1,285 SIOUXSIE, Wolverhampton Civic Hall, Wednesday 21st June 2023

 

I get an unexpected chance tonight to right a 30-year gig wrong… I’d initially discovered Siouxsie And The Banshees in my early teens, of course, in that heady rush of late 70’s punk, enjoying their short, snappy singles (particularly the dramatic cascade of “Love In A Void” and circular fairground dervish dance of “Spellbound”, both excellent to dance to at Under 18 Brunel nightclub!), but oddly never delved further into their album material, even as they and I morphed into a mid-80’s Goth phase. So by their performance at Reading Festival 1993 (gig 248) they were well and truly out of step with my then largely US alt-rock dominated tastes; I gave them a few numbers, got bored, and walked away…

 My mistake. My 2016 post-redundancy re-evaluation of a few bands that had previously passed me by included The Banshees earlier albums, and I fell hard for their intricate, introspective post-punk pseudo-Goth sound and particularly the unique and inspired fretwork of the late John McGeoch on the excellent “Juju”. I immediately regretted I hadn’t paid more attention back then, and lamented the fact that I’d likely never get to see any of that material played “live”, given iconic lead singer Siouxsie’s apparent retirement to the wilds of rural France. So when scarcely believable news broke earlier this year that la Sioux was breaking a 15-year retirement to play a couple of European Festivals, I hoped against hope for a UK non-Fest date and was duly rewarded with this one, booking tix immediately. Wolverhampton? A bit of a trek, but who cares?

 Also joining me were old school buddy Keith Turner, with whom I’d bonded over punk rock back then, and his lovely wife Jen. Hit the road North at 4, hitting slow traffic off the M5 but parking up next to the venue just after 6 and wandering into the city centre for Thai curry tea! Back about 7.30, eventually squeezing into a house left spot, about 10 rows back, in this large and recently expensively refurbished auditorium. It didn’t feel like a gig venue; the toilets were clean and there was no queue at the bar! The place filled up in anticipation of Siouxsie’s arrival – no support tonight– and I noted with dismay a proliferation of 2 kinds of irregular gig goers; the entitled “5 to 3” late arrival types trying to shove in front of everyone, and conversely the “won’t move a muscle” folks usually prevalent in Boston! As I’m used to a bit of ebb and flow in the audience, this all felt a bit unnecessary, and made for a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere…

 Purporting to start at 8.30 prompt, the lights however didn’t dim until 20 to 9, the black clad backing band taking the stage to a baroque pastoral backing track. Finally la Sioux appeared… dressed (nay, draped) in flowing powder blue dress and sporting Cruella streaks of grey, she was immediately the focus as the band eased into the gloomy grunge growl of opener “Nightshift”. Mid-sixties now, but her charismatic stage presence was immediately apparent, grandiose of gesture, and The Voice of legend as inscrutable, insouciant and aloof as hoped, and dominant in the mix. A few flat notes, but hey, 15 years offstage is a loooong time…

 

That said, the early stages of the set drifted for me a little, an early, plangent “Arabian Nights” (which was preceded, oddly, by Siouxsie complimenting the local football team’s badge; “Black wolf’s head, what’s not to fucking love about that?!”) and the descending carousel twirl of “Dear Prudence” notwithstanding. Also, Siouxsie seemed a little unhappy with the onstage sound (commenting, “it’s swampy up here” and later challenging the venue to, “get your priorities right!”). However, things started looking up with “Cities In Dust” which was elegiac, sweeping and stately, and the Burundi style tribal percussion of a subsequent “But Not Them” was a dramatic and absorbing beast. The subsequent “Sin In My Heart” however really kick-started the set into life, the careering and seething punk rock thrill-ride of one of “Juju”’s highlights being overlaid by easily Siouxsie’s best vocal performance of the night for me, strident and powerful.

 After that, it was brilliant! The moody, bass-led “Christine” was followed by the terrific skeletal backbeat pitter-patter of “Happy House” and the hard-edged, heavy set closer “Into A Swan”, Siouxsie leading the band offstage briefly, only to re-emerge for the taut and tense “Switch” and an excellent rendition of “Spellbound” before exiting with a huge bouquet of flowers. We were then treated to a second encore, the wonderful oriental chimes of debut “Hong Kong Garden”, then the haunting slow-burn of “Israel” to close out a 1 hour 40 overall performance, Siouxsie leaving us with thanks and a flourish. I’d have liked a little more, particularly given the lack of support, but I couldn’t deny the old girl had put in a shift, ably backed by a very proficient if slightly anonymous band. And (unlike la Sioux) I had no complaints about the sound!

Managed to grab a list (my 999^th!) before a difficult drive home, involving 2 lengthy diversions off the M5 and A419, eventually getting back at 1 a.m. after dropping Keith and Jen off. A slowish start to the set, maybe, but definitely a strong finish, and fine company both on and offstage. I’m glad I got the chance to right this ancient gig wrong, so thank you Siouxsie!

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!

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

1,282 INTERPOL, Water From Our Eyes, Bristol O2 Academy, Thursday 1st June 2023

 

An odd one, this, from NYC post-punk guitar gloom merchants Interpol, back in my “live” crosshairs after a 5-year absence, which itself followed an absence of over 13 years… Interpol and the sadly missed Stellastarr* were easily the 2 most promising bands to emerge from a very fertile New York post-punk rock scene in the early 2000’s (Strokes? Shmrokes…), their sophomore 2004 effort “Antics” finding particular favour with me due to its’ dark, Bunnyesque atmospherics and sweeping drama, and giving me cause (after a fine set at this very venue in December 2004, gig 649) to proclaim them a truly important and influential band for this new Millennium. Their subsequent releases unfortunately proved to be anything but, to the point that I wasn’t really expecting much from their appearance on the Cure Hyde Park gig undercard in 2018 (gig 1,095). They however were the most pleasant surprise of that day, delivering a strident and sparkling performance, and I’ve at least enjoyed their subsequent couple of albums, whilst still acknowledging they’re not up to “Antics” standards. I was more intrigued than keen, therefore, when Stuart mentioned this one to me, but sorted tix anyway. Let’s see what this now-veteran band are still capable of “live”…

Stu picked me up at 6 and we hit the road for a sun-bathed drive down, joining the O2 Priority queue as it funnelled in and grabbing a barrier spot, house right. Result! Chatted away the time until openers Water From Our Eyes at 7.45. An NYC duo, they took “discordant” to a whole other level, a total random mess of taped beatbox and sheet metalwork noise, overlaid with shards of guitar and monotone female vocals, as if “Metal Machine Music”-era Lou Reed and early Laurie Anderson had actually had a kid, although nowhere near as cool as that sounds… Just as I was about to file them with the likes of Merz, Th’ Faith Healers and Russian Caravan as truly awful supports, they actually played a decent song, Summery, lilting and a little throwaway but still a zillion times better than before, and their subsequent material was more coherent, recalling the muddled moroseness of Viet Cong. It still felt less of a set, more an experimental art installation; they’re no doubt deeply hip in NYC art circles but, a better ending aside, I was glad when they were done!

A more difficult than expected return from a comfort break still saw me back in position for 9: a busy one, this, and a surprisingly young crowd… Interpol then took the stage to a mysterious white backlit strobe, however their insular and claustrophobic opener “Toni” was unfortunately dominated from the off by overpowering growling bass, with vocalist Paul Banks’ voice utterly submerged and indecipherable in the mix. Uh oh… Oldie “Obstacle 1” was an utter mess, the mix muddled and still bass-dominated, an early “Narc”’s staccato guitar riffery then overpowered the sound, the stripped-back, dubby mid-section the only time the mix sounded balanced, and “C’Mere” honestly sounded to me as if Banks and fellow guitarist Daniel Kessler were playing different songs, one guitar pattern actually sounding rather off-key too…

 

It took until Evil”, 8^th (!) number in, for the sound to even approach a balanced mix, its’ seething urgency and dynamic building chorus comfortably the set highlight, with Banks’ haunting, robotic vocals thankfully a little more audible, if still way too low in the mix. “If they’d got that wrong, I’d have just gone into the toilet to cry for the rest of the set,” I remarked to Stu afterwards! Thereafter things thankfully improved, with “All The Rage Back Home” a bombastic hurtling car chase of a song, the less overtly guitar-heavy “Take You On A Cruise” clear and balanced, and the strident punkish catapult twang of “Roland” highlights amongst some indifferent and morose bedfellows. The taut elasticity and bleak staccato pinprick guitar of “PDA” ended a proper Curate’s Egg of a set, the sound variable at best (and utter shite at worst), the band aloof and taciturn (Banks’ one comment about Bristol being beautiful – “I had a lovely day [here]” – notwithstanding).

 A 3 song encore featuring the haunting build of “Lights” to a widescreen wall of sound which thankfully stayed just the right side of discordant, a plaintive and rather lovely actually “No I In Threesome”, and closer “Slow Hands” which again sadly suffered from the mix, rounded off proceedings. Persistence paid off with the keyboard player’s list, then Stu and I hit the road debating this performance. As I said, an odd one, this, and a tough one to write up too. Like the girl with the curl, when this set was good (e.g. “Evil”, “Roland” and “No I In Threesome”) it was absolutely splendid, but when it was bad (most of the first 7 numbers, and bits and bobs thereafter sadly) it was very poor, either bass or guitar dominated, the sound unbalanced and with Paul Banks’ vocals either too quiet or utterly absent throughout. I’d so hoped for better from Interpol tonight, but after this performance, don’t be surprised if they’re off my gig radar for another 5 years or more…

1,281 THE STAYAWAKES, Rila’s Edge, The Gears Distribution, Guildford The Star Inn, Saturday 27th May 2023

 

How 3 gigs in 3 nights can easily become 4 in 5…! Those splendid Southsea harmony-led guitar ruffians The Stayawakes announced a slew of dates around the late May Bank Holiday, in support of new single “Life Gets In Your Way”, another honeyed, Summery amphetamine pop blast with a hook you could land a whale with, to add to their canon of similarly irresistibly catchy powerpop. Unfortunately, first glance of the schedule saw them nowhere near the ‘don (well, after they’d played Lydiard’s Cheese and Chilli Fest last July, gig 1,236, lightning was never going to strike twice), so I’d resigned to miss them this time around. However, a late-in-the-day revisit of their itinerary revealed Guildford actually wasn’t as far away as I’d remembered from my only previous gig there (The Wild Swans, back in 1988, gig 93!), so plans for a sunny Saturday evening road-trip adventure were hastily put in place…!

Hit the road just after 6, then, an M4 blast and winding Berkshire roads pitching me up at the car park near the river, just in time to catch the Championship play-off penalty shoot-out in the adjacent George Abbot pub! Crossed over the bridge and round the corner to the Star Inn, finding The Stayawakes in the bar of this multi-roomed/ level old Inn, and spending a convivial hour or so catching up with these splendid gentlemen, debating the vagaries of rock’n’roll fortune, and the importance of small venues such as tonight’s. Nipped up about 9 into the small and evocatively dingy black curtain-lined upstairs back room, where The Gears Distribution were rounding off a bolshy and urgently noisy old school punk-sounding set. A young 3-piece with a drummer/vocalist, their “I Don’t Like You” featured the tense, taut drama of early Ruts, whilst closer “Take It Out On Me” had a more agit-post punk feel. Either way, they didn’t seem to disturb the guy sleeping on the stage steps (!), until he asked the band to play Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now” as an encore! Wokingham five-piece main support Rila’s Edge, next up, were a different proposition, playing a robust and strong-armed type of expansive, radio-friendly pseudo indie rock, which from the outset strongly recalled The Killers. The set featured a few decent choruses, belted out with neck-bulging conviction by the young vocalist, and a nice creepy bass line underpinning the verse of their best number “Winona “ (no, not that one…), but overall it felt as if they were putting too much effort in, as if they were trying to batter us into submission with their numbers rather than play them. Mind you, I recall thinking the same about The Killers themselves during their 2002 British Sea Power support slot (gig 619) so what the fuck do I know, hey?

 The place, quiet during these 2 supports, then simply emptied as The Stayawakes set up, leaving me, 3 blokes sat at the back and the sound-guy/ doorman the only “audience” present… However, the Stayawakes are, to a man, veterans of what we euphemistically call “the toilet circuit”, where playing to the support acts and the bar staff actually constitutes a decent turnout, and are consequently well aware of their place in the pecking order of the rock’n’roll pantheon. Happily, that means they’re also inured to playing to the folks present, rather than the hordes that are absent (evidenced by vocalist/ guitarist Jimmy’s retort to my suggestion that I try and round folks up out of the pub for their set; “nah, fuck ‘em!”). And straight from the opening rolling drum and building guitar riff of opener “Wendy”, they were on it, playing for the sheer joy of playing, and delivering the type of ragged, raw, kinetic and elemental performance that encapsulates what I love about rock’n’roll, turning me into a “one man mosh” (thanks Peter!) from my house right spot. Indicating me, Jimmy announced, “this guy knows us… the rest of you don’t, but I can guarantee you won’t forget us!”

 

Jimmy gave a boost for the recently re-released debut “Dogs And Cats/ Living Together” before the hurtling, descending hook of that album’s “Inevitable Truth”; then guitarist/ vocalist Andrew relayed a message from the Brock Lesnar action figure sat on the monitor, “I’m here to kick your butt!”, before a shining rendition of newie “Life Gets In Your Way”. Then a simply awesome “Lovestruck” was again my overall set highlight, the huge swaggering and strafing hook driving the number along. The subsequent Pixies/ Weezerish swayalong of “Stepping Over Cracks” was actually a welcome respite for me from the riff-fuelled powerpop bullets, enabling me to take a much-needed breather! Finally, before closer “Little Explorer”, the boys persuaded the 3 guys at the back to come to the front, then this metronomic number saw Jimmy, bassist Peter and guitarist/ vocalist Andrew abandon the stage and riff furiously away in the faces of the 4 of us, myself included! A cracking set, once again, from this special rabble, and one I won’t forget in a hurry… A quick chat with the boys and a fellow veteran punter (who compared them to The Buzzcocks, to Jimmy’s delight), then I hit the road for a winding drive back, home at 20 to 1, after another splendid Stayawakes adventure!

1,280 ALVVAYS, Ex Void, London Kentish Town Forum, Thursday 25th May 2023

 

The third of 3 gigs in 3 nights, and, neatly bookending in with last night’s spritely female-fronted indiepop pipistrels flying in from far-flung fields to promote their third album (NZ’s The Beths), here’s another lot! This time it’s Canada’s Alvvays, gracing my “Dance Card” for the 6^th time but the first for over 5 years (damn Covid!), over in the UK to promote their 3^rd effort, last year’s “Blue Rev”. I have to confess that I found this a lot less immediate than their previous more upbeat releases, although its’ more textural and less jangly wall-of-sound shoegazey dreampop and submerged vocals however ultimately rewarded repeated listens, and still figured in my “Best Of 2022” compo CD and lists. Shame they weren’t playing anywhere closer (Bristol, yeah, but during an all-day festival), but I still booked tix for this one, curious as to how – or whether! – they’ll dovetail this more textural new approach into their usual buoyant live shows. We’ll see…

 A sunny mid-afternoon departure saw me parking up in Osterley as usual, taking the lengthy tube trek over to Kentish Town in time to join the O2 Priority queue (hooray!) just before 7 p.m. doors, and securing an easy barrier spot on which to rest my aching knee (third in 3, this, as I mentioned…). Formed a front row coalition with a couple of young fellow barrier-leaners, one a tall chap from Dover, and another a student from the Caribbean! Gig chat whiled away the hour until 8, when support Ex Void joined us. Featuring the former Joanna Gruesome m/f dual vocal attack of the close-shorn and strikingly tall Lan and her partner in crime, the tousled Adam Granduciel (War On Drugs) lookalike Owen Williams, I’m happy to report they were much improved from my one sighting of their former charges, supporting The Popguns back in 2012 (gig 846!)! This set showcased some intelligently crafted and robust US-inflected alt rock, which initially touched on the expansive countrified powerpop of Gin Blossoms (opener “Boyfriend”), through “Ray”-era Lemonheads (the discordant underlying riff of “In Love Again” strongly recalling Evan’s “Rudderless”) and more into chunky harmonic Teenage Fanclub riff-powered laze rock (set highlight, the penultimate “No Other Way”), via an acoustic interlude demonstrating Lan’s clean and clear set of pipes. Shame they only had vinyl copies of their record for sale on the merch stand, as this was an impressive opening set from a band I’d like to hear more of.

 The place got busier, but a between-bands comfort break was much easier than last night’s at SWX, and a fiddly pedals soundcheck bumped us right up to 9.15, Alvvays then taking the stage to the sound of harmonic (and doubtless Canadian!) Inuit chanting. Vocalist Molly Rankin, a little mumsier nowadays, led her band into new album opener “Pharmacist”, which sadly sounded a little flat, the mix not doing it any favours and the guitar pattern a little too discordant. “Earthquake” fared much better, however, particularly after a slow-burn mid-8 break, and by an excellent, strident and soaring “In Undertow” the mix was happily sorted, Yay!

 

Following those initial collywobbles, this was a sparkling and delightful set from an increasingly special band. Alvvays’ material is less overtly upbeat and much more subtle than, say, last night’s hosts The Beths (even on their faster tunes such as a rip-roaring later “Pomeranian Spinster”), but no less hooky and brain-hugging for that. And, particularly on their more slow-burn wall of sound numbers (even newies such as an early, lush “Many Mirrors” and the impressive final verse octave-shift of “Belinda”), there’s a warmth, a cosy familiarity to their music that envelops you like a chunky sweater or an old blanket. Also, Molly’s clear and soaring high-register vocals were happily less muffled than on “Blue Rev”, giving the new material a different dimension. As for the oldies, “Adult Diversion” was irresistibly jangly and hooky; “Not Your Baby” (introduced by Molly with, “feel free to get sentimental”) stripped-back and emotive; and “Hey” a superb mid-set highlight, Molly mayhem leading the band through a roaring 60’s US West Coast psych riff-fest. “Archie, Marry Me”, stylishly slotted mid-set, was however wonderful, a soaring, all-encompassing roof-raising singalong, and predictably the highlight of the night. But did you expect anything else, really…?

 Molly “stirred the pot” with some between-song banter about Noel Gallagher, before the penultimate “Easy On Your Own”, which was also a strident, soaring singalong. A punky, thrashy “Saved By A Waif” closed the set, before a 3-song encore featuring galloping oldie “Atop A Cake” rounded off a superb performance which, despite initial sound issues, may have been the best I’ve seen from Alvvays. A list thanks to a friendly roadie (who insisted on ensuring I had one!), then a crowded and truncated tube journey still pitched me up at the car at midnight, home at 1.30 a.m. after 3 (!) sets of slow roadworks on the M4. Yikes! But worth the lengthy trek to see Alvvays on this form, for sure, and a fine way to round off this hectic 3 in 3 schedule…

1,279 THE BETHS, Lande Heckt, Bristol SWX, Wednesday 24th May 2023

 

Barely a year after their Covid-affected, multiple-times-postponed UK tour for their sophomore album, 2020’s “Jump Rope Gazers” (April 2022, in fact; gig. 1,223), spritely New Zealand indiepop combo The Beths once again make the lengthy trek to the UK, to tour their third! Said album, “Expert In A Dying Field” was once again a shining glory-box of brain-hugging hookery and upbeat Summery indie tuneage, adding to an already-impressive body of work which has seen them as regulars on my recent “Best Of” annual compo CDs, and of course on my “Dance Card” gig itineraries. A Bristol gig at the (hopefully now completely repaired, following a fire in July 2021) SWX was therefore an essential one, also representing a step up in venue size for talented singer/ songwriter Liz Stokes and the boys. Let’s see how they adapt to this, then…

 Beef joined us for this one, popping round for 5.30, then we headed to Shrivenham to pick up Abstraction Engine boys David and Gareth before a swift journey saw us park up just before 7. My first SWX visit since said fire, and happily there’s a much wider entry staircase, and better gent’s loos! Grabbed drinks and a floor spot a few rows back, chatting before opener Lande Heckt at 8. A full band Lande this time, she/they were full on authentic C86/ Sarah Records revivalists, from the innocent, slightly gauche Summery tuneage evoking lazy days punting on the Thames, to the Breton shirts and oversized, turned-up jeans. An innocuous jangly vibe, if more than a little substantial and lacking oomph mix-wise, and also lacking memorable tunes, a more upbeat, Weddoes-like “80 Days Of Rain” and robust closer “Gay Space Cadets” notwithstanding.

 I’d wore my Parachute Men t-shirt tonight and, between bands, was approached by a gent who’d driven all the way from Derby for tonight’s tour opening night (that’s dedication for you!), but who’d also played in a band with original Paras drummer Mark Boyce! Had a nice chat while the dancefloor in this awkwardly-shaped venue got ever more crowded; then at 9.20 the strains of a casio-tone version of “Future Me Hates Me” fed through the PA, The Beths then taking the stage and romping through the actual version, accompanied by the sudden mid-song inflation of a giant trout head (who actually got an introduction when The Beths attempted a somewhat awkward round-robin band intro, as “Bird”!) to surprised cheers. An early “Out Of Sight” took a couple of tries to get going (“we forgot to press record,” quipped drummer Tristan), before its’ understated, pastoral verse ceded to some serious middle-8 shredding from vocalist Liz, then “Great No One” – one of many Beths numbers which give the impression of actually accelerating throughout the song! – featured excellent harmonies from the happily-restored guitarist Jonathan (after missing that Fleece gig 1,223 through illness) and bassist Ben, contrasting with Liz’ pure, lilting lead line.

 

Harmonies were actually quite to the fore tonight; as per the support, the guitar sound again felt a little less upfront in the mix (particularly during “Head In The Clouds”, which sadly sounded notably less robust than on record), but this allowed Jonathan and Ben’s delightful vocal backups greater prominence in the sound. Suits me, I’ve always been a sucker for 3-part harmonies, and on the slower numbers such as the plaintive, beautiful “Your Side”, the lush “Jump Rope Gazers” and the countrified, “Shame About Ray”-era Lemonheads-esque “When You Know You Know” they were the main feature. They’ve worked on their between-song banter too; Liz’ early comment about the nice weather in Bristol turned into a climate change critique (their native Auckland suffering recent floods), and Tristan later recounted catching a bus in Bristol and enjoying using the phrase, “cheers drive!”. “Less Than Thou” was a superb mid-set highlight, a slow burn riff building to a metronomic and absorbing thrill-ride recalling War On Drugs (!); “Dying To Believe” was a tremendous fizz-pop blast with some great strident mid-song “whoo”’s (I did a Mexican wave for these; sadly no-one joined in!); however my overall highlight was set closer “Expert In A Dying Field”, the harmonies once again lush and quite, quite lovely, particularly during the final deconstructed choral outro.

 A gabbling, galloping “Little Death” capped a 2 song encore and an overall splendid showing from this talented combo. Waited for a list afterwards until the lights went on and we were ushered to the back, then had an unpleasant run in with an utter jobsworth asshat security bloke who rather pettily told his colleague (who was in the process of sorting out a list for me, as he’d previously promised) not to give it to me. Then, as I resignedly leaded off to the exit, a Specialist Subject promoter chap tapped me on the shoulder and gave me his copy! Result! Score 10 for SS, minus 1,000,000 for SWX security… So, a happy drive back to drop the boys off, home just after midnight after a fine pop-filled evening out with the boys and The Beths!