The best of both wardrobes. And a lot more besides.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Step Back In Time - part 3 of a few
A couple of years ago I was on about the delights of seeing Wolfsbane again after all these years and what's more Christmas-like than getting that same gift you wanted all over again? It certainly felt like a seasonal gift when the tour was announced back in the summer.
The first show of the tour supporting the Quireboys was the one most conveniently close, and it was fantastic to be stood close to the stage in a t-shirt that's closing on 22 years old, watching the four of them rip through some of the stupidest metal songs ever written, with a tongue in both cheeks.
Where the shows with the Wildhearts had had slightly truncated sets of barely 45 minutes, the Quireboys graciously gave them a full hour so we got a few treats that weren't aired last time around. Nobody ever gets exactly the set they want, but what I'd have picked for myself would have been pretty close to this little lot.
Steel/You Load Me Down/Loco/Totally Nude/Money To Burn/Ezy/Kathy Wilson/I Like It Hot/Temple Of Rock/Manhunt/Paint The Town Red
The pop-metal hit single that never was, I Like It Hot, is preceded by a rant about the Copenhagen climate summit being entirely Wolfsbane's doing due to their liking it hot and responsibility for global warming, which gives you something of a feel for the spectacle of fantastic nonsense that Blaze dishes out. I had a brief chat with Nico from the Blaze Bayley band while waiting for a chance to chat with the guys and buy 'the new Wolfsbane album made out of bits of old Wolfsbane albums', and just for a few minutes it was like 1989 all over again.
"I saw Wolfsbane all over again, and I liked it."
Two days later it was up the M5 for more of the same, and rather closer to their Midlands origins. This was a splendid show, and one of the highlights was Jase ushering his daughter to the side of the stage to watch the Quireboys and seeing the delights of rock n roll clearly passed on to the next generation. With the added bonus of Shakin' sneaking into the set, I think this was the best gig I caught out of this particular return of Wolfsbane's shows.
In a world where tickets come with postage fees and handling fees and all manner of administrative charges that appear to have minimal background in people actually doing anything for the money, proper value for money is something you don't see much of at events these days. But you can have too much of a good thing.
I missed the very first band, and of the next two I especially liked the cover of 3 Colours Red's Nerve Gas and a track called 'Sorry Ain't Enough'.
Touring support band Fury UK take to the stage long after I've started getting twitchy about just how late a night this looks like being, nevertheless I'm pleasantly distracted by them. There's only so much you can do with a trio, but they seem to be plentiful enough. Drummer Martin McNee sports a beard that would easily get him past the first audition for ZZ Top, and brothers Luke and Chris Appleton complete the line-up with (respectively bass, and guitar and vocals). There's no shortage of technical skillz on show, and to be honest I'd rather Chris either played and sang another song or that they got off the stage rather than the guitar showboating that closes the set. That's one way to stick in people's minds, that they want you to get off so the next lot can get on, so they can go home before tomorrow, and while it may not be their fault it does demand an extra special show to overcome it. Like 'em, yes. Want to watch *anybody* while every song makes for a further delayed trip home, definitively no. And you might guess what I'm going to say about that name - hilarious logo opportunity though the F UK abbreviation provides, if you really can't come up with a name nobody else has used and have to tag on the UK then it doesn't make me think I should be expecting vast amounts of originality and imagination in your songwriting either.
On the stroke of 23.15, it finally looks like we are ready to get the hell on with it, and with the characteristic intro - My name is Blaze Bayley... This is the Blaze Bayley Band... We. Play. METAL. - the set begins. While stood around waiting, it occurs to me that this is within touching distance of the 21st anniversary of the first time I saw Blaze laying waste to a stage. Blaze can never be accused of not trying, of not putting everything into his show, and there really is nothing quite like standing within touching distance of his intense frame as he reaches out into and around the front row, demanding attention and insisting on more hands in the air. This is British panto metal at its finest and all the more thrilling for the backing of an effortlessly capable line-up of musicians. I finally got a couple of pictures of Larry, and having done my best to get a few pictures from close range I moved backwards out of the immediate front of stage area.
Writing this several days later, I'm no longer sure of exactly which tracks were played, but Kill And Destroy and Ten Seconds were definite highlights. An hour into the set, I found myself increasingly fussy and considering leaving, which is something I've done before the end of few enough gigs that I can still count them all on one hand. As far as I'm concerned, Iron Maiden broke up my favourite band, and though I've long since got over it, listening to Blaze doing Maiden songs isn't something that's going to make me resist further the pull of the road and of my bed. If it had been two hours earlier I'd have stayed. I'm a big fan of Blaze, and I'm not complaining about him doing whatever material he chooses, and I can do nothing but applaud his commitment to metal and to playing music. But I'm also perfectly comfortable with walking out as he introduces The Clansman - some unfamiliar Maiden track that means nothing to me has no appeal. Having seen four bands for under eight quid, there's no shortage of value for money, and once again I'm going home with money in my pocket that I might have spent on merch if I'd felt the show was an absolute killer and I'd still been there at the end.
* 'Oh, let me go home' is a line from Blaze's song 'Smile Back At Death', and in itself should be explanation enough!
Ok, I'm so I'm a little over-interested in the names people pick for their musical projects. But when it's just an individual, and not one using it as an umbrella term for him/her and whoever they are collaborating with this time, it's begging to be asked why you would bother. Enter Martin Lucas, or "The Celturian", or "Martin Celturian" as he was introduced this time around.
He plays solo acoustic guitar instrumentals, in a variety of styles from straight blues to Scots reels and all manner of traditions in between, and you can easily imagine his music providing a soundtrack for whatever goes on at Blackmore's Night Towers. You can see for yourself below his stunt of playing with three capos, and while he's undoubtedly staggeringly proficient technically, er, so's Malmsteen. It's all very interesting, once, but for someone whose major interest in music is having something to sing along with, I'll leave it to you to complete this sentence on your own.
Next up were Gone Til Winter. Another non-fantastic name, and after a quick run through the few tunes they have on myspace and I'm not really moved from my initial comparison with Within Temptation. There's a certain polished dynamic about the four guys getting thirty seconds into the first tune before the female singer Talena joins them on the stage, and she certainly has a presence. There's a trace of Cher's back-of-the-throatiness at times, likewise Ann Wilson's raspiness and all layered over some rather robust prog metal. They strike a visually incongruous note, bass player with hair down to his waist, guitarist and keyboard players looking fresh out of accountancy school, and goth-lite frontwoman with a bright pink fringe in the otherwise none more black hair.
If you ever wonder whether you are in muso trouble, one way of telling is if your eye is drawn to the guitar neck, wondering if it looks a bit wide, until you realise it's a seven string. And that possibly sums them up, there's just a bit too much much really. The music is polished and proficient, but where WT have a bit of space in the vocal and keyboard melodies, GTW seem just to power through it all. There's a sense in which Talena reminds me of Sporty Spice, and much as La Chisholm is my favourite Spice Girl on account of being the only one who appears to love music for the music rather than as a means to an end, I think she's suffered at times from her choice of material. I dare say she'll lose no sleep over my opinion there, and nor should Gone Til Winter.
After a very challenging six months which have seen him lose his wife after months of illness, Blaze Bayley could be forgiven for wanting to give up. I'll be honest, but for those events, I'd have been far less likely to go to this gig, but in the circumstances showing a bit of support for the frontman of the best British metal band of all time (flame me now!) is the least I can do.
When I first saw Wolfsbane over twenty years ago, it was obvious Blaze was a man who lived for being on stage, and that hasn't changed. This must be third different incarnation of the Blaze Bayley band that I have seen, and it wipes the floor with the others. In Dave Bermudez' gurning and fist-pumping there's a frustrated frontman waiting to burst out if he ever tires of the bass. In Jay Walsh and Nico Bermudez there's a pair of guitar players who combine twin riffing with fluid solos, ably backed up by Larry's blockbuster drumming. They've been playing together for a while now, and it shows.
The setlist includes eight songs off current album The Man Who Would Not Die, the title track of which is a perfect way to launch into two hours of fist-pumping, headbanging, floor-shaking rocking. I don't believe I've ever hear Blaze's voice sounding this consistently good, and while he's always looked perfectly at home on stage, with this line-up he has every reason to be supremely confident that they all deliver, every time.
There's a touching tribute to late wife (and band manager) Debbie before the first encore track, While You Were Gone, and anyone who hadn't seen the tributes on the website would still be left in no doubt about the man behind the metal. For all it was written well before Debbie became ill, the amount of death references on the new album seems strangely anticipatory, and even if he isn't always smiling back at death, on this form Blaze and band should survive, and thrive.
* Smile Back At Death is the third track on the album The Man Who Would Not Die
A leisurely start saw me delayed by the roadworks on the M1, but happily not by the expected ranks of fans of the futility circuits at Silverstone. With a small amount of navigational difficulty, I parked up under queenie's castle at Windsor and got on the first train to Twickenham, which gradually filled up with people in leather jackets and Iron Maiden shirts as we got closer.
I'm not a huge fan of Maiden, and I guess I think of them as the NWOBHM Beatles, a benchmark for their genre, but my feelings are coloured rather more by them breaking up Wolfsbane when Bruce had a few years off from Maiden. I'd liken it to having your childhood sweetheart run off with some guy that's always in your local pub, a guy whom you can't avoid even though he's not really a mate of yours. Even though last year's handful of gigs were the first Wolfsbane shows in thirteen years, there are still only three or possibly four acts I've seen more times than Wolfsbane. I never listened to Maiden with Blaze singing because I just couldn't face it, and while I last saw Maiden with Bruce back in the fold a few years ago, I suspect that without the recent Wolfsbane shows I might not have bothered with this one.
With the benefit of non-wasted years in the meantime, I can understand why it was an opportunity Blaze couldn't turn down, and I don't blame him for it, but all the same it isn't quite water fully under that bridge. Blaze's new album is great, btw!
People, people everywhere meant I didn't make it inside the stadium for Lauren Harris' set, but there was a sharp contrast between this and the Springsteen show that I've not got round to coming back to. Where the Springsteen show was characterised by unfriendly and unhelpful stewarding and general stupidity, the Twickenham area police who had closed off the roads, and the staff around the stadium couldn't have been more helpful. Even if the guy who searched my bag on entry wasn't quite sure what to make of my make up bag.
Within Temptation bring to mind Julianne Regan fronting Europe around the thunderous Start From The Dark album - great high register female vocals and the sort of muscular euro-rock-with-keyboards that gets my toes tapping. Good start.
Avenged Sevenfold benefit from a guitarist looking like Nicky Wire auditioning for Mötley Crüe, but for the most part it's generic shouty plod metal that doesn't get me excited. The singer gains my respect for being sensitive to people having difficulties in the heaving crowd, stopping the song and directing security, but ultimately there's nothing there I'm desperate to listen to again.
Policing fifty thousand people is always going to be asking a lot, and the vain attempts of the orange shirted response teams were mildly amusing for all of ten seconds. The amount of plastic bottles in the air around Avenged Sevenfold was visible enough that people were trying to take pictures of it, but people who can afford more than sixty quid including parasite fees are for the most part plenty old enough to know better than to be chucking nearly full bottles of beer over everyone that their pisspoor aim can reach. I was really bored of the spectacle by the time I saw the third person get smacked in the back of the head by a bottle, and while my pictures show you I was close enough to see the stage clearly, I'm old enough to know that what suits me best is maintaining my own personal space and staying away from most of the crowd action as much as I can.
Churchill's speech came on the screen, Aces High roared out of the speakers, and the place erupted. Two Minutes To Midnight held the same level of excitement before it dipped for Revelations. First of several costume changes saw Bruce in red waving his flag about for The Trooper, then Wasted Years and Number Of The Beast rounded off the first half dozen songs. Couldn't ask for much more, though Revelations and the full twelve minute Rime Of The Ancient Mariner could perhaps be replaced by five other songs I'd rather hear, and without breaking the momentum of the set.
Powerslave sees Bruce in a face mask that looks like an accident in a fascinator factory - check it out on flickr if you don't believe me - Heaven Can Wait and Run to The Hills are majestic in their uptempo galloping Maidenness, before Fear Of The Dark and Iron Maiden bring the main set to a close. Moonchild, The Clairvoyant and a closing Hallowed Be Thy Name mean we've used up a fair few quid's worth of pyro, Eddie's lurched forwards in his bandages, and it's 10.20pm and time to go home.
I'm still pleased to have seen a show based around material from that era, and there's no doubt they've put a lot of effort and money into the show. On the way back to the station the police again had everything under control and did a great job. It's interesting to note that the Springsteen show had an awful lot less disruption among the crowd, and even though I rapidly run out of patience with that sort of thing, I still enjoyed the Maiden gig a hell of a lot more. And home just before 2.30am wasn't a bad result either.
Here's Steve, but there's plenty more on flickr.
It's a refreshing change to be home from a gig without hours of driving being necessary.
Metal done solo acoustic is something that it would be easy to get wrong. especially when your stock in trade is big swooping, almost operatic vocals. Blaze Bayley's got more front than Chesil Beach, and more cheesy lines than a Butlin's redcoat - add those to a fistful of tunes and you get a quality night's entertainment.
Which would be plenty enough fun on its own, so it was a huge surprise to run into two people that I certainly wouldn't have expected to see there. Seems I'm not the only one to keep my own counsel, though I'm assured it's more my faulty radar that means I didn't spot the rocker in someone!
Having been an internet news story in my own right in the last week, albeit as a minor result of the way some websites aggregate and compile info about what else is going on on the web, I'm now amused to death to find myself featured in another story that is actually reported as news, of the local interest variety. But the funniest thing is how the bit that is claimed to be me actually isn't me at all.
After a short break, posting resumes with the news that I'm pleased to be back home to start another football season consisting of about two weeks of hope, and eight months of desperation. There's something about being back in my own bed that's pretty unbeatable, but there's another thing to look forward to and that's working through the autumn touring schedules.
The last few years seem to have proven that barring death, almost every band comes back together sooner or later, and often in addition to or despite members moving on to other, bigger and/or better things. Even Robert Plant was recently seen explaining how Roger Daltrey keeps asking him 'why don't you give them what they want?' so the reunion bug really does get absolutely everywhere.
Nevertheless, it's a matter of incredible excitement and glee to find myself looking forward to another unexpected reformation delight, namely that the headline slot of Blaze Bayley at Tamworth Rock Of Ages Festival is to be supplemented by a reunion set by the mighty Wolfsbane.
It's not for no reason that my HMS card is one of the few items that remains in my wallet all the time, and it's not like there was much of a chance to say a proper goodbye after somebody legged it to join Maiden either. Even though I've run into Jeff a few times over the years, and heard some work Jase's been part of, there's some unfinished business, and that's without the mouth-watering prospect that they might like each other enough to want to do some more. Never say never.
Chances of my limited readership here being familiar with Wolfsbane are on the low side, but I can safely say there is no other band on earth I would rather see reform unless the current rules on death and resurrection are radically changed. And I'm utterly thrilled that once again, we're gonna paint the town red.
Two days later it was up the M5 for more of the same, and rather closer to their Midlands origins. This was a splendid show, and one of the highlights was Jase ushering his daughter to the side of the stage to watch the Quireboys and seeing the delights of rock n roll clearly passed on to the next generation. With the added bonus of Shakin' sneaking into the set, I think this was the best gig I caught out of this particular return of Wolfsbane's shows.
If you ever wonder whether you are in muso trouble, one way of telling is if your eye is drawn to the guitar neck, wondering if it looks a bit wide, until you realise it's a seven string. And that possibly sums them up, there's just a bit too much much really. The music is polished and proficient, but where WT have a bit of space in the vocal and keyboard melodies, GTW seem just to power through it all. There's a sense in which Talena reminds me of Sporty Spice, and much as La Chisholm is my favourite Spice Girl on account of being the only one who appears to love music for the music rather than as a means to an end, I think she's suffered at times from her choice of material. I dare say she'll lose no sleep over my opinion there, and nor should Gone Til Winter.
After a very challenging six months which have seen him lose his wife after months of illness, Blaze Bayley could be forgiven for wanting to give up. I'll be honest, but for those events, I'd have been far less likely to go to this gig, but in the circumstances showing a bit of support for the frontman of the best British metal band of all time (flame me now!) is the least I can do.
When I first saw Wolfsbane over twenty years ago, it was obvious Blaze was a man who lived for being on stage, and that hasn't changed. This must be third different incarnation of the Blaze Bayley band that I have seen, and it wipes the floor with the others. In Dave Bermudez' gurning and fist-pumping there's a frustrated frontman waiting to burst out if he ever tires of the bass. In Jay Walsh and Nico Bermudez there's a pair of guitar players who combine twin riffing with fluid solos, ably backed up by Larry's blockbuster drumming. They've been playing together for a while now, and it shows.
The setlist includes eight songs off current album The Man Who Would Not Die, the title track of which is a perfect way to launch into two hours of fist-pumping, headbanging, floor-shaking rocking. I don't believe I've ever hear Blaze's voice sounding this consistently good, and while he's always looked perfectly at home on stage, with this line-up he has every reason to be supremely confident that they all deliver, every time.
There's a touching tribute to late wife (and band manager) Debbie before the first encore track, While You Were Gone, and anyone who hadn't seen the tributes on the website would still be left in no doubt about the man behind the metal. For all it was written well before Debbie became ill, the amount of death references on the new album seems strangely anticipatory, and even if he isn't always smiling back at death, on this form Blaze and band should survive, and thrive.
* Smile Back At Death is the third track on the album The Man Who Would Not Die
