717 THE BUZZCOCKS, The Buzzcocks(!), Bristol University Anson Rooms, Wednesday 29 November 2006

Well, the Buzzcocks. These old punk rock founders had been on the reunion gig circuit for about 15 years now, and I’d threatened to go on a number of occasions, but it took Rachel’s pregnancy to spur us into action, as gig opportunities may well likely diminish for awhile when baby comes. So let’s get this one out of the way!

So we drove down, hitting Bristol about 8 and parking up easier than expected, nipping upstairs in this suspiciously quiet venue. Got a drink in the bar, which was populated with old punk lags, all mohican-ed up for the occasion. And occasion it was – part of the Buzzcocks 30th Anniversary tour, the gig being accompanied by a slide and video show encapsulating their 30 years punk rock service. Rach and I popped into the main hall, where the PA music was better ("Zerox", "Dot Dash" for starters) and checked out the slideshow, including the photo from which I drew the accompanying pic, back when I was an early teen young punker!

Not so young now, and neither are the Buzzcocks. Supporting themselves, they came on at 9 for the first set, ripping into some unfamiliar and newer sounding stuff which veered from not so bad to not so good. Oddly enough, the better newies (e.g. "Friends", "Isolation") were sung by Steve Diggle, not main vocalist Pete Shelley, and it was Diggle who emerged as the main man. Rabble rousing, arms windmilling, ageless and rock star skinny, unlike Shelley who despite still being the better singer, with his strange, slightly effeminate, precisely enunciated voice, had aged badly, hair thinning and with an expanding chin collection.

40 minutes in and I chanced nipping to the loo, only for the first of their clutch of classic singles, "I Don’t Mind", to be trotted out. D’oh! Nevertheless, we expected more from the second set, which kicked off at 10 after a 10 minute interval. However this was mainly old "B" sides and early album tracks, better but still unfamiliar to my ears. The Buzzcocks for me were primarily a singles band, their snappy pop sensibilities better over 2 minute bursts, with their "Singles Going Steady" collection, obviously, the zenith of their output. So the set took a holding pattern until the end, when punk classics such as "Love You More" and set highlight "What Do I Get?" got an airing.

Unfortunately, they’d left their best numbers to the encores. Unfortunate because by now they were visibly tiring and ragged, with bum notes aplenty. So "Promises", a surprising "Boredom", "Ever Fallen In Love" and a nonetheless fun "Orgasm Addict" were roughly manhandled. Don’t get me wrong, I totally enjoyed hearing all these songs, reminders of my wild youth, but even next to bands of similar vintage, e.g. Killing Joke and Stiff Little Fingers, the Buzzcocks fell some way short.

Still, a good night out, glad I got to see them, but probably won’t bother again. Never mind, the Buzzcocks!

718 IDLEWILD, Fortune Drive, Bristol Fleece, Friday 1 December 2006

Our 10th overall Idlewild gig, and 7th in 22 months, nevertheless came one year after this band of Scottish reprobates formed the impromptu soundtrack to our honeymoon, elevating themselves in the process to the ranks of the truly great bands in our eyes. However, we were surprised that they were tackling such a small venue as the Fleece, and theories abounded. New line-up? New material? Just not that popular anymore? Nah, not the last one; this gig pretty much sold out immediately!

So Rach and I hit the road at 7.15, hitting a soggy Bristol for 8 and finding a rapidly filling venue. Took a spot by the merch stand, halfway back, stage left, for Bristol’s own Fortune Drive at 9. Harder rocking and more in your face than I remembered, the first few numbers impressed, but they then descended into overlong noisy self-indulgence. An impressive vocalist and a couple of good numbers do not a band make, despite the predictably rapturous hometown response.
The PA oddly played Dire Straits’ stadium megabore "Money For Nothing", which saw Idlewild taking the stage. Roddy however was at pains to point out, "this is NOT our entrance music!"

However, they were straight on it – into an opening salvo of "I Am What I Am Not" and "Roseability". And salvo was the right term for it; this was very much like their US sets of a year ago, raw, harder-edged and visceral. Playing to the hard-core fan base packed into the Fleece, they could let their frayed edges show, and it made for a more thrilling, exciting and wholly worthwhile live experience. Roddy was equally relaxed in this situation; occasionally a little reluctant onstage, and painfully shy on the couple of occasions we got to talk to him in California, Idlewild’s vocalist and mainman was tonight effusive, bantering with the audience throughout, recalling previous Fleece gigs ("I forgot about the pillars!") and generally being personable Rod. As if the folky interlude of his solo CD hadn’t mellowed him, but more purged that element of his music – now he and his band wanted to rock!

Thus they did – 4 new numbers only (as advised by drummer Colin, who remembered us from San Fran, during a pre-gig chat) punctuated a rocking set of their anthemic, REM-like thoughtful and crafted recent material, and their breathless, amphetamine-fast oldies. The new bassist fitted seamlessly in as they delivered a brilliant hour-plus set, with a soaring "American English" and a stunning "Modern Way Of Letting Go" my highlights. They’re back in Bristol in March – at the Academy this time. Hopefully, we’ll be there too!

719 MARION, Neil’s Children, Scott, London King’s College Student Union, “Tutu Bar”, Tuesday 12 December 2006

Another reunion gig, and this one, 90’s live favourites Marion, held some gravitas for Rachel. She’d missed them at the Brighton Essential Festival, before we’d met, by tottering off in a drunken state to the wrong tent, and, having not had a chance to see them again, had subsequently vowed never to get drunk at a gig again! So this was a well-timed return, before the arrival of Baby Rose, next year.

I picked Rach up from work, and, avoiding mad lorry drivers, we parked and tubed over, hitting the venue about 8.15. This was a fine little venue; a wide, balconied room with good eyeline and an upstairs bar affording vistas of the Thames, South Bank, Parliament and the London Eye!
We just caught the end of Scott’s set, Scott being a floppy fringed young solo troubadour in a Dashboard style. However, we caught all of Neil’s Children’s set; a black clad lot who’d clearly been raiding their mums' crimpers and hair dye boxes, they played an itchy, insistent set of zeitgeisty new wave, on one occasion threatening to break into Bauhaus’ "Dark Entries"! Shouty, in your face, they were actually quite good – one of this year’s better support slots!

Had a superb balcony view at the top of the stairs, stage right, for Marion at 9.45. This was a welcome return for more than one reason; not only were this lot one of the most consistently exciting, visceral and incendiary live acts of the 90’s, but singer Jamie Harding subsequently had more than a dalliance with heroin, so to see him "clean" and back performing was very gratifying. However, gaunt, black clad and pallid of complexion, he looked like a recovering addict, and his performance initially faltered behind the tight, well-rehearsed band of youngsters he and other original member Phil Cunningham had assembled. Opener "Fallen Through" was messy, and a couple of new numbers followed unobtrusively, before bass drum problems forced a pause in the set.

However, on their return, the always excellent live "Time" transformed things, igniting the crowd and the set. Jamie’s voice thereafter took flight, soaring and commanding as in his pomp, and we had a real Marion show on our hands. Oldies, such as the anthemic "Let’s All Go Together" were lapped up, and new numbers, short and snappy, sounded promising, proving they’re still in thrall to Joy Division and "Heaven Up Here"-era Bunnymen, which ain’t a bad place to be, particularly nowadays.

An all-too-short 40 minute set was followed by a 4 song encore, culminating in a thrilling "Sleep", Jamie on harmonica, drenched in sweat, giving his all and closing the set perfectly. So a vindicating experience overall, worth the rare trek to London on a school night. Marion – they’re back, a great way to end gig year 2006!

720 REDD KROSS, Neon, London Camden Underworld, Monday 22 January 2007

Getting the 2007 gig trail underway with the return of an old favourite; Redd Kross, who’d last darkened these shores back in 1997 in tandem with the Foo Fighters! I was up for this but Rachel wasn’t, so Tim and I hit the road at ½ past 5, parking up just round the corner from the venue at 8.

Not been to the Underworld for awhile, but it hadn’t changed, still the same scuzzy rickety old dump! Got a good eyeline (difficult at this place) at the top of the steps down onto the dance floor, stage left, and pretty much stayed there throughout!

First band Neon were fashionably late. A 3-piece featuring a blonde bass player and a Mike Gent lookalike vocalist, they played some pretty varied and good powerpoppy rock with some strong choruses and hooks. Quite impressive really, shame the vocalist couldn’t quite hit the high notes with his limited range!

Ran into our London friends before nipping back to position for Redd Kross’ arrival at 9.30. Time hadn’t changed the MacDonald brothers much – Jeff, the vocalist, and bassist Steve were still long of hair and chiselled of cheekbone. This original line-up however featured another MacDonald brother on drums, and a total freakazoid, mincing and stick-thin, who insisted on playing lead guitar very high – strapped practically under his chin!

Nevertheless, appearances can be deceptive as the band were in full flow from the off, with my fave "Lady In The Front Row". This slice of powerpop heaven, all majestic melody and harmony, was however the worst opener possible, as nothing came even close to it for the rest of the set! Da Kross delved deep and dragged some old old oldies from their early albums, all embryonic pre-grunge and post-punk noise, before returning to the glorious anthemic pop with the excellent "Jimmy’s Fantasy". When they drew from 1992’s "Phaseshifter" and 1997’s "Show World" CDs they were at their best tonight. These showcased the West Coast Summery powerpop/ powerful post-grunge/ shimmering pseudo-psychedelia mix that is the real Redd Kross sound, and the sublime "Mess Around", the strident, dynamic "Girl God", the sinewy "Small Wonder" and stomping set closer "Crazy World" were all superb. However, as a band is wont to do in front of a devoted audience, they over-indulged themselves too much for my liking, and allowed the aforementioned irritating guitarist far too much rope – did we really need the screeching falsetto cover of "You Spin Me Round"?

However for all its faults, this was a very entertaining slight return from Da Kross, obviously enjoying themselves in front of a full and adulent crowd, a point we all agreed on afterwards before we hit the road, hitting home at 12.30. Just don’t leave it another 10 years before you come back again, boys!

721 GET CAPE WEAR CAPE FLY, Walter Schreifels, The All New Adventures Of Us, Oxford Brookes University, Saturday 27 February 2007

Kind of a new one, this… after a slew of oldies, it was time to check out a new band – the excellently monikered Get Cape Wear Cape Fly (yes, I admit I only checked them out in the first place because of the name!), the pseudonym of one Sam Duckworth, an earnest young singer-songwriter whose naggingly intense set of bedroom studenty angst, "The Chronicles Of A Bohemian Teenager", slipped into my Top 10 CDs of 2006 at the death.

So, Rachel and I headed off to Brookes (never our favourite venue, but hey, it’s Oxford on a Saturday night), finding it easier this time despite city centre roadworks. Got a drunk before first band, The All New Adventures Of Us, joined us at 7.45. With 8 majorly superfluous band members, they were as cumbersome as their name suggests, and after a reasonable, Death Cab meets Del Amitri start, they faded into over-elaborate pastoral nonsense. Yawn.

Got a pleasant surprise in the lobby; found out Walter Schreifels was on the bill! We’d seen Schreifels, former Rival Schools vocalist, wandering around Berlin (where the merch man said he lives these days) in the Autumn, so was intrigued by this set. So we popped in for his 8.30 arrival; "Hi, I’m Walter Schreifels, which in German means ‘screaming rock’," went his intro, and thereafter Schreifels delivered a more straightforward, upbeat and optimistic set than the often dense, dour driving rock of Rival Schools days. No, these were songs about getting your bicycle mended, how to cheer up depressed friends, and other minutae. In fact, the only disappointment was "Used For Glue", possibly my favourite Rival Schools song, but slightly jarring and out of context in this upbeat set. A hastily assembled band of roadies, christened "Blimey And The Guv’nors" by Schreifels, ended the set with highlight "Arthur Lee’s Lullaby". Great stuff.

So, what could Get Cape Wear Cape Fly do to follow that? Well, the set was just as much a triumph, but for different reasons. From the outset of his performance, it was apparent that this young man was preaching to the devoutly converted. The raw, passionate delivery, over stripped back acoustics, of his CD had led me to dub him the British Dashboard Confessional, an opinion reinforced tonight as his crowd sang along to pretty much all his songs! Young Duckworth proved to be a young man with a lot to say, both in his songs and between them. We were treated (!) to oratories about Fair Trade, racism and the Irish conflict, which drew comparisons with Bono’s similar tub-thumping, yet also an appreciation of where he’d come from and the issues facing his generation, which underlined the real sense of connection and community between himself and his largely student audience.

Any overt preachiness was however redeemed by the music – tougher "live", this was an excellent, uplifting set, my highlight being final encore "War Of The Worlds", in which young Sam conducted the mass singalong from the stage, before we hit the road whilst he basked in a deserved ovation. Spokesman for his generation? The kids these days could do a lot worse than Get Cape Wear Cape Fly!

722 BOWLING FOR SOUP, Son Of Dork, Bristol Academy, Tuesday 6 February 2007

From the sublime to the ridiculous… this time it’s a 4-band tour, commissioned and headlined by Texan cartoon punksters Bowling For Soup, whose last set we’d ignored in favour of hob-nobbing with their support, our friends American Hi-Fi. So, no Hi-Fi this time – it’s payback time!
So on a cold evening we set off in our recently misbehaving car, parking up and meeting uber-Soup fan Rich and lady Amanda in the Hatchet Inn. Got grub while the Big Man sorted tix for himself and Amanda thanks to his connections! Chatted until 8.30 which meant missing the horrible queue, but also the first 2 bands on this "Get Happy" tour, Army Of Freshmen and Wheatus. No great loss really!

The place however was utterly heaving for this sell-out show, and with the Soup’s predominantly teen audience, decibel levels were approaching hockey international status, the high-pitched squeals sending neighbourhood dogs running for shelter! Got a spot on the bar stage left while support Son Of Dork were playing the type of identikit shiny Emo/ Orange County "punk" that All American Rejects do far better. One of them was apparently in boy band Busted – possibly the dorky Ben Kweller lookalike singer!

Rich headed for the mosh for the Soup, while we took advantage of a kindly steward lady who (thanks to Rach’s pregnancy!) let us stand on the steps, stage left, with an unimpeded aerial view. Result!

BFS kept us waiting but eventually appeared to the "Rocky" theme tune and a rapturous reception, all wearing quickly divested black tracksuits and performing an elaborate warm-up! Pure showbiz hokum, but what do you expect from this lot of raffish entertainers? Kicking off with "Almost", this was a "best of" run-through of their eminently catchy, hooky and melodic poppy punk rock, and also an object lesson in how to entertain. The in-between song banter was as scatological as ever, varying from big Chris talking about having 3 fingers up Jaret’s ass (!) to Jaret wanting to recruit backing singers with the reward of showering with the band! During-song breaks were also aplenty, for reasons varying from the boys telling the audience how pretty we all were, to a planned (and sound-tracked) mid-song drink break! Add in the usual pick-juggling and chanting, and the Soup had this young audience eating out of their hands.

Us oldies too! "1985" and "Girl All The Bad Guys Want" were our highlights – that is, until the encore, when an incredible "Into Your Arms" (yup, the Lemonheads song!) topped the lot, despite the crowd totally ignoring it! We didn’t, a point duly made to drummer Gary, who acknowledged us from onstage with a rock hand.

Quick out and home too afterwards; back at 12 after a totally entertaining set from Bowling For Soup!

723 THE AUTOMATIC, The View, The Horrors, Mumm-Ra, NME Awards Tour, Reading Hexagon, Monday 12 February 2007

After a very long absence, it’s a welcome return of the former NME "Brats Bus" tour, so much enjoyed in the mid-90s. This time a swathe of currently championed bands, including The Automatic, whom I’d come across only recently thanks to their punk rock terrace chant "Monster". I’d bought their CD in town while Evan was visiting for New Year, only for him to pipe up, "is that the song that goes, "what’s that coming over the hill"?" Nine years old, and he already out-cools me...

Anyway, Rachel and I hit the road at 6.15, parking in the cavernous car park next to the Hexagon, and taking our balcony seats midway through Mumm-Ra’s set. They had a reasonably nice line in poppy push’n’shove stuff, kind of Libertines meets Boo Radleys, although the singer had an unhealthy fixation with a wooden duck, which he spun repeatedly on a stick and attempted to catch, finally succeeding midway through the final number.

The Horrors, next up, came on under cover of darkness and a swathe of strobes, and played the kind of dark synth-driven uber-Goth noise that should really have gone out of fashion with Alien Sex Fiend. The spindly singer’s menacing howl was rather offset by the fact he had balloons tied to him. Black balloons, nevertheless, but still balloons, f’rchrissakes, which lent their hard-on-the-ears set a faintly comic, "Munsters"-like air.

Took a walk before Dundee teens The View, on at 9. They’ve been hyped beyond recognition, and have already pissed Rach off by inventing their own chant, "The View, The View, The View are on fire". Hopes weren’t high but thankfully there was only a smattering of chanting from the young, squeaky sell-out crowd. To be fair, The View exceeded my admittedly low expectations, playing some spritely young pop which was better faster. I counted 3 good numbers amongst a lot of alright ones; the unnamed "Blue Boy"-like 3rd number which turned out the best of the lot; then "The Boy Can Play" and closer "Superstar Tradesman". Preceding this, however, was their number 1 single, "Same Jeans", a shameless rip-off of "Brimful Of Asha". The View? The jury’s out…

Got a drink before The Automatic, due at 10. We’d mused that, given the View’s current ascendancy, they might have switched the running order and let them headline. That notion was well and truly blasted into oblivion after the first Automatic number…

Simply, the Automatic were awesome "live", a word I try not to use too lightly these days. However they were a rampaging behemoth, delivering a staggering set which was the aural equivalent of going 10 rounds with Ricky Hatton. Bristling with power, purpose and menace, they knocked the already-strident recorded versions of their material into a cocked hat. Musically, they inhabit a vaguely 80’s headspace, between the moody rock of Interpol etc. and the almost funky bass-heavy theatrics of the Killers. Live, however, they’re a stunning, pounding beast. Half their set raced by before the kinetic, cowbell playing keyboardist/ vocal back-up man announced a new song – "is it a ballad?" I remarked ironically. No chance of that!
"Monster" was admirably delivered without fanfare, midway through the set. It was the killer, the definitive moment, full of seething menace, with the Seafood-like call and response middle 8 halting abruptly for the a cappella delivery of the hook. Brilliant.

A cover of Talking Heads’ "Life During Wartime" followed, powered up and made their own, as if the chorus was their own musical manifesto; "This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around." Too right!

An all-too-short 50 minutes whipped by. By no means subtle, Rach and I agreed hat the Automatic were nevertheless great tonight. If the View are on fire, The Automatic are a full-on 4-tender towering inferno!