After a fairly slow start to the year, the gigs are beginning to pile up. And, what a pile-up! I'm going to start in chronological order ( almost heresy for me! ), with
The Wedding Present at Stroud's semi-legendary Sub Rooms. I'd last seen "the boy Gedge" and his pals in November '24 ( who remembers that far off time before The Second Trumpocalypse? ) and I jumped at the chance to see them again so soon. But not into a swimming pool like the aforementioned singer in the poster above.
The Sub Rooms ( aka Subscription Rooms ) has become a much busier venue than it ever has been in the last couple of years, which is great for Stroud and for Gloucestershire in general. And they've sorted their sound issues out, too - I well remember having my ears absolutely shredded at a Buzzcocks gig there some years ago. The sound isn't necessarily quieter, but much more professional and less shrill, now almost on a par with Gloucester's Guildhall.
Unfortunately, we got there too late to see the support ( lone Goth guitarist Evy Frearson ), but managed to grab a good spot near the stage, surrounded by Stroud hipsters. We had a quick catch up with blogger
extraordinaire David Rose, and then it was time for Leeds' finest indie guitar-manglers, The ( also semi-legendary in their own words ) Wedding Present . They kicked off with Two For The Road, the first of four automobile-referencing songs in the set ( maybe a reaction to the joys of touring life? ), before hitting us with guitar-pop classic A Million Miles. A great start to the set.
Gedge expressed surprise that The Wedding Present had never played in Stroud in their 40 or so years as a band, and asked if Stroud was posh or rough? Replies were varied because Stroud is actually a combination of both, although one person shouted out "It's been gentrified!" ( Reader, that was me. )
The band were, as ever, on top form, playing with a concentrated velocity and precision that many bands half their ( average ) age would struggle to match. The interplay between Gedge and guitarist Rachel was a joy to see, both clearly loving playing together, and both being fantastic musicians, for all of the main man's self-deprecation. In fact, all the band were fantastic - The Wedding Present are quickly becoming ( after all this time ) one of my fave live bands. The combination of Gedge's beautifully melancholic lyrics and the sheer sonic attack of the songs is a potent brew which makes for a dynamic spectacle when the band are hammering away at their instruments as if their lives depended on it. Phew! Rock 'n' roll, eh?
Mid-way through the set, the band pulled out two of their best songs, with two of their longest titles: You Should Always Keep In Touch With Your Friends and I Am Not Going To Fall On Love With You - indie-pop perfection. Another highlight was Rachel... the song, that is ( although the real Rachel is always a highlight ) ... a particularly lovely love song. I love it. ( That's a lot of love. ) This was immediately followed by the propulsive, punk-y Flying Saucer, which prompted a mass mosh outbreak. ( Well, it was about six people but they were properly going for it. )
And the band kept up the energy levels as they hit the home stretch with such WP classics as break-up saga Nobody's Twisting Your Arm, a singalong Kennedy ( "Too much apple pie!" ) and the gorgeous, tear-jerking Favourite Dress. As ever, no encores, but a final thrash through Brassneck left everyone happy, as Gedge promised to come back to Stroud sometime in the next 40 years. That's a date. I mean, even if I'm just a head in a jar by that point, I'll get somebody to wheel my fishtank into the Sub Rooms for more Wedding Present greatness.
#Manics #Manchester #May
There I go, hash-tagging again. It's a compulsion. Anyway, early May did indeed see Sarah and me heading to Manchester to see
The Manic Street Preachers. I'd been blown away by their gig at
Cardiff Castle last year, so happily jumped on the pre-sale for their latest album, Critical Thinking, which also gave the punters first crack at 2025 tour tickets. Unfortunately, I couldn't get tix for Bristol Beacon or Wolverhampton ( the two closest venues to us ) so I went for the first of their two Manc dates - we'd had such a great time in Manchester when we saw
Pulp two years ago and were glad for the chance to Hit The North again...
We travelled up from the Shire the day before, so had a bit of time to explore the lovely city of Manchesterford ( I think that's right ) and stopped in a handy Travelodge only a 10-minute walk from the venue. And what a venue - the famous Manchester Apollo is a gorgeous Art Deco building, deceptively large on the inside, and with a sloping floor which allows people good views of the stage ( unless they're extra short like Sarah! ) - here's a quick snapshot of the well-appointed interior:
Typically for us, we missed the support band, Honeyglaze, who I'd hoped to catch ( boo! ) - maybe another time? After a bit of a wait, an industrial/dance remix of recent single Critical Thinking pounded out of the PA, and then the band appeared to mass cheers from the Manchester Massive. James Dean Bradfield said "Hello, we're the Manic Street Preachers from Wales" ( talk about stating the bleeding obvious, lol ) and they were off and running - starting with the cheerfully wistful Decline And Fall and then into old favourite Enola/Alone. Two cracking songs to set out their stall...
As the screen above the band announced "I am a relic" ( harsh but fair ) we all knew that we were in for a treat in the form of early classic La Tristesse Durera ( Scream To A Sigh ), whose wounded melancholy gave way to the poppier Brushstrokes Of Reunion from the new album, and a huge singalong for You Stole The Sun From My Heart. And it was certainly a loud audience: at times I could barely hear James over the baying of the crowd, but it all added to the communal atmosphere.
As a touring band, the Manics are a five-piece nowadays, with two additional musicians handling backup guitar and keyboards, but they slimmed down for a couple of songs, with the original trio tackling some of the late Richie Edwards' thornier songs. The crowd was back in full voice for a majestic Motorcycle Emptiness, followed by the old-but-new-to-my-ears Let Robeson Sing, and a chance for Nicky Wire to handle vocals with the full-band version of Critical Thinking. It has to be said that Nicky hasn't got the greatest singing voice, but this lacerating attack on modern attitudes certainly suits his laconic, none-more-Welsh delivery.
With the rest of the band leaving the stage ( "Don't worry, they'll be back" ), James sang a few solo, acoustic numbers, including an apparently never before attempted stripped down version of Holy Bible anthem P.C.P - James said we were lucky because we could see the torrent of lyrics on the screen behind him, while he had to remember them all. Luckily, he did a fantastic job, and his still-beautiful voice rang out around the venue, sounding every bit as powerful and compelling as back in the day.
To be honest, I thought this acoustic section, as impressive as it was, robbed the set of its momentum, but the band were back on track with a vicious Sleepflower and a heartfelt Your Love Alone Is Not Enough. During all this there was some banter between James, Nicky and the crowd about football, most of which went over my head ( like a football ha ha ), and some love given to Manchester for its place in the Manics' career - mentions of favourite Manc gigs / venues and snippets of iconic Manchester tunes from the likes of the Happy Mondays, Buzzcocks etc. Band introductions were handed out during the intro to International Blue, with Nicky touching on the plight of ageing rockers, saying James has "poetry in his voice and cortisone in his knee."
Nicky dedicated a ferocious Motown Junk to "our beautiful boy, Richey Edwards" and the set closed with the epic, and sadly permanently relevant, If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next.
It had been a wonderful gig in a very cool venue, one we'll definitely have to return to at some point. And it gave us a chance to hang out in a warm and sunny Manchester for a few days. I know we're always being told it's grim oop North but we've now had two trips to Manc land in glorious weather - the sun shines on the righteous, as they say.
Back to the Shire for the last gig in this seemingly-endless roundup of rock 'n' roll rowdiness, and Gloucester's home-grown heroes, those rave granddads E.M.F ( Ecstasy Mother Fuckers )
And back to Stroud's Sub Rooms yet again. It really is becoming, after all this time, one of my favourite venues. For once we got there at a reasonable time and met up with old friend Glenn ( of
Borrowed Time fame ) and went inside for a natter. We managed to catch support act
Scant Regard, a one-man surf-punk guitar gangster who had a very impressive line in catchy, snarly songs and gnarly instrumentals, all with a too-kool-for-school video backdrop. At one point he said "This next one is an old German folk song. I didn't write it" - and then played a twangy assault on Kraftwerk's The Model - great fun!
And speaking of fun, here's EMF! The Forest Posse were here to party like it was 1989 all over again. Again.
Like last year's gig at The Steam & Whistle in Cheltenham, this was another ( nearly ) hometown show for the rave-rock legends and was a day-glo, hands-in-the-air throwdown from minute one.
Newer songs like The Day The Music Died and Sister Sandinista fitted in effortlessly with old classics like I Believe, It's You and Lies. The crowd went nuts from the very start and Sarah, Glenn and I headed down the front of the sell-out crowd to throw shapes in the church of indie-dance. The heartfelt homage to the rave dayz, Reach For The Lasers, prompted us to get our glow-sticks out and wave them in the air like we just don't care. Frontman James Atkins again read out a list of era-defining DJS ( "Andy Weatherall! Andy Weatherall!" ) and I managed to grab a copy of the list after the gig.
The band were on top form and, without the technical difficulties of the Cheltenham gig, played an absolute blinder. My favourite song of theirs, Children, was a sweaty, crowd-pleasing highlight of the set and was a total banger.
They gave some love for their home town of Cinderford, as the town crier again put in an appearance, in full regalia, and told us they will be headlining a free festival there in July. One for the diary. Stroud itself also got a mention as they reminisced about the old venues and gigs of the '80s, such as the long-gone and infamous Marshall Rooms. Ian Dench's old band, the Doors-imitating Apple Mosaic, once won a battle of the bands there and the win was rumoured to have been a total fix. ( Or so we thought back in the day. Yes, I was there. ) Strangely enough, this didn't get a mention ( lol )
But, enough about old news: EMF today are ( here it comes ) Unbelievable! Finishing the set with
that rave classic, their inspired covers of I'm A Believer & Just Can't Get Enough, and EMF itself, the band finished on a massive ( legal ) high, and left us "sensible ravers" to pick up the pieces of an awesome night. Sarah, Glenn and I headed to the local Wetherspoons to drink tap water (!) because we were so darned hot - definitely the sign of a great gig! ( Okay, Glenn may have had a beer... )
And that's it for this typically-overdue roundup.
Next gig: Pulp in Glasgow a week from now!
