The curtain falls on an entirely satisfactory, and at absolute top-level utterly stellar, 54 gig year (which in different circumstances might have topped the 60), and there are few more reliable acts currently trading the boards to see it out, than Stourbridge’s finest, enduring 80s/ 90’s Indie legends The Wonder Stuff. It seems that no matter how often our paths cross (22 and counting tonight!), I’m nowhere near tired of seeing future national treasure Miles Hunt and his band of flippant and upbeat fiddly-diddly, slightly-delic Indie earworm/ anthem merchants. So, booking for this tour, a 35th Anniversary celebration of sophomore album “Hup”, 5 years after the 30th one (gig 1,169), was a no-brainer, even if their Bristol date clashed with Gaz Brookfield’s previously booked Fleece Xmas “do”, necessitating a shlep oop the Smoke instead.
Unfortunately, Rachel was too tired to take up her ticket, but Rich, fresh from his annual school Santa stint, was happy for a short-notice Stuffies gig! So, I picked him and regular Stuffies gig companion Robynne up just after 4, anticipating heavy traffic on Xmas getaway Friday, which duly arrived as we ground to a dead stop near Reading. Not for long, though, and a decent run thereafter got us (eventually) parked up in the cavernous Westfield centre and in for 7.15, grabbing an extreme house right diagonal barrier spot, being annoyingly joined by a massive bloke who seemed to blot out the universe, never mind just the stage! Still, Robynne managed to get a good stage eyeline around him, and we were joined in short order by support Jack Francis. A hefty, bearded bloke who for me resembled one of The Eagles (!), he and his band stayed true to that image with some very dated sounding pedal steel, dusty truckstop countrified stuff, occasionally relatively harmonic in a 70’s hazy Laurel Canyon vibe, but mostly very pedestrian. “We’re keeping it short and sweet,” he announced a couple of numbers before the end of his set, which for me was his highlight!
Nevermind, The Stuffies were up in short order to blow away any support ennui, bounding onstage at 8.40 with the iridescent gold-shirted mainman Miles Hunt greeting the enthusiastic sellout crowd with his usual, “Oi! Oi!”, before leading the band into discordant, off-kilter opener “30 Years In The Bathroom” and a tremendous, bullish and buoyant “Radio Ass Kiss”. “Good evening, Shepherd’s Bush! How the fuck are ya!” he deadpanned before announcing, “we’re fucking with the tracklisting of “Hup”, just because we can!” So, set 1 was a rejigged “Hup”, Miles introducing violinist Erica Nockalls, resplendent in red floaty layered dress, onstage for an early C&W-infused “Golden Green”, before announcing an equally fiddle-tastic “Cartoon Boyfriend” with, “I hope nobody took relationship advice from your old pal Milo back in 1989!” A later, riotous “Don’t Let Me Down, Gently” (“and you never do,” complimented Miles) nearly – nearly – tempted me into the growing mosh, although that might partly have been just to get out of the shade of the aforementioned massive bloke, who, despite all the joyous singing and dancing surrounding him, hadn’t moved a muscle! The subsequent “Can’t Shape Up” was however the set 1 highlight by some distance, this “fucked-up breakup song” a tough yet poignant thing of wonder with a brilliantly tumbling descending verse.
“One thing about these album anniversary
shows – they’re short! We need to feel welcome for the absurdly long encore!” teased
Miles before jagged “Hup” finale “Goodnight Though”, the band peeling offstage
one by one at its denouement for a brief break. Said “encore”, i.e. set 2,
kicked off in short order with a breathless “Red Berry Joy Town” at which point
I tired of the monolith and joined in the occasionally boisterous but largely merry
mosh, nearly losing a shoe early doors (!) but carrying my bat thereafter.
Early (relative) newie “Tricks Of The Trade” was excellent, sweeping and
dramatic, but topped immediately by a brilliant “On The Ropes” and the circular
violin build of “Here Comes Everyone”. The strident, yearning choral hook of
“Don’t Anyone Dare Give A Damn” (“another newie – a breather before the final
push”) preceded the widescreen melancholy of “Caught In My Shadow”, then “the
inevitability” of a jolly, affirming “Size Of A Cow” and the chuntering
singalong “Give Give Give Me More More More” closed out a great set, Miles
conducting the hook singalong as he departed. Not for long, however, as encores
of a rocking “Unbearable” and the lengthy and thunderous cacophony of “Ten
Trenches Deep” shook the old venue to its foundations.
Grabbed an easy list before we made a slow exit, waving to comedian Greg Davies on the balcony as we vacated the dancefloor. A much easier if slightly boring economy run home saw me back just after 12.40 after dropping my gig buddies off, after an excellent night out in great company, both on and off stage. With Milo and the Wonder Stuff, as expected, in their usual stellar form, this was a fine way to end Gig year 2024!
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