Avatar: The Way of Water and other films from 2022

I haven't posted anything about movies on here for ages so I'm going to do a quick rundown of the films I saw at the cinema last year. There were a lot of anniversary screenings of old classics in 2022, probably as a way to get bums on seats again after the empty cinemas of the bloody pandemic days, and also maybe an attempt to get Netflix-junkies off their arses. It was such a joy to get back to the cinemas again after all the uncertainties of the last few years. As Empire magazine put it, 2022 was "the year the world woke up". In the time-honoured, but pointless, tradition of TGW-S I'm going to talk about the movies I saw in reverse order, starting with the biggest and wettest blockbuster of the year:

Avatar: The Way of Water

James Cameron finally delivered his sequel to Avatar ( The Biggest Movie Of All Time!!!  etc ) and took us back to the paradise planet of Pandora, where Jake and Neytiri  - 10 years after the original story - were now raising a family and looking towards the future. Unfortunately that future included hordes of "sky-people" ( or humans as we're also known ) returning to Pandora for some payback after their previous ignominious defeat. The Sullys were forced to flee their arboreal home and head to the coast to try and join another tribe and fight off the mechanised might of the human invaders. 

As ever with Cameron movies, the plot and themes weren't much more advanced than the average Disney cartoon but... the spectacle... oh, the spectacle! Seeing this in Imax 3D was just jaw-dropping: leaps and bounds ahead of the ( still bloody impressive ) first movie, Cameron now took us underneath the seas of Pandora to find a whole new aquatic world. Properly immersive as very few 3D films actually are, this movie made the audience feel totally surrounded by all the new fauna and flora that swam, swayed and darted throughout the frame. Every inch of the screen seemed to be filled with detail, with colourful creatures, with hidden dangers. And also with emotion, as Cameron piled on the agony and joy for the Sully family, even risking the demise of a newly-introduced but engaging character. It was all very string-pulling, mainstream entertainment... but no less wonderful for that. Sarah, Sophie and I all really enjoyed the movie and completely bought into the world that seemingly bubbled around us. A lot of people have been very snobbish about Avatar but I thought it was a monumental piece of film-making, a fantastic showcase for what cinema can be, and definitely something worth getting off your arse to go and see.

The Thing ( 40th anniversary )

From 2022 we time-warped back to 1982 and John Carpenter's masterpiece of paranoia, terror and dogs whose heads split open. As we all know, 40 years ago another, more cuddly alien ruled the box office ( "ouch!" ) and Carpenter's shape-changing monster movie was mostly dismissed as being too grim and downbeat. Of course, it's now regarded as a classic and it was cool to see it on the big screen again. ( I actually saw it back in the day as part of a double-bill with another remake, Paul Schrader's Cat People. Quite a night out! ) We've seen the movie countless times but it still hasn't lost its tentacled grip, and the restored picture was sharp enough that you could see every bodily fluid and gooey substance sprayed across the screen. "Whatever it is, it's weird and pissed off."

The Lost Boys ( 35th anniversary )

Another anniversary screening, another cult classic. The Lost Boys is of course the late Joel Schumacher's camp vamp movie starring a mullet-wearing Keifer Sutherland and other lesser lights of the Brat Pack era, as well as the always-excellent Dianne Wiest. It was one of the first films Sarah and I saw together ( in 1987! ) and remains a non-guilty pleasure to this day. It's silly, cheesy fun with endlessly quotable dialogue ( "You're a goddamn, shit-sucking vampire! Wait 'til Mom finds out!" ), some seriously homoerotic undertones, and a cast that are having a ball. We went to see this on Halloween and ran into Michael Myers who actually sat about two rows behind us. ( I think he'd probably seen Halloween Ends about three times that day and fancied a break... )

Nope ( which was what I said when I saw Michael Myers coming up the escalator! )

After being hugely impressed by small-screen viewings of Jordan Peele's first two movies, Get Out and Us, I knew I had to see his next offering at the cinema, no matter what. Nope had been preceded by an enigmatic ad campaign which suggested it was a "UFO movie" but not much beyond that. It was certainly tantalising and knowing that the UK's own Daniel Kaluuya was one of the stars made the film an even more exciting prospect. So, was it a "yep" or "nope" for Nope? It was certainly a visually stunning movie, Jordan Peele making the most of every inch of the widescreen frame, with some excellent performances. Kaluuya and Keke Palmer played brother and sister partners in a business which supplies horses to Hollywood movies and really made you believe in their relationship, often fractious but always loving. The Hollywood aspect was crucial as the film had a lot to say about people's appetites for spectacle, for getting that "perfect shot", and for what happens to people on the margins of the movie business, especially people of colour. The biggest problem was the pace. The film was often deathly slow and could have done with some judicious editing and maybe a bit more action. But, what was there was often breath-taking: the eerie sight of *something* darting through clouds above a deserted valley, a literal rain of blood, a primate TV star destroying a studio set and its occupants  -  so many indelible images. I'd still say Us is Peele's most successful, most affecting movie, but I'd give a qualified "yep" to his latest. I can't wait to see what he does next.

Robocop ( 35th anniversary )

Back to 1987 again, and this time also to a near-future Detroit to meet the future of law enforcement in Paul Verhoeven's Robocop. The same director's Total Recall is one of *the* quintessential 1980s movies and, while not quite on the same insane level, Robocop is still a lot of over-the-top fun. Savagely satirical ( "I'd buy that for a dollar!" ) and simultaneously gloriously stupid, Robocop remains hugely entertaining in its gonzo, balls-to-the-wall fashion. Lashings of the old ultra-violence, weapons-grade swearing, enough flying glass to re-glaze Crystal Palace and hilariously cynical villains. Oh, the villains. Robocop is a film that's in love with its bad guys: top 1980s character actors ( Miguel Ferrer, Ronny Cox, Kurtwood Smith ) all vie to outdo each other as the meanest, nastiest hombres on the block. Scenery-chewing has never been such fun. All of which leaves the lead characters, played by Peter Weller and Nancy Allen, somewhat side-lined. Weller gives as good a performance as possible under his armour and prosthetics, trying to portray a good cop outrageously manipulated by the system into becoming a dehumanised walking weapon, but it's never really the focus of the film.

Thor: Love & Thunder

Another day, another Marvel movie. Although the young, 1970s version of me who grew up reading Marvel comics would have thought a seemingly-endless supply of movies based on those characters would be nirvana ( or Asgard ), the 2023 version of me is starting to get bored of them. Heresy, right? For the most part, no. Most of these MCU films have become so generic in terms of plot and character, and the overwhelming CGI slug-fests lose their charm after the first dozen or so. I really enjoyed Taika Waititi's last Thor thilm... sorry, "film"... Ragnarok, which was broadly spectacular, stuffed with great moments and lines, and had exceptional villains in Cate Blanchett's Hela and Tom Hiddleston's Loki. This latest adventure, while featuring a sterling performance from Natalie Portman as an arse-kicking female thunder god, suffered from a surfeit of lame, would-be-ironic humour which undercut any drama or excitement and just became irritating. Thor himself is now a parodic shadow of the original movie character and, although Chris Hemsworth's charisma just about saves it, maybe it's time for this Nordic demi-god to shuffle off to Valhalla...

Everything Everywhere All At Once

While I'm on the subject of Marvel movies, one of the better examples of this recently was Doctor Strange In The Multiverse Of Madness. This hasn't made my list because I watched it on Disney+ but it was a worthy sequel to the first Doc movie and at least went a few more interesting places, courtesy of director Sam Raimi. One thing it didn't really accomplish though was to show us a convincing multiverse, mad or otherwise. Luckily, true multiversal madness could be seen in Everything Everywhere All At Once, the latest movie from Daniels, aka directors Daniel Scheinert and Daniel Kwan. This starts off as a relatively mundane, but engrossing, story of an Asian-American family ( the legendary Michelle Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan and Stephanie Hsu ) dealing with the immigrant experience, income tax, divorce and the generation gap. But then it gets weird. Really weird. Yeoh's Evelyn is contacted by an alternate version of her husband who claims she's really a powerful warrior who must unite other versions of herself to save the multiverse. As Evelyn is forced to find her place in this new universe, and find a way to both pay her taxes and save her marriage, the film warps from absurdist comedy to all-out action thriller to a moving meditation on love and family. It's a mind-boggling, dazzling journey, quite unlike anything else I've seen for a long time. Michelle Yeoh gives the performance of her lifetime, making Evelyn a multi-faceted, living, breathing character who convinces as much as a down-trodden laundrette owner as she does as a kick-ass heroine. It's certainly refreshing to see a middle-aged Asian woman taking on such a role in a Hollywood movie, and now she's Oscar-nominated too, which is excellent news. Definitely my film of the year... but... where's the UK DVD?

The Northman

Another film I'd eagerly anticipated was Robert Eggers' follow-up to The Witch and The Lighthouse, both fine, idiosyncratic movies which made a big impression on me. Unfortunately, The Northman wasn't in their league. Eggers' Viking epic, loosely based on a legend that inspired Hamlet, was big, brash and brutal and often boring. The trailers had promised an action-packed revenge saga, but had looked cliche-ridden and I'd hoped for some twists or nuance to counteract the hackneyed situations. That didn't happen. Alexander Skarsgard rampaged his way through the film, fighting, killing, burning villages, burping and farting, but I really couldn't care about him or his quest. It all just felt hollow. The film certainly looked impressive with some beautiful cinematography, courtesy of Jarin Blaschke, but the movie was, to quote Macbeth not Hamlet, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

The Godfather ( 50th anniversary )

50 years? Crazy. Any chance to see The Godfather on the big screen has to be taken so, in this case, I drove over to Hereford to meet James and we hit the local Odeon. He'd never seen the film at the cinema before and, like I'd been before, he was blown away by just how masterful Coppolla's magnum opus looks when viewed as originally intended. The Godfather still stands as my favourite film of all time and it was great to share the movie experience with James. I wrote about my last big screen visit with the Corleone family way back in 2009 which you can read here, should you want to, of course. It's not an offer you can't refuse. Nobody's going to put a horse's head in your bed. Honest.

Overdue gig review: The Chameleons at the Gloucester Guildhall

Back in the darkening days of the year we used to call "this year" but we now call "2022" I paid a visit to my fave venue, the Gloucester Guildhall, to catch a double-bill of Epic Gothic Punk from The Chameleons and The Membranes. I'd seen The Chams ( as nobody calls them ) a few years ago, pre-Covid, and really enjoyed them, but I'd never seen The Membranes so was keen to add them to my gig list.

Sunday 11/12/22 saw an unexpected amount of snow being dumped on Gloucestershire, the first "real" snow we'd had for a few years, and it cast a doubt over the event going ahead. Luckily both bands made it to the Shire and the gig was on! I was meant to be going with my mate Glenn but his car fell foul of the falling white stuff and the resultant traffic chaos in Stroud so he unfortunately couldn't make it. We used to have a semi-serious tradition of seeing bands somewhere around our birthdays ( 10/12 for him and 14/12 for me ) and this would have been the first one in that line for a few years, but it wasn't to be. Luckily, another great gig buddy turned out for the night... all the way from Swindon ( in the snow! )... the man, the myth, the blogger: David Rose!

Typically of me, I got to the venue just before the support band started so I only had time for a quick chat with David before it was Membranes time...

I'd seen distinctively-haired Membranes frontman John Robb with his "other" band Goldblade at this very same venue some years ago and expected more of the same Punky rabble-rousing. I was surprised to find that The Mems ( as nobody calls them ) are more of a Goth band, complete with Robb's propulsive Hooky-inspired bass lines alongside washes of colourful synth tones, courtesy of a veiled Corpse Bride-like keyboard player, who also supplied some startlingly wailed backing vocals.

Apparently, the band's most recent album What Nature Gives... Nature Takes Away is based around ecological themes and the song Snow Monkey prompted Robb to ask "Are there any budding Chris Packhams in the audience? Is anybody into Punk rock and nature?" After the general lack of response I called out in the affirmative but was out-volumed ( is that a word? ) by David who was singled out by Robb as "the kind of guy who knows about snow monkeys"  -  well, of course he is. The 'Branes ( as nobody probably calls them ) were a dark treat for a snowy Winter's evening and I definitely need to see them again. ( I used to write gig reviews for John Robb's website, Louder Than War, back in the day and I often joke that he's my ex-boss. Of course, he doesn't actually know that. I did have a brief exchange with him on Twitter after the gig and he complimented me on my photos from the night. Which was nice. )

The Chameleons shuffled onto the stage with little fanfare and launched into their expansive, windswept post-Punk set. Main man Mark Burgess was more voluble than last time I saw them and frequently paused between songs to talk to the crowd, mostly about the Godawful state of the world in general and the UK in particular. He said he'd been in America for most of last year and was shocked to find on his return that this septic isle was in even worse condition than when he'd left. Luckily, there was also some excellent music on display amongst the shared anger...

The plan for this tour was to play the "What Does Anything Mean? Basically" album in its entirety but Burgess admitted this was a marketing idea from their manager and they weren't actually going to do that. Songs from that album would be played but alongside others from the band's history... and a few surprise snippets of other classics from the likes of The Beatles, Doors, Bowie etc. All the good stuff, basically.

The Chameleons are really the quintessential post-Punk / proto-Goth band, employing all the expected sonic devices of the genres. Deep, powerful vocals? Check. Pounding, rolling, tribal drumbeats? Check. Melodic basslines and tumbling, glistening guitar riffs? Check. The lyrics often look trite on paper ( lots of what I call "Doors rhymes"... you know: higher, fire, liar, desire, car tyre, barbed wire ) but Burgess' committed delivery sells them time after time, especially when sung live. As I've said before, I never heard The Chameleons back in the day and I'm surprised they didn't become a higher profile band, especially when the inferior, stereotypical likes of Fields Of The Nephilim or Balaam & The Angel ( baa-lamb? ) were big in Goth circles. Maybe it wasn't just me who never got to hear Burgess and the boys?

The stately Pleasure And Pain and the chiming, surging Perfume Garden ticked all the Goth boxes and then things got heavier and angrier with Singing Rule Britannia and a ferocious Mad Jack's Eyes, the latter referencing "mad fucking despots" of both the Russian and American persuasion. The highlight of the set for me was, as before, the absolutely epic Soul In Isolation, reminiscent of The Cure at their best, and this was quickly followed by the twisting, intricate guitar riff of Swamp Thing, the best song named after a DC Comics monster. 

For the encores the band dug deep into their back catalogue and played songs I wasn't familiar with but were still excellent. A couple of young girls behind us had been yelling for P.S. Goodbye ( as well as spilling booze down my jacket ) and were, er, extremely happy when Burgess agreed and belted out the track for them. In fact, it was good to see quite an age range at this gig, and not just sad old gits like me.

Before the band finished with a blistering I Fall, Burgess made a detour to the crowd barrier and the front rows happily bellowed along with him as he gave it some vocal welly. As a parting gift to the crowd he thanked us all for turning up, despite the weather. He went on to say that money, success and material possessions are only worth so much, but it's experiences - especially shared experiences - which are worth more than anything else, and he again thanked us for this shared experience and for supporting live music. A very powerful and heartfelt speech and a lovely ending to a fine gig, my last of 2022. As it was a "school night" there was only time for a quick post-gig chat with David then we had to split, man. Hopefully we'll catch up again soon.

Now that I'm properly back in the swing of gigging I really need to see more bands in 2023. I've already got Weyes Blood ( Bristol SWX with my good friend Tom ) and the mighty Muse ( Milton Keynes Bowl with Sarah ) booked for later in the year. Can't wait!

Oh, and if you'd like to read David's review of this gig ( being a proper blogger, unlike me, he posted it about a day later ) you can find it here :-)

Merry Christmas from The Glass Walking-Stick

 

Wishing all you lovely people in the Blog Dimension a day filled with peace, light and love. ( What do you mean, "it's half over"? )

Merry Christmas! Cheers!

Overdue gig reviews: The Mission, Robyn Hitchcock, St Vincent & A-ha

 At the height of the pandemic and the lockdowns, the things I missed most from the pre-Covid world were seeing friends, browsing in book and record shops, and going to the cinema / gigs. With the slow return to ( a kind of ) normality I've come back to all of these things except for gigs. Being in a venue packed with sweaty strangers drinking and jumping about seemed a recipe for disaster. Apart from seeing The Skids at the Gloucester Guildhall last year ( which was nerve-wracking enough ) the last two years have been a live music drought for me which has been very tough. ( Okay, I know a lot of people have suffered *much* more than this and it's inconsequential really but bear with me. ) But a while back I thought that as most people had now been triple-jabbed and we were heading out of the Winter it may be safer to do that sort of thing. I had a ticket to see EMF at The Fleece in Bristol a couple of months back, was all set to go, and then - guess what? - I caught bloody Covid! Yep, after two years of avoiding it the damn virus caught up with me and Sarah. We were both pretty rough for a couple of days with flu-like symptoms and then just generally felt tired for a while. ( So glad we've been vaccinated, it could have been a lot worse. ) Unfortunately the very last day I tested positive was the day of the EMF gig so I had to miss it. Gutted.

Aaanyway, a few weeks later my mate Glenn asked me if I wanted to go and see The Mission in Bristol  -  he'd got on the guest list for the support band, The Rose Of Avalanche. I'd never been a fan of The Mish ( or any Goth bands really, except The Cure ) but I thought it could be fun... plus, free tickets...    :-)

So, on a balmy Thursday night I went straight from work to pick up Glenn, Cliff and Pob ( don't ask ) from Pob's crack-den  flat in Stroud and we headed down the M5 to Brizzle. It felt strange but exciting to do the old, familiar route into Bristol to the O2 Academy -  even the perennially piss-scented Frogmore Street car park felt like a welcome place to walk through... whilst holding your nose. We got to the venue and Glenn ushered us in because he didn't want to miss The Rose Of Avalanche. Fair enough. But the one thing I did miss was food ( we'd planned to get something to eat on the way but didn't ) so the sound of my grumbling stomach almost drowned out the bands. Almost.

TROA ( as nobody calls them ) came across as a bunch of middle-aged blokes who work in a local branch of B&Q but like to rock out at weekends when there's no football on the telly. They made a decent sound but were lacking in chemistry or stage presence, apart from the lead guitarist who merrily pulled Rawk shapes stage-left and probably wished he was playing with the headliners. The almost-epic LA Rain was the best song in the set and its Lou-Reed-goes-Goth bite hinted at the less-mannered band they probably were once.

As the venue began to fill up we headed up to the balcony where there was a bit more space. I've always been one for getting down the front at gigs but the spectre of Covid had kind of put me off being a part of the mosh-pit ( at least up to that point ) and I was quite happy to watch the show from above, even though it meant my usually-blurry gig photos are even worse than expected. The Mission came on stage to a rabid response, instantly setting out their stall with the atmospheric intro of Beyond The Pale and, by the time they'd moved on to the windswept singalong of Hands Across The Ocean, I was hooked. I'd always thought The Mish were a bit corny but the unabashed, strictly non-ironic melodrama of their songs was actually irresistible and I soon realised that I'd been too snobbish in my assessment of their abilities. It was Epic Goth Rock and it was huge fun.

They brought out the big guns as Butterfly On A Wheel, Wasteland and Deliverance finished the main set. Returning for some deep-dive encore songs for the faithful, The Mission finished with a huge singalong of Tower Of Strength ( of course ) and I shouldn't think a single black-clad urban cowboy or girl left the venue disappointed. As a proper return to gigs this had been a fun experiment, far more enjoyable than I'd expected, and made me think that, yes, I could get back to this stuff...

Looking at the above photo you may be thinking "Another gig, another old guy in a flowery shirt" and you may well be right... except this old ( not that old ) guy was the legendary Robyn Hitchcock. Yep, The Man Who Invented Himself was back in the UK for a brief tour and  -  hooray!  -  was playing my home town of Gloucester. And the venue was my home-from-home, the Guildhall Arts Centre. All in all, a no-brainer, a must-see. The last time I had seen Robyn was way back in the PPE ( Pre-Pandemic Era ) year of 2015 at Bristol's Fleece, the review of which can be perused here ( should you wish to of course ) so it was great to catch him again. After heading into the main hall and discovering it was, unusually, a seated event ( the only seated gig I'd seen there before was a very subdued Lambchop performance many, many years ago ) I sat myself down to watch support act, Jessica Lee Morgan...

JLM captivated the audience with some wonderfully melodic acoustic-indie-folk tunes and a warm, conversational onstage persona. Assisted by her partner, Christian Thomas, on bass and occasional vocals, she sang some impressively affecting songs of love and female empowerment in her clear, richly-toned voice, and told some surprisingly confessional stories of the music business, mental health and her experiences of lockdown. Definitely worth seeking her out again.

And then it was time for The Man With The Lightbulb Head himself, Mr. Robyn Rowan Hitchcock.

Robyn was on fine, mischievous form  -  slightly more chatty than the last time I'd seen him and clearly happy to be touring in the UK again. Happily, he started the set with two of my favourite songs, the lovely Raymond Chandler Evening ( from the excellent Element Of Light album ) and the macabrely* funny My Wife And My Dead Wife ( "Am I the only one that sees her?" ), then went straight into the bracing Soft Boys classic Only The Stones Remain. ( Non ) hit after ( non ) hit! Great stuff!

( *Is "macabrely" a word? It is now. )

Things went alternately dark ( The Abyss ) and nostalgic ( I Often Dream Of Trains ) and Robyn even got his old harmonica out for a blast  -  referencing Dylan as ever, Robyn remarked that His Bobness always sounded "ineffably sexy" when playing said mouth instrument, "which is where we differ." For the second half of the set, Robyn's old band mate from The Egyptians, Morris Windsor joined him on stage for a few songs, including a spine-tingling take on The Lizard. ( Apparently Morris lives in Gloucester so there was some banter about this particular corner of the West Country, especially about the legendary Wall's Ice Cream factory and the quality of choc ices over the years. ) Jessica and Christian also joined in for the triumphant last two songs, Brenda's Iron Sledge ( of course! ) and Queen Of Eyes. I spoke to JLM at the merchandise stall after the gig and asked her how much fun it was to play those tunes  -  she confirmed it was a blast, and then she flogged me her CD, Forthright ..."because it's my fourth, right?" Well, I couldn't say no because her music's great and she's just charming. I also bought Somewhere Apart, a collection of Hitchcock's lyrics, so, a great night all round.

Moving on to July now, and what is probably going to be my Gig Of The Year ( I really can't see anyone else beating it )  -  the amazing St Vincent at the Oxford O2 Academy!!! ( !!! )

When I first heard St Vincent was touring I thought it would be great to see her but none of the venues seemed affordable or practical for me, but then a low-key warm up to the tour was added in Oxford  -  result! I contacted my mate Tom who was equally keen to head to the city of dreaming spires for some '70s-inflected art pop. I picked him up outside some public toilets ( steady! ) in Burford and we headed to Oxford, had a quick drink in a local Bohemian watering-hole then, after dealing with an annoying ticket mix-up found ourselves in the steaming-hot venue formerly known as the Oxford Zodiac. The support was a French comedienne (!) whose name I sadly can't remember, and due to a combination of poor sound and the millennial-targeted patter I didn't hear or "get" much of her act. Sorry. There then followed a seemingly-interminable wait until the strains of Jermaine Jackson's Daddy's Home heralded the arrival of Annie Clark and The Down & Out Downtown Band. Annie sauntered onto the stage in a waitress outfit and raincoat... or did she? This was actually a lookalike who moved over to the keyboards before the real St Vincent ( if there is a real St Vincent ) appeared, looking archly puzzled. This fun piece of theatricality reminded me of a similar stunt I saw Jarvis Cocker pull at a Pulp gig many years ago and set the tone for the night...

The Daddy's Home album had been inspired by the '70s music Annie had heard her father playing when she was growing up, so it had a smooth, Steely Dan / FM rock sound, far away from the more electronic sounds we've come to expect from St Vincent. And, of course, that was the sound she was going for on this tour, right? Well, not really. After the set-opening, funked-up take on Digital Witness things got brutal as bruising versions of Down and Birth In Reverse pummelled our ears and it was clear this was going to be a heavy, heavy monster sound with some serious "axe" duels between Annie and multi-talented guitarist Jason Falkner. I think this was a level of sonic heaviosity that Tom wasn't prepared for but I think he still enjoyed it. Me, I was hooked.

The band were on fire as they cranked up the noise and funked up the, er, funk of the likes of Sugarboy and ( my favourite ) Los Ageless. Each member got their chance to shine and the Supremes-like backing singers in particular were fantastic. Before a sassy, sensual shimmy through Pay Your Way In Pain, Annie introduced the band as "fucking motherfuckers who can throw down in any way, shape or form and are good fucking people, man." Indeed. There were a lot of f-bombs to come as a visibly overcome and very hot Annie ( wiping her cleavage down with napkins - swoon! ) went on to say:

" I wanna give a 'Hello' and a special 'Thanks' to everyone here who's male, female, non-binary, trans, queer in any way, shape or form, all of you  -  we love you! I feel very lucky and I don't mean that in a fucking corny-ass fucking Instagram 'hashtag blessed' kind of way ( let's put that out there ) but, man, I'm fucking lucky that I get to do this thing and play music for everybody. I know there's a bunch of fucking writers and musicians and artists in this crowd and to you I say: just fucking go for it, man! Fucking do it, do it, we need you."

After fully introducing the band she went on to say "When I was young I admired people who are smart and now that I'm... 23 ( *laughter from crowd* ) I admire people who are fucking kind."

After all the shit the world's been through in the last few years this speech, coupled with the realisation that, yes, we can get back to our lives ( those lucky enough to still be here ), well... it was very moving and so good to hear some positivity.

The set climaxed with a smoking hot take on The Melting Of The Sun, and we really were melting by this point. Annie and the band finished this tribute to her musical heroines with a beautiful acapella outro ( which you can watch below ) and then they were gone. Just a stunning gig, easily one of the best I've seen in many years, if not ever.

How do you follow that slice of awesomeness? Well, how about some retro Norwegian synth-pop in a Welsh castle?

Before I met Sarah, when she was a teenager and just before her weekend-Goth years, she was a huge fan of Norway's A-ha... yes, the band who did that song, you know the one, they only had the one hit didn't they? ( Of course, I'm being facetious here: that tends to be the reaction most people have when you mention A-ha. ) She had kind of moved on from the band but, when I heard recently that they were on tour, I convinced her that we should go and see her former teen idols. They were scheduled for a few gigs in the UK earlier in the year but lead singer Morten Harket contracted laryngitis and they had to cancel some dates. We were concerned their Cardiff gig ( in Cardiff Castle itself ! ) might also be scrapped but luckily he had recovered by that point. So, we headed down the M4 for a couple of days in the lovely Welsh capital.

Cardiff Castle is a fantastic venue for outdoor gigs and we were lucky that the weather was perfect too, see photo above. After nabbing a spot as close to the stage as we could we listened to a DJ spinning a few '80s choons ( mostly of the non-shit variety luckily ) before support band The Christians came on.

We hadn't been sure there would even be a support band as there'd been no publicity prior to the gig. The Christians were one of those MOR '80s pop groups that I'd quite liked at the time but hadn't really thought about in the millennia since then. ( I think that's right? ) Anyway, they turned out to be a fine live act, still pretty slick but with some socially-conscious bite in their lyrics and a nice line in dry, Liverpudlian wit from front man Garry Christian. I'd forgotten just how many pop-soul bangers they had in their repertoire: Hooverville, Forgotten Town, Ideal World and When The Fingers Point all sounding fresh and inspirational. And then, just as the sun went down, it was time for the main event:

A-ha ( the band plus backing musicians ) came on stage and began playing the ( fairly rocky for them ) Sycamore Leaves and then.... Morton! Morton was here! Hundreds of middle-aged women began to lose their minds. I said to Sarah: "Look! He's real!" She was too busy happy-crying to kick me up the arse but she probably should have.

A-ha ran through a compelling set of melodic synth-pop, concentrating on their debut album Hunting High & Low but dropping in other songs from throughout their career, and even including a cover of Carole King's Crying In The Rain. ( They have a lot of meteorological songs of their own, often dealing with rain, which is probably why we Brits appreciate them. ) 

There were some massive singalongs to Cry Wolf ( "Awooo!" ), a haunting Hunting High & Low itself and a set-closing, Bond-tastic The Living Daylights. Morten was fairly taciturn throughout, letting one of The Other Two handle most of the interaction with the crowd, but he was a calmly charismatic figure and his voice was on top, almost operatic, form -  hitting some crazily long notes which hardly seemed possible for somebody who had recently beaten laryngitis.

After an encore of a hugely crowd-pleasing take on The Sun Always Shines On TV and a for-the-real-fans I've Been Losing You, the band finished with, of course, The Song...

Yep, a seismic shockwave hit the centre of Cardiff as the assembled masses of A-ha fanatics sang, shouted, cried and wailed along to Take On Me, while the iconic Steve Barron-directed video played out behind the band. It was a lovely moment and a perfect ending to a great gig, not one I would have expected to enjoy as much as I did... but I really did. Sarah, of course, was over the moon at seeing her teen idols in the flesh and at rededicating her life to the church of A-ha. ( Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating here. I know  -  who would have thought it? ) The band returned to the fjords ( probably ) and we returned to our hotel, after a quick junk-food fix somewhere on the mean streets of Cardiff. It had been a great day, a fun and surprisingly emotional gig, and the weather had been beautiful. In Wales no less!

That's me all caught up with my gig-going from this year so far ( apart from catching my old Borrowed Time mates playing a charity gig on the back of a lorry in a field ) and it feels like it's taken half the year just to write it all down. Hopefully, if Covid doesn't rear its ugly head too much over the next few months, I should be able to get to a few more gigs and witter on about them on this 'ere blog. Fingers crossed!

The Hope of Protest ( James Barton 2022 ), Hereford College of Arts

Last weekend we went to Hereford College of Arts to see James' final gallery show for his BA ( Hons ) Fine Art degree. This final piece is entitled The Hope of Protest and again showcases his passion for gay / trans rights and his interest in the history of protest. It's a very thought-provoking piece with its slogans, bright colours and evocation of the Stonewall riots.

We're extremely proud of James and the way he's overcome serious obstacles to become the first person in our family to go to university. His work is always personal, passionate and challenging and, from what we've heard, has provoked much talk and interest around the College amongst his peers and tutors. Here's James with Sarah on the steps of the College's main entrance where James' artwork had pride of place...

The calibre of work by James' fellow artists was also excellent and here are a few examples:

( This last one being very reminiscent of the late, great Rick Griffin )

Well done James, you're amazing! Can't wait for Graduation!

Some of James' previous work can be seen at the far end of this hyperspace wormhole into previous blog posts:

"Untitled" ( "Release" Exhibition, Hereford College of Arts 2021 )