1,235 SOCCER MOMMY, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Sunday 26th June 2022

 

Another Rough Trade in-store gig and CD signing session, but this time with daughter Jami! I’d enjoyed “Color Theory”, 2020’s sophomore effort from Nashville’s Soccer Mommy, effectively a band vehicle for talented newcomer Sophie Allison to sprinkle a flurry of hazy lazy Belly/ Blake Babies college pop/dreampop stardust over her self-exploring confessional lyrics, then deliver them in a pure, delicate voice recalling Madder Rose’s Mary Lorson. So her impending new album “Sometimes, Forever” was already on my shopping list before I heard about this in-store show. Tix were duly snapped up, then, not only for myself but also for Jami, who enjoyed the repeated car CD plays. So, another daddy/ daughter gig!

 Rach was off early for a sea swim event so I still had to do the grocery shop first, but I did that in double-quick time so Jami and I could leave just after 11 for a swift drive and annoying queue into Cabot Circus car park, then a soggy tramp through a drizzly Bristol. Hit the venue about 20 past 12, picking up our new album CDs then taking a spot near the front, house right, and admiring the plethora of guitars onstage – no other equipment, so this was definitely a Sophie solo show! She joined us at 1 p.m., greeting her quietly attentive audience with, “hi guys… what is it you say; are you alright?... Now I’ve warmed you up with my humour, I’ll play some songs” and easing into the Madder Rose-esque sombre slow-burn opener “With You” off the new album. In fact, after then making reference to her guitar line-up (“an arsenal of guitars for a 30 minute set! And they’re all in [the key of] “A”!”), she announced that the set would consist solely of new album tracks – her prerogative, sure, but as an audience member, it was also my prerogative to feel a little disappointed by that, as I was looking forward to at least a couple of “Color Theory” tracks (“Circle The Drain” and/or Jami’s favourite “Royal Screw Up” would have been nice). Oh well…

 

Anyway, “Bones”, next up, had more of a slightly countrified Lemonheads slacker vibe, and “Shotgun” was more immediate, with a hooker chorus juxtaposing its’ melancholy verse. Following that, Sophie (who was open and charming throughout) asked for early favourites from the new album, a couple of punters calling for “Darkness Forever”, much to her chagrin… apparently this one was “too dark” and featured a really loud scream that the producer coaxed out of her during recording. So that was out too! Instead, she reached for the best-looking guitar, a sky blue asymmetric model which drew gasps from the crowd and a comment of, “it’s not mine, it’s [Soccer Mommy guitarist] Julian’s!” “Don’t Ask Me”, which received the benefit of this instrument, was my favourite of the set, again giving off strong Dandoesque laid-back college pop vibes. We made our way to the back during final number, the understated melancholy of “Still” (which also featured a descending choral chord structure recalling Buffalo Tom’s classic “Taillights Fade”), so we could be early in the queue for CD signing, greeting Sophie for a few quick words, signed CDs and a photo before heading off, back home just before 4 via shopping and Slim Chickens lunch in Cabot Circus.

 So, overall, a pleasant and diverting way to spend a Sunday, but one not likely to threaten my “Best Of” gig list for the year… disappointed about the lack of familiar material in her set, but a couple of promising new numbers, especially “Don’t Ask Me” which I’m looking forward to hearing in full band form. But of course, the track I’m looking forward to hearing the most (forbidden fruit and all that..) is the dark and screaming “Darkness Forever”…!

1,234 THE STAYAWAKES, Supp. Everyone Lies, Stankfinger, Southampton The Hobbit, Friday 24th June 2022

 

Happy Birthday to me! And what better way to celebrate another trip around the sun than a gig, although not the initially intended one… Nope, this was actually scheduled to be a “Boys Weekend” down the South Coast with Logan, seeing 80’s art school punk/ New Romantic legend Adam Ant at Brighton Centre, then an overnight stop at a friend’s house and a shopping Saturday in Brighton, but unfortunately Adam tested positive for Covid so he postponed this one. Bah! Nonetheless, Plan B then came into operation in the shape of this, the first date in a triad of shows by recent Southsea powerpop favourites The Stayawakes, a triple-threat which, improbably, includes headlining next Saturday’s Cheese and Chilli festival at Lydiard Park in… Swindon! Yowsers! Still, not willing just to settle for that one, I was up for a birthday jaunt to the South Coast; on my own this time, Logan deciding to sit this one out (“The Stayawakes? Aren’t they playing in Swindon next weekend? Well… they’re playing in Swindon next weekend!”)

 Took Logan karting this afternoon for an impromptu replacement birthday event to celebrate his own 15^th, 2 days ago, then dropped him home just after 6, got changed then hammered down the inclement A34/M3 beat route to Soton, parking around the corner from this old school pub venue just after 7.30. Got “carded” on the way in for the first time in 30 years (a crime prevention thing, rather than being due to my youthful looks!) before heading downstairs, expecting to find a small subterranean room… wrong! The staircase took us past the venue room on the left (where The Stayawakes were soundchecking), then opened up into rock pub Narnia, with a tiered drinking balcony overlooking a wide open-air courtyard and wooden gazebo. Nice! Very “indie” as well, underlined both by the soundtrack (Bowling For Soup in particular on heavy rotation) and the clientele, one punter complimenting my new “birthday” green Tuk creeper sneakers, after I’d done likewise to his blue tartan trews! Met Dave, an old friend of The Stayawakes’ Jimmy who’d read my blog review of their recent Fareham gig (gig 1,224), and we compared notes before being joined by The Stayawakes for birthday drinkies and rock chat, the boys being happy to see me and not at all fazed about being “sloppy seconds” to Adam Ant (As bassist Jimmy noted, “we’re probably not the first [to be]!”).

 Before too long it rolled up to 8.30, so we funnelled into the small venue room (completely neglecting to pay the £2 cover. Whoops!) where the guys set up and donned the ubiquitous matching pink polka dot shirts. In a hurry to crack on through their packed set-list, Steven launched the set into life via the thunderous rolling drum opening of “Wendi”. Unfortunately, that was initially pretty much all I heard… Steven being such a hard hitter, and the room being so small and fairly sparely populated (probably about a dozen hardy punters venturing in) the mix was submerged by the drum sound for the opening couple of numbers, but thankfully, by the excellent, snaking “Please Steve Just Drive” it had settled to the point of the drums dominating rather than completely overpowering the mix. The Stayawakes, as ever, manfully powered through, taking this and other issues (Andrew breaking a string on his sole guitar and needing to borrow Everyone Lies vocalist’s instrument!) with good humour, Andrew remarking, “we’ve not played [The Hobbit] before… drunk here plenty of times…!” I powered through as well, rocking out from my stage front, house right spot as much as the now 57-year old knees allowed!

 

“Pink Wave” was superb, Peter’s undulating riffery finally rising above the dominant drums, then Andrew wished me a happy birthday (nice!) before the more sombre Pixies-ish march of “Stepping Over Cracks”. A racey, rocky “Cologne” was poignantly dedicated to a late former booker of the band, Peter unfortunately “twatting” Jimmy on the head with his guitar during the middle 8… The brooding, Hi-Fi like flippancy of “Back In 95” was probably my highlight tonight, the subsequent effervescent hooky brilliance of “Lovestruck” inevitably running it close. “It’s Cool, It’s Rad” concluded a set again initially beset with mix issues but again replete with The Stayawakes’ trademarks of verve, energy and upbeat enthusiasm. One day I’ll hear them play a venue with the sound pindrop-perfect from the off… now that’d be something…!

 I grabbed a balcony bench afterwards, the boys joining us after packing away, for more rock (and other stuff!) chat, drinks and rounds of superb home-cooked pizzas. Amongst other things, much comparing of rock’n’roll histories ensued, as I once again found much common ground with a splendid bunch of fellows who clearly relish being in a band together (Jimmy in particular eulogising about their shared musical bond). We ended up chatting over Stankfinger’s set, which veered between formulaic pop-punk and shouty noise (what little I remember of it, anyway!), but we all wandered back in to catch tonight’s headliners Everyone Lies. Openers at that Fareham gig, they again kicked off with some fast-paced Oi! Punk, but by now my knees were suffering from both the karting and rocking out to The Stayawakes, and, in danger of seizing up completely, I bade my farewells and headed off to the motor for a more circumspect drive back up to the ‘don, hitting home, somewhat wiped out, just after midnight. So, not the planned Antmusic gig and Brighton weekend, but Plan B still worked out splendidly, thanks to The Stayawakes!

1,233 SI AND MATT HALL, Julesbury, Swindon The Beehive, Thursday 16th June 2022

 

My gig companions of Sunday’s Gregor Barnett show (gig. 1,231) now become my hosts for this one! An infrequent “live” outing these days for Si and Matt Hall, the former driving forces behind my favourite Swindon band since XTC, the glorious blue-collar popcore/ alt-rock noise that was Raze*Rebuild. Si’s happily in a new relationship now, but also suffering from lactic acid build-up in his hands, affecting his guitar grip (old age, it doesn’t come alone…!). Nonetheless, he promised to tough it out for an intended full hour acoustic performance up at the Beehive, where I last saw the boys play on an emotionally fraught Swindon Shuffle final day (gig 1,190), after visiting my now happily fully recovered brother in ICU.

 Logan fancied it too, and after permission was sought and granted for his attendance in this pub venue (thanks Jase!), we drove over after his Thursday swim session, parking behind the cinema and wandering up the increasingly steep hill for 8.30, greeting Mr. Dust, loitering outside. Things were running late so we popped inside for a drink and to catch opening duet Julesbury, a female singer/ guitarist (presumably Jules!) and her partner, who turned out to be Logan’s old guitar teacher James! Their set was very hushed, introspective and traditionally folky, sounding almost baroque and medieval at times, as if they were playing madrigals and not songs! “Jack Daniels” (“a romance song, not an ode to Jack”! insisted Jules) and “Brave Man” (a darker, more reflective octave shredder dedicated to her dad) were notable numbers in a loop pedal-augmented, highly proficiently played if slightly overlong set. Okay, but not my stuff really.

 We grabbed refills and pork scratchings (!) and bagsied a couple of stools in front of the “stage” for the Hall brothers’ set. “Let me know if it’s too loud,” requested Si, “it’s not supposed to be endurance gigging!” Easing into their mammoth 15-song set with “Rhythm and Rhyme”, Si concentrated on the rhythm parts with his new guitar (“it looks like an electric but plays like an acoustic – it’s blowing my mind!” he commented later) and sensibly let Matt display his talents with his undulating, intricate riffery on his self-made instrument. Good thing too, as even by the second number “Face For Radio” (tongue-in-cheek dedicated to his brother!), Si was shaking his hand during and between numbers to alleviate his issues, continuing to do so throughout. Nonetheless, he and Matt soldiered on manfully; good on ‘em!

 

The slow burner “Kat I’m Sorry” saw Si, trying to keep restrained due to the intimate nature of the setting, nonetheless give full rein to his usual stentorian roar in the strident, Buffalo Tom-esque chorus; as he later said, you can take the boy out of the punk band, but…! A couple of more alt-countrified newies (including “Slow Burn”, a grungy ballad which could have walked off da Tom’s “Smitten” album) led into a cover; not an “incongruous” one, this time, but a totally apposite and well delivered reading of The Waterboys’ sweeping 80’s classic “Fisherman’s Blues”. A bit of “swirly” from Matt augmented the hushed atmospherics of “You’re The Chalk”, whilst a clutch of old amped-up sweat-inducing Raze favourites in “New Leaf” and “Troubled Minds” retained their trademark gallop, even in this acoustic setting, Si still working up a sweat for his art and commenting, “If we ever do merch it’ll be wellies!”

 Logan and I had my favourite “Back To The Fall” dedicated to us; then “Audiobook”, a rocky, racey hoedown dealing with the transition from extended punk rock adolescence into “middle rage” (as a number of Si’s songs do), rounded off a gem of a set from these 2 talented brothers. Compliments then a quick departure (it is a school night, after all!), following this infrequent but enjoyable showing. Nice one boys!

1,232 PEANESS, Try Me, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Tuesday 14th June 2022

 

A recommendation from Andrew of The Stayawakes, this one… I’d been vaguely aware of all-girl trio Peaness for some time, mainly by seeing their slightly punny name cropping up on bills such as Indietracks for awhile, and I have to say I’d mentally lumped them in with the likes of the poor Dream Wife as half-formed, ramshackle indie DIY merchants with nary a tune to rub together to make fire. My mistake. After Andrew’s recommendation, I checked out some YouTube vids (some stretching back 6 years or so – have they really been around that long?) and really liked what I heard; bright, buoyant tuneful indie pop and smooth girly harmonies, worthy of filing alongside The Beths or even current “live” faves Coach Party. Nice! Even better was that they were just about to release their debut album, “World Full Of Worry”, seemingly collecting together most of these older YouTube tracks in a one-stop shop collection. Result!

 Next stop a gig, then, and their current tour passed close by: I initially booked for Southampton due to clashing dates, but then poor Peaness drummer Rachel got Covid, then something called quinsy, requiring postponements and a short hospital stay. When the dates were rescheduled, I was able to get a refund on the Soton ticket and join Stuart and Nigel for the closer Bristol date. Result! Again… Thus it was that we 3, along with Nigel’s son Alex, zoomed down to Bristol for 7, grabbing a drink in the beer garden of The Lanes and enjoying some rock chat (and games of gig “snap” with Nigel!). Popped opposite to Rough Trade; my first actual gig here, rather than an “instore” performance and signing sesh (which I count as a gig anyway, because I hear music but hey, you know what I mean…), the only difference being the record store bit was partitioned off! Had a word with the merch stand-bound Rachel (hoping she’s over her quinsy, and showing her my arm tattoo – “Rachel” in Klingon! – to her amusement), then we grabbed a seat and tried our best to ignore the support Try Me; I’d briefly led the boys in to the venue to see them, but upon being subjected to some terrible baggy rap and, realising my error, immediately led them back out again!

 Back in this tiny black back room venue for Peaness’ arrival at 9.15; Nige and Alex hung back but Stu and I were down the front, house left, as the girls eased into their set with the lovely harmonies and hazy summery Marine Girls vibe of acoustic opener “Take A Trip”, before kicking it up 20 or so notches with the bouncy, buoyant “Kaizen”, with bassist and heavily tattooed main vocalist Jess, possessor of a voice as pure as a mountain lake, augmenting her vocals with whoops and yee-hahs. They clearly love it up there!

 After a fellow front row punter acted as shaker roadie for “How I’m Feeling”, guitarist Balla, a Wootton Bassett native, commented, “this is as near to a home town gig as I get!” and welcomed us Swindonians; Oxonian Jess retorted with, “there’s some rivalry between Swindon and Oxford’s football clubs,” to which some wag down the front (ok, me…) innocently inquired, “oh, do Oxford have a football team then?” Arf! The girls then proceeded to play the whole of their album start to finish, with the jaunty “irl” and a tougher, more strident “Doing Fine” mid-set highlights. In between, we had light-hearted between-song banter from this jovial, vivacious bunch, the girls introducing guest keyboardist “Nikki Noodles from the Netherlands!”, then Jess lamenting the drummer’s recent ailment with a clearly sympathetic, “Rachel got a pirate’s disease!”, Rachel retorting with, “Jess was with me when I got [my abscess] drained!”. Yuck!

 

The pounding tom toms and toytown guitar riff of “What’s The Use” was followed by Jess incredulously announcing, “we were in the Time Magazine Top 20 Albums of 2022 so far! Us and Harry Stiles!”. “Sad Song”, a slow burn Belly-esque college pop lullaby and the melancholy outlier of an otherwise upbeat and irresistibly perky set, rounded off the album run-through, the band eschewing the pantomime of going off stage before the encore in favour of turning their backs to us! Oldie “Oh George”, a harder-edged and soaring powerpop number which reminded me of The Popguns’ classic “Waiting For The Winter”, a short, snarky and snappy newie “Good For A Girl” and closer “Skin Surfing” (“for Jeff”, the ubiquitous Mr. Johns currently being in hospital after a domestic fire – get well soon, big fella!) rounded off a spritely and Summery set. Nice one! No lists (hey, they’re playing the album so they should know that!) and a big queue at the merch, so we headed off promptly, enduring annoying diversions due to M4 closures but chatting all the way home about the likes of Pale Saints, The Parachute Men, Close Lobsters and so on. A fun night out, then, soundtracked by the effervescent Summery sounds of Peaness. Good shout, Andrew!

1,231 GREGOR BARNETT, Lande Hekt, Perkie, Bristol Exchange, Sunday 12th June 2022

 

I’ve become quite the fan of The Menzingers over their last few albums, after they filled a Gaslight Anthem-shaped hole in my affections with their similar Springsteen-influenced stories of coming of age in small town America, set to expansive, driving and often deliciously hooky emo/pop-punk tinged US alt rock. Tonight promised something slightly different, however, as co-vocalist Gregor Barnett has only gone and made a “Country” album! Now, normally this would see me scuttling for the hills, particularly after being burned by recent poor offerings (and even worse gigs! Yup, that carcrash gig 1,074) from the afore-mentioned Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon… however Greg’s release, the somewhat ghoulishly titled “Don’t Go Throwing Roses In My Grave”, is definitely more dusty, parched and deliciously bleak alt- as opposed to mawkish Grand Old Opry trad-Country, with some wry, understated tuneage not a million miles from his usual work. Si and Matt were up for the gig as well, so I figured, why not?

 I nearly didn’t bother though; after last night’s late one, I found myself dozing off on the sofa barely half an hour before departure tonight, and giving thought to blowing it off and watching what was shaping up to be an exciting IndyCar race on TV. Rock’n’roll won out though, as ever, and Si and Matt, plus Si’s new lady Kathryn collected me just before 7. Met up with Si’s mates Phil and Ben at the venue, and had some good rock chat before venturing in for opener Perkie, who seemed to be externalising her internal monologue as to what key to play her hushed bedsit ballads in, rather than actually playing them. A couple of stop-starts might be charming, but multiple times before – and during – numbers is simply amateurish, so I got annoyed and went outside. Tour support Lande Hekt was better; frontperson of punky pop act The Muncie Girls, her gauche, often C86-tinged indie acoustica veered between endearingly wistful songs about damaged relationships (e.g. “Impending Dooming” and her best number, closer “8 Days Of Rain”) and quirkier subject matter (the bouncy “Gay Space Cadets” and a song about Jeremy Clarkson!), and the only issues she seemed to have in her performance was an “evil” ring picked up at a car boot sale! I quite enjoyed her set, but after Perkie, I was just kindly disposed to anyone who could finish a song coherently…

 Greg joined us just before 10; armed initally with a chunky acoustic but switching to a full-on electric for later numbers, the black clad desperado opened with the funereal death march of “Oh Lord, What Do You Know”, with imagery evoking the minutae of dusty truckstop America, stray dogs and pennies on railroad tracks and the like, and Greg giving them suitable atmospheric gravitas with his quavery, yearning vocal delivery. After the Decemberists-like harmonica blare of the album’s title track, Greg greeted the keen Bristol Sunday crowd with, “something uniquely English about the sound of a sticky club floor!” before realising The Menzingers’ Autumn tour doesn’t include Bristol, some wag down the front (OK, me…!) countering with, “you’re making us go to London!” By way of compensation, however, we then had a rousing singalong to a splendidly galloping “Anna”, one of my favourite Menzingers’ tracks. OK then!

 

The set concentrated on the solo album material, which in this “live” voice/guitar only environment largely took on a stripped-back, haunting Violent Femmes-esque dark Appalachian backwoods murder ballad quality, with titles to match; in fact when Greg told his parents he’d written a song called “Hurry Me Down To Hades”, they both wondered where they’d gone wrong with him! There were spots of light amongst the gloom, however, with “Driving Through The Night” the most Menzinger-esque of his new numbers, and “Talking To Your Tombstone” a racey upbeat swayalong at odds with its’ subject matter. Plus there were Menzingers numbers to delight the faithful; deep cut “My Friend Chris” was preceded by a story of their first, disastrous Bristol gig back in 2010, and a fine “Midwestern States” elicited another singalong. After scheduled set closer, “Guest In Your House”, Greg called for a couple of requests to fill up to the hour, the crowd voting for “Your Wild Years” (which saw me attempting to sing the hook in the correct accent; “a little Baah-ston in your attitude (!)”) and tonight’s highlight, the splendid finale of “Casey”.

 

I’d nudged forward for this one, so asked Greg for his list which he duly obliged; then a few minutes later I popped back for a brief chat and pic with a softly spoken but absolute gentleman, before we hit the road. So my 3 in 3 now in the books (now I can sleep!), and appetite duly whetted for a full-on Menzingers show at the Roundhouse in November, after a fine acoustic showing tonight from a very talented gent!

1,230 The “GOLDEN TOUCH FESTIVAL”, Portsmouth Wedgewood Rooms, Saturday 11th June 2022

 

My second of 3 in 3 days (that’s how gigs come, sometimes…) and another adventure down on the South Coast… when my back gave out on the morning after the Desperate Journalist gig back in February (gig 1,211), I had to cry off taking daughter Jami to see her favourite band Bears In Trees at Bristol Thekla on the following Monday. Luckily Mum stepped in at short notice and Jami loved it, so I promised to take her to the next opportunity to see BIT (as I will henceforth sporadically refer to them as) “live”. This, then, was it; a one day, 2 stage festival at Portsmouth’s Wedgewood Rooms, utilising the main space and the smaller “Edge Of The Wedge” room at the front, and mainly showcasing a number of local South Coast acts (although sadly not recent Portsmouth discoveries Fake Empire or The Stayawakes) but also being headlined by this young South London group of effervescent yet lyrically introspective, coming-of-age indie folksters.

 Feeling a bit limb-weary after last night’s Stuffies shenanigans, I wasn’t necessarily up for the whole day though, particularly as BIT weren’t due on until 10.30! A late one in prospect then, so we decided to set off after the Grand Prix qualifying on TV, hitting the road just before 5 for a swift drive down, finding a parking spot on the main road about 5 minutes’ walk from the venue and getting in about 6.45. Jami had brought a BIT fan art piece that she’d painted and was hoping to get it signed, so we took it in and I asked the merch lady whether that was possible. She texted their tour manager who, a few minutes later, came down and took it backstage, promising to return a hopefully signed copy “later”…

 

So, we popped into the main rooms and sussed things out. It was immediately apparent that the young BIT massive had already bagsied the barrier and were happy to sit it out for them, so we found the last remaining spare barrier spot, extreme house left, and resolved to do the same. So sorry to any band who played “The Edge Of The Wedge” stage, it wasn’t your night… ARCADE HEARTS were therefore our first band on at 7 after a technically beset soundcheck which, according to the impossibly handsome vocalist, was, “like asking your nan to do the splits!” Their first few numbers had a smooth, very 80’s synth-pop sheen to them, more Duran Duran than Heaven 17 for me though, so I instead tried to check in to this event on Facebook. Getting no signal, I asked Jami to save our spot and decided to take a wander outside; good thing that I did, as on my way out into the foyer, I followed a young tousle-haired lad carrying what suspiciously looked like Jami’s fan art. It turned out that it was, and said lad was BIT guitarist Nick, accompanied by keyboardist Callum, so I told them to stay put in the foyer, then grabbed an incredulous Jami to meet them! Lots of gasps, hugs, photos and thanks ensued, and immediately my daughter’s day/week/month was made.

 After a short while we bade farewell to the lads, bought some merch, and took our precious cargo back to the car, back in in time for the last knockings of Arcade Hearts’ set, which continued to mine that 80’s synth seam, closer “Why You” getting the front rows (and Jami) bouncing along. So at their conclusion, we followed our strategy and stayed put, ignoring the next band on in the “Edge”, chatting instead to fellow barrier surfer Ben, who like me was playing “World’s Best Dad” tonight, having brought his daughter (hi Maisey!) from Bournemouth for her first BIT gig. THE ROYSTON CLUB were next up at 8, their initial upbeat attack drawing comparisons to The Housemartins and The Smiths (that “Charming Man” beat!), with other numbers channelling The Vaccines and Arctic Monkeys, particularly in the brash vocalists’ overt vocal delivery. The twin vocal attack of an amped up “Tangled Up In You” and their best number closer “Way Out Of My League” were highlights of a derivative but upbeat and confidently delivered set.

 

ZUZU, on at 9, were however much more the ticket… led by a slight brunette (apparently Zuzu herself!) who reminded me of a younger, wide-eyed PJ Harvey (and reminded Jami of her English teacher!) and who had a Carragher-level pronounced Scouse accent which bled noticeably into her husky vocals, they impressed from the get-go with some well-constructed low, moody numbers which then blossomed into strident brain-hugging and powerfully delivered hooky choruses. Shades of the quiet-loud dynamics of Pixies, the powerful and determined, blues-tinged delivery of her lookalike Polly, and even the rockier pseudo-FM radio dynamics of mid 80’s Pretenders, but overall a unique and highly promising voice, with an early, “Skin And Bone” a plaintive wallow, “My Old Life” (about “going all Emo, heading down to the Mersey to think”) an old-school lighters-aloft stadium swayalong and “Lie To Myself” a sinuous and lyrically savage exorcism of a bad relationship. Penultimate number “All Good” was my highlight, coming in all Nancy Sinatra 60’s swagger before plunging into a grungy sleazoid death march resembling Scarce’s classic “All Sideways”, and the stately, almost Bunnymen-esque building ballad “Queensway Tunnel” closed out an unexpected delight of a set. Apparently Zuzu was buzzing (pronounced, “booozzin’!”) to play this Festival (“I’ve heard it’s boss!”); if so, she took the opportunity with gusto, and delivered big time!

 

More entertaining rock chat with Ben (finding considerable musical common ground, including The Wonder Stuff, Carter USM and even Midway Still!) and a quick chat with Zuzu herself and a pic with Jami; then J abandoned me to make friends with the non-binary BIT posse down the front. Great, I’m fine with that! BEARS IN TREES themselves took the stage promptly at 10.30, opening with their jaunty yet tough sounding ode to sloth, “Great Heights”, and I was immediately struck by two things – firstly, they were immediately way more powerful and dynamic “live” than on record, with a bouncy, kinetic stage presence, like a quartet of colourful powerballs shaken up in a glass jar (!), and secondly, their upbeat vocal-swapping antics reminded me strongly of Durham’s excellent (and equally non-binary-friendly) Martha, a comparison which I’d not made at all before but which right now was slapping me hard in the face. The laid-back and laconic, Philistines Jr.-esque backbeat of “Cut Corners” was next up – Jami was going batshit crazy down the front with her new friends, and I was enjoying them much more than I’d expected!

 A quick pause for a “Nick needs to tie his shoelace” break (amusingly soundtracked by Callum on the keys); then the insanely jolly “Heaven Sent Is A Coffee Cup” saw Callum take to the photographer’s pit to rabble rouse the front rows, followed by the band rampaging through an almost Ramones-like oldie “Cobwebs”. The old school indie jangle of “Ibuprofen” was preceded by a chat from (probably) main vocalist Ian about, “the friends in your life who make you feel you’re worth something,” underlining another notable feature of this band, namely their connection with their young audience; they care deeply for their fans, and their song lyrics often reflect the pains and tribulations of growing up and transitioning into young adulthood, very relatable for their young massive. This point was again emphasised by the widescreen chorus of newie “Precipitation”, probably my set highlight tonight (and not just due to the entertaining overuse of the word “petrichor”!).

 

A melancholy, Dashboard Confessional-esque “I’m Doing Push Ups” again saw Ian deliver a pre-song motivational message (“you’re all much more than the bad things in your life”) before they thanked the Festival, “for having this dirtbag boy band from South London!” and closed a 45 minute set with the call-and-response “Fresh Concrete”. Jami had stayed put down the front throughout and clearly loved it, and so did I, Bears In Trees having won me over tonight with a dynamic performance. Well done guys!

 

And well done too to Ian and Callum for popping out afterwards; I sent Ian over to gatecrash a photo of Jami and her front-row friends, before more chat and fond farewells. So we finally hit the road for a convoluted and circuitous exit out of Portsmouth (including having to stop at Every! Single! Fucking! Red! Light! Bollocks!) and a swift but diversion-affected blast home, arriving at a red-eyed 1.15. Yikes! Nonetheless, a promise well delivered on, and another fine South Coast adventure; I’m glad I was able to get Jami to meet her favourite band. That’s how we gig!

1,229 THE WONDER STUFF, My Life Story, Bristol O2 Academy, Friday 10th June 2022

 

I never loved Elvis, but I’m loving The Wonder Stuff “live” these days! My 19^th time of asking but 7^th in the last 6 years for enduring 80’s/90’s indie/ slightly-delic troubadours The Wonder Stuff; the last time out being the joint 30^th (ish) anniversary celebration of their first 2 albums “The Eight Legged Groove Machine” and “Hup”, back in December 2019 (gig 1,169). So it seemed only fitting that their 3^rd album “Never Loved Elvis”, arguably their biggest commercial album success and furnishing them with their biggest “hit” in their own right in the ubiquitous “Size Of A Cow”, should get the same treatment, albeit Covid-delayed and also one year late… I confess I wasn’t a huge fan of this one at the time, my then shoegazey/US alt-rock dominated tastes finding it a bit too, erm, fiddly diddly... However, on reflection (and repeated recent listens in the car) I now realise my error; it’s a classic, replete with brain hugging hooks aplenty and old school indie bangers whichever way you face. Should be a good one, this, then, particularly as said repeated “Elvis” plays seem to have circumnavigated the Stuffies “block” which Logan had, enough for him to join us!

 Old Level 3 friend and Stuffies fan Robynne and daughter Tia joined us for this one too, The Big Man taking up a short-notice ticket as Rachel cried off ill. A stupidly early doors (6 p.m.!) required an early and slightly convoluted pickup, leaving the house at 20 past 4 and parking up just after 6 after horrible traffic into Bristol itself. Thanks to the O2 Priority entrance and the early door time catching out a lot of punters, Logan and I still got a barrier spot, house right. Yay! Rich and the girls joined us briefly but headed for the bar when My Life Story frontman Jake Shillingford came on at a ridiculously early 6.25 (“the news is still on!” quipped Jake in reference to his early start), Rich not expecting great things from this set. Me neither actually, but I’m happy to admit my error, as Jake was both an entertaining raconteur (stories of MLS inheriting their name from an Ian McNabb onstage quote, Jake’s sideline career writing incidental music for “Masterchef”(!), and hanging out with The Stuffies at the old Dingwalls “Power Station” and Phoenix 1994 filling the between-song gaps nicely) and a player of fine, expansive kitchen-sink drama stripped-back Britpop, with a Suede-like “Archipelago” and the stately Britpop ballad of “Sparkle” my highlights.

 Nary time for a couple of quick comfort breaks for us, before The Stuffies took the stage at 7.15. Yes, 7.15! No game show host antics from frontman Miles Hunt this time; nope, they were straight into the building intro to “Never Loved Elvis” opener “Mission Drive”, violinist Erica subsequently sawing away at the dominant riff, then segueing into a dramatic undulating “Play”, at the end of which Miles welcomed the rapt audience with a, “how the fuck are ya! We’ve been waiting some time to do this!”

 The Stuffies tonight played like a band determined to make up for the Covid-induced lost time, the forced break happily having not a jot of impact upon the quality of their performance. “On it” from the outset, with swish and style, ploughing through this classic album with dramatic and determined intent, with Miles the consummate ruffian frontman, expansive and open, thankfully now well removed from the abrasive, cocksure frontman of yore but still retaining a proud unabashed swagger. “Welcome To The Cheap Seats”, Logan’s favourite, saw him and pretty much everyone else raising the roof to this one, but eliciting a comment from Miles of, “ridiculous! 31 years and you still haven’t figured out how to dance to that one!” “Size Of A Cow” faced no such problems, however, and I found myself forming a strong-armed barrier around Logan to fend off a sudden but good-natured moshpit. “NLE” whipped by in a flash, the oscillating crescendos of my highlight “Here Comes Everyone” requiring and receiving a virtuoso violin performance from Erica, and the subsequent “Caught In My Shadow” (“about my home town – it’s nice, I don’t know why I was so pissed off about it [when I wrote this]!” admitted Miles) almost matching it in its’ nostalgic melancholy. A noisy, jagged and slightly haphazard “38 Line Poem” rounded off a nonetheless superb first set, the band then taking a deserved 15 minute break (“off for a massage!” deadpanned Miles).

 Back on in short order though, the frontman delivering pantomime stretches before embarking on, “this mammoth Springsteen-esque set!”. No exaggeration either; after the 13 numbers of the“NLE” set 1, the Stuffies delivered a further 16 in set 2! No arguments about Milo and Co. giving you bang for your buck, then… a superb “Red Berry Joy Town” and the dynamic build of my perennial favourite “On The Ropes” launched the set brilliantly, Miles then stating, “don’t think you’re getting out of here without hearing some of our recent stuff!”, some wag down the front (ok, me…) responding, “Feet To The Flames!” and immediately getting that request granted with a coruscating version of this, their best post-reunion number. The mid-set jaunty hoedown of “Golden Green” and “that horsey song!” “Ruby Horse” segued into a powerful “Wish Away”, before a touching, delicate and emotionally charged “Piece Of Sky” was dedicated to lost Stuffies Rob “Bass Thing” Jones and Martin Gilkes, Miles then skewering the mood with a post-song comment of. “The Bass Thing would call me a fucking sap for doing that, he’d want some Napalm Death instead!” Despite an earlier comment of feeling, “every one of those 30 years tonight!” Miles, energetic throughout, then led his charges through a superb end-of-set salvo of a breathless, galloping “Don’t Let me Down Gently” and a pounding, thunderous and lengthy “Ten Trenches Deep”, before encores featuring “Unbearable” and closer “Good Night Though” rounded off a stellar 2 ½ hours, Miles fulsomely complimenting the enthusiastic Bristol crowd before he and the band peeled off one by one.

 

That wasn’t it though; we were ushered out quickly (club night, you see…) but hung out by backstage, catching our breath and hopefully waiting for some face time with the man. Thankfully patience was rewarded after Miles dumped his stuff in the tour van, with a nice pic with Logan and a chat about the excellent Nada Surf (I wore the right t-shirt tonight!) and Shiiine On (Miles loves playing there – so Shiiine On, get them back there soon!), before we hit the road, zooming back and dropping our companions off before Logan and I grabbed midnight kebabs, to top off a stellar evening. The Wonder Stuff doing total justice to another of their classic albums tonight; simply wonderful!