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.

Recent(ish) gigs: EMF, The Wedding Present, Echobelly, Slotface

 Yes, it's overdue gig review time again. I'm kicking this post off with a totally gratuitous photo of the vivacious Sarah from Blue Violet, an exciting, new-to-me band I saw supporting Echobelly recently. It's a shameless, brazen attempt to get people of a certain persuasion to read this 'ere blog. ( Do I seem desperate? )

In a rare case of me actually posting about gigs in chronological order ( it'll never catch on! ), I'm going back to October and another new-to-me band, Norwegian indie-punk firebrands Slotface. You'll have to imagine a Scandinavian-style oblique slash through the "o" in that name, instead of what I've attempted, as my keyboard doesn't want to comply. ( Slotface were originally called Slutface, but changed the name after complaints, although it's still pronounced the same. Apparently. ) I'd bought tickets over a year ago to see current hottest-band-in-the-world The Last Dinner Party in Birmingham but, unfortunately, this gig was cancelled only a couple of days before the event. This left me and good friend Tom ( of The Sensitive Bore fame ) looking for an alternative form of entertainment, preferably in the Birmingham area, and preferably not opera or bingo. After hitting YouTube for song examples, we decided on this unknown quantity.

The venue, The Victoria, turned out to be an old school Brummie pub, just over the road from New Street train station, with a function room on the first floor. This can probably hold about 70 people so is compact and bijou, you might say, if you were so inclined. The first band on were Prairie who described themselves as "Black Country emo" and lived up to the billing. They were a pretty decent indie band ( talk about damning with faint praise! ) but their songs were noticeably lacking in memorable hooks. To be fair, their singer was also dealing with a bad cold and her voice gave out a few times, but she struggled gamely on. After the set I had a quick chat with her and praised her gumption ( that's not a euphemism ) and she said that, as people had made the effort to come out on a wet night in Birmingham, she felt obliged to at least attempt to put on a show. Fair enough.

Next up were SUDS, another band with a rather uninspiring name, and - no offence to Prairie - the quality instantly ramped up. In a similar, indie -Emo -punk vein, SUDS had tunes, hooks and melodies to spare, and a joyous energy that woke up the audience. Their singer had a surprisingly sweet voice and shared some fun banter with the bass-player who was a dead ringer for Jerry from The Walking Dead. Definitely a band to watch, even though they seem a bit too polite and sedate for the type of audiences I imagine they're playing for.

"Polite and sedate" are not words I'd use to describe Slotface...

Roaring onto the stage with the charmingly-titled I Used To Be A Real Piece Of Shit, Slotface fizzed with a crackling aural voltage and kicked out a ball of melodic, punky, fuzzed-up sound. Each member of the band looked amazingly cool and had attitude and presence coming out of their ears. In short, the kind of band that are tailor-made for old gig-goers like me, who often wonder where all the "real" bands are today. ( Alright, give it a rest, granddad! )

They introduced new songs from their latest album, Film Buff, such as Leading Man and Final Girl, which had various movie / film connotations, and then pleased their regular fans with older songs such as Nancy Drew and Telepathetic ( a real anthem, probably my favourite of the night. ) These songs were all new to me and Tom, and were all fantastic. Singer Haley Shea had an excellent voice, powerful, controlled and soaring, while her bandmates were all cracking musicians - one of the tightest bands I've seen in ages.

And, speaking of cracking, that's what nearly happened to my cranium as the bass player leapt off the stage and nearly clobbered me with his machine head. Pretty soon, Haley joined him down on the floor and encouraged us to form a mini circle pit, which we duly did. All good, sweaty fun. Haley asked if any of us were "gym people" ( which prompted a resounding "No!" ) and said she could probably give personal fitness training a go if the rock 'n' roll didn't work out. On this evidence, I think it will work out...

Here's me above, pointing out the murderous, but oblivious, bass player. And below, the full Slotface workout routine in blurred action. All too soon, the gig was over and everyone was knackered but grinning, confident we'd seen one of the standout performances of the year, proving that unexpected gigs can often be the best. Tom and I had a chat with Haley at the merch stand, where I bought a signed vinyl copy of the new album. Tom, of course, asked Haley what her favourite movies are and she replied she was a big fan of The Breakfast Club, something she apparently likes to say to film bores ( like us! ) who expect something more profound from a singer whose album is called Film Buff. Top marks for attitude, yet again. So, three bands I'd happily see again ( especially Slotface! ), although I think I'd wear a hard hat next time...

Moving on from up-and-coming young bands and on to some more, er, mature acts now - starting with two consecutive nights in my favourite venue, Gloucester's gorgeous Guildhall...

Friday 15/11 saw my third time unwrapping The Wedding Present. Sarah and I had seen them in this very same venue almost exactly a year before, and that had been an absolutely killer gig, so I was overjoyed to see them again. Sarah wasn't as keen, but came along anyway. I'm glad to report they were just as good this time and I think they're becoming, after all this time, one of my fave live bands. We unfortunately missed the support, but still got into the venue early enough to bag a good spot near the stage.

Starting off with a couple of new songs ( brave! ) David Gedge and his band started as they meant to go on: all velocity, lugubrious vocals and finger-shredding guitar pyrotechnics. I'm still not overly familiar with TWP's back catalogue, but the classic A Million Miles was the third song and the familiar opening chords brought an instant smile to my face, and I even managed to kind of sing along. Yes, I'm definitely becoming a fan.

Gedge, who seemed to surprise himself with how much he talked to and with the audience, announced a third new song, and said we might want to "go for a wee" at this point. Bless. He didn't have to worry as this slow-burning tune, Silver Shadow, was just as captivating as more familiar material like Don't Talk Just Kiss. The band were, as ever, on it - musically tight and enjoying themselves, even as they ran the risk of losing skin to guitar strings with all the fretboard pummelling going on.

The onstage banter turned to the topic of guitar effects pedals. Mentioning his co-guitarist, Gedge said "Rachel's got a pedal-board as wide as a car; I've got two sounds: clear and LOUD!" Being self-effacing as ever, he neglected to mention that he can wring a huge amount of noise and emotion from these two settings. And he proceeded to do so throughout the set, especially during my fave Weddoes song I Am Not Going To Fall In Love With You, which was just stunning.

The increasingly-voluble Gedge then introduced the band and ran through the various other bands they've played for and their Top Of The Pops appearances. Apparently, the bass player had been on TOTP with Gomez, while the drummer had appeared on TOTP with 6 (!) different bands.

"This could be the start of  a new feature" Gedge chuckled before Rachel revealed she'd played on TOTP with the winner of the BBC's Fame Academy, Alex Parks. ( Nobody there seemed to know who that was, but a quick Google afterwards showed that Parks didn't exactly have the best time in her brief career as a pop star, unfortunately. )

The set climaxed with some old favourites like Kennedy and Nobody's Twisting Your Arm, with the band bowing out after a ferocious Brassneck. Sarah was only mildly impressed ( she thought TWP's sound was too samey, which I can totally understand, if not necessarily agree with ) but I thought it was a terrific gig, and I'll definitely see them again, given the chance.

And the very next night saw us back in the good ol' Guildhall again. It really is our home from home. And my old friend Glenn ( of Borrowed Time fame ) came along with us - in fact he still owes me for the ticket...

This time, we managed to catch the support band, Blue Violet, and we were glad we did because they were great!

Before they came on stage, the PA was blaring out The Four Tops' cheesy old hit, Loco In Acapulco, which seemed an odd choice. Then out came BV's Sarah in the T-shirt pictured and it all made sense. Blue Violet are a very confident, sassy band, their sound a compelling mix of indie-pop and Goth, with Sarah throwing some very Debbie Harry-inspired shapes, as you can see above. Synth-y and sensual, their music instantly hooked the crowd, who reacted to them as if they were the headliners. I'll definitely have to catch them again: they've got a new album out in January, so I imagine they'll be out on the road again soon.

And then it was time for one of the most underrated bands of the Britpop era, Echobelly...

Glenn and I had last seen Sonya Madden and her band waaaaay back in 1996 (!) at the Phoenix Festival, so we were well overdue to catch them again. They started the set with the bouncy hymn to solipsism I Can't Imagine The World Without Me and proceeded to fling more Britpop bangers at us. Car Fiction and Father, Ruler, King, Computer had us partying like Tony Blair was still PM. And that's pretty wild, kids! Sonya still had that breathy vocal style and twinkle in the eye that could reduce grown men ( and some women, no doubt ) to pools of jelly. The band, while not strictly the same group I'd seen in a field in Warwickshire all those years ago, were razor sharp and fully in control.

It was all going so well... but then Sonya introduced a song by saying "This one's about bulimia." Awkward silence time. She glared at the audience and said "Look it up." There was a definite feeling of being lectured to, and I think we all felt uncomfortable. No doubt this was a subject that Sonya feels strongly about ( personal experience, perhaps? ) but I shouldn't think there were many in the crowd who didn't know what bulimia is -  most of us were of a certain age, you might say, so have been around the block a few times. It was a definite buzzkill and it took another couple of songs before the atmosphere picked back up. ( It hadn't helped that, after Sonya had said "Look it up", a bloke behind us said "Bring it up"  -  not good. )

About midway through the set, most of the band left the stage, leaving just Sonya and the OG guitarist ( another Glenn ) to play a couple of semi-acoustic numbers. These were an excellent showcase for her beautiful vocals and were just sublime.

At one point, Ms. Madden remarked "You're all so polite. Thirty years ago, we'd be breaking up fights down the front." ( I think a few of us would be too worried about putting our backs out these days, to be honest. ) Then she said "Do you want to sing?" and, oh yes, we did sing as the band blasted out their most recognisable, biggest hit Great Things. And it was great. They finally encored with an anthemic King Of The Kerb ( I still haven't got a clue what that song's all about ), a cover called Giving It All ( from the Echobelly side-project Calm Of Zero ) and an epic Dark Therapy, which finished the night on a triumphant high. Even allowing for that bulimia reference and some moments of spikiness from La Madden, it had been an excellent set and I'm glad I finally caught up with Echobelly after nearly three decades. ( Gulp! )

And, if you're talking 1990s, it doesn't get much more '90s than those boys from the Forest Of Dean, the rave-tastic EMF...

So, the 12th of December saw a just-recovering-from-a-throat-infection Sarah and I heading to Cheltenham ( Gloucester's posh neighbour ) and the county's newest music venue, The Steam and Whistle. This is the pub formerly known as The Midland Hotel, opposite Cheltenham's train station. I wasn't sure that this place would be big enough for The Meff, but it has almost Tardis-like properties as a virtually hidden door takes you down a steep flight of steps into an underground lair bar / hall, with a capacity of about 250 /300. On closer inspection, the pub is actually built into a bank and this is the lower level with a small courtyard outside. ( Pay attention, there'll be a test later. )

This gig was the first time I'd seen EMF in 12 (!) years, almost to the day that they had played their first two albums, back to back, in ( where else? ) the Gloucester Guildhall, filmed for posterity as the Long Live The New Flesh DVD. Obviously not quite as large a gap as the Echobelly situation, but I was well overdue to see the band, especially since they've recorded a couple of new albums in the meantime and have virtually returned to full-time gigging.

There was quite a buzz ahead of the set, as Sarah and I wormed our way through the tightly-packed crowd, to a spot about four rows from the front. Unusually for a rock gig, EMF had an introduction by a fully-gowned, bell-ringing town crier. This was Jer Holland, the official town crier for the band's hometown of Cinderford, who had also been instrumental in getting a blue plaque erected for EMF in the town. After his "Oh yez, oh yez, oh yez" routine, with many humorous mentions to the FOD, the band came on stage to a rapturous reception and asked "Is there anyone here from the Forest?" - the roar that followed kind of confirmed that.

Despite some sound / technical issues ( "Were so professional" said James Atkin as he wrestled with his microphone ), the band were on top form and soon had the audience partying like it was 1990. They started with newie The Day The Music Died, then it was straight on to the classic singles Lies and I Believe, and everybody was now dancing. The newly-minted anthem Reach For The Lasers was a lovely tribute to the old rave days, with glow-sticks ahoy ( Sarah was gutted that she'd forgotten hers ) and James reading out a list of inspirational DJs  -  Carl Cox, Annie Mac, Don Letts, Frankie Knuckles etc  -  which ended with a rabble-rousing crowd chant for the late Andy Weatherall. James said "We're too old to party now, we just sing about it." Somehow, I don't quite, er, believe that...

Which, by a staggering coincidence ( not really ) leads us into *the hit*, Unbelievable. This was as manic as ever, with the whole venue going bananas and bouncing around like a plate of jelly on a trampoline. Or something. It was crazy, man. Long Hot Summer Nights was a more chilled out number, suiting the warm weather inside the venue, if not the chilly December night outside. My fave EMF song, Children, was an emotional epic and was very special indeed. They threw in a cheeky cover of Depeche Mode's I Just Can't Get Enough, which was great fun and emphasised the band's place in the lineage of great British sythnpop bands. They were due to head off to catch a ferry to Ireland for a gig in Cork, so Ian Dench was virtually dragging James off stage, but they gamely finished the set with another cover, the old Vic Reeves collaboration I'm A Believer, and fan favourite Inside.

After a bit of indecision, the band enchored with, of course, EMF itself  -  I mean, they had to play it for the ( almost ) hometown crowd. "Is Cheltenham in the Forest of Dean? Yes, we've decided it is tonight." Ian had been liberally spicing the set with the words "mother fucker" ( they're such polite boys! ), so their name-checking anthem was inevitable: "E! Ecstasy! M! Mother fucker, mother fucker!" Lovely. And with that, they were gone. ( Well, considering how rushed they were, I did see Derry in the bar about an hour later, still signing autographs. )

It had been a great evening, and I think I've converted Sarah into an EMF fan. After the gig we sat in the bar for a while with my work colleague, Fergus*, and his son Ethan. We had a lovely chat, mostly about bands and gigs, but Sarah was frustrated by how croaky her voice was, following the throat infection. Anyway, it was a cracking gig to finish off the year ( I doubt if I'll get any more in now ) and a pleasure to see the boys from the FOD again. Just don't ask who killed the bear.

* Last Friday, Fergus was sadly involved in a car crash. Some little twat in a flash car hit him headlong as he was driving to work. He's currently in hospital for Christmas, in quite a bad way. Get well soon, Fergus.