overlap

Just a quick note to say have a good xmas and a new year full of excitement and happiness. If you are one of those people I know, to some limited degree, your visit is appreciated, and if you are here because I mentioned the name of your band, feel free to email me if you disagree with what I said or want me to explain further exactly what I mean. I've no idea what I'll be doing this time next year, but the nature of life is change, and I'm sure that if there's anything of even limited interest happening, it'll turn up here or in my facebook status. Now, fridge, bottle, glass - cheers!

Exactly twenty two years ago right now was my first encounter with someone who changed my life in many, many ways. I'm lucky that my memory serves me well, and I don't sit looking at the calendar waiting for dates to come round, but I do have the odd moment of realisation that 'ooh, today is *that* day'. In that same vein, I have previously noted on here such things as paying off my negligible student loan, and the anniversary of last time I signed off. Which is but one reason why I'm a) not a fan of the festive season and all the mandatory fun it brings with it, and b) happy to leaven my minor disappointment at this redundancy thing with the knowledge I have lived through plenty worse. This grasp of historic context also means I'm in a good position to embrace the forthcoming change with a degree of acceptance. I am, and have been for some time, in no doubt that I've been enjoying the fat years. I'm happy that I have seen every band I could ever want to, rock stars dead too early obviously excepted, so I really don't expect to be feeling that I'm missing out when my gig-going inevitably tails off for a bit. I'm also definitely not thinking 'I wish I'd worked a lot harder over the last few years, even though I'd still be getting the boot no matter what I'd done'. You may imagine! The end of the year usually brings lists of the year's best shoes, the year's best dinners, the year's best Chris Hoy, and the year's best, well, everything, so I guess I'm just getting in on the act early. * as well as being descriptive, I've a feeling the Neil Sedaka song of that name would be one of the first examples I heard of a song with overt lyrical dexterity, however laboured you may think the working in the names of all the months is. And it's stuff like that and the Everly Brothers that were among the first things I ever heard and actively listened to, and ultimately responsible for me ending up spending quite as much time and money on music as I have - influences can come from funny places, and not necessarily where you expect.

Despite having been there on the same day the previous week, it seemed a very long time from my previous visit to that venue, the end of eight days of five gigs, a football match, a fascinating lecture, around a thousand miles of driving and somewhere in the middle of that taking a very heavy flyer on ice and being barely able to walk for a couple of days, so at least not having far to go was a relief. In a break from recent routine, and a concession to pragmatism, I was there sufficently early not to miss a note as I realised I didn't have the cash to pay for the car park, which was the likely consequence of not being on time to get one of the few street parking spaces before what I already knew to be a sold out show. Openers The Noelie McDonnell Band don't have a hard job to warm up the already swelling crowd, and it's a bold move for anyone to expect to come across well over tight electric rhythm section with just a voice and an acoustic guitar. The warmth of McDonnell's voice makes them sound like a stripped down Hothouse Flowers (and that is definitely meant as a compliment by the way!). He's an appealing frontman, gets the crowd to join in with repeat choruses of the word 'happiness', on what I imagine is the song of the same name. You can't ask for much more of a support band, and it's a great way to start the night. Back in the early 90s, I had come across the name The Saw Doctors well before I picked up copies of their first two albums from a chap I was working with in France, and was immediately hooked. After half a dozen shows in the mid-90s, I hadn't seen them in quite a number of years and after charting hits over here, we're now back into venues where the capacity is in hundreds rather than thousands, and I'm well overdue for catching up with them again. A lot of what I said about the Show Of Hands gig applies equally, it's an honest, open and ultimately human experience. But where SoH play with a fire that's underpinned by a more distinctly political element, Leo Moran and Davy Carton's songwriting give this show an undoubted streak of humour. From Tommy K (with its accompanying actions) to Bless Me Father, there's a lot of fun in what turns out to be a big party on a little stage, but for me the real catch is in the unashamed emotional yearning in the likes of You Got Me On The Run and Exhilarating Sadness, which Leo introduces tonight by saying "I recently got asked to add someone as a friend on Facebook, which happens to be someone I wrote this song about twenty years ago, but that's the way it goes sometimes..." Despite the cramped confines of a sold-out gig, some people still reckon their having a good time is far more important than respecting anyone else's personal space, so there are a few tense moments which could have been avoided if people behaved more like grown-ups. With a distinct lack of room to move about, there is pushing and jostling caused by an insistence on conversation in some quarters, and repeat trips to the bar and the toilet, often by the same people who are desperate to tell their mates what a fantastic time they are having, and it gets a bit unnecessary. And yet despite that I'm glad to stay to the end of a full two hours of a set which comes towards a close with a fantastic Red Cortina, including the cunning trick of keeping the vocal refrain going at the end while everyone moves around and plays a different instrument to the one they started on. I could happily have done without the final extended run through Hay Wrap, as its comedy novelty has long since worn off for me, but although I rocked a lot harder for A, I haven't sweated as much as I did at this gig for some time. Special mention for the stellar backing vocals of Antony Thistlethwaite. *The second Saw Doctors album, All The Way From Tuam, has only two tracks I'm not really a fan of, and provides a pretty good five word intro to them!

Labels: gigs, Noelie McDonnell Band, The Saw Doctors

If it's a monday night just before xmas, this must be Wolverhampton, with The Wildhearts, some bunch of Americans I'm barely familiar with and, crucially for my bothering to make the effort to get there, a classic Brit metal band getting back on stage for the first time in a while. The torrential rain on the M5 and the associated driving standards meant I didn't catch all of the first bunch, but I'm glad I saw what I did. Tragedy is an appropriate name for a Bee Gees cover band, but it'll be interesting to see where it takes them. From the back of the room I did half wonder if it was AntiProduct's Alex Kane as they have a certain visual similarity from a distance, though vocally they sound rather more like Love/Hate, or Skid Row, or several others of that particular ilk. Hayseed Dixie are a fantastic comedy tribute band, but I'm still not convinced covering just the one act has much longevity to offer. We'll see. Around the end of my regular reading of Kerrang! there was one name that kept coming up. Predictably praised by Ginger, it took a bit of effort to get to see A for the first time but it was worth the trouble. With a name that's great for finding in the record racks but terrible for tracking down in the information age, I watched them grow through several albums as far as hit singles and Top Of The Pops, and enjoyed every bit. Turns out I last saw them in 2002, which wasn't all that long before they sort of ran out of steam and found other things to do with their time. While Dan Carter may be busy with Radio One and other projects, John Mitchell has ably stepped into the breach playing bass. Otherwise we have a full complement of the Perry boys, and Mark Chapman on guitar. The Hi-fi Serious album in particular takes me back to a time in my life when all sorts of things were going on, and it’s especially good to hear Going Down again. Where Old Folks talks of people who are ‘almost thirty now’, for many of those the title of this post is now of greater relevance, coming from a b-side track on the House Under The Ground single called ‘40’, as even Jason complains that being thirty-nine he needs to catch his breath between songs. Of course he could save his breath by talking a bit less nonsense, but that’s all part of the appeal and I’m not sure anyone would have it any other way. Fantastic to see them again after all this time. That setlist in full: Rush Song/ Monkey Kong/Starbucks/Going Down/The Distance/Old Folks/Foghorn/Nothing Jason Perry in 'oh no, I look like a fat Sting!' shocker. It’s often the case that gigs which have some sort of difficulty to overcome attached to them turn out to be that little bit more special than something that’s just another thoroughly competent show. While not quite on the scale of the stunning atmosphere of the All About Eve show where Julianne’s voice was going and she managed just half a dozen songs, this was one such performance as Ginger’s voice was noticeably compromised by the effects of recent touring. It meant we got a lot more of CJ’s vocals turned up in the mix, and a surprisingly chirpy Ginger doing those songs he could manage without further damaging his throat. Someone That Won’t Let Me Go would have been enough for a really good gig, as to be honest I don’t listen to a lot of their back catalogue very often these days. And while there’s always a drawn out Caprice that I could happily live without, there’s also always a Just In Lust or a Red Light Green Light to rip through with plenty of goodwill to see it through rather than have the gig pulled. It was on my mind that I could happily leave after STWLMG, and as it turned up the third song in the set I could have been in for a relatively early night. As it turned out, I stayed right through to the bitter end, so much was I enjoying it. Probably the most enjoyable of the last half dozen or so times I’ve seen them, and definitely heightened by the struggle to keep Ginger’s voice going, and the welcome return of My Baby Is A Headfuck. Surprisingly excellent.

Labels: A, gigs, The Wildhearts, Tragedy

Some days are impossible to get through without think 'life doesn't get much better than this!', so I'm glad I've developed the capacity to recognise such things. A slightly earlier than normal start had me on the road in enough time to take care of a couple of errands before getting to the ground. "Big star players" coming to a lower league club to finish their career is not something that always works out for the best, and I'll admit to certain reservations at the time. With a few goals, a load of nice touches and cracking workrate including the odd yellow card for an excess of tackling, I was happy to rapidly be proved wrong. Roy of the Rovers has got nothing on the way Darren Anderton absolutely leathered the ball from the edge of the box to bow out of professional football by scoring the only goal of the game in the 88th minute. From my position behind the post I watched it all the way in, and as it hit the back of the net with a resounding slapping sound, the place erupted and rightly so. Thanks Darren, way to go! Legging it through the post-match euphoria that had people wandering all over the roads, I had a 100 miles to cover to a venue that was opening its doors less than an hour after I got back to my car. Insert your own comment about the inevitability of missing support bands here! I only just missed Vile Evils, but I've seen them before and will hope to catch them again when the album emerges early next year. Even if I hadn't got caught up in traffic on the end of the M4, and in the immobile pedestrian throng blocking Charing Cross Road, I still wouldn't quite have made it so I'm glad I wasn't rushing any harder. I don't know if the closing date is published yet, but if this is to be my last gig at The Astoria, it's a fine way to go out. In a close copy of the previous night, this was the original line-up of Ned's Atomic Dustbin playing together for the first time in rather more than a decade. Dan Dan the fast drumming man does exactly what you'd expect of him, and Alex's bass as lead guitar work is as distinctively melodic as ever. Jonn jumps about a lot, and has a chin. The returning pair have slightly differing approaches, Rat plays his guitar, concentrates on playing his guitar and smiles a bit while playing his guitar. Mat, on the other hand, looks like a man who can't believe all his Christmases have come at once, and over the eighty-odd minutes they play probably says more into either Alex's or Jonn's mike than he did in the whole of his previous tenure in the band! I really doubt there was anyone in the place having as much fun as Mat obviously did. Much as I love the distinctive sound of Alex's bass, Jonn's lyrics can tend towards more sound than text, and for a Ned's jukebox this was pretty much a perfect set, ending early for a club night, as is the way. The early finish meant I was back on the road well before 23.30 and some remarkably clear roads saw me home again, 370 miles later by 2am. And all put together that's a pretty damn good way to spend a day! * Happy was NAD's highest charting single, a UK number 16 in 1991.

Labels: gigs, Ned's Atomic Dustbin

Sticking with not making it to see every minute of support bands, this one had me enjoying the deserted shops around the corner to catch up on some seasonal gift shopping and cast envious glances towards the women with seasonal events to go to in their fabulous party frocks before getting inside the venue just in time for the second support band. Olympus Mons (or Mount Olympus to you) is already sufficiently indistinct for them to also be listed as 'Olympus Minds', but you know what I'm going to say about bands and their names. A three piece, the drums and bass are pretty tight but the guitarist-singer is undoubtedly the one who catches the eye. The vocals are not especially distinct, though that's not news in this venue, but he wrings some fabulous chiming tones out of his Telecaster. I won't be rushing to track down an album at the earliest opportunity, but you really can't knock someone who takes off his hat to reveal an afro stretching just as wide as his shoulders. It's one of those quirks of timing, or perhaps not, that when Dodgy were at the height of their chart success it was towards the end of a longstanding government that couldn't get enough of attacking people, from the viciousness of Section 28 to the anti-fun stupidity of the version of the criminal justice act of the time, it was hardly a high point in social inclusiveness. At a time when the economy is circling the plughole and the current government claims ever more powers to barcode, DNA register, database and otherwise track its citizens, regardless of the legality of or justifiable need for such activities, there's a certain parallel in it being time for a change, and a time of hope for something better. So here they are, back this time without a broken arm, and playing within sensible range for the first time since last year's initial reconvening. In the olden days they were a fantastic live band, one of very few where I've paid a tout for a ticket when I hadn't been sufficiently on the ball, but even so I'm mildly surprised how good it is to see them again. Making The Most Of, a song for those and for these times, showcases their perfect marriage of pop harmonies and Andy Miller's guitar solos which do enough but never risk over-doing it in the context of the song. I remembered Math Priest being a great drummer, but seeing how hard he works at the vocal harmonies as well from this close range is a revelation. Nigel Clark always had something to say for himself, but in between a dozen or so songs he also has enough time for his chat to run away with itself into a few different rambling streams of babbling not-quite-nonsense and with the addition of keyboards from their Austin Powers lookalike mate, it all adds up to a glorious up-tempo, high entertainment value pop noise where the chat never detracts from the music. Easily one of my top five gigs of the year, welcome back! Nigel in high grain blur-o-vision: * Waiting For The Day is a song from the second Dodgy album, Homegrown

Labels: Dodgy, gigs, Olympus Mons

It probably is a sign of increasing age when catching the whole of an unknown support band is no longer the appealing proposition it might once have been, and finishing the email I was about to send turned out the higher priority. Ruarri Joseph is a cheery folk-acoustic singer, who seems to have enough shows under his belt to know what he's doing on a stage. There's something a tiny bit too polished for me in that, and while I know he's got a new album to promote and all the rest of it, I might have preferred to hear one more song by the time we get to the sixth reminder that the album is on sale at the back. He's got a decent voice, and he's ably assisted by a second guitarist who allows him all the limelight, the songs sound fine so really I'm just nit-picking about the delivery. Every now and then something reaches out and grabs me on first listening, and so it was with Show Of Hands when I heard them in session for Mike Harding a couple of years ago. Opening the show with a version of Martyn Joseph's Cardiff Bay, one of the defining characteristics of Show Of Hands is a local sensibility, which should be understood to be anything but parochial. All manner of traditional folk tunes are instantly accessible to Phil Beer's multi-instrument mastery, Miranda Sykes provides double bass and an extra layer of vocal harmonies and Steve Knightley is a perfect middle ground between the two of them. In Roots they have a song that spoke to me about English national identity in a way that only Billy Bragg's England, Half-English has previously come near. While they are award-winning Devonians, it's hardly a far cry from my own Dorset background, and in Undertow they have a song that speaks eloquently of exactly the sort of nothing going on seaside town I come from, and indeed had to leave behind in search of a more meaningful existence. Fittingly for a gig in a former church, and which retains a full complement of its external church architecture, this is less a performance and more a participation event, and it's almost irresistable to sing along. Cousin Jack deals with the exodus of Cornish Mniners in search of work, and with its uplifting chorus "where there's a mine or a hole in the ground/that's where I'm headed for, that's where I'm bound" has a differently specific local relevance, which sends a shiver up my spine. In between the story-telling of The Dive and the social history/commentary of Country Life, it's precisely this sort of thing that truly defines them as folk music for folk everywhere. Excellent. * Innocents' Song is a haunting ballad about Herod, sung by Phil Beer and based on the words of a poem by Charles Causley - season's greetings to you too!

Labels: gigs, Ruarri Joseph, Show Of Hands