1,327 FRANK TURNER “WORLD RECORD ATTEMPT”, Southampton The Brook, Sunday 5th May 2024 lunchtime

 

That Frank Turner’s a bit bleedin’ crazy at times, you know… Frank, a fixture of course of mine and Logan’s gig calendars since our admittedly late (2014) discovery of his celebratory and inclusive folk/punk anthems of punk-spirited empowerment and self-validation, announced plans to mark the release of his 10^th (!) solo album, “Undefeated” by playing 15 gigs in 15 different UK towns and cities… in the space of 24 hours! All gigs organised by local independent record stores, Frank planned to start Saturday lunchtime in Liverpool, going through the night from town to town by e-taxi and ending up with a Sunday lunchtime gig in Southampton, which would represent a New World Record of 15 shows in 24 hours, smashing the Flaming Lips’ former mark of 10. I found about this crazy scheme on a 40-minute old facebook post by the man himself, and immediately jumped on tix for the nearest show to the ‘Don, namely 10.30 a.m. in Frank’s hometown of Winchester. However that had unsurprisingly sold out in a shot, so we settled for the final, Sunday midday show in Southampton instead, which would actually afford us the opportunity to welcome him across the finish line, as it were…

I therefore needed to rouse Logan from his Sunday morning slumber to get up and go to a gig! We set off at ¼ to 10 for a sunny drive down the M4/ A34, running into Ben Sydes and Evie at Sutton Scotney services, then also at the venue itself, after we’d parked up a local side street and entered the already-rammed venue at 11.15 a.m. Enjoyed some rock chat and got introduced to Ben’s mate, a Southsea guy I’m pretty sure we’ve seen at plenty of Frank/ Gaz/ Ben gigs before, and who had been to the previous 2 shows earlier this morning. This of course gave light to a debate as to whether there had been folks mad enough to go to all 15 – the answer subsequently being yes, Frank pointing out said utter headcases during the set…!

Frank’s support team (who’d been travelling with him throughout) set up a couple of guitars on the stage, then at 12 prompt, the man took the stage himself to a disproportionately loud ovation, arms outstretched in triumph, basking in the adulation of the crowd and feeding off its’ energy to augment his own reserves for one final push to the summit. Bolting on one of the equally road-weary acoustics, he deadpanned, “my name’s Frank Turner; welcome to my midlife crisis! I’ve got 29 minutes on my timer, so let’s get on with it…” before launching into a biliously angry, punk rock “No Thank You For The Music”, the hook already roared back by the crowd, then a galloping “Girl From The Record Shop”, bringing back Freshies Manchester Virgin Megastore memories to this old new waver. He looked frankly knackered, red of face and with eyes like pissholes in the snow, but this evident tiredness didn’t seem to carry through to his voice, which was as overt and passionate a roar as ever. Leaving it all onstage on this last show, indeed!

Frank shared a story of a teenage punk pen pal who’d (very) recently gotten back in touch before the melancholy newie “Letters”; then the stream-of-consciousness gabbling verse of “Never Mind The Back Problems” (about, “being punk at 42!” Try 58, mate…!) was preceded by a story of his first ever gig – a punk show at the excellent Southampton Joiners in 1995! “Undefeated” again saw him pouring heart and soul into the performance, before a couple of well-chosen and raucously sung along oldies in “Recovery” and “I Still Believe”, Frank, understandably taking a couple of opportunities to rest the voice and let the crowd carry the hook on this latter number.

But this of course wasn’t about Frank’s performance itself, more about the achievement; we were witness to a New World Record for “live” performances, and crazy idea notwithstanding (Frank constantly making reference to that, and his t-shirt which read “Whose Stupid Idea Was This Anyway?”), said record couldn’t have fallen to a more hard-working and deserving musician and individual. Particularly given that, before set closer “Do One”, Frank highlighted the point that all 15 shows in the last 24 hours had been put on by independent record stores, delivering a sermon to, “keep small indie venues alive,” before one final singalong and a deafening roar at its’ conclusion. Frank then took a deserved bow and announced, “I’m now going home to sleep!” Fair enough really…

Bade farewell to Ben and Evie before slow egress out of the packed venue still got us home for 2 p.m. Felt weird coming home from a gig in the early afternoon, but no worries… Congrats Frank, you crazy guy!

1,326 ANNIE DRESSNER, Ed Blunt, Thieves, Trowbridge Village Pump at the Lamb Inn, Friday 3rd May 2024

 

Second night of my two-in-two’er, and this couldn’t be more different to last night’s sweaty sonic overload… The esteemed Matthew Caws, leader of course of The Greatest Band On The Planet, Nada Surf, posted a video of his friend Annie Dressner’s new song “I Should Have Seen It Coming”, in which he featured, having a ball thrown at him! Intrigued by this and the irresistible US alt-college pop groove of the song, I picked up its’ parent album, “I Thought It Would Be Easier” which, despite (or maybe because of) being considerably more understated than the outlier track “Coming”, is a beguiling work of quiet self-introspection, mixing elements of 70’s Laurel Canyon folk, alt-country and, yes, 90’s Blake Babies-esque college pop, and capped by a singular voice; high register, curling up at the edges, and both innocent and world-weary sounding in equal measure, evoking (for me at least) the likes of Mary Lorson, Margot Timmins and even Suzanna Hoffs. I just missed grabbing tix for Annie’s recent Purley gig but was happy to pounce on this one. A gig in Trowbridge? First time since those 90’s “Psychic Pig” days…

I parked up in the last spot in the Lamb Inn car park after a meander down the winding roads of Wiltshire, some 20 minutes before doors. A bit puzzled on entry to the pub as there was no actual indication that a gig was going on! I eventually discovered the venue was a high roofed outhouse barn, which with a seated balcony increased the capacity to, ooh, a couple of dozen… I took a set around one of the 4 bistro tables filling the ground floor, noting the plethora of old brass instruments, violins and equine equipment adorning the whitewashed walls, and of course the ubiquitous green water pump, house left. Quite the oddest gig venue I’ve been to for some time; plus, at 58, I seemed to be about the youngest of the dozen or so early comers! A serious contrast from last night; I don’t think I’ll be working up a moshpit sweat tonight…

Local lot Thieves (well, 3 of the usual 4 – apparently the 4^th member was “stolen…!”), on at 8 p.m., played a mix of originals and covers in a very trad C&W/ folk “woke up this morning” vein. Entirely competent at what they do, but not my cup of murky cider with bits floating in it. Their most memorable point was that the blond mandolin player’s fast one-note strumming reminded me of the “Out Of Town” theme tune, a 70’s country life TV programme I used to watch as a kid with my dad. Which was a nice memory, I guess… I got my hoody from the car as the barn was a bit chilly (t’was the other way around last night!), then main support Ed Blunt, a personable young chap and dead ringer for my work IT guy Joe, played a short set kicking off with an old-fashioned late night torch music keyboard number “Over The Moon”, before some more folk-oriented contemplative low key numbers on the guitar. For his last number, “Such A Shitshow”, Ed invited Annie onstage for a diverting duet, which was a nice way to end a pleasant enough set – better than the openers, anyway... 

Annie eventually plugged in for 9.20, warning us, “if you’re going to the bathroom, be aware there’s someone really scary in the way”, referring to a local apparently throwing his weight around… a little distracted, she nonetheless took to her task with chatty, affable ease and no little amount of talent; a solo alt-countrified “Nyack” was followed by Ed joining her onstage to provide backing keys to the delicate melancholy of “Black And White” and the world-weary and somewhat ironic “Do You Want To Start A Fight” (“I should have asked the guy outside…!”), then the Cowboy Junkies hush of “Kentucky” was preceded by a story of Annie rolling down a hill during her brief visit to the eponymous state! “Warning Sign”, co-written by David Ford, needed a restart as a siren distracted Annie midway through (apparently police had turned up to apprehend the bolshy local!), but she was back on form with a lovely “Leather Chair”, about visiting her grandmother who lived near the Empire State Building. A more upbeat “Big Grey Couch” led into some audience participation for the stream-of consciousness acerbic betrayal song “18 Years”; then Annie explained the concept for the video for set closer “I Should Have Seen It Coming” (“50 people having things thrown at them – Ed almost got hit by a brick!”) before a racey drum-loop augmented run through of this, my favourite of the set. 

After a final encore, Annie manned the merch and I got to compliment and chat about Mr. Caws with a gregarious and grateful singer, before hitting the road for an equally meandering drive home after an enjoyable if lower key evening of musical entertainment. Thanks Annie, and thanks Matthew for the tip!

1,325 OCTOBER DRIFT, Snake Eyes, Southampton Joiner's Arms, Thursday 2nd May 2024

 

A hectic 7-gig (currently, who knows?) May kicks off with a two-in-two’er, the first leg being a midweek jaunt down to the South Coast to see October Drift, Taunton’s finest purveyors of dynamic and dramatic grunge/ shoegaze wall-of-noise collision, and rapidly becoming one of the highlights of any gigging year due to a slew of incendiary “live” performances, hopefully set to continue tonight. This current tour, ending tonight, did pass closer to the ‘Don, particularly last Tuesday in Oxford, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see one of my increasingly favourite “live” bands in probably my favourite venue, The Joiners positively reeking of scuzzy rock’n’roll tradition. Like old 90’s/00’s “live” favourites Seafood at this very venue (gigs 450 and 706), this should be a match made in indie rock heaven. Let’s see…

A happily unencumbered blast down the M4/A34 got me parking up just after doors; since my last visit, a proliferation of double yellows have appeared in my usual street parking spots, but there’s a car park round the corner, so I can’t really complain… grabbed an easy spot near the front, house right and watched the place slowly fill around me, before support, Brighton 3-piece Snake Eyes, bounded onstage stage at 8.15 to the “Wallace and Gromit” theme tune! They set their stall out pretty much immediately with opener “Happy Pills”, a raw 70’s NYC Stooges punk stomper recalling The Subways or my mate Rich Carter’s short-lived band My Social Decline, continuing to tick boxes for me with a racier “40 Winks”, and the slow-burn languid laze-grunge of “Scuttlebug”, one of those numbers which, if you played it on record, would fool you into thinking it was on the wrong speed! The 70’s punk anti-billionaires protest of “No Cars” saw vocalist Jim leap into the crowd for his vocals, and after the drummer gave a shout out to several worthy causes (trans rights and Greenpeace amongst them), “No One Is Truly Cool” was dedicated to Wolf Alice’s bassist for allegedly being a bit of a dick to the band at Reading 2021! A raw-boned and hard-rocking set played with determination and dynamism was capped with the penultimate best-of-set “Wishbone”, a frantic thrash recalling Adorable’s “Favourite Fallen Idol”. Decent start! 

A quick trip back to the car to dump my hoody, then a merch-stand chat with SE vocalist Jim, getting the full skinny on the Wolf Alice incident (nosy git!), before getting my spot back. About ¾ full, this, which I guess is a decent turnout for a Thursday, but this band absolutely deserve much, much more! The witching hour approached, and a lone mic-stand was set up in the middle of the floor, then sure enough, the lights went dark and vocalist/ guitarist Kiron Roy emerged from the back of the venue, delivering a mournful solo “Ever After”, with the band, unseen, taking the stage and filling in during its’ denouement. Then Kiron joined them onstage for the launch into a soaring, tremendous “Lost Without You” and we were away… 

There’s a case to be argued for October Drift to be just about the most incendiary “live” band around right now, certainly a band whose intense “live” performances elevate their already-bloody-ace-actually huge-chorused shimmering grungy shoegaze material to seismic, earth-shaking new heights. And the movement? I’ve not seen a band consistently deliver such ferociously kinetic, all-action performances since the heady 00’s days of Seafood and The Gravel Pit, even…! The angular backbeat and trademark stratospheric hook of “Losing My Touch” saw the first of many forays by the vocalist back into the crowd, then “Don’t Give Me Hope” was a widescreen wallowing mood changer before a couple of newies, the Bunnymen-esque atmospherics of “Hollow” and the dramatic ascending verse of an utterly tremendous “Blame The Young”. Kiron (who throughout urged the crowd to come closer, get more involved) played conductor to the audience call-and-response “don’t think I’m coming back” hook of “Waltzer”; “Airborne Panic Attack” was all seething power and drama; and set closer “Oh The Silence” again saw Kiron in the middle of the mosh, as I abandoned my front row spot and moshed with him! 

Drummer Chris Holmes then took a vote (“lets do this like we’re at school”) for the encore, he and Kiron delivering the winning “Like The Snow We Fall” a-cappella in the round, surrounded by the devoted singing along reverentially to the hook. A beautiful, heart-tugging moment to end another quite startling gig from this special band. Brief chats with the band members, who seemed to remember me from recent gigs which was nice, then I sweatily hit the road for a return to the ‘Don just after midnight. They’re back on tour in the Autumn, and on this form, that’s also one not to be missed!

1,324 BEARS IN TREES, The Happy Fits, Lexie Carroll, Bristol Fleece, Monday 29th April 2024

 

Bears In Trees, Jami’s favourite “Dirtbag Boyband”, announced their biggest UK tour in support of their sophomore, independently released album “How To Build An Ocean: Instructions”, including a Monday night date at Bristol’s Fleece, so despite this being on a school night, we booked tix for a daddy/ daughter gig! BiT had of course provided Jami with a serious “holy shit!” gig moment in Portsmouth last time out (gig 1,230), as guitarist Nick and keyboardist Callum had emerged from backstage to return her BiT art piece, fully signed; nothing like that in the offing tonight, but this should still be a good ‘un!

 So we hit the road before 6, listening to “Ocean” on the way, then joining a winding queue 20 minutes before doors, Jami chatting to fellow fans before we got in and bagged a barrier spot, albeit extreme house right. A sell-out, this, and very young and largely female/ LGBTQIA+-savvy crowd (many accompanied, like J, by slightly bemused parents!) were in enthusiastic fettle for opener Lexie Carroll, on at an early 7.20. A similarly young solo singer/ guitarist, backed up by those dreaded backing tape loops and beats, her set featured a couple of decent tracks in the chunky 90’s US alt-college pop feel of “Laundry Detergent” and the bouncier indie pop of “Never Made It To Glasgow” amongst some moodier, more dreampop-orientated pieces, all delivered in a fey, high and lilting voice (not unlike Beabadoobee, according to J) and lapped up by this young crowd. Despite my aversion to the backing tapes, I found myself tapping a toe along… 

Next up were main support, New Jersey’s The Happy Fits, dead on at 8; led by Calvin Langman, a big-haired and seriously buff vocalist/ cellist (there’s a phrase I don’t use often!), I initially struggled with their scattergun, overly beat-driven and terrace chant shouty set, which veered from Summery but throwaway Britpop to oompah carnival marches (!), and Langman himself coming over slightly patronising (“we’ve come from America!”). However, after a speech from the singer channelling the LGBTQIA+ element of the crowd, the subsequent “Little One” (introduced as “a song for my future kid”) was tremendous, a huge-chorused slice of bright chugging Redd Kross powerpop, and after that I seriously warmed to them. “Mary”’s glam rhythm recalled Chicory Tip, “Heart Of A Dancer” was a frantic galloping piece of NYC 70’s punk rock with Langman asking everyone to kneel down then jump up at the climax (not for me!), and after the singer fielded a question about how much he could bench (his bandmate retorting, “I’m pretty sure he lifted the tour bus!”), the change-of-pace hurtle and scat vocals of “Too Late” rounded off an overall set of two halves, albeit one constantly delivered with kinetic enthusiasm and gusto by a determined new band.

Jami and I took turns to squeeze through the packed crowd for quick loo breaks, but were back in situ for Bears In Trees, bounding onstage to a drumroll at 9.20 following a fiddly soundcheck. And they were straight into galloping, gabbling newie “Things That Look Like Mistakes”, the place, predictably, going utterly postal, the devoted audience already singing along to every word with unbridled joy. An early “Cassiopeia” was a slow/fast upbeat indie banger, with livewire bassist/ co-vocalist Ian, resplendent in facepaint and flowing old lady skirt, declaring at its conclusion, “we’ve released a new album and we did it totally independently!” thanking the BiT community for their support and underlining, as before, the close connection between band and crowd. 

Musically, Bears In Trees play upbeat buoyant TMBG/ C86-inflected jangle pop with occasional hints of harder-edged US alt-emo (early Del Amitri meets The Front Bottoms, maybe?), overlaid with overly wordy lyricism on themes of self-reflection and making sense of growing up in this messed up world. However, “live”, tonight felt less of a gig, and more of a tribal gathering, a safe haven for the kooks, the odd ones, the slightly out of place ones to identify with and celebrate their differentness. In that sense, it’s not unlike punk rock... “Permanence” (preceded by Ian's story of BiT’s last Bristol trip, the Thekla gig that I missed, during which he split his head open on the low-hanging stage amps!) underlined this, a slow burn voyage of self-discovery with a telling lyric of “I wish this came with instructions”; co-vocalist Callum broke out the ukulele for the stupidly jaunty “Mossy Cobblestones”; and “I Don't Wanna Be Angry” was a set highlight and the best of the new material, a cathartic and soaring banger with building verses. Before set closer, the grungy denouement of “We Don't Speak Anymore”, Ian urged everyone to look around at each other, stating “we're in this together”, again channelling the atmosphere of celebratory community.

Encores of a stop-start (due to a punter fainting but quickly recovering) “Apathy Is Boring” and the clipped Orange Juice jangle of “Heaven Sent Is A Coffee Cup” (during which Callum went walkabouts in the crowd, ending up in the viewing box at the back of the venue!) rounded off a fine set again played with effervescence and dynamism. We were then happily handed a list before clearing off early (school night after all!) for a quick hammer home. Fine gig; Jami loved it, which was the important thing, but in all honesty I thoroughly enjoyed it too. Nice one chaps!

 

1,323 JOHNNY MARR, Gaz Coombes, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 10th April 2024

 

Well, wasn’t this just a thing of utter joy and wonder…

I feel a little ashamed that it took me until last year’s stellar single “Somewhere” to get on board with Johnny Marr’s solo works; I loved iconic 80’s jangle-indie band The Smiths whilst never ascribing to the hero-worship of their admittedly charismatic lead singer Morrissey, finding him dismissive and arrogant at the time, and quite distasteful in his utterances since (and if Simon Fletcher’s definitive “A Light That Never Goes Out” Smiths biog is anything to go by, it seems bandmate, co-songwriter and wingman Marr put up with a lot of his shit back then too…), so I’d largely blanked on Mozzer’s solo career since the Smiths’ dissolution in 1987. Marr, however, had gone a different route, forming chart-friendly synth duo Electronic with New Order’s Bernard Sumner, then becoming somewhat of a luxury gun-for-hire with the likes of The Pretenders, Modest Mouse and The Cribs. So when he finally turned his hand to a solo career, some dozen years or so, it barely registered on my radar. My mistake. “Somewhere” is a beautifully crafted slice of classic, effortlessly melodic and hooky indie pop, referencing Marr’s past but sounding very modern at the same time. I bought the accompanying “Spirit Power” compilation of his recent solo works and loved it, which honestly, given my love for The Smiths but not their singer, made perfect sense.

So the other thing to fall into place for me would be a “live” gig, of course… happily, Marr announced a Spring 2024 “Spirit Power” tour outside of my knee op window, so I gleefully booked myself a ticket, the only surprise being I couldn’t find anyone else interested! So, flying solo, I set off early down a drizzly M4, hitting the already ample O2 priority queue 20 minutes before doors, greeting a passing Martin Thompson on his way in, then bagsying a second-row spot, house right, on entry. With barriers all taken, my knee is going to suffer tonight, so good thing I chucked some painkillers down before leaving… not long to wait, though, as support Gaz Coombes took the stage at 7.45 with his 6-piece band, including a saxophonist! I’d last seen former Supergrass mainman Coombes marking time in his Hot Rats project on the Foo Fighters undercard (gig 824), so was happy to report that tonight was infinitely better; “Salamander” was an eminently serviceable slice of soaring indie pop for starters, then “Don’t Say It’s Over” had a more melodic hazy 70’s Laurel Canyon vibe, setting the tone for the rest of the set. A little bit country, a little bit down and dirty bluesy (particularly set highlight “Deep Pockets”, a dark and swampy Doors “La Woman” clone), and occasionally quite lovely (the middle-8 break of “Turn The Card Around”, and “The Girl Who Fell To Earth”, a touching ballad), this set was replete with quality songwriting, which should be a given for Coombes, but was still a pleasant surprise! Clearly overjoyed at this support slot as well (calling opening for Marr a “privilege and honour” from the outset), his accomplished performance gave the impression of a man who’d rediscovered his mojo, and quite likely another indie icon I need to catch up with.

I hazarded a comfort break (partly also to stop the knee from seizing up, a la Nick Parker’s gig recently), but was back in place by 9, as an air-raid siren and spotlight combo served as walk-on accompaniment for Marr and the band. Opener “Sensory Street” was an enjoyable, swaggering stomp with a synth blare hook, but was swept away by the “Metal Guru” glam strut of Smiths classic “Panic”, next up, Marr’s middle-8 riff being cheered to the rafters before the joyous and extended “hang the DJ!” singalong outro. “Bristol, eh?” deadpanned Marr, “last time we were here was 2018; [that was] a rocking night, so no pressure then!”

Coombes was right; this was a privilege and honour to be in the presence of a true rock icon tonight, but one not resting on any past glories, instead delivering a consummate, virtuoso performance. Not necessarily a natural singer, with a high register, more understated vocal delivery recalling his former Electronic bandmate Sumner, he was however a natural star, confident and urbane onstage, and of course an utter master craftsman on the guitar – it was telling that whenever he stepped away from the mic to deliver one of his trademark intricate, undulating and utterly mellifluous guitar riffs, mobile phones sprung up like sunflowers to record those moments. And, replete with Smiths numbers this set might have been, but his own material largely stood pat with them; an early “Spirit, Power and Soul” was powered along by an ascending synth riff recalling Electrafixion’s classic “Zephyr” into the soaring hook, and after the subsequent, joyous “This Charming Man”, Marr quipped, “here’s a new one; don’t worry, it’s not shit!”, then delivering a stunning, stripped back and almost symphonic “Somewhere”. Just gorgeous and quite possibly my highlight of a night crammed with many. 

After the reverential singalong to a heartbreaking and extended “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want”, rendered largely acoustically, Marr invited Coombes back onstage to duet on “Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before”, the former Supergrass man clearly in fantasy band camp for this. The melodic riff of “Bigmouth Strikes Again” was totally joyous, Marr then lowering his voice an octave for the vocal to the dark, jagged rhythm of “How Soon Is Now”. “Easy Money”’ s swaggering repetitive hook was stupidly catchy, before Marr rounded off a stellar set with Electronic’s “Getting Away With It”, the upbeat synth pop combining with the disco ball twinkle to provide a magical snowglobe effect. 

“Well, this has been quite a nice way to spend a… night; oh yeh, Wednesday…” Marr deadpanned before the inevitable nightcap of “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out”, the stripped back, lengthy and inclusive communal final choral singalong being a totally apposite finale for an utterly stellar show, and reminding me of Hooky at “Shiiine On”, doing the same for the equally revered “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. Johnny at “Shiiine On” one day? Ooh, that’d be an idea… I joined the baying hordes at the front for a list, more in hope than expectation, so was gratified when the roadie made a point of thrusting the guitarist’s one towards me, as I was the only bloke saying “please”! Loaded up with merch too, chatting to the lady who’d been dancing next to me during the set, then managed to limp up the hill to the car park for a swift drive back to the ‘don. As I said, this was an utterly joyful performance from the man, and will likely loom large in my “Best Gig of 2024” list. I’m now totally back on board with Johnny fuckin Marr!

1,322 GAZ BROOKFIELD, Mischa Weston-Green, Salisbury Winchester Gate Beer Garden (matinee), Saturday 6th April 2024

 

When the girls are away, then the boys will gig…! My missus had long earmarked this afternoon for a Bristol theatre trip with the daughter of the house, so when Logan’s and my own “most-seen” live act, “The Bard of Purton” himself, West Country travelling folk/ punk land pirate ruffian Gaz Brookfield, announced a matinee beer garden show at Salisbury bolt-hole The Winchester Gate, suddenly our afternoon looked a bit different than the usual Saturday afternoon vegging on the sofa (usually post-gym morning, to be fair…) watching the footy results. No sir, some acoustic Gaz shenanigans now await!

So we set off just after 12.30, a little later than planned as Logan was feeling a little worse for wear (!) and was slow getting up… happily he revived on the winding journey through Savernake to old Sarum, so was in good form as we arrived, dumping the motor in a nearby cash-only car park which, as we had no cash, required a fiddly app download! Gained entry into this 2-tier beer garden which reminded me of Southampton Hobbit’s sprawling back yard, then back into the pub for drinks, queueing up behind Gaz and Logan having a chat with him about motorbikes and stuff. Support Mischa Weston-Green had already started, so we took a watching brief at the top of the steps on the fringes of the open upper tier (all the benches were taken). A solo acoustic guy, as expected, his material had definite Jamaican/ reggae leanings, both in the rhythm and song structure and in Mischa’s vocal delivery. A mid-set “Stop, Drop, Roll” was punkier, and apparently co-opted by Extinction Rebellion as their theme, and my highlight was the frantic closer about his favourite bands whilst growing up; shame the track was way better than the bloody awful bands (Queen, RATM, RHCP, Guns’n’Roses) it namechecked (!), and overall I was a bit ambivalent about his set. Nice he’s trying something other than the usual punk-tinged acoustic folky stuff, but I’ve never been a fan of reggae anyway, and the material largely didn’t make much of an impression on me either… 

We ventured down to the bottom tier, covered gazebo-like, and eyed up a couple of unoccupied seats by the merch desk to the right of the corner stage. As Gaz kicked into his usual rambunctious form dead on 3 with a jovial and jocular “Solo Acoustic Guy”, no-one else had bagged them, so we did! An early, swayalong and rather ace actually “So Very Rock And Roll” saw the first beer garden singalong to the “la la la la” middle 8 refrain, and when Gaz then announced the release of an acoustic version of his recent “Morning Walking Club” album before an affirmative “Nuggets”, the dog companion of an old bloke in marker-penned hi-viz gear (more on him later) started barking. Everyone’s a critic…! 

Having seen Gaz a couple of times at the end of last year, much of the newer numbers in the set and the explanations for same were recently familiar, although it was nice to hear Gaz’ story about “Time Team” again before a poignant “Arborglyph”, particularly the addendum that Gaz is now appearing on “TT” in May! “I’m taking my metal detector and I’ll find absolutely nothing…!” he quipped… However my particular favourites of the early set were the “path less trodden” numbers, such as a rare, relaxed “Pen To Paper”, and the splendid “Cornish Fishing Town”, played by Gaz “in the round”, standing and rotating (“I’m the lazy Susan of folk!”) on the wall separating the 2 beer garden levels, and using a fretted dulcimer that a sponsor had bought him, in exchange for writing a song in 24 hours using it! The band coming-of-age paean “Hook Village Hall” was another highlight, particularly as Dave, one of the protagonists of the song, was present this afternoon, Gaz revealing he had indeed nicked a drumbeat from ska punkers [spunge]!

By now we’d been joined by the old bloke with the dog, who proceeded to rifle through Gaz’ CD box, which made me a little awkward… do I stop him, or what? Luckily the onlooking Gaz didn’t seem too perturbed, although the final few numbers were played in a bit of a gallop; the more familiar likes of “Be The Bigger Man”, a brilliant “Gunner Haines”, an acerbic “I’ve Paid My Money” (“it’s not about you guys!”), the “arrrr!”-inducing “Land Pirates Life” and a totally apt and inclusive singalong to “West Country Song” rounding off a fine set, and a perfect accompaniment to a lazy beer garden afternoon.

Happily, the old bloke paid for the pile of CDs he’d accumulated, and I grabbed a new tee and a handshake from Gaz at the merch stand, before we set off, home via the chippy for tea. Nice one Gaz; we’ll see you later in the year for the usual Hop and Fleece full band double-header!

1,321 RIDE, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Wednesday 3rd April 2024

 

Not mine, unfortunately, kudos to occasional gig buddy Alfie for swiping the mixing desk list!

Fair play to Ride; they’re not just resting on the laurels of their lauded shoegaze/ neo Britpop past… This iconic reformed 90’s band, a couple of years removed from touring the Covid-delayed 30^th Anniversary of their classic and genre-defining debut album, 1990’s “Nowhere” (a tour I caught in Bristol for a stunning performance, gig 1,221), announced plans for a new album, their third such since their 2015 reunion. Snatches of said album “Interplay” sounded very promising indeed, a definite upbeat groove underpinning their shimmering yet muscular guitar sound, so I pre-ordered a copy of the album, plus tix for their Autumn tour (having to shlep it down to Portsmouth for that one, as I’d already made plans for their Bristol date). However, this then came up… I was rather hoping they’d do a Rough Trade in-store album release tour whilst not counting on it, but booked as soon as it was announced, spreading the word to like-minded friends in the process. Ride at close quarters, then a meet and greet? Yes please; particularly as there’s a burning question I’d been meaning to ask them if I ever got the chance…

So I picked Rich May up, spending a longer than anticipated (and cross-country!) drive down to Brizzle catching up – been awhile! Met up with friends Matt and newly-domiciled Bristolian Sarah, already there in this splendid small back-room venue. Whiled away the time as the room filled up – a sold-out one this, not surprisingly… Ride took the stage spot on at 7.30, the front row of vocalist/ guitarists Andy Bell and Mark Gardener, plus bassist Steve Queralt taking seats line abreast, Andy immediately bigging up the album; “last we checked we’re no. 2 [in the album charts], beaten only by Beyonce; that’s a strange situation!” 

Thereafter we were treated to a shining 40-minute acoustic vignette, understandably concentrating on the new album material, and revealing Ride are hitting a rich vein of songwriting form, the “Interplay” material on show tonight largely standing pat with the best of their post-reunion releases. Opener “Peace Sign” was powered by a tough beat from drummer Laurence Colbert and featured an impressive languid dual vocal hook interplay (sic) from Andy and Mark; “Last Frontier”’s backbeat drum opening ceded to a New Order-esque ascending bass underpinning a melancholy verse and beautifully harmonic chorus; and “Monaco” was a robust metronomic rocker even in this format. Between numbers, Ride again demonstrated they’re in fine fooling, those turbulent Britpop days thankfully long gone, with some fun banter, Andy keeping the anti-Beyonce vibe going, and Mark responding to a punter asking about a Welsh gig with, “Andy’s from Wales and if he goes back, he’ll be in trouble!”

An unexpected “Vapour Trail”, stripped back and delicately delivered, was utterly gorgeous, Mark then announcing, “let’s keep the oldies flowing for the nostalgia element in the room!” with a bouncy, strumalong and almost Beatles-esque “OX4”. Finally, “Last Night I Went Somewhere To Dream” reluctantly ended proceedings, a menacing, almost Burundi drumbeat recalling Echo And The Bunnymen’s “Zimbo” flowing into a lighter, pastoral chorus. Great way to end an understated but warm and shining set. 

Signing sesh afterwards, so after a wait we got albums signed and pics taken, plus I brought my Gigbook Volume 2, featuring the NME “On” piece from January 1990 which introduced me to Ride, along for the boys to sign, Laurence showing particular interest in my memorabilia which was nice. I also got to ask that question – when are they going to play “Shiiine On”? Mark murmured, “yeah we should play there”, my rather gushing reply of, “you totally should, you’d utterly smash it,” being cut across by Andy replying, “you can’t just turn up you know, you have to be asked!” So, come on Shiiine On, get asking…!

Left the venue with Oxonian Mark giving me some friendly gyp for my Swindon Town FC allegiances (!), before farewells to Matt and Sarah, and a drizzly yet quicker drive home, dropping Rich off then home via Jimmy’s for late kebab tea. So maybe they’re not at Shiiine On this year (unless they’re all phenomenal poker players!), but on this form, that aforementioned Ride Portsmouth gig this September should be a “live” highlight of the Autumn…

1,320 FLO AND THE ESCAPE LANE, Sienna Wileman, Swindon The Tuppenny, Thursday 28th March 2024

 

“Have you got Flo’s album yet?” I was asked by a fellow front-row punter at Nick Parker’s excellent Winchester gig last Saturday (gig 1,319), to which I had to admit, nope, I had yet to avail myself of the debut release by Nick’s daughter, burgeoning songstress and singer-songwriter Flo Parker Bombosch. Having heard some intriguing comments about said disc – less overtly wordy or jolly than the old man’s stuff, and more in an introspective, contemplative indie folk vein – I’d been meaning to check it out anyway, so made another mental note to order it when I got paid at the end of the month. However, aimlessly scrolling Facebook earlier this afternoon accelerated that deadline, as I stumbled across a Flo gig; tonight, at The Tuppenny as part of their regular acoustic Thursday Night Music Club series, no less!

So plans were hastily made, necessitating my wife’s return from a theatre afternoon in Bristol to allow a curious Logan and myself to head up the hill about 8.30, wandering in the ‘Tupp as and standing by the door, house left, as opener Sienna Wileman was still in the early stages of her set. A young songstress herself, she resembled Bernard Black’s “Summer girl” from “Black Books” and, backed up by her dad on guitar, a decent line in melodic, rootsy folky tuneage, with an upbeat “Make Memories” and a melancholic “3 a.m. Thoughts” notable numbers. Possessor also of a fair set of pipes, apparently, as a mid-set “Petals” featured a strident middle-8 build powered by some equally overt vocals from Sienna, prompting Logan to take a step back!

John Hare, the talented multi-instrumentalist from Nick’s False Alarms and evidently doing Parker double-shift duty as a member of Flo’s Escape Lane, recognised us as the reprobates who’d bothered him for a set-list last Saturday (!) and popped over for a brief chat, also promising us his and Flo’s front row seats when they were due to set up! We happily took them up on their offer, grabbing said spot at the end of Sienna’s set and chatting between sets with promoter Ed, doing mixing desk duties to our right. Flo, John and guitarist Nick, the acoustic iteration of the 5-piece full-band Escape Lane, then eased into opener “Perfection”, a melancholic stripped-back number which for me had tinges of R.E.M.’s “Drive”. “Erased”, another delicate slice of pastoral melancholy which featured a circular keyboard refrain from John recalling Sigur Ros’ “Hippipola”, followed in short order, and “Magpie” featured some lovely 3-part harmonies from the band. 

The set was largely drawn from Flo’s album, which, fleshed out by a full band production, should really sound like a Madder Rose or a Sundays, wistful slow-burn yet intelligently crafted Americana folk clashing with introspective, understated and delicate indie; so, happily, pretty much as advertised! And Flo’s voice is lovely, a clear lilting innocent Mary Lorson-like tone giving extra credence to that Madder Rose comparison (for me, at least), and shown to its best effect at close quarters such as the Tupp. Nice line in covers too; 4 thrown in tonight to flesh out the set to 13 songs, including a heartfelt cover of Del Amitri’s “Move Away Jimmy Blue” (which I saw the Dels do themselves, way back in 1987 – gig 91! – before our paths diverged) and a totally apposite Death Cab For Cutie number, the understated heartbreak of “Tiny Vessels”, Flo in particular gushing about seeing DCFC in August at All Points East…

The pastoral “High Horse” closed out a delightful little set, a fine introduction to Flo’s music and one which will definitely prompt me to catch the full band in future. Bought the album (of course), then had a chat with Flo and John about my Del Amitri-bothering 80’s past, before quick farewells to sundry folks (including Ben Sydes, a spectator tonight) and a swift drive home before Logan’s kebab got cold! Quite a different “live” experience from last Saturday, then, but good to see Flo demonstrating that her dad’s not got the monopoly on talent and strong songwriting in the Parker family!

1,319 NICK PARKER AND THE FALSE ALARMS, Siobhan and The Sunset Haze, The Lost Post, Winchester The Railway Inn, Saturday 23rd March 2024

 

If Nick Parker had half the voracious “live” work ethic as his former Company Of Thieves bandmate Gaz Brookfield, he’d likely be right up there atop my “most seen” list with the Bard of Purton; as it is, tonight represents the 9^th time we’ve crossed paths, which at least elevates him to 40-somethingth on said list… This affable and talented tunesmith surprised us all by slipping out a new original album at the end of last year in “Ow Denny Rayne and the Jistal Parts”, his first such since 2017 and once again, a masterpiece of beautifully crafted, varied and accomplished indie-folk with the Parker trademarks of warm humour, intricately observational Dury/ Squeeze-esque lyricism and easy melodic earworm hooks. And in “Living Again”, a gem of a song, for me likely his best yet and one which firmly encapsulated my mood at the end of 2023, following a couple of turbulent years. Time to fall in love with living again, indeed!

And part of this process would of course be a Nick Parker gig, particularly with his equally accomplished band The False Alarms. The “Nick Parker should probably tour tour” only featured a smattering of full band gigs, however, a couple too early for me to drive to due to my knee op, and the Winchester Railway Inn Saturday gig featuring an 18+ caveat. Boo! However, a word in the ear of accommodating promoter Jack got Logan in (thanks Jack!), so we hit the road for a circuitous cross-country drive down, dumping the motor in the station car park after a bit of confusion and enjoying some pre-gig nosh in Turtle Bay in town. Back to the evocative old pub to join the queue to get into the small, black-painted side venue; with most tickets sold, this one might get sweaty… Openers The Lost Post were on at 8.15; a 3 piece led by a tall cowboy-hatted vocalist, they plied a decent trade in dark Spaghetti Western or Coen Brothers soundtrack murder ballads, recalling (to my ears at least) the likes of Violent Femmes, the baroque atmospherics of 60’s band Love and even Neutral Milk Hotel in parts. Intriguing and a decent start. 

Better was to come however in main support Siobhan and The Sunset Haze, a 5-piece led by the aforementioned Siobhan, a tiny but chatty hippie chick who led her charges onstage, lamenting her recent absence from gigging due to a broken foot (I know the feeling, dear…). She exhorted us all to dance to their bright, fiddly diddly hoedown opener, but “Raise Your Glass”, second number in, was much more in my wheelhouse, an unexpected power-chord propelled punky emo stomper with a soaring hook belted out by the vocalist. Impressive. The subsequent set was enjoyably varied too, with “Drunken Carnival” a robust indie folk banger with a stream-of-consciousness chorus, and another “angry song” following “Lilies”, an understated ballad. “Witching Hour” answered the burning question as to what an 80’s goth Steeleye Span would sound like (!), and overall, this young band left a very favourable impression indeed… 

We kept our places down the front, despite working up a sweat in this now-packed little room just by standing there! Nick greeted us on his way onstage to set up, and I chatted briefly about what “Living Again” meant to me. In short order, however, he and the band were ready to go, kicking off at 9.30 with the beautiful lyrical detail and climactic musical build of “Departures”, dedicated, rather tongue in cheek, to “anyone who’s flown here today…”! Thereafter we were treated to a mammoth 1 hour 50 set (!) encompassing the breadth of Nick’s oeuvre, delivered with warmth and open heartedness by a gregarious, engaging (and newly svelte!) performer, ably backed by his brilliantly virtuoso team of musicians, particularly the two instrument-swapping Johns, Messrs’ Leonard and Hare, who varied between tin whistle, squeezebox, banjo and keys, often within the same song! “Maison D’Etre” was preceded by Nick commenting on Logan’s Pit Viper sunglasses, then referencing the pitch of the recent London crowd, who sang louder than his monitors and came across like, “a wedding party singing “Take On Me”!” “Don’t Play The Kerryman” was a delightful drinking song swayalong, but the subsequent “Living Again” was my set highlight, stark, emotive and epic in equal measure, including a subtle nod to me from Nick. Nice one – thanks Nick.

 “After All”, the, “angry teenager song I wrote in 1994!” recalled Sugar’s “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” in its’ breathless undulating groove; Nick’s niece joined him onstage for a touching duet to “Guess I’ll Never Know”; and late newie “Dolly Parton” had tinges of “Sgt. Pepper” Beatles off-kilter psych. Nick then eschewed the encore malarkey (“we’ve all got homes to go to – actually we’re going out out tonight!”), delivering a solo nostalgic “Half Of The Moon” before the inevitable and insanely jolly “Es Tut Mir Leid” and a frantic instrumental hoedown, the discordant opening and dramatic sweep of “Half A Song For Suzy” then closing out proceedings. Without a barrier to lean on, my knee had been barking at me for much of the last hour, but I’m glad I stuck it out, although we left promptly after a brief merch desk chat with Siobhan and fond farewells from the Star of the Show, limping down to the car park for a swift drive home. Great gig, possibly the best I’ve seen from Nick and Co. Here’s hoping for plenty more in future!

1,318 THE PIXIES, The Pale White, London O2 Kentish Town Forum, Saturday 16th March 2024

 

Barely 2 months after delivering one of their most stellar performances at Cardiff Arena last March (gig1,270), veteran Boston sleazoid alt-rock pioneers The Pixies announced another slew of UK dates… and this time, unusually, they told everyone what they were going to play! Three sets of 3-night stands across the UK, including a first London date on a Saturday, promising full run-throughs of their lesser-known but still seminal original 4^th and 5^th albums (presuming you’re counting “Come On Pilgrim” as album 1, which I am), “Bossanova” and “Trompe Le Monde”. Excellent! I immediately booked tix for nascent Pixies devotee Logan and myself for said Saturday, anticipating a boys’ day out oop the Smoke. However, my knee op not only put a potential spanner in those works, but also gave me a goal – to be fit to drive to this one, just 7 weeks after the op! Thankfully my recovery was swift, and I got the go-ahead from the physio on Wednesday to get back to normal activities. So, an afternoon oop the Smoke, at least…

 We left at 12.30, suffering M4 closures which shipped us up at our booked parking spot just round the corner from the venue at 3.30, then found Kentish Town tube was shut till Summer, necessitating a walk down to Camden! Shopping and street vendor tea at Camden Lock later, we hit the O2 Priority queue 45 minutes before doors, grabbing a barrier spot house left on entry; the knee had held up well from the drive and unexpected hike to Camden, but I didn’t want to take any chances! Chatted to fellow front row punters – including a similar veteran set-list grabber who’d read my blog! – before openers The Pale White, dead on 8. “Panic Attack” their second number in, was a muscular and hard-edged rocker, and an eerie mid-set “Nostradamus” featured some Interpol-esque guitar riffs, but otherwise there was little to commend their average at best, and plodding at worst, post-grungy set. Well, apart from the drummer’s antics, that is…

 The place filled to capacity during the interval; no surprise really as this date was sold out in a day or so, and represented probably the smallest venue I’ve ever seen The Pixies, certainly the smallest since their 2003 reunion… Roadies laid down multi-page set-lists (surprise, surprise!) and I hazarded an interval loo trip, squeezing through the crammed masses back to our barrier spot just as Black Francis led the troops (including brand-new and very tall bassist Emma Richardson) onstage to a suitably eerie backing track. And, surprise, surprise again, he spoke to us! Giving us a heads-up on tonight’s performance and the genesis behind tonight’s opening song (“the story began in 1893…!”), Francis then led us headlong into the spaghetti Western surf-punk instrumental “Cecilia Ann”, kicking off the “Bossanova” run-through. Unfortunately, the guitars sounded a little off initially, somewhat discordant and fighting against the mix, with Joey Santiago stamping furiously on various pedals from his copious floor bank in front of us to rectify matters. However, by the tremendous, rampant “Allison”, things sounded completely sorted, and thereafter Pixies were flying.

Both “Bossanova” and “Trompe Le Monde” are very varied and almost scattergun stylistically and tonally, the former the smoother, more melodic, almost hazily dreampop, and the latter more abrasive, harsher and grungier. One would therefore expect the set, particularly the lesser played tracks, to feel a little uneven at times. However, after the guitar mix-affected first section, there were very few lowlights and actually a tumbling cascade of highs; “Hang Wire” was an excellent sinister goth march (preceded by Francis announcing, rather macabrely, “I lost a tooth or two during the pandemic and saved them so I could put them in my guitar!”), “Stormy Weather” was a fantastic anthemic change-of-pace soaring singalong and the best of the “Bossanova” tracks for me, and after a slightly restrained “Planet Of Sound”, “Alec Eiffel” was a frenzied slasher movie of a track, really kicking the “TLM” rendition into gear. However, the subsequent “Head On” eclipsed even that; Francis gave props to the Reid brothers before launching into a quite brilliant galloping rendition of their Jesus And Mary Chain surf-punk classic, easily my highlight of the night. Surf punk perfection!

 The languid verse and fierce college roar of “UMass”, the gabbled, stream-of-consciousness vocals of “Subbacultcha” and the old school Pixies death march of “Motorway To Roswell” (Francis admitting, “thank you for the appropriation [on this song], we don’t have motorways!”) were other “TLM” highlights, before the albums run-through concluded and time allowed for an eerie “Slow Wave Of Mutilation”, an equally slowed down “Nimrod’s Son” (still featuring the audience baying back the call and response “Son of a mother-fucker!!!” hook), and a double false start to eventual closer, the poppy light touch of “Here Comes Your Man”, before the band as usual took in a lengthy and thoroughly deserved ovation. No lists (I tried; the head roadie said, “we’re saving the planet by reusing them!” which for the first night of 3 at the same venue seemed fair enough…), so Logan (who’d been in the mosh since 3^rd number “Velouria”) and I headed off promptly, a much easier drive home seeing us back in the ‘don before 1. I have to confess it did feel a little weird knowing what The Pixies were going to play next, but great to hear them go off the beaten track and spotlight their lesser-known works. And “Head On” was worth the admission price alone. So once again, all hail The Pixies!

1,317 STIFF LITTLE FINGERS, Glen Matlock, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 13th March 2024

 

After a year’s pause, it’s Stiff Little Fingers’ “Mad March to Bristol” time again! I actually gave this one a very very late call indeed, only booking tix at the end of February as there was a slight possibility that my recovery from my recent knee replacement op might be sufficiently swift to allow me to drive up to Birmingham for the clashing Echo and the Bunnymen gig. I’m recovering quickly, but not that quickly, however, and not wishing to jeopardise my pre-set plans to drive to London this coming Saturday for The Pixies’ gig with Logan, I happily went for this alternative, joining “The Big Man” for an almost annual excursion of late – 16 times in 20 years we’d been to see these original anthemic politico-punks, and my 21^st time overall!

We were also joined by old mate Olly, Rich scooping him up from Covingham then fetching me at 7 p.m. for a breakneck hurtle down the M4, parking up after a little difficulty in Trenchard Level 7. Support Glen Matlock was already part-way through his set; punk rock royalty he may be (being the original bassist with The Sex Pistols – but you knew that already of course…), and in suave, “gor blimey guv,” good nick for his age too, but unfortunately the set, based mainly on his recent “Consequences Coming” release, was average journeyman fayre at best, lumpen pub rock at worst. “Which Side Are You On” was a decent rocker, but for me the subsequent cover of k.d. lang’s “Constant Craving”, whilst laudable (“it’s about making a better world,” argued Matlock) was dull and monotone, and Richard Hell’s “Blank Generation” fared little better. However, the unmistakeable guitar intro to arguably the Pistols’ best song “Pretty Vacant” rose head and shoulders above the set, even with the extended chantalong outro, and the descending intro hook of closer “Head On A Stick” was easily the best of the newies. Matlock left us with the cry of, “thanks, and don’t forget – Fuck The Tories!” which again endeared him to the crowd. I liked him; his set, not so much…

The place got much busier in our usual house left spot as, for some bizarre reason, they played Abba over the p.a. Bah! I greeted friend Martin in the photo pit just before the lights dropped… and Val Doonican’s “Walk Tall” rang out loudly on the p.a.! “If the band walk onstage to this, I’m booing them!” I threatened to Rich, but happily it finished and The Greatest Intro Music in Rock, the pounding drum and roof-raising “diddly-doo!” singalong of “Go For It” thankfully heralded Stiff Little Fingers onstage, the bald, rotund and imposing figure of bandleader Jake Burns greeting us with the usual, “y’allright?” before launching into an incendiary “Suspect Device”, followed by surprising oldie “State Of Emergency” and a fist-pumping “Fly The Flag”. Excellent start, at least…

Burns then announced tonight’s intent to switch up the set a little and play some more unfamiliar tracks, kicking off with the strident hook of newie and tour slogan “Hate Has No Home Here” (“if hate is our default position [when we disagree with someone] then we’re all totally fucked!”). As if to prove the point of this song, Burns then dealt with a disagreement in the mosh (“here’s an idea; one of you fuck off over there and one of you stay here!”) before a fine, undulating “Silver Lining” and frankly groovy “Just Fade Away”. “Roots Radicals” was a tremendous early set highlight as well (“time to murder another unsuspecting reggae classic,” deadpanned Burns by way of introduction), but (and I hate to say this, given that I totally agreed with the idea of shaking up the set, after, as I mentioned, seeing them 16 times in the last 20 years here!) a few of the lesser played numbers in the mid-set didn’t measure up for me, particularly “Love Of The Common People”, which dragged…

Time to claw it back, then, and “Strummerville” (preceded by a tribute from Burns to his hero and Clash leader Joe; “I never wanted to be him, I just wanted to conduct myself like him…”) raised the game; the double whammy of an apt “Nobody’s Hero” and the excellent if truncated “Tin Soldiers” maintained; then savage set closer “Gotta Getaway” was easily the highlight of the night, launching into gear with Burns’ cry of, “go on ya fuckers!” Encores of a swaying, skanking “Doesn’t Make It Alright” and the inevitable “Alternative Ulster” closed out a variable performance which actually was very worthwhile overall, and quite excellent when it really hit the heights. A swift exit and drive back got me home for 11.30. Fine night out overall in splendid company… I don’t know if Stiff Little Fingers have many more Mad Marches left in them, but if they do, then I guess we probably do as well…!

1,316 PETE WYLIE AND THE MIGHTY WAH!, Bristol Exchange, Friday 1st March 2024

 

Another one that required a bit of (relatively) last-minute intervention… I’d booked this one ages ago, relishing a rare opportunity to see one of my 80’s Liverpool post-punk “rockist” icons, the effervescent motormouth and haphazard musical genius that is Pete Wylie, tread the boards, particularly at such close quarters as Bristol’s excellent scuzzy little Exchange, and also apparently delivering a career spanning retrospective set in support of a new “Best Of” compilation. However, the proximity of my recent knee replacement surgery precluded me from being able to drive, I couldn’t find anyone else keen to join me, and by the time I’d sweet-talked my dear lady wife into both coming along and arranging sitting for the daughter of the house, the damn thing had sold out! Bah! Luckily, a pleading note on Pete’s Facebook page elicited a couple of favourable responses (including one from the man himself!), including a kind offer of a free spare ticket from a fellow punter. So, all systems go!

 An early departure to drop Jami off, and a trundle down into very foreboding dark skies nonetheless saw Rach and I park up opposite the venue in relatively dry conditions, meeting up with our saviour Emma (AKA Flo) and her brother-in-law Russ. Bought them both a drink (the least I could do, really…!) and enjoyed some gig chat before doors opened, and Rach and I grabbed a bit of wall bench, house left. My first post-op gig without crutches, but I’m still not sure about standing up for 2 hours! No support, so we watched the place fill up with old rockist musos – never mind Rachel, even I felt quite young in this crowd!

 The band wended their way through the crowd and took the stage just after 8, Pete on last, resplendent in gold patterned shirt, silver trousers and feathered steampunk hat, and looking like my equally rotund and grey-goateed old friend Paul Crowfoot these days. “That was horrible trying to get [through the crowd] to the stage; I almost had to touch people!” the man quipped, before thanking Johnny Thunders for writing, “the story of my life,” the poignant acoustic opener “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory”. The widescreen classic “Come Back” was next up, the build to the huge hook both soaring and strident, and bouncing, breathless oldie “Remember” followed in short order, Pete commenting (not for the last time), “the record company said this would be a massive hit – they were wrong!”

 This pretty much set the tone for the set; a startlingly quick 2 hours of Wylie and Wah! classics through the years, delivered by a competent if slightly restrained band (Pete rated them, anyway, praising then with, “I love this band – proof you can buy cheap and do okay!”) and Pete’s own authoritative tones, peppered with plenty of quickfire wit, chat and storytelling from a genuinely warm, stand-up level funny and maverick one-off. A taut, claustrophobic “Better Scream” was preceded by a story about its’ Sounds singles review; “Hope” was dedicated to our gig saviour (“this one’s for Flo – it’s called, “Fuck Off Flo”!”), and the excellent “Sinful” was followed by a story of Pete nicking a clock from the Top Rank club on the Clash tour to give to Clash guitarist Mick Jones for his birthday, during his last visit to Bristol! Some serious moments amongst the chat too; Pete sharing his experiences of his recent ADHD diagnosis with an understanding crowd, talking about volunteering at the food bank at The Florrie (Pete totally nailing it with his comment, “the best thing we can do is look out for each other; I have a saying; give a shit or be a shit!”), and saving some righteous anger for an old adversary, preceding the jolly, celebratory “The Day That Margaret Thatcher Dies” with, “this is a love song because I love good people and still hate her!”

 The slow-burn, sweeping stately melancholy of “Heart As Big As Liverpool”, my overall set highlight, was dedicated by Pete to his old friend and Radio DJ Janice Long, with a genuinely affecting story about their last conversation; the tense, galloping “7 Minutes To Midnight” was about as rocking as it got tonight; then, “the moment when you realise you could have just turned up now!” arrived, with inevitable set closer “The Story Of The Blues”, a top 3 hit when that actually meant something, and a fine way to end a celebration of a quite unique, charismatic and brilliant genius. Simply superb stuff from the man.

 Grabbed a copy of that afore-mentioned “Best Of” at the merch stand, then bade farewell to Emma and Russ before hitting the road for a drizzly drive home. Really glad we were able to make it for this one, so thanks again to Emma for the spare ticket… a great night out!