1,411 BOO RADLEYS, Quartermain, Witney Studio Se7en, Friday 24th October 2025

 

A short notice one, this, and a chance to catch up with an old friend after a long while… recently ¾ reformed 90’s pre-Britpop indie/ psych prestidigateurs The Boo Radleys booked in to a studio in Witney for rehearsals for a forthcoming European tour, and, noticing the onsite venue, also announced a warm-up gig there! I’d never been to Witney for a gig before, but a bit of research not only revealed it was the right (i.e. the ‘don) side of Oxford, but also very close to Eynsham, where my 90’s Level 3 buddy Rich Craven lays his hat. Our paths hadn’t crossed since a couple of Oxford gigs in 2018 (Fij & Bickers, gig 1,068, and ChameleonsVox, gig 1,118) but arrangements were happily made to rectify this sorry state of affairs.

Drove off at 4 into the windswept and storm-battered wilds of Oxfordshire, eventually finding Rich’s pad amongst a maze of farm outhouses! Caught up at his place over a cuppa, chatting so much that we barely noticed the clock ticking up to gig time! Headed over to Witney, parking up in the sodden industrial estate venue location and getting in early doors. A compact and bijou little community centre venue, this, albeit off the beaten track and on the outskirts of town, and under new management too, tonight being the launch event. I met Rich’s friends “Deadly” Dan and new proprietor Becky, and we continued our catch-up until local openers Quartermain, on at 8. Their opener, “Time” was bouncy and melodic in a Summery Britpop vein, but subsequent numbers veered into understated 80’s wallpaper pop territory, the vocalist’s oft-used falsetto a bit annoying as well, so we went back to our conversation! Their later numbers sounded a bit powerpoppier, e.g. the Redd Kross-ish “Like A Meteor”, but they were generally forgettable, and at 45 minutes, overlong… 

Hit the loo then took a ridiculously easy spot down the front, house left, while new Boos guitarist Lewis soundchecked the front line. Nowhere near full tonight, and quite an odd clientele too; a few old school indie and Boos fans (including a father and son from Tring, chatting with me down the front) but outnumbered by curious Friday night couples and disco divas on girly nights out! Which beggars the question; why are the Boos labouring away in such tiny spots, whilst considerably inferior 90’s contemporaries pack out bigger halls, O2 Academies, and even stadia? As Bob would say, makes no sense at all… Anyhoops, the Boos took the stage just after 9.15 to the atmospheric “Giant Steps” opening backing track, easing into an understated but clear “I Hang Suspended”, the languid rhythm at least getting me moving down the front. Sice then introduced the subsequent rasping growl of “C’mon Kids” with, “this is a different gig for us – we’re off to France so this is an early taste [of the Euro tour set] – you get to hear the new songs and the fuck-ups!”

Self-effacing as ever, but for me, whilst the Boos took their time to really bed in the sound (early numbers such as a nonetheless fine-sounding double “Barney And Me” and “Find The Answer Within” feeling a little low-key as they eased in), fuck-ups were happily absent, and by the ubiquitous “Wake Up Boo!”, stylishly inserted in early-mid set, they’d really found their mojo with a dynamic, bouncy version of their best-known number. And Sice was in fine buoyant form throughout, chatty and effusive between numbers in his Scouse tones (“I sound more Scouse when I’m onstage!” he lamented), introducing the set material drawn variously from the entirety of their surprisingly deep 90’s canon, “because the French like that [material]!” The early “Barney” had gotten me rocking good and proper, and I carried my bat throughout, being joined occasionally by a smattering of dancing ladies to the more familiar stuff: so whilst “Wake Up!” was really busy down the front, the subsequent mellow melancholy of “Reaching Out From Here” saw me back dancing on my own! 

The brooding “Man Who Sold The World”-esque riff of “Ride The Tiger” (“a single, weirdly enough,” according to Sice) led into its’ loose-limbed, dubby outro; a rare outing for “From The Bench At Belvedere” evoked a hazy, late Summer evening vibe with its’ mellow melody; oldie “The Finest Kiss” gave a reverential nod to their droney shoegaze origins; and after the late period Beatles-esque “King Size”, the tremendous “Lazy Day”’s juxtaposition between discordant backbeat verse and melodic undulating instrumental hook was the set highlight. Well, until… “Thanks for coming, it’s been an absolute blast!” Sice effused, before introducing set closer, a tremendous, tremulous and widescreen “Lazarus” its’ stately and epic scope a fitting conclusion to a fine set. A set list from Sice, then a chat with the man himself before we headed off. Dropped Rich off for last orders at his local, then an inky but happily dry run back through the Cotswolds and a stop for late kebab tea got me home just after midnight. Excellent company both on and offstage… and hopefully it won’t be too long before I catch up with Rich – or the Boos! – again!

1,368 BOO RADLEYS, KEELEY, Bristol Exchange, Wednesday 12th February 2025

I have a very fond memory from my 30^th birthday, of hurling myself into a Portuguese villa swimming pool to the stereo accompaniment of the Boo Radleys’ newly-released single “Wake Up Boo!” Ah, that Summer… that track, and the subsequent “Wake Up!” album completed an about-turn for me with the Boos, from a less than favourable first impression, and I subsequently caught them 3 times “live” that year, as the ubiquitous “Wake Up Boo!” became The Tune That Ate Daytime Radio, and a proper millstone around the band’s neck. Nonetheless, “Wake Up!” itself is a clear, varied and melodic collection of 60’s turned 90’s Beatles-esque pop which, despite lacking the widescreen majesty of its’ predecessor “Giant Steps”, still sounds fresh today, unlike a lot of other stuff from that era (the totally wrong Beatles-referencing band went massive in the 90’s, as far as I’m concerned!). So, a tour from the recently ¾-reformed Boos celebrating that, plus the murkier and more difficult psych-pop follow-up “C’mon Kids”? OK then! 

Another reason for coming along was the addition of Bristol-domiciled shoegaze and indie student Keeley and her ubiquitous band to the bill (and indeed the whole tour!), the Keelster making an early bid for my most-seen artist of 2025, with 3 gigs already this nascent gigging year! So, an early departure was called for, following some offspring persuasion with Rach still in hospital (the price of a kebab was all it took!), and I barrelled down the M4, hitting slow traffic on the way into the city but parking opposite the Exchange just after 10 past 7. No need for such an early start, though, as Keeley were still soundchecking! Grabbed a front spot, house left, when doors eventually opened, and greeted Keeley and the boys on their way to the stage for their 7.55 start. Straight into the psych riffery of opener “Last Words” and the tough, plangent intro and intricate fretwork of “Inga Hauser” and it was evident that the extra sound checking was time well spent, as they sounded splendid and easily the best of the recent 3 shows; full, strident and purposeful, with Keeley’s low, resonant vocals again leading the charge. A quartet of new numbers formed the mid-set, “Crossing Lands” possibly my favourite tonight with its pacey, bass-driven gallop, but the thoroughly absorbing metronomic thrill-ride of “Trans Europe 18”, happily restored to the set tonight, was again my highlight. “Who was here for Desperate Journalist?” enquired bassist Lukey, playfully following up with, “what did you think of the first band?” Pretty good, Lukey mate, but much better tonight! 

Chatted with fellow front row punters Gaye and Eddie, Eddie confessing “C’mon Kids” was his favourite Boos album! So, he was buoyed when the set-lists went down onstage, tonight’s entertainment promising a scattergun selection between that and “Wake Up!”, rather than a formal start-to-finish run-through. However, and opposite to Keeley, the Boos initially struggled with the sound mix; very bass and drum dominated from my spot, and needing more of Louis’ guitar and Sice’s pure choirboy vocals, with openers “C’mon Kids” and “It’s Lulu” sadly lacking a bit of punch for me. Didn’t stop me dancing along though, and, happily, the sound improved when Sice resorted to his acoustic guitar for the languid change-of-pace “Melodies For The Deaf”. By then, they’d already dispensed with “Wake Up Boo!” and Sice had again proven an entertaining, laconic frontman, bantering with a couple of (rather annoying actually) Everton fans about tonight’s Mersey derby, and dissing the singing bush on “The Masked Singer” for demolishing the aforementioned “Wake Up Boo!”

Despite my usual preference for more upbeat numbers, The Boo Radleys tonight were better with the sound down, the hushed and plaintive “Reaching Out From Here” a prime example of this, with drummer Rob Ceika applying delicate brush strokes rather than big bashes. Sice observed, ““C’mon Kids” was a great album but a bitch to pick singles from!” before a rather lovely “Everything Is Sorrow”; “Joel” was also a mid-set highlight, its pastoral opening ceding into a libidinous psych-groove; and “Ride The Tiger” an understated delight, with a “Man Who Sold The World” opening riff leading into a loose-limbed, almost tribal vibe. But tonight’s highlight was reserved for last; after the gregarious and personable Sice thanked all and sundry, set closer “Stuck On Amber”, the more melancholic and introspective outlier on the otherwise buoyant “Wake Up!” album, was conversely the best and most euphoric and joyous sounding number of the night, the final crescendo bringing an improving set to a quite excellent conclusion.

An easy list and farewell to Eddie, before a chat with the Keeley folks at the merch stand preceded a difficult run out of Bristol, the bottom half of the M32 shut again. Bah! Still, the kids were fine, kebabs duly despatched, so a successful night all round. Boo Radleys (and Keeley)…C‘mon Up!

1,304 THE 2023 “SHIIINE ON” WEEKENDER, Various Venues at Butlins Resort, Minehead, Friday 17th – Sunday 19th November 2023

 

For the 7^th time in a row, it’s November, so it must be time to “Shiiine”! Once again we prepare to immerse ourselves in the annual weekend celebrating the 80’s/ 90’s/2000’s UK indie scene in its various guises, but this time there was a slight element of trepidation and even reluctance on my part, due to 3 factors. Firstly, the bill; a couple of intriguing late 90’s reunions aside, it was solid enough but a little unspectacular for me, lacking the real “wow” factor of, say, a Bunnymen, Chameleons or Midway Still level of band who could really be potential highlights – well, The Wonder Stuff aside, but then they or singer Miles Hunt play every year anyway, right? Secondly, the weather; heavy rain and storms had already damaged much of the site, resulting in accommodation being cancelled for about 300 or so punters following an anxious wait, and further heavy storms were also forecast over the weekend… yuck! And finally, one of my 3 all-time favourite bands, Gigolo Aunts, announced a trio of reunion dates in New York and Boston supporting Letters To Cleo on their annual US East Coast Thanksgiving jaunt, completely clashing with “Shiiine On” which itself was a weekend later this year! Bollocks! So, I was prepared for a soggy weekend – in Minehead in body, but with a part of my soul in “The Hub”… 

Nonetheless, I put aside concerns and we picked up Rachel’s friend Sarah, a first time “Shiiiner” who’d booked separate accommodation, and we hit the road for a decent run down, bumping into Martin and his friend (and fellow first timer) Jon at an impromptu pitstop at Minehead’s Tesco. No breakfast shop today as we’d all bought fixings down, for reasons which will quickly become apparent, however the fish and chip seafront meal tradition was observed as usual, Matt arriving as we ordered. After Rachel’s friends Duncan and Rick arrived (the boys staying with Sarah after their own chalets fell victim to the storms), our convoy parked up after picking up our welcome packs from the gates, then we grabbed our wristbands and were ready to go! No time to unpack, though, as ABSTRACTION ENGINE awaited us at Inn On The Green at 1.45… hence no Tesco run! Swindon’s finest are regular punters here, and this time had inveigled themselves onto the bill, albeit at an indecently early time. Thankfully, we weren’t the only ones up for some early rock, and a respectable crowd greeted vocalist David and the boys as they, bedecked in fluffy jackets, eased into the plaintive slow build of opener “Placeholder”. By the upbeat Summery britpop vibe of “What Would You Say”, however, they were into their stride, and the harder-edged 70’s rocker “Dreamer” and best-of-set “Walk Through Walls”, a haunting yet propulsive rocker, formed an impressive-sounding mid-set triple. The pastoral Wheat-like “Shine” fittingly rounded off an early yet worthy and well-received inclusion for the boys on the “Shiiine” bill – a bit further up next year, maybe? 

Greeted the boys as they unpacked, then the crew departed to check out other stuff and I stayed for THE MALAKITES, a painfully young looking bunch whose opening psych-pop salvo was intriguing, but as they veered into more bluesy trad-Britpop sounding stuff, a little too close to the likes of Ocean Colour Snore for my liking, I lost interest and headed back to the apartment (as far back this year as it’s possible to be without caravanning!) to unpack. The crew had done the same, so we chilled awhile, before our first jaunt into the Skyline Arena. A respectable crowd awaited JESUS JONES, on slightly late at 4.35, and straight into the upbeat techno-indie of “Zeroes And Ones”, the svelte Mike Edwards putting in an energetic shift as ever (though not as energetic as his crazed keyboardist!) yet initially sounding a little lost in the mix. We need more Mike on the mike! Thankfully, by the clattering rhythms of “Bring It On Down”, the sound was more balanced, and the hectic dynamism of “Never Enough” was my set highlight. “The Devil You Know” – “from the band’s but not the public’s favourite album,” remarked a rather bitter Edwards – was a bit dull really (the public are always right!!), yet the understated lugubrious sway of “Right Here Right Now” got a good singalong, so fair play. The barking jagged rhythm of closer “Info Freako”, accompanied by lurid colourful film backdrops, rounded off a solid and rabble-rousing yet a little one-dimensional set. 

JIM BOB was up next in short order, the former Carter USM man thankfully backed by his Hoodrats, and playing a popular and bright set largely based on recent album “Thanks For Reaching Out”, yet delving regularly into his former band’s canon. I’d seen him recently at Bristol’s Rough Trade (gig 1,287), so enjoyed the likes of the melodic, inclusive title track and sarky, snarky punk rock hurtle “Sebastian’s On A Ridealong”. I could have done without the unannounced cover of “Geno” (a song I never liked anyway) but the punkish “Stuff The Jubilee”, with suitable punnish stream of consciousness lyrics, was a subsequent highlight. The sinister sea shanty paean “Prince In A Pauper’s Grave” (which, I say every time, I saw JB’s old band Jamie Wednesday do in 1987 – gig 78, folks!) was stark and eerie as ever, yet the subsequent “Angel Strike!”, dour, dark and stunningly melancholic, was easily my set highlight. Ye Gods, that’s a song! The rambunctious “Bloodsport For All” (preceded by an affable, deadpan Jim introducing the band, including impressive bassist Lindsay Scott, then himself as “Dirk Diggler”!) capped an overall fine set from my old Jamie Wednesday correspondent. Great to see him in fine fettle again!

My knee was barking by now, so I took a break in Hotshots, sharing a table and a chat with Joanne and Nick from Oxford, before Rach joined us as we sheltered from the inevitable onstage car-crash that is Shaun Ryder, this time with Black Grape. However, we were of course all in for the headliners; Miles Hunt bounded onstage at the appointed hour in his cheesy game show compere alter-ego, declaiming this evening’s entertainment (“some songs from The Groove Machine! (cheers) Some songs from Hup! (more cheers)” etc.) before announcing, “to do that, I’m gonna need me a band!” THE WONDER STUFF then joined Miles onstage, kicking off with the coruscating circular riff of the brilliant “Feet To The Flames”. Great start, but Milo then deadpanned to guitarist and loyal wingman Malc Treece, “d’you want to play them something they like, Malc?”, before the fiddle-driven build of “Mission Drive” ignited the crowd.

 Thence followed a typical Wonder Stuff “Shiiine On” set; fully inclusive, perfectly executed, brilliantly played, melodic, roof-raisingly singalong, fun psych/folk tinged indie rock of the first water, comfortably Set Of The Weekend… you know, the usual from Milo and crew! Unlike quite a few who pass through this Fest, Miles totally “gets” “Shiiine On”, gives the people what they want, and is rewarded with overflowing bonhomie and huge ovations throughout. The melancholic yet uplifting “Caught In My Shadow” was an early highlight, “Red Berry Joy Town” was driving and robust, and the superb “On The Ropes” saw me pile down the front, joining an ebullient if a little boisterous mosh. “Golden Green” was its’ usual singalong hoedown, Miles challenging us to “keep that singalong going” for the fairground ride of “Size Of A Cow”. Props from the singer to Janice Long for championing the band at their inception, before “Unbearable”, then the irrepressible bounce of “Give Give Give Me More More More” saw the band take a breather, returning for an encore which Miles announced as “[one] we’ve learned especially for you fuckers; and we might not play it again ever!”… only their cheesy Vic & Bob No. 1 hit “Dizzy”! A proper “check your cool at the door” moment, this was a fun singalong and a “Shiiine” highlight. The more typical “Ruby Horse”, the slightly-delic swirl of “Wish Away” and the usual thunderous “Ten Trenches Deep” rounded off another quite brilliant “Shiiine On” Wonder Stuff set. Familiarity in this instance definitely NOT breeding contempt; on this form I’d have them headline every year! 

A breather and quick bite was then called for, before I split from my Clone Roses-bound crew, I was up for seeing MIKI BERENYI TRIO in Reds. The Queen of Shoegaze joined us at 11.15 with a deadpan, “oh good, you’re all still awake then, that’s fucking great!”, easing into plaintive opener “Light From A Dead Star”, her high register vocals a feature. “I haven’t had a drink yet! I’ll be allowed when the Boo Radleys are on,” she intoned brightly as the initial set drifted hazily by. Ironically, “Suzanne”, a Moose number presumably in deference to her partner and guitarist “Moose” McKillop, was a mid-set highlight with a galloping, almost Western movie soundtrack feel, and the plangent atmospheric march of “Love At First Sight” was also rather splendid. However, a full hour seemed a little wearing, particularly given Miki’s taciturn nature and the band’s stripped-back set-up, and the dramatic, discordant closer “Baby Talk” was not only the best of set, but quite welcome after a variable performance, albeit one with many highlights. 

I took a wander outside and spotted Miles Hunt outside Reds, once again holding court and generously giving his time to anyone who asked. I bought the man a drink and we had a brief chat about those pesky Gigolo Aunts before I wandered back in for THE BOO RADLEYS at 12.45. Sans former songwriter Martin Carr (who’d impressed last year with a Sunday afternoon solo set), I was still looking forward to them as they’d totally smashed it with a “Giant Steps”-centric showing in Reading earlier this year (gig 1,283), and the alarm strafe and descending riff of said album’s opener “I Hang Suspended” kicked off the set in some style, buoyant vocalist Sice once again in fantasy band camp, sporting a grin as wide as the Mersey throughout, and greeting us with a cheerful “good evening everyone! It’s way past my bedtime!” The breezy C86 strumalong of “Wish I Was Skinny” was an early highlight, and the descending poppy hook of the 60’s-esque “Find The Answer Within” provided a moment of redemption for the singer; “[when I played here solo] I totally fucked this one up!” 

Boo Radleys were great again, giving the lie to their oft-variable “live” reputation, picking pure upbeat indiepop classics from the breadth of their canon. “Barney And Me” was an irresistibly groovy layered singalong, the off-kilter “Lazy Day” (“from our shoegaze album!”) a fuzzed-up delight, and newie “How Was I To Know” (“we’re chucking in [this] new one cos it’s a fucking banger!” boasted Sice) an upbeat, robust rocker with a big hook. “Lazarus”, inevitably, was the widescreen, sky-scraping set highlight, and the inevitable jaunty “Wake Up Boo”, Sice conducting the crowd singalong, was actually a fine way to send us all off to bed, to end a happy, bouncy set and the best day of the weekend, musically at least! 

Shiiine Saturday started as Shiiine Saturday’s often do; a lazy lie-in, a “Big Man” big fried breakfast, then a late trip to the pool party for some lazy river action and an impromptu crazy game of keepie-up with a beach ball! A quick turn-around at the apartment as I was up for IAN PROWSE AND AMSTERDAM, on at 10 to 2 in Centre Stage (not Reds, as I quickly found out when I erroneously went there first!). Never mind, in in time to grab a bit of barrier as the man emerged, kick-starting his set with “Taking On The World”, an empowering piece of chunky, Frank Turner-esque folky pop with a punk attitude and sensibility, setting the tone for an inclusive, rabble-rousing, politically motivated yet never hectoring set of fine rebel music, which doubtless would have had The Men They Couldn’t Hang’s late agent provocateur Stefan Cush staring down in approval. An upbeat “Megalomania” had tinges of mid-period XTC; an affecting “Dessie Warren” was an inspirational folk number preceded by a preamble about the man and the cry of, “Fuck The Tories!”; and “Name And Number” featured a lengthy – and funny! – interlude about Prowse meeting Freddy Mercury in a vision, who bequeathed him the band for “Shiiine On”! A rollicking good set ended with a quite beautiful “Does This Train Stop On Merseyside” and the usual anti-“Sun” newspaper rant from a bullish Prowse. Cracking stuff again from the man! 

My crew then stayed in for Mark Chadwick; I’m not a Levellers fan, so I left on the first note and headed to a quiet Inn On The Green for the mid-afternoon CANDY OPERA set. A shorter than planned performance, this, due to bassist Frank Mahon not feeling well. Mahon nonetheless struggled on gamely, as “See It Through Your Eyes” was a shimmering slow burn into a big hooky 80’s-tinged chorus, an unplanned “Left Right Centre” had a distinctive Motown blue eyed soul feel, and “#Text Delete” galloped along with a rootsy rockabilly vibe, powered by some resonant guitar licks. After the upbeat 70‘s NYC Lou Reed vibe of “Crash”, affable badger-haired vocalist Paul Malone introduced the band, including 16 year old (!) drummer Sonny (“we’ve had to lie about his age!” quipped Malone). The excellent, widescreen and crafted “These Days Are Ours” and darker “Enemy”, which featured Malone going all McCulloch/ Burgess on us by throwing in lyrical vignettes from The Beatles, Bowie and Joy Division, rounded off another fine set from these “Shiiine On” staples. As with the Stuffies, for my money they’re welcome every year!

 

A pic and chat with a friendly Mr. Malone about Liverpool rock then preceded a (thankfully dry, the forecast showers holding off for now) wander back to Sarah’s apartment where Rach was hanging out. Enjoyed some down-time, chat and snacks before wandering back to the Skyline Arena and hooking up with the rest of the crew for “Shiiine” debutants TERRORVISION, a band who largely passed me by in the 90’s, but who were clearly this year’s nomination for the “Grunting Rock Pig” slot ably filled by the likes of Midway Still and Therapy? in previous “Shiiine”s. An early “Pretend Best Friend” was overt and shouty noisy post-grunge rock with a slight hint of Kiss-like 80’s hair metal, setting the tone for a dynamic set. Not just one trick ponies, however, this lot; “Don’t Go” featured a fine descending outro hook reminiscent of Bowie’s “All The Young Dudes”, and “American TV” was a slightly uncomfortable meld of glam stomp and 90’s rap. All eyes however were on bearded Sami Zayn lookalike singer Tony Wright, a man who not only lifted the performance above its occasionally average material with his all action, dynamic performance, but also who, in his bright pink suit (borrowing my son’s prom suit style!) with tight tight trousers, clearly dresses to the left… or right… or… (it was all rather hypnotic really…!) 90’s Level 3 floor-filler “Oblivion” was the highlight of an overall pretty decent – and definitely eye-catching! – set. 

A wander out of the arena to grab a pasty and a sit-down on a bench in the walkway; despite this year’s festival being slightly under capacity due to the cancellations (which, due to the number of chalets and apartments being cordoned off, might have been more than the mooted 300…), there was still a paucity of seats, the rear-arena deckchairs having mysteriously gone missing as well. Note for next time, “Shiiine” – we’re not getting any younger, we all need to sit down once in a while! Anyway, thus (slightly) revived, I decided to subject myself again to NEDS ATOMIC DUSTBIN’s tender mercies. A band I’ve never gotten on with, and once again they did nothing to change my view. This just felt like a relentless throbbing and thudding bass-driven and monotone trial of endurance, one song merging into the next like so much mulch, and little in the way of vocals to distinguish the songs (vocalist and charisma-free zone Jon Penney’s dull vocals being submerged in the mix for me as well). “Happy”s change of pace and “Grey Cells Green”s slashing backbeat verse build-up to a racey hooky chorus were far and away their best numbers, also followed by the popular “Kill Your Television”. If they’d have just played those 3, I’d have been a happy boy (!), but then my crew mostly thought they were ace, so what the fuck do I know, eh?

 So then we were up for Saturday’s headliners INSPIRAL CARPETS, making their first “Shiiine On” appearance since the first one (AKA the one I didn’t go to). Now reunited with original vocalist Stephen Holt after keyboardist and main man Clint Boon fell out with Tom Hingley (who’d sung on the Carpets’ better-known songs and who had played a rather good actually “Shiiine” set with The Kar-Pets back in 2016), I was rather looking forward to them, as I’d come in with their “Trainsurfing” EP, which had featured Holt. Coming on to World Of Twist’s classic “The Storm” and a huge ovation for the buoyant Clint Boon, they were straight into the frantic baggy beat and Door-like keys of terrace chant opener “Joe”. However, things unfortunately immediately sounded off, the rendition rushed and cluttered. The 60’s B Movie car chase call-and-response of “Butterfly” was better, but Holt, his vocals more exposed in the mix, sounded flat and droney, even missing half a verse. Things didn’t improve with the puzzlingly early “This Is How It Feels”, the elegiac anthemic singalong being totally crowd-driven, and it became apparent that Tom Hingley might be a bit of a twat, but he was a much better singer for the Inspirals!

 I took a wander back to meet up with Rachel and Sarah behind the mixing desk and to see if things sounded better back there – however, they didn’t! “Move”, my favourite Inspirals track, was muddied and “I Want You” frankly dirge-like, all overlaid by these disappointingly flat vocals. I wouldn’t say this was the worst vocal performance I’d ever seen at a Festival – I’d seen Ian Brown’s self-destruction at Reading 1995, after all – but this was a major disappointment. The crowd lapped it up, lots of “moo”s greeting every track, which made me think either they didn’t care about the sound, or were totally twatted, or a bit of both… 

We took an early wander to Centre Stage before the Inspirals finished, and I grabbed a bit of barrier for the first of those intriguing late 90’s reunions I’d mentioned earlier. RIALTO, who’d impressed as Sleeper’s support at the Oasis in 1998 (gig. 368) took the stage at 10.15, the 5-piece smartly dressed in slightly baggy (but not David Byrne-level) suits and led by the floppy fringed, impossibly handsome Louis Eliot, who remarked, “It’s been a minute! This is the first gig we’ve played in 21 years!” If that was so, then this was an utterly remarkable return, as from the off their sweeping, 60’s kitchen sink drama Scott Walker meets Suede material sounded taut, tight and mighty fine, even shorn of the swelling orchestral arrangements which underpinned their studio output. “Hard Candy”s 60’s inflected plaintive riff ceded to the slow burn build to the sky-scraping choral hook of “Untouchable”, followed in short order by the seedy, Pulp-like moody rocker “Broken Barbie Doll” and Ziggy-era Bowie-esque backstreet ballad “London Crawling”. Eliot, clearly loving it up there, threw a Rialto tshirt into the crowd (their only piece of merchandise!) before the stately Walker Brotherisms of “The Underdogs”, then closer “Monday Morning 5.19” was the set highlight, wallowing, melancholy and yet soaring at the same time. Overall, a triumphant return! 

I took a wander back to the crew’s table on the balcony, and kept a watching brief for SLEEPER, next up. Attracting likely the biggest crowd of the weekend into Centre Stage, and led onstage by vocalist Louise Wener, clearly observing Sequin Saturday, they kicked things off with the bright ringing Britpop of “Pyrotechnician”, Lou’s breathy Eartha Kitt vocals to the fore. Unfortunately, for me the set took a little while to get going, a bit too much anonymous Indie fayre for my liking, despite the best efforts of an energetic Lou and hired hand guitarist, Desperate Journalist’s Charley Stone. However, “What Do I Do Now” was a bouncy singalong, and an unexpected cover of Pixies’ “Wave Of Mutilation”, Louise stretching the verse into a slow burn crowd singalong, was a surprise, to say the least! The more anticipated cover of Blondie’s bubbling disco classic “Atomic”, interspersed again with a mid-song singalong to “Love Will Tear Us Apart” was easily the best of set for me, the strutting “Inbetweener” and knockabout “Sale Of The Century” closing out a crowd-pleasing set which had some fine moments, but again from songs belonging to other people! The place then emptied and less than half the Sleeper crowd were left to greet THE SUPERNATURALS, on late at 1.15 a.m. after a fiddly soundcheck. I gave them a few numbers – they’d largely passed me by back in the day, and tonight initially sounded Summery and melodic in a sub-Teenage Fanclub way, but again the vocalist was too grating and monotone for so late in the day, so after they diverted into more OCS-landfill indie territory, I bailed, leaving my crew to suffer through them in order to get to Steve Lamacq’s Indie Disco at 2.30. Fair play – they all did!

 A threat of rain greeted us Sunday morning; thankfully it held off, so we didn’t need to drive over for lunch! So, we all took a nice wander along the Minehead seafront and over to The Old Ship Aground for a fine Carvery Sunday lunch, annoyingly being required to wait awhile for our lunch tokens, but ultimately well worth the wait! Unfortunately, the delay meant that a slow wander back pitched me up at the Inn On The Green about ¾ through JETSTREAM PONY’s well attended early afternoon set. Damn shame, as what I caught was bright, chunky and melodic female-fronted indie pop in a pacey strumalong C86 meets early Teenage Fanclub vein. Hopefully they’ll be back next year, and I can catch all of their set… 

I was however in place on the barrier for the second of the intriguing reunions I’d alluded to earlier, next to a chap I’d spoken to last year about my World Of Twist tshirt! Anyway, back to the music… I’d briefly caught LINOLEUM’S last number at Reading Festival 2000 (gig 456) and dismissed them as dated doom merchants. However I’d done my due diligence after seeing their name on this bill, picking up cheapo CD copies of their 2 albums, and realised my mistake, thoroughly enjoying their introspective goth/ post-punk tinged bedsit mood music, overlaid with the Mary Lorson-esque little girl lost vocals of Caroline Finch, who with trowelled-on mascara and a black beehive so high it needed scaffolding, was quite a looker in the old days… 23 years on, the mascara is still in place, along with a perma-grin rivalling Sice’s, as she led on her recently reformed (4^th gig in 21 years, apparently, this one…) 4-piece and eased into opener “She’s Sick”, all pseudo-goth drama and harsh slashing riffery from guitarist Paul Jones. The droney, Velvet Underground meets “Christine”-House Of Love “Your Back Again” followed, the band immediately hitting their stride, and the excellent “Dissent”, with the downbeat descending hook, was next up and an early highlight. “Marquis”’s discordant post-punk pin-prick rhythm recalled early Wire, and “Restriction” was a galloping dismissive moody piece which could have even been lifted from the first Pretenders album. However, their reading of early 80’s post-punkers’ The Passions’ classic “I’m In Love With A German Film Star” (“Our most recent single; it came out 23 years ago!” quipped a bubbly yet hitherto taciturn Finch) was the set highlight, eerie and building, with the band hitting that fine balance of remaining faithful to the original yet moving around enough furniture to make it their own. Overall, another impressive return! 

Grabbed a pic with a besieged Finch afterwards and chatted to the Abstraction Engine boys outside the Inn, before a light drizzle saw me head for the Skyline Arena, meeting the crew and catching the last number of ALEX LIPINSKI on the Skyline stage. His punchy Britpop/ powerpop sounded half decent actually, so I was sorry I missed most (if not all) of his set. Then, having little interest in The Farm and none at all in Fun Lovin’ Criminals, next up in the Arena, I headed back to the apartment for a late-afternoon lie down! 

Back in however for the last knockings of “Shiiine On”, for me at least; met Rach, had a pasty and phoned home, then back in our usual Skyline spot for the “Shiiine On” debuts of a couple of late 2000’s bands. First up at 20 past 7 was THE VIEW (who we arrived late for, following our pasty break!). I wasn’t much sold on this lot when I saw them on the 2007 NME “Brats Bus” new bands tour (gig 723), particularly their own crowd chant “The View are on fire”, and the first number we heard tonight, sung by bassist Kieren Webster and sounding like a mess of 2 numbers welded together, did nothing to change that view (sic). However, things improved when usual vocalist (and clearly part flamingo, judging by his propensity to stand on one leg) Kyle Falconer resumed lead duties, with “Allergic To Mornings” a knockabout Kinks-like singalong, and “Double Yellow Lines” a decent driving indie rocker. “Face For The Radio” was a quirky strumalong veering into Coral territory, and “Sunday” was my favourite, a galloping rocker with a helium chorus, “ramping up the tempo to cray cray,” as the affable Falconer put it. “Same Jeans”, their big hit and millstone number, was inserted late-set, but for me is still a total rip-off of Cornershop’s “Brimful Of Asha”, and I sang “BFA”’s lyrics along to it, whilst fending off some bloke who came up to me and announced, a propos of nothing, “that’s Kell Faulkner, he’s a wee fanny fae Dundee!” OK then! A couple of bouncy upbeat indie pop numbers and a rabble rousing closer “Shock Horror” rounded off a quite enjoyable set actually, better than I expected… Are The View on fire? Not sure, but smouldering nicely…

 The place got noticeably busier, and I lost Rach, who went for a drink and then piled down the front for Sunday headliners THE ENEMY, on at 8.45 to a purple smoky stage and The Who’s bilious, fist-pumping “Teenage Wasteland” as musical backdrop. This number pretty much set the tone for their set, as it happened, as vocalist and angry young man-in-chief Tom Clarke made it his goal to fire up and ignite the crowd into one final fist-pumping anti-establishment singalong sesh. “All you sleepy fuckers at the back! I can’t hear you!” he cried as they ripped into an intense and earnest opener “Aggro”, followed in short order by the bolshy, Jam-ish anthem “Away From Here”. Time clearly hasn’t calmed Clarke down, it seems… 

The Enemy were clearly a band on a mission and in a hurry tonight, with an aggressive “Had Enough” preceded by a “here we, here we, here we fucking go!” chant from Clarke, and initially the frantic pace seemed a bit unfocussed and relentless, particularly coupled with Clarke’s constant rabble rousing (one cry of, “I know some of you are getting old, and it’s past your bedtimes, but I don’t give a fuck!” being a bit jarring, with Jon at this point dipping out of the set because he was tired of being shouted at by the vocalist – fair enough really…). However, they hit their stride for me with the heartfelt “That’s Entertainment”-esque strumalong “We’ll Live And Die In These Towns”, the message of urban deprivation being more articulately conveyed by this number, followed up by an almost Bauhaus “Dark Entries”-like descending riff opening to the frantic, almost ska-rhythm of “You’re Not Alone”. Talking of ska, “40 Days And 40 Nights” saw Clarke reference fellow Coventrians The Specials, throwing a couplet from “Ghost Town” in the mid-section hook; then “This Song” was an anthemic manifesto for The Enemy massive, the hook ringing around the arena, then reprised a couple of numbers later to finish the set on an inclusive note. I liked them fine, loved the energy, and their hearts are definitely in the right place, but the intensity and earnestness seemed a little wearing at times. However, they fully justified their position as Sunday headliners, a point underlined by Rach who’d been in the mosh throughout; on the previous occasions we’d seen The Enemy she’d been pregnant both times (!) so happily made up for lost time tonight!

 That was it for me, musically at least; half the crew headed off to catch Stereo MCs in Centre Stage and I happily steered clear of that one, wandering back under an inky black but happily dry sky to our apartment with Jon and Martin. We chilled and chatted awhile, Jon ultimately deciding to go back and catch The Primitives’ late 12.30 set in Reds; remembering what an utterly shambolic car “Crash” they were at “Shiiine On” 2018 (gig 1,112), I decided not to join him, but afterwards Jon reported back that they were quite good, so hey ho… I hit the hay instead, then the following morning we once again had one final breakfast, checked out of the apartment and packed cars, then booked for next year! Fond farewells before a swift drive back to the ‘don, home at 2.30 after dropping Sarah off and doing the school run for our daughter. So, despite my trepidation, this was another brilliant weekend, because, as ever, “Shiiine On” is more than just the bands; it’s a time to catch up with old friends, relax, and enjoy the vibe. Plus, the weather was nowhere near as inclement as feared… and as for my last point, well, Gigolo Aunts are welcome to come over and play “Shiiine On” whenever they want!!

 

SHERIFF’S SHIIINE ON SELECTION

 Friday Best – THE WONDER STUFF

Saturday Best – RIALTO

Sunday Best – LINOLEUM

 Overall – 1. THE WONDER STUFF (3^rd time Top Band in 4 appearances across my 7 “Shiiine On”s)!

     2. BOO RADLEYS

     3. RIALTO

 Best New Band Got to be ABSTRACTION ENGINE! Yeah, I know I knew them already, but they’re new to “Shiiine On”, so there!

 We Can Be Heroes – MY CREW as ever, including newbies Jon and Sarah, and especially Rachel for making up for lost time in The Enemy moshpit; MILES HUNT for being a genuine bloke happy to chat with all and sundry; PAUL MALONE from CANDY OPERA who was happy to chat Liverpool rock’n’roll with me until the cows came home!

1,283 BOO RADLEYS (2 sets), Jules Reid, The Martial Arts, Reading South Street Arts Centre, Tuesday 13th June 2023

 

Hoping for a bounce back tonight, in more ways than one… following an indifferent Interpol gig last time out, mine hosts tonight are recently reformed (well, 3/4s of them, anyway…) 90’s Britpop stalwarts The Boo Radleys. Well, actually, lumping the Boos in with the Britpop crowd, an era which not only celebrated boorish misogynistic laddishness but also produced some crushingly dull landfill indie (step forward The Bluetones, Embrace and the kings of all dullards, O-bloody-a-bloody-sis), does them quite the disservice… similar to the likes of Pulp and Suede, the Boos were ploughing their own idiosyncratic furrow well before “Loaded” started sticking rock bands and union jacks on their covers, producing a work of widescreen 60’s infused psychedelic indie-pop excellence in 1993’s “Giant Steps” and taking a quantum leap forward from their difficult, more shoegazey origins in the process. And this tour promised a 30^th Anniversary full run-through of this enduring and sprawling masterpiece. It’s going to feel weird hearing this material without its’ author and sole missing original Boo, guitarist and friend-of-a-friend (hi Corin!) Martin Carr as part of the line-up, but these songs deserve to be heard, so I grabbed tix before this one ultimately sold out.

 So I hit the road for a sun-drenched drive to Reading, parking in the nearby cavernous Queens Road Car Park and hitting the venue just before 7.30 doors. A sell-out, maybe, but very quiet indeed early doors as I made my way into the very Gloucester Guildhall-like studio venue; in fact only 3 of us, myself and a pair of fellow Shiiiners, were present to greet opener The Martial Arts at 7.45! A one-man band, this; an impressively yellow trousered chap with guitar and floor fx pedals/ backing tapes. I’m usually no fan of this stuff, but his brief 60’s-inflected 3-song vignette was warm, big hearted and melodic, and seemed to answer the question as to what Teenage Fanclub would sound like if fronted by Gene Pitney! So I was kindly disposed to him.

 

Next up were the Boo Radleys! They took the stage in front of a thankfully fuller crowd and to a pastoral backing track at 8.15, then burst into the lush descending hook of equally 60’s-influenced opener “Find The Answer Within”, before black-clad vocalist Sice, resembling Frank Black’s Scouse nephew (!), scolded himself (“you can tell it’s been awhile; Sice, remember to turn your amp on!”) then gave us the heads-up on tonight’s proceedings. A brief career-spanning set first, then “Giant Steps” later… So, this opening 40 minutes touched on some post-Britpop stuff (the lazy, hazy summery vibe of “From The Bench At Belvedere”), recent post-reunion material (a funky “The Unconscious” about Sice’s psychoanalysis experiences (!) and “Full Syringe” a Fanclub-like chunky Big Star rocker with lovely 3-part harmonies, a happy feature throughout both sets) and a couple of older deep cuts to finish (the dramatic moody proto-shoegaze “Finest Kiss” and my set highlight, the juxtaposition of the splendid undulating guitar hook and dissonant verse of oldie “Lazy Day”), all played with verve and no little humour, sounding clear, splendid and well balanced, and promising much for the main set.

 A quick break before returning to my front row, house right spot for main support, Oxford-domiciled expat Scouser Jules Reid. A Gaz Brookfield-esque folk-punk solo acoustic guy complete with oft-deployed mouth organ, his set featured a poignant song about former Swindon Town player Joey Beauchamp and a lament about his wife’s ex-boyfriend’s sports car parked outside his house! A decent set which would go down well in the Tuppenny, methinks… Chatted with fellow punter and Reading local Andy afterwards about the venue – sell-out or not, the hall only ever seemed about 2/3rds full tonight! The Boos themselves were back on in fairly short order, the taped backing opening ceding to the strong-armed beat and descending hook of a loose-limbed, lugubrious “I Hang Suspended”, again sounding clear, fulsome and splendid, and we were away…

 For a sophomore album from a then relatively unknown indie band, 1993’s “Giant Steps” was ambitious in the extreme, incorporating widescreen, almost symphonic melody, Doors/ Beatles-influenced psychedelia and heavy dub rhythm, challenging but rarely over-reaching. And The Boos did it full justice tonight with an excellent run-through, one or two tiny bumps and bum notes along the way but for a first night of the tour, a well-rehearsed and surprisingly together sounding set. The dubby, change of pace “9^th And Fairchild” featured some excellent complex drum parts from Rob Ceika, “Butterfly McQueen”’s dramatic descent into discordant noise challenged Sice’s high register vocals, the man responding with a fine performance, and “Barney And Me” was irresistibly groovy, powered along by Tim Brown’s excellent bass fretwork, and got me throwing shapes from my front row spot. In lieu of “Run My Way Runway” (“it’s just noise…” complained Sice), an old B side, the widescreen Tex-Mex of “Buffalo Bill” featured mid-set before a medley featuring the stripped-back, pure McCartneyesque “Thinking Of Ways”, again coaxing a fine vocal from Sice.

 

But we were building up to one thing… “we released this twice to get it into the charts! Neither worked, so we had to write “Wake Up Fucking Boo”!” quipped Sice, before the languid dub and trumpet embellished opening of “Lazarus” suddenly burst into strident anthemic life, the soaring majesty of The Boo Radley’s finest hour easily tonight’s highlight for me. Brilliant. Sice, who’d been an affable and chatty frontman throughout, a perma-grin never far from his features, then dedicated jaunty, Beatles-esque closer “The White Noise Revisited” to Martin Carr, “who wrote the whole damn thing,” rounding off a set which felt like a celebration of a seminal and still wonderfully melodic 90’s album. That wasn’t it, though, as Sice and Tim popped out for brief chats; I told Sice my Martin Carr “litany of tunelessness” story, and he insisted on checking out the 90’s Boo Radleys setlist that Martin had referred to in that way (from their Portsmouth 1995 gig, no. 290)! Lovely bloke, and both he and Tim were complimentary of my dancing along (Sice commenting, “you looked as if you were having a great time!” my rejoinder being, “I was, but the bloke who was having a better time was you!”). I eventually tore myself away for a difficult exit out of Reading (getting stopped by every! Single! Fucking! Red! Light!) and midnight arrival home. A great one, this; expectations exceeded by some distance… a proper Boo Radley bounce back!

1,110 THE HOUSE OF LOVE, Thousand Yard Stare, Martin Carr, London The Roundhouse, Saturday 10th November 2018

A day (and evening) out in London that didn’t go exactly as planned, but was entertaining and fun nonetheless…

I’d jumped on this right away; after 80’s Indie guitar legends The House Of Love had announced a showcase date at London’s prestigious Roundhouse to play a 30^th Anniversary show celebrating their debut album, a ubiquitous effort that saw them arrive, fully-formed, with a collection of erudite, well-constructed songs melding their evident sonic influences (60’s classics The Byrds and Velvet Underground, 80’s post-punkers Echo And The Bunnymen and Jesus And Mary Chain) into a cohesive whole, I’d put the shout-out on Facebook, and was quickly joined by Messrs. Moore, May and Craven. Sorted tix; however Mr. Craven dropped out due to family issues, but Jason recruited his pal and my old BT colleague Alan to join us. As the gig fell on a Saturday, this was a no-brainer; record and comic shopping day in Camden – yay!

I’d sorted a parking spot on parkonmydrive.com, so I picked Alan and Jason up at 11 under rainy, foreboding skies, outpacing the weather on the drive oop the Smoke, finding our parking spot after a couple of wrong turns, and taking a walk into Camden, getting into the shops just as the rains arrived. The boys headed off for Soho and I ducked into a record shop to get out of the rain; however, after 10 minutes in said dank and depressing record shop looking through crappy old Beggars & Co and Carmel vinyl, 10 minutes more in Mega City Comics (where the nearest I got to buying something was some 1973 UK Avengers comics, just for nostalgia's sake), and a desultory tramp up the High Street in the increasingly pissing rain, I'd had enough and come to an inescapable conclusion. Today was not going to turn out as planned, and not just because of the weather; simply put, Camden is an utter shithole! Maybe it always was, maybe it's my age, but I can't believe I'd romanticised the place sufficiently to want to waste a day here. The fact that the queue to get on the tube and get the hell out of Dodge spread all around the corner, entire pavement-wide, said it all for me. Fuck waiting in that, I thought; I trudged down to Mornington Crescent, headed over to Forbidden Planet and promptly spent the thick end of £70 on (mainly sale price) graphic novels! Yay!

Back over to dump my purchases in the car, then headed over to the venue in the drizzle, meeting up with Rich May, who’d caught the train up, in the adjacent bar at 6. We had our tickets scanned, so we were in! Rich pointed out unexpected support act Martin Carr, and I popped over for a chat about our mutual friend, my Boston buddy Corin Ashley, including the story of when I visited Corin in Cardiff for an evening drink after he'd been recording with Martin - I'd taken along a gigbook containing a Boo Radleys setlist, and Martin's wife had texted a pic of it back to the babysitting Martin, eliciting a text reply of "a litany of tunelessness"!!

 

So Rich and I, now joined by Rich's brother Colin, wandered in to see Martin's set at 7.20, in the hope of something tuneful...! Accompanied by 2 gents on synth and bass, the lengthy opener featured some cultured, intricate and haunting guitar over some atmospheric synth backbeats, before he finally took the mic, revealing himself as a lilting vocalist of no little note. Nice! The second number ("Enemies Of The People"?) was a more straightforward psych-pop 60's workout, before his vignette ended with an unexpected "Lazarus", a stripped-back reading of the Boo Radleys classic ending in an extended funky break. A real curveball from Mr. Carr!

 

The old engine shed was filling up nicely, as the main support took the stage at 8. "The Roundhouse, eh? Flippin' eck, it's full... We're Thousand Yard Stare from the 80's!" quipped rakish vocalist Stephen as the band, who looked like they'd been giving their singer their allotted portions of the elixir of youth, nonetheless burst into a frantic "Version Of Me". As per their 2016 "Shiine On" set, their libidinous baggy dance-pop was delivered at a furious, Lauda-esque pace, and Stephen was again a vaguely unsettling onstage presence, prowling around, speaking in tongues and making odd hand gestures. An early "Buttermouth" was great fun, "Seasonstream" ("this wasn't on the EP [of the same name] as I was trying to be a clever fucker when I was 20!") was creepy and moody, and whilst the mid-set meandered along pleasantly enough, the penultimate "0-0 AET", featuring the original drummer, still recovering from illness, was a loose-limbed set highlight. Good set again from the self-deprecating Thousand Yard Who?

 

We kept our spot near the front, but it got seriously crammed down there; also, we seemed to be in the vicinity of some folks who clearly don't get out much, and don't really know how to comport themselves properly when out in a busy place. Bah! Still, we had a band to concentrate on, and the lights dimmed at 9.15, guitarist Terry Bickers taking the stage first, ever the virtuoso perfectionist, making final checks before his bandmates joined him. "30 years ago we released our debut album under the watchful eye of Alan McGhee" (the Creation Records boss, who'd acted as between-band DJ tonight, looking unfortunately like Uncle Albert from "Only Fools And Horses"), announced vocalist Guy Chadwick, before they eased into opening track "Christine", its wall-of-guitar building from a surprisingly understated opening to a more powerful "ba-ba ba-ba-ba" looped climax.

 

This pretty much set the tone; the sound was perfect, the band delivering this classic album with respect and hallowed devotion, but, aside from the odd snatch of crunchy riffery from Sir Bickers, the undoubted star of the show(the guitar breaks in "Hope", which also saw some high kicks from the still-youthful guitarist, and the thunderous building climax of "Love In A Car") it all felt a little understated, introspective, low-key even, the sparse, almost hushed "Man To Child" encapsulating their approach. My mood probably wasn't helped by the guy in front of me remaining stock still throughout, but I, rather churlishly, felt like the artillery guy from "Good Morning Vietnam"; “can we play anything for you?" "Anything! Just play it loud! Okay?!!”

 

Album dispensed with, they did actually crank it up at last; "Marble" was dynamic, underpinned by a creepy bassline, "A Baby Got Back" was punchy and undulating, and the underrated "I Don't Know Why I Love You" just rocked with pleading intensity. But they saved their best for the set closer; after fulsome thanks from Mr. Bickers ("we're so happy you could join us for this celebration"), "Destroy The Heart" was powerful, epic and totally worth the admission price on its own. Great way to end the set!

 

After the inevitable encore of the plangent "Shine On", a friendly roadie handed me a list at the second attempt (!), and I was deluged by folks wanting to get a pic! Ran into old Lev friends Kate and Rachel on the way out for a chat, before a thankfully dry hike back to the car for midnight and a quick exit out of London, home at a bleary-eyed 2am after dropping the guys (including Rich, who joined us on the drive back) home. On reflection, I was probably being harsh with my "louder!" views, as much of that first album material is more delicate and introspective. On the whole, they did excellent justice to it; a gig worthy of such a notable celebration, after a fun, if different than anticipated, day up the Smoke!

 

174 THE HEART THROBS, The Boo Radleys, The Popinjays (well, sort of...), London University Of London Union, Friday 26 October 1990

After an easy drive down the M4 then a hectic journey from Chiswick, we arrived to see the Popinjays playing a set outside the venue, in protest at a promoter's booking mix-up! Hmmm. Real support band The Boo Radleys, a band I'd later come to love, tonight didn't impress me at all. The vocalist Sice resembled "Police Academy" character Z, and the band sounded poor, leaden and one-dimensional, so I spent much of their set in the bar.

The Heart Throbs came on at 10 to 10, opening with "Dreamtime" and playing a dreamy set of thoughtful pop tunes, mixing in some harder rocking stuff as well. Lacking the obvious pop fizz of the likes of The Primitives, or the class of The Parachute Men (but hey, everyone lacks that), they're carving their own niche and proving themselves purveyors of good old angst-ridden female fronted pop with an entertaining set, my highlight being the excellent "Slip And Slide".

(Well, I was damning them with faint praise for this one, but of course the Heart Throbs got a whole lot better.. and so did the Boo Radleys!)