1,388 TONY VISCONTI AND WOODY WOODMANSEY’S HOLY HOLY, Bristol O2 Academy, Friday 30th May 2025

 

So, once again the age-old question rears its’ head… is it a “tribute” band if there’s still one of the original members still on board? And, in this particular instance, do I give a shit either way?!

David Bowie’s “Life On Mars” was the first song which made me prick up my ears at age 7, his music subsequently influencing pretty much every musical phase, genre or type I’d been into since. I got to see the Great Man just the once, in 2003 on his final “Reality” tour (gig 617), for one of the best gigs of my life, and I’ve even attended a couple of Bowie tribute gigs down the years (!). This one, however, was no mere “tribute”, at least in the current “pub back room covers band” sense of the word; featuring a duo of former Bowie backing boys in ex-Spiders From Mars drummer Mick “Woody” Woodmansey, and longtime bassist and producer Tony Visconti, Holy Holy are a “supergroup” ensemble cast dedicated to keeping the works of the original musical innovator, re-inventor and chameleonic genius alive onstage. And starring on vocals was none other than Glenn Gregory, 80’s synth survivors Heaven 17’s stylish frontman lending his delicious baritone to the Thin White Duke’s works. A match made in rock heaven, surely? I snapped up tix for me and my gig buddy son (and increasing rock student, if his frequent plays of Jonathan Richman and The Velvet Underground are anything to go by!) Logan pronto, for what promised to be a proper Bowie celebration…

Mindful of last night’s M4 traffic plus plenty else going on near the O2, we headed off early for an easier than anticipated run, joining the O2 priority queue and getting barrier spots, house right on entry, next to chatty and excitable mother and daughter duo Jude and Liv early doors, then my old friend Ben and his lovely wife Brinda later. Much rock chat ensued, the intended 8.30 start passing by, before the lights dimmed, the photo pit boys popped out (affording us a brief conversation with old friend and lensman maestro Martin), and the 8-piece Holy Holy took the stage to the austere synth strains of Bowie’s “Low” period masterpiece “Warszawa”. Gregory, stylish in black and hastily discarded white sports jacket, sashayed onstage last as the band then burst into the tempo-changing and undulating early deep-cut psych-folk collision of “Width Of A Circle”. He was immediately the focal point, a showman, expansive of gesture and deep and authoritative of voice, but he laudably deflected attention to Messrs. Visconti and Woodmansey (“the last Spider From Mars!”), before announcing, “I’m a massive David Bowie fan – as you all are – but I have the privilege of standing up here with this motherfucker [brandishing his mic]!” 

T'was a privilege he did not squander; relating the story of his first meeting with Visconti who immediately told him, “There’s quite a bit of David in your voice!”, Gregory was the perfect man for this job, leading this virtuoso band through a set happily drawn primarily from Bowie’s utterly flawless 70’s canon. An early, fulsome and muscular “Ziggy Stardust”, the ultimate glam (goth?) anthem, was followed by Gregory incredulously exclaiming, “I can’t wrap my head around that Woody did that [with Bowie] for real!”; “Time”’s off-kilter claustrophobic 30’s music hall staccato cabaret dance was unsettling and sweeping in equal measure; and “Changes” was a quite magnificent early highlight, blending introspective melancholy and anthemic joy. The slightly frail looking Visconti (no surprise, as he’s topping 81!) then took centre stage, having learned “slap bass” for the skewed Neo-New Romanticisms of “Ashes To Ashes”, then the ebullient doo-wop and soaring chorus of “Drive In Saturday” (a number reminding Gregory of a long hot Summer in Sheffield – “yes there was one!” – with his first girlfriend) was another unexpected highlight, and an earworm which remained with me for days afterwards. A lyric slipup from Gregory during the eerie strum of “Space Oddity” necessitated a restart (“just press erase!” he demanded of the phone recorders in the crowd), the man flicking the “V”s at the cheering punters as he nailed the lyric second time around. But the playful mood switched to sombre reflection as, much like “Dreams Of Leaving” during that brilliant Gregory-led Heaven 17 first 2 Human League albums performance (gig 1,189), the elegiac post-apocalyptic “Ziggy” opener “Five Years” was stunning, a lugubrious and haunting build to a climactic rage against the dying of the light, Gregory delivering his best and most expressive vocal of the night. 

The set highlight, however, was reserved for one song and one song only; Gregory shared a painful memory of touring with Holy Holy at the time of Bowie’s death in 2016, Tony Visconti (one of a very small inner circle who knew of the extent of Bowie’s illness) advising that if they carried on, it would be with the Great Man’s blessing; so they did, albeit initially to tearful audiences, particularly for one number… The unmistakeable sole piano note of “Life On Mars” then led into a breathtakingly beautiful version of likely The Greatest Song Ever Written, Woodmansey’s drum build to the skyscraping chorus and that high out-note (nailed perfectly by Gregory) strident and potent, the heartfelt singalong all-inclusive and communal. Wow. You know, just one of those moments when all you can say is… Wow.

The cosmic psych-folk of “Moonage Daydream” rounded off the set proper, Gregory commenting on my “H17 play Reproduction and Travelogue” tee from the aforementioned gig 1,189 as he took the stage for the encore, so I couldn’t resist retorting, “I just love hearing you sing other people’s songs!” The potent backbeat of fist-pumping glam anthem “Rebel Rebel”, featuring a stellar hard-hitting performance from Woodmansey, working over his snare with the vigour of a man a third his 75 years (!), drew the music to a close, although both Visconti and Woodmansey then took centre stage to pay their tributes to their departed friend, and thank we the crowd for keeping his legacy alive. Farewells to our gig companions then, before a friendly roadie sorted me with Gregory’s own list; we then lurked around a brief while in the foyer and were happily rewarded with Mr. Woodmansey himself making an appearance, so we managed a quick word, signature and pics with a true rock’n’roll legend. Result! Late home after midnight with another late kebab tea in tow, but this one was well worth the lost sleep. Bowie’s ground-breaking imprint, influence and sheer force of presence and personality resonates down the years and still permeates through everything that is challenging, innovative and worthwhile in music. And tonight, his old friends and comrades, along with their brilliantly chosen musical companions, did the great man total justice, delivering the ultimate tribute to the ultimate innovator himself; David Bowie!

1,387 SPORTS TEAM, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Thursday 29th May 2025

 

Another of those entertaining Rough Trade “in-Stores”, this, and this time it’s for one of Logan’s favourites, upbeat and swaggering post-millennial indie roustabouts Sports Team. We’d caught them a couple of times in 2022, firstly at our Victorious Festival day trip (gig 1,240) and a month later at this very venue, pushing their then-current album “Gulp” (gig 1,244) and marking Logan’s first ever participation in a moshpit! Unfortunately, we’d not had the chance to catch them since, but as soon as I heard about this one, I remembered that the last such event here had sold out so booked immediately. Good thing too, as tix for this one flew out too, prompting the band to add a matinee as well! 

So, this gig was again in support of a new release; their 3^rd full-length, “Boys These Days” which came out earlier this week. I’d only heard snatches of the new material prior to this gig, particularly leadoff track “I’m In Love (Subaru)” which marks a definite departure from their knockabout Britpop-inflected, slightly trad but catchy upbeat singalong indie, and into a smoother, synth- and saxophone embellished radio-friendly 80’s sound – if I’m feeling kind, I’d say reminiscent of Prefab Sprout or even personal favourites Furniture or Big Dish; if not, Hall And Oates! However, in a current “indie” landscape seemingly smothered by cookie-cutter homogenous shouty and laddish indie landfill bands (Ks, Rosadocs, Lathums, Sherlocks et al), I admire them for trying a different approach, but is this a bit too radical a shift? Would they lose their slightly naughty boy charm in the process? And, most fundamentally of all, would it be any good? Questions, questions… 

Logan and I pondered this whilst listening to the new album on the way down, breaking one of my gigging rules in the process, that being… don’t listen to the band you’re going to see on the way there! Still, t’was Logan’s shout, and it was a pretty decent listen, if lower-key than previous releases, and featuring one particularly startling departure from their previous buoyant and boyish oeuvre (more on that later). So, hopes were buoyed as we hit a practically deserted Rough Trade shop at 6.45 – no wonder, everyone was already in the venue! Had a poke around before joining the crowd at 7.15 and squeezing into a viewing spot halfway back, house right against the side curtain, for a hot and uncomfortable wait. I’d noticed that our CDs, collected on entry, were all pre-signed, but a quick chat with ST bassist Oli Dewdney in the RT café after a last-minute loo dash revealed this was just to save time, as one of the band had to catch the last train without fail to get home for their 5 month old baby, but the band were still doing meet and greet afterwards. So! 

Anyhoops, back in for Sports Team’s onstage arrival at 20 to 8 to the backing track of Meat Loaf’s “Bat Out Of Hell”! Yipe! Nonetheless, they set to their task with their usual vigour and enthusiasm, ultimately packing 9 songs into a performance clocking in at just over 35 minutes! “Gulp” standout “The Drop” opened, then the Woodentopsy rockabilly Wild West vibe of “Bang Bang Bang” saw vocalist Alex Rice don a cowboy hat to deliver the gabbling, galloping lyric. “Apologies for the voice,” he pleaded, “this is the final one of 23 shows in 6 days!” The Violent Femmes-like descending bass of frantic oldie “Camel Crew” saw a circle pit form to our left, so I rather predictably lost Logan at this point; “Subaru” followed, all louche and Sprout-tastic, yet still possessing a big hook sung back by Logan and his mosh cohorts; and Alex requested one last chart push for the new album (“peel off all the “Brit-nominated” stickers and put them on it!”), bigging up Ron Mael-like pianist Ben Mack before the keys-led and expansive, Blur-like new album title track. 

Dynamic and punky oldie “Here’s The Thing” was one final clarion call to arms for the mosh; then Alex thanked the attendees and announced, “one more song”, so I found Logan in the mosh to get him to meet me in the queue, before listening to the closer at the back. Said number, “When I’m 30” was the one I’d alluded to earlier; a real departure, this, all brooding, introspective and moody in both atmosphere and its’ “coming of age” lyricism, building along its early-Pulp-esque length into a symphonic and quite lovely climactic outro. Quite possibly my favourite Sports Team song, then, and a fitting finale to this ST sampler! 

I grabbed an early spot in the queue as my breathless and dishevelled son joined me; a quick chat and pics with a bullish and chatty band later, we were back in the car before 8.30, and home, late tea kebab wraps in tow, before ¼ to 10! Looking forward to getting to know “Boys These Days” better now, which promises to be an admirable new attempt to widen the Sports Team musical brief. Hope it works. Good luck to them!

1,386 IST IST, Oliver Marson, Southampton Joiner's Arms, Thursday 22nd May 2025

 

(Not mine, but a placeholder for one I'm expecting through the post...!)

Happy World Goth Day! And, after a turbulent day today, I was in need of the healing power of some brooding, Goth-adjacent post-punk rock’n’roll from recent find Ist Ist. I’d picked up on their 4^th album “Light A Bigger Fire” last year and caught a splendid rousing performance at Bristol Exchange last October (gig 1,352), which also included a lengthy post-gig chat with knowledgeable bassist and then-birthday boy Andy Keating. So that was enough in itself to shoehorn them onto my gig radar for future tours, especially if any such tours include a gig at likely my favourite current venue, Southampton’s Joiner’s Arms! 

So,, a solo shlep down the M4/ A34 on this sunny Thursday evening got me road-parked up a stone’s throw from the venue about 20 to 8, and in a slightly different house left spot in this evocative old pub back room. I’d been feeling a little, erm, uncomfortable on the drive down, maybe as a result of the day, so I thought a house left spot in easier reach of the, erm, facilities, would be prudent, and so it transpired… Anyhoops, I was in place for opener Oliver Marson at 8. A solo vocalist/ guitarist with a computer full of backing tracks flashing out a very 80’s radio-friendly AOR synth-poppy sound which, when decent, recalled the likes of Tears For Fears, Talk Talk’s chart singles and, most obviously OMD (his “Past Life” being very “Electricity”), only actually not as good as that sounds. The material itself was a bit dodgy and haphazard – odd chord changes providing a bumpy transition between verses and choruses, for example – which rather wasted a rather decent Glenn Gregory-esque baritone voice and Andy McClusky-like dancing. 

A necessary comfort break still saw me keep my front-row spot, extreme house left, as the place filled to capacity. Quite the sausage-fest too, black-clad balding/greying old muso chaps proliferating… so, my people…! The similarly black-clad Ist Ist were ushered onstage by security, vocalist Adam leading the band into the growling intro and pounding dynamic punk-rock drumbeat of opener “Stamp You Out”, followed by the more metronomic Interpol-esque “Lost My Shadow” and slower, stately and haunting marble statue synth of “Something Else”. The taut low-slung bass-led Joy Division-isms of oldie “Silence” followed, after which the leather jacket and Ray-Ban clad impossibly cool bassist Andy remarked, “there’s fucking loads of you! I’m as hot as I’ve ever been in my life… but as a professional, I’m going to persevere with the leather…!” 

Fair play to him, so he did, the glasses coming off a couple of numbers before the end but the jacket remaining in situ throughout. And this commitment to insouciant rock’n’roll cool was underlined by his and his bandmate’s performance tonight… simply put, Ist Ist were ace! Okay, their dark, dramatic and brooding Goth-tinged post-punk material is slap bang in the middle of my wheelhouse, evoking the 80’s likes of Joy Division, Echo And The Bunnymen and The Chameleons, so would work for me in any format, but “live” it takes on added widescreen power and dynamism and, well, just makes more sense, particularly in a tight, sweaty and evocative venue such as The Joiners. The New Order synth flourish of the tremendous “I Can’t Wait For You” rounded off a brilliant opening 5-spot, but honestly there was no discernible drop-off in either song quality or commitment of delivery thereafter. “Something Has To Give” featured an abrupt gearshift from moody and slow-burn to fast and frantic; newie “Burning” had an almost swampy blues feel in its’ guitar riffery, a slight departure from their usual post-punk template; and “Dreams Aren’t Enough” was proper Bunny-esque in its’ stately sense of space. A robotic “Makes No Difference” was my favourite of the 3 newies on show, Adam thanking us for paying attention to them (“I know they’re often a convenient piss break!”), then “Hope To Love Again” was the poppiest number on show, evoking late period White Lies. Compliments from the band then preceded a final “Slowly We Escape”, the synth-led and elegiac opening bursting into thrilling punk rock life before accelerating to a thunderous finish, rounding off a marvellous set. 

The front row lists went early, of course, and the drummer’s list was handed to a stage-side chap, seemingly destined for someone else, despite my entreatments to said gent. Fair enough, I thought, no harm in asking anyway… However, a couple of days later, the self-same bloke (the Joiners’ manager, as it happens!) posted on the Ist Ist facebook page seeking out “the bloke from Southampton who was desperate for a list!”, so I got in touch and was promised a spare through the post. As if I needed another reason to love the Joiner’s any more…! So, easily sloughing off the dead skin of a crappy day, Ist Ist were the perfect antidote and excellent hosts for a World Goth Day Celebration!

1,385 THE PIXIES, Big Special, London O2 Brixton Academy, Saturday 17th May 2025

 

This seems to be becoming a habit, and happily a quite welcome one… for the third year in a row, I get to take my son Logan to see veteran US alt-rock innovators The Pixies! This time it’s a first for me since 2016 (gig 1,012) at their spiritual London home of Brixton Academy, the band promoting another post-reunion album in 2024’s “The Night The Zombies Came”. Another set of jagged and seething garagey grunge and acerbic backwoods psycho-hillbilly riffery and imagery, it’s another pretty decent addition to their post-reformation body of work, whilst still not matching the startling and groundbreaking quality of their 1980’s canon. I guess main man Black Francis just can’t stop churning them out, so carry on mate!

Second night oop the Smoke this week too, and good thing too, having noted on Wednesday that the Piccadilly line was closed today, so our usual Osterley parking plans were out! Instead, we set off just after 3 and drove all the way through London (skirting the Thames, Clapham Common and the Chelsea Flower Show site!) to our intended pre-paid parking spot. However, on arrival, said spot was chaotic and wholly shonky, a rammed and tiny backstreet car wash with no discernible parking spaces in sight, and cars backing in and out with careless impunity. I quickly gave that up as a bad job and drove off, luckily finding a street spot practically across the road from the venue. Result! Had to circumnavigate this cavernous old theatre venue to join the priority queue but we grabbed a barrier spot, house left, on entry. Result two! Chatted with fellow barrier-grabbers, including a gent whom I’d seen at recent Skids and Wedding Present gigs (!), before 2-piece support Big Special kicked off at 8. “This is our new national anthem, it’s called “Shithouse”,” announced the drummer of this 2-piece early doors, which nailed their colours to the mast somewhat! With their relentless thudding taped hardcore backing track and bilious barked polemic lyrics, they struck me as a white Brummie Bob Vylan; no bad thing on the whole, but a bit harder on the ears than Bobby and Bobbie… An early, slower “Coming Around” gave brief respite in its’ gothic Nick Cave-isms, and they finished on their best number “Dig”, a synth pulse backing track overlaid by the frustrations of inner city life, but apart from that I admired their conviction and politics more than their sound…

The Pixies themselves sauntered on at 9 to an eerie backing track, opening with a galloping triad of newies, “You’re So Impatient” with its groovy descending choral hook being the best of this early trio, before a breathless “Planet Of Sound” seemed set to fire the gig into life. Being the contrarian he is, however, Black Francis then switched both guitars (to a time-worn strumalong acoustic) and gears into a sleazier, slower-burn and more Violent Femmes-like backwoods murder ballad vibe, nonetheless pleasing the masses with a jaunty “Here Comes Your Man”, then astonishing this old fan with a low-key but still brilliant reading of “Ed Is Dead”, possibly my favourite Pixies song. Full of surprises tonight, then, the old bugger…! 

More akin to my last time here in 2016, then, this was a return to the usual Pixies trope of whatever the utterly non-communicative Francis is in the mood to play, in whatever order he feels like! So this slower burn early section took us up to another guitar swap for Francis, back to the electric for the sinister build and roaring climax of “Gouge Away”. Logan noticed a nascent mosh to our right, so off he went, and his timing couldn’t have been better, with the strident chimes of a thunderous “Debaser” next up… The place predictably utterly erupted for this, easily tonight’s set highlight, which also heralded a stupendous mid-set moshpit catnip run, including the 4-alarm blare and breathy interlude of a careering “Tame”, the brooding anthemic “Monkey Gone To Heaven”, and an eerie yet excellently off-kilter “Velouria”, guitarist Joey Santiago coaxing squalling noise for its’ intro from his massive bank of pedals.

On went the acoustic again (hey, it’s a marathon, not a sprint!) for a swayalong “Hey”, tall and willowy new bassist Emma Richardson thereafter taking vocals for the more plaintive “In Heaven” and chuntering set closer “Into The White”, by which time I was in the mosh myself, seeking out my offspring. “White” rounded off a mammoth 33-song 2 hours (!) set, Francis then leading the band in a well-deserved bow before we gathered breath, thoughts and dropped keys (!) and hit the road, a slow egress through London onto a clear M4 getting us home about 1.15. So, in stages frustrating, contrary, unpredictable, quixotic, incendiary and quite quite brilliant, this was as ever a typical Pixies gig... But let’s face it; if they want to keep coming back as regularly as recently and delivering these types of performances, I guess so will we…!

1,384 RIALTO, DESPERATE JOURNALIST, London Scala, Wednesday 14th May 2025

 

Yup, it was next up… after their splendid acoustic Rough Trade set, last time out, I booked to see returning stylish post-Britpop glam-dram purveyors Rialto at their headlining London show. I mean, I didn’t need too much persuasion anyway; if another dose of their widescreen 60’s inflected kitchen sink drama soundtrack music (amply displayed on their very listenable new “reunion” album “Neon And Ghost Signs”) wasn’t enough, then there was also the identity of their support… only Fierce Panda label-mates Desperate Journalist, who as we know are pretty much as good as it gets right now for UK bands, their insouciant goth-Smiths vibe particularly soaring in the “live” environment. A slightly odd couple, this, labelmates rather than soundalikes, but both are well within my wheelhouse, so a midweek shlep up the Smoke it is!

I hit the road at 4 straight from the office for a good run, parking up in Osterley and tubing over to Kings Cross for 6.30. Doors at 7, so I joined a modest queue, then grabbed a not-to-be-relinquished barrier spot house right, chatting to some fellow front row punters to take us up to Desperate Journalist’s emergence, prompt at 7.30 for this early one. Kicking off with the dramatic Simple Minds “Sons”-esque bass-led slow burn build into the plangent chorus of “Everything You Wanted”, then juxtaposing that with the dismissive snark of the bouncy “Why Are You So Boring?”, it was clear from the off that this was a band in a hurry tonight, keen to take this one-off opportunity and slam-dunk it big time. All elements in perfect synchronicity as ever, but props to the solid driving bass of Simon Drowner, the foundation upon which the Desperate Journalist sound is built, as well as the strident vocal performance (rising above an initially slightly echoey vocal mix by mid-set) and scary kinetic conviction of wild-eyed vocalist Jo Bevan. She means it, maaaan… 

A brilliantly chosen 10 song DJ vignette showcased all aspects of their dark, goth-tinged post-punk canon, from the “Passion Of Lovers” proto-goth backbeat of “Afraid”, through a slightly understated but still widescreen “Cedars” (which also featured a stellar mid-8 guitar break from Rob), to the beetle-stomping hurtle and circular mid-8 hook of oldie “Cristina”, my highlight tonight. We even got a greeting from the Ice Queen herself, with, “everyone having a good Wednesday?” although this was quickly qualified with, “that’s the extent of my banter…!” A brooding, sweeping “Be Kind”, which featured the usual mid-song pregnant pause, catching most folk out tonight, was followed with set closer “Satellite”, slightly understated and slower paced yet still its’ usual soaring self, to round off a dynamically delivered 45 minutes. Bloody lovely! 

Follow that Rialto! Grabbed a breath after bouncing along to DJ’s set, before a pit photographer asked to take a pic of my Comsat Angels t-shirt; turned out he was best mates with erstwhile CA bassist Kevin Bacon! Then a quick loo break (loads of steps in this place, so this was like climbing the Matterhorn, or taking a piss in Wetherspoons!) nonetheless got me back in place for the full 5-piece band’s onstage arrival, just after their scheduled 8.45. Easing in with glitter-stomp newie “I Want You” and Boo-slightlydelic oldie “Hard Candy”, it was evident that they weren’t out to match their support for sheer dynamism, instead relying on the louche 60’s atmospherics of the material, and their moody yet melodic delivery. An early “Untouchable” was case-in-point; preceded by vocalist Louis wrestling with a water bottle cap then telling a story of seeing The Fall’s Mark Smith do the same one time at Glasto, albeit less successfully (the contents ending up down MES’ leg!), this was shorn of the lush orchestration of the recorded version but still managed to feel soaring and stately, with Louis giving it full beans on the vocal outro. “When We’re Together” was an eerie late night torch song and early highlight, Louis delivering the hook off-mic, before they tried a second album oldie, “London Crawling” coming across all slow burn Ziggy-era Bowie. Backing vocalist Liz joined the band for the Pulp-esque funky stomp drama of “No-one Leaves This Discotheque Alive”; then my set highlight, oldie “Broken Barbie Doll” was euphoric and desolate in equal measure, delivered with insouciant understatement. 

“I’ve always wanted to play this venue!” gushed Louis, also informing us of his mum’s attendance tonight (!), before the most Rialto-sounding of the new numbers, the sweeping 60’s “Put You On Hold”. Eschewing the encore ritual, Louis teasingly asked, “is there another one you want to hear?”, a tremendous “Monday Morning 5.19” sending everyone home early and happy. A quick chat with Fierce Panda boss Simon Williams, then I was off and running, nearly jumping on the wrong tube but turning myself around, home for just before 1. A great night out, then, well worth the midweek shlep; I think the overt oomph of DJ shaded it for me over Rialto’s more considered languid style, but nonetheless 2 contrasting yet equally worthy sets!

1,383 RIALTO, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Sunday 27th April 2025

 

Rialto were one of the most welcome surprises of recent “Shiiine On” festivals, their stellar Saturday night set in 2023 (gig 1,304), allegedly their first in over 21 years, securing them Band of the Day and Top 3 weekend overall honours for me. I’d seen this lot just the once back in the day, as they’d emerged from the ashes of roustabout indie guitar pop combo Kinky Machine (whom I’d also enjoyed “live” a couple of times) into a post-Britpop musical landscape, their sound developing into a more widescreen and orchestral 60’s Scott Walker-esque vibe, coupled with Pulp/ Suede/ Carter USM-esque lyricism full of the kitchen-sink drama, mundane minutae and faded glamour of London (or anywhere, actually…) big city life. Their then-twin drum powered attack blew a sadly-fading Sleeper offstage at the Oasis in 1998 (gig 368), but shortly thereafter they themselves fell off my radar, happily returning with that “Shiiine On” appearance which demonstrated they’d not missed a beat in the intervening years. I’d rather hoped that would amount to something more, so news of a new album, “Neon And Ghost Signs”, and a record store tour promoting said release and kicking off at Bristol’s excellent Rough Trade Records was one not to miss…

Oddly, Brizzle was another lunchtime “do” like Bob Mould’s recent one, so I set off down a sunny M4 about 11.30ish, wandering into a quiet RT and picking up a signed Jesus and Mary Chain book before taking a spot down the front in the back room venue. Rialto themselves – or at least 3 of them, namely guitarist Adam Chetwood, bassist Julian Taylor, and main man and vocalist Louis Eliot, emerged fashionably late at 10 past 1 in front of two-score or so hardy punters, Louis thanking us for coming down “on such a sunny day,” before easing into the set with the slow burn, stripped-back late night torch song newie “Put You On Hold”, thereafter informing us before the hazy sun-dappled Velvet Underground “Sunday Morning” vibe of “Remembering To Forget”, of their previous night out in Glastonbury; “don’t buy tickets, just go on a Saturday night – it’s mental!” 

Thereafter, the Rialto front row boys regaled us with an understated, economically delivered and entirely charming set of mainly new album numbers albeit with a smattering of oldies, the acoustic setting as ever revealing different nuances and elements to the material. The usually widescreen “Untouchable” (“do any of you know the old stuff?” quipped Louis beforehand) took on a brooding, almost menacing bass-led air, Adam contributing hauntingly sparse guitar licks, then “Sandpaper Kisses” was a more typical Rialto-sounding newie, with a melancholic 50’s crooner feel. Louis diplomatically fielded some shout-outs for Kinky Machine songs with, “are my family here or something?” before stark and almost elegiac oldie “Summer’s Over”. Then “Monday Morning 5.19” was again the set highlight for me, losing none of its’ deliciously mournful pathos in this acoustic setting.

A plug for some forthcoming support slots (one with Sleeper again later in the year, tix already booked!) and their own headlining date (at the Scala in May with Desperate Journalist supporting – booked when I got home!) preceded the Bowie-esque intro and naggingly familiar undulating choral hook to new album title track “Neon And Ghost Signs”, then the urbane, affable Louis asked for some audience participation with the Kylie-esque (that’s how I heard it, so I’ve got to say it!) “la la la-la la-la”s for the funky yet sleazoid, mid-period (I’m going “My Legendary Girlfriend”-era here) Pulp-like set closer “No One Leaves This Discotheque Alive”. 

Fine stuff from the mini-Rialto, then, the new numbers happily not falling too far from that haunting and widescreen cinematic oeuvre. Grabbed Adam’s list, then joined the queue to meet Louis at the desk, chatting with some fellow punters before falling to the back of said queue in order to chat with Adam (at some length) and Julian mooching around the store! Louis himself was open and friendly; we discussed the double drum set-up (“an idea which should have stayed in the pub,” according to him!), my previous Kinky Machine and Rialto fandom, and this current “Act 2” for the band (“I was writing new material, and friends said it sounded more like Rialto than anything I’d written recently,” admitted Louis), before bidding farewell for a slightly eventful drive home (nearly blacking out on the M4 thanks to a coughing fit – yikes!), back in the ‘don for 4. So, a welcome back to Rialto, now seemingly on a more permanent footing, and I’m now looking forward to hearing the full-band renditions of the new album stuff… next up in May?

1,382 THE LOTTERY WINNERS, The Valla, Oxford Bullingdon Arms, Sunday 20th April 2025

 

A well deviated-from set-list, thanks to a fellow punter...

Another one, like Inhaler last time out, where I wasn’t entirely sure what I was letting myself in for, in more ways than one! I’d finally taken notice of The Lottery Winners at their Frank Turner show 3,000 support slot (my gig 1,370) and been thoroughly entertained by some buoyant and affirmative Summery indie pop, delivered with an open-hearted enthusiasm by main man Tom Rylance and his cohorts. Said date bookended an Academy-level jaunt in advance of new, 4^th (!) album “Koko” so I just missed them in their own right; however they then announced a slew of much smaller “Chart Celebration Out-Store” dates, the closest being at Oxford’s snug Bullingdon Arms, so I pounced quickly before it sold out in short order.

After an afternoon at Rachel’s 50^th birthday gathering, I set off at 6.15, again not knowing what to expect (low key? Short set + meet and greet, or full-on gig?). What I definitely didn’t expect or want, though, was to join a full on ma-hoosive queue 15 minutes after doors, thereafter taking another half hour to get in, thanks to one bloke only on the door checking names off a ledger (and missing plenty, including the group in front of me who took 2 or 3 minutes to get sorted!) when we all had Dice electronic tix which should have taken a second to scan. Utterly fucking pathetic, and I was glad I’d stopped for a wee in a layby on the outskirts of Oxford! Anyway, once in I squirmed my way to the merch stand to claim my CD and grabbed a viewing spot house left, right behind Swindon gig friend Joanne! So, had a bit of company as support The Valla took the stage, late at 8 due to some tech issues. Led by a vocalist sporting an excellent suit bearing slogans of things that clearly piss him off (the likes of homophobia, sexism, landlords and his boss falling into his crosshairs), they were initially quite chameleonic stylistically (opener “Making Waves” a Bowie Ziggy-esque glam tune, the next a big brassy 70’s funk number complete with falsetto vocal) before settling down into a ringing and upbeat Britpoppy powerpop noise not a million miles removed from tonight’s headliners. “Make It Stop” (incidentally the slogan on the back of the vocalist’s jacket) was their best number, a protest plea against all the inequalities of the world – so plenty, then! Overall, eminently listenable if hardly original openers.

More tech issues meant an extended and uncomfortable wait in this utterly rammed venue; no meet and greet tonight then – no room! The Lottery Winners took the stage at 9.10 to a rapt reception, Rylance confessing in his effete Alan Carr tones, “oh, we’ve had a stressful time! We might have to do this gig Acapulco!” before suffering even more gremlins, forcing him to go off and come back on again before kicking into opener “Worry” and the huge chant-along chorus of a subsequent “Meaning Of Life”. Nice start!

The Lottery Winners operate in a Summery, upbeat Britpoppy sonic envelope, with infectiously catchy choral hooks recalling the likes of Boo Radleys, Wonder Stuff and most notably Lightning Seeds for me. Again, not pulling up any trees stylistically then, but two elements set them apart, particularly onstage. Firstly, their lyrical subject matter, centring around affirmative and inclusive messages such as managing mental health issues and anxiety (the aforementioned “Worry”), ADHD (the brilliant “Superpower”) and feeling different and finding your tribe (set highlight, the later “Letter To Myself”); and secondly, the sheer joyful scattergun spontaneity of their performance, case in point being a totally unplanned (and pretty reverential actually) go at Joy Division’s classic “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. Why? They just felt like it…

This approach felt like a leitmotif for the set overall, Tom and co regularly going off on wild tangents. Snow Patrol and their number one album tally got numerous mentions, Rylance giggling at the comparison (“he’s Gary Lightbody; I’m Tom Heavybody!”); some punters threw Canada caps onstage, Tom donning a spangly one and prompting bandmate Rob Lally to comment, “if Elton John was in Limp Bizkit…” and a heckler was invited onstage to sing lead vocals on another unplanned cover, this one the Madness version of “It Must Be Love” (a song I’ve never liked, and honestly could have done without that piece of vaudeville tonight). That aside, it was mostly entertaining, and there was always a cracking original with a positive message just around the corner (e.g. newie “UFO”, preceded by Tom’s comment of, “if you don’t fit into a building, it’s the building that has to change, not you!”). “Letter” finished the set proper, a couple of encores including the slightly throwaway “Turn Around” (“it’s so fucking stupid, I love it!” exclaiming Rylance), and the herky jerky “Burning House” rounding off a fun overall 1 hour 20, the band happily making no concessions to the small crowd and delivering a full-length set. Caught my breath before giving Joanne a lift home to the ‘don, home myself for 11.45. As I mentioned, I wasn’t sure what I was letting myself in for with The Lottery Winners tonight; I’m still not entirely sure, but it was darn good fun overall, whatever it was!

1,381 INHALER, Permanent Joy, Bristol O2 Academy, Thursday 17th April 2025

 

This one seemed a bit of a puzzler beforehand… young Irish post-punk bucks Inhaler had announced a Spring 2025 tour in support of new, 3rd album “Open Wide”, unfortunately venturing nowhere near the ‘don, but then blue-tacked a trio of “Album Shows” on, post-tour, one being at Bristol O2 Academy, scene of the last “proper” Inhaler Brizzle gig a couple of years ago (gig 1,264)! Given the size of the venue, then, this was never going to be a Rough Trade-style “meet and greet” do (shame!), but tix (which predictably flew out) were very competitively priced (about a tenner less than usual O2 gigs) and included a copy of the new album, posted out beforehand! Nice! But what does this mean for the show itself? An unsupported short set? “Open Wide” new album only set-list? Stripped-back and acoustic, even? Who the fuck knows?

“Open Wide” itself is another set of big, brain-hugging crescendo-led oven-ready stadium anthemic tuneage and soaring choral infectiousness, delivered in vocalist Elijah’s predictably naggingly familiar yearning vocal style. Them apples continuing to fall close to the tree then, in more ways than one, but repeated plays also revealing hints of an introspective maturity; again, unsurprisingly, given that at their age (all mid-20’s now, the Inhaler boys), Eli’s dad’s lot delivered their more contemplative 4^th album “The Unforgettable Fire”, and stepped up to stadium level with their “Longest Day” 1985 Milton Keynes Bowl headlining slot (gig 29!).

Anyhoops, a frustrating work day saw me and Logan turn around quickly for a 5.15 getaway, hoping to arrive well before doors; however, Easter getaway traffic forced us off the M4 at J18 (good thing too, as 18-19 was at a standstill!), tooling along country lanes behind Polzeath boy on his way to surf in Cornwall, and parking up at 6.30 door-time. Both queues (normal and O2 priority) were utterly ma-hoosive but luckily moved quickly, and we grabbed a spot half a dozen rows back, house right on the floor, surrounded by the Inhaler massive of (again) very excitable young females. An uncomfortable wait, then, before support act (yes, there was one!) Permanent Joy, on at 8. Opener “Save My Life” had an upbeat 90’s pseudo-countrified Gin Blossoms vibe with some nice 2-part harmonies but very understated, almost polite vocals, and the set thereafter delved into an introspective melancholy that occasionally sounded a bit bored. A band that clearly have never met a major chord in their lives, I quite liked the morose musical sandbox they were playing in; it just sounded like they themselves weren’t having much fun playing in it…! “Josephine” (no, not that one, much to Logan’s chagrin) was a warbly stadium weepie, but at least they picked it up for set closer “I Wanna Go Home”, an urgent U2-like rocker with some duelling guitar work. Verdict? Not sure, but not bad…

Logan was getting hyped up for a mosh, eyeing up potential routes in, as anticipation grew; then the lights smashed to black at 9 prompt to screams from the jam-packed crowd and Inhaler took the stage, Eli giving a soft, “hello,” before the dubby backbeat opening to a dramatic, building “Open Wide”. The soaring chimes of 2^nd album “oldie” “Dublin In Ecstasy” followed up in short order, initiating a jumpalong moshpit that practically filled the whole floor. So no, not a stripped-back, low-key acoustic set then, this…! 

Nope, this ultimately turned out a slightly shorter set than the tour, focussing majorly on the new album (10 of its’ 13 tracks getting an airing tonight in this 12-song set!), and just tipping the hour mark overall. So, pretty much like last time then… and the time before…! What it lacked slightly in length, however, it made up in passion, conviction and inclusivity, much of the new material gaining extra depth and power “live”. “Little Things” was a regimented Strokes-like jaunt; “Concrete” was a hyped-up superfast Smiths-esque “Charming Man” jangle; and “All I Got Is You” (“we’ve not done this before – go easy on us!” pleaded an otherwise taciturn Eli beforehand) was my favourite of the new stuff, a robust yet contemplative rocker.

The brooding widescreen build of “Still Young” gave an obvious nod to Eli’s dad’s lot’s “With Or Without You”, and “Eddie In The Darkness”’ understated verse burst into life with a very 80’s, almost goth-tinged off kilter hook; however closer, oldie “Your Honest Face” was predictably tonight’s highlight, a full-on moshpit catnip euphoric and soaring air-puncher, bringing the hour up and the set to a slightly abrupt end, much of this young crowd hoping for (and expecting) more. Patience and politeness was rewarded with a list, a couple of girls taking pix and enquiring about my list technique; then Logan bade adieu to Grace, an old school friend he’d bumped into, before we hit the road for 11 home. So, shame we missed the tour, but at least we were treated to an entertaining Inhaler vignette tonight, Eli and co. continuing their upwards trajectory!

1,380 MIKI BERENYI TRIO, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Sunday 6th April 2025

 

Another Rough Trade early evening shindig, this one, and a chance to rectify a recent wrong by actually paying (more) attention this time… I’d very recently encountered “My Shoegaze Queen”, ethereal-voiced yet sweary sailor-mouthed former Lush frontperson Miki Berenyi, fronting her new atmospheric trio in Bristol on a late call at the end of January (gig 1,366), but the circumstances of the day had meant my head wasn’t fully in the game, and I actually dipped out of the Golden Lion’s busy back room venue for half of their nonetheless fine and resonant set. No such excuses this time, though, as this was another “meet and greet” with the band, celebrating the release of their debut full-length, “Tripla”, which by all accounts not only is a pretty decent piece of work according to early reviews, but would also likely be played in full tonight…

So, an early evening drive down a sunny M4 got me parked up about 7, to join a smattering of folk in for a relatively quiet Sunday evening event. Joined recent gig buddy Guy from Bournemouth (!) down the front for a chat about last weekend’s Wedding Present gig, whilst Miki and her back-up boys set up. Miki then announced the reason for her tardiness onstage, saying to Guy, “I remembered, I forgot your brownies! Fuck, the brownies!”, to which guitarist and partner Moose replied, “fuck the brownies!” Punctuation is so important…

Anyhoops, on to the music… this early evening, Miki Berenyi and her trio delivered another understated but beguiling and dreamy performance, those familiar aspects of Lush such as shimmering, dreamlike pedal effects, pulsing, often off-kilter beats (supplied of course by backing loops) and of course Miki’s own perfectly enunciated, high register vocals in full force and effect, weaving a heavy, intoxicating and almost trancey atmosphere. It’s not quite rock’n’roll but I still like it… “Vertigo”s slow pitter patter and moody, “breathe out, breathe in,” hook was a dreamy note of meandering melancholy; “Gango”’s backbeat percussive pattern and herky-jerky beat recalled early Talking Heads (not the only number to do so tonight) and required a more assertive and strident vocal from Miki, eliciting a remark of, “that’s my exercise for the day, I need a fucking sit down now!”; and “Kinch” featured a lovely minor chord choral descent. Throughout all this, our Shoegaze Queen was her usual affable and sardonic self, offering an over-emphasised, “thank yewwww!” after every number, bantering with the front rows about their Sunday night drinking (Miki’s remark of, “I wasn’t going to [drink] today… not because of god…” eliciting a murmured, “sounds a bit goddy to me…” from bassist Oliver) and relating a tale of a previous night’s punter asking if a later “Manu” was called Man U (!), prompting a punter (a Leeds fan) to advocate for a punching for the offender! 

The robust New Order-esque synth beat and infectious undulating repetitive hook of “8^th Deadly Sin” was again my set highlight as well as an early candidate for my “Best of 2025” compo CD, although set “closer” “Big I Am” was a buoyant close runner up with its “ba ba ba” harmonies; then on top of the out-of-sequence full album run through, old Lush number “Undertow” (“we really enjoy playing this so we may record it…” commented Miki) fit snugly onto the end, demonstrating the apples haven’t really fallen far from the tree. 

I’d taken a late-set break but still managed to squirm forward to be in prime position for Miki’s list, provided by bassist Oliver, then joined the back of the queue with Guy, eventually greeting Miki with “my Queen!” to her amusement and having a brief chat about the returning My Bloody Valentine and their Wembley gig in November. “I think we’ll be able to hear it from our house!” she deadpanned to Moose at the prospect. Farewells to Guy and an economy drive home, back in the ‘don for half nine (!). Another successful Rough Trade evening, then, a promising new Miki album to listen to, and I’m glad I got to pay more attention this evening!

1,379 OCTOBER DRIFT, The Youthplay, Coast, Southampton Joiner's Arms, Tuesday 1st April 2025

 

After a very promising band of pretenders to the throne of current post-punk last night in Thus Love, tonight here’s the real deal in Taunton’s brilliant October Drift. Not only had this lot lain waste to The Thekla last time out in October 2024 (gig 1,353), their performance nailing down a spot in my Top 5 “live” acts of the year (in a pretty darn high-quality field…), but they’d also restored my appetite for “live” music after a fraught month dealing with the news of my wife Rachel’s cancer diagnosis. So, I’d eagerly booked for this, the opening night of a seeming continuation of their tour pushing their third album, “Blame The Young”, not only to immerse myself in another potentially incendiary post-punk night out, but also to share with the boys the news that things are now generally going well with Rachel’s treatment, and prognosis seems hopeful.

A busy school parent’s evening still saw me setting off down a sun-kissed M4/ A34 route down South, parking around the corner from the excellent Joiners and hitting the scuzzy back-room venue just after 7.30. Painfully young openers Coast were already rounding off a rocking opening number in front of a busy early-doors turnout of evident friends and family. The follow-up was more slower-burn, yet “This Time”, next up, really nailed their influences to the mast with some intricate Edge-like guitar licks either side of a big yearning chorus, and the subsequent “Outside On A Friday”, an aspiring proto stadium anthem, even had a bit of an early singalong! Clearly earnest and ambitious, then, this lot (plugging their forthcoming Heartbreakers headline slot with some enthusiasm), but nowt wrong in dreaming big, I guess… Main support The Youth Play were older, more practised and accomplished, with some galloping textural mood music giving obvious nods to dour post-punk and morose shoegaze; their amphetamine-fast opener recalled My Vitriol, and more atmospheric later material touched on recent finds Soft Kill. “After A Moment” was a moody, early Ride like number and probably the best of a promising, intriguing and idea-filled set, delivered with confidence and a resonant low baritone from the vocalist.

By then, I’d once again encountered Liz from Chandlers Ford, greeted OD soundman James from Indoor Pets as he disappeared upstairs, and also enjoyed a Bunnymen-centric chat with Jonathan and Faith from Fareham, in my spot down the front, house right. At 9.20, “No Sleep Till Brooklyn” swaggered out of the pa, and white-clad vocalist Kiron Roy led the band onstage, the huge swelling hook of the swayalong “Waltzer” igniting a mass singalong and getting the party started proper. “Southampton, we’re October Drift… let’s do this!” announced Kiron, already bent double and sawing away on this guitar nineteen to the dozen for the subsequent jagged and ragged “Demons”. Blowing the cobwebs away, and no mistake… 

I seem to be on a run of opening nights of October Drift tours; like that Thekla gig, last time out, they were once again “on it” from note one, delivering the kind of scarily committed and rocket-fuelled full-on energetic performance that has now become their trademark. “Hollow”’s massive anthemic hook ceded to a Bob Mould-esque squalling outro; “Blame The Young”, thrown casually in mid-set, accelerated into a hurtling, inexorable climactic build; and Kiron, who’d gestured and exhorted the crowd to get more involved from the off, had his first foray into the audience during the brooding, drum-dominated “Bleed”. A later “Airborne Panic Attack” also accelerated from a dead stop start into a thunderous intro, then dropped right back for an almost mumbled hushed verse before the massive roaring Nirvana-esque chorus, but the subsequent “Cherry Red” was the cheery on the cake and set highlight for me; this time it was wild-eyed and wild-haired guitarist Dan Young who ploughed into the centre of the mosh, initially coaxing squalling noise from his instrument as a punter fanned him, but thereafter leading the bounce-along to the dark gothy chorus.

After a fist-pumping “Oh The Silence”, Kiron again took floor central, dedicating the final number “Not Running” to his recently-lost grandmother, calling the elegiac yet soaring finale a “song for solidarity”, and ending another tremendous, incendiary October Drift set on a desolate yet triumphant note. Drummer Chris happily heard my shouts for his list, then after a short wait I caught up with the man in the bar, filling him in on our current family news. Again, Chris provided an understanding ear, typical of this band’s deep connection and genuine care for its’ audience. Pondered this on my swift drive home, back in the ‘don for 12.30. Why October Drift aren’t stadium massive already is a mystery for the ages; they absolutely deserve it not just because their canon is now chock-full of humungous oven-ready stadium bangers, but because they’re just about the nicest guys in rock’n’roll today. Indeed, October Drift are very much the Real Deal!

1,378 THUS LOVE, Ain’t, Bristol Strange Brew, Monday 31st March 2025

 

First of a two-in-two of young bands harking back to that growling post-punk sonic template; familiar faces tomorrow, but first here’s new Vermont 4-piece Thus Love. A self-styled “queercore” post-punk lot, I’d discovered them earlier this year via the good offices of the new band-breaking “Revolt Into Style” Facebook page, a little too late for their sophomore 2024 release “All Pleasure” to inveigle its’ way onto my “Best of 2024” Compo CD, but in plenty of time to book for their subsequent UK jaunt. “All Pleasure” is an intriguing blend of moody, tuneful and hooky Joy Division-esque post-punk with strident overlays of glammy 70’s NYC New Wave, similar in mood to last year’s finds Been Stellar and Slow Fiction, albeit with a little less shoegazey introspection and a bit more dynamism. And by all accounts, the dynamism and swagger is ramped up a few more notches “live” too; OK then, let’s see… 

Left a little late for a jaunt down a sunny M4, but parked up about 7.30 and wandered into this arty storefront venue, running into Bristol gig face Louise, a Thus Love fan of a couple of years standing, and chatting Suede briefly with her and her Suede-obsessed friend. Took a central spot for openers Ain’t. A 5-piece fronted by a striking pre-Raphaelite dressed hippychick vocalist with (initially) bunny ears, with an intriguing sonic template blending metronomic post-punk and considered, mid-paced Pumpkins-like angsty slacker grunge, they unfortunately suffered with a bad sound mix, rendering a lot of their material (and particularly said singers rather understated, lilting tones) struggling against the fuzzed-out guitar noise and pounding drums, making this set heavy going on the ears. A shame, as there sounded as if there might have been some decent material under there, to go along with the vocalist’s entertaining moves…

A respectable crowd had gathered as Thus Love took the stage dead on 9, to pulsing disco feedback, easing into oldie (and thus “newie” to me!) “Repititioner”, the plangent opening riff and ascending bass building into a languid mid-song wall of sound, recalling my 2000’s NYC faves The Stills, no less. “On The Floor” the opening track of “All Pleasure” followed, the hypnotic pulse and upbeat Joy Division-esque guitar riff sounding clear and purposeful, setting the tone for a tough, road-tested, robust and fulsome performance of their intriguing, hooky and resonant US alt-rock. “You guys good?” offered wonderfully-named vocalist Echo Mars (yes, Echo Mars, I shit you not!), to which Some Wag Down The Front (OK, me…) countered with, “yeah, how are you?” “Fucking living the dream, bud…” came the languid, drawled reply… 

I’d be inclined to believe that, actually, as Mars proved a natural frontperson, laconic and relaxed yet also dynamic and committed, backed up ably by an excellent, intuitive band. “Were any of you here when we last played this room? I was climbing that [speaker stack] like a monkey…”, ventured Mars, this time remaining confined to the stage and their guitar, nonetheless throwing shapes with abandon. “Birthday Song”’s slow burn, moody intro built to a sweeping choral crescendo; “House On A Hill” kicked in with a herky-jerky new wave rhythm underpinned by a sleazy, sinister Pixies-esque bassline before the wolverine growl of its’ denouement, bassist Ally Juleen screaming the hook to the rafters; and oldie “Put On Dog” was absolutely superb, a careering hellride with green strobes augmenting the mood of mutant madness. The kind of number most bands save until the end, but Thus Love stick it casually in mid-set. Confident…

A merch plug (“we get to buy dinner at home if you buy shirts!” pleaded the drummer) and an anti-Trump rant from Juleen preceded the brooding gothic death march of “Centerfield”; then the dissonant building hook of “Show Me Patience” recalled aforementioned recent US finds Been Stellar, before the eerie and growling Pixies-esque plod of “Lost In Translation” ended a damn fine set punctuated by a 2-song encore culminating in funky closer “Family Man”, and Juleen happily throwing the drummer’s list my way. By this time my knees were barking a little, so I decided to head off, wandering alongside the crowd just leaving the nearby SWX and dropping in for a snack in Taka Taka on the corner. Had an entertaining conversation therein with Ain’t’s relatively new (7 gigs in tonight) bass player, who during a meandering conversation about the current state of rock, made the mistake of asking me what I thought of them! I think he appreciated my honesty – at least he didn’t hit me! He did persuade me to give Ain’t another chance, which tbf I would have done anyway… No such persuasion required for tonight’s headliners though, Thus Love showing promise “live” even beyond my expectations. A band to see again… and again…

1,377 THE WEDDING PRESENT, Evy Frearson, Stroud The Sub Rooms, Saturday 29th March 2025

 

Alright Gedge me laddie, you did it on the big stage, let’s see if you can do it on the indie equivalent of a rainy night in Stoke…!

Lovelorn Indie guitar veterans The Wedding Present were undoubtedly the revelation of last year’s “Shiiine On”; I’d of course known them since their early pomp, first seeing them back in 1986 (on a Mighty Lemon Drops support slot at ULU, gig 58!), being astonished by the dexterity of main man and sole remaining original member David Gedge’s superfast guitar wrist action, and thoroughly enjoyed the headlong hurtle and thrashy rush of their early material, whilst the weekly music inkies positioned them as heirs to the Indie crown then recently vacated by The Smiths. Our paths diverged in the early 90s, however, and my interest had waned somewhat since, a decent showing at Swindon’s 12 Bar in 2008 (gig 751) notwithstanding. This had actually been the most recent time I’d paid specifically to see the Weddoes; the 3 occasions our paths had crossed since were on a Stuffies support bill and at previous “Shiiine On” showings, when each time they’d been lacklustre at best, so I’d taken some persuasion to check out their 2024 “Shiiine” appearance.

Well, they simply blew me away on that night, their performance possessing a caustic power and seething dynamism lacking for me since the 80s, running the excellent Modern English close for my Band of the Festival. A Million Miles better than recently, so Nobody’s Twisting my Arm to see them again! An early opportunity for a close quarters repeat came with this one-off Saturday show in nearby Stroud, so off I set just after 5ish, dumping the motor at Parliament car park (free after 5!) and wandering down the hill to this splendidly appointed town hall. Eventually got let in out of the cold at 6.30 doors, although the rope took another 10 minutes to come down for entry to the large upstairs hall venue, resembling a bigger Guildhall. Took a side-seat and watched the place slowly fill up, most arrivals also chatting with a merch-stand bound Gedge, before opener Evy Frearson took the stage at 7.30. A young and striking goth-esque solo acoustic gal, she regaled us with some octave-straddling vocal gymnastics and impressive off-mic work overlaying her distinctly 80s/90s US angsty alt-Americana-tinged material. A couple of early morose and moody numbers recalled Kristin Hersh, a more pastoral and plaintive “Better For You” had Lisa Loeb vibes, and a later, more conversational number evoked Suzanne Vega. Overall, eminently listenable and charming, if a little low-key for an indie rock support. Short too at barely 20 minutes…

Met and caught up with Gloucester mate Simon and his wife Sarah, and “Shiiine On” buddy Martin, here as part of a lads weekend in Nailsworth! The lights dimmed at 8.30 and I squirmed back to a slot 1/ back, house left, as Gedge led the Weddoes on prompt at 8.30, easing into newie “Two For The Road”, which initially seemed worryingly polite and understated, but happily sped up several gears midway through, really taking flight during the instrumental breaks and outro. “We’re the semi-legendary Wedding Present!” announced Gedge, then stating, “this is our first concert in Stroud; only took us 39 years…” before oldie “A Million Miles” took a similar pattern, sneaking in slowly then gathering serious momentum throughout its yearning, personal length. 

This pretty much set the tone for another impressive Wedding Present set, happily continuing that “Shiiine On” form. A longer and consequently less focussed and consistent set, maybe, but even tonight’s troughs were miles better than their flat and perfunctory mid to late 20-teens sets. And the highs? Well, most usually arrived towards the end of particular numbers, when the choppy and thrashy dual guitar attack interplay between Gedge and new guitarist Rachael was, well, no less than utterly thrilling, and occasionally quite breathtaking, actually… “Dalliance”’s slow brooding burn built to a noisy crescendo for an early highlight, Gedge throwing shapes and growling the hook in his low yet strident tones; “Corduroy” segued from droney verse into faster choppy guitar chorus and squalling finale; and a brisk “You Should Always Keep On Touch With Your Friends” was excellent, Gedge displaying that wrist dexterity of old. Throughout all this, the old chap was in fine fooling too, reacting to good-natured boos from the front rows to his intention to take things down a notch for an early “Sports Car” with, “blimey what a confrontational audience!” and asking Stroud, “is it posh here, or rough?”, eliciting mixed comments in response. 

By this time, I was nearer the front, extreme house right, courtesy of a quick loo break, but was enticed into a good-natured (well, despite one, erm, “well refreshed” bloke in orange throwing his weight around) mosh during a later “Nobody’s Twisting Your Arm”, running into old mate and Weddoes acolyte Stu (here with some mutual friends) in the front rows! Thereafter, it was Hitsville, West Yorkshire, to the finish; the metronomic clatter of “Kennedy”, an undulating, heartfelt “My Favourite Dress”, a potent and powerful “Bewitched”, then, after thanks from the main man (“What a great night this has been! We should come back in another 40 years… in [20]65…”), a Tex Mex instrumental version of closer “Brassneck”, which ultimately segued into a terrific breakneck-pace full rendition, to end another redemptive Weddoes set. 

Grabbed a lucky list and said farewells to Simon and Sarah, then spotted Stu talking to a familiar face in Ride’s bassist Steve Queralt, so I again took the opportunity to petition his band to play “Shiiine On”! Not this year, but never say never, came the reply… A signature and brief compliments with Gedge at the merch stand before I hit the road for home, with old mates Stu and Paul in tow this time, and all in agreement that this current Weddoes line-up is top-notch, with excellent new guitarist Rachael imbuing them with new life, power and purpose. So, back on my Gig Radar with a vengeance, and hopefully this time for good!