609 THE DAMN PERSONALS, Runner And The Thermodynamics, SPACESHOTS, American Car, TT The Bear's Place, Cambridge, MA USA, Tuesday 30 September 2003

Billed as a last chance to "Smoke Em While You Can", before Cambridge follows NYC's example and bans smoking in all places of employment, including (amazingly) pubs and clubs, this is also the last Boston gig for Rachel and myself, for this trip. So we get in early, at 8.45, paying to get in after getting bumped from another Damn Personals guest-list! D'oh! We run into Spaceshots boys Patrick Emswiler and Joe McMahon, catching up on my recent health events. We then get a drink and a pew while American Car play the early set. I like their style - starting off with a song about smoking - but we largely ignore their old school FM rock set after that.

We run into "awesome" Tom Polce, chatting with Josh Lattanzi and Derek Skanky, as we wander onto the dancefloor to see the Spaceshots. I tell Tom that we'd heard that the best-sounding record from Boston this year is the Polce-produced Spaceshots CD. Tom chats, and tells us he hopes they live up to the hype. So do we!

We're treated to a few 1950's pro-smoking adverts, which are quite jolly in a "Pathe News" kind of way, promoting smoking's health benefits (!), before the Spaceshots come on. And when they do, jaws drop immediately with an absolutely stunning opener, "Angelesque", which packs too many words into the chorus line and too much brilliantly simple tunefulness into the song for its' own good. The Spaceshots are great - Patrick is a real star, confident and controlled, and the band chemistry between himself, faithful cohort Ben on drums, Big Joe, and Ed's friend Toirm on guitar, is perfect. Another great, tuneful, hooky powerpop band with huge choruses and fresh ideas from Boston - just what do they put into the water here? This strident, toughened up set has us smiling and more than lives up to the promise; more so as Patrick, who later gives us a copy of the CD (cool!) tells us this is only their, "fourth or fifth gig!"

We chat to Pat then get drinks from Pete Caldes - working the TTs bar tonight! - before Runner And The Thermodynamics' set. They do their best to live up to their name, with an energetic performance, but have a very derivative, zeitgeisty Stones/ Stooges garage rock sound, with little to differentiate them from the likes of, say, Jet or the Von Bondies.

The Damn Personals, now minus Jimmy Jax and with a new spindly bass-man instead, then quickly set up and kick-start their set at 11.30. They open with a newie which then merges into my favourite, the incendiary "Better Way", and it becomes clear they're here to rock, in the most furious, determined and Damn Personal way possible. Much like The Gravel Pit on our first night here this time around, this set is as raggedy-arsed as all hell, The Damn Personals walking the fine line between rock genius and chaos with an incendiary performance, the essence of rock and roll. "Fucking In NYC" is the epitome of this performance, all huge awesome hooks and committed powerful rendition. An unexpected "Models And Airliners", with its' clarion call of "We are New England till the day that we die!" is the highlight for me of an awesome set, which ends with Anthony leaping off the speaker stack next to drummer Mike!

We then say goodbye to whomever we can find, then taxi back to our digs for the last time, for an early flight back to Blighty. Another great Boston trip climaxed in a perfect way by the Spaceshots and the Damn Personals!

610 STIFF LITTLE FINGERS, plus support, Oxford Zodiac, Tuesday 7 October 2003

After returning from Boston, it didn't take long to get back into UK gigging! I spotted this one on wegottickets.com, and roped in fellow old punk The Big Man, who joined me instead of a reluctant Rachel. He drove and we hit the half-full venue at 7.30 to find we were amongst the youngest punters there! Stayed in the bar during the terrible young support acts' set. The black beret-clad, boggly eyed singer was a total dick!

Rich and I then bagged a spot, stage left, and took in the vintage punk rock PA soundtrack (UK Subs, Slaughter and the Dogs, Johnny Thunders) whilst reflecting on the fact of those around us - and ourselves of course - growing old disgracefully! SLF joined us onstage at 9.45, via their familiar, anthemic intro music, which got the punks down the front jumping. Clad in matching bright blue shirts, with Jakes' shirt sporting the word "Elvis", and bassist Bruce Foxton's bearing a print of Joe Strummer's face, they then launched into a new number, "Strummerville", a strident and entirely appropriate tribute to the late Clash vocalist. A mixture of old and new followed, the early numbers notable for a folky "Each Dollar A Bullet" about the IRA's US funding, and a jagged "Roots Rockers".

However, after "Bits Of Kids", which Jake introduced as a "nearly hit", the band noticeably upped their commitment and passion level, and ripped through the final half-dozen numbers, all oldies, with heightened punk rock venom. A breathless "Tin Soldiers" was my highlight, but it was all good stuff, matching anything I've seen so far this year for power, commitment and dynamism, The clarion call to arms of "Alternative Ulster", still as true today as ever, ended the first encore, and the final "Suspect Device" was almost incidental after that. Nevertheless, Stiff Little Fingers once again proved that old punk rockers don't fade away, they still burn as fiercely as ever!

611 SEBADOH, SJ Esau, Bristol Louisiana, Thursday 16 October 2003

Went along to this one anticipating an intriguing night of melancholy from one of US Alt-rock's stalwarts, old misery-trousers himself Lou Barlow. The "Acoustic Show" billing for this gig at least meant we were spared some of band-mate Jason Lowenstein's more "rawk" excesses! So we hit the venue at 8.30, the place already full in anticipation of this sell-out show. Got a stage-left spot for SJ Esau, a painfully young John Linnell (They Might Be Giants) lookalike with simple, stupid songs and a weird effects pedal. A lot of his stuff should've been left in his bedroom dustbin, however.

Lou Barlow took the stage at 9.20 and proceeded to sit there on his own for 10 minutes (!) before being joined by his faithful lieutenant Jason, who allegedly, "thought he (Lou) was still in the bathroom!" Thereafter, their set was very entertaining; musically quiet, sombre and generally melancholy as expected, with Lou repeatedly requesting to turn his guitar down, but in between the avalanche of songs both Lou and Jason revealed not a little amount of humour with their banter. "I love damp and cool, so put me on a plane to England, baby," was one of Lou's classic lines, as was the way they both dealt with a dickhead down the front who had a wife fixation (?!). The audience, sensing the vibe, joined in ("This may be our last UK date for awhile," said Lou, prompting a wag to reply, "well, you're not getting any younger!") and I got in on the act too, advising a confused Jason that Lou's "in his cups" line was a Shakespearian reference to being pissed!

Musically,the introspective "On Fire" and the inevitable heartbreak of "Soul And Fire" were highlights, as was a bizarre number which climaxed with both singers shouting, "the oven is my friend!" Attempts afterwards to get Jason to give me the set-list were unsuccessful ("it's the only one we have, and we're off to Holland now, otherwise, totally"), but this didn't detract (much) from a surprisingly funny and entertaining hour and a half!

612 SILVER SUN, Marie Willson, Cracatilla, London Camden Barfly, Monday 20 October 2003

Yes, that does say Silver Sun! Rachel checked the Way Ahead ticket website which revealed a comeback gig from the late 90's faves, so we decided to break our self-imposed London exile and get tickets! Left at 5ish, and despite the new M4 speed monitoring system we parked on Camden High Street just before 7.45 and hit the venue early doors.

Popped upstairs for this busy early doors gig (another sell-out!) and walked in halfway through Cracatilla's set. A young Scouse trio with a charismatic black vocalist, they "kept it real" with some punchy strum-along pop tunes, the first of which recalled the psychedelic sweeps and swirls of early Love. A good level of potential here, well received by the audience. More so than could be said for the inappropriate Marie Willson, a scantily clad blonde Christina/Britney wannabee playing a clumsy rehash of commercialised punky pop, with more than a little r'n'b thrown in, and with the fake sincerity of an Avril Lavigne. Manufactured to the eyeballs, she'll probably be huge, although with her 2 stock moves (arm straight ahead, ruffling hair) she reminded me of the appalling Transvision Vamp's equally appalling (and equally fake) Wendy James.

Silver Sun came to rescue us from this, however; on at 10 like they'd never been away, and straight into "Golden Skin" to the huge delight of this enthusiastic crowd. Initially, they were raw and ragged musically, but the harmonies, led by the original helium voiced popster James Broad (Justin Hawkins, listen and learn), were as impeccable as ever. Raunchier new numbers sat well with the summery pop oldies, proving that thankfully their return promises more of the same, guv! "Pipsqueak" was great, as they warmed to their task as the set progressed, Buddy Holly lookalike James, increasingly sweaty, expressing the thoughts of the band by saying, "I've missed this - you guys are fantastic!" Great to have you back, boys!

A couple of encores later, we hit the road after a welcome, if ragged, comeback show from a much-missed band. Tonight we partied like it was 1997!

613 HOT HOT HEAT, Franz Ferdinand, Fiery Furnaces, Bristol University Anson Rooms, Monday 27 October 2003

We gratefully exploited another opportunity to see Vancouver's rising stars, bopping down the M4/M32 beat route to Bristol early doors with friends! Queued up on arrival at 20 to 8, which luckily didn't hold us up too long on our way to the bar!

Popped into the hall to check out openers Fiery Furnaces. An oddball mix of quirky New Wave, Stereolab-like metronomic-ness (metronomy?) and 80's German keyboard pop (?), and fronted by a female resembling a young Patti Smith, I warmed to them despite myself. I quite liked their number which included the lyrics, "when I was single my pockets did jingle." Rach hated them! Stayed put for the entrance of Franz Ferdinand at 9; "We are the new Scottish Gentry," proclaims one of their numbers and if so, then they've got some pretty big boots to fill (The Skids, Scars, Associates, Close Lobsters for 4, just off the top of my head). Once again, however, they showed potential for the job with a more confident and coherent set than before, whilst retaining the intriguing jerky New Wave influences of yore. With a sound reminiscent of XTC's second album "Go 2", they're developing nicely into a name to watch, and may well merit their "New Scottish Gentry" tag before too long.

Moved to a good vantage point stage left for the entrance of Hot Hot Heat at 10. Again, all black-clad and tousled, they kicked off their set in an energetic, kinetic way with the edgy "Talk To Me, Dance With Me". It took a couple of numbers for the sound to bed in, but by the excellent "No Not Now", they were on it. Again the set was upbeat, bright, catchy, danceable and sing-along pop from a very talented bunch of kids destined for bigger and better things, played with verve and enthusiasm. "More For Show", which recalled The Smiths' "This Charming Man", was a mid-set highlight, but once again they saved the best for last - the final encore "Bandages" brought the house down and brought an end to another ridiculously fun set from Hot Hot Heat. More fun than a barrel-load of monkeys, and performing the welcome task of bringing XTC-influenced pop to a new generation, Hot Hot Heat are hot hot hot, and they're going to be huge huge huge!

614 JULIAN COPE'S "ROME WASN'T BURNED IN A DAY", Sunburned Hand Of The Man, London Hammersmith Lyric Theatre, Thursday 30 October 2003

A "Guardian" piece alerted us to the return of the Arch-Drude, so we sorted tickets for the one of the 3 advertised "Demential Nights Of Barbarian Rock'N'Roll" we could get to, and broke our London curfew again! Rachel picked me up from work and we drove down in filthy weather and heavy traffic, parking in an NCP by 7.30 and finding this renovated theatre venue easily. Got drinks in, then took our seats - excellent front row ones in the Upper Circle balcony, A1 and A2, right by the door. I mention this as this becomes significant later...

Massachusetts' Sunburned Hand Of The Man, support, were an odd post-rock 10-piece with various members wandering, seemingly aimlessly, around the stage, picking up and putting down instruments and throwing them in the air at random. Musically, they sounded like one long introduction, with moody psychedelic overtones similar to the Doors' most unhinged excesses. Weird, but ignore-able! Stayed put afterwards in anticipation of Cope's entrance, expected for 9. Billed as an "electric show", this still didn't necessarily tell us what to expect from this most unorthodox and chameleonic of artists, except that we should expect the unexpected!

Finally, lights down and curtains up at 9, revealing a stark stage set; then the band emerged from a hole in the stage, all fluorescent shirts and boots. Cope emerged last, revealing his latest stage mutation (big boots, blue camo fatigues, topped by a striped painted forehead and a beard you could hide a badger in) which made him resemble the Unibomber after a painting incident in a Nursery. One and a half numbers in, he'd already abandoned the stage, and mobile-mike'd up, sang the thrash punk "Like A Motherfucker" from the stalls, whilst meeting and greeting folks. Then, after half the thrashy oldie "Pulsar", with its' prophetic hook "I've Been Away Too Long", he disappeared, to emerge through the Upper Circle door - right next to us! After rolling on the floor awhile, he joined us and serenaded Rachel before the band burst into the next song, the incredible Stooges-like metallic stomp of "Spacehopper", which he performed whilst variously eyeballing the pair of us, inches away from our faces, and lying precariously on the balcony ledge, before disappearing from whence he came.

This set the tone for a captivating and bewitching front-man performance, laced with humour, observation and downright weirdness from one of a very small handful of musicians (Bowie, Jed Parish, erm...) truly worthy of the "Genius" tag. The first 50 or so minutes concentrated on his newer, thrashy "proto-metal" Brain Donor material, and, admittedly, became a little repetitive. However, the quiet hush of "Las Vegas Basement" onward was pure unhinged genius. Befitting this time of year, Cope wove a wizard-like spell of enticing power over us devotees, culminating in a brilliant "Reynard The Fox", which was the platform for his event theme, and climaxed with his chants for, "education! Education! EDUCATION!"

The 1 3/4 hours flew by, and after a speedy return home in similarly filthy weather, we were left to reflect on another brilliant performance from a maverick genius. Another special night worth breaking the London curfew for!

615 ELECTRIC SOFT PARADE, Clearlake, The Upper Room, Oxford Zodiac, Sunday 2 November 2003

An intriguing indie double-header, this, from 2 young British bands who'd just released follow-ups to promising debut CDs. We'd bought neither, so we were demanding to be impressed!

Set off at 6.30 with friends, and had to queue up on arrival. However we got in quickly and got drinks in before the opener, The Upper Room, on at 7.50. A very young band who evidently listened to a lot of their elder brothers' old vinyl Smiths albums, they were tuneful, toe-tappingly melodic and had a very English sense of pseudo-melancholy and misery. A quite strident young vocalist too; with more practice and honing they could be ones to watch...

Clearlake, next up, were however a great disappointment. Gone were the elegant, pastoral moods and intriguing wall-of-sound musicianship, in favour of a clutch of numbers which were actually quite dull, harsh sounding and almost Radiohead-like in their plodding moroseness. I didn't recognise a single number from their first CD, "Lido", so I'm prepared to notch this one up to experience and not give up on this band just yet; certainly time ran out on them, so they may have planned to finish with "Don't Let The Cold In" or some such number, which would certainly have lightened the mood somewhat. But I think that's their new CD off our purchase list...

However, after the headliner's set, I think we'll pick up a copy of their new one! The White brothers and their touring band, featuring the impressive Matthew Priest, formerly of Dodgy, on drums, came on at 9.30 and impressed this either very nearly or very actually sold-out crowd with a sterling set of well-crafted and well played colourful and bright indie pop. I was surprised by how much of their earlier stuff leapt back into my head as it was played, and the new numbers were multi-layered and built to impressive crescendos of sound and strobe light. Tom White, a confident, almost cocky, frontman and his brother Alex - less of a stage presence but actually the better singer - dispensed with the excellent, Teenage Fanclub-esque "Silent To The Dark" early in the set, and without the Krautrock-like monotony of previous live renditions, too. Finishing the set strongly with the yearning "There's A Silence" and the bright "Start Again", and with one slow encore delivered solo by Tom, Electric Soft Parade impressed more than I expected. A fine set from a young Brighton band coming along very nicely, thank you!

616 ALL AMERICAN REJECTS, Motion City Soundtrack, Limbeck, Bristol Academy, Wednesday 19 November 2003

This gig from American visitors (rejects?) was almost scuppered by a more illustrious (allegedly!) American guest! We set off at 6.30 and hit Bristol at the usual time, only to be hit by huge traffic queues off the M32 into the city centre. It turned out the main thoroughfares were blocked by protest marches against the UK visit of reviled current US president, George Bush! We therefore took a further hour to complete our journey, inching through St. Pauls with the car doors locked, and got into the already-packed venue halfway through openers Limbeck, who peddled an inoffensive yet forgettable countrified US rock, akin to the Gin Blossoms.

One thing evident early doors was that this was a very young crowd. Every song was greeted with screeches akin to a hockey international, and I seemed to be the oldest bloke in, not accompanying an offspring!

Main support Motor City Soundtrack were an energetic bunch of youngsters with a zeitgeisty pop-punk sound and a couple of good songs, the best of which was an uncharacteristic slow number recalling U2's "With Or Without You". By this time we'd taken up a balcony viewing spot behind some over-excited kids who clapped and cheered everything - including the roadies!

Finally the young compere introduced All American Rejects at 10. They also have quite a generic pop-punk sound which the kids lapped up, but possess a bit of songwriting nous and a slightly jagged edge which resembled 90's Irish band Cuckoo, setting them apart from the Sum 41's and New Found Glory's of this world. They're currently thin on material though; the set, including totally unnecessary drum solo, was barely 40 minutes long, and the lead singer, whilst less of a dick in front of his own crowd than at this year's Reading Festival, still needs to ease up on the, "motherfuckin' motherfuckers," a bit.

Still there's some potential there, and at least 2 good numbers; the mid-set single "Swing Swing", and easily their best number, "The Last Song", which sounded like Green Day. Let's see what they do next, as to whether they have any real staying power. Oh yeh, the journey back was nothing like as bad either!

617 DAVID BOWIE, Birmingham NEC, Thursday 20 November 2003

An NME classified ad - possibly the last thing that rag did for me before I ended 30 years or so of readership - alerted us to this tour, and gave me a chance to finally see a "live" performance from the man who started it all off for me. I remember it as if it was yesterday; sitting at the breakfast table on a family holiday in Guernsey in 1972, my 7 year old mind was diverted by a song playing on the crackly radio, which made me think I could get interested in this music malarkey after all. The song? "Life On Mars"...

So Rachel had the idea and got tickets sorted, and we set off straight after work. A horrid journey in heavy rain and traffic nevertheless got us to the NEC at 8 pm, and we parked up and wandered into the venue just as the support band were ending their last number. As it was The Dandy Warhols, I'd call that perfect timing! Got a programme and took our seats on the main floor, towards the back,stage left, which placed us a good few hundred yards from the stage, but still with a good view at this better-than-I'd-remembered venue.

The lights then dropped and The Thin White Duke himself graced us with his presence. Thence followed a most extraordinary 2 1/4 hours. The band took the stage, as a cartoon backdrop, playing on the stage-wide rear video screen, turned into footage of the actual band themselves. Then the unmistakeable classic opening riff of "Rebel Rebel" started proceedings.

It's hard not to reflect on this performance without reflecting on the man himself. Bowie has been at the forefront of anything and everything alternative, challenging, cutting-edge and downright different in rock, fashion and modern culture for over 30 years. With legitimate claims to have invented or directly inspired Glam Rock, Punk Rock, New Romantic, Synth Pop, Krautrock, Alternative Rock and Goth, no wonder he was recently voted the Most Influential Artist of the 20th Century!

Basically, Bowie has been there, seen it and done it all, and at 56, he doesn't have any need whatsoever to do it again, and absolutely nothing to prove to himself or anyone else. So when he's produced an album - this year's fine "Reality" - that energises him sufficiently to sharpen up the old larynx and play some shows, you've gotta respect that. A clutch of recent numbers and "Reality" tracks followed: "New Killer Star", the funky "Calling Sister Midnight", the spooky and punky "Reality", white funk oldie "Fame", the unexpected Pixies cover of "Cactus", and the introspective "Fall Dog Bombs The Moon". Throughout this segment you realised that at 56 the unmistakable dark, smoky voice is as strong as ever, and the sound, unusual for a big venue, was pindrop-perfect, lacking in the normal echo, accentuating every inflection, every nuance of Bowies' impressive vocal range.

The 80's funk of "China Girl" was followed by a huge "All The Young Dudes", Bowie's 70's glam rock gift for fellow glam-sters Mott The Hoople, which prompted both the first sing-along of the night, and the first of 3 heart-felt, lengthy standing ovations, at which Bowie, humble and self-effacing enough to take a proper bow after each number, seemed genuinely surprised. "Just what you want after that; a slow new one!" the contrary bugger then said, as he introduced the bare "Loneliest Guy" from "Reality", before "The Man Who Sold the World" saw him again plundering the unrivalled early 70's back catalogue. The recent "Hallo Spaceboy", an evil, sinister stomp of a song, saw Bowie hitting the walkway stage right, then "Under Pressure" followed, bassist Gail Dorsey impressively taking the Freddie Mercury vocal line in an utterly marvellous rendition of a song which I've always been a little ambivalent about, until tonight.

Then - the incredible. As a single spotlight picked Bowie out, a piano accompaniment formed the simple, stark background for a reading of "Life On Mars". A wave of emotion crashed through me; I held Rachel's hand as my musical obsession, my whole life even, came full circle. Needless to say, this beautiful rendition received an even longer standing ovation - were it not for Bowie starting up "Ashes To Ashes", I'd probably still be clapping and cheering now!

The set concluded with a quieter interlude, following "Petrol"; the haunting 80's "Loving The Alien" and "Reality"s "Days"; "Never Get Old", a splendid sing-along "Changes", the recent "I'm Afraid Of Americans", before the slow-start of "Heroes", which built to a titanic, absorbing crescendo, bookending the set perfectly. Eight thousand people rose as one for the third lengthy ovation of the night, to acclaim the Master.

Despite a 1 hour 50 minute set which seemed barely half that long, however, Bowie wasn't done. A couple of encores in, he ended with a classic trilogy; the chilling apocalyptic hush of "Five Years", the jolly rockabilly romper stomper of "Hang On To Yourself", then the spine-tingling riffery of "Ziggy Stardust", which ended with a crashing crescendo and the single word "BOWIE" projected across the stage video screens. As if you needed any reminding.

We then filed out and were home within 1 1/2 hours from leaving our seats, in awe and wonder. After 31 1/2 years of musical obsession initiated by David Bowie, it was an honour and a privilege to be in the same place as him, for one of the greatest nights of my life.

618 STELLASTARR*, The Ordinary Boys, The Twenty-Twos, Reading Fez Club, Saturday 22 November 2003

You might think that after David Bowie, last time out, anything else would be a serious anti-climax. Not so; our audience with the Thin White Duke had left us even more energised, if possible, to see bands and experience live music. Shame then, that Rachel had double-booked herself for this one, but I nevertheless roped Tim in to joining me at the rejuvenated Alleycat Live venue. Glad to see it back!

Parked up in the rain in a brand new multi-storey round the back of the venue, walking through a new riverside retail development to get to the gig. How things have changed! Hit the venue at 8, through the new soundproof door and Middle-Eastern influenced decor, to the same old upstairs room, where 3 girl, one drummer-bloke NYC combo the Twenty-Twos (or 22s?) were already on, playing the type of punky, flippant punk pop which recalled the Sahara Hotnights. Not bad, what we saw. The Ordinary Boys were quickly next up, an ordinary bunch playing spiky and fast-paced, yet pretty ordinary songs, so a well-named band really! The main plus point about their set was that at barely 20 minutes, it was short!

Stellastarr* took the stage, a black-clad troupe apart from the naked-to-the-waist drummer, fashionably late at a still-early 10 past 9. The opener kicked things in smoothly, slowly and moodily, before building to an impressive crescendo, then the set really kicked into gear with the fast, jagged "No Weather". This band are really fast becoming one of this year's real prospects; moody, angular and dark without being gloomy and morose, they recall early 80's rockist bands such as Echo And The Bunnymen, pre-pop Cure, The Psychedelic Furs, or even early "Goth" bands such as the Bolshoi. No bad thing at all! Vocalist Shawn Christiansen has a mahogany-rich voice old beyond his tender years, and the swagger of a real star in the making. The addictive "Somewhere Across Forever" and haunting "In The Walls" were a mid-set double delight, and the maverick, catchy romp of encore "Pulp Song" climaxed a breathless and very impressive performance.

Bought a t-shirt afterwards, only to find I'd been sold a girly XL one! Got my money back though - but I didn't need a refund from the gig; a fine set from an impressive new 2003 band with oodles of potential!

619 BRITISH SEA POWER, The Killers, Reading Fez Club, Wednesday 26 November 2003

Two in two for the rejuvenated Alleycat Live venue - this time a slow gig week prompted Rachel and myself to take a late call and check out an intriguing young British band who'd grown on us of late, after having picked up their debut CD. So we hit the venue at 8.30, taking a wrong turn at the Hexagon thanks to a looming artic, but recovering and losing little time.

Opening act The Killers were really hard on the ears; a shame as there were a couple of good songs underneath all the guitar noise and keyboard glare, but it seemed as if the band were having a "Who Can Play Their Instrument The Loudest" competition, consequently burying their occasionally Pulp-like, occasionally Interpol-like kitchen sink drama-esque songs.

Tried to take a good viewing position stage-right, but found ourselves confounded by tall people at every turn. Eventually got a better spot stage-left, still not free of 6-footers but at least not crowded. Surprised that this Wednesday gig was probably 3 times as popular as Stellastarr*'s gig here last Saturday night!

The set was bedecked with tree branches and swathed with dry ice for the entrance of British Sea Power, who came onstage to the sound of Gregorian chanting. Now where have I heard that before? BSP's debt to Echo And The Bunnymen also stretches to pseudo camo get-up, wild-eyed angular rhythms and choppy guitar riffs, also slow-burning moody melody. Unlike fellow copyists the Coral, however, they add their own flip to the mix; the WW2 bomber noises, Pathe newsreels and songs about insects and bird-watching cultivate an austere, 50's English eccentric image. Musically, they're improving and making the most of slightly limited material - I even liked the songs I'd dismissed as blatant "Crocodiles" rip-offs last time! Vocalist Yan is also developing a good nervous energy persona onstage. We left midway through the encore, but were glad we came, to see a band with some definite promise developing nicely!

620 MEW, Carina Round, Ambersphere, London University Of London Union, Tuesday 2 December 2003

What with roadworks and speed traps on the M4, it now takes something very special indeed to entice us up to London on a school night. The prospect of, amazingly, Mew's first ever UK headline date was, however, very special. So Rachel and I joined a delegation oop the Smoke, parking just round the corner from ULU after a remarkably easy drive in and search for parking spots. Got in, therefore, just as the openers were tuning up. Ambersphere, for such they were, peddled a nice line in sub-Byrds/Big Star influenced harmonic countrified pop. Shame the Thrills beat them to it!

Watched Carling Cup footy in the bar before Carina Round took the stage, already running late. Her opener started with the slow desolation of a Cowboy Junkies track, and developed into a Jeff Buckley-esque warbling noisefest. I should have liked it, but found it jarring rather than intriguing, and retreated to the bar, from whence she sounded better, also recalling early PJ Harvey.

By Mew-time, the place was quite full with devotees, including a fair sprinkling of Scandinavians. Found an excellent viewing slot stage left, near the front, behind lots of short people, for Mew's fashionably late entrance at 10. From the opening bars of "Am I Wry? No" it was evident that they were "on it", and thereafter were nothing less than awesome, awe-inspiring and brilliant throughout.

Mew are unlucky that their emergence coincided with a year I finally saw David Bowie, otherwise they'd be No.1 live act, no question, to go with their top single and album awards for this year. This is the 3rd time I've seen them and each time has been radically different; the OK Go support slot all about power and impact, the 93 Ft. East gig a triumph of stark, simple beauty, and this one, which reeked of consummate professionalism and perfection from a band clearly aware that they are on the up... and up! The sound was possibly better than I've ever heard it at the occasionally muddy sounding ULU, and the boys did it full justice, Jonas' choirboy innocent vocals never once missing a note.

A trio of unfamiliar numbers followed the angelic "Wry" and plangent "156", each underlining the fact that Mew are no one-shot wonders, then the haunting, broodingly magnificent "She Came Home For Christmas" solicited a deserved lengthy ovation. "She Spider", jagged, menacing and dynamic, was a late highlight, before the wistful charm of "Snow Brigade" abruptly ended a 45 minute set which seemed seconds long.

Back on for "Comforting Sounds",a perfect end to a set brimming with melancholy, menace, beauty and power. The ovation at the end said it all; they and we knew that they'd delivered, in the biggest way possible.

Afterwards, emotions were mixed; pure unrivalled elation at the incredible gig we'd seen tonight was tempered with the realisation that we can't hold Mew back. They're all over Radio 1 and MTV2 like a rash, and soon they'll be headlining stadia, blowing away the Coldplays of this world and showing them up as the pretenders to the throne of elegiac, haunting world domination that Mew rightly deserve. Sure, they deserve it, but dammit, we saw them first! They're OURS!

I hope that never changes.

622 THE WONDER STUFF, Voice Of The Beehive, Birmingham NIA Academy, Sunday 7 December 2003

Amazingly, we'd not sorted tickets for this one until the actual day, as Rachel (a massive Stuffies fan) wasn't sure that she wanted to see them in these circumstances, on a dubious "comeback" tour. But then hey, why not? So I booked tix and we hit the road at 5, making easy time and parking up in the quiet NIA Car Park at 6.30. Sorted our ticket collection then got ice cream (!) and took our tiered seats, stage right, about 7. Good view in this huge venue, which was partitioned off halfway down the hall for this nevertheless sell-out show.

Luckily, the billed 3rd act Bentley Rhythm Ace only turned out to be DJs rather than "live", so we put up with their jumping old vinyl until Voice Of The Beehive came on at 8. They struggled with thin sound which ate up their guitar noise, but nevertheless played an energetic set of their sparkling, tuneful and sometimes slightly naughty girly pop. Despite not having listened to my old VOTB vinyl for donkey's years, most of their set was very familiar, as was the sharp-witted banter of the 2 girls. The old Comsat Angels classic "Independence Day", a moody number about, "a nervous breakdown which I can relate to," was for me the set highlight, despite being at odds with the rest of the upbeat poppy set. All the hits; "Don't Call Me Baby", "I Say Nothing" and a breathless romper-stomper through "I Walk The Earth" were chucked into an entertaining 45 minutes!

The place was well packed by now, but luckily our tiered seating afforded us a good view! The Stuffies wasted little time, on promptly at 9.15 and straight into a less familiar number, followed by "Can't Shape Up". Miles, occasionally too flippant for my liking, was in good and generous spirits throughout; the usual, "how the fuck are ya?" greeting was complemented with an explanation of the Stuffies' "lapse" into gigging again, with Miles referring to this tour as their "Gary Glitter Gangshow"!

Musically, they sounded excellent and put on a great show. A little bit of fat in the middle for my liking - their best-known numbers "Size Of A Cow" and "Don't Let me Down, Gently" were dispensed with early, and mid-set consisted of a lot of their fiddly-diddly, student night out sing-along numbers - but I have to say they finished the set superbly. The mature, considered "On The Ropes" - finally given some credit by Miles (it's always been my favourite Stuffies number) - sounded a cut above, then the slightly-delic "A Wish Away", the jolly, chug-along "Unbearable" and set closer "Ten Trenches Deep", all driving drumbeats and grinding guitar riffs, ended things brilliantly.

I also enjoyed Miles' speech about former bassist, the late Rob Jones, wherein he asked the audience to raise a JD and coke to Rob on Feb 14th next, which would have been Rob's 40th birthday. A nice touch.

Encores, mainly from the popular "8 Legged Groove Machine", brought the set up to a 1 3/4 hours of their unique, sassy-gobbed, fiddly-embellished guitar pop. Undoubtedly Rachel got much more out of this gig than I did, judging by her elation on the drive home, but one thing's for sure, we'll be back for another lapse next year!

621 INSPIRAL CARPETS, Puressence, London Shepherd's Bush Empire, Friday 5 December 2003

Guest lists and after-show passes for the Inspirals? OK then! My younger brother Paul (the "Budlet") has gotten himself "in" with Manc baggy survivors Puressence, and has landed himself Tour Manager duties for their stint with the revived Inspiral Carpets. Shame the proposed Echo And The Bunnymen tour slot fell through, but we were happy to accept freebies for "the Mats"! So we parked up in the Bush at 7.30, picking up our freebies at the Box Office. The Budlet was onstage setting up the guitars as we walked in the venue but popped over for a chat. Nice to see him working for a change!

Stayed up front, stage right, for Puressence at 8.15. With the benefit of a bit of familiarity with their material, thanks to "Budlet" burning us a comp CD, I quite enjoyed their set. They're dark, brooding and haunting in a way not unlike The Sheila Divine or The Good North, but with a baggy, funky rhythmic backdrop and considerably less strong material. The vocalists' high, strident voice is definitely the strongest weapon in their armoury, and he often made an average song sound pretty good. The set was also notable for a blur of movement from Paul as he dashed onstage to retrieve the vocalist's fallen mikestand, then dived into the pit to get out of sight. Never seen him move so fast!

It started to get busy, so we moved to the back, only to find it even busier there! Worse, the place was packed with lairy drunken baggy louts who seemed not to have been out since the first baggy go-round, and were making up for lost time!

"The Mats" came on with their full stage back-drop, full of large milk bottles bearing the ubiquitous cow logo, to a chorus of moo-ing from the crowd. They ran briskly through a "Greatest Hits" set of easy-on-the-ears, keyboard-fuelled sing-along pop. Unfairly lumped in with the baggy scene, in my view they're more akin to 60's beat combos such as the Kinks, with a quintessential Englishness about them. The years away have not been particularly kind - especially to vocalist Tom Hingley, who resembled a darts player - but they tackled the job with enthusiasm, and the drunken mob lapped it up. An early, perky "Saturn 5", the more considered "Move", and the inevitable final "This Is How It Feels", all sing-along melancholy and dark, depressing imagery (it's grim oop North, ya knows), were the highlights of an occasionally boring but mostly fun set.

Popped up to the after-show party, but it was heaving so we sat outside in the stalls awhile. "Budlet" joined us and proudly showed off his tour-book. Good for him! Got introduced to a Puressence guy, plus "Mats" vocalist Tom, to whom I mentioned that he seemed to be in "fantasy band camp" onstage. Then we hit the road and left my brother to clear up the mess for once!

623 SUEDE, Razorlight, Bristol Academy, Tuesday 9 December 2003

Another name from the past for our 3rd gig in 5 days; this time however it was a final farewell rather than a revival. Suede, having decided they are "out of step" with the state of modern rock, are calling it a day with a final "Greatest Hits" tour, so we felt it only right and proper to take this last opportunity to see one of the 90's most enduring bands. We nearly didn't, though - the car wouldn't start after 2 days of inactivity, and we needed a jump start from Rachel's brother and dad! Finally got it going, however, and we carefully drove down a foggy M4, hitting the venue at 8.

The place was already very busy and we'd missed the first band - none other than Ambulance Ltd. the same band we missed in Boston! Maybe we'll see them one day... Razorlight, second band on, had already taken the stage; a painfully young bunch of snotty reprobates, they played an intriguing set of jerky indie rock, full of energy and nervous tension, recalling the likes of Cuckoo and Glitterbox musically and Hot Hot Heat for the angst-ridden performance. The new single sounded good, and a sleazy set closer, recounting the story of a lady of the night, reminded me of "Here Comes The Judge" by 70's band The Vapors!

The place was heaving for the entrance of Suede at 9.30 - luckily our view, from our stage-left vantage point under the balcony stairs, stayed relatively big-bloke free.

Suede were great. Coming on to the robotic "Introducing The Band", they played a totally blistering set. They've long since held up a mirror to the sleazy underbelly of British society, creating vignettes full of sleaze, sex and trashy glamour over a Bowie-esque soundtrack, and tonight these qualities were displayed to their best effect. They positively rocketed through the first third of the set, Brett a committed, energetic frontman skilled in mass communication, with "Animal Nitrate" a highlight. Inevitably, they powered down for a haunting, thrillingly base and dark middle section, the touching narrative of "The Wild Ones" recalling the Thin White Duke's own "Sweet Thing". Then, just to round things off, they increased the tempo again - "New Generation" was brilliant and set the tone for a venomous final third.

As if to belie their impending split, they started the encore with a new number (!), the naughty "Sexmusic", Brett playfully repeating the taped, "music for sex, you like to have sex" line. A couple of other numbers could however scarcely prepare us for the climax of this splendid 1 1/2 hour set; their epic "Still Life", Brett's voice cutting loose for a spine-tingling finale of cinemascopic range and vision. So, not the singles start-to-end set we expected by the "Greatest Hits" tour appellation (indeed, no "Drowners" at all), but instead, a reprise of what made Suede great.

We'll miss them.

624 LONGVIEW, Thirteen Senses, The Keys, Oxford Zodiac, Tuesday 13 January 2004

First gig of 2004, and it's revisiting a promising young band we sadly had to cut short at last year's Reading Festival as they clashed with Hot Hot Heat. Good to have another chance!

We got in just before 8, and found the Keys already on. A schizophrenic bunch who really didn't know which style of music to play. Country, Thrills-like West Coast pop, moody melancholia; jacks of all but masters of none. So we stayed in the bar! Ventured into the hall - Rachel with her new Gordonjack shoes which gave her an extra height boost and more confidence at gigs! - for Thirteen Senses. They were a much better prospect, a young band playing a keyboard-driven set of introspective, early Smiths-like, gloomy bedsit anthems. A little samey but showing promise, and entirely at home supporting the similarly veined Longview!

Talking of the headliners; they kept us waiting 45 minutes after the end of Thirteen Senses' set - so much for this being an early gig! They sloped on at 10 to the accompaniment of a drum and feedback cacophony, and into a hooky, rocking libidinous opener kicking things off well, but somewhat at odds with the rest of the set. Longview plough a moody, melancholic furrow, with the slow-burning guitars dovetailing well with the vocalists' low, elegiac tones. An early "Can't Explain", with bass problems forcing the band to get the crowd singing to maintain momentum, was a highlight of a set sprinkled with morose yet strangely uplifting music, and a lot of verbiage from the surprisingly gregarious vocalist, including, oddly, an anti-Swindon reference. Best number "Further" was the final encore and ended the evening strongly; overall a solid, impressive opening gig of 2004!

625 HOME GROWN, Allister, The Early November, Oxford Zodiac, Monday 19 January 2004

A trip to Oxford for a gig I'm probably years too old for - a quartet of young "punk" bands, or what passes for punk these days. Perennial punk rocker The Big Man was enthused, and I quite liked Home Grown's fun video for their single "You're Not Alone", so off we all went! Missed opening band Hidden In Plain View thanks to a trip to Bodrum Kebab for Rich's dinner, then hit the venue and stayed in the bar for painfully young emo troupe The Early November, playing to the full and painfully young crowd of hoodies and punk kids. I liked their enthusiasm if not their disjointed and forgettable take on shouty emo rock. Allister, next up, at least played all together and put on a more coherent and professional performance of their generic new millennial scuzzy punk pop. They weren't bad, but I'd forgotten all their tunes before they left the stage!

Final act Home Grown kept us waiting till gone 10, but put together an energetic performance of emo punk pop, somewhere between Jimmy Eat World and Blink 182. Again, a little generic, but their best number "You're Not Alone" was a cool sing-along, although I could've done without the bad Britney cover. At least I think it was Britney - it was so bad I forgot it! All in all, not a bad night out, but hardly one to threaten my top 10 gigs of the year...

626 RYAN ADAMS, Jesse Malin, Bristol Academy, Wednesday 21 January 2004

A very timely gig, this, after a tough day. An enthusiastic Tim had picked us up at 10 past 6 (!), so we hit the venue early and got a good viewing spot on the bar balcony, behind a guy with crutches who was sat on a stool. Result!

Jesse Malin was on at 8.30; Malin, owner of the NYC bar at which Tim and co. welcomed in the New Year (!!), is a Queens-based old punk rocker weaned on his town's Ramones, who switched from playing aimless punk rock with D-Generation to a more introspective, alt-Country torch music solo style. His nasal vocal tones were complemented by a fat acoustic and keyboard embellishments, but I liked his relaxed Noo Yawk Citeh between-song banter more than I liked his material. A full band accompaniment, featuring a suspicious-looking drummer, ended the set on an upbeat note.

Ryan Adams, who I've only recently "discovered", kept us waiting and wondering until 10. Even Tim, a long-time fan and first-time viewer, had no idea what to expect from this chameleonic NYC maverick. in the end, we got it all - and more besides... Adams, a skinny figure sporting a Dennis the Menace jumper and a shock of ginger hair (yes, he was the drummer in the Jesse Malin band!) ambled onstage and, after a bleak solo opener, was joined by his band for the soaring, anthemic newie "So Alive", an early Single Of The Year contender for me, with Adams howling the hook like a rabid dog. Great stuff! Thereafter followed a set of three halves, as it were; the first part drew from the critically panned but thrilling new "Rock N Roll" CD, all primal energy and raw, Stones/ Iggy like licks, with "1974" a highlight. Then, Adams harked back to his dusty alt-Country past with Whiskeytown, with brooding solo ballads sung with the yearning tones of a Jeff Buckley-esque voice, haunting and elegiac. This morphed into the more commercial country-pop closing section, via a stripped-back version of best-known number "New York, New York". Always fascinating, passionate and supremely talented, this was the edgy sound of a man torn between musical styles, yet unwilling to compromise in the balancing process.

Rach and I popped into the lobby after the set, chatting briefly with Jesse Malin and hanging out with Mark and Charlotte as Adam's encore went on... and on... and on! Seemed as though the previously monosyllabic between-song Adams found his voice, and started rambling on about, amongst other things, wanting to become a plumber again! Weird, but very talented.

627 DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE, The Cribs, Youth Movie Soundtrack Strategies, Oxford Zodiac, Saturday 7 February 2004

This one fell on an Evan visit Saturday but, undeterred, we sorted tickets and hammered down the M40 to Oxford, getting to the venue at 10 past 8 just as the cumbersomely-named first band were finishing, so I have no idea what they sounded like! The Cribs, on the other hand, we did hear, albeit from the bar. They had an element of C86 cutesy jingle about them, but also a catchy glam rock edge. Not too bad but I couldn't eat a whole one.

The place was very full so we wandered back in, and took up position stage right. However we realised DCFC vocalist Ben Gibbard was set up as far stage left as possible, and it was too rammed to move over. D'oh! I was nevertheless well up for this one, with Death Cab For Cutie being providers of my favourite album of 2002 with "The Photo Album", and also receiving my Best Band of Reading Festival that same year with a superb performance. Initially, they lived up to my expectations tonight with strident versions of "A Movie Script Ending" and "The New Year". Then it started to go... not so much "wrong" really, as just "not right". "Why You'd Want To Live Here", their best number by far, was dispensed with unnecessarily early in the set, all its' absorbing elements and intricate tunefulness buried under swathes of loud riffery. Thereafter the set, concentrating mainly on 2003 CD "Transatlanticism", and disappointingly omitting both "We Laugh Indoors" and "I Was A Kaleidoscope" rarely reached the expected heights. Death Cab For Cutie songs are intelligent, thoughtful, intricate little beasts, and tonight they did not benefit from the manhandling that they were given. DCFC rocked, and that was the problem.

We headed off straight after the set, as tiredness from the big day set in. Disappointing, sure, but I like this lot too much to give up on them after one below-par performance!

628 LOVE, The Keys, Bristol Academy, Wednesday 11 February 2004

Arthur's on the road again! Despite pushing (or pushed over!) his sixties, legendary 60's psychedelic songsmith Arthur Lee is touring again, pushing his 60's masterpiece "Forever Changes" like it had only been released last week, and proving that the Bristol Fleece gig of a couple of years back wasn't just a one-off. Fellow Lee devotee Beef picked both Rachel and myself up - somehow I'd persuaded my better half to hear this "hippy shit" live! Got there early doors, and after we discovered The Keys were support, we took our pre-gig drinks in the foyer bar!

Found out Love were due on at 9, from the merch lady who advised us that a taxi had just been despatched to fetch Arthur from his hotel room, where he was "chilling". Yeah, so that's what they call it these days! Took a wander in beforehand and got a very good viewing position on the floor, stage left. Despite this apparently being sold out, there were acres of space on the floor! Mind you, as before, the audience made both Beef and myself feel young, and Beef's just turned 40!

Love, i.e. Arthur Lee's young backing band, were on promptly at 9, before Arthur himself made his entrance, a long, languid figure shaking a tambourine nonchalantly. He then provided a masterclass performance run-through of this most overlooked of iconic 60's bands' varied repertoire. Proto punk (the jagged "Seven And Seven Is" and my favourite "My Little Red Book"), wistful psychedelia ("Orange Skies"), 60's classic pop ("Everybody's' Gotta Live") and unorthodox old school rhythm and blues ("Bummer In The Sumer") all collided together in this set, as Arthur, backed with admirable restraint by a supremely talented group, put on a show worthy of a man half his age. An icon who's still got it!

The set dragged a little as Arthur decided to deviate from the set-list, clearly enjoying himself and stretching this to 1 3/4 hours, before an excellent "Clark And Hilldale" drew a great performance to a close. Even Rachel liked it, albeit grudgingly!

629 ASH, Winnebago Deal, Newport TJs, Monday 23 February 2004

It's not often that a band as popular as Ash announces a small venue tour, so we grabbed our tickets as quickly as we could, finding "sold out" signs for the Oxford and Portsmouth gigs, but a few left at TJs. Despite this being an enduring rock venue just over the bridge into Wales, I'd never been to TJs before! This was also a first gig for our new car, so there's a couple of firsts! Parked up in a side street after getting confused about the closing times for the NCP opposite, and joined the freezing but fast-moving queue outside this inevitably sold-out show. TJs is a seriously run-down dive, with badly-framed pix of former headliners on the walls. A real rock'n'roll venue!

We were dismayed to discover Oxford noiseniks Winnebago Deal were support; however despite the volume still being loud (albeit considerably reduced from our previous ear-splitting experience), they were much more palatable. Kind of "Beaster" era Sugar meets Black Sabbath. A quantum improvement from last time!

We took up a reasonable viewing position stage-left in this heaving little venue for Ash, promptly on at 9.30. They wandered onstage to no fanfare or entrance music, plugged in, went straight into "Girl From Mars" and the place went nuts.

The primary reason for this small venue tour is for Ash to shake down the tracks from forthcoming new CD "Meltdown" in a live environment, and this they did, playing all of them! However, they never took the piss, and delivered a perfectly planned set, with every couple of new numbers being followed with a live favourite, such as the early and brilliantly strident "A Life Less Ordinary", or the Ramones-like surf punk of "Walking Barefoot". And as for the new numbers; despite rumours of metal overload, I'm pleased to report them new apples didn't fall far from the Ash tree. Harder edged, sure, particularly lyrically (with titles like "Clones", "Meltdown" and "Vampire Love") but still ostensibly fast-paced pop with loud guitars and the flippant Ash imprint. And in "On A Wave", a potential Summer anthem, surely?

An hour and 20 minute set, which flew by, was followed by encores including "Petrol" (respect!) and the anthemic punk thrill of "Burn Baby Burn", the inevitable set closer. A riotously fun time had by all, and (I know I've said this before, but...) as good as I've seen Ash. Blistering stuff for my 10th Ash performance - a perfect 10!

630 BRIAN WILSON, Bristol Colston Hall, Tuesday 2 March 2004

Recently, gig-wise, I've gone through a real revisiting of my rock'n'roll history; never mind Suede and the Wonderstuff, we're talking Bowie and Arthur Lee here! And (despite my assertion of Bowie having been the inventor of modern music as we know it), here was arguably the Daddy of the lot; Brian Wilson, the legendary reclusive genius of the Beach Boys, the 60's band who wrote the book on pop not only as an irresistible melodic and harmonic force, but also as sonic experimentation and art form. 2 years ago, we'd blanched at the £50 ticket price for his "Pet Sounds" tour and regretted it ever since. As no less an authority as Neil Young said, "seeing Brian Wilson will be like being able to say you'd seen Tchaikovsky perform." So this time we'd booked tickets early, particularly intrigued as the centrepiece of this tour would be "Smile", the legendary "lost" Beach Boys album, the one which, while trying to outdo the stratospherically high standards he'd set with the groundbreaking "Pet Sounds", drove Wilson to the brink of insanity via huge consumption of recreational pharmaceuticals. Oft bootlegged, yet no-one really knew how it should have sounded - except Wilson himself!

So, to Bristol then, and, slight parking-mare sorted, we took our seats at 10 to 8 after a drink on the packed, old and coupley-populated bar. Wilson and his 11-piece band took the stage at 8 to a standing ovation, whence, led by bandleader Steve Toskett, they sat in a close-knit horseshoe to sing a clutch of pindrop-perfect harmonic acapella/ acoustic numbers. The between-group banter immediately established a rapport with the audience, which was necessary, as it was soon apparent Wilson himself wasn't fully with us tonight. At 62, the voice was still good, although occasionally the honeyed larynx of Foskett carried the vocal lead, but Wilson was at best ill-at-ease onstage. To be honest, given his reputation and history, I expected no less really.

The opening hour was a selection of late-period beach Boys stuff, and the more traditional blues-based solo stuff. "God Only Knows", one of the greatest songs EVER written, shone like a beacon in the fog, but that was even eclipsed by a lush atmospheric rendition of "Sloop John B", plangent and copiously harmonic, before an interval.

We got ice cream before the band's reappearance at 9.20 for a start-to-finish rendering of "Smile". Laid end-to-end, Wilson's vision of Americana and soundscaping genius sounds radical and cutting-edge even today - God only knows what it sounded like back in 1967! The intricacy of melody, interwoven with waves of harmonic detail, and the recurrent theme of travel were all evident. The songs melded together perfectly as a fully-realised whole entity, although the climax "Good Vibrations", the Beach Boys' zenith of achievement, stood out like a shining light at the end of a strange and wondrous journey.

To be honest, I'd have been happy for the gig, nay, "performance", to end there, but Foskett introduced the band, and Wilson himself, for the encore. As if to lighten the mood, they played the surf-pop early Beach Boys classics, such as "Fun Fun Fun", "I Get Around" and the disjointed yet fun "Barbara-Ann", ending the evening on a lighter, sing-along note. One more encore, "Love And Mercy", and it was over. Sonically, this was one of the most extraordinary shows of my gigging days, a brilliant group reverently sharing the vision of a true musical genius. Although carried, performance-wise, Brian Wilson's vision and genius was on full display, and I can echo Neil Young's sentiments and say that I've seen Brian Wilson.

631 JONATHAN RICHMAN, Mr. Bennett, Bristol Fleece, Sunday 11 April 2004

Continuing the retro phase of late; my first gig back after a 5 week hiatus to get my stomach hernia repaired is this intriguing acoustic interlude from a seminal 70's US New Wave figure, relatively unknown and unappreciated by UK audiences (and, until recently, by myself!). Richman's "cult" status, however, meant that after difficulty parking near the Fleece, we found the place already packed out on arrival! This audience made me feel quite young, being a gathering of serious musos, who judging by their manners obviously don't get out too much, I'm sorry to say...

Opener Mr. Bennett, a tall bloke with an acoustic, opened with a number decrying imitation; quite ironic really as he was doing a more than passable imitation of Richman himself with his overly complex wordplay and laid-back delivery. However, a nice, wryly delivered set, surprisingly short at 15 minutes!

We therefore had 45 uncomfortable minutes to wait until Jonathan Richman's arrival, promptly at 9. He cut a languid, unorthodox figure onstage; tall, rangy, at once worldly-wise yet younger looking than his 50+ years, and sporting a seemingly permanently worried expression, he twanged dextrously away at a deliberately loosely-strung acoustic, while drummer Tommy Larkins provided soft percussive embellishment, and occasionally a harder beat for JR to dance to. Languidly, of course! Musically, the set was an exercise in economy of expression, the stripped back approach unearthing the pure melody of the material. Jonathan's unusual, gauche delivery perfectly complemented the tales of lost love and teen alienation, with occasional lyrical visitations back to the Massachusetts of his youth. Thankfully, he delved back to that classic 70's first Modern Lovers album, playing "Girlfriend", "Old World" and "Pablo Picasso", but the stark simplicity of "That Summer Feeling" was my highlight of this set.

Cute, captivating and funny, this was another great set from another man proving age is no barrier to greatness. Also, as he passed through the length of the bar on the way backstage afterwards, I got to shake his hand; as the Rockingbirds said on "Jonathan Jonathan", their tribute to him, that's something I won't forget!

632 THE STILLS, The Walkman, Oxford Zodiac, Sunday 25 April 2004

A quick bop down to Oxford to see an intriguing new band, purveyors of my favourite new music in 2004 with the CD "Logic Will Break Your Heart" and splendid single "Lola Stars And Stripes". Touted as this years' Strokes - hopefully only from a potential/ popularity standpoint! Anyway, Rachel and I hit the sold-out venue at 8, and support act The Walkmen came on promptly after we arrived. They were hampered by poor sound but didn't help their own cause by deliberately distorting their vocals and terrible keyboard noise. I whacked my earplugs in to clean up the glare - I've had it with getting my ears tortured by poor support bands!

Rach and I took a position by the viewing platform, stage left, where it was thankfully less crowded. The Stills came on earlier than their scheduled 9.30 to the strains of Luna's atmospheric, breathy "Bonnie And Clyde", and were immediately impressive, playing "Lola" second number in, its' moody atmospherics and slow-burning use of space recalling prime Echo And The Bunnymen. Indeed, the Bunnymen's sense of epic grandeur and scale is a feature in the Stills music, along with the Joy Division-like haunting one-chord repetition that Interpol also employ so well. Much tougher "live" than on CD, they were also genuinely surprised by the deserved ovations after each number, and after a very short-seeming set indeed, they returned for a 3-song encore with, "we got this wrong, so we're going to play all of our songs as you guys deserve more than 38 minutes!"

A final mesmeric drum machine-led number, sung by their Strokes-lookalike drummer (the only Strokes comparison I could find all night!), capped a dynamic, dramatic and very impressive set. In a year where so much new music sounds like carbon copies of yore, the Stills are using their 80's rockist influences to create something undoubtedly of their own. More power to them!

633 SEAFOOD, Distophia, Oxford Zodiac Downstairs, Thursday 29 April 2004

Finally! After a few false starts and postponements due to hospital issues (my own hernia repair, and Seafood singer David Line's own hospitalisation due to lung problems), we finally get to see Seafood again; this time for the 20th time, some 2 years and one personnel change after the last time out, at the so-called "Essential Festival" in Bristol in 2002! So Rachel and I bopped along, getting to the venue at 8.30, surprised to find this sold-out show was being held downstairs! Why not move it to the larger upstairs room? Mad!

Distophia were kicking up a noisy, not unpleasant but not noticeably good either racket onstage, however Rach and I had other plans. Having found free A3 posters on the merch stand, we hunted down the Seafood band members and got them to sign one in honour of our 20th Seafood gig! Whilst doing so, I also got to swap hospital stories and compare rather fresh and grisly scars with vocalist David!

Moved back a little - my tummy's still not repaired enough for a Seafood mosh - for their entrance at 9.30. Starting, oddly, with "In This Light", the moody, slow-burn number sung by drummer Caroline which ultimately erupted into a cacophonous yet controlled climax, they were thereafter never short of superb. "Summer Falls", a breathless newie, followed, before a brilliant "Western Battle", David wisely already being economical with the screams so as to not overstress his lung. The new 'Food material seemed slower, more considered, perhaps even more "mature", yet of no less quality, and the subsequent "As The Cry Flows" album should elevate their profile in a similar way that "The Remote Part" did for Idlewild, if there's any justice. My favourite of the new material, "Sleepover", the spooky bassline a feature, preceded another newie "No Sense Of Home", a ballad dedicated to, "anyone who's been in hospital for a couple of months." Hey, I know that feeling...

"Good Reason", the single and most Seafood-esque of the new material, a real high-tempo romper-stomper, was followed by "Cloaking" then the inevitable closer "Porchlight". This is what we'd missed, an evening with da 'Food to alleviate our jaded attitude towards the state of rock'n'roll today.

No set list, but the full set was;

IN THIS LIGHT, SUMMER FALLS, WESTERN BATTLE, GUNTRIP, HEAT WALKS AGAINST ME, PLEASUREHEAD, KICK IN THE WALLS, SLEEPOVER, NO SENSE OF HOME, SPLINTER, GOOD REASON, CLOAKING, PORCHLIGHT

Quick congrats with bassist Kevin before we left, satisfied. The best band in Britain are back to reclaim their rightful place. It's about time!

634 "Boston Rock Promotions" presents THE PILLS, YOU ARE HERE, Swindon Broadwalk, Sunday 23 May 2004

"Boston Rock Promotions" presents the Pills? Well, that's Rachel and myself! After 24 years and 633 gigs as a fan, I'm finally helping to put one on! Taking advantage of an opportunity - The Pills were in the UK and mainman, and Boston friend, Corin Ashley, asked about gig possibilities in Swindon; finding little enthusiasm from the people I approached, I finally thought, "why not do it ourselves? How hard can it be?"

The answer? Not too hard at all actually! Corin suggested a free date in the Pills' UK schedule, we got the venue for free as they're not normally open on a Sunday but were happy to open for bar takings from a guaranteed audience, Tim's band acted as both support and equipment/drumkit providers for the light-travelling Pills, Tim also offered to put a couple of the band up for the night (as did we). Tim also recommended a soundman (who I duly hired for £150 guaranteed), I ghost-wrote a piece for the Swindon Advertiser, my brother offered to be "Larry Lights", friend Stuart Gould's company did posters, flyers and tickets for a discount, and we were all systems go!

So, we headed on down to the venue at 4.30 on the big day, to find the sound guy already unloading! Tim's band arrived shortly thereafter, and my brother arrived at 5.30 with some impressive light-rigs. Got the call at 5.45 that The Pills were in town (Corin serenading me on the mobile with "The Boys Are Back In Town"!) so I duly greeted them from the station, then brought them back to the venue which was ready for their soundcheck. Popped home briefly with my brother during the soundcheck (to get the ring - more later!), then headed back to the venue. The Pills' soundcheck was done by then, so we gave them a nice surprise; a letter from XTC's Colin Moulding, delivered to the venue, wishing them well for the gig! This, needless to say, bowled Corin over somewhat, but wasn't the only XTC-related incident that night...

Doors opened at 7, so Rach and I took turns on the door, as the punters - mainly our friends whom we'd sold tickets to - arrived. I stayed as "Norman The Doorman" during You Are Here's support set at 8.30. The sound, a little loud and lairy during soundcheck in the empty venue, was sorted for the set and from my door vantage point sounded pretty damn good. You Are Here belied their expected ring-rust and delivered a slick, professional and enthusiastically-rendered set of their 90's US Alt-rock influenced pop. As usual, shades of Buffalo Tom and Sebadoh, but with less of the nervousness of yore, particularly from vocalist "The Hawk". I danced with Rach to a perfectly-executed and heartfelt "I May Hate You Sometimes", which ironically served as a perfect prelude for what was to come...

So, just before the Pills were due on, I dragged Rach onstage under the pretext of jointly introducing the band, then got down on one knee and, to a couple of incredulous gasps from the audience, asked her to marry me! Luckily she said, "yes!" Incredible!

So, after that little bit of thunder-stealing, we actually did jointly introduce The Pills, who broke into a perfectly-timed "Halifax", as Rach and I accepted - and fended off - congratulations from all and sundry down the front. The Pills were "on it" from the outset, and belted through the first five numbers with their trademark non-stop amphetamine fast enthusiasm and intensity. Sounding perfect - how does our soundman not do this for a living? - and playing with a frenzied full-on throttle speed, the Pills won over this Swindon crowd with their blend of upbeat, very idiosyncratically English (Kinks, XTC and Costello evident influences) yet swaggeringly American pop.

"Engagements happen all the time at our gigs," said vocalist Dave Thompson, somewhat inaccurately, before "Apologise", dedicated to us. A splendid "Rub My Eyes" was introduced by Dave as, "a song I wrote about my wife," before he then introduced the flippant "Continental Breakfast" as, "a song I wrote about his (guitarist Dave Aaranoff's) wife!"

The hour-plus set dashed by far too soon, but we dragged them back onstage for a couple of encores - "Butternut", as requested by none other than Holly Partridge (Andy Partridge's daughter, who in the other XTC-related incident tonight had shown up, introduced herself to Corin and gotten the Pills in a right old state, phoning her dad and getting him to talk to them!), and an unexpected, unhinged and raucous run-through David Bowie's "Suffragette City". A great climax to undoubtedly the show of the year, and one of the greats of all time.

The one hitch I was panicking about came afterwards - guest Pills drummer Matt from Bleu, apparently a "soft hitter" according to my watching brother, a drummer himself, had managed to crack YAH drummer Danny's large crash cymbal, so the £120 clear profit we'd made - which we'd originally planned to give to The Pills, had to go towards that instead. D'oh! But this didn't detract from an extraordinary night.

Back to ours afterwards, where we cracked open the celebratory sparkling wine kindly provided by the venue, then talked Boston Rock with the boys until the small hours. Then after a short nights sleep, we all met up for breakfast in the Grove's Company Inn (except Corin, who'd caught a train in the morning to see his mum, also visiting the UK!) before the boys left on the midday train.

God bless The Pills, the musical accompaniment to one of the most important nights of my life. Incredible!

635 ASH, Saves The Day, Bristol Academy, Tuesday 1 June 2004

Back to normal gigs for both Rachel and myself (after our self-promoted gig last time out) and for Ash, after their small venue tour recently. I was looking forward to hearing how the material from their new CD "Meltdown", for me Ash's best, most consistent and hardest rocking album yet, would translate in a bigger venue. So we hit the road just after 7, parking and meeting our Bristol friends just after 8. The place was heaving when we got there - obviously a sell-out - and we luckily got good viewing slots next to the mixing desk.

Missed first band The Crimea (boo!) but we were there in time for Saves The Day, Noo Joisey emo pop-punksters, about 8.15. They opened with their best number by miles, the brilliant "At Your Funeral", so song quality inevitably dipped thereafter, although the commitment and performance level stayed high. A sharp, snappy set of Jimmy Eat World type emo-lite was highlighted by "Hollow Shell", and the singer's endearing humility. Good one.

The packed-out venue got even more heaving, if possible, before Ash's entrance just before 9.30. Nicking U2's trick of coming on to one of their own song intros, they then kicked into said number, the titanic title track from rocking new CD "Meltdown". Then "Girl From Mars" and the place went mental! Big or small venue, Ash have the same effect! A perfectly selected set followed, juxtaposing the hard and heavy stuff with fresher, older, more innocent material, all of which was nevertheless toughened up "live". "A Life Less Ordinary" (still my favourite Ash number) was an early highlight and was followed by a growling, menacing "Clones". Oldie "Kung Fu", an unexpected but welcome "Jack Names The Planets", the by-now customary sing-along through surf-punk classic "Walking Barefoot" all whipped by in an adrenalized, frenzied powerful rush, before "Orpheus" brought an end to the impressive 1 hour 15 minutes set.

"We're going to play a very old song now," Tim Wheeler said as he introduced excellent encore "Petrol", before "Burn Baby Burn" brought an incendiary close to the proceedings. Neither note-perfect nor pitch-perfect by any means, but awesome, exciting and thrilling. Ash are getting better and harder rocking with age, and at only 27, there's more to come from them!

636 BLONDIE, Bristol Colston Hall, Tuesday 8 June 2004

Yup, that's Blondie! The retro gig shtick continues, this time with New Wave pop mainstays Blondie, the epitome of New York cool back in the 70's, back to show the young uns how it's done, perhaps! So, I sorted out tix for Rachel (who remembered her dad playing their breakthrough 1978 album "Parallel Lines" to her in the car), my brother (who had pix of Debbie Harry plastered on his bedroom wall whilst growing up) and myself (who just liked their music), and did some research, picking up a couple of recent post-reformation Blondie albums. But whoops, they both turned out to be crap!

No matter, "Budlet" picked us up in his new motor, and we set off with excitement tinged with trepidation. This could either be a triumph, a la David Bowie's magnificence last Autumn, or it could be bowling-shoe ugly...

Queued to park, then hit the venue bar, looking out for CBGB's t-shirts sported by the mainly middle aged audience. Amazingly, we saw just one! I however was outcooling them all with my "Max's Kansas City" shirt, the true birthplace of US New Wave...

Repaired to the hall and stood stage right, where support turned out to be a guy playing some old punk rock tunes! Eventually the lights dimmed at 8.30 and the boys came on to whip through an instrumental opener, before the cymbal clash and staccato keyboard pattern heralded the start of "Atomic". Then Debs appeared - late 50's now but still feisty, looking her age but caring not a whit, all in black pirate queen chic and diamante. The voice took a few numbers to warm up, but the band certainly didn't - the classic disco-Goth of "Atomic" was followed by another classic, "Dreaming", with Clem Burke's relentless tumbling drumming pattern a feature, then "Hanging On The Telephone", all rampant punk rock pop collision. Then, amazingly, my favourite Blondie number, their first single, the brilliant, sleazy "X Offender"!

Unsurprisingly, they couldn't keep up the pace - the mid-set section, drawn mainly from recent CD, the poor "The Curse Of Blondie", sagged, but still featured a punked-up "Accidents Never Happen". It also demonstrated Blondie's capacity to veer from the sublime (the understated cool of "Presence Dear", one of the best pure pop singles of all time. No, really) to the ridiculous (the rubbish weak ska of "The Tide Is High") in moments. But that was Blondie all over; a mix of the brilliant and the banal, rooted in NYC New Wave punk rock, but never afraid to chuck in pop, disco, rap or even Japanese influences ("Magic") into their mixture. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but hey, they always tried.

A very strong finish and excellent encores (especially the epic "Union City Blue"), with Debbie energetic and teasing, and Burke rubber-limbed and brilliant, ended the evening on a high. Overall, definitely more triumph than tragedy from Blondie!

637 STELLASTARR*, The Subways, Oxford Zodiac, Tuesday 29 June 2004

After a few days unpacking boxes and moving furniture in our new house, we needed a gig! Set off later than usual as Rachel had been out on business today, so we hit the quiet venue at 10 past 8. Quiet outside, quiet inside as well, a surprisingly poor turnout for such a hotly tipped band. Maybe Oxford isn't as switched on as we thought!

Very young 3-piece the Subways opened - they were a drum-dominated blues rock combo, swinging some primal rock'n'roll similar to early PJ Harvey or, recently, The Hives. Not bad, but Rach remarked how she thought they'd played the same number 3 times!

The place thankfully filled up a bit more for the arrival of Stellastarr*, promptly at 9.35. "In The Walls", the jagged, moody opener to their fine album opened the set and initially created a false impression - it sounded pretty good, but the sound quality (doubtless set up for a fuller venue) sadly dipped thereafter. The band, all studied New York art school cool, struggled with the poor sound initially, but come "No Weather", they were into their stride, all agitated, strident and full of nervous tension and energy. By "My Coco", via a couple of newies, they were really fulfilling the potential shown last time out, with a brilliantly rhythmic, moody and thoroughly absorbing rendition, vocalist Shawn Christiansen's old-and-wise-before-their-time vocals a feature throughout. A spiky, punchy "Pulp Song" ended the set breathlessly, and encore "Jenny" put the exclamation point on a performance which started in adversity and ended in triumph. Stellastarr* fulfilling potential; great stuff!

638 ROGER MCGUINN, Jennifer Oniyama, Cardiff St. David's Hall, Thursday 1 July 2004

Continuing my recent retro gig theme, here's another; Roger McGuinn, frontman from 60's icons The Byrds, an inspiration to anyone who's ever picked up a guitar and wanted to make a jangly sound with it. Beef and Tim also didn't need much persuading, so we eschewed the Euro 2004 Semi Final on TV, and hit the road to Cardiff!

The lobby of the St. David's Hall, smack in the centre of Cardiff, was confusingly deserted when we arrived, but all became clear when we took the elevator - this modernised venue had different halls, and ours was on Level 3! Took our seats briefly for a bit of warbling angsty songstress support, then headed for the bar and merch stand instead, conversing with the merch lady whom we subsequently found out was McGuinn's wife (!), and buying autographed CDs.

Back in our excellent 4th row seats as the lights dimmed at 9 and on strolled McGuinn, leather-waistcoated and Stetson in place, already strumming the into to the Byrd's "My Back Pages", like an old-time travelling troubadour. This was a real treat - McGuinn, his pure plaintive voice undimmed by the passage of time, played a virtuoso set of 95% Byrds material, alternating between a fat 7-string self-designed acoustic Gibson, and the more familiar 12-string electric Rickenbacker, and interspersed it with timeless stories of the history of the Byrds, and, indeed, rock'n'roll itself. Despite his deserved lofty position in the pantheon of rock history, McGuinn was softly-spoken and self-effacing throughout, the stories of hanging out with Gram Parsons, and being offered Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man" to record as, "someone was singing out of tune on the original" (!) so evocative.

And the music? Classic acoustic versions of the Byrds' timeless best - an inspiring "Chestnut Mare", a thrilling "Rock N Roll Star" (wherein McGuinn asked us to scream along at the appropriate time!), a menacing, intricate "Eight Miles High", and of course the plangent melancholy of "Mr. Tambourine Man" were all highlights of a set totally devoid of lowlights! A final encore of "May The Road Rise To Greet You", wishing us well, and off he strode, as he had entered, strumming along. We left elated - long may he strum!

639 CHEAP TRICK, McQueen, London Shepherd's Bush Empire, Wednesday 21 July 2004

Amazingly, our first London trip this year - it takes a very special band to get us to endure the M4 traffic these days - a band such as the Trick! Unfortunately, "endure" is still the right word for the damned M4 - Rachel picked us up at 5.20 from work and we didn't park the car in Shepherd's Bush (West London, of course) until 10 to 8 - 80 miles in 2 1/2 hours! D'oh!

Got into the stalls floor amongst the usual collection of medieval roadies, rockers and acid casualties that comprise the Trick's audience, and took up a good viewing spot stage right for support McQueen. An all-girl 4-piece, they were screaming rawk chicks in basques playing some kind of sub-Hole grungy rock. Rach played spot-the-work-colleague-resemblance, while I watched the drummer who seemed to be having an absolute whale of a time ("I'm a girl! I hit things! That's my JOB!"), and we actually almost enjoyed some of their numbers. Almost.

Cheap Trick sauntered on at 9, drummer Bun E Carlos first, as usual, to lay down the beat, and vocalist Robin Zander then led them into "On Top Of the World", a shuddering opener. A quite brilliant - unexpectedly so! - "I Can't Make It Alone" followed, all strident chorus and urgent passion, before the set veered off into uncharted territory. It became clear early on (Rick Nielsen commenting about the fans having, "helped to write this set") that this gig was a fan club special, da Trick playing a whole tranche of more obscure oldies from their canon of work, which the hardcore devotees around us lapped up. Despite unfamiliarity, we were still bowled over by this set, as it lived up to the Trick's usual high level of sheer rocking entertainment. And there was still the usual faves - a breathlessly fast "I Want You To Want Me", an epic, soaring "Tonight It's You", the inevitable 5-necked guitar during an awesome "Surrender" to close the set, and encore "Dream Police". In the meantime we had Rick's usual monologues, and the sight of Nielsen getting some dumb bloke chucked out for throwing beer on him. Quite right too! Counterpoint this with the supreme cool of Robin Zander, and once again the veteran Trick showed age is no barrier to greatness.

So, well worth the car-mare here. Of course, the journey home took half as long and we were home by midnight. Right result!

640 THE 2004 "V" FESTIVAL (Saturday only), Weston Park, Staffordshire, Saturday 21 August 2004

Yup, we're trying the "Grown-ups" Festival! A couple of reasons for this;

1. the Reading Festival line-up is shite, so we're only doing one day there;
2. I originally thought that this Saturday was the day we were dropping Evan off in North Wales after his Summer 2 weeks with us. Wrong!
3. The Pixies! We'd totally failed to get tickets for their recent Brixton Academy run, so this was the best chance to see the reformed Boston Rock pioneers.

So we set off at 9 am, joining the queue off the M6 J12 at 11ish, and encountering slow-moving traffic along the A5, nevertheless still parking in the Weston Park car park just after 12. One immediate impression of this Festival is the size of the site - it took nearly half an hour to walk from car to arena, then the arena itself seemed nearly twice the size of Reading. We took a wander around while KOSHEEN played on the main stage - weak bland funk, with most songs sounding either like M People, or like TV ad music. Rachel couldn't even drown it out with beer, as she wasn't prepared to queue for tokens to buy beer, then queue for beer as well! Still wandering around the stalls during JAMIE CULLUM'S mainstage jazz set. He attempted some vocal gymnastics but ended up like a bellower rather than a singer; he's not really even very good at what he's trying to do, and the cover of "High And Dry" was even duller than Radiohead's version!

We found our first highlight of the day - the Hog Roast stand! - then after lunch we wandered over near the backstage entrance to hear SNOW PATROL, next up on the main stage. The Scots indie survivors, currently enjoying a high profile, kicked off with 3 corking numbers, all rocking, swirling, upbeat pop, with current single "Run" coming over all MBV with its' atmospheric mid-section. Then, just as they were beginning to surprise and delight, they blanded out with some plodding rock of the Travis/ Coldplay ilk. Very disappointing; this set was the definition of "started well then faded".

So we took a wander to the other end of the park, to the smaller but still open-air NME stage. MULL HISTORICAL SOCIETY were rounding off their poorly attended set with their eponymous signature tune, the greying vocalist looking even more like an accountant these days! Then everyone left, so we took a position right on the barriers for the first real musical highlight of the day. FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE sauntered onstage after an interminable soundcheck, kicked into "I've Got A Flair", then the sun came out! The Fountains have been missing in action for awhile, due to similar (but thankfully not as terminal) record company wranglings to those which beset fellow power-popsters the Gigolo Aunts, but are enjoying a high profile at the moment thanks to flippant, teen-friendly recent single "Stacy's Mom" and the heavy-rotation MTV2 video. Today they provided the perfect soundtrack to a hazily sunny Summer Saturday, with an immaculately chosen set, which read as follows;

I'VE GOT A FLAIR; DENISE; NO BETTER PLACE; RED DRAGON TATTOO; HEY JULIE; MEXICAN WINE; STACY'S MOM; RADIATION VIBE; SURVIVAL CAR; SINK TO THE BOTTOM

Totally encapsulating their summery vibe, "Stacy's Mom" predictably got a great reception, but "Radiation Vibe" was the real highlight. The perfect band at the perfect time.

Saw 3 numbers of the crap ZUTONS set, then trekked around again. Next up for us were the mainstage THRILLS, who unfortunately timed their set with the clouds rolling over, and thus were a bit hit and miss with their 60's Byrds-ian pop. Closer "Santa Cruz" got the best reaction after a disappointingly patchy set from a potential highlight. Tea then shopping, then over within earshot of BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB'S sleazed-up, dirty rock'n'roll set, all attitude but a little thin on distinguishable tunes. Ironically they mucked up "Punk Song", their best number. But never mind, we were only going to see half of their set anyway...

It was the witching hour. Time to join the large and expectant throng by mainstage, as dusk began to wrap a mysterious and symbolic shroud over the arena. Time for the denouement, the reason why we (and half the punters in this crowd, I'd wager) were here anyway.

Time for THE PIXIES! "Another Boston band showing the rest how it's done," I remarked back in 1988, and 16 years later they've reformed, their legend and legacy now firmly established, to once again show the rest how it's done. Tonight was a revelation, a triumph, a display of awesome power and precision. Drawing mainly from their first 2 full-length collections of rock, sex, sleaze, Spanish-tinged songs of incest and debasement, they were brilliant from the off. The angular, off-kilter beat of "Bone Machine", the metronomic, haunting "River Euphrates", the nonsensical, amphetamine-fast "Isla De Encanta", the inevitable sing-alongs for "Monkey Gone To Heaven" and "Debaser" (although this knowledgeable crowd, a mix of old rockers and first-timers, sang along to most of the numbers anyway), Kim Deal's pre-emptive grunge prototype "Gigantic", the trad but no less powerful "UMass". All were highlights, but in my view the tense, taut "Tame" eclipsed them all, Frank bellowing the hookline like an old sabretooth cat come to reclaim its' kingdom.

A stretched "Vamos", featuring Joey Santiago coaxing unearthly noises from his effects pedals, was followed by a slow "Wave Of Mutilation", before The Pixies soaked up the applause for a good few minutes before leaving.

And so did we! Headliners The Strokes had not a chance in hell of following that, so we (and a fair few others) headed back to the car park, getting home for 11. Best band of V - you really need to ask?

And the set of the day went thus;

BONE MACHINE
CRACKITY JONES
SOMETHING AGAINST YOU
RIVER EUPHRATES
WAVE OF MUTILATION (FAST)
BROKEN FACE
ISLA DE ENCANTA
I BLEED
NUMBER 13 BABY
CACTUS
HEY
MR. GRIEVES
MONKEY GONE TO HEAVEN
GIGANTIC
GOUGE AWAY
DEAD
DEBASER
TAME
CARIBOU
UMASS
VELOURIA
PLANET OF SOUND
WHERE IS MY MIND?
NIMROD'S SON
VAMOS
WAVE OF MUTILATION (SLOW)