A delayed restart to post-Reading gig proceedings, thanks to the lorry drivers' fuel protest blockades forcing the postponement and eventual cancellation of a scheduled Drugstore gig (bummer, but I'm with the lorry drivers on this one, and it's not like we've not seen Drugstore before...). Still, I never expected to drive tonight, but lorry driver Ady had to pull out at short notice. So, hastily redrawn plans...
Hit the venue at 8.15 to hear bad news, scheduled support The Llama Farmers had also ducked out at short notice! D'oh! So we were left with Grebo, a painfully young local act booked earlier that day, and who were obviously playing to their biggest ever audience. Nevertheless, they showed potential with good attitude, energy and punky guitar licks. A couple more tunes to augment the youthful adrenaline buzz, and we might be on to something...
Beforehand, I had a nose through a couple of junk CD boxes on the merch counter and found a prime slice of rock, namely Tommy Keene's "Songs From The Film", amongst the Creation Records castoffs. Result! I don't think the merch guy was too pleased when I offered a measly £5 for 4 CDs, but he took the cash nonetheless!
The Crocketts have been Rachel's main obsession since Reading Festival, thanks to their passionate, incendiary, Irish-tinged punk rock. Tonight, led by crazed, St. Vitus Dance addled vocalist Davey McManus, they put on a fine performance of vim, venom and vitriol. McManus is a continual visual focus, with tension, bodily tics and twitches and neck-bulging effort all featured throughout. "Lucifer", a breathless opener, was the highlight until "On Something", delivered by McManus in the middle of a frenzied and incredibly young moshpit. A wild "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" (yes, that one...) delivered by the bassist in Jesus robes and a Freddy Mercury comedy 'tache, was an unexpected end to an agitated, confrontational yet entertaining night. More power to 'em!
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
458 KENT, London Scala, Monday 25 September 2000
Bit of a nightmare journey to this one; picked up Rachel and her colleague James, then drove through the driving rain to drop him off in Reading. Then we got lost in Reading's terrible contraflows and heavy traffic, eventually getting back onto the M4 45 minutes later! So, following a fuel stop, we eventually parked up in Kings Cross at 8.30 - a full 3 1/2 hours after we'd set off. D'oh!
So we got into the relatively newly opened Scala, an upstairs version of the LA2, with lots of balconies and steps, well in time to miss support Rico, but thankfully in enough time to join the surprisingly large crowd stage right for Kent's arrival just after 9.
In comparison with their note-perfect Reading Festival set, Kent's performance tonight was, I'm glad to report, considerably more rock'n'roll. Admittedly I had my head in the speakers again, but the sound was glaring to start with before it eventually settled down. Kent, however, rocked! Their set, drawn heavily from atmospheric new album "Hagnesta Hill", was portrayed with considerably more power and oomph, and their brooding majestic ballads really took flight. "Revolt III" had power and pace and was an early highlight, "Quiet Heart" touching and intimate, and set closer "If You Were Here" strident and anthemic. Vocalist Joakim Berg put on a really energetic show and was the focal point throughout.
And then, waiting for the encore, we discovered why the place was so full - it was full of Kent's fellow Swedes! No roly-bags in evidence, but it appeared half the audience were Swedish or Scandinavian of some sort. However, encores "Music Non-Stop" and the imperious "747" topped a great show from a band who are coming close to eclipsing even The Wannadies as Top Swedish band, amazingly. And, thanks to a prompt 10.20 finish, the journey home took less than half the time of the journey up!
So we got into the relatively newly opened Scala, an upstairs version of the LA2, with lots of balconies and steps, well in time to miss support Rico, but thankfully in enough time to join the surprisingly large crowd stage right for Kent's arrival just after 9.
In comparison with their note-perfect Reading Festival set, Kent's performance tonight was, I'm glad to report, considerably more rock'n'roll. Admittedly I had my head in the speakers again, but the sound was glaring to start with before it eventually settled down. Kent, however, rocked! Their set, drawn heavily from atmospheric new album "Hagnesta Hill", was portrayed with considerably more power and oomph, and their brooding majestic ballads really took flight. "Revolt III" had power and pace and was an early highlight, "Quiet Heart" touching and intimate, and set closer "If You Were Here" strident and anthemic. Vocalist Joakim Berg put on a really energetic show and was the focal point throughout.
And then, waiting for the encore, we discovered why the place was so full - it was full of Kent's fellow Swedes! No roly-bags in evidence, but it appeared half the audience were Swedish or Scandinavian of some sort. However, encores "Music Non-Stop" and the imperious "747" topped a great show from a band who are coming close to eclipsing even The Wannadies as Top Swedish band, amazingly. And, thanks to a prompt 10.20 finish, the journey home took less than half the time of the journey up!
459 THE SHAZAM, Myracle Brah, Farrah, London Camden Underworld, Wednesday 27 September 2000
Two London gigs in one week isn't the way I normally do things, being the venerable age of 35 and all, but as I'm leaving my job at the end of this week I don't really care! So, off Rachel and I did trot, and following a reasonable run in foul weather, we parked on Camden High Street and hit this venue - amazingly, a new one on me! - just before 8. Having sussed out the complicated one-way system around the bar to the stage and "pit" dancefloor (quite literally), we were well in place for openers Farrah at 8.
Our friend Clive had tipped Farrah, and we could immediately tell why, as they burst brightly and janglily (!) into set opener "Harold Bishop". The vocalist, who facially reminded me of Data from Star Trek (!!) was an energetic presence and the band complemented him well with some fine push'n'shove powerpop, with instant hooks and strong choruses. You never noticed from this performance that they were down one member, attending a wedding (tuh! priorities!). "Terry" and the instantly memorable "Living For The Weekend", singles both, were strong highlights of a fine pop set from a band I'll see again, hopefully repeatedly!
Myracle Brah followed sharply after at 8.45, and were also superb. A very tough and powerfully played set of Teenage Fanclub/ Posies-like big heartfelt songs and harmonies which occasionally left me agog, and if the set occasionally slightly wavered into wig-out rock riffery, how can I hold a grudge against a band who has such an achingly heartbreaking, soaringly wonderful song as "She's So Young", an open-top drive through the Beach Boys' back catalogue, with a stop at the Posies filling station on the way? My last Myracle Brah live experience left me thinking they're one to watch; that impression was confirmed in spades, and underlined by the splendid Sterlings-esque new single "I'd Rather Be". Harmonic, melodic, deliciously powerful "live" - what more could I really want??
Well, how about some huge, swaying, stadium-filling (in a parallel universe, surely!) big rock choruses, and Cheap Trick style chunky riffs and hooks, for something? Well, then let's bring on Nashville's finest, The Shazam! Finally headlining (so we had the full near-hour experience), and with the sound sorted to almost pindrop-perfect, Hans and the boys did it total justice with a committed performance of power and gusto. From the mega intro into "Super Tuesday" I was rocking and singing every word, a point not lost on guitarist Jeremy afterwards! So many highlights from excellent hook-laden album "Godspeed The Shazam", but melancholic rock ballad "Some Other Time" stood out, as did their overall love of playing, when they squeezed an unexpected encore into their performance. Chatted to Jeremy and Hans afterwards, and was pleasantly surprised to note that they'd remembered we'd driven from Swindon for their last show! Also had a couple of words (exiting the gents!) with Myracle Brah frontman Andy Bopp, a big guy with a vice-like handshake, before hitting the road.
Verdict on a fine triple-header? Well, Farrah were a fine You Am I-like new delight, Myracle Brah underlined and enhanced a growing rep, but for me the sparkling Shazam won the night!
Our friend Clive had tipped Farrah, and we could immediately tell why, as they burst brightly and janglily (!) into set opener "Harold Bishop". The vocalist, who facially reminded me of Data from Star Trek (!!) was an energetic presence and the band complemented him well with some fine push'n'shove powerpop, with instant hooks and strong choruses. You never noticed from this performance that they were down one member, attending a wedding (tuh! priorities!). "Terry" and the instantly memorable "Living For The Weekend", singles both, were strong highlights of a fine pop set from a band I'll see again, hopefully repeatedly!
Myracle Brah followed sharply after at 8.45, and were also superb. A very tough and powerfully played set of Teenage Fanclub/ Posies-like big heartfelt songs and harmonies which occasionally left me agog, and if the set occasionally slightly wavered into wig-out rock riffery, how can I hold a grudge against a band who has such an achingly heartbreaking, soaringly wonderful song as "She's So Young", an open-top drive through the Beach Boys' back catalogue, with a stop at the Posies filling station on the way? My last Myracle Brah live experience left me thinking they're one to watch; that impression was confirmed in spades, and underlined by the splendid Sterlings-esque new single "I'd Rather Be". Harmonic, melodic, deliciously powerful "live" - what more could I really want??
Well, how about some huge, swaying, stadium-filling (in a parallel universe, surely!) big rock choruses, and Cheap Trick style chunky riffs and hooks, for something? Well, then let's bring on Nashville's finest, The Shazam! Finally headlining (so we had the full near-hour experience), and with the sound sorted to almost pindrop-perfect, Hans and the boys did it total justice with a committed performance of power and gusto. From the mega intro into "Super Tuesday" I was rocking and singing every word, a point not lost on guitarist Jeremy afterwards! So many highlights from excellent hook-laden album "Godspeed The Shazam", but melancholic rock ballad "Some Other Time" stood out, as did their overall love of playing, when they squeezed an unexpected encore into their performance. Chatted to Jeremy and Hans afterwards, and was pleasantly surprised to note that they'd remembered we'd driven from Swindon for their last show! Also had a couple of words (exiting the gents!) with Myracle Brah frontman Andy Bopp, a big guy with a vice-like handshake, before hitting the road.
Verdict on a fine triple-header? Well, Farrah were a fine You Am I-like new delight, Myracle Brah underlined and enhanced a growing rep, but for me the sparkling Shazam won the night!
460 JULIAN COPE, Salisbury City Hall, Friday 13 October 2000
The intended 3 troubadours became 2 after Peej, struggling to shake off a cold, cried off late on. So Rachel disrupted her CIPS study weekend in Milton Keynes to drive cross-country and pick me up for the trip across Marlborough Downs to Sarum, accompanied by a clear full moon. All very Cope!
Amazingly, this was my first trip to Salisbury for rock, so unsurprisingly we got lost, driving past our turn-off while I was looking in vain for a signpost for The City Hall (a not unimportant building, one would assume from the name). So, a confusing trip around the one way system later, we parked up at 8 and scuttled over to the venue, getting into our 2nd row, stage left (and bloody good view!) seats just as Cope was finishing first number "Upwards At 45 Degrees". Visually, Julian was as stunningly unorthodox as ever; huge platform boots, skin-tight leggings leaving you in no doubt that Julian dresses to the left, a blue combat waistcoat, and all topped off with the exploding hair and a face and neck daubed in orange and blue woad.
The first few numbers passed in a shimmer of spaced-out spangly acoustic guitar, drawing mainly from the post-"Peggy Suicide" earthly awakening of Cope's history. The stuff was pretty absorbing, especially the well-received "Autogeddon Blues", prompting somewhat of a re-appraisal of this period of Cope music of my part. Cope himself was once again a splendidly entertaining focal presence and raconteur as he espoused his view of the world and all within it, whenever the opportunity arose. Following a splendid "Sunspots", played "gratuitously" on a double-necked guitar ("as it's one of my simplest songs," quoth the Cope), Jools hiked off the stage for a prowl around the audience, his theory being that great rock'n'roll only needs a front-man (and with a front-man like Cope, who could argue?). Hopping back onstage, Cope then delivered "Me Singing" from 1984's "Fried" album, which for its touching emotiveness was my highlight of the night. Superb.
One then became two, as Julian introduced old partner in crime Donald Ross Skinner to back him up for a couple of numbers, including "Laughing Boy" and a marvellously spooky (and unexpected!) "Sleeping Gas", the Teardrop Explodes' first single from over 22 years ago! Donn-eye held the absorbing monotone rhythm firm as Cope, again, prowled around the audience, masterful and menacing. This, amazingly, took us up to the advertised "100 Minutes With Julian Cope" but Cope, decreeing every subsequent song an encore, stayed with us for a rousing send-off, culminating in a toy organ-led (Donn-eye again) "Jellypop Perky Jean" and an amazing "Pristeen", beautiful in it's haunting, wounded simplicity.
And at that point the Cope departed to a deserved standing ovation, having delivered over 2 hours of amazing, totally riveting and visually stunning entertainment. He seemed as reluctant to leave the stage as we were for him to go, and he exhorted us to all return when he plays "Old Sarum" in the future (having consistently referred to Salisbury throughout the set as "New" Sarum!). I got tour t-shirted up at the merch stand in celebration of a most forward-thinking mofo. Copey, once again, was more than just "ok" (as some girls shouted from the audience, causing Julian to run excitedly across the stage and sarcastically tell Donn-eye). As we left New Sarum (no wrong turnings this time!) we had no doubt we'd been in the presence of a fried yet totally awesome talent. Superb - no less!
Amazingly, this was my first trip to Salisbury for rock, so unsurprisingly we got lost, driving past our turn-off while I was looking in vain for a signpost for The City Hall (a not unimportant building, one would assume from the name). So, a confusing trip around the one way system later, we parked up at 8 and scuttled over to the venue, getting into our 2nd row, stage left (and bloody good view!) seats just as Cope was finishing first number "Upwards At 45 Degrees". Visually, Julian was as stunningly unorthodox as ever; huge platform boots, skin-tight leggings leaving you in no doubt that Julian dresses to the left, a blue combat waistcoat, and all topped off with the exploding hair and a face and neck daubed in orange and blue woad.
The first few numbers passed in a shimmer of spaced-out spangly acoustic guitar, drawing mainly from the post-"Peggy Suicide" earthly awakening of Cope's history. The stuff was pretty absorbing, especially the well-received "Autogeddon Blues", prompting somewhat of a re-appraisal of this period of Cope music of my part. Cope himself was once again a splendidly entertaining focal presence and raconteur as he espoused his view of the world and all within it, whenever the opportunity arose. Following a splendid "Sunspots", played "gratuitously" on a double-necked guitar ("as it's one of my simplest songs," quoth the Cope), Jools hiked off the stage for a prowl around the audience, his theory being that great rock'n'roll only needs a front-man (and with a front-man like Cope, who could argue?). Hopping back onstage, Cope then delivered "Me Singing" from 1984's "Fried" album, which for its touching emotiveness was my highlight of the night. Superb.
One then became two, as Julian introduced old partner in crime Donald Ross Skinner to back him up for a couple of numbers, including "Laughing Boy" and a marvellously spooky (and unexpected!) "Sleeping Gas", the Teardrop Explodes' first single from over 22 years ago! Donn-eye held the absorbing monotone rhythm firm as Cope, again, prowled around the audience, masterful and menacing. This, amazingly, took us up to the advertised "100 Minutes With Julian Cope" but Cope, decreeing every subsequent song an encore, stayed with us for a rousing send-off, culminating in a toy organ-led (Donn-eye again) "Jellypop Perky Jean" and an amazing "Pristeen", beautiful in it's haunting, wounded simplicity.
And at that point the Cope departed to a deserved standing ovation, having delivered over 2 hours of amazing, totally riveting and visually stunning entertainment. He seemed as reluctant to leave the stage as we were for him to go, and he exhorted us to all return when he plays "Old Sarum" in the future (having consistently referred to Salisbury throughout the set as "New" Sarum!). I got tour t-shirted up at the merch stand in celebration of a most forward-thinking mofo. Copey, once again, was more than just "ok" (as some girls shouted from the audience, causing Julian to run excitedly across the stage and sarcastically tell Donn-eye). As we left New Sarum (no wrong turnings this time!) we had no doubt we'd been in the presence of a fried yet totally awesome talent. Superb - no less!
461 THE JUPITER PROJECT, "Upstairs At The Middle East"; 462 84 WEST, The Audiants, TT The Bear's Place, Cambridge, MA USA, Tuesday 17 October 2000
Another trip to Boston! This one's a quick, late-planned flight and we're desperately seeking Seafood! That, however, is gig 463; this is just the arrival day. Rachel and I leave Blighty at 1pm, flying via Iceland, and arriving in Boston at 6.30, meeting "mine host" Michael Paulo at the airport. We dump stuff at his place then head over to The Middle East, not for Polak as anticipated, as they'd cancelled their UK dates thus scuppering an early highlight (bugger!), but instead to see Michael's friends The Jupiter Project. Unfortunately, they're awful; a couple of half-formed ideas put haphazardly into practice, together with a vocalist who really can't sing a note. Michael says he doesn't go see them often, for fear of giving offence if asked his opinion. We leave sharpish, and head round to TT's, where we're greeted enthusiastically by doorman and Wheat bassist Kevin Camara, who turns out to be a familiar face this trip, and who also looks the other way as we duck in without paying!
The Audiants are on and prove a better bet than the Jupiter Project, all slow-burning tunes and atmospheric shimmering guitars, not a million miles removed from Kent. Shame I'm too jet-lagged and dosed up with a cold to care too much. Rach and I settle for ducking into the pool room to open the proverbial can of whup-ass on Michael. We then catch a bit of the pleasant but bland strum-along 84 West set, then head off for an early night. Tomorrow's what we're here for, after all!
The Audiants are on and prove a better bet than the Jupiter Project, all slow-burning tunes and atmospheric shimmering guitars, not a million miles removed from Kent. Shame I'm too jet-lagged and dosed up with a cold to care too much. Rach and I settle for ducking into the pool room to open the proverbial can of whup-ass on Michael. We then catch a bit of the pleasant but bland strum-along 84 West set, then head off for an early night. Tomorrow's what we're here for, after all!
463 SEAFOOD, Jebediah, The Somerville Theater, Cambridge, MA USA, Wednesday 18 October 2000
This particular Boston trip is built around catching UK faves Seafood on their first ever US show, in Boston. We also aimed to play "mine host" to da 'Food for awhile in Beantown, but this doesn't happen as they only arrive at 5 pm at a rainy Somerville Theater backstage door. We'd spent the day visiting Q, hanging out with rock'n'roll carpenter (!) Clayton Scoble of Francine, then just waiting for da 'Food in Davis, standing in the rain watching all the other bands on this 6-band showpiece arrive backstage, while they'd apparently spent the day trying to escape from Salem! So we don't get to take them over to Fort Apache as arranged, and Rach and I pop over there briefly ourselves, thanking the Fort's Eric Marcos for his intended but ultimately unnecessary hospitality. Back to rainy Davis for the gig - thankfully Kevin Seafood had put us on the list, which is good as the cover is $12! We hit the front straight away at 6.15, as Seafood are first on. They emerge at a ridiculously early 6.50; none of the Bostonians we'd told about the show had turned up, not surprising given that a) it's early, b) it's in Davis, c) it's a seated gig and d) it's raining!
However, they all miss a treat as Seafood maintain current form with a magnificent set. A self-effacing start with "Led By Bison" - "a slow one to start with, because, well, we can," quoth David - leads into an incendiary "Porchlight", with David exhorting the small but happily larger than expected early doors crowd to sing along (!). Coats are discarded as Rachel and I become a 2 person moshpit despite our colds! Well, the pressure's off, it's their first ever show in both the US and in a seated venue, no one (except Rachel and myself!) is here really to see them, so these facts conspire to allow da 'Food to deliver a relaxed yet typically colourful, jagged and acerbic performance. "Guntrip" and "This Is Not An Exit" - the latter optimistically described by David as, "a top 40 hit back in the UK" - are spiky brattish shards of sonic delight, whilst "Cloaking", a new number dedicated by Kevin to Rach and myself - "because they don't know it" - demonstrates they're not mellowing with age. But the true highlight is the cacophonous "Folk Song Crisis", as Seafood really cut loose with power and ferocious abandon. The awesome climax, with feedback swathing the stunned crowd and David raging endlessly at the dying of the light, is as good as I've ever seen this band, instantly making the 3,500 mile trip to see a band we'd previously seen 30 miles away in Oxford (!) utterly worthwhile.
As we collect our thoughts and brain cells in the foyer afterwards, in search of liquid sustenance, we run into Kevin Camara, whom we'd seen earlier whilst hanging out at Davis waiting for Seafood, and to whom I'd uttered those immortal words, "at least it's not raining", thus precipitating a biblical downpour. All afternoon. Kev takes us to the nearby Somehow Cafe for drinks, and we return to catch some of Antipodeans Jebediah. Dynamic, Offspring-y grunge rock which I would have tapped a toe to, were it not for the brilliance we'd witnessed earlier. Luckily Kevin is well known around these parts, so we head backstage and hang out with da 'Food for awhile. It's fun to see our 2 favourite bassists called Kevin sat together, although I neglect to immortalise the moment with a picture. Forgive me, I'm not well, and I've got other things on my mind, namely getting to gig 2 of the night!
However, they all miss a treat as Seafood maintain current form with a magnificent set. A self-effacing start with "Led By Bison" - "a slow one to start with, because, well, we can," quoth David - leads into an incendiary "Porchlight", with David exhorting the small but happily larger than expected early doors crowd to sing along (!). Coats are discarded as Rachel and I become a 2 person moshpit despite our colds! Well, the pressure's off, it's their first ever show in both the US and in a seated venue, no one (except Rachel and myself!) is here really to see them, so these facts conspire to allow da 'Food to deliver a relaxed yet typically colourful, jagged and acerbic performance. "Guntrip" and "This Is Not An Exit" - the latter optimistically described by David as, "a top 40 hit back in the UK" - are spiky brattish shards of sonic delight, whilst "Cloaking", a new number dedicated by Kevin to Rach and myself - "because they don't know it" - demonstrates they're not mellowing with age. But the true highlight is the cacophonous "Folk Song Crisis", as Seafood really cut loose with power and ferocious abandon. The awesome climax, with feedback swathing the stunned crowd and David raging endlessly at the dying of the light, is as good as I've ever seen this band, instantly making the 3,500 mile trip to see a band we'd previously seen 30 miles away in Oxford (!) utterly worthwhile.
As we collect our thoughts and brain cells in the foyer afterwards, in search of liquid sustenance, we run into Kevin Camara, whom we'd seen earlier whilst hanging out at Davis waiting for Seafood, and to whom I'd uttered those immortal words, "at least it's not raining", thus precipitating a biblical downpour. All afternoon. Kev takes us to the nearby Somehow Cafe for drinks, and we return to catch some of Antipodeans Jebediah. Dynamic, Offspring-y grunge rock which I would have tapped a toe to, were it not for the brilliance we'd witnessed earlier. Luckily Kevin is well known around these parts, so we head backstage and hang out with da 'Food for awhile. It's fun to see our 2 favourite bassists called Kevin sat together, although I neglect to immortalise the moment with a picture. Forgive me, I'm not well, and I've got other things on my mind, namely getting to gig 2 of the night!
464 EVAN DANDO, Chris Brokaw and Thalia Zedek, The Brattle Theater, Cambridge, MA USA, Wednesday 18 October 2000
Gig 2 of tonight after Seafood's US debut, and fun though hanging backstage with your favourite UK band undoubtedly is, there comes a time to depart. Or decamp, as it were, as Seafood had managed to wangle guest-list slots for the Evan Dando show, and they hit the Brattle too, a little after Rachel and myself. I believe they avoided having to stand in the rain, which Rach and I had to do, which does our colds no good at all. But hey, at least we get good seats - yup, this is another seated venue!
Following a painfully long and fiddly soundcheck, the opening act gets under way. The un-named 4-piece features Chris Brokaw and Thalia Zedek of early 90's Boston saddo-rockers Come, plus a couple of Kens as back-up. Thalia takes vocal chores and delivers a mournful, moody set of blues-tinged numbers, which promise to be smoky and torch-like but in my shivery, cold-ridden state come off as leaden and painfully dull. Rachel has the right idea - she falls asleep during each number, waking briefly at the end to clap politely then promptly nod back off again! A neat trick, which even former gig pal Clive at his somnambulant best couldn't have pulled off!
In the interval I get to chatting with the chap sat next to me, who has a set-list from tonight's first show (this also being the second of a double-header for Evan!) which I beckon Kevin and David Seafood to come over and check out. The guy turns out to be Geoff Van Duyne, an old buddy of Steve Hurley's. Small world. He gives me a copy of his band Army Of Jasons' CD, which subsequently turns out to be a damn fine listen. Thanks Geoff. We also get to introduce Kev to a stunned John Dragonetti and girlfriend Blake; stunned because a) Rach and I are in town, and b) Kev's actually heard of Jack Drag!
Places again for the emergence of Evan at 11. It's been a heck of a long lay-off (Reading Festival 1997) and with Evan's renowned appetite for, erm, "recreational pharmaceuticals", I wondered what shape he'd be in, particularly in the "naked artist" format of a solo acoustic show. I needn't have worried, however, as tonight Evan is in rude health and delivers an utterly glorious and majestic show. Lifting from the entire spectrum of the Lemonheads' quality recorded canon of work (yup, even the punk rock roots, "Mallo Cup", "Hate Your Friends" and "I Am A Rabbit" being delivered late-on with the requisite vim and vigour), Evan, stripped bare musically but for an acoustic guitar, is clear as a bell, mesmeric and magnificent. The songs, also stripped bare, reveal themselves to be simple yet stunningly effective pop gems in full bloom, particularly "Turnpike Down", "Shame About Ray" and the brilliant "Stove". Evan concentrates on the vocals, leaving audience control and communication to a single shrug or startlingly effective raised eyebrow. And the voice is incredible - pitch-perfect and superb irrespective of whether interpreting silliness (an odd number about "homos") or complex blues numbers, acapella. Everything is delivered with effortless genius.
The encore brings on Ben Kweller, the former Radish vocalist and still-young (19?) musical prodigy. Ben and Evan dovetail in superbly together, with a fine "Hospital" and some more blues being played with aplomb. Overall, though, the 1 hour 40 minute performance utterly flies by, and I leave convinced I'd witnessed a musical resurrection. Tonight belongs to Evan Dando! (Well, Evan and the cab driver who picks us up after less than a minute in the teeming Harvard rain afterwards!).
Following a painfully long and fiddly soundcheck, the opening act gets under way. The un-named 4-piece features Chris Brokaw and Thalia Zedek of early 90's Boston saddo-rockers Come, plus a couple of Kens as back-up. Thalia takes vocal chores and delivers a mournful, moody set of blues-tinged numbers, which promise to be smoky and torch-like but in my shivery, cold-ridden state come off as leaden and painfully dull. Rachel has the right idea - she falls asleep during each number, waking briefly at the end to clap politely then promptly nod back off again! A neat trick, which even former gig pal Clive at his somnambulant best couldn't have pulled off!
In the interval I get to chatting with the chap sat next to me, who has a set-list from tonight's first show (this also being the second of a double-header for Evan!) which I beckon Kevin and David Seafood to come over and check out. The guy turns out to be Geoff Van Duyne, an old buddy of Steve Hurley's. Small world. He gives me a copy of his band Army Of Jasons' CD, which subsequently turns out to be a damn fine listen. Thanks Geoff. We also get to introduce Kev to a stunned John Dragonetti and girlfriend Blake; stunned because a) Rach and I are in town, and b) Kev's actually heard of Jack Drag!
Places again for the emergence of Evan at 11. It's been a heck of a long lay-off (Reading Festival 1997) and with Evan's renowned appetite for, erm, "recreational pharmaceuticals", I wondered what shape he'd be in, particularly in the "naked artist" format of a solo acoustic show. I needn't have worried, however, as tonight Evan is in rude health and delivers an utterly glorious and majestic show. Lifting from the entire spectrum of the Lemonheads' quality recorded canon of work (yup, even the punk rock roots, "Mallo Cup", "Hate Your Friends" and "I Am A Rabbit" being delivered late-on with the requisite vim and vigour), Evan, stripped bare musically but for an acoustic guitar, is clear as a bell, mesmeric and magnificent. The songs, also stripped bare, reveal themselves to be simple yet stunningly effective pop gems in full bloom, particularly "Turnpike Down", "Shame About Ray" and the brilliant "Stove". Evan concentrates on the vocals, leaving audience control and communication to a single shrug or startlingly effective raised eyebrow. And the voice is incredible - pitch-perfect and superb irrespective of whether interpreting silliness (an odd number about "homos") or complex blues numbers, acapella. Everything is delivered with effortless genius.
The encore brings on Ben Kweller, the former Radish vocalist and still-young (19?) musical prodigy. Ben and Evan dovetail in superbly together, with a fine "Hospital" and some more blues being played with aplomb. Overall, though, the 1 hour 40 minute performance utterly flies by, and I leave convinced I'd witnessed a musical resurrection. Tonight belongs to Evan Dando! (Well, Evan and the cab driver who picks us up after less than a minute in the teeming Harvard rain afterwards!).
Thursday, 3 June 2010
465 PEDRO THE LION, Middle East "Upstairs", Cambridge, MA USA, Thursday 19 October 2000
Day 3 of this short sharp Boston trip; a plan to go to New York is scuppered, but no problem, as we get to lunch with Gary Waleik instead, and do some shopping in Newbury Street and Quincy Market before tonight's gig double-header. First we're off to The Middle East, meeting Kevin Camara there. Kev is keen for us to check out supports Julie Doran and Damon Jurado, but I'm keener to grab some food! So we grab a table in The Middle East and eat, Kev joining us for a chat, then we head into the busy and small upstairs room. Pedro The Lion are a band that our Boston friends Michael and Mark rave over, and they're certainly intriguing and absorbing in parts, calling to mind the touching melody of Grandaddy (not to mention the beards!). However, at other times they're very very quiet and frustratingly slow - not so much slow-fi as stationery-fi!
I concede that I'd have done better with some prior knowledge of their material, but for me the Lion sleeps tonight (ouch!). We slip off at this point and grab a "T" to gig 2!
I concede that I'd have done better with some prior knowledge of their material, but for me the Lion sleeps tonight (ouch!). We slip off at this point and grab a "T" to gig 2!
466 SENOR HAPPY, Feedback, Bills Bar, Boston, MA USA, Thursday 19 October 2000
Each time so far I've been in Boston, The Happy have had a gig scheduled! This trip is no exception, as Rachel and I hit Bills Bar at 10ish after The Pedro The Lion gig earlier, running into incredulous Happy boys Tom Polce and Joe McMahon for greetings and chat. We stop to pay attention to support Feedback, who play some good shiny US pop rock, slightly derivative but fun nevertheless, recalling such as The Knack, apart from the final number which shamelessly appropriates the chorus riff from Nick Lowe's "Cruel To Be Kind"! The DJ makes a note of this too, by playing the "original" immediately after their set. By this time James Horrigan has joined us, and following the usual greetings we launch into a critique of plagiarism in music! Typical James!
Senor Happy take the stage (amazingly, this is the first time I've seen them on a stage, the other 2 occasions being at the Lizard Lounge) at 11. I never tire of mentioning that "live" The Happy are a seriously tougher proposition than their slightly understated, almost countrified bedsit angsty pop is on record. Tonight they once again prove themselves to be tough boys in a "live" environment, with a clutch of new numbers - some even new since May - sounding completely and thoroughly sorted. With Josh Lattanzi out of town (this time with Nina Gordon's band), lead guitarist chores are taken by Bill Guerra, James' new room-mate and a former Expanding Man. His presence toughens up the sound notably, with "Soon" sounding almost punky as the superb Tom Polce brings the bombastic drumbeats very effectively.
An ace newie, "Get Up And Go Out", brings the set to a fine close, and it suddenly hits me just how tired I am. James has already cleared off at set end, so Rachel and I follow his lead, pausing only to chat briefly with EdV's ex room-mate Toirm (a Bills Bar regular, it seems), ex Sterling Pat Emswiler and Brett Rosenberg, who turns out to be a band-mate of Geoff Van Duyne from last night's Evan Dando gig. Exactly how bloody incestuous is this Boston rock scene??!!
Senor Happy take the stage (amazingly, this is the first time I've seen them on a stage, the other 2 occasions being at the Lizard Lounge) at 11. I never tire of mentioning that "live" The Happy are a seriously tougher proposition than their slightly understated, almost countrified bedsit angsty pop is on record. Tonight they once again prove themselves to be tough boys in a "live" environment, with a clutch of new numbers - some even new since May - sounding completely and thoroughly sorted. With Josh Lattanzi out of town (this time with Nina Gordon's band), lead guitarist chores are taken by Bill Guerra, James' new room-mate and a former Expanding Man. His presence toughens up the sound notably, with "Soon" sounding almost punky as the superb Tom Polce brings the bombastic drumbeats very effectively.
An ace newie, "Get Up And Go Out", brings the set to a fine close, and it suddenly hits me just how tired I am. James has already cleared off at set end, so Rachel and I follow his lead, pausing only to chat briefly with EdV's ex room-mate Toirm (a Bills Bar regular, it seems), ex Sterling Pat Emswiler and Brett Rosenberg, who turns out to be a band-mate of Geoff Van Duyne from last night's Evan Dando gig. Exactly how bloody incestuous is this Boston rock scene??!!
467 THE FLY SEVILLE, MISHIMA USA, The Curtain Society, TT The Bear's Place, Cambridge, MA USA, Friday 20 October 2000
Day 4 of this Boston trip and the 4th 2-gig night in a row! But first, a lazy morning then a meeting with Mark Kraus for lunch, before more record shopping and r'n'r, before Rachel and I hit TTs at 8.30 with the intention of saying "hey" to Kevin Camara at the door, then getting munchies at the Middle East before coming in later for the gig proper. Kevin, however, is having none of it and ushers us into the not-yet-open venue and gets the drinks in. Admittedly we don't put up too much of a fight - right, that's it, we're in! Hit the pool table with Kevin and his mate Jason Sloan, who's filling in for The Fly Seville on drums tonight. Get whupped. Hmmm, we're not dealing with our usual victims Michael and Mark here. Continue playing nevertheless through The Curtain Society's set, so I have no recollection of what they were like whatsoever. Whoops.
However, we down cues at 10 for Mishima USA. They're a different proposition - a two-piece (!) whose songs are so jangly I'd be checking my mobile phone every song (if I had one, that is). They also feature some splendid hooks (the hookline to "Frame Relay" is in my head for days afterwards, no messin') and the right amount of understated angst to mark them out as Smiths influencees rather than imitators. A band out of time in many ways, I nevertheless lap this set up. Great stuff.
In the lull before The Fly Seville, we chill with Mark Kraus who points out Brian Dunn in the audience. We re-introduce ourselves (less manically this time!), chat and gratefully receive copies of his new band The Clairvoyants' CD (if they're even a patch on The Sky Heroes, they'll be well worth it) and I take a picture to ensure we recognise him next time. I also run into Carol Hurley, who tells me her brother, former Gigolo Aunts man Steve, is due in town tonight!
This takes us up to the entrance of The Fly Seville at 11. They tuned up, turned it down and blissed out, rather than rocked out. A somewhat untypical Boston band, The Fly Seville's set is all about atmosphere, space and understatement. Second number in, "The Taj Mahal Of America" is almost Kent-like in its' sweeping range and depth, and the rest of the set also occasionally touches these slow-burning, emotive heights. Moody without being maudlin (don't mention the "R" word!) and occasionally country-tinged, although not to the point of mawkish sentimentality, The Fly Seville tug hearts rather than tap toes, and do it rather well.
They round off at 11.40, and we're off again, saying our farewells and hopping into a vacant taxi practically parked outside the venue for gig number 2 of the night. That was well done!
However, we down cues at 10 for Mishima USA. They're a different proposition - a two-piece (!) whose songs are so jangly I'd be checking my mobile phone every song (if I had one, that is). They also feature some splendid hooks (the hookline to "Frame Relay" is in my head for days afterwards, no messin') and the right amount of understated angst to mark them out as Smiths influencees rather than imitators. A band out of time in many ways, I nevertheless lap this set up. Great stuff.
In the lull before The Fly Seville, we chill with Mark Kraus who points out Brian Dunn in the audience. We re-introduce ourselves (less manically this time!), chat and gratefully receive copies of his new band The Clairvoyants' CD (if they're even a patch on The Sky Heroes, they'll be well worth it) and I take a picture to ensure we recognise him next time. I also run into Carol Hurley, who tells me her brother, former Gigolo Aunts man Steve, is due in town tonight!
This takes us up to the entrance of The Fly Seville at 11. They tuned up, turned it down and blissed out, rather than rocked out. A somewhat untypical Boston band, The Fly Seville's set is all about atmosphere, space and understatement. Second number in, "The Taj Mahal Of America" is almost Kent-like in its' sweeping range and depth, and the rest of the set also occasionally touches these slow-burning, emotive heights. Moody without being maudlin (don't mention the "R" word!) and occasionally country-tinged, although not to the point of mawkish sentimentality, The Fly Seville tug hearts rather than tap toes, and do it rather well.
They round off at 11.40, and we're off again, saying our farewells and hopping into a vacant taxi practically parked outside the venue for gig number 2 of the night. That was well done!
468 THE GRAVY, The X-Impossibles, The Linwood, Boston, MA USA, Friday 20 October 2000
Second gig of the night after The Fly Seville at TTs, and we taxi over from there, hitting the Linwood in Fenway (a dodgy part of town, according to all the guidebooks) at 11.50. The Linwood itself is a bedraggled and smoky bar-room resembling none other than the Kidderminster Market Tavern! The essence of dirty black rock'n'roll, and onstage the X-Impossibles are plying some rocket-powered but tune-free in-yr-face punk rock, straight out of the Descendents' back catalogue. Luckily, we bump into both Todd Spahr and Michael Jordan of The Gravy in quick succession. Michael in particular is as friendly and welcoming as I remembered him to be from my first Boston trip last year. Great to see them both again!
Okay, so the hour is late, and other shows - including the CMJ Festival in NYC - are clashing, but the turnout is totally dismal for this one. A handful of punters at the front are stared out by disinterested locals playing pool and huddling around the dilapidated bar as The Gravy take the stage at 12.30. They are nevertheless witness to an astonishing performance of power and precision by an utterly superb "live" rock act. I've mentioned so often that most Boston bands change for the better when onstage, but with no other band is the metamorphosis more pronounced than with The Gravy. Their brand of pop, occasionally over-complex yet always slightly-delic and brain-hugging, quite simply grows demonic wings and soars live. "Underwire" becomes a cauldron of demonic bass and sleazy dance, "The Thong" is revealed to be blues boogie of the most dynamic order, and newie "Kid Is Gone", with vocal chores split between Michael, Todd and Jim, features precision-sharp 3-part harmony worthy of The Gigolo Aunts. Yup, that good.
"Memory", though, totally crystallises the transformation, stripped of the layers of guitar on the CD version to its' core and becoming a totally kick-ass rock song with a powerful strident chorus. Exhilarating stuff - and the visuals are dynamic as well; these boys know how to put on a rock show, no messin'!
Tiredness sets in as we hang out afterwards, and once packed up, Michael kindly gives us a lift back to our digs. A fitting end to a great night and a great show from The Gravy!
Okay, so the hour is late, and other shows - including the CMJ Festival in NYC - are clashing, but the turnout is totally dismal for this one. A handful of punters at the front are stared out by disinterested locals playing pool and huddling around the dilapidated bar as The Gravy take the stage at 12.30. They are nevertheless witness to an astonishing performance of power and precision by an utterly superb "live" rock act. I've mentioned so often that most Boston bands change for the better when onstage, but with no other band is the metamorphosis more pronounced than with The Gravy. Their brand of pop, occasionally over-complex yet always slightly-delic and brain-hugging, quite simply grows demonic wings and soars live. "Underwire" becomes a cauldron of demonic bass and sleazy dance, "The Thong" is revealed to be blues boogie of the most dynamic order, and newie "Kid Is Gone", with vocal chores split between Michael, Todd and Jim, features precision-sharp 3-part harmony worthy of The Gigolo Aunts. Yup, that good.
"Memory", though, totally crystallises the transformation, stripped of the layers of guitar on the CD version to its' core and becoming a totally kick-ass rock song with a powerful strident chorus. Exhilarating stuff - and the visuals are dynamic as well; these boys know how to put on a rock show, no messin'!
Tiredness sets in as we hang out afterwards, and once packed up, Michael kindly gives us a lift back to our digs. A fitting end to a great night and a great show from The Gravy!
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
469 THE PILLS, NADA SURF, The Details, US Crush, TT The Bear's Place, Cambridge, MA USA, Saturday 21 October 2000
Day 5 and the last full day of this short Boston jaunt, and the only evening where we don't have 2 gigs on! Spend the day with Rachel shopping in Coolidge Corner before hitting the Border Cafe in Harvard. More record shopping, r'n'r, then checking up on tonight's shows. However, the plan to go see the Banjo Spiders at Lillis then head over to see The Pills is ixnayed when the Banjo Spiders are bumped up to headline, thus clashing with The Pills. One agonising (actually, not so agonising really...) choice later, we're off to TTs!
TTs really is the hangout for this trip - that's 3 shows out of 9 in the 5 days here! Unfortunately this time we have to pay to get in as our friend Kevin isn't manning the door, and EdV's not managed to get us on the guest-list via his DMod (tonight's gig sponsor) connections! No matter, we hit TTs early to ensure we get in on this expected-to-be-busy night, and catch US Crush at 9 with the few other early birds. They're a punk band from Orange County, CA, with a couple of decent songs ("Loser" - no, not the Beck number - standing out) and some Offspring-style rabble-rousing. Not too bad really, though.
The Details, on at 10, are a different kettle of fish. Featuring Brett Rosenberg, who we met a couple of days ago and who appears to be a real local guitar-for-hire, ex-Shods vocalist Dave Aaronoff, and Deb Klein of Hi-Fi Records (remember the Jed Parish in-store show? Yeah, there), they play an updated doowop style with some well-constructed songs which recall Posies side-project Chariot in their occasional Tex-Mex style. Groovy and catchy, but overall not my cup of soda-jerk and shake really, although it was good to talk to Brett and Deb again!
By this time it's heaving, and we're joined by James Horrigan and his girlfriend Sarah from North Carolina, who appears to be a female version of James - and I though they'd broken the mould after they made him! Also, John Dragonetti and Blake Hazard show up - not so surprised to see us this time - and Steve Hurley hits TTs, admitting he was "flabbergasted" when his sister, whom we'd seen earlier this week, mentioned we were in town.
"Down the front" appears to be a very crowded place for Nada Surf, a name I'm obviously alone in tonight's audience in being unfamiliar with. Da Surf are an underground 3-piece from Brooklyn, NYC, who are nevertheless ending their tour in Boston! The Beantown massive are obviously quite welcoming, and an unexpected - we're in Boston, after all - moshpit develops as they break into their breakneck, breathless strumalong US alt-guitar rock. Kind of like a Sebadoh on speed in this "live" environment, Da Surf are beautiful, briny, shimmery and shiny, with their occasionally lovelorn paeans portrayed with just the right level of understatement. The set is jolly fine, though, and prompts me to not only make sure I take EdV's word more often (he recommended them), but also to buy their new CD afterward from vocalist Matt Caws.
Everyone I'd spoken to regarding our upsetting Pills/ Banjo Spiders clash, had said to go with the Pills for full-on "live" fun and frolics. Expectations were high, despite a pre-gig chat with Pills vocalist David Thompson, during which he totally fails to remember being introduced to us during our last visit, earlier this year! No matter, The Pills hit the stage just after midnight, and the stage stays well and truly hit! They literally burst into life with a riot of fun, colour, and gloriously happy pop tunes. The Pills are a ridiculously happy melting-pot of styles; power-pop, skinny-tie New Wave-isms, fast and frantic pseudo punk rock, even a little ska and bluebeat to colour the palette. Imagine a happy Elvis Costello pogo-ing with "Flippin' Out" era Gigolo Aunts, with The Knack and Madness in close attendance, all played at breakneck 78 rpm speed. Fast, frantic, frenetic, fun!
Early ones "Devils Song" and "Pop Goes Mandy" are excellent, and set the tone for an uplifting set which I jerkily dance to, stage right, despite my cold and fatigue. The newer, unfamiliar numbers are nevertheless fine and memorable, as the 3-pronged visual attack of Dave Thompson, big presence Corin Ashley and Clyde O'Scope (!) throw shapes with gay abandon. The set is rushed through breathlessly, and the only mystery is why the Nada Surf massive didn't stick around for this superb set.
We stick around afterwards for an entertaining conversation with Corin, who welcomes me as, "the dancing man!" If only I'd been 100% fit, he'd have seen some dancing then! I'm however more intrigued about his forthcoming "Shepherd's Pie evening" with EdV! We eventually leave and flag a taxi down, just after Steve Hurley had managed to do the same! Back to our digs, then a final day shopping before a flight through the night Sunday back to Blighty. For this trip the rock, well, rocked, and The Pills provided the perfect sendoff!
TTs really is the hangout for this trip - that's 3 shows out of 9 in the 5 days here! Unfortunately this time we have to pay to get in as our friend Kevin isn't manning the door, and EdV's not managed to get us on the guest-list via his DMod (tonight's gig sponsor) connections! No matter, we hit TTs early to ensure we get in on this expected-to-be-busy night, and catch US Crush at 9 with the few other early birds. They're a punk band from Orange County, CA, with a couple of decent songs ("Loser" - no, not the Beck number - standing out) and some Offspring-style rabble-rousing. Not too bad really, though.
The Details, on at 10, are a different kettle of fish. Featuring Brett Rosenberg, who we met a couple of days ago and who appears to be a real local guitar-for-hire, ex-Shods vocalist Dave Aaronoff, and Deb Klein of Hi-Fi Records (remember the Jed Parish in-store show? Yeah, there), they play an updated doowop style with some well-constructed songs which recall Posies side-project Chariot in their occasional Tex-Mex style. Groovy and catchy, but overall not my cup of soda-jerk and shake really, although it was good to talk to Brett and Deb again!
By this time it's heaving, and we're joined by James Horrigan and his girlfriend Sarah from North Carolina, who appears to be a female version of James - and I though they'd broken the mould after they made him! Also, John Dragonetti and Blake Hazard show up - not so surprised to see us this time - and Steve Hurley hits TTs, admitting he was "flabbergasted" when his sister, whom we'd seen earlier this week, mentioned we were in town.
"Down the front" appears to be a very crowded place for Nada Surf, a name I'm obviously alone in tonight's audience in being unfamiliar with. Da Surf are an underground 3-piece from Brooklyn, NYC, who are nevertheless ending their tour in Boston! The Beantown massive are obviously quite welcoming, and an unexpected - we're in Boston, after all - moshpit develops as they break into their breakneck, breathless strumalong US alt-guitar rock. Kind of like a Sebadoh on speed in this "live" environment, Da Surf are beautiful, briny, shimmery and shiny, with their occasionally lovelorn paeans portrayed with just the right level of understatement. The set is jolly fine, though, and prompts me to not only make sure I take EdV's word more often (he recommended them), but also to buy their new CD afterward from vocalist Matt Caws.
Everyone I'd spoken to regarding our upsetting Pills/ Banjo Spiders clash, had said to go with the Pills for full-on "live" fun and frolics. Expectations were high, despite a pre-gig chat with Pills vocalist David Thompson, during which he totally fails to remember being introduced to us during our last visit, earlier this year! No matter, The Pills hit the stage just after midnight, and the stage stays well and truly hit! They literally burst into life with a riot of fun, colour, and gloriously happy pop tunes. The Pills are a ridiculously happy melting-pot of styles; power-pop, skinny-tie New Wave-isms, fast and frantic pseudo punk rock, even a little ska and bluebeat to colour the palette. Imagine a happy Elvis Costello pogo-ing with "Flippin' Out" era Gigolo Aunts, with The Knack and Madness in close attendance, all played at breakneck 78 rpm speed. Fast, frantic, frenetic, fun!
Early ones "Devils Song" and "Pop Goes Mandy" are excellent, and set the tone for an uplifting set which I jerkily dance to, stage right, despite my cold and fatigue. The newer, unfamiliar numbers are nevertheless fine and memorable, as the 3-pronged visual attack of Dave Thompson, big presence Corin Ashley and Clyde O'Scope (!) throw shapes with gay abandon. The set is rushed through breathlessly, and the only mystery is why the Nada Surf massive didn't stick around for this superb set.
We stick around afterwards for an entertaining conversation with Corin, who welcomes me as, "the dancing man!" If only I'd been 100% fit, he'd have seen some dancing then! I'm however more intrigued about his forthcoming "Shepherd's Pie evening" with EdV! We eventually leave and flag a taxi down, just after Steve Hurley had managed to do the same! Back to our digs, then a final day shopping before a flight through the night Sunday back to Blighty. For this trip the rock, well, rocked, and The Pills provided the perfect sendoff!
470 TEENAGE FANCLUB, Suckle, Bristol University Anson Rooms, Wednesday 7 November 2000
Amazingly, I'd not seen Teenage Fanclub for 7 years, and only a total of twice before tonight, a surprise given they're one of my most obvious musical reference points (let's face it, all an NME "On" piece on a new band has to do to get me scuttling off to the record shops is to write, "sounds like Teenage Fanclub"). So, slightly humbly, I got Rachel and Peej and trundled down a sodden M4 for this one. Got there in time for support Suckle, and wished we hadn't bothered. A veritable troupe of 6th formers greeted us onstage, and proceeded to play dreary and tuneless tripe, which resembled medieval folk songs. Sorry to state the obvious, but Suckle sucked!
Listened to most of their set from the safety of the lobby, chatting to old Bristol gig buddy Tim Lezard. But we decamped to the front, stage right, for the entrance of the Fannies at 9.15. They sauntered casually onstage and kicked off a set of their trademark chunky feelgood melodies, 60's influenced guitar dynamics and West coast lush harmonies. The only real problem I had, as the set washed over me like Californian surf and coated me with honey, was my relative unfamiliarity with the older album material. I can't blame Teenage Fanclub for playing what the hell they wanted to play; they're a cult band who are playing exactly the same venues as 7 years previously (probably to exactly the same people!) and aren't going to get any bigger, or smaller, popularity wise, in a hurry. I just wished they'd played some better-known stuff, that's all.
That said, I thoroughly enjoyed their set; quite apart from the lush, relaxing music, their charm shone through as they slipped up on more than a couple of song introductions. And the chiming chords of "Ain't That Enough" and blissed out harmonies of "Mellow Doubt" stood out.
The encores, however, were utterly superb! The raucous "Radio" kicked off a moshpit, and absorbing first single "Everything Flows" followed seamlessly. The real delight, however, was "Sparky's Dream", as captivating "live" as on record. So, great to see them after so long, but next time I might do some listening homework before catching them again!
Listened to most of their set from the safety of the lobby, chatting to old Bristol gig buddy Tim Lezard. But we decamped to the front, stage right, for the entrance of the Fannies at 9.15. They sauntered casually onstage and kicked off a set of their trademark chunky feelgood melodies, 60's influenced guitar dynamics and West coast lush harmonies. The only real problem I had, as the set washed over me like Californian surf and coated me with honey, was my relative unfamiliarity with the older album material. I can't blame Teenage Fanclub for playing what the hell they wanted to play; they're a cult band who are playing exactly the same venues as 7 years previously (probably to exactly the same people!) and aren't going to get any bigger, or smaller, popularity wise, in a hurry. I just wished they'd played some better-known stuff, that's all.
That said, I thoroughly enjoyed their set; quite apart from the lush, relaxing music, their charm shone through as they slipped up on more than a couple of song introductions. And the chiming chords of "Ain't That Enough" and blissed out harmonies of "Mellow Doubt" stood out.
The encores, however, were utterly superb! The raucous "Radio" kicked off a moshpit, and absorbing first single "Everything Flows" followed seamlessly. The real delight, however, was "Sparky's Dream", as captivating "live" as on record. So, great to see them after so long, but next time I might do some listening homework before catching them again!
471 SEAFOOD, Mote, Fiver, Oxford Point, Saturday 18 November 2000
I'd already got tix for the forthcoming Seafood London show when this one was announced. But what the hey; we'd travelled 3,500 miles to see this lot, so we can manage a trundle up the road to Oxford! So a happy carload, including new gig buddies Thom and Aaron, hit Oxford at 8, bumping into Kevin Seafood, somewhat inevitably, on the stairs leading up to the venue! Got the drinks in just before Fiver came on at 8.30. A Modesto, CA. outfit, they'd been, also somewhat inevitably, compared in the press to Grandaddy, which intrigued me. A couple of numbers in, I was prepared to dismiss them as interesting, albeit disjointed and half-formed, but third number in, "Builder", really changed my mind. This one sucked me in with the absorbing tension of a Wheat number, no less, and the set thereafter was similarly layered, atmospheric and absorbing, if more upbeat than the Wheat-sters. A fine set from an intriguing new act with some potential. Chatted briefly to vocalist David afterwards, who took the Wheat comparison as a compliment!
The place filled up for local main support act Mote. Formerly spunky Ash soundalikes Dustball, they had unfortunately degenerated into the RadioMusePlay72 moody slow verse/ shouty chorus trap. Not a shred of originality at all in this set, so I headed for the bar.
Had a quick chat with David Seafood, bumping into him in the loos (!) before taking a stage right spot for da 'Food, just after 10. They hit the stage with a new number, "Wasters", which indicates their next CD will be no great departure - good thing too! "Guntrip" and "Porchlight" really ignited the crowd into a frenzied squash, and this old boy joined in the frantic moshing to some seriously searing guitar rock. Once again, Seafood cemented their reputation as the UK's most exciting, incendiary and downright best live act, delivering another hot set smeared with their trademarks of controlled aggression, noise, light and colour. Thankfully "Toggle" and "Dear Leap The Ride" provided moments of calm amongst the glorious cacophony, enabling me to get a breather in this incredibly hot atmosphere. Following the headlong hurtle through the white noise and destruction of "Folk Song Crisis", I emerged shirtless and soaked (and wishing I'd worn shorts!), yet exhilarated once again.
A few quixck words with Kevin before we hit the road. Another blistering Seafood gig, and we're back for more on Tuesday!
The place filled up for local main support act Mote. Formerly spunky Ash soundalikes Dustball, they had unfortunately degenerated into the RadioMusePlay72 moody slow verse/ shouty chorus trap. Not a shred of originality at all in this set, so I headed for the bar.
Had a quick chat with David Seafood, bumping into him in the loos (!) before taking a stage right spot for da 'Food, just after 10. They hit the stage with a new number, "Wasters", which indicates their next CD will be no great departure - good thing too! "Guntrip" and "Porchlight" really ignited the crowd into a frenzied squash, and this old boy joined in the frantic moshing to some seriously searing guitar rock. Once again, Seafood cemented their reputation as the UK's most exciting, incendiary and downright best live act, delivering another hot set smeared with their trademarks of controlled aggression, noise, light and colour. Thankfully "Toggle" and "Dear Leap The Ride" provided moments of calm amongst the glorious cacophony, enabling me to get a breather in this incredibly hot atmosphere. Following the headlong hurtle through the white noise and destruction of "Folk Song Crisis", I emerged shirtless and soaked (and wishing I'd worn shorts!), yet exhilarated once again.
A few quixck words with Kevin before we hit the road. Another blistering Seafood gig, and we're back for more on Tuesday!
472 SEAFOOD, Fiver, Kaito, London Highbury Garage, Tuesday 21 November 2000
...aaand; we're back. After a lengthier than usual journey, thanks to the current road traffic problems (thanks in part to the rail problems, thanks to the floods!) we nevertheless made it back once again, for Seafood number 10! Hit the Garage at 8.15 after a 3 hour journey, and walked into some seriously cacophonous yet clumsy and half-formed noise. This, gentle listener, is Kaito, "good mates" of Seafood, yet a 2-girl, 2-boy young, enthusiastic but unpractised collective, redeemed for me only by an excellently energetic guitarist who looked a little like El Nino's Glenn Hicks, and playing guitar like a chainsaw.
Bumped, inevitably, into Seafood's Kevin and also Fiver's vocalist David in the surprisingly large crowd before Fiver's set. This time they were "on it" from the start, playing the same set as in Oxford last Saturday yet hitting the "commitment" button full-on straight away. Their Grandaddy-meets-Wheat sound of dusty and quirky pseudo psychedelic country, and evocative and sweeping Americana, was mighty fine, pardner! Again, third number "Builder" really got the set going, with its sweeps and swoops and tempo changes really holding the interest. As did vocalist David, who threw jagged shapes and sawed on his guitar like an outback woodsman. A fine young band with a great deal of potential!
By now the place was starting to get uncomfortably full, rendering a trip from our front-stage-right slot to the merch stand by the bar, to snatch some Fiver badges, remarkably slow. Managed another chat with David Fiver on the way back, this time about New York's CMJ Festival, which David informed me Fiver had played on the first night of the "Subway" World Series between the New York Yankees and New York Mets. From their rooftop vantage point following the Yankees win, they watched the whole of the New York Greater Metropolitan area go mental; fireworks, lights, the lot. Crazy town!
And so to Seafood. Tenth time overall, seventh time this year. but surprisingly the first time in London, apart from the bookshop! And, kids, the London crowd goes wild for da 'Food. Entering at 10 through a wall of dry ice, they kicked into allegedly un-named new number "Wasters", and immediately a surprisingly large moshpit encompassed our position. "Guntrip" and "Porchlight" followed, angry, petulant bursts of amphetamine-fast jagged rock both, and the reaction level rises from enthusiastic to frenzied! A couple of slow numbers bring light and shade, David advising us that, ""Kerrang!" are here tonight, so we're going to get heavier soon!" And they do, with a haphazard but ace "Psychic Rainy Nights", and finally, as a closer to their "live" activity for a "brilliant year," according to David, they cut loose with "Folk Song Crisis", their impressively haired guitar tech joining them in the yawing maelstrom that is this song. The hookline, "I hope the wretched town will fall" never sounded so venomous or vitriolic, and the mid-song white noise-fest, accompanied by migraine-inducing strobes and flashing light, complimented it visually to stunning effect. No band currently operating channels such fire and fury to such devastatingly effective greatness. Another great Seafood show but hey, you know that by now, right?
Quick chats afterwards with a euphoric Kev and calmer David, before we hit the road for a quicker journey home, David's final words remaining with me; "we tried to play it like a normal band tonight, but we're not..." I dunno about that David, "live;, you're about the best the UK has to offer right now!
Bumped, inevitably, into Seafood's Kevin and also Fiver's vocalist David in the surprisingly large crowd before Fiver's set. This time they were "on it" from the start, playing the same set as in Oxford last Saturday yet hitting the "commitment" button full-on straight away. Their Grandaddy-meets-Wheat sound of dusty and quirky pseudo psychedelic country, and evocative and sweeping Americana, was mighty fine, pardner! Again, third number "Builder" really got the set going, with its sweeps and swoops and tempo changes really holding the interest. As did vocalist David, who threw jagged shapes and sawed on his guitar like an outback woodsman. A fine young band with a great deal of potential!
By now the place was starting to get uncomfortably full, rendering a trip from our front-stage-right slot to the merch stand by the bar, to snatch some Fiver badges, remarkably slow. Managed another chat with David Fiver on the way back, this time about New York's CMJ Festival, which David informed me Fiver had played on the first night of the "Subway" World Series between the New York Yankees and New York Mets. From their rooftop vantage point following the Yankees win, they watched the whole of the New York Greater Metropolitan area go mental; fireworks, lights, the lot. Crazy town!
And so to Seafood. Tenth time overall, seventh time this year. but surprisingly the first time in London, apart from the bookshop! And, kids, the London crowd goes wild for da 'Food. Entering at 10 through a wall of dry ice, they kicked into allegedly un-named new number "Wasters", and immediately a surprisingly large moshpit encompassed our position. "Guntrip" and "Porchlight" followed, angry, petulant bursts of amphetamine-fast jagged rock both, and the reaction level rises from enthusiastic to frenzied! A couple of slow numbers bring light and shade, David advising us that, ""Kerrang!" are here tonight, so we're going to get heavier soon!" And they do, with a haphazard but ace "Psychic Rainy Nights", and finally, as a closer to their "live" activity for a "brilliant year," according to David, they cut loose with "Folk Song Crisis", their impressively haired guitar tech joining them in the yawing maelstrom that is this song. The hookline, "I hope the wretched town will fall" never sounded so venomous or vitriolic, and the mid-song white noise-fest, accompanied by migraine-inducing strobes and flashing light, complimented it visually to stunning effect. No band currently operating channels such fire and fury to such devastatingly effective greatness. Another great Seafood show but hey, you know that by now, right?
Quick chats afterwards with a euphoric Kev and calmer David, before we hit the road for a quicker journey home, David's final words remaining with me; "we tried to play it like a normal band tonight, but we're not..." I dunno about that David, "live;, you're about the best the UK has to offer right now!
473 THE POSIES, Russian Caravan, London Highbury Garage, Wednesday 29 November 2000
With the Grandaddy show tomorrow, I'd hummed and haahed about this one; 2 nights in London in a row is tough these days! But when Tim offered to treat Rachel and myself to tix as a thank you for handing out his You Are Here tapes to our US friends, we just said, "hmmm, OK thanks, we do!" So Tim and I left at 5, joining the increasing traffic on the M4, getting over to the Garage at 8 and meeting Rachel in the Old Cock Tavern!
Decamped to a surprisingly quiet Garage well in time for support Russian Caravan. A couple of acoustic guitar-wielding blonde cowgirls with hairstyles like the Boothill Foot-Tappers, and vertical fringes like Cameron Diaz from "There's Something About Mary" (I hope they don't use the same hair product), they were god-awful. Sporting a gift for grating-ness that would have put the similarly awful Hangovers to shame, they totally murdered their dourly dark songs. Bringing Ken Stringfellow on at the end of their set must've been as embarrassing for him as it was for us.
Anyway, Ken was here to earn his money with "The Posies", basically just Ken and Jon Auer tonight, the 2 musical and creative brains of the band, on an acoustic show to celebrate the canon of work of this apparently now-defunct band, and have some tequila and a laugh in the process. As usual with these kinds of tours, the material reacted differently to this treatment; slower, heartfelt and melancholy numbers, such as the touching "You're The Beautiful One", or their stark and stunning encore rendition of Big Star's "Thirteen", gained depth and emotional honesty, whereas the big rockers, such as my favourites "Solar Sister" and "Fall Apart With Me" were groovy and melodic but a little shallow sounding. Either way, however, the boys were enjoying themselves; calling for tequila shots to accompany any requests, and receiving at least 7 by my count, all of which were downed in one, with the plastic glasses being tossed contemptuously away. And the set was, like Dando's in Boston recently, a complete encapsulation of the work of this most melodic of bands, whom nevertheless I never really held dear until their last 2 albums, when they added passion and vitriol to the pure melodies.
The encores were particularly fun; the aforementioned "Thirteen" was accompanied by 2 other Big Star-related numbers, namely "September Gurls" and "I Am The Cosmos", and, amazingly, The Psychedelic Furs' "Love My Way" and REM's "Man On The Moon" followed as the guys got drunker and drunker, before trashing their strings and doing a capella versions of "The Star Spangled Banner" and Sinatra's "New York, New York" with the chorus altered to "London UK", before they finally staggered off, 2 hours after kicking off, presumably to collapse in a crumpled inebriated heap backstage.
Fun, though! And thankfully the drive home took half the time of the drive up. Thanks for this one Tim!
Decamped to a surprisingly quiet Garage well in time for support Russian Caravan. A couple of acoustic guitar-wielding blonde cowgirls with hairstyles like the Boothill Foot-Tappers, and vertical fringes like Cameron Diaz from "There's Something About Mary" (I hope they don't use the same hair product), they were god-awful. Sporting a gift for grating-ness that would have put the similarly awful Hangovers to shame, they totally murdered their dourly dark songs. Bringing Ken Stringfellow on at the end of their set must've been as embarrassing for him as it was for us.
Anyway, Ken was here to earn his money with "The Posies", basically just Ken and Jon Auer tonight, the 2 musical and creative brains of the band, on an acoustic show to celebrate the canon of work of this apparently now-defunct band, and have some tequila and a laugh in the process. As usual with these kinds of tours, the material reacted differently to this treatment; slower, heartfelt and melancholy numbers, such as the touching "You're The Beautiful One", or their stark and stunning encore rendition of Big Star's "Thirteen", gained depth and emotional honesty, whereas the big rockers, such as my favourites "Solar Sister" and "Fall Apart With Me" were groovy and melodic but a little shallow sounding. Either way, however, the boys were enjoying themselves; calling for tequila shots to accompany any requests, and receiving at least 7 by my count, all of which were downed in one, with the plastic glasses being tossed contemptuously away. And the set was, like Dando's in Boston recently, a complete encapsulation of the work of this most melodic of bands, whom nevertheless I never really held dear until their last 2 albums, when they added passion and vitriol to the pure melodies.
The encores were particularly fun; the aforementioned "Thirteen" was accompanied by 2 other Big Star-related numbers, namely "September Gurls" and "I Am The Cosmos", and, amazingly, The Psychedelic Furs' "Love My Way" and REM's "Man On The Moon" followed as the guys got drunker and drunker, before trashing their strings and doing a capella versions of "The Star Spangled Banner" and Sinatra's "New York, New York" with the chorus altered to "London UK", before they finally staggered off, 2 hours after kicking off, presumably to collapse in a crumpled inebriated heap backstage.
Fun, though! And thankfully the drive home took half the time of the drive up. Thanks for this one Tim!
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
474 GRANDADDY, Lowgold, Elbow, London Shepherd's Bush Empire, Thursday 30 November 2000
Took the coach up for this one! Given recent road experiences I was concerned that waiting for a lift from Ady might mean missing support Lowgold, so Rachel and I took an early afternoon coach up the Smoke, leaving time for shopping in Camden and food before hitting the venue at 7.30. Elbow were playing some plodding miserablist nonsense early doors; look guys, it's been done before by RadioMuseTravisPlay72 and it's not haunting, ethereal or anything like that, it's just dull. And as for the vocalist; well, if you're a 6 foot 3, 18 stone Manc, why on earth are you trying to sing like Aled Jones? One Thom Yorke and his miserable current work is enough, f'rchrissakes - sing with your own voice!
Luckily we had Lowgold next up to show Elbow how to be new and original, and still moody. Influences less obvious here - the wide open lazy melody of Teenage Fanclub, Kent's haunting wistfulness, even some Buffalo Tom edginess, but toned down to an undercurrent - but overall, Lowgold were, well, Lowgold. Finally, another young British band with good tunes, heart, vision and potential. Seafood were beginning to get lonely! Suffice to say, I liked this lot a great deal, getting a set-list and thumbs-up from the bassist in the process. Worth the coach trip - which proved unnecessary, as Ady showed up before their set started anyway!
Well, onto Grandaddy. We had a good, stage right, view throughout, as the lights dimmed at 9.15, the appointed hour, the sold out crowd cheered, the intro music started... and on strode 5 guys dressed in animal suits! A chimp, a bear, a lion, a tiger, and some sort of wolf thingy, who took up instruments... then promptly took them off as the band themselves came onstage! Bizarre start! Grandaddy then eased themselves into their set with "Levitz" before "Chartsengrafs", a chunky chuntering slice of feelgood noise, kicked things into gear. "This is the biggest place we've ever played in!" stammered a slightly incredulous vocalist Jason Lytle, and you got the impression somewhere smaller might've honestly been more comfortable for him. That said, the 'Dad didn't let the occasion - or the presence of one or more of the "animals" strolling nonchalantly and intermittently across the stage - overwhelm them, and they played a fine set of their slightly frazzled, bouncy yet countrified, exciting yet slow-burning and ethereal, US pop. The drawn-out anguish of "He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot" contrasted with the jumpy melody of "AM 180", the plangent magnificence of "The Crystal Lake" and the almost punky rush through "Summer Here Kids". Yet all 4 corners of Grandaddy made a goofy kind of sense, and contributed to a bubbling and splendid whole.
Off on the hour, then they returned for 2 songs, neither of which was new CD highlight "Broken Household Appliance National Forest", which disappointed somewhat. Nevertheless, I grabbed a set-list very easily, after a fine show from a band finally receiving some deserved plaudits and success. Long may they shamble! And well done to Ady as well, as his pedal-to-the-metal drive home got us back to Swindon at a shade past midnight!
Luckily we had Lowgold next up to show Elbow how to be new and original, and still moody. Influences less obvious here - the wide open lazy melody of Teenage Fanclub, Kent's haunting wistfulness, even some Buffalo Tom edginess, but toned down to an undercurrent - but overall, Lowgold were, well, Lowgold. Finally, another young British band with good tunes, heart, vision and potential. Seafood were beginning to get lonely! Suffice to say, I liked this lot a great deal, getting a set-list and thumbs-up from the bassist in the process. Worth the coach trip - which proved unnecessary, as Ady showed up before their set started anyway!
Well, onto Grandaddy. We had a good, stage right, view throughout, as the lights dimmed at 9.15, the appointed hour, the sold out crowd cheered, the intro music started... and on strode 5 guys dressed in animal suits! A chimp, a bear, a lion, a tiger, and some sort of wolf thingy, who took up instruments... then promptly took them off as the band themselves came onstage! Bizarre start! Grandaddy then eased themselves into their set with "Levitz" before "Chartsengrafs", a chunky chuntering slice of feelgood noise, kicked things into gear. "This is the biggest place we've ever played in!" stammered a slightly incredulous vocalist Jason Lytle, and you got the impression somewhere smaller might've honestly been more comfortable for him. That said, the 'Dad didn't let the occasion - or the presence of one or more of the "animals" strolling nonchalantly and intermittently across the stage - overwhelm them, and they played a fine set of their slightly frazzled, bouncy yet countrified, exciting yet slow-burning and ethereal, US pop. The drawn-out anguish of "He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot" contrasted with the jumpy melody of "AM 180", the plangent magnificence of "The Crystal Lake" and the almost punky rush through "Summer Here Kids". Yet all 4 corners of Grandaddy made a goofy kind of sense, and contributed to a bubbling and splendid whole.
Off on the hour, then they returned for 2 songs, neither of which was new CD highlight "Broken Household Appliance National Forest", which disappointed somewhat. Nevertheless, I grabbed a set-list very easily, after a fine show from a band finally receiving some deserved plaudits and success. Long may they shamble! And well done to Ady as well, as his pedal-to-the-metal drive home got us back to Swindon at a shade past midnight!
475 ...AND YOU WILL KNOW US BY THE TRAIL OF DEAD, Of Arrowe Hill, Bristol Fleece, Monday 4 December 2000
We finally got along to this show! This one was postponed due to a riot at a TOD gig in the States which trashed most of TOD's gear, so we were well up for the rearranged date. So, all togged in black (Rachel even dyed her hair black, although not entirely just for this gig) off we did trot, getting into the already busy venue early doors. Of Arrowe Hill, a motley looking bunch with a vocalist wearing a trilby hat and a Crass t-shirt (!) were first up, and weren't too good at all. For starters, they need a serious amount of practice, but even so were plodding along in the miserablist footprints of the likes of Radiohead. Not one to watch really, so I didn't! Ran into TOD's Neil Busch, whom I'd also met at Reading Festival, by the backstage area, which was cool.
By the time TOD took the stage, the place was heaving and the men in black (except white-shirted Neil) arrived onstage with a health warning; "things are gonna get pretty loud!". This proved to be the case, as opener "Totally Natural" hit with the force of a tsunami; confrontational and intense, and setting the tone for the entire performance. Musically, TOD are Seafood in extremis; loud, fast, spiky, harsh and acerbic, taking their own musical cues from the likes of The Pixies and Sonic Youth. Their performance, however, is pretty incredible, with harsh passion and intensity the bywords. Neil dipped, ducked and dived like The Gravel Pit's Ed Valauskas, doing the Chuck Berry walk, and Conrad and Jason alternated between vocals and drums, belting out the anger and vitriol with a vengeance. "Blight Takes All" was superb, and the climactic "A Perfect Teenhood" was as crazed and chaotic as at Reading, the semi-cathartic instrument trashing a perfect and totally fitting climax.
I managed to get onstage and procure a set-list from all the wreckage, which was small beer compared to some punters going for pedals and cymbals etc... A guy next to me grabbed a cymbal, and was immediately grabbed by Jason and Neil from the band! I then took a breather, bumping into a guy from Boston who noted my "Planet Records" t-shirt and waxed nostalgic about TT's and the Big Dipper, and I then got my set-list signed, in the process getting mistaken myself for a member of the band by a fellow punter. Must be the black hair and gear...then we hit the road after a very intense evening. Incredible stuff from the new men in black!
By the time TOD took the stage, the place was heaving and the men in black (except white-shirted Neil) arrived onstage with a health warning; "things are gonna get pretty loud!". This proved to be the case, as opener "Totally Natural" hit with the force of a tsunami; confrontational and intense, and setting the tone for the entire performance. Musically, TOD are Seafood in extremis; loud, fast, spiky, harsh and acerbic, taking their own musical cues from the likes of The Pixies and Sonic Youth. Their performance, however, is pretty incredible, with harsh passion and intensity the bywords. Neil dipped, ducked and dived like The Gravel Pit's Ed Valauskas, doing the Chuck Berry walk, and Conrad and Jason alternated between vocals and drums, belting out the anger and vitriol with a vengeance. "Blight Takes All" was superb, and the climactic "A Perfect Teenhood" was as crazed and chaotic as at Reading, the semi-cathartic instrument trashing a perfect and totally fitting climax.
I managed to get onstage and procure a set-list from all the wreckage, which was small beer compared to some punters going for pedals and cymbals etc... A guy next to me grabbed a cymbal, and was immediately grabbed by Jason and Neil from the band! I then took a breather, bumping into a guy from Boston who noted my "Planet Records" t-shirt and waxed nostalgic about TT's and the Big Dipper, and I then got my set-list signed, in the process getting mistaken myself for a member of the band by a fellow punter. Must be the black hair and gear...then we hit the road after a very intense evening. Incredible stuff from the new men in black!
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