Sunday, April 24, 2011
Fragile Thing
It’s been a very long time since I was reliant purely on public transport to get to the gig, something like fourteen years at a guess, but needs must when nobody drives because the car’s off the road. Had I not already had the ticket on my pinboard, I would have found it very easy indeed not to bother, and I was still not 100% even after the online train ticket booking window had shut.
Dumping the bike outside the station, I just made the earlier train of the two options I had, and arrived at the other end with time to spare. A leisurely stroll across to the venue without looking at the clock meant I had something to go on for gauging what time to leave the show. Knowing that the venue curfew is after my train left is useful information gathering.
At the venue with the doors still shut, which is pretty unusual for me these days, I decided against joining the queue in favour of nipping up the road for chips from the kebab shop. Fine dining on the road!
Getting the rucksack of bike lights, waterproof, tools etc into the gig was fine on the proviso it was going in the cloakroom, and Sam Lloyd was in the middle of her first song by the time I got in front of the stage. Female vocal and acoustic guitar is a combination I like a lot, she’s a decent enough guitar player and her voice is quite strong but I can’t say her material really grabbed me.
Second support Mike Marlin is a five piece band named for the singer, frontman, raconteur, shambling wreck of a showman and a few other things besides. Located between Mark Lanegan’s growl and Guy Garvey’s genial landlord, MM is backed by a band where it varies from song to song whether the lead instrument is the bass, piano or guitar. "Interesting" risks sounding like criticism but it really isn’t meant that way. But doing anything particularly interesting in the modern popular music idiom is fairly remarkable, and I'd like to hear more.
Now, carrying on as a band when the line-up changes in terrible circumstances is a funny one at the best of times. When I saw the three piece version of Big Country a few years ago they were on storming form, so I was really curious about what this version would offer. The addition of Jamie 'Son Of Bruce' Watson on guitar means there’s now two skinny jeaned blokes bouncing around stage right, which adds a little depth to the guitar sound but isn’t a dramatic change.
Bringing in another singer, on the other hand can’t help but be a significant change. Bringing in another singer from more or less your generation is one way to go. Bringing in Mike Peters makes some sort of sense, even if I’m not sure how his distinctive voice will work, but with history in common he talks about Stuart Adamson repeatedly, as you might expect.
I love The Alarm (that’s Peters, Sharp, MacDonald, Twist - accept no substitutes, kids!) and I’ve seen Mike a dozen times in various guises, hell there’s even a tape of a highly personal dedication story and song that may yet emerge in certain company at some point so I don’t especially have an axe to grind. But while it’s noticeable how he takes to the role of frontman, all waving arms and shouting ‘come on!’ and this does get the crowd going, there’s a little bit trying too hard in talking about Stuart Adamson being passed over the heads of the crowd decades ago and then appearing in the pit shortly thereafter. I don’t know, it’s a difficult job and there is no replacing Stuart so maybe adding your own stamp to singing his songs is always going to be difficult. Personally I’d rather just listen to Peters sing, and on songs like Fragile Thing I’m not sure his voice has ever sounded better.
After fourteen songs, and with Tony Butler talking about the current relevance of Where The Rose Is Sown, it’s time to reclaim my rucksack and head for the station. Missing my train would leave me relying on there being one at 01.30 and getting home about 3am, so it’s with good reason I walk out with Wonderland ringing around the venue and delighted I did make the effort to get there. Even if the knock-on effects at a time when I’m already quite remarkably stressed and tired are something I can do without.
Dumping the bike outside the station, I just made the earlier train of the two options I had, and arrived at the other end with time to spare. A leisurely stroll across to the venue without looking at the clock meant I had something to go on for gauging what time to leave the show. Knowing that the venue curfew is after my train left is useful information gathering.
At the venue with the doors still shut, which is pretty unusual for me these days, I decided against joining the queue in favour of nipping up the road for chips from the kebab shop. Fine dining on the road!
Getting the rucksack of bike lights, waterproof, tools etc into the gig was fine on the proviso it was going in the cloakroom, and Sam Lloyd was in the middle of her first song by the time I got in front of the stage. Female vocal and acoustic guitar is a combination I like a lot, she’s a decent enough guitar player and her voice is quite strong but I can’t say her material really grabbed me.
Second support Mike Marlin is a five piece band named for the singer, frontman, raconteur, shambling wreck of a showman and a few other things besides. Located between Mark Lanegan’s growl and Guy Garvey’s genial landlord, MM is backed by a band where it varies from song to song whether the lead instrument is the bass, piano or guitar. "Interesting" risks sounding like criticism but it really isn’t meant that way. But doing anything particularly interesting in the modern popular music idiom is fairly remarkable, and I'd like to hear more.
Now, carrying on as a band when the line-up changes in terrible circumstances is a funny one at the best of times. When I saw the three piece version of Big Country a few years ago they were on storming form, so I was really curious about what this version would offer. The addition of Jamie 'Son Of Bruce' Watson on guitar means there’s now two skinny jeaned blokes bouncing around stage right, which adds a little depth to the guitar sound but isn’t a dramatic change.
Bringing in another singer, on the other hand can’t help but be a significant change. Bringing in another singer from more or less your generation is one way to go. Bringing in Mike Peters makes some sort of sense, even if I’m not sure how his distinctive voice will work, but with history in common he talks about Stuart Adamson repeatedly, as you might expect.
I love The Alarm (that’s Peters, Sharp, MacDonald, Twist - accept no substitutes, kids!) and I’ve seen Mike a dozen times in various guises, hell there’s even a tape of a highly personal dedication story and song that may yet emerge in certain company at some point so I don’t especially have an axe to grind. But while it’s noticeable how he takes to the role of frontman, all waving arms and shouting ‘come on!’ and this does get the crowd going, there’s a little bit trying too hard in talking about Stuart Adamson being passed over the heads of the crowd decades ago and then appearing in the pit shortly thereafter. I don’t know, it’s a difficult job and there is no replacing Stuart so maybe adding your own stamp to singing his songs is always going to be difficult. Personally I’d rather just listen to Peters sing, and on songs like Fragile Thing I’m not sure his voice has ever sounded better.
After fourteen songs, and with Tony Butler talking about the current relevance of Where The Rose Is Sown, it’s time to reclaim my rucksack and head for the station. Missing my train would leave me relying on there being one at 01.30 and getting home about 3am, so it’s with good reason I walk out with Wonderland ringing around the venue and delighted I did make the effort to get there. Even if the knock-on effects at a time when I’m already quite remarkably stressed and tired are something I can do without.
Labels: Big Country, gigs
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Don't Give In, It Will Repeat, It Will
Over and over and over and over, watching the same band many, many times can pale a little over the years. So it's often the what's new this time angle that is the interesting stuff, and this is no different: with the departure of Andres Karu from drumming duties - and given the transatlantic distance between one band member and the others, it's perfectly understandable that it becomes difficult to combine the rest of your life around that - there's a new face on the drum stool.
First man onto the stage, Fuzz Townsend is not an unfamiliar face to some of us, partially hidden behind shades and under a hat though his face is. As a veteran of Pop Will Eat Itself, Fuzz is rather closer to The Wonder Stuff's history, so it's going to be interesting to see how that changes things. With an hour-long set in the support slot for the tour, the stories are largely cut out as hit follows hit. The story about Kirsty MacColl that introduces Welcome To The Cheap Seats still brings a chill, Mother And I is still a welcome recent return to the set, and Sing The Absurd is dedicated to those of us who've survived all those years is preferable to a number of other possibilities.
Hammered down into the condensed set format, this is verging on a fantastically tight performance, perhaps at the crucial point of just easing into a new routine and before actually hitting cruising level. The little bit of ongoing adjustment of Fuzz to everyone else looks like it'll settle down further as time ticks on, but it's definitely a great time to see The Wonder Stuff all the same.
Celebrating the twentieth anniversary of the Levelling The Land album, headliners The Levellers split the two sides (remember that, kids?) of the album with a handful of associated b-side tracks, and the re-appearance of The Devil Went Down To Georgia is a pleasant surprise among them. With the balcony bouncing alarmingly and the wave of heat rising off a venue I've rarely seen this packed in all my previous visits - and this now my fourth most attended venue, it turns out - it's more a sensory experience than a spectacle to watch, and after Battle Of The Beanfield I made a sharp exit instead of hanging around to see what would happen in the encore, in the faint hope of getting home and not increasing my current sleep deficit by too much.
All that, and posters advertising a couple of gigs that I really want to see in the coming months that will drag me back out onto the motorway with the excitement of finally seeing a couple of acts that have been on my radar for variously a couple of months and a couple of decades. Here we go again.
First man onto the stage, Fuzz Townsend is not an unfamiliar face to some of us, partially hidden behind shades and under a hat though his face is. As a veteran of Pop Will Eat Itself, Fuzz is rather closer to The Wonder Stuff's history, so it's going to be interesting to see how that changes things. With an hour-long set in the support slot for the tour, the stories are largely cut out as hit follows hit. The story about Kirsty MacColl that introduces Welcome To The Cheap Seats still brings a chill, Mother And I is still a welcome recent return to the set, and Sing The Absurd is dedicated to those of us who've survived all those years is preferable to a number of other possibilities.
Hammered down into the condensed set format, this is verging on a fantastically tight performance, perhaps at the crucial point of just easing into a new routine and before actually hitting cruising level. The little bit of ongoing adjustment of Fuzz to everyone else looks like it'll settle down further as time ticks on, but it's definitely a great time to see The Wonder Stuff all the same.
Celebrating the twentieth anniversary of the Levelling The Land album, headliners The Levellers split the two sides (remember that, kids?) of the album with a handful of associated b-side tracks, and the re-appearance of The Devil Went Down To Georgia is a pleasant surprise among them. With the balcony bouncing alarmingly and the wave of heat rising off a venue I've rarely seen this packed in all my previous visits - and this now my fourth most attended venue, it turns out - it's more a sensory experience than a spectacle to watch, and after Battle Of The Beanfield I made a sharp exit instead of hanging around to see what would happen in the encore, in the faint hope of getting home and not increasing my current sleep deficit by too much.
All that, and posters advertising a couple of gigs that I really want to see in the coming months that will drag me back out onto the motorway with the excitement of finally seeing a couple of acts that have been on my radar for variously a couple of months and a couple of decades. Here we go again.
Labels: gigs, Levellers, The Wonder Stuff
Traiveller's Joy - End Of An Era
I know, you won't be the first to point out that postings have been a little bare on here in recent times.
There's a couple of reasons, partly it's down to being busy doing stuff rather than writing about stuff, partly down to the effect that has on the stuff I'm prepared to write about. But the most significant change came in January 2011, the first calendar month in which I've not been to a live gig since about August 2004. And there's been a good few bands broken up, reformed, lost members and been through other dramatic changes since then, so I'm in good company.
Having ended up back in full time employment and at a place where I'm perfectly happy, I'm combining the slow progress of getting my financial stability back, which isn't damaged by the closure of a few of my favourite venues, both locally and further afield. So if I'm being more selective about the tickets I buy and the distances I'll travel to use them, there's a pretty good reason for that.
Gigs in the meantime then; watching Emily Smith do Karine Polwart's Better Things at Richard Thompson's festival of political song last summer, I was delighted a few months ago to find she would be coming to my town, though it's a good job I didn't buy a ticket immediately as it turned out I couldn't make that gig as I was away. On the plus side, I did make the gig in another town even if emerging from Heathrow airport at 5pm on a friday night isn't the calmest planning for a gig that evening.
Making it to my hotel with moments to spare, I arrived at the venue in time to miss just the first song. She's an engaging performer, the inter-play between her and the husband is amusing and there's plenty to be said for someone doing something traditional with a modern twist. That said, I'm not entirely convinced by the material when it sometimes needs the story explaining beforehand and also includes repeated requests to join in on a chorus where the lines to accompany are complicated enough to escape the short-term memory immediately.
The early start with no support meant that by a quarter to ten I was strolling the streets in search of a chip shop, after a week some way further north though that's another story. I returned to my hotel to catch a little sleep, to watch the telly and catch up on some emails.
Phew, rock n roll!
_
There's a couple of reasons, partly it's down to being busy doing stuff rather than writing about stuff, partly down to the effect that has on the stuff I'm prepared to write about. But the most significant change came in January 2011, the first calendar month in which I've not been to a live gig since about August 2004. And there's been a good few bands broken up, reformed, lost members and been through other dramatic changes since then, so I'm in good company.
Having ended up back in full time employment and at a place where I'm perfectly happy, I'm combining the slow progress of getting my financial stability back, which isn't damaged by the closure of a few of my favourite venues, both locally and further afield. So if I'm being more selective about the tickets I buy and the distances I'll travel to use them, there's a pretty good reason for that.
Gigs in the meantime then; watching Emily Smith do Karine Polwart's Better Things at Richard Thompson's festival of political song last summer, I was delighted a few months ago to find she would be coming to my town, though it's a good job I didn't buy a ticket immediately as it turned out I couldn't make that gig as I was away. On the plus side, I did make the gig in another town even if emerging from Heathrow airport at 5pm on a friday night isn't the calmest planning for a gig that evening.
Making it to my hotel with moments to spare, I arrived at the venue in time to miss just the first song. She's an engaging performer, the inter-play between her and the husband is amusing and there's plenty to be said for someone doing something traditional with a modern twist. That said, I'm not entirely convinced by the material when it sometimes needs the story explaining beforehand and also includes repeated requests to join in on a chorus where the lines to accompany are complicated enough to escape the short-term memory immediately.
The early start with no support meant that by a quarter to ten I was strolling the streets in search of a chip shop, after a week some way further north though that's another story. I returned to my hotel to catch a little sleep, to watch the telly and catch up on some emails.
Phew, rock n roll!
Labels: Emily Smith, gigs
