1,448 THE CURE, The Twilight Sad, The Joy Formidable, Cardiff Blackweir Fields, Wednesday 24th June 2026

 

How is it that I always see the Cure at a big outdoor gig on the hottest day of the year? After some umming and aahing, I’d booked to see 70’s taut new wavers turned eyeliner-sporting goth/pop crossover giants The Cure at Cardiff’s 35,000 capacity Blackweir Fields for two reasons really; firstly, it had been awhile since I last saw them (2018’s “BST” Hyde Park show, gig 1,095) and I wasn’t sure how much stamina veteran vocalist Robert Smith would have in the future for their usual 2 ½ hour extravaganza sets, and secondly, it’s my birthday! OK, it’s not as auspicious as last year (my 60^th of course, celebrated with a brilliant Gang Of Four show in London, gig 1,393), but should be a fun thing to do on the big day, right?

This however didn’t take into account another heatwave hitting the UK, so, like that scorched 2018 gig (when I took my shirt off on entry and didn’t put it back on until I got back to the car!) and my previous Cure “live” experience (1993’s equally hot “Great Xpectations”, waaay back at gig 244), high temperatures were expected with reports of 35 degrees at 5 p.m. doors! So, once again anticipating sharing a big field with hordes of grumpy and melting Goths, I set off for gig friend Robynne’s at 230. Robynne had kindly offered me a spare seat in their hired chauffeured car (no parking shenanigans? I’m up for that!), so, along with her son Kai and his 2 mates, I hopped in for a happily air-conditioned run down a baking hot M4, hitting traffic at the Newport “traffic event horizon” and crawling in the rest of the way! Our driver dropped us off at a garage 10 minutes North of the arena entrance so we wandered down, seeking shade wherever possible, getting in just after 5.30 into the large North-facing arena, just as openers The Joy Formidable kicked off their set. We went our separate directions and I headed down the front, house right, in the shade of the stage (!) as TJF vocalist “Ritzy” Bryan rounded off pacey 2^nd number “Cradle” and introduced the band, “from Yr Wyddgrug – Mold!” Hmmm, know it well, unfortunately…! The subsequent “Whirring” was a fine and pacey backbeat indie banger featuring a dynamic soaring chorus and an eerie and dissonant saw solo (!), but was sadly the only number for me to stand out from an otherwise quite average power-chord driven grungy set, most numbers also feeling overlong and outstaying their welcome somewhat. 

By this time my Bowie shirt was unbuttoned, and the simple act of walking to the gig in the 35 degree heat had made me sweat profusely – so much, that rivulets had run down my chest and onto my shorts, making me look like I’d pissed myself! Blimey! Took a walk to the back, finding my favourite thing of the day – a revolving water spray cannon! Ace! So I took a couple of cooling blasts before heading back in for Robert Smith’s “pet” support band, Scots The Twilight Sad, next up. Opener “Dead Flowers” set the tone with a gloomy, slow burn intro leading into a goth rock march, and 3rd number “VTr” (dedicated to their art guy, “a proud Welshman”!) featured a snappy drumbeat opening similar to Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control”, ceding to a more hypnotic post-punk groove propelled by a hard hitting performance from impressive former Honeyblood drummer Cat Myers. In fact, the propulsive and kinetic Myers was the best thing about this intense and dramatic set which, whilst evoking a real mood of heavy menace, was a little short on real tunes for me, although I enjoyed “VTr” and closer “Waiting For The Phone Call”, a growling beast with a Killing Joke “Pssyche” groove and the most impassioned vocal of the set from frontman James Graham. 

By then I’d run into occasional gig buddy Guy for a quick chat, and took another wander to bump into other folks. Unfortunately, despite normally being pretty good at this, and there being a whole horde of folks I knew present (Tim and siblings, Simon from Gloucester, Kate, Steffen, old school friend Andrew, and even Thea from the comic shop!) I completely struck out! I was however asked for a pic of my shirt by a chap for his Bowie-mad young niece which was nice, whilst the PA was also playing “Life On Mars”!

So, back to my house right spot about a dozen rows back as the clock ticked over to 10 past 8 and the taped noise of thunder and rain (which would actually have been welcome today!) heralded The Cure onstage. Robert Smith, black-clad, make up smeared and with a slight touch of recession in his unkempt back-combed mane, emerged last and wandered the full length of the stage, the goth King surveying his kingdom, as the band eased into elegiac, icy opener “Plainsong”, it suddenly feeling refreshingly cooler in the crowd! The eerie, stark and languid “Pictures Of You” followed, Smith delivering a fine vocal in his distinctive higher register pleading tones, before thanking the audience with, “Diolch!”

Objectively speaking, The Cure were utterly superb tonight. A real connoisseurs’ set delivered with clear-as-a-bell sound mix and pinpoint precision from a band clearly in top form after an acclaimed IOW Festy headliner set last week, augmented by startling backdrop visuals which, whilst not as retina-scalding as Devo’s last time out, were perfect accompaniment to the mood and vibe weaved by the band. But subjectively…? Well, I’m not a massive Cure fan by any means, loving their early taut, pacey New Wave material but losing them around the goth pop mid-late 80s and phasing in and out thereafter. So, whilst the early set was largely lapped up by the devoted (and rightly so), it seemed to settle into a well-played but mid-paced and monotone vibe for my casual ears, an early “In Your House” (“something we don’t play much,” according to Smith) even sounding like The Bunnymen’s “The Puppet” played at a slower speed!

 The lengthy instrumental opening to “The Push”, thereafter featuring Smith’s most impassioned vocal thus far, was a bit livelier, but then the gig broke out good and proper for me with “In Between Days” and a frankly joyful “Just Like Heaven”, which, despite a slight lyric ricket from Smith (“a combination of heat and environment – sometimes I forget I’m the one singing!”) was the first real essential track of the night. “Burn” featured some impressive tribal beats and jungle sounds and a wooden whistle solo from Smith, but “A Forest”, next up, was the set highlight by far, haunting, spooky and delivered with delicious insouciant and underlying menace. The suffocating and claustrophobic “Prayer For Rain” was the penultimate number of the set so I took a loo break, pitching up further right but closer for the lengthy encore.

Said 10 song encore (!) focussed mainly on that 80’s “goth pop” era, so I enjoyed the likes of the rather ironic “Hot Hot Hot” with it’s blaring funky synth hook and the clattering proto indie dance of “The Walk”, whilst totally blanking on the more throwaway “Close To Me” and frankly annoying “Lovecats”. However the pounding Iggy stomp of “Why Can’t I Be You” led into brilliant, yearning closer “Boys Don’t Cry”, Smith thanking us for “coming along and putting up with this day,” taking a lengthy ovation before doubtless heading for a cold shower! As for me, I’d taken a hike in search of water during the encore, feeling a little light-headed in the heat, and with my heel and knee both barking at me thanks to 5 hours straight standing up, I wandered slowly back, meeting my folks at the Blackweir Tavern afterwards and our driver in the same garage – apparently he’d slipped the owner a tenner to stay there! So a flyer out of the city got us home in a shade over 1 hour and 20, despite a couple of roadworks on the way. Thanks Robynne for the lift, which made the day immeasurably easier, and thanks to The Cure for an overall superb set and a fine way to spend my birthday. Maybe next time I’ll book to see them in Antarctica, though, because, as with my other 2 Cure “live” experiences, this one was Hot Hot Hot!

1,447 "THE COSMIC DE-EVOLUTION TOUR" featuring THE B-52S, DEVO, Rezillos, Lene Lovich, London The O2, Saturday 20th June 2026

 

A couple of big birds killed with one stone, this one; I’d long been familiar with these 2 long-lived veteran 70’s New Wave bands, namely Athens, GA kitsch college pop pioneers The B-52s, and Akron, OH’s mutant art troupe Devo, loving certain numbers by both and liking others fine, but not quite enough to shell out to see either band “live” on their admittedly rare (and usually expensive and London-only) forays across the pond. However, their announcement a couple of years back of a double-header “Cosmic De-Evolution” tour of the States piqued my interest, my reaction being, “ooh, I’d like to see that if they bring it over here…” So, when they actually did, I was true to my word, lining up my first ever gig at London’s cavernous (and slightly inaccessible) O2 Arena, scene of a 5-day hangover-inducing BT Y2K Team party binge during my only previous visit, in its’ former guise as The Millennium Dome! 

Regular gig friend and the ‘don’s own mutant punk queen Debby was up for this as well (no surprise really, Devo being her favourite band), so we booked balcony tix (the floor and first level seating prices being too spicy for us!) and headed off just after lunch, scooping up her friend Nigel on the way. Nigel, a chap I’ve known of since U18 Brunel times (!) but mainly by reputation only, proved quite the character, so the lengthy journey to our parking spot at Hayes & Harlington and onward via a swift Lizzie/ Jubilee line tube to North Greenwich was peppered with entertaining punk rock stories and anecdotes! Hit the huge dome itself just after 3, meeting up with a bunch of Deb’s Rebellion Festival “punk rock family” in the Stargazer pub (one of the many hostelries/ eateries skirting the edges of the O2) for a similarly enjoyable couple of hours of drinks and tales from the punk rock frontline! Debs’ friends Paul and Fi had 2 spare tix and Nigel arranged to sit with them, so I suggested that Debs also join them in their much better seats, down a level and opposite from our nosebleeds, also figuring I’d have a much better chance meeting Deb and Nigel afterwards, rather than Deb and myself having to track down our wayward companion! 

So we all headed in just after 6 and I ventured up and up.. and up… on my own to my vertigo-inducing Block 420 spot, plonking down just before the opening act. This purported “double header” was in fact a quadruple whammy, with a couple of similarly veteran and like-minded quirky punk acts on the undercard. So, on at 20 to 7, ten minutes late after a fiddly soundcheck and in front of a disappointingly sparse crowd in this all-seater arena, was 70’s oddball New Wave one hit wonder Lene Lovich. Her short set was plagued with quiet sound (at least in my rooftop seat!) and felt a little flat throughout, la Lovich even asking at one point, “are you all ready? Are you awake?” The proto Florence was all expansive of gesture and hand movement, and of course those octave straddling vocal gymnastics and yelps, but, the poppy “hit” “Lucky Number” aside, this was not a brilliant start, although in all honesty I wasn’t really expecting it to be… 

Met up with Thursday night’s gig buddy Howard (gig 1,447) and his charming daughter Tilly in the balcony walkway afterwards; Howard is a confirmed Spud-head (the nomenclature for Devo fans…!) so we enthused about the nights events before I popped back in for Scot’s 70’s New Wavers The Rezillos, next up at 7.20. Thankfully, the sound had been turned up for them, a rampaging punk opener of “Someone’s Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonight” sounding fulsome and powerful. The twin vocal attack of Fay Fife, all dayglo pink and black PVC, and her hefty and menacing leather biker-clad partner in crime Eugene Reynolds, were the visual focus throughout, and the early sci-fi doowop new wave stylings of “Destination Venus” was an early highlight. This was however topped by the later call and response hook of their “hit”, “Top Of The Pops”, also featuring Fay singing along with her younger self projected onto the big screen! Overall, a pretty good set which sagged slightly in the middle with a couple of newies but finished strongly thanks to the aforementioned “TOTP” and the frantic Ramones/ rockabilly rush of “Good Sculptures”. 

Took another break in the still-quiet walkway, and was offered a seat upgrade by an O2 employee! Result! So I headed down to my new 1^st level Block 111 seats, running briefly into Ant-Trouble mainman Mitchell and his lovely partner Beth, before taking a fine viewing spot, house right, for Devo at 8.10. A short film of their record company signing (or not?) culminated in the featured record exec welcoming, “my biggest career regret, Devo!” to the stage, the band kicking straight into top gear with a brash and beaty synth-propelled “Don’t Shoot” and a surprisingly thrusting and powerful sounding “Peek A Boo”. Great start! 

Devo were actually incredible tonight; I was expecting quirky mutant new wave numbers, retro 60’s sci-fi visuals (costumes and films) and odd, dyslexic time signatures, and got all of that. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was brilliantly sounding, powerful, punchy anthems, delivered with determined conviction by these Akron veterans… and I got that as well! The fabled flowerpot hats – sorry, energy domes – came out for the irresistibly groovy angular riff of “Girl U Want”; main vocalist Mark Mothersbaugh then announced, “in times like these, it’s more important than ever… to Whip It!” the subsequent “Whip It” being accompanied by retina-scalding colourful cartoon imagery; then after a brief intermission (during which we were entertained by a space film on the screen!) the band, yellow boiler-suited up, returned to deliver the tough, rocking powerpop of set highlight “Uncontrollable Urge”. A tense and claustrophobic “Mongoloid” featured a regimented backbeat and suitably moody vocal from co-singer Gerry Casale, before Mothersbaugh again queried, “do you believe in De-Evolution? The evidence is clear… Are We Not Men?” to a resounding response of, “we are Devo!” from the assembled Spud-heads, leading into the herky jerky descending backbeat of “Jocko Homo.” An almost Springsteen-esque anthemic rocker “Gates Of Steel” rounded off the set proper, the “Devo Corporate Anthem” heraldic fanfare preceding encore “Freedom Of Choice”, Mothersbaugh then pointedly leaving us with the advice, “Freedom of Choice – use it or lose it!”

Decided to wander around the first level walkway to see if my folks were hanging around outside their block, noticing that the entire back row of said block was unoccupied! So a brief cheeky chat with Customer Services got me my third seat of the night, in the Pepsi Deck at the back of Block 101, house left and in line with the stage. Result! Again! So, I was in situ on my comfy revolving seat for headliners The B-52s at 9.40, again welcomed onstage by a vintage film compilation from their younger days. The chirruping psych-pop of “Cosmic Thing” opened the set, some fine and clear call-and-response vocals from the impressively-maned and sequinned-up Kate Pierson and the more sardonic sounding Fred Schneider, before Kate announced, “Hello London! We’re the B-52s… but I guess you knew that…!” 

Of the 2 dual headliners, The B-52s were the band with which I was most familiar; initially not a fan but then warming up to their early taut mutant sci-fi college pop whilst then drifting a little on their subsequent hit era. So, like that Blondie gig in 2004 (gig 636) I was expecting a mix of the brilliant and the banal, which was pretty much what I got… “Give Me Back My Man” (always one of my absolute B-52s faves) therefore moved the groove factor up a few hundred notches after a somewhat flat “Mesopotamia”, keyboardist Cindy Wilson delivering a fine, plaintive vocal; “Roam”, whilst slightly lacking the bright vibrancy of the recorded version, still featured some lovely choral harmonies between Wilson and Pierson; then after a couple of okayish numbers, “Private Idaho” was terrific, the robotic rhythm and off-kilter hook building to a crescendo. I took a quick break during inevitable set closer “Love Shack” (sorry, but that one’s overplayed for me) then popped down the stairs to scoop Deb and Nigel up to my empty back row, using some space behind the seats to dance good and proper to utterly superb encores of a creepy, beepy “Planet Claire” and the doo-wop surf rockabilly and descending, yelping hook of “Rock Lobster”. A great way to finish an uneven but overall memorable and particularly well-sung set of retro new wave from these Athens veterans!

From our back row, we then got a quick exit from the O2 and onto the tube, getting back to the car at H&H just after midnight, only because the Lizzie line was surprisingly slow. A quick blast along the M4 singing raucously along to old U18 Brunel punk classics saw me drop the folks off and hit home at a slightly red-eyed 1.30. On the sofa recovering all day afterwards! Nonetheless,  a great day with splendid company throughout; and as for the bands themselves, they mainly lived up to my expectations, apart from Devo, who exceeded them by some distance and were comfortably my favourite band of the night. Either way, though, I’m glad I took the opportunity to kill off these 2 big birds!

1,446 HOME COUNTIES, Fuzz Council, Birmingham Hare and Hounds, Thursday 18th June 2026

A dual purpose gig, this; I was due to meet up with my esteemed gig buddy Howard, whom I met and became fast friends with on the momentous occasion of my 60^th Birthday Gang Of Four Forum gig (gig 1,393), to catch splendid R.E.M tribute band Stipe last month in his native Leamington. Unfortunately family commitments on his part precluded against that, but the man suggested a few other forthcoming gigs he was heading to, this one included, so I checked out the band in question and ultimately booked for this. So I get to check out an intriguing new lot in Bristol’s Home Counties, who on repeated listens to their sophomore 2025 album “Humdrum” overlay a melting pot of post-punk angular art rock and loose limbed, 80’s New Order-esque proto indie dance with lyrics reflecting the mundanity of directionless young adulthood in this fucked up world, and I also get to meet up with my friend. Sounds like a win-win…!

So I hit the road mid-afternoon for a sunny drive up the M40, picking Howard up then driving on to Kings Heath, street parking a short walk from the venue itself. Had a catch up with the man over an absolutely splendid Chicken Tikka Ceylon in Nauka 42, before we wandered around to this evocative and rambling old corner ale house venue, meeting up on the street benches outside with Howard’s nephew Jason, who works as a performance coach for the British American Football Association! Much chat about American sports subsequently ensued, before we wandered in and upstairs to the venue at 8 p.m., just as openers Fuzz Council were kicking into their set. Initially plying an echoey and hard-hitting mix of stomping glam and 60’s psych rock, they then upped the tempo with some mid-set ragged garage indie/punk, including a fine hooky “Subscribe”. A later “Genocide Smile” was my set highlight, recalling Bauhaus’ version of “Third Uncle” with its’ dark, pounding metronomics, and the thrashy punk closer “Talk It Out” even reminded these old ears of The Dickies! Overall, a decent if embryonic opening set…

Took a wander forward in this dark, dingy and evocative upstairs room (which for me resembled Bristol Louisiana’s upstairs hotbox in size, orientation and temperature!), pitching up a couple of rows back from the front, house right, as the young 6-piece Home Counties took the stage to an echoey backing track. Ebullient co-vocalist Will Harrison immediately led the charge into new album opener “Take You Back”, its’ clattering dance beat overlaid by dual call-and-response vocals from Harrison and fellow co-singer Lois Kelly. Oldie “Bethnal Green” followed, a more upbeat and angular post-punk track, featuring some toy organ embellishment and an impassioned vocal from the wide-eyed Harrison, detailing the humdrum (sic) nature of a night out in Bethnal, and fellow first album track “Exactly How It Seems” kept up a ferocious initial pace with an itchy, insistent 80’s funk vibe recalling the likes of Hue and Cry for me! 

This was a splendid performance from this young and promising band, showcasing all aspects of their musical oeuvre, from the herky jerky esoteric Gang Of Four new wave-isms of earlier tracks such as “Dad Bod”, to the much looser-limbed and dancey new material such as an early title track “Humdrum”, the squashy synth intro subsumed by a frantic cowbell dance beat and a memorable combative choral hook from Kelly. And the enthusiasm with which this set was delivered was simply infectious, the dual vocalists regularly jumping in time with the front row dancers, and even getting this old cynic to move along with the rhythm! “Meet Me In The Flat Roof”, a critique on gentrification, was a funky mid-set fave with a staccato one-note synth riff; “You Break It, You Bought It” was a tinny and wiry chant-along; and an acerbic and propulsive oldie in “Back To the 70s” rounded off a hectic and fun set, the band briefly diving offstage before returning with a taut yet bubbling, New FADS/ Paris Angels-esque encore of “Uptight”.

Lois kindly sorted me with a list before chats with the merch-stand bound band, particularly a lengthy chat about influences, the West Country and curry (!) with gregarious bassist/ keyboardist Bill. Farewell to Jason before Howard and I hit the road, then I dropped the man off before an inky but unencumbered Fosse Way dash got me home just after midnight, way earlier than feared. So, a great catch up with a good friend in Howard, a splendid gent whom I’ve only met twice but already feel like I’ve known for years. And a feisty, frantic and fun gig from a very promising lot in Home Counties; I’m not normally a big “indie dance” person but I couldn’t help but be converted by their tunes, hooks and enthusiasm. Great work folks! 

1,445 OVERPASS, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Tuesday 9th June 2026

 

It’s taken until halfway through the year for my first gig at my reigning “most visited in 2025” venue, namely Bristol Rough Trade’s scuzzy back room venue, for one of their new album release show/ meet and greet events… Truth to tell, I’ve not caught up with much new music so far in 2026, the increasing morass of anodyne indie landfill generally leaving me cold. However, I was up for this one, celebrating the debut release from an interesting new lot in Brummies Overpass. I’d picked up on them via their 5 tracker EP “Dependent” last year, enjoying the Editors-esque post-punk and “October”-era U2 atmospherics, and whilst that occasionally strayed close to that yawing indie landfill pit (at least one track recalling Stereophonics, albeit when they were good), there was more than enough decent soaring tuneage to pull them comfortably away from the edge (viz. leadoff track “Be Good To Yourself”, a comfortable entry on my “Best of 2025” CD). So, which direction will their de facto debut album “Elsewhere, Always” (the subject of tonight’s release show) take them in? Intrigued to find out, I booked up for this…

I did actually give it a late call though, as I developed a bit of a headache in the afternoon, but, Anadin-ed up, I went for it anyway, leaving just after 6 for a sunny drive down and parking in Rupert Street. First thing to note was that, since my last visit to RT, they’d clearly spent a fuckton of cash on renovating the space behind the venue room, with a new entrance, swanky bar and a wall partitioning off the venue from the record shop itself, giving it a more self-contained “gig venue” feel. The room itself was already quite full for this sold-out event, and, like contemporaries Inhaler, Overpass seem to attract quite a young crowd… anyway, I found fellow “veteran” gig-goer friend Jeremy down the front, house right, and we caught up. Overpass then joined us onstage at the appointed hour to quite the enthusiastic welcome from their young massive, and proceeded to play us the whole of the new album, start to finish… 

So then, Overpass and the new album material… rousing and soaring atmospheric indie guitar anthems, or trad-hokum “indie-by-numbers” blah? Well, the truth is often somewhere in between, and I definitely felt that in the early stages of their performance, although I’m happy to admit my views might have been coloured by the low-key, understated nature of the performance (I’m always happier when bands really crank it up and go for it), and also by my headache… “Union Station” was a fine starter, hazy and melancholy, and the early “Is This Real?” featured a pacy backbeat from drummer Jake Bishop on his pared-back kit, but the subsequent couple of numbers, despite being lustily sung back to the band by the front rows, passed me by a little, I’m afraid, and I was waiting for a real “banger” to arrive…

And happily, one did, in “Forever You”, an absorbing and building slow burn verse leading to a massive soaring choral hook delivered with conviction by vocalist Max Newbold, and recalling U2’s “resurrection” track “Beautiful Day” to these old ears. Great stuff! The subsequent “Spinning” was also a goodie, a deliciously brooding and morose beast recalling “The Bends”-era Radiohead (i.e. when they were still good and before they disappeared up their own arses), preceded by the otherwise taciturn Newbold sincerely thanking the crowd for getting the album to number 3 in the midweek charts. Then closer “Heaven” topped even “Spinning” for sweeping melancholy, its’ metronomic build and widescreen chorus resembling windswept Celtic masters Idlewild, ensuring a strong finish to a slightly uneven but overall still very promising performance from this still-young and developing band.

By then I’d bade farewell to Jeremy and was at the back, in prime position for a good spot in the signing queue; first, actually! A few words with a polite band about their forthcoming Bristol Electric show in November (already booked for that) before I hit the still-light M4 for a return home to the ‘don at an early 9.15! So, parking the understated delivery and my muzzy head, this was still a very promising and potential-laden showing. Like Crystal Tides and Bono’s lad’s lot Inhaler, Overpass have oven-ready stadium tuneage aplenty in their metaphorical song larder, with even the numbers which drifted by for me being subject to rousing singalongs tonight. So let’s see how this material sounds at the Electric in November, when they (hopefully) really crank it up and go for it…!

1,444 SUGAR, J Robbins, London Kentish Town Forum, Saturday 23rd May 2026

 

“I want to see if people are still interested…” This, according to a “Rolling Stone” interview with the man himself, was the typically understated reason behind US alternative rock innovator and icon Bob Mould’s scarcely believable but extraordinarily welcome decision last October to reunite his short-lived but seminal 90’s post-grunge power trio Sugar for a select few gigs. Honestly, whatever the reason, don’t care, I’m there! An initial slew of US/UK gigs were announced, including a double-header at Kentish Town Forum, where (in its’ former Town And Country Club guise) I’d had my ears blown off for the first time by this lot back in September 1992 (gig 221), so I booked a couple of tix for the first, Saturday, date, for me and interested party son Logan the second they hit the O2 pre-sale. Having sold both dates out in predictably short order, Sugar later announced a second tranche of shows, one at the much nearer Bristol Electric, but by then we were in a headspace for a day up the Smoke, so stuck with the original plan!

Some extra tix became available late on, and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, we were joined for Logan’s long-time friend Chloe for the day out, and for her first gig – ever! Hoo boy, talk about a baptism of fire…! We headed off just after midday down a sun-baked M4, parking up in the usual Kentish Town pre-booked parking spot, and tubing down to a packed and boiling Camden. Old friend Thom was up from Bristol, so we met up and chatted in the shade of Camden Boxpark whilst the youngsters shopped, ostensibly for shorts for Logan (my errant son going against parental advice and wearing heavy jeans out, then realising his error in the heat!). Street food in a Camden Market pod, then back to the motor to dump purchases and on to the Bull And Gate for much-needed pre-gig refreshments. Spotted a familiar face there, in the ‘don’s veteran punk band Charred Hearts’ estimable mainman Dermot, the man joining us for a chat outside which, when old friend Keith showed up, turned into a Swindon old school punk rock summit meeting! 

Eventually hit the queue and, after a false start, got in on the O2 Priority and bagged barrier spots, house right for a change – it’s Bob’s side, so there! A slow fill took us to just before 8, when we were joined by solo support J Robbins, former vocalist of 90’s post-hardcore grunge-adjacent US lot Jawbox. A band I didn’t know back then, I enjoyed J’s intricate, almost baroque guitar picking on yearning opener “Anodyne”, likening it to Massachusetts folk rabble Cordelia’s Dad, and giving the man props for good use of the word “supine”! A surprisingly tuneful “Exquisite Corpse”, recalling late period Posies, was juxtaposed with the goth horror of the lyric, and whilst some numbers seemed too intricate for their own good (viz. “Outside The Aviary”), J’s self-effacing charm generally won out. “Dear Leader”, a vitriolic anti-Trump protest song (“I found out I share a birthday with Trump – I very much do not love it!”) was well-received, and the off-kilter Primus rhythm of Jawbox’ hit “Savory” was preceded by recollections of that 90’s post-grunge record industry feeding frenzy. A strident paean to his adopted Baltimore closed out an engaging set from a likeable 90’s survivor simply glad to still be playing in such venues, a closing remark being, “if you told me back then I’d be playing on this show, I’d have shit a brick!”

Passed the interval, as the place properly filled up, with some lively rock chat with Kurt, who’d flown in from his native Alberta, Canada for the gig as he refused to fly South! Good on you, fella! The lights dimmed and, accompanied by The Beatles’ “She Said, She Said” as jaunty intro music, Bob and the boys wandered nonchalantly onstage, plugged in and positively tore into the rock-solid opening riff and rhythm to a brilliantly strident “The Act We Act”, the years falling away. “Act” was, as expected, followed by the creepy “Debaser” bass intro to an equally awesome “A Good Idea”, the “Copper Blue” opening triad being completed with the four-alarm fire ringing opening of a quite magnificent “Changes”. What. A. Start!

“We had to pick the hottest weekend of the Summer to do this, right?” quipped an unusually voluble Bob, before his pocket dynamo buddy, bassist Dave Barbe, lent his vocals to a more languid “Company Book”, the pace and intensity inevitably dropping after that breathless opening (although that was admittedly due to the sheer incandescent magnificence of the opening 3, rather than any shortcomings from the subsequent material). “We’re from the god-forsaken USA,” admitted Bob to pantomime boos before the anthemic “Hoover Dam”, realigning the crowd with, “we’re here to rock, we’re here to have fun!” The descending riff of a ragged “Where Diamonds Are Halos” was again overlaid by Dave’s vocals, nasal and much lighter in comparison to his bandleader’s guttural and stentorian roar; “Your Favorite Thing” was discordant yet insanely groovy and singalong; and the hurtling instrumental “Clownmaster” almost turned into the outro of “Debaser”! Throughout all of this Bob, as ever, prowled the stage like a caged bear and fired riff after riff into the hot and frenzied auditorium like a sub-machine gun, a beatific grin never far from his snowy beard-embellished features. And then it got better… oh boy, did it… 

“We’ve got a couple more numbers for you,” Bob deadpanned before the gyroscopic centrifuge of a savage “Tilted”, powered by some dynamic drum fills from strongarmed veteran sticksman Malcolm Travis; then set closer “JC Auto” topped even that, a fist-pumping, undulating, orgiastic and cacophonous set highlight, Bob delivering one final thunderous vocal roar then pausing to deliver a HHH-style water spray before joining his comrades offstage, leaving his beleaguered guitar squealing feedback in his wake. Woah.

As if deliberately planned to clear the air after that visceral set-closing double, the encores then showcased arguably Sugar’s “poppiest” moments; the delicious descending bassline of “Helpless”, an irresistibly infectious “Gee Angel” and an utterly joyous “If I Can’t Change Your Mind”, rounding off a quite superb showing, Bob and Dave then taking deserved bows. By then we’d been joined at the front by Andrew, vocalist of the excellent Stayawakes, although a combination of my fruitlessly trying for a list (being used tomorrow, fair enough…) and his early train conspired against a lengthier catch up. So we met the balcony-bound Keith in the foyer, bade farewell to Thom and achily wandered back to the car (no mosh tonight, but my dancing and singing along in situ was enough!), reflecting on the gig during a happily swift exit from the Capital and drive home for 1 a.m. A quite superb day out and a triumphant return from Sugar, all agreed, with the opening 3 and final 5 numbers particularly memorable. Either way, one thing is crystal clear… yes Bob, we most definitely ARE still interested!

1,443 GIRL SCOUT, My First Time, Bristol Thekla, Thursday 21st May 2026

 

About time I get to see this lot in their own right; after a false start last year (I had tickets for their Southampton Heartbreakers gig last February, but a combination of Rachel being in hospital and too much else going on precluded my attendance), Stockholm’s fledgling indie-popsters Girl Scout finally get a headlining gig on my Dance Card, following 3 impressive support slots with Coach Party and Alvvays. This one is part of a UK jaunt promoting debut album “Brink”, which on initial listens (on Spotify; I bought one tonight, honest!) is bursting with the characteristics which permeated their 3 “live” shows so far; loud, crunchy and driving guitars, mood/tempo changes without losing that inherent tuneful indie-pop core, and hooks aplenty delivered with aplomb by vocalist Emma Jansson and her charges. An album where, as soon as I’ve decided which is my favourite track, the next one comes along and makes me rethink it (I’m sure I said something similar about Alvvays one time…), so this promises to be a banging gig… 

A last-minute text to old gig buddy Andy “Beef” prompted him to get a ticket, so we headed down a sun-kissed M4, getting in a surprisingly quiet venue about 20 minutes after doors and grabbing a stage spot house right, under the ceiling-suspended speakers. I’d actually (for once!) done a bit of due diligence on the support band, so was anticipating their arrival prompt at 7.30. Bristol 5-piece My First Time (or MFT, it wasn’t entirely clear which) were said band, bursting into life with opener “Brand New”, the urgent alarm bell opening subsequently submerged by a fuzzed-out riff and angsty, dynamic barked vocals from “singer” Isaac Stroud-Allen, setting the tone for their set. Subsequent numbers, e.g. funky mid-set highlight “The Kids Are”, featured a thick bass-heavy rhythm underpinned by the impressive fretwork of the bouncy Naia Jones, and whilst I’m not usually a fan of the more overt rap-adjacent vocal delivery style, I must admit Stroud-Allen’s rabble-rousing vocals suited the dynamic, confrontational material and terrace chant hooks. The penultimate growl of “Picture Of Health” was my highlight of a hard-hitting indie dance set which was rapturously received by the hometown crowd (the singer often abandoning the stage to join in with a full-on mosh) and recalled for me the indie/dance collision of recent faves Home Counties, and even old 80’s lot Age Of Chance! Good stuff, hopefully my first time with My First Time won’t be my last time!

The place got appreciably quieter after MFT as Girl Scout set up, but was happily well populated for the Stockholm indie-popsters’ unheralded entrance at 8.30. They eased into the apt “Intro”, initially weaving a pastoral strumalong vibe until the huge grungy riffs kicked in, then the strident Pixies-ish riff of “Un Huh” led into a brilliantly taut, bright yet hard-edged “ Same Kids” and a similarly galloping “Song 1”, underpinned by an undulating synth riff building to a soaring chorus and middle 8. Great start! 

“Brink” itself largely falls between the dynamic indie bounce of Aussies The Beths and the textural, layered dreampop of Canadians Alvvays, which has pretty much been the area occupied by Girl Scout on previous “live” outings. This time, however, there was much more of the seething power and punkish delivery of erstwhile tourmates Coach Party in their performance, with most numbers sounding notably heavier, grungier and harder-edged than on record (although I confess our position, with my head practically in the speakers, may have had an influence here…). And the double denim-clad munchkin Emma was a revelation, her oft girlish and airy vocals regularly usurped by a red-faced, primal and lengthy howl, underlining the more in-your-face show. The mid-set “Dead Dog”, preceded by Emma exhorting Bristol to dance, was a thrilling indie banger; outlier “Ugly Things” (“about my morning commute!”) diffused the mood with some Alvvays-like wispier dreampop; and the herky-jerky “stop start beep beep” rhythm of an almost jaunty “Operator” was followed by set highlight, a brilliant, widescreen and anthemic “Crumbs”. 

The metronomic punk of closer “I Just Needed” gave us a breather before the encore of punchy oldie “Do You Remember Sally Moore?” rounded up a surprisingly powerful performance from a band really coming into their own. Grabbed a list then met Bristol gig buddy Louise queueing up for signatures and pics from a breathless, sweaty but ebullient band. Got out of the car park before getting towed (its closing after midnight, I think we were ok for time really!) and home for ¼ to 11. After this performance, I think “Brink” is going to be a feature in the “Best Of 2026” reckoning, and Girl Scout have well and truly joined their former tourmates Coach Party and Alvvays as “live” must-sees in their own right!

1,442 THOMAS DOLBY “Iconic 80’s”, Martin McAloon, Bristol O2 Academy, Sunday 17th May 2026

 

A surprisingly quick return to “live” UK work for US based quirky 80’s synth-pop boffin, technological entrepreneur and Renaissance Man, and world’s finest wig wearer, Mr. Thomas Dolby! Having admired him since the 80’s, I finally broke my “live” Dolby duck in August 2024 (gig 1,342), being mainly attracted by the chance to see one of my favourite synthpop tracks, the mighty “Europa And The Pirate Twins”, delivered “live”. Brilliant though it was, it was but one of several highlights from that evening, so I was up for more Dolby “live” shenanigans. This, however, promised something completely different; a smattering of his 80’s works, sure, but interspersed with what appeared to be (on “setlist.fm”, at least), 3 “Symphony” medley pieces featuring random selections of various non-Dolby 80’s hits, under the strapline of “Iconic 80’s – My Personal Recollections”. So what awaits tonight; a warped genius move, or a Jive Bunny medley car crash? Mr. Dolby, I’m trusting in you tonight… 

A relaxing day after a late one last night, seeing punk author and similar cultural Renaissance man John Robb deliver an entertaining book talk in Corsham with Logan, saw me setting off solo down the M4, getting to the Academy 15 minutes after doors and settling a row back, slightly house left, next to Keith, a veteran Dolby fan from Hereford. Some entertaining music chat saw us up to support Martin McAloon at 10 to 8; to say I wasn’t looking forward to McAloon, erstwhile 80’s cerebral pop auteurs Prefab Sprout’s bassist, was quite the understatement, as he was utterly terrible as Dolby’s wingman last time out. However from the off there was a considerable improvement; introducing himself with the wry, laconic quip of, “40 years ago I used to be in a band called Deacon  Blue…” he then kicked into the acoustic gallop of purposeful opener “Faron Young” which was a million times better than before. “Looking For Atlantis” (“in the style of Elvis in a swamp” according to the man) was equally groovy, and the later “Appetite” and “Cars And Girls” were really good actually, showcasing da Sprout’s soulful ear for a hooky tune. OK, there were still a few bum notes, both guitar and vocal, and the rambling McAloon still came across somewhere between Catweazle and the “vow of silence” guy in the pit in Monty Python’s “Life Of Brian”, but overall this was an entertaining acoustic interlude, only slightly spoiled by a messy closing run-through of “King Of Rock’n’Roll”, with McAloon trying to sing 3 different songs in the chorus!

 More chat with Keith, and a brief greeting with old friend Martin, on duty in the photo pit tonight, saw us up to 9.10, the single synth note intro greeting Dolby onstage in front of a sadly half full Academy (balcony closed tonight too), then morphing into an initially stripped back “Blue Monday”, the song bursting into life at its denouement. The synth pitter patter of a dramatic “One Of Our Submarines” followed a lengthy preamble about Thomas being contacted by the Navy to correct the premise of the song, then by a salvage team looking to recover his uncle’s sub (the subject of the song)! Then it was “Symphony” time… 

Dolby gave a lengthier exposition as to the premise of this idea; currently teaching film music in a Baltimore University, he’d been prompted by his students questioning about the 80’s to write a symphony reflecting his personal journey through that era (“[turns out] I was always a frustrated symphonic composer”), weaving together personally meaningful songs by other artists with visual interpretations of key events. Introducing a 3-piece band “onstage” (including Ana Pshokina, a Ukranian bassist projected onto the screen via TikTok, as she’s been denied a UK visa), he then asked for social media discretion on the set-list and no filming for this still work-in-progress project (which I observed at the time and like to think I'm still observing now, as any particular songs I mention below from these pieces have already been mentioned online, on setlist.fm at least...) then we were off…

So, genius or car crash? Well, the truth is usually somewhere in between, but I have to say I enjoyed the “Symphony” pieces more often than not; at best they were seamless multimedia “experiences”, with the musical accompaniment (certain songs only briefly “referenced” with a couplet or riff rather than actually played, recalling old 80’s Level 3 DJ Dave Bumford’s “mix-in, mix-out” antics!), and projected films augmenting each other well. The segue between “White Wedding” and “Love Will Tear Us Apart” was particularly notable, with Princess Diana’s Wedding then older, more haunted face projected on screen, as was the “Billie Jean” rhythm underpinning a monologue from Dolby about a visit he made to Michael Jackson’s LA Mansion. I also enjoyed the “New Year’s Day”/ “Killing Moon” segues and the move from an eerie electronic “How Soon Is Now”, through “Shout” to Peter Gabriel’s “Don’t Give Up”, this section sung beautifully by Pshokina and dedicated, poignantly, to her home country, with haunting war images as accompaniment. 

“Don’t Dream It’s Over” rounded off what, for me, was an uneven but brave and unusual attempt at an 80’s musical and visual personal retrospective, which never felt like a gratuitous “cover medley” popularity grab, and seemed well received overall by tonight’s audience. But then we were back to Dolby’s own material; a reggae-tinged “My Brain Is Like A Sieve”, featuring “virtual” guest vocalist Jason Mraz, preceded my highlight, a brilliant, undulating if slightly understated “Europa And The Pirate Twins”, then the quirky funk of set closer “She Blinded Me With Science”, Dolby taking a lengthy bow at its conclusion.

Encores of an acerbic and yelping sonic melting pot of “Hyperactive” and a smoother, eerie and almost elegiac “Airwaves” closed a 1 hour 50 performance, by which time I’d bade farewell to Keith and was at the back for a quick getaway (no set-lists, no point hanging at the front!). An amazing all-green light run out of Bristol (for once!) got me home for 11.45, listening to Aaron Rai’s USPGA win on the radio and reflecting on the night. “Europa” and the subsequent numbers were great as ever, and the “Symphonies” were much better than feared. Would I have preferred a full Dolby set? Probably… Was I glad that I wasn’t put off going altogether? Definitely! Trust the boffin; the mad musical synthpop scientist Mr. Thomas Dolby!