1,284 THE MENZINGERS, Hot Mass, Bristol Thekla, Tuesday 20th June 2023

 

Yup, that’s The Menzingers on “The Dirty Boat” in the middle of a heatwave; this one could get seriously sweaty…

 Scranton, PA’s finest purveyors of heartfelt heartland US emo-tinged blue collar alternative rock are gaining an increasing profile of late on both my gig “Dance Card” and listening habits, almost – almost! – coming close to supplanting the likes of The Hold Steady and even Jimmy Eat World in my affections in that regard. A devastating punk rock performance last time out at the cavernous Roundhouse (October 2022, gig 1,247) in front of their biggest ever crowd (2,601 on the night, apparently!) blasted them into my favourite gig list last year, and ensured I’d be up for more. However, I wasn’t expecting this one, a hastily-arranged gig at the relatively minuscule Thekla (400 at a squeeze!) to coincide with a couple of UK Festival performances. I jumped on this the second the tix went on sale; good thing too, as an hour later they were gone!

 So, anticipating a hot and busy one, I donned shorts and lenses and hit the road early doors, picking up Pete “Monkey” on the way. He wasn’t joining me at the Thekla, however, having an appointment with hardcore band Zeke at the Exchange, so I dropped him off on the way and parked up, running into old Level 3 face Mark Carter and his lady friend in the queue! Grabbed a stage front spot, house left, on entry and chatted to Tim, a fellow blogger and photographer for the night. Openers, Swansea’s Hot Mass, were on prompt at 7.30; they sported a guitarist who was the spitting image of my mate Rich May, and kicked up an urgent, dynamic and shouty form of post-emo punk rock, with slight inflections of old school 70’s punk (a Ruts descending bassline here, a Ramones surf power chord riff there). A little unfocussed and one-dimensional for my tastes, with not much in the way of tuneage to hang a hat on, but I admired the energy and conviction.

 

The place got seriously busy thereafter and I was already working up a sweat just standing there! Prompt at 8.30, Dire Straits’ cheese-fest “Walk Of Life” chugged out of the speakers and The Menzingers took the stage, plugging in ready to launch… then vocalist/ guitarist Tom May managed to break a string on the first note! Much hilarity and comments about “ghost ships” haunting the band ensued, before their hasty re-do launched them into an incendiary version of “I Don’t Wanna Be An Asshole Anymore”, the crowd already responding in kind to the band’s obvious enthusiasm and sheer joy of playing. The clarion call to arms of “Burn After Reading” followed in short order, the place went nuts, and it was already evident that this would be one of those very special all-inclusive nights, where band and audience come together so closely you can’t see the join, and revel in the pure energy and redemptive power of unadulterated rock and roll.

 So it proved. “Bristol! It’s been awhile since we’ve played on a boat… and the first time in the hold!” announced the livewire Tom to the baying masses, before the coming of age paean “Telling Lies” switched pace from raucous joy to introspective melancholy. “Midwestern States”, one of my favourites, was sweeping and anthemic, the subsequent “The Obituaries” was a raw, ragged rabble-rousing singalong to the punkish “I will fuck this up” hook to complete a brilliant mid-set double whammy, and a later “Lookers” was yearning and dynamic in equal measure (“a goddamn blast!” according to Tom. But really, every number was a stone cold moshpit catnip gem tonight, delivered with carefree and gleeful abandon by a band loving it in such close quarters and giving it their all. So much so, in fact, that not only was I on my way to an utter drenching from my own sweat, but the stage was likewise in danger of flooding, the roadies working furiously between songs to mop up the perspiration to avoid any slippages.

 

The breathless “After The Party” concluded an utterly incendiary set, the band returning after a thorough stage mopping for oldie “Casey” and a hurtling newie “Irish” to finish, vocalist/ guitarist Greg Barnett thrusting his pick into my hand as he left the stage. And that wasn’t it; I seriously needed to catch my breath and also wait until Pete’s gig was done, so I hung out awhile, patience ultimately being rewarded with chats, pics and setlist signatures from the band. Tom in particular was a diamond; not only as buoyant and effusive in person as onstage, but he also ultimately boarded their coach to get Greg’s signature for my list, waking the man up in the process! Chap! Eventually tore myself away, collected The Monkey and drove home for midnight and a vigorous towelling down before bed. I was right, this was seriously sweaty, and also seriously superb. The distilled essence of a proper rock’n’roll gig, delivered in fantastic style by The Menzingers!

1,247 THE MENZINGERS, Joyce Manor, Sincere Engineer, London Camden Roundhouse, Saturday 8th October 2022

 

October’s Dance Card is coming thick and fast; after the previous night out with daughter Jami seeing Beabadoobee in Bristol, here’s a trip up the Smoke for a boy’s punk rock day and evening out! The punk rock in question here being of the new millennial rather than the original 70’s variety, however, with an intriguing triple bill topped by Scranton, PA’s The Menzingers. A band who I was ironically late to the party with, fully jumping onboard with 2017’s “After The Party” which saw an evolution from their punkier roots and into a more expansive heartland blue collar rock recalling favourites Jimmy Eat World, The Gaslight Anthem and The Hold Steady. I’d loved this and their subsequent 2019 effort “Hello Exile”, a couple of splendid Bristol SWX shows (gigs 1,069 and 1,174) also putting them firmly on my gig radar. Unfortunately, the closest their first post-Covid UK tour took them to the ‘don was North London’s Roundhouse (Menzingers vocalist Greg Barnett taking some stick from me for not playing Bristol on this tour, at his Exchange solo gig earlier this year (gig 1,231)!), but hey, it’s on a Saturday, so… boy’s afternoon out in Camden, right?

 So Logan and I hit the road at lunchtime, parking up at our booked Kentish Town bolt-hole just after 3, following a difficult last half of the journey, no doubt influenced by the train strikes, and necessitating a loo stop at the busiest McDonalds ever on the busiest retail park ever, just off Western Avenue! Much nosing around Camden Market and some fine Chinese street nosh later, we hit the Roundhouse’s side bar just after 6, only to have our tix scanned and bags checked in advance of the 7 pm doors. So we’re in… sorta… eventually joined the snaking queue on the stairs at 7 and grabbed barrier spots, house right, chatting to our neighbours before openers, Chicago’s Sincere Engineer, on at 7.30. Their brand of urgent and insistent power chord driven poppy punk, overlaid by angst-ridden drainpipe throated vocals from vocalist Deanna Belos, was derivative but fun, and I particularly liked the early “Nowhere Fast” and a later song, allegedly about depression but lyrically centring around corndogs! Deanna tried to banish her obvious nerves by asking the early audience if they had any questions, some wag down the front (ok, me…) asking, “Cubs or White Sox?”, the vocalist immediately firing back, “Cubs!” The Superchunk-like penultimate number about Lake Michigan, featuring an accelerated ending, was my overall highlight of a pretty decent set.

 We kept our barrier place but spotted our friend and “live” favourite Ben Sydes and his lovely lady Evey, so I popped over for a chat; they declined to join us down the front, Evey citing inappropriate footwear (!), and, partway through main support Joyce Manor’s set I figured, they may have made the right choice… JM’s heavily bass-driven verses and shouty superfast emo choruses initiated a serious mosh behind us, with a high number of crowdsurfers flooding over our heads! Their generic emo/ pop punk numbers also often seemed to end before they were ready, a breakneck “Heart Tattoo” (their 7^th or 8^th number?) being the first one to sound fully formed! A slower outlier, the Jimmy Eat World-like “Falling In Love Again” was an early highlight; the superfast “Victoria” nicked its’ circular guitar riff from Green Day’s “Basketcase”; and set closer “Leather Jacket” was a chunky and hooky swayalong. That aside, this superfast 20+ song (!) 40 minute set (a Ramones/ Dickies-like pace!) suffered for me from a lack of variation, so felt like a relentless bombardment at times…

 Everyone took a collective breath then, and I figured, it’s not going to be that mad for The Menzingers, right? They’re not that stridently “punk” any more, right? Right? Wrong, as it happened… the lights darkened at 9.40 as The Ramones’ “Do You Wanna Dance” roared over the P.A., The Menzingers’ entrance music ultimately serving as an appropriate agenda setter for their performance. From the start, they were fully up for delivering a fast and frantic, powerful and potent, raw and ragged, fully “on it” punk rock set, opener “Good Things” kicking off an even bigger mosh and re-initiating the deluge of crowdsurfers, encouraged in no small part by co-vocalist Tom May, a red-faced whirligig of perpetual motion throughout, Zebedee without the big fuck-off spring… After an early, anthemic “America (You’re Freaking Me Out)” May exclaimed, “London, Holy Shit! It’s not often we get to play at such a legendary venue!” his cohort in crime Greg Barnett countering with, “we played [a venue in] Philadelphia to 2,600… I’ve heard that thanks to some finagling of the numbers, there’s 2,601 in [The Roundhouse] tonight!”

 

So, it seemed that tonight was officially The Menzingers’ biggest ever headlining gig; that being so, they played up to the occasion quite brilliantly. “Telling Lies” was a pointed metaphor for trying to come of age in this fucked up moment in time, “House On Fire” practically raised the roof with its massive repetitive hook, and “Your Wild Years” was a personal favourite; I think there was a little Baah-ston in everyone’s attitude tonight…! Oldie “The Obituaries” saw Greg and Tom lead the “I will fuck this up” hook singalong, before a frankly awesome, yearning “Anna” which was a breathless yet heartfelt set highlight. Wow. An unplanned “Casey” and “In Remission” rounded off the set, an incredulous Tom fulsomely praising the enthusiastic crowd. But that wasn’t it… first encore “Lookers” nearly topped “Anna” for me, Greg holding his mic aloft and conducting the crowd in the hushed opening lyric singalong, before Joe Godino’s pounding drumbeat launched the song into hurtling, relentless life. “After The Party”, their manifesto number, rounded off a superb performance, easily the best I’ve seen this increasingly special rabble.

 And I learned a bit about my 15 year old son as well; despite the relentless pounding and shoving from the moshpit behind us, he stayed strong and lasted the course, singing along and giving as good as he got, particularly in fending off one particular dickhead who tried to relieve us of our barrier spot, late on. A just reward was Tom’s setlist, which we gratefully accepted before saying farewell to Ben and Evey and ambling slowly back to the car, a Joyce Manor-esque breakneck drive down the inky black M4 seeing us home just after 1.15 a.m. Battered and limb-weary the next day (me, not Logan!), although that may also have been due to my Covid booster I’d gotten before hitting the road to London. Nonetheless, this was just a superb showing from The Menzingers, capping off another great boy’s punk rock outing!

1,231 GREGOR BARNETT, Lande Hekt, Perkie, Bristol Exchange, Sunday 12th June 2022

 

I’ve become quite the fan of The Menzingers over their last few albums, after they filled a Gaslight Anthem-shaped hole in my affections with their similar Springsteen-influenced stories of coming of age in small town America, set to expansive, driving and often deliciously hooky emo/pop-punk tinged US alt rock. Tonight promised something slightly different, however, as co-vocalist Gregor Barnett has only gone and made a “Country” album! Now, normally this would see me scuttling for the hills, particularly after being burned by recent poor offerings (and even worse gigs! Yup, that carcrash gig 1,074) from the afore-mentioned Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon… however Greg’s release, the somewhat ghoulishly titled “Don’t Go Throwing Roses In My Grave”, is definitely more dusty, parched and deliciously bleak alt- as opposed to mawkish Grand Old Opry trad-Country, with some wry, understated tuneage not a million miles from his usual work. Si and Matt were up for the gig as well, so I figured, why not?

 I nearly didn’t bother though; after last night’s late one, I found myself dozing off on the sofa barely half an hour before departure tonight, and giving thought to blowing it off and watching what was shaping up to be an exciting IndyCar race on TV. Rock’n’roll won out though, as ever, and Si and Matt, plus Si’s new lady Kathryn collected me just before 7. Met up with Si’s mates Phil and Ben at the venue, and had some good rock chat before venturing in for opener Perkie, who seemed to be externalising her internal monologue as to what key to play her hushed bedsit ballads in, rather than actually playing them. A couple of stop-starts might be charming, but multiple times before – and during – numbers is simply amateurish, so I got annoyed and went outside. Tour support Lande Hekt was better; frontperson of punky pop act The Muncie Girls, her gauche, often C86-tinged indie acoustica veered between endearingly wistful songs about damaged relationships (e.g. “Impending Dooming” and her best number, closer “8 Days Of Rain”) and quirkier subject matter (the bouncy “Gay Space Cadets” and a song about Jeremy Clarkson!), and the only issues she seemed to have in her performance was an “evil” ring picked up at a car boot sale! I quite enjoyed her set, but after Perkie, I was just kindly disposed to anyone who could finish a song coherently…

 Greg joined us just before 10; armed initally with a chunky acoustic but switching to a full-on electric for later numbers, the black clad desperado opened with the funereal death march of “Oh Lord, What Do You Know”, with imagery evoking the minutae of dusty truckstop America, stray dogs and pennies on railroad tracks and the like, and Greg giving them suitable atmospheric gravitas with his quavery, yearning vocal delivery. After the Decemberists-like harmonica blare of the album’s title track, Greg greeted the keen Bristol Sunday crowd with, “something uniquely English about the sound of a sticky club floor!” before realising The Menzingers’ Autumn tour doesn’t include Bristol, some wag down the front (OK, me…!) countering with, “you’re making us go to London!” By way of compensation, however, we then had a rousing singalong to a splendidly galloping “Anna”, one of my favourite Menzingers’ tracks. OK then!

 

The set concentrated on the solo album material, which in this “live” voice/guitar only environment largely took on a stripped-back, haunting Violent Femmes-esque dark Appalachian backwoods murder ballad quality, with titles to match; in fact when Greg told his parents he’d written a song called “Hurry Me Down To Hades”, they both wondered where they’d gone wrong with him! There were spots of light amongst the gloom, however, with “Driving Through The Night” the most Menzinger-esque of his new numbers, and “Talking To Your Tombstone” a racey upbeat swayalong at odds with its’ subject matter. Plus there were Menzingers numbers to delight the faithful; deep cut “My Friend Chris” was preceded by a story of their first, disastrous Bristol gig back in 2010, and a fine “Midwestern States” elicited another singalong. After scheduled set closer, “Guest In Your House”, Greg called for a couple of requests to fill up to the hour, the crowd voting for “Your Wild Years” (which saw me attempting to sing the hook in the correct accent; “a little Baah-ston in your attitude (!)”) and tonight’s highlight, the splendid finale of “Casey”.

 

I’d nudged forward for this one, so asked Greg for his list which he duly obliged; then a few minutes later I popped back for a brief chat and pic with a softly spoken but absolute gentleman, before we hit the road. So my 3 in 3 now in the books (now I can sleep!), and appetite duly whetted for a full-on Menzingers show at the Roundhouse in November, after a fine acoustic showing tonight from a very talented gent!

1,173 SI AND MATT HALL, New Bedlam Asylum; 1,174 THE MENZINGERS, SPANISH LOVE SONGS, Swindon The Tuppenny; Bristol SWX, Thursday 6th and Friday 7th February 2020,

A couple of “grown-up punk rock” gigs on consecutive nights which might initially have been 3; then nearly became just the one…!

So, Thursday first; following the recent untimely demise of Swindon’s finest, grizzled blue-collar alt-rock combo Raze*Rebuild, this pre-arranged booking for an acoustic Thursday show at the Tuppenny pub up the Old Town became vacant, only to be happily backfilled by… R*R mainstays Si and Matt Hall! So I made plans to go, safe (but disappointed) in the knowledge that my knees will no longer take a battering at the hands of their banded-up rampant alt-rock. However, in a typical “wait for one bus then two come at once” moment, fellow local US indie rock acolytes Abstraction Engine, a band I’ve yet to catch but had been meaning to for ages, booked a support slot at The Vic, same night! Neither the Hall boys nor AE’s exemplary frontman David knew in advance as to their set timings, so I drove up early doors in the vain hope that they wouldn’t clash.

 
Parked up in the final spot in the car park opposite the Vic, then took a wander in to find AE soundchecking in the back room. Decided not to disturb their work because, well, I’m not a selfish twat and it’s not all about me, so I took a wander to the Tupp, where Si and Matt were setting up (Matt with his new guitar which he’d made on a 6 day course!) but were happy to be disturbed and to confirm their headlining set would kick off at 9.30. Thus armed, I chatted awhile with the boys before heading back down to the Vic, where David and the AE boys were hanging out outside. “Tell me you’re on in ten minutes,” I hopefully inquired, only for David to sadly reply, “nope, we’re on at 9.30!” Bollocks! So, I stuck with the original plan, extended my apologies to a magnanimous band, then ‘twas back to The Tupp to meet up with Stu and find a couple of seats for opener New Bedlam Asylum. This proved to be a pseudonym for Charlie Miles, a young green-haired punk who immediately impressed and entertained with some full-on in-your-face acoustic punk rock ranting, the man sawing furiously at his gaffer-taped up instrument and gabbling 90 to the dozen, all angry, bilious, bucolic and full of angst and self-loathing, but also erudite and actually bloody funny. “Depression Goatee” was not only a suitably angst-ridden opener but a theme he’d continuously return to, in between other numbers encompassing pro-wrestling, veganism, some seriously left-leaning politics (a brilliantly scabrous “Shy Tory” being my favourite number of his set) and a Neutral Milk hotel homage (!). Superb dumb thrashy acoustic punk rock fun on one level, but given the breadth of his referencing (including Jeff Buckley, The Supremes and a host of artists I’d never heard of!), one suspects there’s a very cultured and intelligent mind beneath the punk rock self-loathing exterior. Either way, an impressive performer whom I’d like to catch again, and not only because he referred to me as, “guy who likes Neutral Milk Hotel”!

And now for something completely different…! Si and Matt were always going to sound low-key, at least initially, in comparison to young Charlie, both being beyond their angry shouty punk rock years…! Si sensibly gave props to the crowd (“this is unexpected - a roomful of people… for now…!”) and the opener (“I can’t do miserable tonight because Charlie just blew it out of the water! Charlie, this one’s for you, it’s called “Face For Radio”,” an unexpected faux pas which drew howls of laughter) as they eased into their stride. A melancholy alt-country “My Remedy” was an early highlight before “All The Gear”, a full-on knee-killer in band form, finally saw Si cut loose with the vein-bulging stentorian roar. A couple of Buzztone numbers embellished the set, albeit allegedly slowed down considerably from their 200 mph skate-punk versions (!), Si joking about putting these oldies up on Myspace back in the day (“Myspace? We’ve got a page on Ceefax!”), then “Kat I’m Sorry” saw a particularly impassioned vocal from Si and some excellent fretwork from Matt (Si repeatedly commenting on Matt’s self-made new guitar throughout). A fun cover of “Dancing In The Dark” skewered the obvious Springsteen comparisons in their music, before closer “Back To The Fall” was dedicated to me (!) for sticking around and not going to the Vic instead! A night of contrasting sets then, both notable and entertaining in their own right.

I bade farewell to all and sundry, promising to meet up with Si at the Menzingers’ gig in Bristol the following night; then things all started to go the way of the pear… Home at 11.30 to find an upset Rach up with Logan, the pain he’d been having in his legs for a couple of days having intensified. Rach took him up to A&E, leaving me to toss and turn all night, do Kasey’s school run the next morning then join her up in an A&E cubicle. After tests and admission, it was subsequently found to be a temporary viral infection, thankfully, but as I left at 4 to take Kasey for her swim lesson, they were still on the ward awaiting blood test results, so it looked as if I’d be needed to collect them and the intended trip down to Brizzle would be off…

Happily, the final test results came back OK and they taxi-ed home, and after checking things were OK, Logan was more comfortable and Rach could definitely cope without me, the gig was back on…! So, I left just after 6.30, hammering down the M4 then being held up by an utter dickhead BMW driver on the run into Bristol city centre, but still parking up, hitting the venue and squeezing down the front in time (just!) for Spanish Love Songs’ main support set at 7.20. An added attraction on tonight’s bill, they’d impressed last time out with a noisy, sweaty and all-hands-together Exchange set, and the crunchingly heavy riffery of opener “Losers” suggested more of the same tonight. Monolith vocalist Dylan Slocomb came up for air after a couple of bulldozing numbers, proclaiming, “Holy shit! Last time out we played the Exchange but I was super sick – this is more fun!”, before a speedier, strident and robust singalong “Sequels”.

The humble and self-effacing attitude of Dylan and the band – a feature last time out – was again to the fore, Dylan commenting, “I never thought we’d be releasing album No. 3 [today] and playing a room this size!” before completely filling it with their own brand of massive riffery, heavy and strong-armed drumbeats, and huge anthemic singalong choruses. Much of the set recalled the similarly bone-crushing relentlessness of Manchester Orchestra, although the likes of “The Boy Considers His Haircut” and a superb “Buffalo Buffalo” delved more into angsty yet gloriously shouty emo-punk territory. Dylan again announced, “really, this is the coolest thing ever!” before set closer “Beer And Nyquil” again underlined their inclusive vibe, their connection and empathy with their audience, with the hooky choral line of, “I want to hold it together” sung back by the crowd, providing a very fitting and apposite for a killer set. And this was just the support…!

Grabbed a breather and ran into Si (as promised), plus recent Gaz support star Ben Sydes! I knew there was an emo boy in him…! Took a spot house right on the crowded floor, as “A Praise Chorus” played over the tannoy, eliciting a singalong to the “crimson and clover” section… Then, 8.30 saw the lights smash to black and the intro music of “Rebel Rebel” herald The Menzingers onstage. Straight away they were “on it” with enthusiasm and gusto, the fast-paced opener of “Anna” ringing out, albeit sounding smoothier, shinier, and even a tad quieter after the behemoth Spanish Love Songs set…

I’d been late to the Menzingers party, having joined in for the ironically titled “After The Party” a couple of years back, which saw a maturing of their ragged emo punk into a more Gaslight Anthem-lite hooky and polished sound. New album “Hello Exile”, one of 2019’s finest, continues this journey for me, continuing the recent lyrical themes of moving from an extended adolescence into “proper” adulthood, and incorporating elements of Pixies-ish alt-rock, Americana and even a more countrified feel into their sound. Thus, the early likes of “Anna” and a soaring singalong “House On Fire” recalled a faster Gin Blossoms, and saw me plunging into a good-natured mosh – which featured a larger percentage of girls than I was expecting – and singing along with gusto, just the tonic I needed after a fraught day.

The boys were certainly having fun onstage, swapping vocal chores between bald, perpetually grinning Brian Bendis lookalike Tom May and his heftier, strong-armed colleague Greg Barnett, however things got increasingly violent in the mosh so I retreated to a supposedly safe distance, only to be followed by a white t-shirted bloke who, no matter how far back I went, seemed to be right in my face! I soon tired of this and swapped over to house left, the clarion call of “Burn After Writing” thankfully snapping me back into the gig. Greg remarked on an early singalong from a punter with, “I love it when that happens – especially when it sounds like a Disney pirate!” Don’t know what he’s insinuating about the Bristolian accent, but anyway… A mad mosh accompanied a tremendous “Telling Lies”, subsequently and thankfully diffused by a melancholy “Last To Know”, then later a punky double of “I Don’t Wanna Be An Asshole” and “Nice Things” preceded some proper old school punk, Tom channelling his inner Joe Strummer for a fine reading of The Clash’s “Death Or Glory”. My final mosh-visit was for their best number, the irresistibly bouncy set closer “Lookers”, by which time I was also on guard for a horde of crowd-surfers – again of both genders!

“Lookers” was the clear highlight of the night, so I could happily have done without the encore, then afterwards I held out for the drummer’s list, a helpful roadie throwing me the screwed-up ball as a prize. So, another night of equally meritorious yet contrasting sets, the gloss and tunefulness of The Menzingers contrasting with the seething and bludgeoning power of Spanish Love Songs. Heck, I liked ‘em both! A quick drive home and a kebab rounded off a fine evening and this two-in-two. Great stuff from all 4 acts… and, more importantly, a son who’s now fully on the mend after a brief but scary illness. That’ll do for me!

1,069 THE MENZINGERS, Pup, Cayetana, Bristol SWX, Wednesday 31st January 2018

Okay, enough of the acoustic shenanigans which have kicked off my 2018 gig year so far…. It’s time for some big pounding drums and full-on, amped-up, cranked-up, neighbour annoying punk rock electric guitars! So, tonight was perfect for the part – an intriguing 3 band US punk rock package tour fronted by The Menzingers, a Scranton, PA. rabble whom I’d been aware of for some time, but had only checked out seriously last year thanks to a recommendation from Si and Matt Hall, co-conspirators of Swindon’s finest, the Mighty Raze*Rebuild. Their 2016 “After The Party” CD became a firm favourite of mine; shades of Jimmy Eat World and the early 2000’s emo sound, a little Gaslight Anthem subject matter and song structure, and strong repetitive hooks aplenty, wrapped up in a shiny guitar-chiming package.

Si got tickets for this one, and I signed up as designated driver, picking up Si and fellow R*R uber-fan Paul Carter, then Matt, hitting the road for some rock’n’roll reminiscing en route to arrival at 20 to 8. Back at this shiny new, albeit inconveniently shaped venue, an enthusiastic sell-out crowd already being in attendance for openers Cayetana, prompt at 8. The only band on the bill I was unfamiliar with, and Si had suggested a low-fi offering; didn’t get that though, as straight out of the blocks, this all-girl 3-piece screamed pure-bred 90’s post-grunge college pop to me. Nice! Opener “Dirty Laundry” raced along, powered by some chunky guitars and nuanced, occasionally yodelly vocals from vocalist Augusta Koch, occasionally reminding me of Placebo’s Brian Molko, weirdly enough! “Certain For Miles” was a tub-thumping, pulsating VU-like drone-fest, whilst “Mesa” recalled Magnapop and Fuzzy in its’ upbeat hookiness. “You guys, Bristol’s fucking gorgeous,” gushed Augusta before splendid set closer “Hot Dad”, “but I got shin splints from walking up the hills!”. I hope that doesn’t put them off returning, as I’d love to see this lot headline, say, The Thekla…!

The boys grabbed dsrinks and we took a watching brief on the walkway, stage right, for Pup, on at 9 to a rap backing track. Opener “Doubts” set the tone for their set with some big chunky tuneage and angular, off-kilter drum patterns, almost Weezer meets Primus? “Guilt Trip” came across as a punkier Presidents Of The USA, with some odd rhythms and savage primal screaming vocals from diminutive vocalist Stefan Babcock, and a later “Sleep In The Heat” had shades of Titus Andronicus (!) in its’ widescreen savagery. Overall, I liked them fine, although they were a little too all over the place for me, and I found chunks of the mid-late set wearing, sailing uncomfortably close to screamy nu-metal territory for these ears. However penultimate number, “If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You, I Will” was great, easily their highlight tonight, although by this point I was chatting to Allegra and the gregarious Kelly from Cayetana at the merch stand!

Back to our spot for The Menzingers, on at 10 to a rabid welcome from a totally rammed dancefloor, singing and fist-pumping along to every song throughout, pretty much from the opening note of bouncy set opener “Tellin’ Lies”. Swapping vocal chores between dual guitarists, the livewire, balding ball of enthusiasm Tom May and his more monolithic partner-in-crime Greg Barnett, they nonetheless set to their task with equal gusto. A splendid sounding set of their modern-day emo/ US punk fusion sound ensued, all driving drums, power chords and ringing, chiming guitar work, topped with soaring, towering choruses. Not a great deal of light and shade in the set, but the mosh stayed mad for it throughout, prompting Greg to remark, “holy fuck, this is amazing!” and later blatantly lie about being born in Bristol – “I was conceived in the Bierkeller!”, prompting a sardonic response of, “you’re probably not the only one…!” from Tom.

“Charlies Army” was a Gaslight-esque flag waver worthy of a stadium backdrop; rambunctious oldie “Casey” had me scrambling for my phone to record a segment for my like-named daughter; and the boys announced their plans to watch this weekend’s Superbowl, “after midnight in Kelly’s pub in Antwerp!” before “Your Wild Years”. My favourite, the driving yet melancholy “Lookers” closed out the set, by which time I was shaking a leg down the front, in a perfect spot not only to be showered with streamer confetti during their final, Pixies-ish encore number, but also grab an easy set-list! Then t’was the usual slow egress and a quick chat with Cayetana’s vivacious vocalist Augusta at the merch stand, finally home late at 20 to 1 after dropping the boys off. A nice find in Cayetana, some work to do on The Menzingers’ back catalogue, but overall a great big boy’s big punk rock night out, a corking triple bill in fine company, on and off stage!