars! – and his splendid bandmates in the beer garden, before heading off to The Tuppenny. CANUTE’S PLASTIC ARMY were rounding off their set in front of a full house, with some galloping acoustic guitar and Anish’s as-ever strident, commanding vocals the feature of their version of the old folk staple “Gallows Pole”. I caught up with some folks (again) and took an early watching brief (which, happily for my buggered knee, turned into a sitting brief next to my old Brunel mate Andy) for THE LOST TRADES. Opening with “One Voice”, this collective of 3 acoustic/ folky singer-songwriters again proved the whole is greater than the sum of its’ parts, with an enchanting set of stripped-back, smoothly pastoral numbers overlaid with interwoven 2/3 part harmonies. A lot quieter than I’d normally go for, but I’m a total sucker for choral vocal harmonies (the likes of Gigolo Aunts would attest to that), and this equally honey-throated trio delivered them by the bucketload. Some fun between-song banter as well, Jamie debating the rights and wrongs of wearing the t-shirt of the band you’re going to see (a total no-no in my book!), and Tamsin bubbling over the video for a finger-clicking “Oaks” garnering them a mention in “The Guardian” (!). “Good Old Days” was again my highlight, Phil contributing some comparatively startlingly strident electric bass, and “Groom Of The Stools” (“Horrible Histories in musical form!” quipped Tamsin) was a untypical yet jolly way to end another charming Lost Trades set. And for me, to end Day 1!

 

“Shuffle Day 2” Friday – or “Nappy Night” as some termed it, stealing a reference to those 70’s/ 80’s U18 Brunel Rooms nights – was all about young bands up The Vic! I parked up behind the Roaring Donkey and headed in at 8.30 for openers KOTONIC, or, “the Kotonic two!” according to the vocalist/ guitarist, due to the absence of their drummer for Covid reasons. This impromptu duo played an interesting brand of dark emotive rock, veering towards 90’s post-grunge, 2000’s emo and even contemporary darkwave, without plunging headfirst into any of those styles. Easy to see where the big riffs would be, even in these stripped-back acoustic versions of their material, and clearly the vocalist is used to howling above the noise, evidenced by his strident yet commanding tones and the conviction of his delivery. New single “Roots” and a later “Not Broken” were both slow burns towards big, angst-ridden chorus crescendos, and whilst some of the material seemed a bit overwrought and serious, there was definite promise here.

 

But my main target, and ultimately my highlight of the night, was next up. I’d been meaning to check out CONCORD DRIVE for some time, not only due to some favourable “live” reports indicating a young indie band of burgeoning promise, but also because the guitarist was the son of an old friend – yup, that’s where I am now, I’ve graduated from supporting my mates’ bands, to checking out my mates’ kids bands! I’d caught up with Nathan briefly earlier, so hit the front for their set, the band emerging at 9.15 in front of a packed and unsurprisingly young crowd of their contemporaries. Opener “Stranger Still” immediately underlined that reported promise, being the kind of urgent, insistent indie rock that would have seen me gleefully piling into a mosh in my 90’s heyday, and the repetitive hook and looser, almost funky drummer beat of “LDN News” marked them out as more than one trick ponies. But it was the latest single, “Don’t Wanna Be” that was my highlight; a proper indie banger, this, a thrashing dervish of a song recalling Indoor Pets’ excellent “Teriyaki”, and delivered in a confident, swaggering style by young vocalist Jacob, who with his Justin Young-meets-Jarvis Cocker stage presence, preening and posing and rabble-rousing in equal measure, is either a natural-born frontman or the biggest show-off in town! “Train To Boston”, a Bowie/ T Rex glammy stomper was another highlight of a rapturously received set of urgent, vital and propulsive indie rock from a very promising band: “next year’s headliners?” mentioned Ed Dyer to me… maybe…

 

TRANSFER WINDOW, another youthful lot, followed in short order; they’d apparently recently shed one member so were debuting as a 3-piece, the young guitarist/ vocalist apologising for his, “terrible voice,” in advance of their opener, an upbeat emo-esque beast with an angular, backbeat chorus. This set the tone for another frantic, fast paced indie rock set, with an early “Shallow Tendencies” (“the first song we ever wrote – it’s fucking terrible!”) an embryonic and grungy howl, and other numbers veering between punky amphetamine gallops and emotive thrashes (one later number recalling Jimmy Eat World’s “Sweetness” for me). In similar musical territory to Concord Drive, they might be a bit behind in terms of songcraft and development, although their recent personnel changes probably won’t have helped their forward trajectory. Either way, still another young band worth watching out for…

 

This brought us to 10.45 and headliners STAY LUNAR. Still a bunch of spritely young bucks themselves, they seem almost veterans of my sojourns into the local scene now, as I’d seen them as Shore and Rainy Day Fund as well as their current incarnation. I’d always enjoyed them before without being blown away, but tonight they took a step up with easily the best “live” performance I’d seen them deliver. From the strumalong opener “Thinking About You”, through the upbeat robust jangle of “Not Your Fight” to the smoother (dare I even say radio-friendly) 80’s synth-embellished pop vibe of “Anywhere/ Everywhere” they were notably more practiced and polished than previous outings, whilst retaining their hazy, dreamy 80’s melody. The 80’s in fact are quite the touchstone for Stay Lunar, with many and varied similarities popping into my head (C86, The Smiths, Nick Heyward, even The Lotus Eaters!). New number “Hello Old Friend” a song about mental health, shone with its introspective charm, and closer “Brainshake” was a funkier groove to close out their popular set, before Ed persuaded them back out, somewhat reluctantly it seemed (!), to reprise an earlier “Immediately”. A set-list grab and a chat with Concord Drive’s Jacob (tonight’s Star of the Show for me; sorry Stay Lunar…) rounded off a very successful “Nappy Night”!

 

So “Shuffle Day 3” Saturday was my final action, as other commitments precluded my Sunday attendance; after a busy and emotional day, I was out early as well, parking up behind the cinema and wandering up to The Beehive, scene of tonight’s shenanigans. Met SI AND MATT HALL outside for a chat before taking a spot stage-front alongside Paul and Sophie Carter for their opening set, prompt at 7.15 under the watchful gaze of a photo of esteemed local music reporter Flicky Harrison, also lost earlier this year, the Beehive stage renamed for The Shuffle in her honour. The boys kicked off with oldie “Rhythm And Rhyme”, before “My Remedy”, the first of a smattering of newies, underlined what compere “Dubs” had alluded to in his introduction, feeling a little more alt-Country than Si’s usual tubthumping blue collar rock, Springsteen-meets-Mould style. “Slow Burn”, another newie, lived up to its name with some hushed guitar work underpinning an angsty lyric; then a storming, singalong “Back To The Fall” (“an old Raze*Rebuild number for these guys [Paul and myself]”) was my set highlight, predictably enough. “Reluctant Shut-In” and closer “Audiobook”, racier musically yet coming-of-old-age lyrically, proved Si has had as productive a song-writing lockdown as brother Matt has had a guitar-making one, Matt showing off his new construction this evening!

 

Ran into Rich and entourage before popping outside and chatting with Si, Matt and various other folks; then back in for the first couple of numbers of SPLAT THE RAT’s Irish folk set. I enjoyed their authentic cover of The Waterboys’ fiddly-diddly 80’s classic “Fisherman’s Blues” whilst musing that it felt contrary to the spirit of The Shuffle ethos to play lots of covers (oh shut up, you bloody purist!). But in any case, my busy day and a couple of late nights were catching up with me, so I bailed at 9, grabbing a kebab and heading home. Sorry Flour Babies (headlining The ‘hive tonight)… I will catch one of your sets ere long!

 Thus endeth The Swindon Shuffle for me; once again an excellent opportunity to catch up with old and new friends, as well as a fine showcase of the musical talent Swindon has to offer; plus, tellingly, evidence that the torch is being passed to a younger crowd, both of performers and punters, which can only serve to revitalise and enrich the scene. Whatever, after the Covid cancellation of 2020, it was just great to have it back!

 

1,189 HEAVEN 17 Presents “Reproduction” and “Travelogue”, London The Roundhouse, Sunday 5th September 2021

 

This one deserves a bit of context, methinks, involving a deep dive into my musical history. So here goes…

 Hallowe’en 1979 was a proper musical epiphany for me, as I attended The Brunel Rooms nightclub’s Under 18 “Nappy Night” for the first time. As a 14 year old fledgling punkster, albeit with a knowledge of said punk genre gleaned only from “Top Of The Pops” and the equally embryonic “Smash Hits” magazine, I was overwhelmed by the bombardment of brilliant new music that night, hearing the likes of Killing Joke, The Fall, Adam And The Ants, Wire, Spizz Energi and many more for the first time. However, chief amongst my new discoveries was the track that Amphi DJ Bill rather perversely used as his “demarcation line” between different tribal music sessions (punk, mod, metal, then back to punk), which was unlike nothing I’d ever heard; a robotic heartbeat pulse intro leading into a futuristic synth-powered hypnotic rhythm, with an utterly infectious hook about wanting to be, “tall tall tall, as big as a wall wall wall…” This was “Empire State Human” by The Human League, and this and its’ subsequent parent album “Reproduction”, a mix of utterly otherworldly synth sounds, quirky pop-culture loaded lyrics and irresistible earworm tuneage (not to mention a stark, heart-cracking version of 60’s staple “(You’ve Lost That) Loving Feeling”) became a firm favourite of mine. Another followed in “Travelogue”, but before I could avail myself of this music “live”, the band fractured into 2 warring factions, The Human League Mk. 2 and Heaven 17 (via the British Electric Foundation), both ultimately finding huge and enduring commercial success in the New Romantic pop landscape of the 80’s, albeit with considerably less interesting music to my then-Bunnymen infected post-punk ears (Heaven 17’s debut “Penthouse and Pavement” partly notwithstanding). So, no chance I’d ever hear any of that “Reproduction” or “Travelogue” material “live”, then…

 Until… late last year I bumped into Steffen, an old Brunel and Level 3 buddy, who casually mentioned he was looking forward to seeing Heaven 17 doing the first 2 Human League albums! Further investigation revealed he wasn’t just high on sniffing his photo development fluid (!), and that this was an actual thing, a special 40^th anniversary celebration of these 2 seminal records. Wow! I pounced straight away, and fellow “old boys” Paul and Ben needed little persuasion to join me!

 So, we headed up to London on a sun-drenched late Summer Sunday, changing parking plans en route due to tube closures, and eventually parking in Hammersmith and tubing to Chalk Farm from there. Time only to get a drink and taking a spot house left, near to one of the pillars circling the interior of this huge ornate former railway turntable shed, before the lights smashed to black and the sirens, alarms and pulsing synth bass of instrumental opener “Introducing…” washed over this expectant crowd. One of only 2 such gigs, this (the other one being the previous night in both bands’ hometown of Sheffield), so anticipation was palpable, as was the cheer that greeted Heaven 17 vocalist Glenn Gregory leading on the 6-piece band. Straight into the slashing synth-punk hook of “Almost Medieval”, and immediately any concerns I had about tonight were stamped down good and proper. It. Sounded. GREAT!

 “This has been a long time coming! Two years [due to Covid postponements] or 40 – take your pick!” announced a clearly buoyed Gregory, before giving us a more detailed heads-up as to the inception and gestation of this project; apparently 10 years in the making, these gigs, and also involving ultimately unsuccessful negotiations to bring original Human League vocalist Phil Oakey on board… actually, another later between-song preamble revealed Gregory himself was due to be the original Human League’s vocalist, Gregory deciding on pursuing an abortive photography career in London instead, and Oakey himself was recruited by Ian Craig Marsh with the recommendation, “I don’t know if he can sing, but he’s got great hair…!” Gregory was, however, the ideal frontman for this project; a total star, stylish, louche and languid, doubtless a late night torch singer in another life with his deep, sonorous baritone more than a match for Oakey’s similar vocal tones, but constantly bigging up the source material, emphasising his pure fandom for the original Human League and deflecting attention and plaudits onto the sole remaining original Human League member on show tonight, Martin Ware, with whom he shared an entertaining, jovial bonhomie, and plenty of quips and humorous asides about the songs, often at Oakey’s expense!

 The “Reproduction” run-through was nothing short of startling; “Circus Of Death”, next up, was uneasy and creepy from the opening funereal synth death march to its’ harrowing horror story lyric; a bouncy “Blind Youth” was accompanied by an excellent youth culture-orientated slideshow on the 4 large screens above the band; and whilst “Empire State Human” lacked a little musical oomph, the sheer joy and chutzpah of the song still saw me leaving my gig buddies for a dancing spot nearer the front. But it was the chilling, elegiac “Morale”, segued into an astonishingly eerie rendition of “(You’ve Lost That) Loving Feeling” which was my highlight; as heartbreakingly naked and gorgeous as the recorded version, this saw Ware join Gregory upfront for a brilliantly observed vocal duet. No screen backdrops here; not needed!

 “Zero As A Limit”’s accelerating hook (“this used to whip you into a frenzy, but you were all punks in those days!” noted Ware) concluded the first album, Gregory announcing, “It’s now time for the meat raffle!” No meat packet on offer here, though, as the sinister synth shapes of “The Black Hit Of Space”, juxtaposed with its’ frankly stupidly hilarious lyric, commenced the “Travelogue” rendition. Another superb album, this for me paled slightly in comparison to “Reproduction”, its’ instrumentals particularly feeling a little like padding (Ware himself acknowledging this, referring to them, slightly tongue-in-cheek, as, “commercial suicide!” whilst admitting, “if it was good enough for David Bowie [to include instrumentals on his album “Low”], then it’s good enough for us!”). However there were still stunning highlights aplenty, with a poignant and uncomfortably still-relevant “Dreams Of Leaving”, accompanied by films of refugees of today, emerging as my “Travelogue” highlight, just pipping a superb, herky-jerky and insanely jolly “Being Boiled” and the roof raising “whoa-oh-oh”’s of a toe-tapping “Only After Dark”.

 “That was the last track off “Travelogue”,” remarked Gregory after the conclusion of the smoothly crooning radio broadcast of “WXJL Tonight”, “the 3^rd hour gets really interesting, we’re doing “Dare” next!” Thankfully, this wasn’t the case, but the “Holiday ‘80” EP tracks and a funky “I Don’t Depend On You”, which the original band released under the pseudonym of The Men, got an airing to finish a stunning and breathtakingly swift 2 hours, before Heaven 17 actually played some Heaven 17 numbers as the encore! “(We Don’t Need This) Fascist Groove Thang”, the sadly still-relevant yet insistently catchy call to arms, got a singular seal of approval, particularly when accompanied by the projected faces of those loathsome tory types Johnson, Patel, Gove and Raab with huge black crosses superimposed over them! Then an inevitable and lengthy “Temptation” saw heavily pregnant backing singer Rachel take the spotlight with a searing vocal performance to this, Heaven 17’s biggest 80’s hit. I’d previously always thought of this song as a bit cheesy, but this was actually a splendid rendition, and a fine way to end a superb evening.

 Persistence paid off from a set-list perspective too, projectionist Malcolm Garrett handing me a list on my 3^rd time of asking (!), then a slow egress still got us cross-town and back to the car within the hour, and home just after 1. This for me was one of the Greats; it was just amazing to hear these songs “live” for the first time anyway, but even better to have seen them treated with the love, reverence and respect they deserve. Messrs. Gregory and Ware and the rest of Heaven 17; you totally did these songs, and the seminal, ground-breaking group that was the original Human League, full and complete justice tonight. Well done folks!

 

1,188 EXTC, Swindon The Victoria, Thursday 2nd September 2021

 

One of my last gigs before lockdown bit in March 2020 was a properly intriguing one, the debut “warm-up” gig from EXTC, the post-TC&I project from former XTC drummer Terry Chambers, following his return to these shores from “Down Under” a couple of years ago. XTC, of course, were Swindon New Wave legends back in the 70’s, initially playing an itchy, agitated brand of propulsive and hypertensive New Wave, then smoothing the rough edges off and evolving into quirkily melodic and quintessentially English pop storytellers. Long gone now, but Chambers, following his recent brief TC&I liaison with fellow original XTC man Colin Moulding, has clearly rediscovered his love of playing, and has gathered a band together to continue bringing XTC classics to the faithful. As vocalist Steve Tilling actually said during this gig, “we really want to make a go of this,” so no surprise that they announced some immediate post-lockdown shows, one of which was a return to the scene of their last Swindon triumph. So, despite finding out about it only last week, I was still well up for that!

 Trundled up the hill and secured the last parking spot in the car park opposite the Vic, then mooched around and chatted with a few folks before heading in for the first set at 8.30. Quite a crowd for this one in this old pub back room; a venerable one too, I felt quite young! “Had your jabs, have you? All deloused and everything?” joked Tilling as he led the now-4 piece band onstage, bursting into the angular opener “This Is Pop”, eliciting the first of many singalongs this evening. “Good to be out! We’re going to start another plague tonight!” quipped the jovial Tilling before an early languid, meandering “Language In Our Lungs” and deliciously slow, swayalong “Towers Of London” double.

 “Languid” actually seemed the by-word for the early part of this first set, in fact, with slower, more melodic material to the fore, although Tilling, wide-eyed, shoulder-length crinkle-haired and harlequin-trousered, remained a riveting frontman throughout, deftly walking the line between the centre-of-attention frontman and XTC fan, never trying to ape either Moulding’s or Partridge’s vocal styles, just letting the material shine. That said, a couple of (very) deep cuts dragged a little, the very (overly?) proficient band overplaying a little and veering too close to prog overload for my liking…

 However, “No Thugs In Our House” brought us right back, a brilliantly bouncy observational little number and followed by equally excellent first set closers “Ball And Chain” and “Ballad Of Peter Pumpkinhead”, at which point it dawned on me that listening to this material, so parochial and provincial in mood and subject matter, in the Vic on a Thursday night seemed just about the most SWINDON thing it was possible to do!

 Took a breather outside mid-set, chatting with a fellow punter who’d travelled down with his posse from Bromsgrove! Now that’s dedication for you – I pretty much have to take my handbrake off and freewheel down the hill afterwards, and I’m home, me…! Set 2 opened with some punter heckling, “who’s on drums?”, Tilling deadpanning, “oh just some old bloke,” in reply. “Sgt. Rock”, “Earn Enough For Us” and the splendidly groovy “Mayor Of Simpleton” again got this devoted crowd singing along, and the lovely, pastoral “Grass” (“about getting fruity in a field – probably Coate Water!”) diffused the mood before an unexpected but welcome “Respectable Street”. Thankfully, “Generals And Majors” was given the full-on, propulsive bass treatment, along with a Tilling-led crowd singalong false climax, before the band kicked in again for a speeded-up denouement. The off-kilter rhythm of “Making Plans For Nigel” allegedly finished the set, although Tilling announced, “we’re not going to do that going off and coming back on again thing!” and powered into the ticking, quiet-loud (well, louder…) “Senses Working Overtime”. At this point they did go off, inevitably returning for closer and set highlight, the brilliantly herky-jerky coming-of-age tale “Life Begins At The Hop”. It certainly does; the only way to see out a great 2 hours of nostalgia for now.

 Half a list and a handshake from Mr. Tilling later, I let the handbrake off and trundled home (!), bidding safe travels to my Bromsgrove buddy on the way back to the car. And you know what, on this form, I don’t blame him one bit for making that journey to hear Terry, Steve and the boys once again do full justice to XTC’s fine canon of work!

1,187 “MY DAD’S BIGGER THAN YOUR DAD” FESTIVAL, Swindon Town Gardens, Saturday 28th August 2021

 

In June, the Swindon Music Community lost a towering figure, both figuratively and literally, in Dave Young, former owner of the Victoria and 12 Bar gig venues, promoter and impresario extraordinaire, and latterly our “live” favourite Gaz Brookfield’s tour soundman. As a relative newbie to the music scene that for years had been sprouting fertile tendrils right under my unknowing nose, I never really knew Dave apart from on brief nodding terms, but I can still acknowledge the massive impact he’d made to Swindon’s entertainment scene, and to the lives of many of the good folk therein. Following his passing, a number of said folk, led by Ed Dyer of the “Swindon Shuffle” team, came up with the idea of this event, apparently a continuation of events Dave himself used to run (hence the name), as a perfect way not only to celebrate the life of such an important figure in Swindon music lore, but also raise some much-needed cash for the Prospect Hospice, who supported Dave during his final days. That in itself would have been enough to ensure my attendance, but when Gaz decided to break his current gig hiatus to play a full band set in honour of his friend, Logan was up for it too!

 So Logan and I headed up the hill on a sunny Saturday lunchtime, parking up just around the corner from the Town Gardens thanks to a resident’s parking pass from local boy Rich! Wandered through a smattering of stalls to get our wristbands for entry into the grassy Bowl leading up to the arched mainstage, bumping into Rich and Ady and catching up with the Americana stylings of openers BLACK SHEEP APPRENTICE, Richard Skidmore’s vehicle to document his paeans of lost love and despair, as backdrop. Just the kind of stuff for a sunny day, then! I jest, of course, as “Skiddy” and crew were on top form, with “Born To Walk Alone” and eponymous set closer “Black Sheep Apprentice” my highlights of a fine set of his combination of Spanish guitar-inflected psych folk pop and Ennio Morricone-meets-Arthur-Lee baroque dusty Americana, a set concluded by Skiddy raising a glass to his old friend Dave. Fine start!

 Rich headed off to the footy and Logan and I took a wander around the stalls while JIM BLAIR was plying his proto bluesy riffery onstage. A gentleman and a very talented musician, Jim, but honestly (and my loss, I know…) his stuff’s not to my tastes; the same could be said for the subsequent ERIN BARDWELL TRIO, an unusual 3-piece set-up from former Skanxter Erin, who played predominantly piano-led ska material, a couple of early numbers which I recognised as 2-Tone covers. Again, Erin is a lovely bloke, but I’ve never liked ska, so Logan and I caught up with old friends Rich and Helen, before heading out of the Bowl to the Bandstand, operating as the second “acoustic” stage and being overseen by “Sheer Music” impresario Kieran Moore. THE LOST TRADES, a loose collective of 3 local folky musicians including Tamsin Quin (whom I’d seen deliver charming pastoral acoustic sets in the past) and Phil Cooper (who supported Fij and Bickers in Oxford a couple of years back with a quirkily impressive, almost US college pop solo set) kicked off their set with a very Fleetwood Mac-like “One Voice”, an ironically named number as it was immediately evident that it was the combination of their 3 voices, intertwining and producing some lovely harmonies, that would be the feature of their delicate yet intriguing and absorbing folksy set. A jaunty “Ballad Of The Groom Of The Stools” (a true lost trade, apparently, being about the servant who used to wipe the king’s arse!) made Logan chuckle, but it was closer “Wait For My Boat To Come Home”, with its intricate harmonies, that was my favourite of a set from a band I’ll definitely see again – and soon!

 

Another wander around the Bowl, then, bumping into folks and catching up with the likes of Paul Carter, Si and Matt Hall, Steve and his charming wife Caz, a returning Mark Carter back from Aus, then, back out by the bandstand, an arriving Tim and Danny, then Gaz Brookfield! Gaz had rocked up there, as had we, to catch the 5 p.m. set from his touring buddy B-SYDES. “I’m glad to be actually playing to people’s faces!” announced Ben after kicking off his set with a robust and rambunctious solo version of the excellent “Crutches”, a real banger with the full band but still pretty damn fine in this format. The more plaintive and poignant storytelling of “This Was My City Once” followed, and a none-more-appropriate “Good Times” elicited a nip of whisky from Gaz’ hip flask! A great set from Ben, despite his worries that, “I’ve forgotten how to tune and chat in these last 18 months!” which culminated in an angular and discordant “Still In Saigon” and featured an impressive last note hold from Ben. Good work, mate, you certainly earned your subsequent planned “advanced state of refreshment”!

 

A little chat with the man before the subsequent SHUDDERS set, which initially seemed very understated and almost hushed in comparison with Ben’s performance, but then settled into a combination of relaxing and hazy 70’s West Coast Laurel Canyon vibes (the likes of opener “Thought I Saw You” and “Sorry”), and more upbeat earlier “Pirate Folk” stuff (“Words Of A Fool” and the later jig of “Lost And Broke”). By now, Stu had arrived so the Shudders formed an atmospheric backdrop to our catch-up.

 We then headed back into the by-now much busier Bowl (an earlier chat with organiser Ed Dyer revealed over 700 advance tickets were sold – well done Swindon, that’s pretty impressive!) where Dave’s old band THE CHAOS BROTHERS were delivering overt, punchy and hobnail-stompy covers of the likes of “Ever Fallen In Love” and “The Jean Genie” to universal acclaim from an increasing dancefloor (dance-field?). But we were here for our undoubted highlight of the day…

 

After GAZ BROOKFIELD AND THE COMPANY OF THIEVES’ totally understandable withdrawal from our recent Wickham Festival, we’d assumed that this was going to be another blank Brookfield year… so Logan and I were both well up for this set, so much so that I had to persuade Logan not to grab a bit of barrier until the band actually came onstage! However, when Gaz led the band on and implored us to, “gather round!” we didn’t need any further persuasion! Opener “The March Of Progress” demonstrated not only that Gaz and co., despite the forced “live” hiatus and possible lack of face to face rehearsal, really hadn’t missed a beat, but also, judging by Gaz’ impassioned roar of the “What is going… ON!!!!” hook, he was “on it” too, determined to play a blinder for the old friend Dave. “The Tale Of Gunner Haines” got Logan singing along down the front, bringing back memories of that RSD duet (!), and a galloping “World Spins Round” was ragged and racey, Gaz and co whipping through the set at quite a lick, although Gaz admitted, “the lockdown pounds have made this a lot harder work – good cardio though!” Tonight’s stage-time organiser, the esteemed Mr. Dave Franklin, got a shout out as a “piratey type” before an excellent “Land Pirate’s Life”; the inevitable “Be The Bigger Man” featured a toned down lyric of, “I grabbed the scoundrel by the throat,” in deference to the younger audience members (!); and all too soon, final number “Let The East Winds Blow” saw Gaz lead the clapping and singalong echo line, to conclude a superb festival set full of utter bangers. Great to have you back, Gaz!

 Dusk fell on the Bowl as Logan decided he was hungry, so I actually saw the early part of the follow-up set from another of Dave Young’s old bands, BOYS FROM THE COUNTY HELL, from the food queue! They were however completely as advertised, happily; a fiddly-diddly raggle taggle bunch of old Pogues fans playing their heroes’ brand of punked-up Irish folk, with a selection from MacGowan’s mob’s material covered for good measure (including, gladly, their eponymous “Boys From The County Hell” which saw me shouting, “lend me ten pounds and I’ll buy you a drink!” at my son whilst ordering his hot dog!). A lot of Spider Stacey-inspired tin whistle instrumental reels were also a feature, but the sing-and-swayalong covers of “Dirty Old Town” and closer “Jesse James” saw me and the Hall brothers sing along raucously. Good time stuff!

 

A brief break before headliners KOVA ME BADD came onstage, led by what appeared to be the Honey Monster in an old style stripe bathing suit! Their relentless cheesy covers were however a bit much for me, and when Logan asked to call it a (long) day I was fine with that. So that drew our participation in My Dad’s Bigger Than Your Dad Festival to a close; a complete success in my experience, with lots of good times, good friends and great sounds, all brought together to celebrate love, life and music. Just as Dave Young, no doubt looking down on us with a wide bandit grin, would want. Ed and co., this was simply a splendid day, you’ve all done Dave proud. Well done and thanks!

1,186 FRANK TURNER, Pet Needs, Guise, Samantics, Frome Cheese and Grain, Sunday 8th August 2021

 

The last “paying” gig before last March’s lockdown was recent “live” staple, folk/punk troubadour and storyteller Frank Turner (Bath Forum, gig 1,181), so it seems only appropriate that Frank should host one of the first ones back! Indeed, had the initial “Freedom Day” date for full easing of all restrictions gone ahead on 21 June as planned, instead of being shunted back a month, this one – part of Frank’s “The Gathering” afternoon/evening extended bill events to fully welcome the “live” experience back, and initially scheduled for the following Saturday 26^th – would actually, and fittingly, have been the first back!

 This was also due to be a full family outing, but the youngest cried off at short notice, so we dropped them off at Grandmas and headed down on a sunny afternoon, phoning our friend Matt (who rather handily lives the other side of Frome) on the journey, who availed himself of the spare ticket. Got to the venue at 5, in time to catch the last knockings of Samantics’ jumpy and shouty set (sorry, but that’s all I remember of it!) and to suss out the arrangements. No Covid passport required, but a venue running at 50% capacity and with a new ventilation system installed – fair enough! We grabbed a drink and sat on the steps in front of the sun-drenched outside terrace, popping back in for Guise at 5.45. A two-piece iteration of Frank’s wife’s eponymous band, this time, with Jess being joined by co-vocalist Laura Hanna to embellish the harmonies of her delicate, absorbing and melancholy material. Opener “The Fun Part” was a charming strumalong opener, with tumbling vocals and a few too many words for comfort (which I’m always happy with in a song!), and after Jess made reference to herself and Laura being the only distaff performers on the bill (“consider us the apple spritz to your IPA!”), a subsequent “I Know When You Leave” (“about Frank going on tour – not [at the moment], he won’t fuck off now!”) was a wispy lovelorn beast. Another fine Guise set culminated in a more up-tempo newie, “The Boy And The Thief”, featuring more galloping guitar work and more tumbling over-wordy vocals from the impressively-ranged Ms. Guise. Ms. Guise, you see, not Mrs. Turner, as in her words, “I didn’t take his name because, you know, fuck the patriarchy!”

 A brief chat with the ever-gregarious Jess at the merch table afterwards, Jess claiming to have remembered us from Bath last March which was nice, then Rach got pizza for herself and Logan and we had a tea interval down by the nearby river at the far end of the car park, not only noticing the canoe slalom course set-up, but also a couple of water voles! Back in for a brief sampling of the subsequent Pet Needs early set, their frantic acoustic folky skiffle not really floating our collective boats, so we sat outside on the terrace instead, catching up with Matt on his arrival and subsequently also missing main support Skinny Lister!

 

However, we were all back in just before 9, as Frank bounded onstage solo, welcoming us all to, “Show 2,535!” before conducting a raucous and committed singalong to opener “The Ballad Of Me And My Friends”. Introducing fellow Sleeping Soul Matt Nasir onstage and commenting, “it feels like we’re revisiting the scene of a crime!”, Frank then announced the gig rules, adding a third to the usual, “don’t be a dickhead,” and, “if you know the words, sing along,” with, “if Matt does something complicated on the mandolin (an instrument Frank recently persuaded him to learn, apparently), you have to cheer!”

 

Not that this audience needed any prompting to cheer – they (or should that be, “we”), were totally engaged in the performance from note one, cheering and singing along to every word, determined to make up for lost time. As also was Frank; an outstanding performer even on his worst day, but rarely have I seen him perform his songs with such overt conviction, such passion and emotion, pouring heart and soul into every note, and commenting pointedly between songs as to how much this matters to him, and to us all. At this point, I normally list specific highlights, but just look at the set-list – in all honesty, every single number was magnificent, as also was the easy bonhomie between Frank and Matt, Frank’s between-song diatribe about recent events (“no-one knows how things are going to play out, least of all the people in charge; fucking twats!”), a touching tribute to his friend, the recently-lost Scott Hutchison of Frightened Rabbit prior to an achingly emotional newie “A Wave Across A Bay”, and his final, sincere thanks and comments on the sense of community he – and we – feel at a Frank Turner gig, A roof-raising and raucous “I Still Believe” was the perfect ending to an evening during which rock’n’roll saved us all, at least for a while… As Frank put it earlier; “fucking hell, I missed you guys!” And Frank, the feeling is totally mutual!

1,185 THE 2021 WICKHAM FESTIVAL (Saturday only), Saturday 7th August 2021

 “A Great Boy’s Day Out!” was my summary of my inaugural Saturday trip to Wickham Folk Festival with my 2 sons, back in 2019, so this mid-sized event, musically admittedly at the periphery of my largely indie/ punk/ rock tastes, nonetheless remained firmly on my radar. So a repeat Saturday trip for myself and Logan was “on” for 2020’s Saturday, once said day announced an itinerary including full band performances from our local folk/ punk favourite Gaz Brookfield, a return for the splendid Nick Parker and a first opportunity to see New Wave veteran singer-songwriter Nick Lowe, plus a “surprise” headliner, all clues at the time pointing hopefully to Elvis Costello but ultimately turning out to be veteran Irish folk/ bluesman Van Morrison! Also not necessarily to my tastes, but one worth adding to the gig CV…

 Then… Covid hit, wiping out all Summer 2020’s festival activities, despite early hopes that lockdown might be lifted in time to get this event on… The whole bill was “rolled” to 2021, tickets and all, so we held on to our tix in the hopes that the bill would stand pat. Unfortunately, despite all restrictions being eased in time to get the event on, the bill was affected with non-UK acts not being able to attend, and Gaz Brookfield – a type 1 Diabetic who had spent much of the lockdown period self-isolating for his health and who, entirely understandably, didn’t feel ready to perform – also announcing his withdrawal. Some bad news also leading up to the event, with “problems” with the main stage requiring a rejig of the stages and running times, and poor weather reportedly rendering the site and surrounds more than a bit muddy…!

 Still, we were still up for the day out (a bit of mud never stopped the rock!), so we headed down South late morning on a cloudy but (so far) dry day, pulling off the main road and into the “Day Parking” queue about 12.30. 15 minutes later, we were still stuck there in an immovable queue, with cars in front of us turning tail and heading back out. After questioning one such driver who informed me that the parking field was “a quagmire”, we followed suit, speaking rather unsatisfactorily to a festival steward on the way out (“anywhere else to park?” – “No, sorry” – “but I hear it’s a quagmire!” – “yes, we’re towing cars on and off the field” – “that’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?” – “sorry, mate, I didn’t ask for it to rain…”) then desultorily heading back the way we came, seriously considering packing it in and going home, even at this early stage, if there was no alternative to leaving the car in the bog! Luckily a local small Garden Centre opened their overspill car park for us (“you might as well park in there, I’ve a feeling we’re going to be sent more cars shortly…”), so we donned heavy boots and squelched our way through a soggy campsite to the main arena. Same site as before, situated on the side of a hill, but this time all the stalls, activities etc. were clinging to the perimeter of the site, ironically where the mud was the worst! Still, we navigated our way through the mud to the Big Top tent in the corner – 2019’s second stage, this year’s makeshift main one – for our first act YOUNG ‘UNS, a largely acapella trio bemoaning the fact that a sudden surge in popularity of sea shanties – their stock-in-trade – coincided with their not being able to perform them due to lockdown! Still, a couple of rousing numbers about class struggles through the ages (Stefan Cush would be looking down proudly, I thought) and a lovely poignant closer “Tiny Little Notes” (about a girl who leaves notes on a Sunderland bridge imploring people not to take their own lives) punctuated an entertaining start.

 

We wandered down the front, Logan grabbing some barrier and myself chatting to fellow fan Claire, braving the entire weekend with her boys, for NICK PARKER AND THE FALSE ALARMS, on at 10 to 2. With Gaz’ withdrawal, Nick’s set was suddenly the crux of our day, and happily the man delivered – big time! “Never Been To Dublin” was a joyous, raucous opener, encapsulating Nick’s oeuvre of folk-tinged but deceptively hooky melody and intelligent, well-crafted storytelling. The man remarked, “lovely weather!” and gave a shout-out to the site crew before a soaring, singalong “Make Yourself At Home”, Nick remarking at the ovation at its’ conclusion with, “I’ve missed the clapping at the end of my songs!”. A well-chosen set delivered singalong banger after singalong banger, the unprompted “ba-ba” fill-in’s during “Departures” and the hoedown denouement to “Terry And June” proving early highlights, before Nick introduced the Worley family, mum and 2 kids, for the traditional sign-aloft prompts during an excellent “Es Tut Mir Leid”. The little girl was an absolute star, waving her sign as if her life depended on it, then going utterly bat-s-word crazy during another subsequent hoedown. A great set ended, appropriately, on an unnamed song of hope, because that’s what we all need right now, right?

 Logan persuaded me to buy him the Nick Parker hoodie that the merch lady persuaded him to try on (!), and we had a brief chat with Nick during the opening numbers of former Clannad frontperson MOYA BRENNAN’s subsequent set. With 2 harps as part of the stage set-up, this was always going to be a very quiet offering, her wispy traditional Irish melodies evoking mists rolling in off a dusky evening loch, so no surprise Nick kept shushing me during our chat – I do tend to talk a bit loud, me…! Time to kill thereafter, so we trudged through the mud to the far end of the site, by the half-built and wind-battered main stage (apparently said stage was delivered both too small and too late, hence its’ abandonment!), sussing out possible tea destinations amongst the half dozen eateries clustered around the wooden picnic benches. Took the weight off awhile, but a fine misty rain began to fall so we sought shelter in the small Marquee second stage. HATTIE HATSTAR provided some fun mid-afternoon diversion – looking like Mel Giedroyc’s older sister in pink bloomers but coming across musically like a cross between They Might Be Giants and Frank Sidebottom, through a Sarah Millican filter (OK I’m reaching here a bit, bear with me…), she swapped between accordion and ukulele and sung quirky ditties such as, “I want to give birth to a Clanger because Clangers are made of pink wool” (accompanied by her very own crowd-surfing Clanger!), “Dance like a twat – because life’s too short not to”, and the one about loving one’s pets more than one’s partner. Funny, wry and observational, Hattie was the (Hat) star of a barmy but entirely entertaining set!

 Tea beckoned then, so we split a pork roll before a wander back to the main stage for SETH LAKEMAN. A singer-songwriter I was totally unfamiliar with, his Irish tinged pop melodies were passable, no more, but attracted a big crowd, so what do I know, hey? Anyway, we circumnavigated the tent in increasingly glutinous conditions (Logan almost getting stuck in a particularly deep puddle!), to take a good viewing position as the Lakeman massive exited at the end of his set.

 

NICK LOWE was next up at 6 – a veteran of early 70’s pub rock staples Brinsley Schwarz, he’d then dovetailed in nicely with the late 70’s proto New Wave singer-songwriter crowd centred around Stiff Records, as performer, songwriter and producer, and enjoyed a brief flurry of “pop” hits before, like his contemporary Elvis Costello, ploughing a more exploratory and idiosyncratic furrow through various musical genres, more bluesy and rootsy than those late 70’s New Wave days. I confess I own a grand total of 2 Nick Lowe albums, both from those days, so much of this set was largely unfamiliar to me. Also, Nick had unfortunately fallen foul of the UK Covid passport rules, his intended lucha libre wrestler-masked Mariachi backing band Los Straitjackets being stuck in Mexico (!), so, in his words, “you’ve got me on my jack!” However, initial disappointments were soon allayed by the man’s quiet, understated delivery and the charmingly classy song-writing quality of the material. The man can put a tune together, no messin’!

 Showing various facets of his musical oeuvre, this was a virtuoso meander through a varied and impressive canon. Bluesy opener “Man That I’ve Become” ceded to more upbeat, almost 50’s rockabilly-esque gallops such as “Long Limbed Girl” and “Love Starvation”, the more introspective balladry of “People Change” and the gorgeous “Lately I’ve Let Things Slide”, and even an unexpected cover of the Bee Gee’s 80’s cheese-fest “Heartbreaker”. But, inevitably “Cruel To Be Kind”, delivered 40 minutes in and accompanied with a comment of, “that’s not even my best song – but it’s the one the public heard and said, THAT is a hit, so thank you!”, was my highlight. Well, until a slow-burn and plaintive rendition of “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace Love and Understanding”, anyway…! A rambunctious “I Knew The Bride (When She Used To Rock’n’Roll”) concluded a fine hour from the great man – splendid stuff!

 

We hovered outside the tent, house left, afterwards – ostensibly hoping to catch a word with Mr. Lowe should he emerge from backstage (he never did) – as VAN MORRISON kicked his very bluesy set into gear with “Deadbeat Saturday Night” and “Three Chords And The Truth”. By this time, however, interest was waning and limbs were tired of fighting against the mud, so we called it a day 20 minutes or so in, after a false start and quick dash back upfield to see Van do Them’s 60’s classic, the Doors-like rocker “Baby Please Don’t Go”, which he merged in with an equally raucous “Got My Mojo Working”. Which, indeed he did have, fair play to him, but we were done.

 A slow squelch out and a quick drive saw us home about 9.30 after a varied day. A Wickham Festival Saturday that was in all honesty a bit of a dog’s breakfast – part of me can’t help thinking that contingency plans could have sorted some issues, whilst recognising others were out of the organisers’ collective control. However, we both enjoyed the two Nicks at least, so all in all, another memorable (at least!) Boy’s Day Out!

1,184 THE LOVELY EGGS, Thick Richard, AK/DK, Oxford Bullingdon Arms, Sunday 1st August 2021

 

Starting to come thick and fast now, with this 7-time (!) rescheduled tour… I confess I’m a relative latecomer to fiercely independent psychedelic punk veterans The Lovely Eggs, having taken the plunge early last year and picking up their 6^th (!) album “I Am Moron”, finding a thrillingly ranty clutch of scuzzy and fuzzy proto-punk numbers from this Lancastrian partner two-piece. Apparently, vocalist/ guitarist Holly also used to be in Angelica some years back, a band we saw once (gig 455, over 20 years ago!) and dismissed at the time with a pithy “the world only needs so many Helen Loves”!

 Anyway, The Lovely Eggs are a considerable step up from them, so I booked tix for their Bristol SWX gig which was then postponed multiple times due to Covid, then moved to the Fleece following a fire at SWX, and finally rescheduled for the same day I’d planned a big day out in Cardiff with my youngest! Luckily, tix were still available for the Oxford gig the following night, and I had 2 gig buddies for this one, so I drove over to Stu’s and Nige picked us up from there for the onward journey, parking in a practically deserted Cowley Road Tesco’s car park (whaaaat!), and hitting the venue at 7.30 after showing our Covid passports – first in! Air con was blaring on arrival, so I was glad I hadn’t joined the boys in wearing shorts – in fact I was dressed up to the nines, giving my new shiny black shirt and red suede creepers a gig debut!

 Openers AK/DK were on prompt at 8; an odd duo set-up, with a double drumkit separated by a bank of keyboards and electronica, their modus operandi seemed to be; settle on a sheet metal synth riff and overplay it to death, overlay it with minimal and indecipherably distorted vocals, and pound out a monotone, high tempo beat. This made their set relentlessly one-dimensional, and in all honesty one to be endured; still, at least I know I’m back to gigging proper now, having seen my first crap support act! Thick Richard, next up, was a completely different proposition – a skinny bespectacled poet in a Carter USM t-shirt (part Jarvis Cocker, part Sue Perkins, as he himself put it), with a thick Mancunian accent and a 100 mph in your face delivery, he came across like a more profane John Cooper Clarke (an obvious comparison, but if I hear clip clops, I’m saying “horse”, right?). The poetry and audience banter blended together as he (allegedly) couldn’t remember half of his opener, ironically about being off his face at a music festival! “Temporary Tourettes” (“I’ve not done this on the tour yet as it’s fucking horrible!”) lived up to its’ rep, a tumbling thesaurus of scatological insults with a serious message at its core (“they’re lying to you!” – of course they are mate, they’re tories!) and a later poem saw him donning a Raoul Moat mask made out of a child’s t-shirt – horribly poor taste but bloody funny. An uncomfortably entertaining set ended quite fittingly, with him walking offstage whilst in full fl…

 Not much changeover required, so The Lovely Eggs took the stage in short order, to strobe searchlights and the undulating synth pulse of Stereolab-like opener “Long Stem Carnations”. “This Decision”, next up, was however more representative of the set; certainly more punk than psychedelia, they came across like a female Mark E Smith fronting a 2-piece Ramones, with pocket dynamo Holly either holding her guitar aloft or indulging in heads-down no nonsense mindless boogie style shredding, whilst veering between Poly Styrene little girl lost vocals and screaming demented harpy rants, and drummer Dave a Marky Ramone clone, both visually and in the same metronomic economy of drumming style. They’d have fitted in nicely in mid-70’s NYC Max’s Kansas City or CBGBs, methinks… Some fun quips (“Oxford! Did you take a punt on this gig?”) and between-song banter too, about Dave’s e-Bay sales (including – finally! – his Mickey Mouse bar of soap!) Holly’s e-mail correspondence with a disgruntled fan about Covid passports (revealing a salient point about getting jabbed and proving it, to ensure live music can continue), and the relative silence of Southern crowds during a singalong set highlight “Fuck It Oh Yeah”. “I Wanna” (like so many of their numbers, a lyrical pop culture list) featured some Breeders-like grungy guitar riffery, “24 Eyes” was a terrific yelping amphetamine rush, and closer “Dickhead” came in like a glam stomp before taking flight to end a sneering, snarling, primitive yet totally fun set of fuzzed-up indie punk. Great stuff!

 A surprising set list too before a swift drive back, home at midnight… but then front door problems necessitated an emergency locksmith call-out (the second one I tried, after waiting 90 minutes in vain for the first one to call me back!). Bed at 2.30 then; a bit frazzled but buoyed after the lovely Lovely Eggs!