RIP The Prince Of Darkness

 I heard late last night that the legendary Ozzy Osbourne had sadly passed away. The Black Sabbath frontman had been ill for some time, so this wasn't a huge surprise, but was still upsetting. Ozzy was a larger than life character, as famous for his offstage antics, hell-raising reputation and reality TV show as for his rock 'n' roll performances. He was, however, a fine singer, a charismatic frontman and an iconic figure in rock.

Sabbath themselves were, of course, hugely influential and credited by many as the creators of the Heavy Metal genre. Ozzy left Sabbath for a while and had a very successful solo career, especially in America where they took the self-styled Prince Of Darkness to their hearts... when he wasn't causing controversy by biting the heads off live bats and suchlike. Allegedly. 

Sabbath recently played a huge, final gig in their hometown of Birmingham, supported by the likes of Metallica and Slayer - bands who owed a massive debt to Sabbath and Ozzy - and raised £140 million for local hospitals and for Parkinson's research. What a fitting, selfless end to the career of an iconic, irreplaceable character.

RIP John Michael ( "Ozzy" ) Osbourne ( 3rd December 1948 - 22 July 2025 )

Recent-ish gigs: Snow Patrol, The Script & St Vincent

Statistics! Get yer gig statistics here! Two weeks, three gigs, two venues, five friends, four free tickets ( the best kind of tickets ). Sarah and I had a short breather after the spectacular Pulp gig in Glasgow, then we were back to the gigging life. Two shows we'd planned and one out of the blue, all cracking gigs.

First up was the unexpected one. I got a message on a random Tuesday afternoon that a friend of Sophie's had spare tickets to Snow Patrol at Westonbirt Arboretum that night, and would we like to go? I'd seen SP way back in 2004 at the V Festival ( who remembers that? ) and hadn't been overly impressed, but I knew that Sarah really likes them so obviously we said yes. A quick rush home after work, a bit of a faff with the tickets, and then we were racing ( kind of ) up into the Cotswolds to the leafy environs of Tetbury. And then we slooooooooooooowed down as we hit some humongous traffic, and crawled the last mile or so to the venue. As a result, we missed both support bands, but still managed to get into the Arboretum with time enough to spare to see the headliners.

Nestled amongst the beautiful trees, the main arena of the venue reminded me very much of the Wychwood Festival - a family-friendly affair with various food outlets around the perimeter and ( far too bloody many ) camping chairs as far as the eye could see. We wormed our way into the heart of the crowd, to paraphrase Magazine ( or slightly to the right of the stage to be accurate ), and then it was time for Gary Lightbody and friends to bring us their Celtic soft-indie-rock. They kicked off with probably their liveliest song, Take Back the City, all angular guitars and whoa-whoa-whoa hooks, making quite a confident entrance. More mellow singalong indie followed in the form of Chocolate and I began to think I'd been too harsh on Snow Patrol back in the day. Sarah says I've probably mellowed with age, but I'm not so sure. To be honest, lots of music sounds better when played live, adding another dimension, and I'm happy to see most bands and give them a go. Except Tom Jones, obviously.

Lightbody was a friendly, upbeat frontman with a definite case of what Dylan Moran would call "Irish hair" and a laid-back style of patter. He admitted: "We're going to play some old songs and some new songs tonight, but don't panic - you'll know a lot of them. And if you don't know the next one, we're fooked..." The next song being, of course, epic indie torch song Run - which everybody knew and we all sang along to. Which was nice.

While not the most visually dynamic of bands ( they just get on with it and play the songs, which is fine ), Snow Patrol's screens displayed some cool images to counterpoint the music, especially the below fiery trees which were certainly appropriate. I mean, the event was called Forest Live after all. And the band's new album is called The Forest Is The Path. It all ties together really.

After Shut Your Eyes and Open Your Eyes ( will you make up your mind, Gary? ) and an epic Crack The Shutters, we were into the home straight with the even-more-epic Chasing Cars, the emotional highlight of the evening, all the crowd singing and swaying along as one. You could make the case that Snow Patrol are very derivative - a bit of U2 here, a lot of Coldplay there, even a dash of Big Country - but they're adept at making this stuff sound their own and can definitely engage an audience. Lightbody himself has a less-is-more, soulful vocal style, touched with his NI inflections, and a cheeky grin when bounding around the stage with his bandmates. The main set finished with You're All I Have, probably the rockiest song they've got and a fine, surging anthem. They came back out for a couple of encores, finishing with the windswept Just Say Yes, a hymn to positivity which had us all bouncing up and down on the grass: "Show me a garden that's bursting into life" and, yes, we did.

So, actually, a great set and I really enjoyed it. Surprisingly. And Sarah was very happy to have finally seen Snow Patrol. All that was left was to grab an overpriced but pretty decent hotdog and then sit and wait for the interminable queues to die down then head for home then get back at 1am then go to sleep for about 4 1/2 hours then go to work. Phew!

And then, five days later, we were back at Forest Live again for another band from the Emerald Isle, in this case the Republic's premier pop purveyors The Script. Not that I'd really appreciated who they were prior to this. Our good friends Kevin and Lynn had surprised me a few months ago by saying they'd bought tickets for a gig and we were all going. Apart from taking Kev to see Dexy's many years ago, we'd never been to see bands with them before, so it sounded like good fun. Kev then revealed it was... The Script!!! ( Like that, after an imaginary drumroll. ) I must have looked non-plussed, not really knowing who that was, so Kev said "You know, their singer was a judge on The Voice?" Nope, don't watch stuff like that. The poor bloke must have been disappointed at my reaction, ungrateful git that I am, but I said we'd be happy to give it a go. Especially because the tickets were a gift lol. ( I'm not really as mercenary as that... or am I? ) I've known Kev since I was 5-years old, so all this was in good humour.

We got to the Arboretum earlier this time, so there was less queueing and Kev's cheeky parking skills meant we were handy for the exit for later. And then in we went. After some food, drink and chat we caught the support act, Tom Walker. To be honest, I didn't pay him much attention. His singer-songwriter vibes and impressive voice & beard were fine, but it was all a bit too bland and mainstream for me. He's obviously talented but not my cup of rosy lee. We made our way down to the front ( well, as close as the others wanted to go ) and, after a slight disagreement with a lady in a camping chair who thought she owned the field, it was time for the headliners.

The Script came on to some wild applause and cheering from the surprisingly all-ages crowd, and some polite clapping from us non-fans. They set out their stall with their first song, the piano-led soft rock of Superheroes, and proceeded to win over the crowd, and even us newbies. Although their music is more mainstream ( there's that word again! ) than the stuff I'd usually listen to, it was certainly impressive with its uplifting, communal spirit and catchy ( hey, it's pop! ) choruses. Danny O'Donoghue ( he used to be on The Voice, you know ) was a hugely entertaining frontman - energetic, positive and talkative, with a very strong voice and an often confessional approach to interacting with the crowd.

Second song, Rain, didn't bode well for the evening, as clouds were already starting to form, but the likes of Six Degrees of Separation and mega-hit The Man Who Can't Be Moved ( even I'd heard that one! ) kept the precipitation at bay for a while with their sunny energy. The Script seem to have mastered that classic pop thing of singing very upbeat songs with often melancholy lyrics and that counterpoint really worked.

At one point, things got serious as Danny talked about their former guitarist, Mark Sheehan, who sadly died a couple of years ago. He'd been a founder member of the band and his loss obviously hit them hard. Danny also mentioned his upbringing, his dad ( If You Could See Me Now was dedicated to him ), and previous battles with alcohol abuse. This confessional side to the show was a very heartfelt flipside to the glitzier, showbiz aspects of the performance. Meanwhile, the light entertainment side of the band came out as Danny plucked a girl from the crowd for her Dancing In The Dark moment and sat her down by his side at the piano. He asked her to play one, final, note on the piano at the end of a song, and then danced around the stage with her. She was clearly in seventh heaven, while other girls in the audience could be seen to seethe with envy. The Script finished the set with singalong anthem For The First Time, the rain now properly coming down, but we were having a great time so it didn't really matter. 

And talking of singalongs, the encores of Breakeven and Hall of Fame had the whole field bellowing out the words and dancing in the rain, and were a poptastic pair of songs to conclude the evening. It had been a fun night with some great friends and the musical accompaniment had been much more enjoyable than I'd expected. We got out of the venue amazingly quickly, due to Kev's previously-mentioned parking strategy, and headed for home. Sarah and I both had the next day off work, so had plenty of time to chill out, whereas Kevin and Lynn were up at 7 am the next day to catch a flight to Jamaica - no rest for the wicked.

A very different gig next: the incomparable St Vincent at the O2 Institute in Birmingham...

I'd missed St Vincent when she last stopped in the UK ( two sold out gigs last year ) so, when I heard she was playing some additional dates on her All Born Screaming tour, I jumped at the chance to secure some tickets. I persuaded my good friend Tom to come along too. We'd previously seen Annie Clark aka St Vincent in a swelteringly-hot Oxford O2 three years ago almost to the day and it had been a revelation - one of the loudest, sweatiest, funkiest ( is that a word? ) gigs I'd ever experienced. Could she do it again? Let's find out...

Tom very kindly drove us up to Brum and, after a pretty easy journey, we parked at the Bull Ring and made our way to the O2 Institute. Situated on the grimier edge of town, it's a venue that's out on a limb ( opposite a coach station and a large derelict area ) but inside reveals itself to be a lovely old theatre. Very similar in fact to the Manchester Apollo, although not as large. I'd seen The Dandy Warhols there a few years back but had kind of forgotten it. We grabbed a quick Subway and ate by the kerbside like a pair of urchins, then went inside to catch support act Cult Of Venus - not an actual cult, you'll be glad to hear. Actually, this was a one-woman act in the form of a mysterious, unnamed singer and multi-instrumentalist ( seriously, try and Google her... ) who built up songs from triggered samples and drumbeats and then played guitar and keyboards over top. ( A bit like Ed Sheeran, then... but luckily not in any other way. ) Her music had a pleasingly retro '80-style vibe, while her vocals often had a hint of Country and she could certainly hit some impressively long notes. ( Funnily enough, Tom and I had been talking about Country on the journey - he's a real fan. ) Cult Of Venus definitely made a big impression on the audience ( one of the best reactions I've seen to a support act ) and songs like Sinner and Algorithm mark her out as one to watch. 

St Vincent and her band then came out onto the stage and the crowd lost their shit, as I believe da yoof would say. Starting with the slowly building Reckless, they showed us just how intense and loud the set was going to be. After the funk and '70s rock of the Daddy's Home album, the material from All Born Screaming is a lot more abrasive and gutsy, and this band played like their lives depended on it. I was particularly glad to see ace guitarist Jason Falkner and the keyboard player ( Rachel? I think? ) from the previous iteration of Annie's band were back and were kicking all kinds of arse.

Annie then dipped back into the Masseduction era with two of her sleek, robo-pop classics - Fear The Future and Los Ageless - now retooled for this grungier sound. And they were gigantic. For most of the set she was wielding her guitar like a sonic meat-cleaver, chopping out the heavy, heavy sounds and indulging in some tongue-in-cheek guitar duels with a clearly delighted Falkner. Broken Man was, if anything, even heavier with St Vincent throwing herself and her guitar around the stage, chasing down the soundwaves. As before, her performance was theatrical, physical and playful, including some of her being-held-up-above-the-crowd moves ( see above ) and speaker-stack-climbing ( see above above ) - leading Tom to say "I think she's possessed". We decided it was our job, as an audience, to help exorcise her, if only for one night.

Pay Your Way In Pain, Flea and Big Time Nothing were jerky, funky treats, while a gorgeous New York showcased Annie's silky vocals which often got buried in the sonic overload. She addressed the current state of the world in general, and America in particular, in a surprisingly positive way: 

"You know, I have a lot of hope. I do. I think we're going to be alright. And you know why? Because we take care of each other." Let's hope so.

This whole show was intense, extreme and noisy, but still thrilling and joyful - the audience were wild for it throughout and you could tell St Vincent and her band were vibing off the crowd's energy, feeding it back and looping it around. I honestly think she's become one of my all-time favourite performers... and this after only seeing two of her gigs. Annie's really that special.

The main set finished with All Born Screaming itself, the band all singing the oh so melancholy chorus ( melanchorus? ) like angels, not demons.

The evening concluded in a similar vein to the Pulp gig - a hushed postscript - with a beautiful, lowkey rendition of Candy Darling, St Vincent's hymn to loners, lovers and losers everywhere. It was sublime.

So, hopefully, that was everyone's demons exorcised... just for one night at least.

The Kelpies

 On our recent road trip around Bonnie Scotland we stopped off at Falkirk to see the awe-inspiring Kelpies. Situated in The Helix, a former industrial area which is now a lovely eco-park, The Kelpies are two 30m-high steel sculptures of horse heads. These incredible pieces of art were created by artist Andy Scott, and represent the industrial heritage of the area and the workhorses who pulled canal boats along the waterways and ploughs through the fields. The beauty and scale of The Kelpies ( aka Duke and Baron ) is breath-taking and they really have to be seen in the ( horse ) flesh to be appreciated.

We spent most of the afternoon and evening there - mostly because we hadn't realised just how late the sun sets in Scotland at that time of year, and we wanted to see The Kelpies lighted up at night. It was worth the wait as they looked stunning.

We'll definitely have to visit the big 'orses again one day - they're just gorgeous.

Pulp at the OVO Hydro, Glasgow 07/06/25

"Help the aged / 'Cos one day you'll be older too / You might need someone who can pull you through"

A couple of weeks back, Sarah and I headed out on a road trip to Bonnie Scotland to see the peerless, the prestigious, the pervy pop purveyors known as Pulp. As the lyrics above foresaw, they're certainly more aged than when we first saw them way back in 1998, but then we all are. Luckily, Pulp are still utterly fantastic and still have the power to pull us through. So to speak.

When this tour was announced, I jumped at the chance to get tickets ( well, only jumping as far as my aged bones would allow etc etc ) as Pulp had been so fantastic in Manchester two years ago, and as Jarvis and co would say - we needed more. I couldn't get tickets for anywhere close but then the possibility of a Glasgow gig hoved into view and I thought why not? We've said for many years that we need to visit Scotland and this gig would give us the kick up the arse we need to head north of the border. Let the road trip commence!

After a night in the Lake District ( Penrith! ), we drove on up to Scotland The Brave and spent a couple of nights by the banks of beautiful Loch Lomond, before relocating to Glasgow for three nights for the gig, then spent a night in lovely Lancaster on the way back down. Phew! The trip was awesome in itself and well worth a future blog post. But, first the gig itself...

The OVO Hydro is a very impressive looking arena on the banks of the River Clyde, at Glasgow's former industrial area of Queen's Dock. We'd managed to get a room at a ( very ) budget hotel across the water, only about a 20-minute walk to the venue, so very handy. For once, we actually turned up well in time for the gig and made our way into the sold-out, 14,000 capacity Hydro and then up, up, UP to our precarious seats somewhere near the roof, just below the pigeons - I usually wouldn't go for a seated gig, but this was all I could get and, hey, it's Pulp.

A little later than the stated 8pm, a disembodied voice told us that this was an evening we would never forget, an encore, because we deserve more... then the band ( plus string section and extra musicians ) filed out onto the stage to a massive roar from the crowd - well, all the band except the main man Jarvis Cocker. As the sounds of new single Spike Island boomed out, the familiar and iconic Pulp cardboard cut-outs ( as seen on the cover of Different Class ) rose from the back of the stage. But - wait! - one of those cut-outs is moving: it's Jarvis!

Spike Island and second song Grown Ups set out the stall for the new songs: memories of the past, memories of looking forward ( then ), thoughts of looking backwards ( now ), all with a wounded melancholy, however bouncy the song. These are lyrics and themes that only a mature band can properly realise, and it's a sign of how confident today's Pulp are that the first half of the set was dominated by the new material. Jarvis was in fine voice ( as good as he's ever been in my opinion ) and his wry stage persona was a delight as ever - after Grown Ups he asked if any of us want to, er, grow up? The resounding "No!" from the Glasgow crowd was surely answer enough.
 

After an admittedly less confident new song, Slow Jam ( maybe not best suited to the live situation ), the band broke into the signature synth plonks that herald Sorted for Es & Wizz and the audience went ker-azy. I think the "Ooooh!" refrain from the crowd must have been heard all over Glasgow that night. This was swiftly followed by the none-more-anthemic Disco 2000 and the party mood was now irrepressible. Again, going back to the overarching theme of Pulp's return ( well, the way I see it, anyway ) this song of kids imagining themselves meeting up in that far-distant year of 2000 AD ( not the comic ) has since become an echo of an echo as we're now meeting up in the year 2025, when 2000 is just a fast-receding memory. Makes you think, doesn't it? Or not, who am I to say?

The moody, theatrical F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E was a change of pace, if still a bugger to type out, and then Help The Aged was played for ( apparently ) the first time since 2012.... and cue the quote at the top of this post. The first time we saw Pulp ( in a leisure centre in Hereford! ), they were touring the songs from the This Is Hardcore album - their post-fame comedown - and the tracks often came across as morose, but now I think the band have come to terms with the songs and the ups and downs of their career, and these songs now sound renewed. The epic title track itself may still pack a grim punch but now feels somehow victorious - the band made it through the disillusionment of celebrity, the wilderness years and the sad loss of Steve Mackey, but they're still here. And still doing new things. 

The newie with the very un-Pulp title of Farmer's Market is a semi-fictional account of Jarvis meeting his current wife and is probably the most nakedly emotional song the band have ever put out. And not naked in the sense of afternoon liaisons and jumping out of wardrobes, as in Britpop-era Pulp, but naked as in honest and exposed, with Jarvis baring his frailties and asking "Ain't it time we started living?" It's a beautiful song, reminding me very much of Dexy's, and this was a stellar rendition.

The first half of the set ended with the glorious tones of Sunrise and then it was Intermission Time. A selection of ice creams and drinks are available in the foyer...

The second set began with the OG band members appearing in front of the curtains and delivering a gorgeous take on Something Changed. Jarvis strapped on his twelve-string ( ooh, er! ) and sang wonderfully, as the group - shorn of extra musicians - reminded us of just how special they are. After an anxiety-ridden detour into The Fear, with the creepy inflatable bastards above wobbling over the crowd, it was ( mostly ) hits all the way. Acrylic Afternoons took us back to the sleazy, cusp-of-fame pre-Britpop Pulp, singing about pulling knickers down on pink quilted eiderdowns ( you never got such lyrics from Oasis, did you? ) and then the same era's Do You Remember The First Time? made the OVO explode, as 14,000 people bellowed the lyrics back at Cocker and co.

Jarvis peered through his specs at the crowd and remarked "I look around this place and I see a lot of... Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits / raised on a diet of broken biscuits"  -  Thanks, Jarv! This ultimate outsider anthem was quickly followed by a newly-minted anthem, the Northern Soul-inspired Got To Have Love - with the augmented Pulp line-up's backing singers belting out some pitch-perfect Stax-type vocals. This was rousing, life-affirming stuff, surely one of the most danceable songs of the band's career and a joy to hear played live. After a glorious, wardrobe-jumping Babies, Jarvis said "It's time to go to the supermarket" - and, of course, that meant it was time for *the* ultimate Pulp song, the all-conquering Common People. A crowd-pleasing juggernaut of a song, it builds and builds, speeds up and up, witty and angry and endlessly singalong-able, with the most energising, er, climax - still sounding superb in this far off mid-point of the Twenties. A perfect ending to two cracking sets from the reinvigorated Sheffield songsters.

But that wasn't all, there had to be an encore. Of course. And this was a gorgeous, low-key rendition of new song A Sunset - complementing the first set's Sunrise, a beautifully restrained state-of-the-world address, trying to find some hope amongst all the chaos. Jarvis intoned "I'd like to teach the world to sing but I do not have a voice" but, of course he does, a fantastic voice. And it's also a reminder that we all have a voice and, in these crazy times, we have a duty to use that voice as best we can. What else can we do?

Even with a view from the nosebleed seats, Pulp were sublime on that warm evening in Glasgow. The old songs were magical and the new ones are instant classics. Pulp were everything we wanted and More.

Happy birthday, Jasper!

 

Our krazy kitty Jasper is 16 today! Happy birthday, you big ball of fluff and attitude - we love you!

Recent-ish gigs: The Wedding Present, The Manic Street Preachers & EMF

 

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!