1,158 JIMMY EAT WORLD, PRYZM, Kingston-Upon-Thames, Saturday 19th October 2019

I never thought I’d see this lot in a place like this…! Arizona’s finest, enduring Indie-Emo giants and “live” favourites of ours, Jimmy Eat World, announced a 10^th (!) album, “Surviving” along with a couple of very unusual “live” dates, one of which was at this venue, Kingston’s PRYZM. Ever heard of it? Yeah, me neither… Pre-ticket sale investigation indicated this would likely be a low-key CD release show in a small venue, so I jumped on tix for myself, Rach and Logan when they went on sale, finding them very competitively priced at £18 – even for what seemed like an early hour’s set from Jimmy – and also including a copy of the new CD! No surprise then that they sold out in double-quick time, but not before we were sorted, with 3 tickets then, later, 3 CDs dropping through the Rose letterbox!

This one also meant a chance to catch up with our friend and Kingston resident Lisa, so plans were made and we set off at 3 after leaving Kasey for a sleepover at Laura’s. Parked up after a couple of confusing laps around the inner ring road and bumped into Lisa on our way to the wrong Pizza Express – good job, that! Had a lovely catch-up over tea, then we wandered around to the venue, bidding our farewells to Lisa before popping in. Had to join a large queue snaking around the downstairs lounge before heading up to the venue, a 500-capacity 3-tiered disco nightclub which resembled a smaller SWX, or a slightly bigger Level 3! There was already a rammed crowd around the tiny stage, so “down the front” was out of the question tonight; instead Logan’s idea was to take this one in from the top balcony, and we got excellent viewing spots right next to the mixing desk. Good shout!

The time ticked on and the floor (from our view) got even more uncomfortably rammed, and I was rather hoping the boys would throw us a bone by starting early. No such luck, though, as Jim Adkins waited until just after 8 to lead his uniform-black clad bandmates onstage where, particularly with the addition of a 5^th “live” member on keyboard duties, they immediately looked very cramped! No matter, straight into the tumbling drums and slashing riffery of “Surviving”, the title track from said new album, which on first couple of listens seems more dynamic and less slow-burn than recent releases; a very welcome thing! More welcome was the opening riff to “Bleed American”, next up, the boys belying the slightly murky sound and a similarly muted response from the cramped faithful with an utterly incendiary rendition.

“We’ve just put a new record out! Some of you may know this…” deadpanned Jim ironically before the Hold Steady-esque herky-jerky opening riff to new single “All The Way (Stay)” kicked in, the mood-heavy slower burn of “555” following in short order. But then the highlight of the night for me, as Jim declared, “we’ve been a band for 25 years! Crazy! Here’s an oldie – Tom’s going to tell you about it…” then guitarist Tom Linton introduced a tremendously pulsating and seething run-though of “Blister”, Linton himself taking vocal chores and leading the finally-engaged crowd in a mass singalong. How long would it take to walk across the United States, indeed…?

For all that this was a swift hour set and also ostensibly a “Surviving” CD release show, we still got 6 cuts from that classic 2001 “Bleed American” album, so “Hear You Me” was a poignant and plaintive delight, Jim asking the crowd to, “be part of the show, hold your phones up!” the venue then being bathed in light. The brilliant “A Praise Chorus” followed, Jim demanding the crowd rock out to this undulating thrill-ride of a song, before the final double whammy of “Sweetness” and “The Middle” took us slightly past the 9pm curfew to close out a superb vignette from a band who surely have transcended this size of stage and venue, Jim high-fiving the crowd on his way offstage.

Oh yeah, Logan loved it too, despite the omission of his favourite number “Pain”; as he rocked out to “The Middle”, noisily screaming all the words, I couldn’t help but turn to Rach and say, “this, right here, this is why we had kids!!” A similarly confusing exit from Kingston still got us home before 11 after an unusual but nonetheless excellent Jimmy Eat World gig. Here’s hoping for a bigger tour in 2020, though!

1,157 THYLA, Ocean Ruins, Aphra Taylor, Oxford Jericho Tavern, Wednesday 16th October 2019

It does warm the cockles of this cynical old muso’s heart, I have to say, when a band takes the step up from intriguing support to fully fledged headliners in their own right. I’d caught Brighton’s young 4-piece Thyla a couple of times before; firstly when their personality (particularly that of vivacious vocalist Millie) shone through a murky mix as support to the late, lamented Inheaven (gig 1,070), then a more coherent and very promising set with Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever last October (gig 1,107), so they were about primed to jump on my Dance Card in their own right. Their sonic template falls into various rooms in my wheelhouse; dreamy ethereal shoegaze, more early Ride-ish wall-of-sound, some Pixies proto-grunge stomp, all overlaid with hooky memorable harmony-driven choruses. Another band to join the likes of Desperate Journalist, Basement Revolver et al in taking that post-punk guitar-led sound and putting their own spin on it, could they cut it as headliners in their own right?

I grabbed a ticket for this Autumn tour quite early, revelling in the opportunity for a rare return to one of my 80’s/ 90’s fave haunts, the Jericho Tavern. After a false start to drop Logan’s Diabetes scanner off at his evening club, I however remembered that Oxford Jericho Tavern has one big drawback, being that it’s in Oxford! Stuck behind a lorry for most of my journey there, I then found “Road Closed” signs into Walton Street, picking through tiny side-streets to the venue. Then, the usual parking-mare ensued, and I exasperatedly dumped the motor down a not-so-nearby side-street, thereby missing all but the last half number of hushed folky opener Aphra Taylor, who finished earlier than her scheduled 8.30. Bah! However, next up were locals Ocean Ruins, in front of a score of early punters. Openers at that Inheaven Reading gig, they’ve come a long way since that passable but hesitant performance; a lazy droney opener with hints of Galaxie 500 gave way to some more upbeat and spooky, moody material, with some angular backbeat drums from an impressive sticksman (a new guy, apparently) and some driving choruses. The female vocalist this time sounded more confident, her slightly nasally warbling voice more to the fore, and I enjoyed the likes of “Broken Toys” with its’ quiet/loud grungy vibe and big chorus, and the driving rockers of set closers “Tokyo To Mexico” and “Love Drunk”. Overall, a quantum improvement since my previous viewing, and now a band I’d certainly check out again, a point I made to them afterwards.

Chatted with Thyla’s bassist, who remembered our Pixies-centred chat after the RBCF gig, before he set up with his bandmates. Shortly after 9.30, Thyla took the stage to little fanfare, in front of a bigger and more engaged crowd, opener “Only Ever” bathing us in washes of shimmering guitar sound before dropping into a dreamy mid-paced number with “Dreams Burn Down”-esque haunting guitar licks. “Blame”, next up, was a more driving and dynamic rocker, with a lengthy note impressively held by pocket dynamo vocalist Millie, smiling and buoyant throughout the set. “Candy” featured a strident and bratty choral hook, building to a grungy and noisy crescendo with swathes of Bob Mould/ MBV noise, but new single “Lenox Hill” was for me the set highlight, a well-constructed and streetwise slice of Belly-esque dreampop, and a likely shoe-in for my “Best Of 2019” CD… if I get it downloaded in time! A later “Biting” was a moody Pixies-ish death march, and as the quickfire 45 minute set drew to a close, “Blue” featured a fine growling intro and excellent backbeat drumming. Throughout the set, though, Millie was the main focus; bouncy and enthusiastic, despite her huge boots (!); this girl can not only sing, but has onstage charisma to throw away, and I repeatedly found my thoughts drifting back to another similarly charismatic blonde who I saw perform 4 times on that very stage, namely Fiona of The Parachute Men… My only quibble was that her voice wasn’t as far up in the mix as I’d have liked, leaving us a little bereft during her frequent off-mic excursions. But hey, this was a cracking little gem of a set from a band who’ve come on in leaps and bounds, and firmly grasped the nettle of headliner status. OK, the influences may be easy to spot, but they’re mixing them up and making something of their own. Nice work!

A quick chat and pics with the band afterwards before a much easier egress out of the city. Splendid set from Thyla, though, a young band well and truly – and deservedly so – on the up!

1,156 GAZ BROOKFIELD, B Sydes, Will Davies, Swindon The Victoria, Thursday 10 October 2019

Gaz Top! (the older amongst you might get that reference…!) This was an auspicious occasion, as tonight marked my 23^rd time of seeing Gaz Brookfield “live”, either in his solo acoustic guise, or with his excellent Company Of Thieves band in tow, thereby supplanting my 90’s-00’s “live” faves, the Mighty Seafood, atop my “Most Seen” live act list. Move over Messr’s Line, Hendrick and co., there’s a new leader in town! And in town indeed, for Gaz’ Autumn tour promoting new album “Lostfolk” inevitably included a date in Swindon (unfortunately on a school night at the 18+ Vic venue, so Logan couldn’t’ join me; he’ll have to wait for Salisbury next month for his Gaz fix!). Said record is an absolute corker as well; continuing the forward momentum from last album “I Know My Place”, “Lostfolk” is an utterly accomplished (dare I even say, mature…) body of work, featuring musings on the relentless march of time, mental health et al, as well as the usual buddy boy drinking songs, set to some relentless and incendiary powerpoppy punk rock (with a tad, nay, a soupcon of folk thrown in, of course). Easily his best work, I had to hear this “live” with a full band, so I snapped up a ticket for his December SWX full band show, as well as tonight (and Salisbury with Logan)!

But this one first; I headed up the hill for 8ish, running into Dave Franklin and meeting Rich and Ady, whence we 4 put the world of rock’n’roll to rights (of course). Wandered into the backroom venue (following Linda’s lusty bellow heralding the first act!) for opener Will Davies of The Flour Babies. Been meaning to check out his band properly for some time but we just keep missing each other, it seems… anyway, solo Will was a hushed, introspective prospect, with some glacial acoustic Americana which early doors recalled “Fables”-era REM and Sparklehorse’s quieter moments, then later on, the likes of Death Cab For Cutie! Small wonder then that the sole cover was an obscure Modest Mouse number, followed by an original which, according to Will, ripped said number off! Thematically, lots of lovelorn material delivered in an understated, conversational voice which gave the impression he’d been through the wringer a bit and maybe just needed a hug. Anyway, good start and I promise (once again!) to check out Flour Babies properly!

Gaz’ tour support Ben “B-Sydes” was next; Mr. Franklin had introduced us earlier and I’d commented on his “All Roads Lead To Frome” set a couple of years back (gig 1,036), which I found enjoyable if a little low-key. Well, straight from the outset Ben seemed determined to prove me wrong tonight, with a considerably more overt, upbeat and dynamic set. His second number (“about stupid decisions, as my life is held together by [them]”) kicked in with a Bragg-esque “New England” riff, segueing into a plaintive yet strident Dashboard Confessional delivery. “This Used To Be My City”’s understated woah-oh’s were the exception rather than the rule tonight, as this set bristled with upbeat, almost emo-esque numbers, delivered in Ben’s heavily nuanced vocals, which reminded me a bit of Placebo’s Brian Molko (!). At one stage he hopped off the stage and handed me his pick to play the last chord of a song (!!); on another occasion he paused a number midway through to pithily comment to a couple of unwelcome chatty Cathys, “I know the chords, I’m just waiting for people to shut the fuck up!”; and another rousing choral singalong was the feature of set highlight “The Desperate Dance”. Another emo-lite gallop concluded a startling and splendid support set. Well done Ben!

A quick chat with Ben as well as Gaz (manning the merch) as I bought Ben’s CD, then I took my spot down the front, house left for a change, for Gaz. Opening with “Pen To Paper”, his wry musings on writers block (!), he then commented on the “semi-circle of doubt”, the empty space near the front of the stage. Oddly for a Vic Gaz gig, this remained relatively unoccupied throughout, only myself and (later) Ed and Linda daring to get that close. No matter, title track “Lostfolk” was next up, Gaz giving it his usual full-on passionate delivery, all energy and attitude. Happily (for me at least), Gaz found space for ALL the numbers off the new album tonight (despite an earlier comment of “don’t you hate it when you see a band with a new album out and they just play the new stuff?”) as well as a smattering of old faves such as the enthusiastically-received “Tale Of Gunner Haines” and the intense roar of “Black Dog Day”, which had segued directly in from similarly-themed newie “Afterthought”. Before this early double, Gaz had promised to, “get the miserable shit out of the way early so we can concentrate on enjoying ourselves,” and was true to his word; slow-burn newie “Oalaero” had an entertaining intro chat about Gaz’ search for a pedal steel player for the CD version, which then inexplicably diverted into a discourse on the Vic’s blokes’ loo décor (“the then landlord asked us regulars if we had any spare porn! This was pre-internet days – spare porn, what’s that?”), a punky “Uneducated Guess” was breathtaking and brilliant, Gaz’ take on Frank Turner’s similarly themed “1933”, and after the almost melancholy “Just Another Day” finished the set, Gaz commented, “I’m not going offstage [to come back on again for the encore] as it’s just a cupboard – there’s no strippers or cocaine!”. A venomous “I’ve Paid My Money” was an encore highlight, before Gaz took to the dancefloor for final number “Great Minds Drink Alike”, conducting the singalong with Ben Sydes filling in for Jake Martin’s lines. A great way to end another great Gaz set!

It occurred to me that this 23^rd time needed noting, so Gaz happily posed for a pic with me, before I bade farewell and headed off. A new leader, and with 2 more “live” Gaz outings before Christmas, he’ll be out of sight by New Year. And a well-deserved accolade for the Top Man Gaz!

1,155 THE SPIELBERGS, The Belishas, Bristol Louisiana, Thursday 26th September 2019

Third of 3 in 5 days bucked this recent trend of 80’s favourites with a new band – Oslo, Norway’s The Spielbergs. Another that I owe John Robb’s “Louder Than War” publication for, an interesting review earlier this year led to my checking out some of their stuff on YouTube, then picking up their debut “This Is Not The End” CD, which quickly became one of my favourites this year, replete with powerful grungy guitar, occasional urgent frantic pace and some strained, high pitched Mac-from-Superchunk-alike vocals as it is. As if Seafood or …Trail Of Dead had a raucous knock-down, drag-out fight with Manchester Orchestra or first-album Nothing, perhaps, but either way a splendid noisy listen, and a promising prospect “live” in a small venue like Bristol Louisiana!

So, off I did trot, skirting around the building site that Temple Meads seems to interminably pass for, grabbing the last street parking slot outside the Louie and popping in just after 8. Missed openers Lessons, therefore, but I popped up to the sparsely attended upstairs venue, saying “hey” to the ubiquitous Jeff, then checking out next band up, The Belishas, on at 8.30. Their opener (imaginatively title “Opener” on their set-list!) kicked off like Gaslight Anthem doing a cover of Titus Andronicus’ sprawling epic “The Battle Of Hampton Roads”, all layered and seething anthemic guitar, before diverting into a full-on punk rock assault. Vocalist Ewan, sporting a hideous brown suit a clear 3 sizes too big (!), nonetheless had the style and swagger of a young Pete Doherty, hopefully with more substance and without the drug and reliability issues (!). An early “Dorian Gray” (introduced as, “for your favourite narcissist!”) was a fast-paced 90’s indie rock pop blast redolent of Annie Christian (to these ancient ears, at least) with other numbers mining a similar dissonant and menacing seam to the zeitgeisty Fontaines DC and Murder Capital, and a couple of mid-set ones feeling looser-limbed and harmonically Britpoppy. All in all, however, a cracking set, with the bolshy recent single “Chlorine Maureen” (excellent title!) and next single “Foreign Policy” late highlights. Great openers; Ewan had introduced most numbers with, “this is [Song X], please enjoy…” and I did indeed, no messin’!

Some brief compliments with a moist Ewan afterwards (I always appreciate a man who sweats profusely for his art, me) and a break before the main event. The Spielbergs took the stage to a smattering of curious folk at 9.30, easing into the laze-rock Teenage Fanclub-like groove of opener “Five On It”. Initially following the album’s running order, next up was my favourite cut from said record, the irresistibly hooky “Distant Star”, by which time I was shaking a leg down the front and singing the “we could be… PERFECT!” hook back to the impressively maned vocalist Mads. The sound was initially a little thin on guitar, however, but the hooks and the band’s effervescent attitude still carried them through. “We had a day off in Bristol today,” remarked Mads; “great food, went bowling, got fucked up!”

As a thankfully fuller guitar sound kicked in, the jagged guitar lines and backwards drumming of “Bad Friend” recalled Biffy Clyro, no less, with “NFL” proving this band aren’t one trick ponies with some absorbingly morose, slower burn shoegaze, which then built to a faster crescendo. “4AM” was once again hooky heavy powerpop, making this old guy think of Redd Kross or even El Nino, and a swift 45 minutes set was concluded with a frantic, Seafood-like “We Are All Going To Die”, all angular and drum propelled, with a thrillingly noisy and lengthy climax. Fine stuff indeed!

Doorstepped drummer Christian for a set-list afterwards (they didn’t use one – all in their heads!), thence enjoying a nice chat with the man about the road, where to holiday in Norway (the train from Oslo to Bergan was his recommendation) and Norwegian football, Jan Aage Fjortoft inevitably cropping up in the conversation! Grabbed a mad pic with his bandmates, sat outside, on my way out, then a swift drive home for just after 11, after a fine showing from not 1, but 2 promising bands!

1,154 SPEAR OF DESTINY, Feather Trade, Swindon Level 3, Tuesday 24th September 2019

Another trip down Amnesia Avenue tonight, another 10^th gig for a band whom I’d seen multiple times in a condensed period in the 1980s… this time it’s Spear Of Destiny, Kirk Brandon’s polemic rabble of dark, sinister anthemic post-punkers, whom I’d caught 5 times in 4 months (!) starting with their support slot on U2’s coronation “Longest Day” gig in June 1985 (gig 29!), then a further 4 times down the years. A poorer showing on their Singles Tour in 2008 (gig 754) was nonetheless followed by a couple of considerably better and more redeeming support showings with Stiff Little Fingers, so I was considering popping down to Bristol to catch their “One Eyed Jacks” 35^th Anniversary tour there; then they announced a gig at my old stamping ground Level 3, thus saving me a journey! Kirk Brandon’s strident operatic tones in the confined spaces of Lev? Hmmm, he might just take the roof off on one of his prolonged high notes…!

Drove up and met the Big Man at 8 in the Rolly for some entertaining rock chat, not only with him but with Dave from local alt-rock combo Abstraction Engine (whom I’d initially mistaken for Sheer Music impresario Keiran Moore!) and his mates. Eventually took a wander downstairs to catch the last knockings of support Feather Trade and their gloomy and doomy, bass-dominated grungy final number. Spent awhile spotting old faces from punk days, including being introduced to Claire (a friend of a friend of Rich’s – small world!) whom I recognised as the “Punk Queen” from late 70’s U18 Brunel! My old friend Lynn was there too… Kirk Brandon’s in town, so of course she is!

We were half expecting a second support of Ex Simple Minds man Derek Forbes and his band The Dark (a pun on Hooky’s band The Light, perhaps?) but none was forthcoming, so when the intro music to “The Sweeney” piped up at 9.45, it was Spear Of Destiny who took the stage to a 2/3rds full Lev bottom area (the top balcony closed off completely). Not the best of turnouts, particularly for a band I’d seen headline Hammersmith Palais and Bristol Colston Hall and rock Wembley Stadium on a U2 support, but Kirk and his cohorts played to the people who made the effort rather than lamenting those who didn’t, with a fully-charged, powerful and strident set. The drum dominated stomp of opener “Rainmaker” set the tone for some dark, doom laden yet potent post-punk anthems, none more soaring and terrace chant than “Young Men”, which was preceded by Kirk welcoming us with a jaunty, “Hello Swindonia! Welcome to One Eyed Jacks’ 35… we don’t quite know what we’re doing, but whatever…”

An entertaining run-through of my second favourite SOD LP (sorry, I preferred “World Service”, but “OEJ” is still a good ‘un) ensued, with Kirk’s enduring high-pitched, strident and almost operatic voice the commanding and dominant feature, keyboards and occasional sax providing a textural feel – much like contemporaries The Psychedelic Furs, SOD were never a really guitar riff-heady band… By the rolling dancefloor power anthem “Liberator” I was wishing I still had the knees I had in the 80’s (!), and a couple of numbers later I was down the front anyway with the self-proclaimed SOD “scum” (Kirk, following a welcome anti-Tory tirade, having given us a choice as to which world we wanted to live in – Eton or scum)! “Attica” was a jagged, almost funky jaunt, yet the best number of the “OEJ” run-through for me was “These Days Are Gone”, a windswept and expansive lament, excellently and moodily delivered.

A 6-song (!) encore featuring some new material was nonetheless bookended by tonight’s highlights; firstly a rocking, sneering “Land Of Shame” (by which time Lynn was down the front with me), then a fitting set closer with the haunting keyboard intro to SOD’s best number, “World Service”, Kirk revelling in the reception from the by-now packed dancefloor, and leading the crowd in a lengthy singalong of the “I hear music” hook. The band left the stage at the end of a very fine 1 3/4 hours, leaving Kirk to take the applause, promise Swindonia that “it’s not over yet” (a veiled reference to next year perhaps, when “World Service” turns 35?) and offering us “much love” I’ve had my ups and downs with Mr. Brandon in the past, but tonight he was a star, and this was certainly as good as I’d seen Spear since their 80’s heyday. As I remarked to Lev owner and till-girl (!) Violet on the way out, on this form you can invite Spear Of Destiny back anytime!

1,153 THE CHESTERFIELDS, Rodney Allen, Dai Nichi, Bristol Louisiana, Sunday 22nd September 2019

Hmmm, where to start with this one, on a night where old ghosts – sometimes literally! – seemed to crawl out of the walls…

The Chesterfields for me epitomised the mid-eighties C86 movement, their fresh-faced, buoyant and effervescent ramshackle pop making them the archetypal zeitgeist-catching DIY/fanzine band du jour. I’d seen them 9 ace, mainly alcohol-fuelled times between 1987 and 89, usually with the not-so-big-back-then Big Man by my side – or at the bar getting the round in…! Fluid of line-up, a split between founder members and co-singer-songwriters Simon Barber and Dave Goldsworthy heralded a slow demise for the band, and the tragic death of Goldsworthy in 2003 – victim of an apparent hit-and-run – seemed to put paid to there ever being a 10^th time “live” for me. However, news of an ersatz Chesterfields line-up, put together by Barber and featuring Andy Strickland of 80’s contemporaries the Caretaker Race, playing the 2016 International Pop Overthrow Festival, put them back on my watchlist, then finally a proper tour brought them home to Bristol – well, fairly close to their actual home of Yeovil – so I was there, again with The Big Man by my side!

Jason joined us too, so I picked the boys up after a Brixham weekend, getting the drinks in at The Louisiana’s downstairs pub on arrival. We largely decided against checking out openers Dai Nichi, which worked well for us, as the couple of numbers we did see were horribly amateurish. One time the diminutive vocalist apologised for a mid-song ricket, and I thought, which one… From the ridiculous to the sublime, however, with main support Rodney Allen. The “one man-cub and his guitar” of the Tropic support, waaaay back in 1987 (gig 83!), he now sports Reed Richards greying temples but still had the enthusiasm, charm and Weller/Bragg-esque delivery of yore. The achingly yearning kitchen sink drama of “Tell Me On Saturday”, the bolshy “That’s Entertainment”-alike observational “HappySad” and the fun flourish of “The Moped Song”; all familiar numbers from those 80’s days, that he apparently wrote, “when I was 16, and I’m now a man of 50-something!” Some fun, flippant chat too, but the most memorable moment was a bouncy yet poignant reading of The Chesterfields’ “Love Mountain”, for “the one person who couldn’t be here – Davey”. Nuff said.

Great stuff, so I stopped back after a loo break for a brief chat with Rodney, who was downstairs chatting to a young man with naggingly familiar features… I complimented him on his Davey tribute, and he then knocked me sideways by introducing his friend with, “this is Joseph!” Davey’s son, subject of Davey’s “Hopes For Lauren Or Joseph” song, and a man whom we actually toasted the birth of, at the Kentish Town Forum gig (no.100) back in May 1988! No wonder those features seemed familiar… Thankfully, he took my surprise, and subsequent tributes to his dad, with great equanimity. Chip off the old block, indeed…!

Back upstairs and in a spot near the front for The Chesterfields, tuning up onstage. Simon Barber, sole remaining original member, now bald, bearded and be-suited, led his charges gently into opener “Shame About The Rain”, the version slower and almost textural in comparison to the plaintive jangle-pop version of yore. Indeed, early doors this seemed the norm, the band slowly feeling their way into the material, the gig vibe feeling slow-burn and understated despite its’ near-hometown status. “We’re The Chesterfields,” announced Andy Strickland, “we have to say that as we played in Birmingham and Spear Of Destiny [our Tuesday hosts, ironically enough!] were next door – we had some strange people in the house!”

“We’ve had a wonderful week [this being the last date of a 7-date tour] and a wonderful way to remember Davey,” commented Simon before “Girl On A Boat”, the first number they wrote together. Andy then took lead for a Caretaker Race number, before “Fool Is A Man” really saw The Chesterfields step up a gear, with added toughness and conviction finally aligned to their Byrdsian jangle and upbeat bounce. The sharp descending riffery of “Last Train To Yeovil” saw Simon reference the “Milk Train” (caught that myself a few times, back in the day!); “Johnny Dee” was an absorbing slow burner, really taking flight into the final chorus, and an almost mature-sounding “Completely And Utterly”, more melodic and less brash than the original, ended the “set”, although the band ploughed onwards, through to final encore “Sweet Revenge”, sung by Simon’s brother Mark Barber, who also saw time with The Chesterfields. By that time I was bopping down the front, and, rather surreally, shoulder to shoulder with Joseph and signing lustily along to his dad’s songs. I hope Davey was looking down on us and grinning…

Hung fire afterwards for chats with Mark and Simon, who remembered us from those 80’s days, which was nice, then home after a fine way to finally get to my 10^th with The Chesterfields. Although, am I wrong to think that my enduring memory of this one will be meeting Joseph and seeing his dad’s features staring back at me? RIP Davey Chesterfield; you’re missed, but thank you for an excellent musical legacy.

1,152 CHRIS WEBB, Swindon The Tuppenny, Thursday 12th September 2019

The acoustic start to my 2019 “Autumn Dance Card” continues with my impromptu attendance at a solo performance by a man I’m more familiar with as part of Gaz Brookfield’s Company Of Thieves… unlike fellow Company man (that’s better than saying “fellow Thief”, right?) Nick Parker, I’d not been privy to Chris Webb’s solo outings, apart from his slot opening for Gaz at the famous “Logan onstage” Southampton gig last February (gig 1,073), a gig where he also helped Logan during his onstage antics, sharing his mic with my son during “Diabete’s Blues”. Been meaning to see him “live” since, just not had the chance (T’uh, excuses, excuses)… This one also seemed a little dicey, given that I was working through a laundry list of jobs in preparation for a family weekend in Brixham supporting my crazy wifey while she swam the Dart 10K Event, but luckily I manages to squeeze in a couple of hours to pop “Up the Tupp”…

Arrived just before 8.30, literally minutes before the man was due onstage, so had time to grab a drink, exchange pleasantries with Dave Franklin, then take a pew near the front for Chris’ performance in front of a score of keen local folk/acoustica fans and curious Thursday night punters. A gently meandering, mostly instrumental opener eased us in gently, then Chris commented on his having been compared vocally to Squeeze’s Glen Tilbrook (hmmm, don’t see that myself), which at least provided an excuse for an early and rather splendid cover of Squeeze’s joyously wordy “Up The Junction”. Great stuff!

“Wordy” in fact was probably a suitable summary for Chris’ performance tonight, albeit in the best possible way… Chatty, urbane and relaxed throughout, he told stories of other alleged comparisons as lead-ins to well-chosen covers (John Martin and Divine Comedy’s Neil Hannon, apparently), deftly avoided falling into the trap of telling Gaz stories to the Swindon audience, yet praised us as a “lovely” crowd and “Home from home – unlike Aylesbury, that was awful!”. His own material was generally less immediate and more complex than either of his Company bandmates, often requiring either some motormouth gabbling to fit all the words in (viz. the splendid “Heat”), or some seriously intricate finger-picking to cram all the notes in! Works for me, I’ve always been a fan of songs which have more verbiage than they can comfortably hold – The Hold Steady and early Del Amitri (a fairly valid comparison for Chris tonight) being enduring faves of mine…!

A 2-set showing with a break, this, with “Breakfast” opening the second set, Chris suggesting we check Youtube to, “find the video [for this] and watch me dance around like a twat!” “Bittersweet” (introduced as, “an arsey song,” which Chris wrote after a bad trip to Glasgow) featured a packed and undulating harmony line, “Parade” was more wistful and pastoral, oldie “Singing To The Sea” was almost Spanish-guitar influenced, and “Let’s Crash A Ceilidh” racier and the most Gaz-like of his offerings. But my favourite of the set was the upbeat and insistent melody of the closing “Compass”, which was preceded by Chris giving us a flash of his new “compass” gig socks!

So, overall a very entertaining way to spend a Thursday evening, and a prompter for me to check out Chris “live” more often (maybe after the new album – being mastered soon! – drops). As for comparisons? Well, Tilbrook, Martin, Hannon… you know what, with his dextrous guitar work, complex yet melodic material and laconic, laid-back yet chatty and voluble delivery, when I listen to Chris Webb I just hear… Chris Webb!