1,144 INDOOR PETS, St. Agnes, London Chiswick Metropolis Studios, Monday 24th June 2019

Happy Birthday to me! And on my birthday I’m always up for a gig, particularly if it’s a) by one of my favourite new bands, the spiky, spunky spritely young powerpop bucks Indoor Pets, and b) it’s free! I didn’t know what I was signing up for tonight, however; Indoor Pets announced on their Facebook page that they’d be “recording a live session” at Metropolis Studios in Chiswick, and tickets to come and watch were free but incredibly limited… so I put my name down, thinking it might be a gig, it might be watching a recording studio sesh, who knows? Either way, it’d be a fun thing to do on my birthday!

One of the nice things my company does is to give everyone their birthday off work, so this trip plan was expanded to do some shopping oop t’Smoke! So, after a morning taking Kasey around a prospective Senior School and an impromptu trip into town to buy a new phone, to replace my old handset which took a swim in the cinema loo at the weekend (!), I set off about 1ish, parking up at Osterley and tubing it to Notting Hill, then hitting the book, comic and record exchanges. Eventually tubed it back over to Chiswick (the right side of town for a gig as well!), found the venue and loitered in the vicinity before they let us in at 7. The audience were ushered to the upstairs bar and I found a comfy sofa to sit on and work out my new phone’s inner machinations, before we were then all ushered back downstairs to a small, wood-lined and very pink-lit studio, with a stage set-up at the far end. Ah, so it is a gig, then…

I’d actually bumped into IP bassist Olly in the bar upstairs who primed me on the running order, so before da Pets were due on at 9, we had another session from St. Agnes, who kicked into gear at 8. Unfortunately, they were awful; clumsy and ham-fisted gothy hard rock straight from the Almighty school of heavy-handed rawwwwwwk riffery, with a screaming goth female vocalist who seemed to think feigning orgasm sounds is still “rock’n’roll” in 2019. And I do actually like my goth, me – I was hunting around for a Virgin Prunes 12” in Notting Hill earlier – but this was just dated, turgid, lumpen and really heavy going, with lyrical couplets such as “death or glory, I don’t really care”… I endured a couple of numbers before retreating to my comfy sofa, where unfortunately they were still audible, albeit quieter!

Took a wander back down as St. Agnes finished their crushingly loud final number, and the “rock” half of the crowd filed out. This left the tiny room happily less crowded but still stiflingly hot, as Indoor Pets set up. Just after 9 we were good to go, though, and the boys took the stage, crashing into a noisy instrumental opener before helium-voiced gabbling motormouth vocalist Jamie Glass kicked in with the opening lines to the bouncy, buoyant “Cutie Pie, I’m Bloated”, kicking off a soaring rambunctious rendition and eliciting lots of jumping about – both onstage and off!

Indoor Pets were once again in rare form tonight, an onstage whirl of energy, angular shapes, rubber-kneed bounce and swirling hair, particularly from Olly and guitarist Rob. Jamie was his usual effervescent self, quipping, “thanks for coming down! We’re worth every penny of the ticket price!” before the flippant slow grunge of “Couch”, which for me recalled the sardonic sparkle of Glitterbox (remember them?). “Teriyaki” was terrific, off-kilter, fast and frantic, before the sweaty vocalist (suffering with his glasses steaming up throughout) asked, “who’s on the water?” prompting the roadies to hand out bottles to the melting front rows. Once again the new album material showed up well, the likes of “Heavy Thoughts” in particular soaring, anthemic and hooky, yet my highlights were the final 2 numbers; “Barbiturates”, as bitter, biting and yet bouncy as ever, and a frenzied, moshpit-inducing “Pro Procrastinator”, which closed out this 40 minute vignette. “You’re so kind!” remarked Jamie, “I think you’d have paid for a ticket!” Maybe, just maybe, we would have…!

A quick chat with Rob before I wished him and the boys well on their Weezer Brixton Academy support slot this weekend, and headed off, unfortunately having a 20 minute wait for my tube before getting back to the motor, a swift rant down the M4 getting me home at 12.30 before I nodded off! Nonetheless, a fine way to spend my 27^th (twice!) birthday, with a band who (finally) seem to be going places – Indoor Pets!

1,142 GAZ BROOKFIELD, Simon Hall; 1143 RAZE*REBUILD, Swindon Beehive; Swindon Regent, Friday 21st June 2019

What had threatened to be a rather unfortunate gig clash – and indeed, earlier in the evening, a medical emergency-induced double blowout – turned into a quite splendid raucous 2 gig night out in the ‘don! I’d long penned local blue-collar rock faves Raze*Rebuild’s 2019 debut into my Spring Dance Card, tonight’s show at The Regent serving as both Shuffle warm-up and a celebratory performance for Regent (and former Castle) landlady Audrey’s birthday; however, acoustic folk/punk guitar basher and gig regular Gaz Brookfield then announced an impromptu solo performance at The Beehive – for the same night! To make matters worse, said gig was going to be part-recorded for a mob singalong to feature on his new album! Bugger! Heavy of heart, I decided to stick to my initial plan and go see Raze, but call at The Beehive first – where Raze frontman Si Hall was pulling a double shift of his own tonight, doing an acoustic solo support slot for Gaz – and tender my apologies to the man, maybe catch some of his set before legging it up the hill to The Regent if timings were favourable. You never know…!

But then the medical emergency; earlier in the week I’d been prescribed Beta-blockers to start to address a long-standing (and hereditary) atrial fibrillation issue, but I’d reacted badly to them, suffering with shortness of breath. In fact, after my leisurely cycle commute home Friday evening, I was gasping like a guppy fish on dry land, and in need of medical advice. Thus, I was frustratingly sat in an out-of-hours Doc’s surgery at 8.15, calming my breathing down but increasing my blood pressure at possibly missing out on tonight’s shenanigans! An all-clear (and chuck the damn Beta-blockers away!) from the doc later, I drove swiftly up the hill, hitting a well-attended Beehive to catch the last 3 numbers of Si’s set. “Kat I’m Sorry” sounded as impassioned as ever, Si warming up his larynx for later, an acoustic “Back To The Fall” nonetheless went well (“I wasn’t sure how that would go!” confessed Si), and “Sand In The Petrol” (“a sad slow one to end on a high note!”) rounded off a fine and well observed, if slightly reined-in set, Si thanking all and sundry for being so attentive!

I passed on my apologies to a magnanimous and understanding Gaz, also informing him of Logan’s mention of him on our recent “Dinosaur To Junior” appearance on Steve Lamacq’s Radio 6 show. Si advised Raze were due on about 10, which happily gave me about ½ hour of the Brookfield, so I stuck around, chilling outside with Ady then popping in for Gaz’ set at 9.30. A fun newie to start, featuring some wordy interplay about writing new songs, ironically enough, then we were straight into the likes of “Diabetes Blues”, “Gunner Haines” and “Under The Table”, to a loud reception from the raucous crowd, who to Gaz’ obvious delight, sang along to pretty much everything. No fool Gaz; he’d clearly thought this through and picked a set of well-known, roof-raising singalong bangers to really warm the crowd’s collective larynx in advance of the mob singalong. In good fooling too, the man; “Haines” was introduced with a quip of, “a song about a dead soldier – keeping it light!”, “So Very Rock And Roll” was, in Gaz’ words, “what its’ really like to be a professional musician – “professional musician”, hah! Both of those words are a lie!”, and a punky “I’ve Paid My Money” allegedly had it’s first 2 verses, “written by pricks!”

“Maps”, oddly enough, was a stand-out, things getting weird as the audience kept calling out the title, so by the later “Be The Bigger Man”, the audience were in clear party spirits.

(Me too – by this time I’d excused myself at 10, but a swift wander up The Regent revealed things running very late, openers Flour Babies having just started their set! Thus buoyed, I popped back down The Beehive for the rest of Gaz!)

So I was happily there for the recording; a couple of runs through “Great Minds Drink Alike”, Gaz performing it off-mic in the middle of the crowd, with everyone giving it their roof-raising lustiest best voices. So it seems that, along with a few dozen other loud punters, I’m on the next Gaz Brookfield album. Great stuff! Gaz broke out the Whitney Houston cover after that, which was a fortuitous time to head up the hill, where Raze*Rebuild were plugging in and getting ready for launch at 11. Good timing!

Due to my medical issues earlier, I was strictly instructed not to dance, but I nonetheless took my usual front row spot for Raze’s opener “Burden Of Youth”, being joined by Ady and also old mates Avril and Ingrid, out on a girly night and clearly, erm, well-refreshed…! “Burden” was a rampaging opener setting the stall out for the set, Si clearly saving his roar for this one, and an almost jolly “Face For Radio” followed, a few folks dancing along and myself obeying doctors orders, contenting myself with a gentle sway… Damn shame, as this was pretty much a totally incendiary set – in fact, I’m sure that if you looked up the word “incendiary” in the Oxford English Dictionary of Rock, there’d be a pic of Si in full flow, lionesque roar and bulging neck veins, backed up by Matt intricately picking the riffery, Paj head bobbing in time to the bass, and Jamie pounding furiously away at the back. Another clear masterclass in what makes “live” rock’n’roll such an inclusive, visceral experience; again, by no means note-perfect or technically spot-on, but raw-boned, raggedy-arsed, sweaty and hellishly awesome. The rampant “New Leaf” got me a namecheck, “Sand In The Petrol” was honest and impassioned (for the second time tonight!) and “Troubled Minds” was a brilliant punky blast.

“This has gone way better than I thought!” gasped Si at the encore; “set the bar low and you can’t fail to be impressed!” as they launched into closer “Back To The Fall”. Another great, rocking set from the Raze; they’re well warmed up for The Shuffle, I’d say, and hopefully I’ll have my dancing shorts back on then and will be able to do them justice…

Chats with friends and the Raze boys afterwards – I think they appreciated my mentioning them on Lamacq’s show, which was nice – then a wander back to the car via The Beehive for a quick word with Gaz; and an almost London-late 12.45 home time… good thing it’s Friday night! So, another slap in the face for anyone who says nothing happens in Swindon; this was a great double-header out in the ‘don!

1,141 THE PETE WYLIE SHOW, Birmingham O2 Academy 3, Friday 7th June 2019

Ridiculously, given that his debut Wah! Heat… album “Nah=Poo; The Art Of Bluff” was part of my teenage voyage of post-punk discovery in the early 80’s, tonight marked the first time I’d ever seen Pete Wylie “live” in his own right… Wylie was the self-confessed maverick motormouth and self-publicist from that amazingly fertile Eric’s/ Liverpool post-punk scene, the least prolific of the “Crucial Three” triumvirate which included Julian Cope and the Bunnymen’s Ian McCulloch yet arguably the most commercially successful, with the anthemic earworm likes of “Come Back”, “Sinful” and particularly “The Story Of The Blues” bothering the upper reaches of the singles charts in the 80’s. Seemingly also the most gig-shy as well; I’d only seen him once before, with Dead Men Walking at Swindon Arts Centre in 2001 (gig 535), an Oxford gig on a recent tour having been cancelled after I’d gotten tix (bah!), so when facebook friend Russ advertised a spare ticket for this Birmingham show, I quickly took it up, relishing the chance to right both an ancient and recent wrong!

Made arrangements to meet up with Russ and hit the road straight from work at 4, only to get a call from the man to advise that a family emergency would preclude his attendance. Russ kindly pdf’ed me over the tickets and I parked up in my pre-booked Horsefair car park slot after a difficult Friday night traffic-affected drive up, thence needing a run into New Street station to find a loo! Wandered into the Academy 3; the smallest of this complex of venues, this was a tiny 250-capacity ground floor room, deserted early doors whilst a couple of blokes were feverishly working on a fairly elaborate stage set-up – a gazebo frame with banners, twinkling lights and “Pete Sounds” t-shirts suspended from it! The man himself emerged to briefly oversee events, evoking memories of that time Wayne Coyne got handy with a spanner to set up The Flaming Lips’ gong in Oxford on that Mercury Rev support tour (gig 405). Sat and watched the place (very) slowly fill up until a loo trip predictably saw me lose my seat, so took a wander down the front instead.

At 8.30 prompt, Wylie’ young sidekick Anders took the stage and switched on a rocking rhythm on a PC, then Wylie emerged, rounded and resplendent in black, topped with a red scarf, quipping immediately about his wingman; “I booked a tour and he booked a holiday! We’re lucky to have him [tonight] – next week I’ll be pushing my own buttons!”, then, in response to some good-natured heckling, Wylie evoked Liverpool’s recent Champion’s League win and laid into his host city’s football clubs, “we’ve only got one shit team in our town!”

It became immediately apparent that I’d need to quickly remove the stick from my ass about “taped” performances; I have a real problem with that, dating back to that execrable PWEI Reading 1991 performance (gig 191), and even recently laid into a support act who used pre-recordings, dismissing them as “goth karaoke”. Yet here was one of my post-punk icons only playing guitar “live”, and using bass and drum pre-recordings… Wylie however made the point that this would be the only way he could perform “live” (“I don’t know any Liverpool musicians anymore, and I can’t afford musicians not from Liverpool!”), confirmed that he’d played all the recordings himself, then announced; “hope you enjoy it – and if you don’t – fuck off!” Fair enough then! He kicked off with newie “I Still Believe”, a big heroic flag waver and almost a companion piece to Frank Turner’s song of the same name, equally as impassioned and topical, and featuring a lyric “it makes no difference if you disagree, ‘cos I’m taking ‘bout me, yeah, I’m talking ‘bout me” which may as well have been a metaphor for the whole night!

Tonight was indeed an astonishing insight into Wylie the musician and Wylie the man; musically this was a supreme performance, the likes of “Fourelevenfortyfour” and “Sinful” anthemic singalong highlights of the opening set, standing proud next to an acerbic yet utterly joyful “The Day That Margaret Thatcher Died”. The between song banter was equally as memorable, veering from disarmingly honest (“I’ve had a brilliant 20 year career – over 40 years” and “I’ve had mental health battles – they’re mostly skirmishes now”) to side-achingly funny (commenting on the rainy journey down, “at one point we saw a dolphin get run over,” and elaborating on his early 90’s health issues with, “I broke my back in 1991 and was gutted as I couldn’t die like a Rockstar! I’d have been rich – dead but rich…!”) yet the love of music ran through his core like a stick of rock (“music saved my life – and nearly killed me too – it’s a trade-off!”). Plenty of time too, to celebrate those who walked alongside him on the journey, including a couple of numbers poignantly dedicated to old partner Josie Jones, lost 3 years ago.

A short pause followed a 1 hour 10 opening set, the second set opening fittingly with “Come Back”, probably my highlight of a night of so many – epic, widescreen and soaring doesn’t start to do it justice… newie “People (The Rise Of Dunning-Kruger)” had an explanatory preamble (Dunning-Kruger apparently being a theory about stupid people being too stupid to realise how stupid they’re being – plenty of them in the world right now!) before Wylie introduced the song itself as his take on an anti-racist song in the style of the Beach Boys! He bolted on a fat acoustic for a genuinely affecting “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory” before ranting through a dark, dramatic and punky “Seven Minutes To Midnight”, sideswiping the idiot Number 45 in the process. Ultimately, the inevitable “Story Of The Blues” finished off an amazing 2 hour+ performance, Wylie leaving us with fulsome compliments – “I fucking love it here; it’s not true what they say!” before returning for the “Blues Reprise” after the lights had come on, leaving us with the salient comments of, “there’s no fake news, there’s just lies!” and “we’re gonna win – because we’ve gotta win – for the future!”. The man cares. Deeply. Still. Just… wow.

And an exemplary evening was capped by a pic and quick words with the great man, before an equally difficult squally rain-affected run home. Despite the tapes, this was stunning stuff from a captivating singer, raconteur and performer with charisma and chutzpah to throw away. Tonight it was a privilege to see him finally perform, after so many years, and hopefully this first time won’t be the last time!