Friday, 23 June 2023

1,284 THE MENZINGERS, Hot Mass, Bristol Thekla, Tuesday 20th June 2023

 

Yup, that’s The Menzingers on “The Dirty Boat” in the middle of a heatwave; this one could get seriously sweaty…

 Scranton, PA’s finest purveyors of heartfelt heartland US emo-tinged blue collar alternative rock are gaining an increasing profile of late on both my gig “Dance Card” and listening habits, almost – almost! – coming close to supplanting the likes of The Hold Steady and even Jimmy Eat World in my affections in that regard. A devastating punk rock performance last time out at the cavernous Roundhouse (October 2022, gig 1,247) in front of their biggest ever crowd (2,601 on the night, apparently!) blasted them into my favourite gig list last year, and ensured I’d be up for more. However, I wasn’t expecting this one, a hastily-arranged gig at the relatively minuscule Thekla (400 at a squeeze!) to coincide with a couple of UK Festival performances. I jumped on this the second the tix went on sale; good thing too, as an hour later they were gone!

 So, anticipating a hot and busy one, I donned shorts and lenses and hit the road early doors, picking up Pete “Monkey” on the way. He wasn’t joining me at the Thekla, however, having an appointment with hardcore band Zeke at the Exchange, so I dropped him off on the way and parked up, running into old Level 3 face Mark Carter and his lady friend in the queue! Grabbed a stage front spot, house left, on entry and chatted to Tim, a fellow blogger and photographer for the night. Openers, Swansea’s Hot Mass, were on prompt at 7.30; they sported a guitarist who was the spitting image of my mate Rich May, and kicked up an urgent, dynamic and shouty form of post-emo punk rock, with slight inflections of old school 70’s punk (a Ruts descending bassline here, a Ramones surf power chord riff there). A little unfocussed and one-dimensional for my tastes, with not much in the way of tuneage to hang a hat on, but I admired the energy and conviction.

 


The place got seriously busy thereafter and I was already working up a sweat just standing there! Prompt at 8.30, Dire Straits’ cheese-fest “Walk Of Life” chugged out of the speakers and The Menzingers took the stage, plugging in ready to launch… then vocalist/ guitarist Tom May managed to break a string on the first note! Much hilarity and comments about “ghost ships” haunting the band ensued, before their hasty re-do launched them into an incendiary version of “I Don’t Wanna Be An Asshole Anymore”, the crowd already responding in kind to the band’s obvious enthusiasm and sheer joy of playing. The clarion call to arms of “Burn After Reading” followed in short order, the place went nuts, and it was already evident that this would be one of those very special all-inclusive nights, where band and audience come together so closely you can’t see the join, and revel in the pure energy and redemptive power of unadulterated rock and roll.

 So it proved. “Bristol! It’s been awhile since we’ve played on a boat… and the first time in the hold!” announced the livewire Tom to the baying masses, before the coming of age paean “Telling Lies” switched pace from raucous joy to introspective melancholy. “Midwestern States”, one of my favourites, was sweeping and anthemic, the subsequent “The Obituaries” was a raw, ragged rabble-rousing singalong to the punkish “I will fuck this up” hook to complete a brilliant mid-set double whammy, and a later “Lookers” was yearning and dynamic in equal measure (“a goddamn blast!” according to Tom. But really, every number was a stone cold moshpit catnip gem tonight, delivered with carefree and gleeful abandon by a band loving it in such close quarters and giving it their all. So much so, in fact, that not only was I on my way to an utter drenching from my own sweat, but the stage was likewise in danger of flooding, the roadies working furiously between songs to mop up the perspiration to avoid any slippages.

 


The breathless “After The Party” concluded an utterly incendiary set, the band returning after a thorough stage mopping for oldie “Casey” and a hurtling newie “Irish” to finish, vocalist/ guitarist Greg Barnett thrusting his pick into my hand as he left the stage. And that wasn’t it; I seriously needed to catch my breath and also wait until Pete’s gig was done, so I hung out awhile, patience ultimately being rewarded with chats, pics and setlist signatures from the band. Tom in particular was a diamond; not only as buoyant and effusive in person as onstage, but he also ultimately boarded their coach to get Greg’s signature for my list, waking the man up in the process! Chap! Eventually tore myself away, collected The Monkey and drove home for midnight and a vigorous towelling down before bed. I was right, this was seriously sweaty, and also seriously superb. The distilled essence of a proper rock’n’roll gig, delivered in fantastic style by The Menzingers!

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