1,362 THE SKIDS, Spear Of Destiny, Bristol Trinity, Thursday 12th December 2024

A double-header of old school 70’s punk acts to head towards the end of the 2024 gig year; The Damned tomorrow night (ironically, Vanian’s mob are across town at Bristol Beacon tonight!), but firstly, my nascent musical loves, 70’s Scots anthemic punks The Skids. Since their reunion odyssey started in 2016, I’d seen them 8 times as their line-up swirled, morphed and circulated around main man Richard Jobson, to the point that the line-up on their most recent sighting in 2023 (gig 1,298) was Jobbo plus 4 young, hired hands. Still, since the sad passing of his Skids partner Stuart Adamson in 2001, The essence of The Skids is and has always been Richard Jobson, both for his dramatic and baroque lyricism, and for his enthusiastic and effervescent “live” performances. Consequently, if he/ they are playing, I’ll be going to see him/ them! 

So, a trip down to Trinity was called for, the nearest The Skids come to the ‘don on this, a 45^th Anniversary tour celebration of their sophomore album “Days In Europa”, which saw them infuse the anthemic punk of their “Scared To Dance” debut with a more expansive, synth-embellished, Bowie-esque sound. I had company too in Rich and Stu and set off to scoop them up about 5.30. 1 hour later, we still hadn’t left town, as an M4 closure due to a hydraulic fluid spillage had clogged it with traffic. Bah! Still, once we hit the M4, we zoomed down and parked up in Cabot, wandering in at 20 to 8. Luckily openers Spear Of Destiny, due at 7.30, were 15 minutes late on, opening with the swaggering rock strut of “Land Of Shame”, sounding street-tough and hard-rocking, although Kirk Brandon’s distinctive high operatic vocals were clipped and a little submerged in the mix. A reason for this became evident when he spoke between numbers, a gravelly rasp (and more than a few off-mic coughs) indicating a touch of man-flu maybe? Nonetheless, he and the band soldiered on gamely, with the robust military-march double of “Rainmaker” and “Young Men” early highlights. The set wavered for me a little midway, Brandon clearly pacing himself vocally, but the parched, Navajo Desert Western movie theme feel of “Never Take Me Alive” was a mid-set highlight and a precursor for a fine final trio; an epic “World Service”, always my favourite, Brandon conducting the “I hear music” singalong, then the desolate, anti-war paean “Mickey”, and finally the pacey moshpit catnip of “Liberator”, Brandon struggling a bit to get over the line, but thanking us “cider drinkers” after a hard-fought set.

Chatted with a bloke down the front as we kept our house left spots, a couple of rows back; then the bubbling backwards synth of a taped “Peaceful Times” heralded the 4-piece band onstage, Jobson on last and crashing into the rejigged militaristic backbeat of “Animation”, the man already St. Vitus dancing and shadow boxing to the music in his inimitable way. A hurtling “Thanatos” and the timebomb tick of a terrace chant-chorused “Charade” later, he admitted, “you come onstage and feel 16 again; 3 songs later and you’re fucked!” 

Nonetheless, this was another age-defying performance from the muscular Jobson, challenging the crowd to get involved in the regular anthemic terrace-chant choral hooks, and regaling us with stories from the time, such as a “Top Of The Pops” performance when he was complimented by a sultrily-voiced Diana Ross! The band were also on top form, young guitarist Connor Whyte again leading the charge with beautiful homages to Adamson’s distinctive intricate guitar patterns, but Jobbo as ever was the rabble-rousing focus, calling for a “Donald Trump’s A wanker” chant during the expansive “Yankee Dollar”, and giving a nod to Adamson before “A Day In Europa”. “Into The Valley” was as ever an epic singalong, if a little heavy-legged (or was that just me?), and, following the debate for and against “Albert Tatlock” (“what a pile of shite! It was credited as Jobson/ Adamson, but Stuart had nothing to do with it as he had class!”), the propulsive “Circus Games” was my set highlight, before the ragged march of “Hurry On Boys” ended a swift hour set.

An encore of their embryonic debut “Charles” and their own homage to Jobson’s heroes The Clash, a cover of Strummers boys’ “Complete Control” rounded off a great Skids performance; I’d grabbed a barrier spot front and centre by then, at the front of a boisterous moshpit, and was staring down Jobson during “Charles” and singing the words back to him, so was in prime position to catch the scrunched-up set-list lobbed over by guitarist Whyte. Nice! A quick chat with this talented young man, before we hit the road for a diversion-affected run to the ‘don, which was still way quicker than our outbound journey and got me home before midnight after dropping the boys off. Another great gig from The Skids (even if they’re not THE Skids these days, but you know what I mean…!), lovely to hear some of the lesser played “Europa” highlights, and great to see Jobbo as ever in ebullient form, continuing to enjoy himself onstage. Long may that continue!