overlap

For many bands, carrying on having lost a member who was a major creative force is difficult, if not impossible. And yet every now and then, the enjoyment of making music together keeps those who are still around interested in carrying on to some degree. When I first saw Big Country, I was possibly expecting too much, and without going back to my diary to check, I'm fairly comfortable saying I thought they were great but not quite earth-shattering. They're another band I have more than one album by, and who I definitely like, but for one reason or another never became a devoted fan of. All the same, I was very much saddened by Stuart Adamson's death, and touched by another band who first toured with Big Country dedicating a song to him in their live performances at the time. A gig by Tony Butler, Bruce Watson and Mark Unpronounceablename (as those of us of a certain age and a history of Smash Hits reading will always think of him) as a trio was a very interesting prospect, and one that could have gone several different ways. Rosie Jones' support slot fits somewhere close to Carina Round's mixture of melody and screaming, with a dollop of Lily Allen's almost spoken delivery in places, and Tennessee in particular is good fun. Not something I'm going to chase hard, but I'll be interested to see how her writing develops if our paths cross in the future. Bruce in particular looks like he's having a great time, and Tony, in between taking most of the lead vocals, looks like someone who'd liven up even the dreariest party, so it's great to see people enjoying what they do to start with. Stuart is mentioned enough times that the gig is a worthy tribute without descending into an overmawkish spectacle of sentiment, and leaving it to the crowd to sing the vocal on Chance is a nice touch. The Teacher rocks like a quarryload of granite, Look Away bounces like Zebedee on a bouncy castle, the few new songs sound like they fit right in, and the final encore of In A Big Country finishes early enough for me to be on my way home by 22.15. Here's a set of their autographs, collected eighteen years ago, and my recollection of meeting them to get these was of warm and friendly, personable and approachable chaps, anything but the archetypal rock star nonsense. Given the chance, I'd recommend you check them out, and you will be in Wonderland!

Labels: Big Country, Bruce Watson, gigs, Mark Brzezicki, music, reformations, rock, Stuart Adamson, Tony Butler

Last night I saw the living legend that is Bob Dylan. Hnnnnnnnnnnnnn! Tickets said showtime was 7.30, the band came on at 7.45, were off by 9.40 and it was back out into daylight and home. It's been a very long time since I've been in a crowd that gave quite that sort of ovation to someone, and it was a cracking show. A nice hot venue meant I had two people fainting within touching distance of me, and for a guy of 65, old Bob still drives his band very hard and they were tight as hell. I'm not a particular fan, and there's sometimes a bit of novelty in going to someone I don't see all that often (seen him just the once before) so I had a great time. Tremendous - puts a lot of people a third of his age to shame!

Labels: Bob Dylan, gigs, music

There's someting about wine-powered typing that makes for a lot of fun. On friday night I went to see "Europe's Longest Standing KISS Tribute Band" - Dressed To Kill. I've seen the real KISS, and these were at least as much fun, playing for nearly two and a half hours and doing a bunch of great songs I have not listened to in ages. You can see how seriously they take their act here, feel free to stare, point and giggle til you've had enough. Now, in matters entirely unconnected with blokes old enough to know better wearing too much make up, I've been finding that some websites do not reflect what is actually in stock. On friday I was looking at a handbag again that I have been in two minds whether I really liked, but by saturday when I'd decided I did like it and went back for it, it was gone. Which makes for a few fruitless miles driven. In between enjoying the fruits of my most recent make up shopping, I am unable to be too bothered about shops' stocking policies, and remain tempted by the idea of shopping on those websites which promised more than their shops could deliver. In the global scheme of things, it's no big deal.

Labels: Dressed To Kill, gigs, KISS, make up, music, rock

There's something about the sneak preview value of quiet acoustic gigs where new material is being tried out that elevates them above and beyond higher profile shows. Whether it's getting to hear a version of a work in progress that subsequently vanishes without a trace, or finding how something has been updated, it's one of the few ways of getting that little bit closer to what lurks in the near future.

And so it was on tuesday evening that I left work a little early to drive to another town I haven't visited in many years, find an unfamiliar but remarkable little venue and enjoy the company of a handful of friends of mine along with a number of old songs dusted off anew, and a few new songs being aired.

Like the first show on any tour when there is no clear idea of exactly what to expect, this was a great show and I'm really glad I went. Despite the drive and the late night. Here's to next time!

Labels: gigs, Miles Hunt, music

In the early hours of this morning I got back from the Big City, having seen the triumphant return of My Life Story to the stage, and enjoyed the experience of cycling and drving in the capital's traffic; it has been a very long time since I drove inside the North Circular, and I won't be upset if the next time is as long away again. I'm no stranger to riding in traffic, and it doesn't hugely bother me, but driver behaviour where the average motor speed is 6mph is unsurprisingly desperate - the chances taken, the driving through red lights at will, the forcing oneself out into static traffic with no regard to impeding all other traffic and bringing everything to a halt is staggeringly widespread. That gridlock is not a daily occurrence can only be down to the patient few. As a one-off it was an amusing and educational diversion, but I'm at a loss to understand how anyone can live with that on a daily basis. Especially when alternative options exist that make this sort of sight a regular alternative to the back end of the non-moving car in front.

Labels: gigs, music, My Life Story, pop

Last night I went to see the wholesome rock n roll experience that is Hayseed Dixie. To varying degrees I enjoy most of the bands and songs they've covered in their unmistakeable way, but I have to say just how much fun it was - they may be accused of being a band with only one trick but if so it's a trick they do remarkably well and with a great deal of spirit. And from a slightly longer perspective, this is something I have been threatening to do for a little while and this is where the countdown starts. Ok, there are one or two anomalies, both in terms of what is and isn't included and exactly where it starts, but to all intents and purposes last night was my 493rd gig. At some point very early on I realised that I couldn't remember exactly who I'd seen where and when, and I pieced together a list that I've found it easy to continue over the years. It's safe to say I'm glad I started the list when I did. Now, how's your head for statistics?

Labels: gigs, Hayseed Dixie, music

I'm led to believe that 'But you saw them last night, why do you need to go again tonight?' is a familiar domestic refrain in some parts, and today I have something of an answer.

Every show is slightly different and has something to make it stand out from all the others - sunday as the first night I made on this tour and a return to a city I haven't visited in a very long time, on which note more in the next week or so. Wednesday was a cracking show, in another city I've not been to in ages, and extra memorable for the unusually ambitious drive home.

Tuesday will stand out as the one where I found myself in that little bit of extra unfamiliar territory; sure, I've been on guestlists, and in soundchecks, I've been backstage and in dressing rooms, and I reckon I've got a pretty good idea how the whole thing fits together outside of the hours on the stage itself.

And if you take the four main players in the three bands on this tour, I've seen getting on for 120 performances of ten different incarnations of bands involving these people, so I know them a bit, they know me a bit but that's just a function of the amount of time we've spent in the same places, it doesn't make me any kind of special.

On tuesday night I was backstage before the doors opened, and I was pleased to find I've not lost the childish enthusiasm that stops the whole thing becoming no more than habit, and for a brief moment I touched a guitar which was later used for one song only that night, one of my favourites.

Still my guitar hero indeed!

Labels: Amsterdam, Dolittle, gigs, music, The Wonder Stuff

Nobody would be fooled were I not to post this, so the bare facts are as follows: left Manchester at 11pm, passed midnight giggling at a rather poor attempt at intimidatory and aggressive driving just south of Stoke, at 1 am I was singing along with MC Solaar and after three and half hours and 190 miles, I stepped out of my car at home.

There will be a post or several to follow, but at a time when that doesn't stand between me and my bed. It was a good night though!

Labels: Amsterdam, Dolittle, gigs, music, The Wonder Stuff

There's nothing quite like the first show of a tour. Even if in the web-enabled age, news is reported before it's finished happening, and the surprises tend to lose a little something in the process, but despite having a good idea what to expect, it's always nice to be reminded why dusting down a few familiar old songs was going to be a good idea.

Great to see a few friends of mine, and two of my favourite bands, and with the third one joining the tour in a couple of days, throat lurgy willing, I'm looking forward to the next couple of weeks. But in the meantime, it's bedtime - all rock and no sleep makes too many broken cliches turn into a mumbling mess, and I have to be at work in not many hours.

Labels: Amsterdam, gigs, music, The Wonder Stuff

I've taken the advantage of being off sick to spend some of this afternoon on my frequently threatened but rarely attempted plan of going through all of my clothes and finding out exactly what I've got. What you see below is a poorly lit picture of most of my t-shirts, though crucially with a standard size mug for scale. That pile comprises the better part of eighty band t-shirts and twenty t-shirts either representing my football team or sporting events I've participated in. That's not such a surprise as I knew I had roughly that many, but what's less expected is just how many that looks like when you put them all together!

Labels: music, t-shirts

Had an enjoyable couple of days in London, and saw one of my favourite bands do a very good show that for me marks the point where the current line-up has clearly crossed the boundary between a bunch of people on the same stage to looking like a cohesive unit that works together as one. You may not have heard of Amsterdam, but if you like literate pop music with a bit of a swagger, vibrancy and energy then I’ll be happy to point you in the right direction. In a more seasonal mood I found myself taking the ice at Alexandra Palace; there was a time in my life when I was skating at least once a week, and I know that several new years arrived while I was on ice. I haven’t skated regularly for many years, but it was mildly reassuring to find that even on ropey hire skates I hadn’t completely lost the knack. Had more than my share of near tumbles, but I learnt to keep my balance on skates a whopping twenty-something years ago and though I may indeed have wobbled, I didn’t go down. Had a lovely time, though it's very unfortunate to say the least that someone turns out to have got a broken bone out of the experience, and the various delights of visiting that grand building and the great skyline views from the top of that hill were a bonus I hadn’t been counting on. As befits the party season, I manufactured the opportunity to demonstrate my improved shopping skills with a suitably party type outfit and got a bit of assistance and sensible advice regarding my adventures in artificial hair. And for what’s changed on that whole front in terms of a move from a thoroughly hidden subject to something that’s now a lot more like just one of many things I talk about with some of my friends, I’m pleased to say there’s been a lot of progress. And I appreciate the parts others have played in that. So that and a number of emptied glasses pretty much accounts for my trip to London itself, though I should have known better than to think that meant the excitement was over...

Labels: Amsterdam, gigs, music

Nanci Griffith reckons people are born knowing Tom Paxton songs, and I think the same is probably true of Jimmy Webb. There's almost a Dylan-esque 'oh shit, that was one of his too' thing when you hear him tell about writing 'Up, Up and Away' when he was nineteen and getting chucked out of music college. He says himself he's at that stage in the tour where his voice not entirely at its 100% rested best, and it does show when he makes up for not hitting the higher notes with a slightly strained approximation of them - as with Dylan, perhaps the songwriting is sometimes stronger than the vocal talent. That said, he's happy enough to admit to being 59 years of age, and he's packed more than one lifetime's living into those 59 years, and there's plenty of evidence of that in the many celebrity friends about whom he tells stories over the course of the evening. I learnt a couple of things about how I relate to music too, largely due to JW accompanying himself on the piano only. I can recognise technical expertise when I hear it, even if it's not what I want out of something, and because there's only him and his piano, JW shows off his ability to work his way round the keys, almost bordering on what sounds to me like jazz improv at times. And it's only when he starts picking out the vocal melody line on the piano in both Wichita Lineman and MacArthur Park that I start to understand how something works for me. My ear is so unsophisticated and untrained, that I haven't got more than than the vaguest idea of how a chord or a chord progression works. I mean, if I stop and think about it then I can find its place in the workings of a song, but since I'm listening primarily to melody lines that float on top of everything rather than the underlying structure, it's no surprise that it never really hits me in the ear, and in the gut. For a good example of what really gets my juices flowing, you need look no further than Tony Peluso's guitar solo in the Carpenters' 'Goodbye To Love' - I can only describe it as some sort of melodic sweetspot, probably over-developed by listening to too much Everly Brothers harmony vocals and the like as a kid! Never too old to learn, so as with salsa teaching me to hear drums better, I've got something other than the songs to thank Jimmy Webb for.

Labels: gigs, Jimmy Webb, music

Ok, so I'm biased. But Ange Dolittle remains one of the greatest frontmen you've never heard of, and I wish he hadn't got lured into the real job trap and would do a few more gigs, but that's just being selfish. Nevertheless, he's a) a great bloke and b) a tremendous singer. It's not the greatest show I've seen Dolittle (the four piece band - vocals, bass, acoustic guitar and drum machine) do, but it's always a pleasure.

Miles Hunt is an inveterate gobshite, and on this occasion the one we'd paid to see. I've concluded it's the price you pay for The Wonder Stuff currently being a going concern that shows like this bring out the sort of braindead folks who should have their tongues removed at birth.

So Miles talks a lot, tells a lot of stories, and minute for minute the song/story mix is pretty close to 50:50 - great to hear background information which gives newer songs another dimension as you get to know them, and to have gaps filled in behind songs you've lived with for years. there was more newer stuff than I'd have predicted, so even for a 3am homecoming, it was great stuff.

Friday night, well, there was a gig I could have gone to, but I spent the money on a new bin for my kitchen and some flowers, and I've just put another bottle in the recycling. Nights off have to be squeezed in somewhere.

Labels: Dolittle, gigs, Miles Hunt, music

Last night was the second time I've seen The Posies this year, but the first in a non-festival own gig situation.

They were quite outstanding in a way I can't begin to do justice to here, but to give an impression of just how far beyond the ordinary they were, it's enough to say that it's the only time I've seen Darth Vader playing air guitar this year.

* I've since been told by someone who knows what the before look was like, that my hair does appear to have become just a little lighter so I can only assume the spray that was put on prior to blow-drying it had some effect in the heat. I've never yet colour treated my hair, but the idea has recently crossed my mind for the first time, so I'm ruling nothing out!

Labels: gigs, music, The Posies

This is getting stupid now. Last night I travelled some way to watch a guy play songs to precisely two dozen people in the basement bar of a little pub in the midlands. I first came across Mick Thomas several years ago, and I've somehow missed all possibility of getting to shows he's done in the UK since. On the back of that one show, I've since tracked down most of his back catalogue as part of Weddings Parties Anything, a band with a considerable fifteen year history of musical significance down under that sadly didn't make that much of a dent round this side of the planet, from what I can gather. Yeah, it was great, and I'm glad I went but something's telling me I'm not 23 any more and getting to bed at 2am yet again on a work night is just not sustainable, and sooner or later something will have to give. An early night beckons tonight, that's for sure. * further to my last post, I've just got round to listening in full to the show I mentioned, and I'm pleased to find the subject was touched upon as part of a conversation rather than wheeled out deliberately in order to make 'entertainment'. While I would have preferred the time to write more carefully, to get my email through in about a three minute window when they only quoted from two emails in what was describe as 'an avalanche of emails' on the subject, and to have my quote followed by 'so that's kinda fascinating, isn't it?' makes me feel I've made a tiny difference. And it's always good to be reminded that even when someone doesn't share an interest, they can still be perfectly accepting of it.

Labels: gigs, Mick Thomas, music

A long week, but a good one. Though I'm not in a rush to repeat it. The Havenots - entirely new to me, Liam's voice has the plaintive mournfulness of Chris' early stuff, but Soph's harmonies sweeten it up a little bit. That's a lot of sound for two voices and an acoustic guitar. Chris Mills - it's some measure of how much time I spend watching live music to get to the show of someone who lives in Chicago, and whom I haven't seen live in just over three years, and still get recognised and personally greeted by the artist in question. In the trio set-up, everything's a little bit more rocky and despite the low numbers everyone has a great time. This is where it's at, people and songs, not cgi dragons and fireworks.

Labels: Chris Mills, gigs, music, The Havenots

Rachel Mari Kimber - seems there's a lot of female singer-songwriter with an acoustic guitar in my life this week. Took me till the last song to work out who she reminded me of - it's Beth Orton. with a little bit of the pure clarity of a Sandy Denny or Kate Wolf. Well suited for this particular support slot, songs a little bit inwards-looking without disappearing through the eye of a navel six times a verse. Roddy Frame is underrated as far as I'm concerned, but like plenty of artists, he may well be known more for the odd atypical hit single than what is truly characteristic. 90 minutes of great songs with a delicate touch, and some serious riffing on Oblivious and in a couple of other places. Despite three six-string acoustics and one twelve-string, there's still ample opportunity for gags about the tuning up process, a sizeable helping of amusing moments and interesting anecdotes about where songs came from. Add to that a fantastically clear sound* and a well-behaved crowd, and you get a great night out, and home before midnight too! * so it turned out for the best I didn't take the handbag, and not just for sonic reasons

Labels: gigs, music, Roddy Frame

I'm going to see Loudon Wainwright next week, and today I've been listening to a few things I haven't heard for a while. And I'm reminded that if there's one thing that really speaks for me, it's One Man Guy. And dirty, selfish trick or no, I like to know where I stand, and that always starts with me. But I would also say that barring that last few percent by which things can always improve, I'm really very happy with the levels of people, and friendship and intimate confidence-sharing, and soul-baring and all that stuff in my life right now, and the fact you've made it here means you're part of that to some varying degree, so thanks very much. I hope I can return the favour. I've always found it in song, but finding it in real people is so much better, and I'd be a fool not to recognise and appreciate it when I do. People will know when they see this show the kind of a guy I am They'll understand just what I stand for, and what I just can't stand They'll perceive what I believe in and what I know is true And they'll recognise I'm a one man guy, always was, through and through Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning I'm the same in the afternoon One man guy when the sun goes down, I whistle me a one man tune One man guy, one man guy, only kind of guy to be I'm a one man guy, a one man guy, and that one ma-ee-a-ee-on is me I'm a one man guy People meditate, hey, thats just great trying to find an inner you And people depend on family and friends, And other folks to pull them through I don't know why I'm a one man guy or why this is a one man show But these three cubic feet of bone and blood and meat are what I love and know. Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning I'm the same in the afternoon One man guy when the sun goes down, I whistle me a one man tune One man guy, one man guy, only kind of guy to be I'm a one man guy, a one man guy, and that one ma-ee-a-ee-on is me I'm a one man guy I'm gonna bathe and shave and dress myself and eat solo every night Unplug the phone, sleep alone, stay way out of sight Sure it's kind of crazy, yeah it's sort of sick Being your own and only is a selfish dirty trick Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning I'm the same in the afternoon One man guy when the sun goes down, I whistle me a one man tune One man guy, one man guy, only kind of guy to be I'm a one man guy, a one man guy, and that one ma-ee-a-ee-on is me I'm a one man guy

Labels: Loudon Wainwright, music