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!

1,291 THE WONDER STUFF, Ian Prowse, Southampton The 1865, Wednesday 26th July 2023

 

Quite an eventful one, this, and not all for the right reasons, but first, here’s my intro blurb…

The Wonder Stuff’s recent original album celebration odyssey reaches a conclusion with this “ID30T” tour, commemorating the 30^th Anniversary release of their 4^th and final first-time-round album, “Construction For The Modern Idiot”… Hot on the heels of their most commercial (and arguably successful) release, “Never Loved Elvis”, this one toned down “Elvis”’ flippant fiddly diddly indie pop tuneage just a tad, in favour of a more studious, streamlined and rockier sound evidenced on darker, more dynamic leadoff single “On The Ropes”, which remains my favourite Wonder Stuff track, and was supposed to catapult them to arena (and possibly higher) status. Unfortunately, it did the opposite, the subsequent 1994 mega “Idiot Manoeuvres” tour (on which I saw them 3 times, largely due to the presence of my favourites Gigolo Aunts as support act) sadly precipitating the band’s initial breakup later that year. Happily, though, they’re now back with us, and have of late established themselves as one of the most reliable and thrilling “live” acts of the past few years (particularly at “Shiiine On”, where main-man Miles Hunt is a regular presence, either with the band or solo). Plus, we’ve seen them do the other 3 albums, so we’re not about to miss this one, right?

 A minor wrist operation earlier today, requiring both regional (block) and general anaesthesia (more on that later!) precluded me from driving, so Rachel took the reins, the 3 of us (Logan in tow for two gigs in two nights!) picking up fellow Stuffies devotee Robynne for the usual swifter than expected drive down to the South Coast, parking up just round the corner from the venue and heading in for 7.30, just as the support took the stage. Not the Gigolo Aunts this time, sadly; however Ian Prowse, frontman of 90’s Celtic-tinged folky rockers Pele and a man who humorously (I hope!) called me a cunt at Shiine On 2017 (!) admirably stepped up, duetting with virtuoso violinist Laura McMillan (AKA the Great Macca of Stirling, according to Prowsey). Sandwiched between a couple of jaunty, fiddly-diddly Pele numbers (“Fair Blows The Wind For France” and “Fireworks”) was an excellent “My Name Is Dessie Warren”, an upbeat yet hard-hitting old school class struggle anthem reminiscent of The Men They Couldn’t Hang, plus plenty of chat and bonhomie from a voluble Prowse (including a fine tribute to tonight’s headliners; “how the hell do you open up for one of the greatest UK bands of all time?”). A splendid vignette ended with the usual barbed anti-Sun comment (“I can see by your kindly beautiful faces that none of you would stoop so low as to read that fucking rag”), before a heart-rending final singalong to “Does This Train Stop On Merseyside?”. Lovely stuff, once again!

 The Stuffies themselves were due on in short order thereafter at 8.30, however technical issues delayed their arrival until 8.45, by which the place (surely sold out on the night) was fit to burst. They opened with a jaggedly rhythmic “Change Every Lightbulb”, Miles taking the stage last and bellowing the hook through a bullhorn, then “I Wish Them All Dead” was strident, savage and utterly superb. “We’ve got the dark ones out of the way; now let’s have some fun!” quipped Milo before a boisterous “Cabin Fever” (announcing at its’ conclusion, “that should have been a hit single – you’ll be hearing THAT from me a lot tonight!”) and by this point I’m already thinking, these “Idiot” songs sound absolutely blistering “live”! How the hell is it that more of them don’t feature as part of their regular set???

 Well, apparently not everyone shared my views, according to Miles, who later referenced, “two assholes on the internet who have pissed me off,” by complaining about The Stuffies playing, “awful songs from their worst album,” on this tour. Well, bunkies, you couldn’t be more wrong! “Full Of Life” fully lived up to its title, as celebratory and life-affirming as anything on display tonight, and a frankly astonishing “On The Ropes” totally blew the doors off, with a rendition as good as I’ve ever – EVER – seen The Wonder Stuff play my favourite Wonder Stuff song. A later, poignant “Sing The Absurd” was also a surprisingly emotive highlight, before a couple of overlooked yet still excellent “B” sides rounded off the “Idiot”-centric first set splendidly, completely underlining the validity of doing this tour.

 Then things unfortunately went a little South for me… I suddenly realised that the mixture of a packed sweaty rock venue and double anaesthesia isn’t necessarily a good one, and, feeling distinctly faint, sought some fresh air, ultimately propping myself outside in the rain in the care of the doormen… Rach grabbed me some sugary drinks and I ultimately ventured back inside, but only just, and I was firmly installed on the cloakroom girl’s stool, right at the back of the venue, as The Stuffies returned for set 2 of the night. Running 20 minutes late at this point, Miles eschewed the chat to concentrate on the rock; a galloping “No For The 13^th Time” was followed by the sweeping hometown paean “Caught In My Shadow” and fiddle-tastic singalong “Golden Green”, the tumbling circular violin riff of “Here Comes Everyone” was a late highlight, then The Stuffies ploughed through the encores to keep to curfew with a rambunctious “Unbearable” and shuddering “Ten Trenches Deep”. The band were clearly on absolute top form; a shame I wasn’t!

 We all met up afterwards, Logan having enjoyed himself in the mosh, and I chatted briefly with facebook friend Pete Cole outside before a difficult journey home up an utterly awash A34 and M4. Still groggy, I spent most of the next day in bed! So, an eventful one indeed, although an inescapable conclusion from tonight is that “Construction For The Modern Idiot” is a great album fully worthy of its’ place in the Wonder Stuff canon, and of being deservedly given its’ time in the spotlight on this tour. As for the rest, I’ll just have to make sure I’m fully fit for when The Stuffies doubtless smash it all up at Shiiine On in November!

1,177 ELVIS COSTELLO AND THE IMPOSTERS, Ian Prowse, Southampton Mayflower Theatre, Sunday 1st March 2020

First of a currently scheduled 7 in a packed and stacked gig month of March, and this one is pretty much solely down to my Boston friend Dennis... during my visit to "The Hub" last November, Denny was kind enough to offer me accommodation, putting me up in his "Elvis Room", a veritable shrine to Mr, Costello with framed and signed posters and art prints adorning all walls. Denny's enthusiasm for Elvis - who he'd apparently seen "live" north of 80 times - was contagious, and he persuaded me to check out this tour. Costello, New Wave's bespectacled and be-suited snarling, angry young man, latterly turned genre-straddling musical chameleon, hall-of-fame singer/songwriter and near-National Treasure, had been a 70's Punk/New Wave icon who had largely eluded me, a clutch of skinny-tie, herky-jerky 7-inchers and a fine "Greatest Hits" collection notwithstanding. So, after picking up tix for this one (persuading old friend Ben to join me along the way), I also picked up Costello's first 3, punky and reactionary yet well-crafted and eminently tuneful albums, enjoying them immensely, and immediately appreciating why Costello is held in such high esteem not only by Dennis, but also by many of my Boston rock friends (The Gravel Pit being an obvious one here). Why haven't I done this before?



I texted Dennis back to inform him that I'd sorted tix for Elvis' Southampton gig, receiving the response, "I may well see you there David!" And he wasn't joking, Denny making the reverse of one of my Boston rock pilgrimages to catch a couple of the UK tour dates! So we made dinner plans beforehand, Ben and I meeting Dennis after a leisurely mid-afternoon run down to the South Coast, thence joining his friends Jillian and Claire (like Dennis, both veteran Elvis fans, both also having seen the man 80-90 times - although Jillian also claimed to have seen the Rolling Stones 250 times!) in the Mayflower's restaurant. Fine food, good company and rock banter passed the time convivially, until a helpful bell heralded the countdown to showtime, so Ben and I took our splendid front stalls seats, house right, as support Ian Prowse took the stage at 7.30, accompanied by a violinist and keyboardist to provide accompaniment to his easily melodic, Irish folk- inflected indie-acoustica. Opening with a jolly rendition of his old band Pele's "Fireworks" and continuing that vein with "Taking On The World", Prowse again impressed, the stripped-back treatment proving just as effective as his band set at Shiiine On in 2017. A couple of slower, windswept and evocative ballads also showcased his near-virtuoso backing wingmen (wing-people?), and this endearing vignette of a set was concluded with "Does This Train Stop On Merseyside?", dedicated, "to the people who refuse to read "The Sun"!"



I lost Ben in the foyer (he'd headed back to the restaurant for dessert!), so took the chance for some time with Mr. Prowse, manning the merch stand as promised. Got a pic and reminded him of our "Shiiine On" conversation (wherein he'd responded to my lack of familiarity with his work with the immortal phrase, "that, sir, makes you a cunt!") to general hilarity and sincere (but totally unnecessary) apologies from the man. Back in at the bell, so I was in place as the lights fell dead on 8.30, Elvis taking the stage last in an iridescent black jacket, and kicking into the swinging honky tonk blare of strident opener "Strict Time".



Thence followed a perfectly chosen set for a relative Costello virgin such as myself, a veritable "Greatest Hits" run- through, thankfully (for me at least) relatively free of the Man's latter-day excursions into easy listening, traditional blues and jazz, genres mostly meaningless to my narrow-arsed guitar rock musical tastes. So from the get-go, I completely enjoyed this set, I really did... that said, and despite his affable enthusiasm and easy, witty between-song banter ("I was in this venue 30 years ago... up on the balcony with Kia Ora; at least that's what she said her name was...") Elvis initially sounded low in a cluttered and busy-sounding mix, that oh-so distinctive voice a little buried, and his occasional predilection for singing behind the melody line also made certain numbers feel a little disjointed. An early, synth pulse and voice only "Green Shirt" was however great, bucking this initial trend, although I'd have done without the swathes of wah-wah feedback over "(I Don't Want To Go To) Chelsea". Less is more!

The flamboyant trad-bluesy rock'n'roll of "Mystery Dance" steered things in a clearer-sounding direction, although a subsequent "American Without Tears", a part of a piano-led triad, sounded badly off-key. Thereafter, however, it was like the clouds parting, the set suddenly sounding utterly spot on, and Elvis' voice taking flight on the stunning, heart-cracking ballad "Good Year For The Roses". Back off the piano stool, "Beyond Belief" was a rambunctious rocker, a highlight as the set really gathered momentum, and set closer "Alison", despite again slowing the pace, was plaintive and excellent.



However, if the set was variable, from sound-affected okay to excellent and all points between, the encores were all utterly brilliant, splendidly chosen and superbly executed. A lengthy "Everyday I Write The Book" showcased the virtuoso band and backing singers; "Oliver's Army" (pretty much my 3rd Year Senior class anthem, back in 1979!) was a wonderful, emotive memory-jogger; but the man saved easily the best until last, a rattling and rocking rendition of "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding", over 40 years old but still as relevant as ever, a manifesto for these troubled and divided times. A perfect way to end an ultimately totally worthwhile 2 hours in the company of a musical icon.

No list though - a friendly roadie confirmed they're not allowed to hand them out ("orders from the boss!"), but Ben and I bumped into Dennis on our way out, and joined him for a short wait in slight drizzle, eventually being rewarded with pics and brief chats with Elvis and a more voluble keyboardist Steve Nieve . Nice one! A swift hammer home saw us hit the 'don and home just after 12.30, after an overall very fine start to a busy March. Dennis, thanks for the push; glad I took your advice to see Elvis, and now I'm only 89 times behind you...!

1,062 THE 2017 “SHIIINE ON” WEEKENDER, Various Venues at Butlins Resort, Minehead, Friday 10th – Sunday 12th November 2017

Well, we liked it so much last year, we were back for more… back to Minehead for the third (and our second) “Shiiine On” Weekender! And this time, it was also, for me, a case of, “careful what you wish for…” as joining returnees “The Big Man”, Matt and myself at this now-annual celebration of 80’s/ 90’s Indie and Dance music and culture, as our 4^th chalet member, was my dear lady wife Rachel! Well, I did say about last year that I couldn’t think of 2 better people than Rich and Matt to share the weekend with, “Rachel notwithstanding…”! Plus, her presence removes any doubt and awkwardness as to whom would be sharing the double bed in the chalet!

Leading up to the big weekend itself, my missus also entered into some drink-related text banter with the boys, which I guess at least took her mind off the late withdrawal of her potential highlights Sultans Of Ping FC, weakening an already nowhere-near-as-good-as-last-year bill (I mean, Embrace as headliners? Landfill indie of the first water!). Still, nonetheless, it was an excited and anticipatory trio that headed down from Swindon on a bruisingly cold but sunny Friday, hitting the resort for 1.30 then having to queue in the longest and slowest-moving queue to get our wristbands and intro packs. Next year, I’m booking under the name of Xerxes, no messin’… Anyway, we then met Matt on the seafront for the now-traditional opening day fish and chips, before heading into our Silver Apartment, on the far side of the site this year, to get squared away before the festivities started.

So, into the arena for 4 pm, where a large and expectant crowd heralded the first significant entrance of the weekend - that of JIM BOB of Carter USM, bounding onstage suited and booted to the "One Foot In The Grave" soundtrack intro and jauntily declaring, "Butlins! Never thought I'd ever say that..." then adding ironically, "anyone here come straight from work? I'm still at work, you cunts!" Despite initial set-up problems with his acoustic guitar, my former Jamie Wednesday correspondent then played a fun, pun-laced set of Carter's various hits and misses, the knockabout, Cockernee music hall nature of the material standing up well to this acoustic treatment. "Prince In A Paupers Grave" morphed into a maudlin drinking song, and "Every Time A Church Bell Rings" became a bitter and acerbic social commentary, introduced with, "Jarvis Cocker was right, cunts are still running the world!" The erstwhile Mr. Morrison turned a chant of, "you fat bastard!" into a tribute to Carter’s former manager, the late Jon Beast, with a touching, "RIP you beautiful wonderful man," the subsequent huge singalong to the splendid-sounding "Only Living Boy In New Cross" the set highlight. "This Is How It Feels", the old Inspiral Carpets number, was dedicated to Clint Boon's pool party, and the double of a singalong "Sheriff Fatman" and a stark "Impossible Dream" featuring snatches of Bowie's "Rock And Roll Suicide" finished an entertaining opening set. You're wonderful, Jim, gimme your hands!

A quick drink break at the bar at the back of the venue, running into both Kate Hayden for a quick chat about diabetic offspring, then Russ Hunt and his charming wife Deb, before hanging back whilst the rest of the crew went in for POP WILL EAT ITSELF. Never been a fan, finding their rap/indie dance mash-up a bit grubby and laddish, although I confess I'm more kindly disposed to them these days than I was for, say, their horrendous Reading 1991 set. Plus, at least they're not The Levellers...! So I almost enjoyed the likes of "Can U Dig It" and "Dance Of The Mad", both of which got the joint jumping, and were played by this 2017 PWEI iteration (only Graham Crabb and Richard March remaining from the original line-up, along with recent recruit Mary Byker from Gaye Bykers On Acid!) with energy and enthusiasm. Not my bag, but my crew loved it, so what the fuck do I know?

However, next up were the nearest to a nailed-on Sure Thing all weekend, something we could all agree on. THE WONDER STUFF were Band Of The Festival last year, and tonight laid down a serious marker for this year, with a stunning set of their virus-level catchy, fiddle-inflected strident indie-power pop. From Miles' "Oi! Oi!" introductory rallying cry and the opening bars of superb lead-off track "Red Berry Joy Town", through the powerful, four-to-the-floor yet totally joyous singalong "On The Ropes", via the flippant, chugging "Unbearable" and the more fiddle-based mid-set, to the "Groove Machine"-oriented final barrage culminating in a thunderous "Ten Trenches Deep", this was again a great, rabble-rousing, all-inclusive Festival set. "We're going to attempt to cool it down a bit as there's not enough defibrillators in the room to go round!" quipped the sartorially elegant Miles, resplendent this time in check tablecloth shirt and grey kilt, however the crowd were having none of it and were there to party. Ourselves included, as we were in the mosh from the off, although Rach had to withdraw as some dickhead (in all honesty, the only one we encountered all weekend) was throwing his weight around near her (this also got the vigilant Russ' attention from his stage-tight guitar tech position). The only dampener on an otherwise great Stuffies set.

Whilst the rest of my crew stayed in for Arena headliners The Levellers, I had other plans, as I can't stand them! Luckily, neither can Russ, so I met up with him and Deb for a drink and some convivial rock conversation in Hotshots for an hour or so. Nice to catch up with this splendid and knowledgeable gent. 

Returned to the main arena after the Levellers’ set, as the crowd dispersed into various after-hours stages; we wandered off into Jaks, the small pub-like venue at the back of the arena, for THE ORCHIDS, kicking off at 10.30 with some pleasant if somewhat innocuous drippy C86 jangle pop. Wallpaper music really, so we popped back into the arena, sat in deckchairs and got some late night snacks! THE TRAIN SET, next up in Jaks, were more substantial fayre, with some robust sounding shouty post-baggy rock, underpinned by the ubiquitous (at the time!) funky drummer beat. "She's Gone", a rattling-good tune in the vein of The Coral (only better!), and a darker newie, "That's My World" were my highlights of a decent set. I stayed in with Rich then, enjoying some choice DJ selections (XTC, Bunnymen and Orange Juice amongst them) before THE WOODENTOPS eventually joined us after a fiddly soundcheck, vocalist Rolo announcing, "let's take the tempo up a bit!" as they kicked into their set 15 minutes late at 12.45 am. The band from the 80's whose "live" performances always transcended their studio output, they'd disappointed with a patchy “slight return” a decade ago, but tonight seemed in better nick, the taut, wired rockabilly rhythm of opener "Get It On" evidencing this, galloping along at a ferocious pace. Inevitably, they couldn't keep up this frenetic velocity, although they did manage to do so in snatches (e.g the chaotic denouement to an otherwise French 60's B-movie type new number, and the frantic pulsing beat of "Well Well Well"), yet it was the lighter touches which shone through - the calypso sway of "Good Thing", creepyunderpinning  bass of "Last Time" and libidinous groove of "Give It Time", f’rinstance. The echoey-sounding Rolo was also in an odd and somewhat bolshy mood, namechecking a steward who had threatened to throw him out earlier during one number, and launching into an extended and perplexing, almost free-form jam for their penultimate number, as the set wore on considerably past its scheduled finish time. A final, excellent "Plenty" capped a curate’s egg of a set as the time bumped on until 2 and the clearly pissed-off DJ launched into his own, half-hour-late, set. Nevertheless, I ruminated as I wearily headed back to the chalet, at least it sounded waaaay better than that 100 Club "Slight Return"!

Day two promised very few musical highlights; a very good thing, as it subsequently transpired! A "Big Man Special" fried brekky after a lazy morning set me and Rach up for Clint Boon's lunchtime pool party, which we popped along to via Kate's "gin window"! The pool party itself was fun, but Boon inexplicably pissed off after an hour, leaving some stranded and flailing Butlins attendant to backfill with some odd musical choices. Back to the chalet afterwards, then off into the mid-afternoon arena, ignoring SPACE on the main stage 'cos they're rubbish, and eventually wandering into the Inn On The Green for BMX BANDITS. With their classy, bouncy indie pop with C86 and melodic Big Star/ Teenage Fanclub inflections, and led by vocalist Duglas Stewart, who with his tweed jacket, scarf and gregarious, easy-going manner, reminded me of my chiropractor (!), they were an absolute delight and easily the best thing on, on an admittedly-thin middle day. "Serious Drugs", made famous by my mid-90s Boston buddies Gigolo Aunts, was an obvious set highlight, as was Duglas phoning up TFC's Norman Blake and leaving him a message on his answerphone! Unfortunately, by this time Rach, who'd hit the gin window and the breakfast vodka pretty hard, was a little the worse for wear, so I missed the end of their set getting her back to the chalet to sleep it off!

And that was basically it, music-wise for a few hours! Thankfully, the likes of Starsailor, Fun Loving Criminals and Embrace held little to no attraction for me, so I was happy to sit in the chalet for the evening hours watching TV until Rach, amazingly, revived and declared herself fit for some late-night musical shenanigans! So off we went, via a trip to the La's photo exhibition and a fun chat about Liverpool music with the proprietor (an acquaintance of The Wild Swans' Paul Simpson!). Then into Reds for WOLFGANG FLUR, due on at 10.30. The former Kraftwerk man joined us at 10.45, DJing some teutonic synth music underpinned by a heavy, pounding dance beat and accompanied by a slideshow which mainly depicted portraits of the artist as a young man, with his former bandmates. "The following is suitable for dancing - you are invited to" read one early slide, and whilst that may have been so, the relentless beat made it difficult listening, so we decamped to Jaks for the last knockings of MY DRUG HELL''s very mod-ish, 60's Brit-beat pop set. Final number, "Gypsy's Soul" was typical of their oeuvre, having possibly walked straight out of The Kinks' songbook. Stayed for THE WENDYS, who mined a seam of groovy baggy dance, with a more acerbic, almost Fall-like in-your-face vocal overload. Okay, I guess, with "Plastic Jesus" a highlight.

I then left the crew to Hurricane #1's render mercies and wandered over to Centre Stage for my only such visit of the whole weekend! Running into Steve Lamacq on the staircase for a pic and an extremely quick few words on my late 80's darlings The Parachute Men (of whom Lamacq was also a fan), I then took a spot on the barriers at the front, for the entrance of CUD at 1 am to a considerably bigger and more enthusiastic (or drunk!) crowd than last year. "Good evening and well done! I've been in my dressing room for 7 ½ hours!" quipped pliable vocalist Carl Puttnam, before wiggling and gyrating his way through the frantic jangle of opener "Get Us Out". A propos to their recent UK tour, this was a singles-orientated set, the taut, funky "Hey! Wire", a racey, hooky "One Giant Love" and the libidinous, almost smutty "Strange Kind Of Love" tumbling thereafter in quick succession. "I was pleased to hear that the adjective most used to describe my band is "legendary"!" boasted Puttnam; a slight exaggeration, sure, and not entirely justified on tonight’s evidence as for me, there was a fair amount of fat in the set. However, the likes of "Hey Boots" and "Robinson Crusoe" were little belters, and the cover of The Kinks' "Lola" was an orgiastic delight, with a drippingly lecherous vocal performance from Puttnam. Overall, a fine way to end an odd but memorable day two!

A day three littered with potential highlights kicked off again with a Big Man fry up! Everyone set off before me to catch UKE2 at The Inn On The Green at midday, and I caught up with them in this rammed little pub venue after a shower. An odd proposition, this lot; 3 baggy-haired gents playing Britpop and indie staples on ukuleles! Nonetheless, this was an all-inclusive, check-your-cynicism/cool-at-the-door, good time singalong performance, with the likes of "Disco 2000", "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" and "Sit Down" raising the roof, and "I Am The Resurrection" a suitable punctuation point on a fun set.

Wandered into the main arena with Rach, bumping into the Make A Wish puppets Walter and Eustace for a pic on the way down the front, for somewhat of a revelation! IAN PROWSE, former frontman of Pele (for whom my only previous experience had been a short set on Reading 1992 Sunday, when the Big Tent re-opened following repairs due to the high winds, and which in all honesty I paid scant attention to, as I was lamenting the cancellation of Power Of Dreams and Captain America!) and recommended by Russ, was playing a largely fiddle-driven upbeat and eminently tuneful folky pop set, with an extensive backing band, and doing so rather splendidly, actually! A rambunctious "Raid The Palace", which Prowse dedicated, "to the government of a J Corbyn... which is coming!" then segued seamlessly into a frankly amazing cover of The Clash’s classic "London's Calling"; then, before a poignant and affecting closer "Does This Train Stop At Merseyside?", a buoyed Prowse announced, "be kind to each other, in your heart and soul, and the best way to do that is to never ever read "The Sun" newspaper!" Great stuff, prompting me to dash over to the merch stand afterwards and buy his CD, stopping the man on the way back to sign my set-list!

A nice appetiser to a promised and pre-established highlight, as up next were THE ICICLE WORKS, with unkempt and raffish mainman Ian McNabb leading his gang of ruffians onstage at 3 and kicking into sweeping, heroic opener "When It All Comes Down", which he then, perversely, stretched into a Neil Young-like 8 minute guitar workout! Thereafter, though, and despite struggling with the vocal mix (asking on numerous occasions to turn it down), McNabb delivered exactly the performance we'd hoped for; a sharp and snappy, virtually "Greatest Hits" run-through, replete with widescreen, windswept choruses suitable for some raucous arms-aloft singing along, driving guitar riffs, epic brain-hugging hooks and just enough prog styling to keep on the right side of overblown self-indulgence.

"Evangeline" was a keyboard-driven delight, "Starry Blue Eyed Wonder"'s elegiac opening broke like a greyhound from the traps into a big riff-heavy rocker, and "Understanding Jane" was thunderous, the audience backfilling the huge hooks before a cacophonous false finish. McNabb himself just concentrated on the rock, rather than demonstrating any of his mad-as-a-box-of-frogs tendencies, as per his Facebook postings, and the set was the better for it. An anthemic "Hollow Horse" finished a slightly raggedly delivered but overall splendidly chosen set, totally living up to the pre-fest billing. Great stuff!

THE WEDDING PRESENT were next up in short order, amazingly starting with an incendiary version of debut single "Once More", David Gedge's elastic wrist strumming away at light-speed. "Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah" followed, breathless and full-sounding – a hell of a start, they can't keep this up, surely?!

Inevitably, the answer was no. "This Is an album called "George Best"," deadpanned Gedge as they strummed their way into "Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft", the opener from that “classic” 1986 debut album. The subsequent run-through was intriguing but uneven, with numbers such as the melancholic "A Million Miles" and a savage, punky "All This And More" holding up well, but others not really standing the test of time for me. I dunno, their tongue-in-cheek slogan of "all the songs sound the same" seemed quite appropriate tonight, and I found myself more entertained by the young drummer's facial expressions than by their subsequent set! Not bad overall, but they'd opened with their best 2 numbers (by a million miles!) and thereafter all seemed a little samey.

Better than THE FARM, though, whose echoey baggy styling provided the backdrop for tea, the crew wandering into the arena late-on to check out their set closer, the ubiquitous baggy anthem "All Together Now". But we knew there were some real classic indie anthems, just around the corner...!

"I've just seen Bez in the car park, do check your cars later!" quipped PETER HOOK as he led his band THE LIGHT onstage for their early evening set. Then the synth beat of New Order’s game-changing dance crossover classic "Blue Monday" kicked into gear, Hooky already imperiously conducting both his band and the enthusiastic and engaged crowd, his low-slung bass stance unmistakable. "True Faith" followed, big, bold and puffed out, Hooky remarking, "I used to work at Butlins... I poisoned all your mothers and fathers!" "Temptation" was quite brilliant, the pulsating synth and multi-layered hook driving the song, before Hook diverted away from the synth-fuelled New Order material and into rockier, darker Joy Division territory via a snarling, seething "Digital". The brooding, morose "She's Lost Control" was powered by a harsh, synth-snap rhythm, but the subsequent, roaring "Transmission" and stately, widescreen "Ceremony" were all about Hooky, his growling vocals and distinctive bass chord patterns both standout features. All too soon, Hooky heralded the end of this wonderful hour-long set with a tongue-in-cheek, "this is what it's like when you're over 60 - something to look forward to - well, [for] some of you!" (ironic too, given his own gigs are known to stretch to up to 3 hours!), then the inevitable "Love Will Tear Us Apart" turned into a communal singalong, the band paring the music back for the audience, before bringing it thunderously back to fittingly cap the Set Of The Weekend in some considerable style. 

I didn't plan on going in for the list, but took a glance down the front and ended up getting one anyway! That was that for me, although the crew went back in for the plodding morass of laddish baggy dance that was THE HAPPY MONDAYS. Headlining the whole Festival, reports suggested vocalist Shaun Ryder was off his box on something (pick your own substance!), not recognising when the set was finished! Oh dear…

Rach and Rich decided to stay out for some late-night drinking at Jaks, but Matt (who was pooped, plus had a work meeting the next day!) and I (who was just pooped!) headed off back to the chalet for a reasonable night’s sleep, bumping into Ian Prowse along the way for a nice chat (during which he replied to my not having that familiar with Pele back in the day with the immortal phrase of, “that, sir, makes you a cunt!”). One last Big Man brekky the next morning, before we all bade our farewells and headed off, elated but all a little broken. I don’t recall it being so hard on my body last year – and I was so glad I wasn’t partaking in the weekend’s copious drinkies! Still, another great weekend in brilliant company – the bill may not have been a patch on the previous year’s, but there were a couple of great performances from Hooky and his crew, and Milo and his, plus some other highlights (Icicle Works, BMX Bandits) and some nice surprises (notably Mr. Prowse). Who’s to say we won’t be back next year for three in a row?