1,129 KRISTIN HERSH, Fred Abong, Bristol Fleece, Thursday 28 March 2019

Now here's a real name from the past... I'd jump all over a Throwing Muses gig in a heartbeat (indeed, I did at my last opportunity, that Trinity gig 926 in September 2014 – nearly 5 years ago now!), but a Kristin Hersh solo gig was always something to approach with a bit more circumspection. Don't get me wrong, big fan of the crazy ol' gal, it's just that I've found her solo output considerably less to my tastes than the wonderful Muses, finding it folkier, mellower, more introspective, and generally lacking the thrillingly ragged and jagged off-kilter punch that her band provides. Hence la Hersh's solo absence from my Dance Card for nearly 18 (!) years (since gig 501, the Empire in April 2001, in fact), until... it wasn't so much the fact that Kristin announced a gig at The Fleece that inticed me into booking tix for this one, more so the tagline... "Kristin Hersh, Live And Loud"... Loud? Hmmm, alright then, I’ll try some of that...

Fellow old school Muses fans Ady and Beef were up for it, and Stuart had a free evening so gave this a late call to join us, so it was vitrually the same line-up as last Thursday rocking down the M4 to Brizzle, this time in the Beef Buggy! Hit the venue at 7.30 doors - virtually the first in! - and chatted while the place filled up. Eventually the late-running support kicked off at 8.30, turning out to be Kristin's bassist Fred Abong doing a solo set. This meant a clutch of effects-dominated dour and dark little solo guitar ditties, followed by a swap to a fat acoustic and some more stripped-back, morose folky numbers. Short and snappy, and often finishing abruptly, the material was okayish, if somewhat samey, delivered at a swift pace by the throaty-vocalled and taciturn Fred. However, I wished that Laura Kidd's bid to get her band She Makes War on as tonight's support (which she mentioned to me last week at the Desperate Journalist gig) had been successful...

We kept our spots at the front as the diminutive Kristin, bedecked in floral dress and beetle-crusher boots, led her trio onstage at 9.30. I'd picked up Kristin's 2018 album "Possible Dust Clouds" for pre-gig research, and after a couple of goes through, I definitely wasn't going to file it under "Easy Listening"... harking back to that posr-Tanya Muses era, it's a collection of degenerate misfits of songs, overlaid with swathes of guitar reverb, delivered in a brutal, uncompromising hard rasp of a voice. Such was the case tonight, with opener "Lax" a bleak and bitter march, a more dour (dourer?) version of the Muses' "Counting Backwards", and an early double of the galloping and groovy "Mississippi Kite" and an excellent "Sunray Venus" from that last, sprawling Muses album, both delivered with venomous snarling vocals by Kristin, were highlights. Some nice early banter as well, as Kristin messed up the running order, blaming her set-list as it was written on a paper plate, then quipping, "we'd like to kill one goddamn tree [for some paper] before this tour is over!"

Unfortunately, "Your Ghost" was heavy-handed and jarring, lacking th bleak and haunting feel of the CD verion, and thereafter it all started to go a bit South for me, many of the numbers bleeding into one, and their interpretations doing them no favours tonight, many being heavily drum-dominated... Someone really needed to tell drummer Rob Ahlers that his kit was there to be played, not battered into noisy submission! It also didn't help that th stage remained very dimly lit throughout, a couple of blue scatter-lights offering scant visibility, so Kristin's usual head-bobbing intensity was lost in the crepuscular murk.

"Limbo" finally started to turn things around, set closer "Cuckoo" was a spooky backwoods Appalachian folk number recalling Cordelia's Dad (!), and the crunchy, wah-wah feedback drenched encore "Broke" (a 50 Foot Wave number, apparently, but one I have to confess I was unfamiliar with) ended a variable performance on a relative high. Various opinions on the gig in the car afterwards during an unimpeded drive home, not all of them in concert with my own, so all in all a real curate's egg of a performance from an unpredictable maverick. Overall, I'm glad that I reconnected with Kristin "live" tonight, but next time, and rather perversely, I might be more inclined to see her less "loud"... 

1,128 DESPERATE JOURNALIST, She Makes War, Oh! The Guilt, Bristol Exchange, Thursday 21 March 2019

Just over 16 months since I've last seen this lot, but it seems much longer... London's young Desperate Journalist, a band who burst into my consciousness with a series of gigs and releases recalling that dark and dramatic 80's post punk, goth tinged rock template but with their own, uniquely post-millennial spin, a band who likely already wear the heavy mantle of Best Band In Britain, but a band who I completely missed "live" in 2018, due to unfortunate gig/ holiday clashes. That year, they snuck out a very fine EP, followed by an utterly devastating single "Cedars", a precursor for this year's 3rd full-length, "In Search Of The Miraculous". Both single and album denote a slight pace-change, powering down from the often-frantic gallop of earlier releases, revealing instead an imperious, stately set of gloriously epic, soaring anthems. Brilliant stuff, most likely a serious contender for Album Of The Year (yes, already!), so a gig this time round for me was an essential date!

Not just for me; their UK tour happily included a Bristol date, so I had a full carload and a convoluted pick-up, collecting Beef, Andy, Ady and Stuart before hitting the beat route to Brizzle, parking up in a sneaky nearby spot in good time for openers Oh! The Guilt, on at 7.45. An aptly named 3-piece, as it happened, as their music seemed weighed down by swathes of remorse, starting off bleakly and funereally, before bursting into a plod (!). I'm normally one for some gloom and doom, and certainly there were interesting morose bits, but I subsequently found the female co-vocalist's falsetto really grating, so sought shelter in the bar with the boys.

Back in for main support She Makes War at 8.30; another attraction for this gig (if more were needed) was Laura's late addition to the bill as a full band showing, and, after a few years of SMW skirting around the periphery of my musical vision, I'm glad to say I'm fully on board with her now, especially so after last year's "Brace For Impact" album, which marks a progression from the wistful dreampop of yore into slightly more upbeat, grungier and more guitar-riff driven territory. After a couple of oldies for starters (a tough, haunting "Drown Me Out" a feature), this material dominated the set tonight, with a discordant "Undone", the sleek 60's film theme feel of "Fortify", the exciting Pixies-ish hobnail-booted stomp of "Devastate Me" and a powerpoppy quiet-loud "Love This Body", which for me recalled Radish's excellent "Little Pink Stars". In between numbers, Laura was also in fine fettle, referring to her band as, "the fluffers of the evening!" and urging folks to buy her merch, particularly her new album on vinyl, as it's the same colour as her dog! A spot-on support slot, which left me very much looking forward to her similar date with Juliana Hatfield in May.

Stu and I had shipped up front centre for SMW, so there we stayed as the place really filled up around us; surely this was close to, if not actually sold out on the night! At 9.30, Desperate Journalist took the stage to the excellent backing track of Simple Minds' classic "Theme For Great Cities", vocalist Jo Bevan shaking her tail feathers to it as the band plugged in. Then on with "Murmuration", which, a funereal death march on CD, really took flight "live", and any doubts that we were due to witness an utterly exemplary performance from the Best Band In Britain were quickly dispelled. The components are impressive enough; Caz, a human metronome with her unfussy and strikingly clipped drum style, Simon laying down some frankly flesh-creeping bass, Rob coaxing shimmering and resonant noise from his Rickenbacker, already having evolved his style way beyond the Johnny Marr comparisons, and Jo, wide-eyed, secret agent black-clad, buckling over in two to add further passion and strident power to her vocals. However, combined, they form a shimmering and brilliant whole, and with the new material they seem reinvented and re-invigorated, the butterfly emerging from the chrysalis.

"Boring" saw Jo speak the flippant verses, adding suitably dismissive emphasis, but after a dynamically gothy "Jonatan", with Rob's intricate riffery recalling "She Sells Sanctuary", it was "Cedars" that was the real standout gem. Already the high watermark in their canon, this was breathtakingly widescreen and soaring in its scope and conception, and executed flawlessly, already a classic, their "Killing Moon" in the making. Yup, that good.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses tonight; the sound fluctuated a little from our front row positions (too close to the action, perhaps?), and Jo continually pleaded for more vocals in her monitor, things coming to a head as she, visibly frustrated, banged constantly on her vocal pedal during "Lacking". However, a moment's pause and a beer from Caz saw her roar back to her commanding and imperious best with a galloping "Ocean Wave", a subsequent "Cristina" and closer "Satellite" both utter bangers to round off a magnificent set, most of which I'd been jumping around to like a loon, happily bouncing off some thankfully soft stage-front padding!

"Resolution", the sole encore, was a huge, fist-pimping finale, then 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and it was over, leaving me to collect my thoughts, grab some brief words with a friendly yet besieged Laura, then get the big bass fella to get my list signed by his cohorts, secreted upstairs. Gathered the troops and headed off, before a diversion off the M4 saw us tramping through Malmesbury at the dead of night, hitting the hay at 12.30 after final dropoff. Utterly brilliant stuff tonight, though, and well worth that minor hassle; it's early days, sure, but the Best Band In Britain may just have followed up a serious contender for Best Album of 2019 with a serious contender for Best Gig of 2019. Desperate Journalist are back… and how!

1,127 BOB MOULD, Pabst, London Camden Electric Ballroom, Thursday 14 March 2019

Ironic that the only 2 London dates on my "Spring Dance Card" should not only come less than one week apart at the same Camden venue, but also both feature Minneapolis natives! The ever-prolific US alt-rock legend (not a word I use lightly, but one which fits utterly appropriately astride his broad monolithic shoulders) Bob Mould dropped yet another album earlier this year, his 5th in a productive last 10 years, and this one, "Sunshine Rock", signalled a slight reframing of mood, if not of his trademark strident guitar-driven sheet-metal buzzsaw popcore. Mooted as his happiest and most upbeat for years, it's a glory-box of corking tuneage and buzzing hooky choruses, and I for one couldn't wait to hear it "live". However, the Electric Ballroom was the closest his short UK tour would get to the 'don (no Bristol this time... Boo!), so I'd just have to suck it up and hit the beat route oop the Smoke... again!

Another early departure straight from work, but unfortunately a reverse effect to last Friday; quick and easy run to Heston then a painful crawl into the Bush, parking up later than desired and a hike away from the tube. Bah! No delays on the tube this time, but because this was a later gig I arrived at 7.40, 40 minutes before openers Pabst were due on. Double Bah! When they eventually arrived (a little earlier than scheduled, thankfully), they announced themselves as, "from Berlin" (Bob's current home from home) declaring this their biggest show yet, and opened with a sneering, funky drummer beat-based psych-pop number recalling The Charlatans. Their subsequent set delved into more 60's, swirly and swaggering proto-blues, featuring some neat audience-fooling stop-starts and some drum-dominated, loose limbed effects pedal workouts resembling Dark Star (remember them?). Some dirty grungy noise thrown in the melting pot for good measure, and overall they left a favourable if not lasting impression. They seemed psyched to be here, at least...!

The place filled considerably and felt close to a sell-out; Bob clearly felt the same as, after the lights dimmed from a spot lit red to strobe white, the band took the stage to a kitsch German cabaret number and Bob mouthed, "wow!" to himself before greeting the crowd with a, "how y'all doing?", thence rampaging into opener "The War", the hooky upbeat popcore typical of the new material. The quickfire opening salvo also included forays into his old bands, with Sugar's seething terrace chant "A Good Idea" being followed by a rampant "I Apologise". This was all breath-taking stuff early doors, with Big Cat Bob prowling the stage and delivering his vocals with his throaty Smilodon roar, backed up admirably by his usual Superchunk rhythm section. However, the sound wasn't as loud and overpowering as usual Bob gigs (don't get me wrong, this was actually welcome as it revealed a number of nuances to the material, rather than burying them under swathes of white noise), and the audience was disappointingly static, despite a brilliant early "See A Little Light". However, rampant newie "Sunny Love Song" saw a big bloke smash past me, then another, then another... and by the tumbling thrill-ride of "Thirty Dozen Roses" I was being buffeted about in a wild but joyous moshpit.

A full band version of "Sinners And Their Repentances" seemed a little incongruous compared to ths stripped back, folky “Workbook” version, but normal service was soon restored with a frankly amazing "If I Can't Change Your Mind", a soaring, joyful mosh singalong and easily my set highlight (Bob's too, judging by the huge grin which crossed his snowy-stubbled features). "This is fun, right?" he quipped before a triad of Husker Du numbers to close the set perfectly, culminating in a brilliant, air-punching "New Day Rising", by which time I'd grabbed some barrier and was screaming the hook back at bassist Jason Narducy for all I was worth.

A poignant moment opened the encore, as Bob, solo, delivered a heart-breaking cover of Grant Hart's "Never Talking To You Again" (Hart, Bob’s bandmate in Husker Du being sadly lost some 18 months ago), before the irresistible hook of "Makes No Sense At All" closed out a supreme 1 1/2 hours rock, Bob taking centre stage and basking in the deserved applause afterwards, like a king surveying his domain. Quite right too!

Quick list then I was off and running, or so I thought; back to the car and out of London in short order, but then a sodden M4, a lengthy and confusing diversion around the M25 and A4 in Slough, and 16 miles of 50mph roadworks (!) saw me get home at a red-eyed 1.15. Bah! Not many I'd grit my teeth and do that journey for, especially on a school night, but on tonight’s form, the legend that is Bob Mould is firmly on that list!

1,126 STIFF LITTLE FINGERS, Eddie and the Hot Rods, Bristol O2 Academy, Sunday 10 March 2019

From one tradition that's just starting, last time out with The Hold Steady, to one that's well established with original politico-protest punks Stiff Little Fingers! For the 14th time in 15 years - and 19th time overall – da Fingers appear on my "Spring Dance Card", their usual March tour making its traditional Bristol Academy stop, this time on a Sunday (sadly meaning junior punker Logan was left at home on a school night). Only one thing to say, as ever... Go For It!

Going For It with me was The Big Man (as usual) and Ady too, and I picked them both up from Rich's new place promptly, for an early drive down. The reason for this early arrival was that I wanted to catch support Eddie And The Hot Rods' set given that it was likely their last tour, having already played a farewell 100 Club gig under the banner of "Done Everything We Wanna Do". The Rods came on at 7.45 to the rockabilly bar-room blues of "Teenage Depression", thereafter rocking through a well-played set of their proto-punk New Wavey powerpop, with elements of that mid-70s Canvey Island pub rock Feelgood sound. The problem however tonight was vocalist Barrie Masters; apparently 62 but looking (and carrying himself) at least a decade older (particularly when his trademark sunglasses were discarded), his voice deteriorated badly after a decent mid-set "Quit This Town", and by the otherwise fine set closers, the ubiquitous and classic "Do Anything You Wanna Do" and cover of Them’s "Gloria", he was being propped up considerably by his excellent guitarist and the crowd singalongs. A bit of a shame, but glad I got to see this classic old band one last time.

A lot of shit 70's pre-punk records over the PA (which prompted me to remark to Rich, "this is why punk was so necessary!") were eventually – and thankfully – cut short by SLF's excellent, rousing  singalong "Go For It" entrance music, heralding the boys onstage at 9.10, and whilst unexpected opener "Law And Order" and a drum-propelled "At The Edge" felt like them gradually easing in, an early, incendiary "Suspect Device" really kicked the early gig into life. “We’re gonna blow up in your face…!” damn right!

"You may have noticed [from the opening numbers], that we're gonna wander off the beaten track a bit tonight!" announced Jake, and so it proved! So we had a higher proliferation of post-reunion numbers, thankfully mostly introduced with some of Jake's trademark scathing social commentary (a bit absent, sadly, in recent years); newie "16 Shots" dealt with the grim subject of a teen killed by the police and was delivered with suitably fitting anger and vitriol, "Don't Call Me Harp" attacked institutionalised racism ("since the rise of Kommandant Trump and his cronies, some people think racist behaviour has become normalised. It fucking hasn't!") and an equally Irish folk-tinged "Guilty As Sin" set its sights on abuse in the Catholic Church. A warm ovation also met Jake's referencing of the recent untimely loss of The Prodigy's Keith Flint, his comment of, "if you're suffering with depression, for fucks sake talk about it please, don't become a statistic!" leading into an entirely apposite, and rather superb, "My Dark Places".

This "off the beaten track" approach however meant the omission of the likes of "Barbed Wire Love", "Roots Radicals" and "Johnny Was" in favour of the above “newies”, plus a smattering of rarely-played oldies; "Law And Order" aside, "State Of Emergency" was introduced by Jake as "possibly the first song I wrote for the band," and, later, a solo Jake number, the almost Cochran-rockabilly feel of "Drinking Again", got an even rarer first encore outing. However, the old familiars still shone brightest; a triple threat set closer of "Just Fade Away", "Nobody's Hero" and a brilliant terrace chant-along closing "Gotta Getaway" (my highlight tonight by some distance), was a superb way to end the set, and encore "Tin Soldiers" was sprawling and epic, before the usual punctuation point of "Alternative Ulster" and fulsome thanks and bows from the band to end the night.

No list, though, the obstreperous head roadie haughtily ignoring requests, but a more helpful soundman declaring they're "not allowed" to hand them out tonight. Dunno why, it's not like someone's going to scan it and put it up on their blog... Oh...!

So we headed off after another wholly entertaining SLF "Mad March" gig. Kudos to the boys for shaking the set up and taking the path less trodden. Whatever, we'll no doubt be back for more – my 20th – in 2020!

1,125 THE HOLD STEADY, Crewel Intentions, London Camden Electric Ballroom, Friday 8 March 2019

“Let this be our annual reminder...", or, how a one-off becomes deja vu, then a tradition... Minneapolis’ finest, The Hold Steady, seemed to enjoy last March's 3-night London stand (itself a continuation of their celebratory round-tripper honouring the 10th Anniversary of their breakthrough album "Boys And Girls In America") so much, they announced plans to do it all over again! And so, inevitably, did I... Having asserted, probably since "Boys And Girls..." first rampaged its' way into my consciousness with its blend of deliciously wordy, ragged and raw-boned US alt-popcore, encapsulating so much of what I love about this rock malarkey, that this lot are indubitably The Greatest Rock'n'Roll Band on Planet Earth, I was determined to keep this Killer Party going as well, booking tix (again) for the Friday night Leccy Ballroom first night. 

So, I left early from work oop the Smoke, hitting traffic near Windsor then the aftermath of a shunt shortly afterwards, as the traffic police held us for 15 minutes to clear the debris. However, after a change stop at Heston (lenses, shorts and kneestraps - all personal necessities after last year!), further access into London was startlingly easy and I parked up usual spot, usual time, no problem. Another delay, though, being held on the Underground at Edgware Road, saw me hitting the venue just after 20 past 7 to find this was a (very) early one! After the necessary loo stop, then, support Crewel Intentions (apparently former Palma Violets mainman Chilli Jesson's new Spaghetti Western direction) were but a low and quickly disappearing rumble in the distance. 

Grabbed a spot near the front and chatted with a fellow punter (hey Ian!) before the lights dimmed and the "Pink Panther" theme tune crept surreptitiously in, heralding the entrance of The Hold Steady at an unfeasibly early 7.50. "We're The Hold Steady, we're going to build something this weekend!" announced vocalist Craig Finn to cheers, the band thereby bursting into the strident Husker Du-popcore lite of "Constructive Summer". And we were away... or so I thought… Craig Finn was his usual ebullient, rabble-rousing self, repeating lines off-mic as usual with a huge stupid grin never far from his features; the band were in fine, rocking fettle, swaggering and strutting, and a moshpit was responding in kind. However, that fabled and almost mystical connection between band and audience, the elusive X Factor that elevates a Hold Steady gig to the ranks of the Very Special Indeed, seemed oddly absent early doors. Don't get me wrong, even a routine Hold Steady gig knocks most gigs into a cocked hat and I was still enjoying myself; it just seemed a little... erm, flat... For them, anyway... Despite highlights such as a rollicking "Sequestered In Memphis", the tumbling chaos of "Yeah Sapphire" and the backlit spotlight of "On With The Business", there may have otherwise been maybe too many mid-paced numbers for me, and I often found myself hoping for a real moshpit-kicking banger such as "Frighten You" or "Adderall", both sadly absent from tonight’s set. 

One hour in, though, it all changed... announcing it as a song about love, hope and other myriad things, Finn counted in Tad Kubler's riff into "Stuck Between Stations", and the place erupted. Like, really fucking Vesuvius-style erupted... One huge explosion of rock'n'roll joy and rapture, the moshpit expanding exponentially, sweeping me along in its wake. The rest of the set was thereafter one huge communal event, the type where you sweatily hug complete strangers and scream lyrics in their faces; a brilliant "Hoodrat Friend" saw Finn proclaim God gave him permission for a pre-Lent "pre-tox"(!), "Massive Nights" and "Southtown Girls" were huge, euphoric communal singalongs, and "Slapped Actresses" a swaggering set closer. 

Thankfully, the encores continued this all-inclusive vibe, with the blaring riff of "The Swish", the roaring chorus of "Stay Positive" and a magnificent final "Killer Parties", introduced by Finn announcing that this will indeed become a tradition ("we'll do this again next year! And the year after...!"), then further tapping into the spirit of the night by asking the audience to join in with his usual proclamation that, "There is so much joy in what we do up here!" And tonight that was reflected down here as well... eventually, at least!

 

Collected my thoughts, chatted with a few punters inside and out (including my moshpit friend from last year's gig!), then a swift drive home pitched me back into the 'don just after midnight. Nice work! A bit of settling in for a long weekend initially, maybe, but when they did hit their stride it was the same old Hold Steady. That being, as euphoric, essential and brilliant as rock'n'roll gets... I've already set my reminder for THS 2020!