And
now, back to our usual scheduled programme…!
Following last weekend’s Taylor
Swift pop extravaganza at Wembley with Kasey, today’s mid-point of 5 weekend
gigs on the bounce (and 2nd of 3 in a row “oop the Smoke”) saw a
semblance of normality restored, with a punk rock boys night out! Said night
out being hosted once again by The Skids, continuing their recent reunion
renaissance with a first London gig since the release of their first album in
37 years, the fire-breathing, anger-fuelled and reactionary “Burning Cities”,
and the boys in question being myself and Logan! Having loved the full-on Skids
“meet and greet” experience in Oxford last June (gig 1,040), Logan was up for
seeing these vintage anthemic punks (and his dad’s real first musical loves)
again, so a Saturday gig at the favourable Empire (the right side of London for
us!) afforded us the chance for Logan’s first London gig, the first of many no
doubt…!
The
girls were in Bristol seeing “Flashdance”, so Logan and I set off at 4,
listening to Argentina’s extraordinary World Cup exit on the journey. We parked
in The Bush at 6.15, waiting by the car for 15 minutes until we were legal (!
Again…) before heading around the corner; doors were at 7, so we were one of
the first in, securing a barrier spot, house right. The place filled up early
doors, a number of early punters seeming to primarily be here for the support! Old
stagers Theatre Of Hate (for t’was they), joined us at 7.45, the pairing of
Kirk Brandon and faithful wingman, bassist Stan Stammers, leading the charge
into “Original Sin”, Brandon’s familiar and unique operatic tones and the
saxophone blare competing for attention throughout. “We’re your fun-loving
Theatre Of Hate!” quipped the vulgar-shirted Brandon, in relaxed and effusive
mood tonight, making light of playing the wrong song early doors with, “OK, you
sometimes get things fucking wrong!” This was a solid set of their dark,
dramatic and occasionally politically-tinged dense post-punk rock, with
occasional swipes at Trump (“that guy with the small hands”) and, in the
still-strident “Propaganda”, tonight’s first full-on mosh-fest. At a full hour,
their set wore on me a little, but as ever, the pointed and still-relevant
cowboy gallop of “Do You Believe In The Westworld?” was splendid and ended the
set well, at which point Stammers handed Logan a pick. Nice!
A chat with a fellow punter, a veteran fan who’d seen The Skids a bunch of times first time round, passed the time until The Skids took the stage at an early 9.10 to the chiming intro of “This Is Our World”, delivering a pulsating rendition of the new album’s opening track. The metallic staccato riff opening to “Charade” followed, Jobson’s voice a little down in the mix and sounding (if I’m being harsh) slightly ragged, maybe bearing the weight of their current hectic touring schedule somewhat, but the frontman was as usual nothing less than mesmeric, whirling away in his trademarked dervish dance and with a constantly beaming grin on his face the width of the Forth Bridge. In good fooling too; “being in our band is “Spinal Tap” every day – so fucking funny! [Backstage, it’s all] cups of tea and Kit-Kats, apart from Bill – he’s on the Tunnocks Teacakes!” was an early comment, then, after a fist-pumping “Melancholy Soldiers” he admitted, “you start full of euphoria and effusiveness and just go for it – then you look at the set-list and think, shit, there’s 42 numbers to go!”
“Working
For The Yankee Dollar” was an early set highlight, and the dramatic slashing
riffery of “The Saints Are Coming” saw an early mosh develop, as I formed a
human shield around my little man. The new numbers stacked up well once more, “Desert
Dust” again heart-rending and bleak, and “Into The Void” (reflecting “the
fragile scary world of today”) galloping and ominous. After a reverentially
received shout out for Stuart Adamson, “Hurry On Boys” was again an epic,
stately singalong (this one never ceases to amaze me “live”, always a step up
from the recorded version), then a singalong “Circus Games”, which got my
little man really animated, immediately segued into an unannounced “Albert
Tatlock”, which oddly ended with some Devo “Satisfaction” drumbeats from Mike
Baillie. As ever, “Into The Valley” was a raucous, anthemic and brilliant punctuation
on another superb Skids set – as I mentioned, slightly road worn but never less
than enthusiastic.
A
galloping “Olympian” (featuring some frantic fretwork from the splendid Bruce
Watson) rounded off the encores, at which point Bill (onstage in front of us)
handed Logan his list, this being followed by one of Jamie’s picks as the
guitarist crossed the stage in front of us. Nice! A brief chat and signature from
Mike Baillie afterwards was the icing on the cake for my “wee man”, who
excitedly burbled all the way home for a 12.30 arrival. Another successful
London gig with one of my offspring then – this one much more to my tastes!
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