For
the 8th time in a row, November means “Shiiine On”! However, and
even more so than last year, this was one I really wasn’t that keen on
beforehand. Definitely more of an impending “Shiiite On” than a “Great Eight”,
this, thanks to the weakest and most unimaginative bill in the festival’s
history by some considerable distance; plodding dullards and indie landfill
aplenty, and the very real prospect of absolutely nothing to do, musically at
least, after mid-afternoon on Sunday thanks to utter crushing bores Starsailor
and Embrace “headlining” the main stage. This left me, prior to the weekend at
least, putting my faith in Saturday headliners Echo And The Bunnymen to
deliver, which these days, even from my mid-teens “home team”, is a dangerous
prospect. And further salt was rubbed into the wound with the announcement of a
10th Anniversary special in Skegness in March, featuring highlights
from the first 10 years and including such luminaries as The Wonder Stuff, Ash,
Peter Hook, Boo Radleys, Glasvegas and more, thereby making our weekend’s
entertainment look even more anaemic by comparison. Bah!
Oh
yeah, also about Sunday; a scheduling mess-up (and IMHO a real opportunity lost
by the organisers… more on that later) meant our usual Old Ship Aground
lunchtime carvery, one of the highlights of the weekend, had to be cancelled at
short notice. Bah! Again…
Last
month’s awful news of my dear lady wife’s lung cancer diagnosis furthermore
threatened to scupper the whole weekend for us; however, Rach responded very
well to the first few days of her immunotherapy tablets, so we decided to go
for it anyway, organising a last-minute change to a ground floor apartment and
disabled platform access, and anticipating plenty of rest breaks back at the apartment.
Suddenly, the prospect of a poor musical bill didn’t seem so terrible; at least
Rach might have plenty of company! So, at least looking forward to a nice weekend
away with Rach and good friends, we hit the road just after 10, encountering a
bit of queueing traffic on the outskirts of the ‘head so meeting up with Matt
on the seafront for the traditional fish’n’chips lunch slightly later than
planned… although not as late as the Truro contingent, who had to turn back to
get meds 2 hours into their journey! Sarah turned up with her friend Rich in
tow, and her 2 chalet-mates Duncan and Rick arrived, so we all booked in,
sorted wristbands in short order and settled in, before popping out to the Inn
On The Green for mid-afternoon. ELECTRIC SHEEP INC. were on in front of a
respectable early crowd, a young lot peddling fairly generic baggy-influenced
stuff, so Matt and I wandered into the sparsely populated Skyline Arena for the
last knockings of EASY. A band whose name I remember from those 90’s baggy days
but whom I largely blanked on, they gave me no reason to regret that with some
(again) unobtrusive generic baggy Britpoppy noise.
Popped
back to the Inn, then to the benches outside for socialising. Caught up with
the Abstraction Engine boys, here as punters only this year; shame! Martin and
Simon arrived after their medical double-back, so we met our new Shiiiner; an
amiable, softly spoken chap with a dry wit which emerged and entertained us
throughout the weekend, so another welcome addition to our coterie. Glad you
could join us, Simon! We all wandered in for JIM BOB at 5 to 6 in the Skyline,
running into erstwhile 2000 Trees buddy Mal in the process! Jim, my former
Jamie Wednesday correspondent and of course long-time Carter USM main man,
tried something different this year, taking the stage with a Ramones “Gabba
Gabba Hey” placard and delivering a set of Carter classics via the medium of
voice and piano only. Quite a polarising idea, this, not least with the man
himself (Jim commenting at one point, “this is a weird idea! What was I
thinking of, just me and a piano on this enormous stage!”); when it worked, it
gave a slightly different slant to the material (“Is Wrestling Fixed” taking on
a jaunty Vaudevillian air, and the old JDub number “Prince In A Pauper’s Grave”
inheriting a heavy, menacing feel slightly removed from its normal sea shanty
march), but other tracks felt shorn of their required dynamism. Jim himself
paced the stage like a latter-day Mark E Smith, firing off pithy comments in
line with his sardonic lyricism (e.g. “I wanted to put on my backdrop, “Fuck
Pontins”!”), and bigging up his book talk with “Steve Lurpack” and his old
Carter mate Fruit Bat’s Abdoujaparov set, both tomorrow, but overall this was a
curious and slightly understated set.
We
took a break for tea, leaping into the pasty shop as it opened at 7, and
partaking of its scalding wares (although not as lava-hot as feared) before
Rach and I took advantage of the disabled platform, house left, for REVEREND
AND THE MAKERS’ early evening slot to an already packed house. Hefty
rabble-rousing main-man Jon McClure took the stage, promising us, “Friday night
music! Good time music!” but a couple of poor and dated-sounding baggy dance
numbers later, I feared that the reason the Salford Village Idiot Shaun Ryder
wasn’t on this year’s bill was because he’d sent his understudy instead…!
Happily, the set improved notably, an early “Heatwave” a schmaltzy but tuneful
70’s funk track, and a bouncier “Bandits” fairly decent actually, and I warmed
to McClure, who clearly cared about his massive, with constant exhortations to
look out for each other’s mental health. Overall, though, this strange
melting-pot of slower funky and upbeat bouncy, almost ska stuff didn’t do a
great deal for me, despite McClure’s tongue-in-cheek boasts that, “I’m a big
deal in Sheffield – Bono level, me…!”, but the brass blare of the “Marmite” ad
song, “Silence Is Talking”, got the whole arena bouncing, so it seemed I was in
the minority there…
We
were however back in our usual house right spot by the pillar for headliners
KULA SHAKER. Again, I’d largely blanked on them in their early 90’s pomp,
finding the bits I’d heard a little dull, and thinking main man (and nepo baby
before there was an actual term for it) Crispian Mills a bit of an Indian
culture appropriating, pretentious pillock. From the off however, he set out to
prove me wrong; “Hey Dude” was a potent psych pop opener with a very 60’s
Byrds/ Love US West Coast feel, setting the tone for the set, and an early
“Gaslighting” was a herky-jerky rhythmic Kinks-esque pop choon with a stream of
consciousness vocal from the annoyingly slim and youthful Mills, who was a
relaxed and engaging performer throughout. “It’s Friday night, it’s a full
moon, we’re going to do a spiritual detox,” Mills announced before the rocking
upbeat psych-blues of “Naryana”. I didn’t enjoy the Mondays’ “Hallelujah”
reference during an otherwise okay actually “Tattva”, but they redeemed
themselves afterwards with the powerful descending riffery of a big harmonic
singalong “Hush”. “It’s been a great pleasure to play for you – I hope we don’t
fuck this up…” announced Mills before closer, an unexpected and jolly
run-through of John Lennon’s “Instant Karma”, rounding off a very pleasant
surprise of a set, from (dare I say it) worthy Day 1 arena headliners!
Rach,
sensibly pacing herself, decided that was it for the day, so Matt and I popped
up to the already-rammed Centre Stage for ECKO. A pet “Shiiine On” band, this
lot (along with Deja Vega), they were sonically okay in an early 90’s psych
rock/ baggy trance dance vibe, but I didn’t appreciate the Scottish vocalist’s
put-on fake Mancunian sneer, or the fact they went massively over time, not
clearing off until 10 past 11. So tribute act TRUE ORDER, due on at 11, didn’t
make an appearance until 11.30… Having seen Hooky recently, I was in a New
Order frame of mind, but this lot were terrible; I didn’t even recognise opener
“True Faith” until the vocalist started singing it, badly too, I might add… By the
3rd number, an equally savage massacring of “Perfect Kiss” sung
totally out of key (I know NO’s Barney isn’t the best vocalist in the world,
but he’s like Scott Walker compared to this guy), we’d had enough.
Over
to Reds for SACK, then, joining Martin and Simon in the seats house right. I
initially found them pretty decent in an early Inspirals/ Divine Comedy jangly
groovy singalong kind of way, and was encouraged that at least they could play
and sing (some decent 3 point harmonies particularly appealing to me); however
they were ultimately let down by their material for me, which seemed clumsy and
very average, one number featuring a piano part which sounded as if a cat was
wandering up and down on the keys! A shame really, but at least they got me to
the final act tonight…
On
the barriers then for the 12.45 emergence of MODERN ENGLISH, early 80’s
pioneering proto-goth/ shoegaze post-punkers. I wasn’t a massive fan at the
time, more in thrall to my Liverpool post-punk sound, but I remember enjoying
what I’d heard back then (usually played to me by old buddy Paul Crowfoot), and
also, during my more recent mid-2010’s voyage of post-punk rediscovery, enjoying
delving into them (and the likes of The Sound and particularly The Chameleons)
a little further via their “Life In The Gladhouse” collection. This veteran
band took the stage to a “standby for danger!” tape loop, opening with the
taut, urgent off kilter hurtle of “16 Days”, dapper vocalist Robbie Grey
yelping off-mic like an Adam Ant or Robert Smith. This pretty much set the tone
for a tense, menacing and deliciously brooding set of textural guitar-driven atmospheric
post-punk, with more than a few nods to early (so, good) Cure for me. “Gathering
Dust” was a building and careering thrill ride, and even the new material, such
as “Long In The Tooth” from 2024’s “1 2 3 4” release, stood pat with the
oldies, albeit slightly more conventional and harder edged. “Tables Turned” was
a synth and bass-propelled chugger, featuring some almost virtuoso low-end
manipulation from Michael Conroy, however the set was climbing inexorably up to
the summit…
The
sturdy and unmistakeable strum along opening to post-punk classic “I Melt With
You” was stupendous, plunging into a taut and utterly joyous hooky chorus, a
stripped-back atmospheric break and a wonderfully extended and speeded up
outro, ending both the Best Song and, ultimately, the Best Set of the Weekend
on a none-more-higher note. Tremendous stuff – and more so because I’d been
bouncing in my barrier spot alongside Irish post-punk songstress, recent
facebook friend and potential musical highlight for tomorrow, Keeley Moss! A
quick chat then, before I headed off to conclude Day 1!
Day
2 dawned slowly and lazily, before we gathered for the usual Saturday “Big Man
Big Breakfast” – serving 7 this time, as Sarah and friend Rich joined us later.
A slight deviation from the norm thereafter; as Rach had just started her meds
and wasn’t up to the usual pool party, we headed to Studio 36 to catch the last
knockings of Jim Bob’s chat on his new book “Where Songs Come From”, catching
the end of a witty and laconic – and very well attended, over 1,000 in! –
discussion. Matt and I bought a book and got them signed by the man; then we grabbed a table for the 90’s quiz, compered by former Shed
Seven drummer Alan Leach, with Matt, Rach and myself being joined by Sarah and
Rich plus a couple of Sarah’s friends in “TheFookinButlins” team, which (once
the quiz got going after a few technical hitches) finished a creditable 23rd
out of over 100 teams – but nowhere near top in the Best Team Name stakes,
which was clearly won by “Your Dad Wanks On All Fours”!
A
3 way band clash split us up thereafter; whilst various folks headed off to see
Bentley Rhythm Ace or Kingmaker 4AD, I plonked myself front and centre on the
Inn On The Green barrier for KEELEY, eponymous musical vehicle for my fellow
Modern English dancer Keeley Moss. And, to return the favour, all of Modern
English had turned up to see Keeley, so I grabbed a quick chat and pix with a
couple of the boys, discovering bassist Michael Conroy had played on the 80’s
proto-dreampop classic This Mortal Coil album, so appreciated me rocking a TMC
tee-shirt today! Anyway, Keeley and her backing band kicked off promptly at 2;
opener “Last Words” was a buoyant and jangly indie-pop opener, and “Inga
Hauser”, second number up, featured a dark, melancholy choral hook delivered
with conviction by Keeley, and accentuating the gravitas of the subject matter…
Oh
yes, about that subject matter; “Inga Hauser”, like ALL of Keeley’s songs,
without exception, are written for and about the eponymous Ms. Hauser, a
teenage German student shockingly murdered whilst backpacking in Northern
Ireland in 1988, a case which has never been solved. This understandably imbues
Keeley’s material – even the more upbeat jangle-alongs – with a heavy pall of
melancholy, a bleak and poignant atmosphere which conversely makes the material
(for me at least) more intriguing and captivating. Add to that Keeley’s own
deep and mahogany-rich low tones and insouciant onstage persona, and you’ve got
a potential-loaded new post-punk/ dreampop find. “Arrive Alive” was a racier
wall-of-sound shoegaze rocker recalling early Ride and my set highlight, and
the absorbing metronome of “Trans Europe 18” rounded off a fascinating and
evocative (if short at 6 songs only) set.
I
hung around afterwards and grabbed a chat and pics with Keeley and the band,
then wandered off to Reds, bumping into lurking Wonder Stuff main man Miles
Hunt on the way for a brief chat about my recent Barcelona trip to see his
erstwhile 90’s support act the Gigolo Aunts (gig 1,348). Gave YOUNG KNIVES
another go; they’d raised my pretentiousness hackles the last time I’d seen
them, and after a couple of messy prog numbers (one of which sounded as if it
was being played out of time!) and a clear feedback attempt to find the brown
note (!), I was gone, their repetitive cries of “Barbarism! Barbarism!” ringing
in my ears. Back to the chalet for a mid-afternoon chill for an hour or so,
eventually being joined by Rach for a while before we wandered back into the
Skyline Arena for the last number of THE FARM’s popular set, predictably an
inclusive and roof-raising singalong to unofficial “Shiiine On” anthem “All
Together Now”.
However,
t’was back up onto the Disabled Platform for Rach and myself, for the second act
in the Scouse Saturday triumvirate, namely THE LIGHTNING SEEDS, on at 7.20. The
only previous time I’d seen Liverpool post-punk veteran Ian Broudie’s band of
wide-eyed popsters was their frustratingly tech gremlin-beset “Shiiine On” 2019
performance (gig 1,161), so I was at least hoping the sound would be kinder
this time. It was – and how! Opener “Marvellous” sounded great, clear as a
bell, the hook singalong, buoyant and Summery, setting the tone for a shiny,
happy and perfectly delivered set of ebullient pure pop. “Ready Or Not” was a
slightly harder-edged outlier to all the magic pop thrills, featuring a
descending choral hook and a false finish; the Beatles-esque orchestral swell
of “Perfect” saw Broudie manfully raise an octave to the higher choral vocal line;
and a robust “Lucky You” saw Broudie challenge the crowd (“you’re a bit restrained…!”),
prompting an “ooh ooh” singalong which elicited a fists-aloft response from the
singer.
A
tune-packed, redemptive and timely performance culminated in a touching and
rather lovely “Pure”, still their best number, and the “God Only Knows”
soundalike intro (only just noticed that today!) to a cheesy but singalong
“Three Lions”, Broudie happily leaving the stage with a broad grin and the
audience’s cheers ringing in his ears this time, rather than a tech
glitch-induced scowl. Nice one, lad!
I
was then back onto the floor for tonight’s headliners, greeting my crew then
leaving them to it as I ventured nearer the front! Had a chat with Keeley
again, as the anticipation grew (or was it just me?), and dry ice predictably
swathed the stage in advance of the entrance of ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN. A band
I’ve loved for over 40 years and hosts of my second ever gig, back in December
1981, but a band whom these days stand or fall “live” on the whims and mood
swings of main man and “voice” Ian McCulloch. Mac’s longtime oppo Will
Sargent’s virtuoso guitar may shimmer, swoop and weep, the young band may ably
back them up musically, but if Mac’s head’s not in the game (or if his nose has
been in the drinks cabinet, or worse, in the powder beforehand), this could be
a car crash…
Overall,
I was pleased to report that it was, well, okay… Opener “Going Up” crept
absorbingly in with its’ air of menace and mystery, then Mac’s vocal was
stripped bare for all to hear; low, moody, understated, a little throaty and
raspy, but definitely Mac. The backbeat drums of “All That Jazz” followed, Mac
delivering a clipped verse vocal before Will’s strafing riffery bounced off the
tent ceiling, and an early “Rescue” was relaxed, plangent and singalong.
However, there had clearly been some, erm, “imbibing” beforehand on Mac’s part,
although at least he was a happy drunk tonight, rambling on about Al Pacino’s
new baby, Arne Slot and VAR, and bigging his material up as expected,
introducing a tremendous, careering “Over The Wall” with, “this one is a bit
mad, sort of neo-psychedelic,”, commenting, “I’m not going to boast but this
feels great,” prior to the Doors-like keyboard-fuelled, loose-limbed “Bedbugs
And Ballyhoo”, and proclaiming, “this next one is brilliant,” before “The
Cutter”. Because, well, it was. So.
Not
without its faults, this, though; the band were constantly enveloped in dry ice
and the side-screens were off, so they were often impossible to make out
through the murk, the set selection was again one for the purists rather than
the casual fan (generally fine for me, but fine for Shiiine? Debateable…) and
even despite pacing his voice and making infrequent use of the higher octaves,
Mac’s vocals became increasingly ragged towards the end, the singer making
increasing use of the tactic of muting the band to allow the devoted down the
front to fill in on vocals, a rather divisive move which earned a fair bit of
criticism from my crew afterwards. I guess I was just pleased that I wasn’t
disappointed, which I appreciate may be damning Mac and The Bunnymen with faint
praise, but these days, you never know…
A
stripped back “Killing Moon” rounded off the “set”, after which the band took a
pause before returning for “Lips Like Sugar”, which finally saw Mac’s voice
soar during the choral hook. Caught up with the crew via the mixing desk, the
excellent arena sound-guy making good on his promise beforehand to save me a
list, then we headed back to the chalet for a cuppa! Rach then decided that was
her limit for the day, so it was Matt, Martin, Simon and myself who headed back
in, for a Saturday night revelation…
I’d
seen David Lewis Gedge’s frantic jangly C86 survivors THE WEDDING PRESENT a few
times in the last 10 years or so, once on a Wonder Stuff undercard in 2016 (gig
981) and then at “Shiiine On” in 2017 and 2019, and, the opening salvo of that
2017 set aside, had been mostly disappointed, finding the choppy guitar
onslaught of legend largely absent, and both material and performance
understated, turgid, samey, dated and really rather dull. So I was semi
persuaded, semi press-ganged by the boys to give the Weddoes another chance,
but honestly I was expecting to give them 3 numbers, then piss off and leave
them to it.
Hoo
boy, was I wrong, or what? The snowy-topped Gedge led his troops onstage at 11.30
to a rapturous reception from an utterly rammed Centre Stage, cantering into
the strident descending riff of opener “A Million Miles”, overlaying this
lovelorn paean with his low stentorian growl, and from the off it sounded
great, purposeful, big, fulsome, guitar-led, and with a dynamism, conviction and
cutting edge sadly lacking for oh so long. The edgy slow/ fast “Don’t Talk Just
Kiss” saw Gedge bent double, sawing at his battered guitar for all he was
worth, recalling visions of the first time I saw them supporting The Mighty
Lemon Drops in 1986 (gig 58) and being utterly astonished by his wrist
dexterity! Even early newie “I Am Not Going To Fall In Love With You” was
imbued with power and purpose, the mosh causing the sprung floor to bounce
along in time. Who is this band, and where have they been since the 80’s??!
Yup,
that cutting edge restored, The Weddoes were easily band of the day for me and
a close runner-up to Modern English for the overall weekend honours. “Nobody’s
Twisting Your Arm” was an unexpected huge singalong, segueing into a powerful,
bouncy “Kennedy”, then the yearning ascending chorus of “My Favourite Dress”
was a set highlight, until the inevitable finale of a breathless, roaring and
hurtling “Brassneck”. Just a great set, and I wasn’t the only one so surprised,
as we discussed this triumphant and restorative set with a vindicated Martin
(who’d had no doubt), before I headed back for the night.
So,
onto day 3 of a swift and, happily, very surprising “Shiiine On”, musically at
least! Another fried breakfast today, as, as previously mentioned, our usual Sunday
carvery was postponed after the line-up timing announcement last week, given
that the only 3 acts I/we were interested in today were all on in Centre Stage,
consecutively from lunchtime! Bah! Anyhoops, off we wandered after brekky,
through the drizzle to the first of the three… MAT FLINT, 90’s genre-hopping
guitar roustabout but best known, by me at least, as frontman for sadly
short-lived melodic shoegaze/ dreampoppers Revolver, had actually initially
been scheduled to play the Inn On The Green, but was bumped up (?) to the 12.45
opening slot for Centre Stage Sunday, following the announcement that he
intended to play a full Revolver set with a new 3-piece band. So, we headed in
10 minutes beforehand, only to find the place utterly deserted! Yikes!
Nonetheless,
Matt and I took barrier spots, along with a mere dozen or so bleary-eyed
interested parties, for Mat’s entrance. He and the band opened with Revolver’s
best number, the brilliant “Crimson”, a regular handover number for me during
my 1991 Lev DJ-ing days (finishing my stint and asking DJ partner The Big Man
to start his sesh with it, so I could head down and dance to it!). Slightly thin,
echoey and understandably understated as Mat and the band bedded themselves
into the set, it was nonetheless great to hear it again after so long.
“Drowning Inside” was an early, eerie textural affair, Mat jumping on the
pedals with glee to overlay his lilting, high-pitched vocals, and a later
“Cradle Snatch” was an elongated and atmospheric psych workout. Revolver’s
best-known number, the debut “Heaven Sent An Angel” was a lengthy, loose-limbed
piece of absorbing loveliness, and the off-kilter tumbling drums and discordant
psych of “Venice” closed out a slightly uneven, taciturn but welcome slight
return from Mat… and Revolver?
I
chatted with Mat’s charming wife Emma briefly afterwards, as Mat responded to
my request for a set list by writing me one out especially! Chap! Kept my spot
for “live” favourites of mine (and my son Logan’s!), 80’s folk/ punk class
warrior veterans yet “Shiiine On” virgins THE MEN THEY COULDN’T HANG, due next
up at 10 to 2. I’d actually chatted with TMTCH mainstay Paul Simmonds about “Shiiine
On” at their recent triumphant 40th Anniversary gig at the Thekla
(gig 1,345), trying to allay his misgivings about their being booked to play
what seemed to them prima facae a Madchester/ Britpop Festy by saying
it’s about all 80s-90s indie, you’ll do great, if you’re on late on Saturday
night or something like that it’ll be a raucous drunken singalong encapsulating
the spirit of the band etc. etc… to which he then replied, “we’re on Sunday
lunchtime…” I mean, “Shiiine On” organisers, WTAF???
Making
it a bit worse was a lengthy, fiddly and seemingly unnecessary backline
soundcheck, delaying their start until 2 in front of a more respectable (if
still no more than half full) dance floor. “We’re going to liven things up a
bit!” announced main man Phil “Swill” Odgers, opening with the rambunctious if
a little low-key fiddle-diddle of “Raising Hell”. A more robust “Going Back To
Coventry” got me bouncing down the front, after which Swill remarked about
being up all night (“so it’s late for us!”) then called for a sing-along to a
bolshy, anthemic “Ghosts Of Cable Street”, pointing me out and saying, “I know you’ll
sing!”
So
sing I did, giving my pipes a proper workout (my usual TMTCH duetting partner
Logan being absent from “Shiiine On”, I had to sing for two!) as The Men
maintained their jolly fun, inclusive folky punky form from that Thekla gig, occasionally
going slightly off-piste with the set selection (the sea shanty feel of “The Lion
And The Unicorn” and a slow-burn “Silver Gun” being unexpected inclusions) but bringing
it right back with a poignant and emotive “Green Fields Of France”,
particularly the haunting, stripped back lump-in-the-throat 4th
verse. “Smugglers” enlivened the mood thereafter with its’ soaring terrace
chant chorus, then the subsequent Miners’ Strike story of “Shirt Of Blue” was
moody and menacing, and “Island In The Rain” a touching ballad featuring some
virtuoso sawing from veteran violinist Bobby Valentino (Swill announcing
beforehand, “[this one is] Bobby’s favourite – and he works us hard!”). Damn
that lengthy soundcheck, as they had to cut “Colours” from the end of the set
at short notice, but absolutely nailed a brilliant and breathless “Ironmasters”
to conclude a joyfully singalong and, ultimately, well-attended and
well-received set. See, you do belong here at “Shiiine On”, Simmo!
I’d
been bouncing and singing along, so, hoarse and a little knee-sore, I joined
the crew in their seats, house left at the edge of the dancefloor, for “Shiiine
On” regular MILES HUNT, this time doing the solo thang instead of being backed
by the full Wonder Stuff line-up, and again bafflingly on mid-afternoon, 10
past 3 in this instance. It’s as if the organisers didn’t notice just how well
his last solo set (late Sunday evening in Reds and following a disappointingly
received Teenage Fanclub headliner slot) went down, seeing out “Shiiine On”
2022 (gig 1,253) on a real inclusive singalong high. Nuts. Just nuts. Still, the
mid-afternoon slot didn’t seem to dampen Miles’ bullish, buoyant mood,
immediately giving us, “fair warning, I’m going to be calling for some audience
participation,” thereafter noting, “I know my 20-year-old self would hate my 58-year-old
self [for] sitting on a stool encouraging singalongs, but I like pissing that
guy off!”
As
expected, this was another jolly, inclusive and entertaining showing by a man
totally at ease with himself and his history, and with the demands of the
“Shiiine On” crowd. Give them what they want, and Miles is happy to do so,
delving gleefully through the Wonder Stuff back catalogue for this set, and
augmenting the selections with stories and vignettes from his near-40 years (!)
in rock. So a couple of stories of near-interactions with Bob Dylan were
interspersed into a meandering “Caught In My Shadow”; “Here Comes Everyone”
followed a story about a brief fling during a US tour, and trying to
subsequently dump his girlfriend in letter form; and “Maybe” saw Miles assuring
the crowd that he means no disrespect to “the great Michael Stipe”, despite the
possibly disparaging reference in said song’s lyric.
Ploughing
past the hour mark (“I hate the pantomime of the encore; it’s patronising on
both sides…”), Milo rounded off with a few more upbeat singalong Stuffies cuts
in “No For The 13th Time”, “Don’t Let Me Down, Gently” and,
following an audience vote, “Size Of A Cow” (“the no’s have it, but fuck you,
I’m in charge!”), before finishing with “Give Give Give Me More More More” and
a thought of how lucky we are to still be here, which hit home with us, and
Miles personally too, given the recent loss of his beloved dog The Winkster.
“Thank you for propping me up,” was the man’s comment, but the feeling as ever
is mutual.
Then
that was that! Given the swathes of Indie landfill subsequently on the Skyline
stage, the musical element of our “Shiiine On” was done by half four on Sunday
afternoon! We grabbed noodle tea from Chopstix and headed back to the apartment
for the 5pm England game. Rach and Sarah drifted back into the arena rather
than watch the footy, so I wandered back in to find them, running into old
Level 3 friends Sara and Sharon and introducing them to Milo, hanging out in
the Inn On The Green. Eventually found Rach and Sarah, hiding in the arena back
bar from STARSAILOR’s admittedly proficiently delivered but to my ears
oh-so-dull plodding material. We eventually headed back to the apartment where
we all gathered for some fun and raucous card games, especially “Spoons”! Much
more fun than Embrace, as far as I'm concerned, anyway!
Come
10 o’clock, and Matt and I popped back briefly to a spottily attended Centre
Stage to catch a bit of young bucks THE RATS. Musically they were okayish in
(yet again) a generic baggy way, but they soon put me in mind of a poor-man’s
Stereo MCs, and the vocalist’s grating tones were hurting my head, so we headed
back in short order, done for the night. Packed up and (eventually) gathered
everyone together the next morning, popping in to book for next year and bid
farewells to Martin and Simon (Matt having left earlier) before heading off, dropping
Sarah off in Bristol and getting back to the ‘don just after 2. Another
excellent weekend, with some surprising bonuses, music-wise, and great company
and fun times during those musical black holes. “Shiiite On”? On reflection,
that was harsh… it was a “Great Eight” after all!
SHERIFF’S
SHIIINE ON SELECTION
Friday
Best
– MODERN ENGLISH
Saturday
Best
– THE WEDDING PRESENT
Sunday
Best
– THE MEN THEY COULDN’T HANG
Overall – 1. MODERN
ENGLISH, 2 THE WEDDING PRESENT, 3. THE MEN THEY COULDN’T HANG, 4. MILES HUNT,
5. KEELEY
Best
New Band
– KEELEY! Well, first time I’ve seen them, so I’m counting that…
We
Can Be Heroes
– MY CREW as usual; kudos to new guy Simon! RACHEL for sensibly pacing herself.
The ubiquitous KEELEY MOSS for being friendly and chatty, as well as a great
performer. MILES HUNT, ditto actually. THE SOUND GUY for sorting me 3 lists. MAT
FLINT for writing me one!
