1,176 THE MURDER CAPITAL, Egyptian Blue, Unorthodox Coolock, Bristol SWX, Wednesday 19th February 2020

Support set-list only this time... hey, sometimes you get the bear, sometimes the bear gets you...!

Another early 2020 trip down to SWX for me, this time to see The Murder Capital, a band I'd just missed on their last go-round, moving too slow before their Exchange gig sold out... Following the likes of Spectres, Autobahn, Idles and more obviously 2019's much-hyped rock press darlings Fontaines DC (whom I like fine, but find the vocalist somewhat off-key and jarring, and for whom I gave up my Oxford O2 ticket to my friend Andy, as that gig fell one day after a knackered return from Boston in November!), this Irish post-punk band of gentlemen ruffians take their sonic cue from the likes of Killing Joke, The Fall and The Birthday Party with a bruising, viscerally dark, claustrophobic yet intriguing sound, encapsulated in an impressive debut album, last year's "When I Have Fears". It's a bleak, uncompromising vision, but, let's face it, with a name like "The Murder Capital", this lot are hardly likely to cover "Shiny Happy People", are they? So, prime proponents of the type of aggressive post-punk I'm increasingly referring to as "Arthur Shelby Rock" (as it all invariably sounds like it should be sound-tracking a scene from "Peaky Blinders", where the Shelby's attack dog gives someone a fucking good kicking down a darkened alleyway), I was curious to see how this worked "live"; a set to be enjoyed, or endured?

Equally curious was old school and recent Facebook friend Keith, along with the aforementioned Andy, so we left early, queueing to get onto the M4 but then enjoying a swift drive down catching up. Pitched up midway through opener Unorthodox Coolock, an Irish poet-raconteur whose social commentary was worthy if a little hectoring, so we stayed at the back of this already busy venue, wandering forward to a spot house right for main support Egyptian Blue, on at 8.15. Straight away a considerably more enticing proposition, all Will Sargent guitar textures, long gloomy raincoats, taut and tense rhythm and building mid-song crescendos, they not only elicited the obvious Bunnymen/ British Sea Power comparisons, but also the regimented, metronomic jangle and clipped vocals of the likes of Mission Of Burma or Gang Of Four. A study of insouciance, with very little audience interaction - only their change-of-pace last number was introduced, and that only with, "this is our last number" - this was nonetheless a fine support set from impressive if currently slightly derivative newcomers.

We kept our spot, but the place got proper old school rammed, with big blokes barging past left and right. An uncomfortable wait then, before choking dry ice, strobe and feedback welcomed The Murder Capital onstage at 9.20, intense vocalist Jack McGovern taking the stage last, barking out the terrace-chant hook of opener "More Is Less" to an increasing and adoring moshpit, whereupon he abandoned the stage and joined in! Sure, seen that plenty of times, but rarely if ever during the opening number...!

"What's the fucking story Bristol!" announced McGovern, relishing in his chief rabble-rouser role, before the discordant siren scream and militaristic drumbeat of "For Everything", which kept up the initial frenzied pace. No one-trick ponies however, this lot, as following an apposite address from McGovern emphasising the sense of community TMC have felt during this tour, they delivered the set highlight in an elegiac and astonishing "On Twisted Ground"; stark, bare and affecting, drawing not only reverential silence from the crowd, but an emotional, impassioned vocal from McGovern. The boy can sing, no messin', and judging by the moment he took to compose himself afterwards, the song clearly cut deep.

A staccato, Interpol-like "Green And Blue" changed up the tempo if not eerie mood; "Don't Cling To Life" again saw a frenzied moshpit spread out even to our vantage point, then the caustic, fractured punk of final number "Feeling Fades" (which in a Frank Turner "Photosynthesis" moment, initially saw the crowd crouch down - not me, not with these knees! - before bursting into ragged, raucous life) saw McGovern crowdsurf to its denouement, rounding off a stunning set which, if somewhat short at 50 minutes, never left anything out, material-wise or in terms of commitment.

The set lists went quickly to the moshpit massive (fair enough really), but we caught our breath then chanced to have a quick word and handshake with a surprisingly softly-spoken and humble frontman, laudably following up his onstage proclamation that he’d hang out afterwards at the merch stand. So, a dark, brutal and raw-boned set then from The Murder Capital, yet delivered with a confidence and swagger from a band clearly destined for much greater things. Glad I caught them on the way up, because the sky appears to be the limit for this lot. And as for McGovern? Well, judging by his flagrantly puffing away at a couple of ciggies onstage, he's not the messiah - he's a very naughty boy!

1,175 PKEW PKEW PKEW, Abandon Ship, Southampton Joiner’s Arms, Tuesday 11th February 2020

I didn't need too much persuading for this one... a trip down to the South Coast to probably my favourite venue in the splendid Southampton Joiner's Arms, to see Canadian punk rabble Pkew Pkew Pkew, one of my breakthrough acts of 2019 thanks to a mighty fine album in "Optimal Lifestyles", and a breathless, euphoric and roof-raising Exchange set last May (gig 1,136) in support of Spanish Live Songs (ironically support stars themselves, last time out!). No pretending that just because I'm 54 and the owner of 2 dodgy knees that I'd behave myself and stand at the back delicately tapping a toe either... oh no, I know I'm going to lose my shit rocking out as much as my old bones will allow, so I prepared accordingly, with lenses, shorts, kneestraps and even pre-gig painkillers all sorted in advance!

Loins thusly girded, I set off at 7 as Rach was doing a pilates class, then enjoyed a fairly unencumbered drive down to Southampton and parked up at 8.30 about 10 steps from the Joiners' front door. Result! Sparsely populated - and cold! - in the hallowed back room early doors, so I popped back to the car to grab my hoodie, thence running into Pkew's bassist Emmett manning the merch stand. He remembered meeting me in Bristol, which was cool, and we had a quick chat about punk rock, The Menzingers and his own band. Popped back into the venue for some support act action; I'd missed openers Buds but was in place for main support Abandon Ship at 8.45, along with their young fanclub (!). A young 4-piece seemingly fronted by Seann Walsh's younger brother (!), they initially kicked into some fast-paced and heavy riffing post-grunge stuff, including an impressive "Worlds Apart" which recalled the frantic noise of Joyrider, before delving into more rhythmic-based and Britpoppy material, whilst retaining a penchant for a soaring hook and some impressive 3-part harmony or call-and-response choruses. A couple of later numbers recalled the urgent snappy pop brightness of The Candyskins (including the undulating fretwork of "See You Again", which needed a couple of goes as the hefty, hard-hitting drummer knacked up his kick pedal!), and closer "25 Minutes", with an almost ska/bluebeat verse beat powering up to an impressive chorus and building outro, climaxed a tidy little set from a band to watch.

A quick turnaround was expected, but there was still a fairly sparse turnout for some Tuesday punk rock in Southampton; still, at least that meant no problem getting down the front! Pkew Pkew Pkew came on at 9.35 accompanied by purple light and dry ice, immediately bursting into life with a ragged-arsed romp through opener "Passed Out", which immediately got me and a couple of other folks at the front rocking away, and which then segued hurriedly into the repetitive fist-pumping terrace chant of "Stop Calling Us Chief".

This was a proper punk rock show tonight; the "handle with care" signs having long since faded, Pkew Pkew Pkew gave their material a thorough and rather splendid roughhousing throughout. The sound was a bit muddied and dominated by guitar glare for me - not sure whether that was because it may have been set up for a fuller room, or because I largely had my head close to, or directly in, the onstage monitors! - but Pkew Pkew Pkew's obvious onstage enthusiasm and dynamism saw them powering through to deliver the type of ragged-edge "rise above" performance so redolent of the likes of American Hi-Fi and Raze*Rebuild. The boys happily shuttled between both albums - the Ramones-like dumbed-down drinking man's surf/skate-punk of their eponymous debut, and the more "mature" yet still frantic blue collar US alt rock-tinged material from that "Optimal Lifestyles" album - so a gleeful singalong "Asshole Pandemic" rubbed shoulders with a more considered Hold Steady-esque "Polynesian", and a more widescreen, Springsteen-like "Drinking Days" bookended with a ragged romp through an unexpected "Let's Order A Pizza" and a fist-pumping "I Wanna See A Wolf".

"We don't do encores so we've just got a couple of numbers left," announced Emmett in a rare up-for-air moment, then "Thirsty And Humble" and the official knee-killing, moshpit inducing "Mid- 20s Skateboarder" rounded off a brief yet kinetic 40 minutes. A little short, but probably just enough for my knees!

Hung out afterwards until I started to get some feeling back in my joints, before another chat with a buoyed Emmett, joking their next album might feature a song about me, entitled "Mid-50s Mosh-pitter"! Then, home for midnight after an easy drive up the A34. This was excellent fun tonight, a band on the ragged edge, on the verge of tumbling into chaos but powering through in true punk rock spirit, with gusto and enthusiasm. Sound not the best, but ultimately no matter, I was still totally immersed in the gig, rocking out to the rabble-rousing stylings of Pkew Pkew Pkew - as expected!

1,173 SI AND MATT HALL, New Bedlam Asylum; 1,174 THE MENZINGERS, SPANISH LOVE SONGS, Swindon The Tuppenny; Bristol SWX, Thursday 6th and Friday 7th February 2020,

A couple of “grown-up punk rock” gigs on consecutive nights which might initially have been 3; then nearly became just the one…!

So, Thursday first; following the recent untimely demise of Swindon’s finest, grizzled blue-collar alt-rock combo Raze*Rebuild, this pre-arranged booking for an acoustic Thursday show at the Tuppenny pub up the Old Town became vacant, only to be happily backfilled by… R*R mainstays Si and Matt Hall! So I made plans to go, safe (but disappointed) in the knowledge that my knees will no longer take a battering at the hands of their banded-up rampant alt-rock. However, in a typical “wait for one bus then two come at once” moment, fellow local US indie rock acolytes Abstraction Engine, a band I’ve yet to catch but had been meaning to for ages, booked a support slot at The Vic, same night! Neither the Hall boys nor AE’s exemplary frontman David knew in advance as to their set timings, so I drove up early doors in the vain hope that they wouldn’t clash.

 
Parked up in the final spot in the car park opposite the Vic, then took a wander in to find AE soundchecking in the back room. Decided not to disturb their work because, well, I’m not a selfish twat and it’s not all about me, so I took a wander to the Tupp, where Si and Matt were setting up (Matt with his new guitar which he’d made on a 6 day course!) but were happy to be disturbed and to confirm their headlining set would kick off at 9.30. Thus armed, I chatted awhile with the boys before heading back down to the Vic, where David and the AE boys were hanging out outside. “Tell me you’re on in ten minutes,” I hopefully inquired, only for David to sadly reply, “nope, we’re on at 9.30!” Bollocks! So, I stuck with the original plan, extended my apologies to a magnanimous band, then ‘twas back to The Tupp to meet up with Stu and find a couple of seats for opener New Bedlam Asylum. This proved to be a pseudonym for Charlie Miles, a young green-haired punk who immediately impressed and entertained with some full-on in-your-face acoustic punk rock ranting, the man sawing furiously at his gaffer-taped up instrument and gabbling 90 to the dozen, all angry, bilious, bucolic and full of angst and self-loathing, but also erudite and actually bloody funny. “Depression Goatee” was not only a suitably angst-ridden opener but a theme he’d continuously return to, in between other numbers encompassing pro-wrestling, veganism, some seriously left-leaning politics (a brilliantly scabrous “Shy Tory” being my favourite number of his set) and a Neutral Milk hotel homage (!). Superb dumb thrashy acoustic punk rock fun on one level, but given the breadth of his referencing (including Jeff Buckley, The Supremes and a host of artists I’d never heard of!), one suspects there’s a very cultured and intelligent mind beneath the punk rock self-loathing exterior. Either way, an impressive performer whom I’d like to catch again, and not only because he referred to me as, “guy who likes Neutral Milk Hotel”!

And now for something completely different…! Si and Matt were always going to sound low-key, at least initially, in comparison to young Charlie, both being beyond their angry shouty punk rock years…! Si sensibly gave props to the crowd (“this is unexpected - a roomful of people… for now…!”) and the opener (“I can’t do miserable tonight because Charlie just blew it out of the water! Charlie, this one’s for you, it’s called “Face For Radio”,” an unexpected faux pas which drew howls of laughter) as they eased into their stride. A melancholy alt-country “My Remedy” was an early highlight before “All The Gear”, a full-on knee-killer in band form, finally saw Si cut loose with the vein-bulging stentorian roar. A couple of Buzztone numbers embellished the set, albeit allegedly slowed down considerably from their 200 mph skate-punk versions (!), Si joking about putting these oldies up on Myspace back in the day (“Myspace? We’ve got a page on Ceefax!”), then “Kat I’m Sorry” saw a particularly impassioned vocal from Si and some excellent fretwork from Matt (Si repeatedly commenting on Matt’s self-made new guitar throughout). A fun cover of “Dancing In The Dark” skewered the obvious Springsteen comparisons in their music, before closer “Back To The Fall” was dedicated to me (!) for sticking around and not going to the Vic instead! A night of contrasting sets then, both notable and entertaining in their own right.

I bade farewell to all and sundry, promising to meet up with Si at the Menzingers’ gig in Bristol the following night; then things all started to go the way of the pear… Home at 11.30 to find an upset Rach up with Logan, the pain he’d been having in his legs for a couple of days having intensified. Rach took him up to A&E, leaving me to toss and turn all night, do Kasey’s school run the next morning then join her up in an A&E cubicle. After tests and admission, it was subsequently found to be a temporary viral infection, thankfully, but as I left at 4 to take Kasey for her swim lesson, they were still on the ward awaiting blood test results, so it looked as if I’d be needed to collect them and the intended trip down to Brizzle would be off…

Happily, the final test results came back OK and they taxi-ed home, and after checking things were OK, Logan was more comfortable and Rach could definitely cope without me, the gig was back on…! So, I left just after 6.30, hammering down the M4 then being held up by an utter dickhead BMW driver on the run into Bristol city centre, but still parking up, hitting the venue and squeezing down the front in time (just!) for Spanish Love Songs’ main support set at 7.20. An added attraction on tonight’s bill, they’d impressed last time out with a noisy, sweaty and all-hands-together Exchange set, and the crunchingly heavy riffery of opener “Losers” suggested more of the same tonight. Monolith vocalist Dylan Slocomb came up for air after a couple of bulldozing numbers, proclaiming, “Holy shit! Last time out we played the Exchange but I was super sick – this is more fun!”, before a speedier, strident and robust singalong “Sequels”.

The humble and self-effacing attitude of Dylan and the band – a feature last time out – was again to the fore, Dylan commenting, “I never thought we’d be releasing album No. 3 [today] and playing a room this size!” before completely filling it with their own brand of massive riffery, heavy and strong-armed drumbeats, and huge anthemic singalong choruses. Much of the set recalled the similarly bone-crushing relentlessness of Manchester Orchestra, although the likes of “The Boy Considers His Haircut” and a superb “Buffalo Buffalo” delved more into angsty yet gloriously shouty emo-punk territory. Dylan again announced, “really, this is the coolest thing ever!” before set closer “Beer And Nyquil” again underlined their inclusive vibe, their connection and empathy with their audience, with the hooky choral line of, “I want to hold it together” sung back by the crowd, providing a very fitting and apposite for a killer set. And this was just the support…!

Grabbed a breather and ran into Si (as promised), plus recent Gaz support star Ben Sydes! I knew there was an emo boy in him…! Took a spot house right on the crowded floor, as “A Praise Chorus” played over the tannoy, eliciting a singalong to the “crimson and clover” section… Then, 8.30 saw the lights smash to black and the intro music of “Rebel Rebel” herald The Menzingers onstage. Straight away they were “on it” with enthusiasm and gusto, the fast-paced opener of “Anna” ringing out, albeit sounding smoothier, shinier, and even a tad quieter after the behemoth Spanish Love Songs set…

I’d been late to the Menzingers party, having joined in for the ironically titled “After The Party” a couple of years back, which saw a maturing of their ragged emo punk into a more Gaslight Anthem-lite hooky and polished sound. New album “Hello Exile”, one of 2019’s finest, continues this journey for me, continuing the recent lyrical themes of moving from an extended adolescence into “proper” adulthood, and incorporating elements of Pixies-ish alt-rock, Americana and even a more countrified feel into their sound. Thus, the early likes of “Anna” and a soaring singalong “House On Fire” recalled a faster Gin Blossoms, and saw me plunging into a good-natured mosh – which featured a larger percentage of girls than I was expecting – and singing along with gusto, just the tonic I needed after a fraught day.

The boys were certainly having fun onstage, swapping vocal chores between bald, perpetually grinning Brian Bendis lookalike Tom May and his heftier, strong-armed colleague Greg Barnett, however things got increasingly violent in the mosh so I retreated to a supposedly safe distance, only to be followed by a white t-shirted bloke who, no matter how far back I went, seemed to be right in my face! I soon tired of this and swapped over to house left, the clarion call of “Burn After Writing” thankfully snapping me back into the gig. Greg remarked on an early singalong from a punter with, “I love it when that happens – especially when it sounds like a Disney pirate!” Don’t know what he’s insinuating about the Bristolian accent, but anyway… A mad mosh accompanied a tremendous “Telling Lies”, subsequently and thankfully diffused by a melancholy “Last To Know”, then later a punky double of “I Don’t Wanna Be An Asshole” and “Nice Things” preceded some proper old school punk, Tom channelling his inner Joe Strummer for a fine reading of The Clash’s “Death Or Glory”. My final mosh-visit was for their best number, the irresistibly bouncy set closer “Lookers”, by which time I was also on guard for a horde of crowd-surfers – again of both genders!

“Lookers” was the clear highlight of the night, so I could happily have done without the encore, then afterwards I held out for the drummer’s list, a helpful roadie throwing me the screwed-up ball as a prize. So, another night of equally meritorious yet contrasting sets, the gloss and tunefulness of The Menzingers contrasting with the seething and bludgeoning power of Spanish Love Songs. Heck, I liked ‘em both! A quick drive home and a kebab rounded off a fine evening and this two-in-two. Great stuff from all 4 acts… and, more importantly, a son who’s now fully on the mend after a brief but scary illness. That’ll do for me!