Chuck Mosley

Very sad today to hear of the passing of former Faith No More vocalist Chuck Mosley. He was one of the most memorable front men I've ever seen, a ball of energy and passion. Faith No More at the Bristol Bierkeller back in the late '80s was one of my all-time top 10 gigs. And here's a link to one of my old Favourite Gig Fridays posts about that self-same night.
Strangely enough, in the last couple of days I've been playing FNM's fantastic second album Introduce Yourself on repeat in my car, thinking about what an idiosyncratic, compelling vocalist he was, not realising he had passed away. RIP Chuck...

Favourite Gig Fridays: V Festival 2004 snapshots ( re-posted... see below )

Pixies: reformed, rejuvenated, "doing it for the money" says Frank but we know differently, classic song after classic song about bones and incest and UFOs, Kim Deal's Cheshire Cat grin, that guitar sound from Joey, swearing in Spanish, ecstatic crowds loving every second. Awesome.
The Strokes: effortlessly cool, even their roadies are cool, Julian so drunk he can barely stand but still singing like a demi-god, every song from the first two albums, serious crush down the front but we don't care, a cover of The Clash's Clampdown for us old gits, extreme volume, did I mention they were cool?
Weston Park, Staffordshire, a lovely country estate setting. A strangely family-friendly, middle-of-the-road vibe. I sit in the sunshine and eat a hotdog while Badly Drawn Boy is on stage, go and check out the skateboarding at the Red Bull Vert Ramp while Jamie Cullen bores the pants off the main stage audience.

And then these guys turn up:
NERD: bringing the noise, Pharrell prowling the stage like a panther, everyone wave their hands in the air, everyone SCREAM, jump up and down, Paaaaarrrtttyyy!!


The Zutons: Scouse nutters, great tunes, Abi on sax, harmonies and melodies, Zuton Fever!

More fun than Snow Patrol.....

*Update 14/06/2015*
Dear Reader, there was previously a lovely photo of Abi from the Zutons here but somebody complained that it was infringing on their copyright so I've removed it. I now seem to be on some copyright infringement list with people who produce posts with titles like "Six porn stars show how to suck some mean dick"  -  obviously my sharing a photo of the comely saxophonist ( on a blog that has no commercial profile and is just here for entertainment ) is in the same league. Here are some words from the Google Overlords on the subject:

We have received a DMCA complaint for your blog, The Glass Walking-Stick. An email with the details of the complaint was sent to you on 13-Jun-2015 and we have reset the post status to "Draft"; you can edit it here. You may republish the post with the offending content and/or link(s) removed. If you believe you have the rights to post this content, you can file a counter-claim with us. For more on our DMCA policy, please click here. Thank you for your prompt attention.

Soundtrack: Surfer Rosa by The Pixies.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Geno Washington

After writing about Dexy's Midnight Runners recently at t'other blog, I thought I'd mention the time I saw the man who was the inspiration for one of their biggest hits, Geno.

Geno Washington is a veteran Soul singer who was very popular with Mod audiences in the swinging' '60s and gained a reputation for exciting, energetic live performances. When I saw him it was back in May 1988, when the memory of the Dexy's tribute was still pretty fresh and helped him relaunch his live career.

As I've done a couple of times before, I'm going to quote from my dusty, cobwebbed diary ( with modern asides in italics ) so please excuse any bad grammar, bad language or just plain '80s language - it was a loooong time ago :-(

"Me and Sarah ( the bad grammar begins! ) went over to the Stroud Sub Rooms to see ( The Legendary ) Geno Washington & The Ram Jam All-Stars ( phew! ) - saw Paul and Nick there. ( A couple of mates not known for their gig-going activities. ) The first band on were called Double Agent and they were crap. They were one of those middle-aged ( steady! ) showbands who only appear once a year ( thank God! ) and play endless cover versions: 'Thanks, you're a lovely audience. We love you! Slurp! Slurp! This is an old Cliff Richard song.....' Bleeeuurrghh!! After suffering all that we were relieved to see the Lemons ( legendary Stroud psychobillies ) hit the stage. Thud! Dressed up as cowgirls, with the added attraction of 'Anal Sex' on sax, they churned out their usual thrash-country-abilly stuff. Though I've grown a bit tired of their limited 'music', they're still quite a good laugh and were very welcome after the previous group.

"Eventually Geno Washington and his band came on. He's about 50 ( actually 43 in 1988 ), is short and bald, and his band look like they came out of the Ark ( and bear a strange resemblance to the Monty Python team ) - BUT they were GREAT! They played R'n'B, straight blues and some ska, with an energy that a lot of younger bands couldn't manage. Geno got the crowd going like a real old showbiz pro - it was corny ( singalongs etc.. ) but fun. Me, Sarah and even Paul got up and danced and had a very good time. Strangely enough, Nick didn't dance. ( I don't think my mate Nick has ever danced in his life but, hey, each to their own. ) The band played such standards as Got My Mojo Working, Stand By Me, Al Capone and others, and got called back for a couple of shit-hot encores. We came out of the gig knackered and soaked with sweat ( that's twice in one week - what a masochist I am ) but happy. ( The other gig was Faith No More at the Bristol Bierkeller as seen in the very first Fave Gig Fri ) Also, all the money raised went towards Meningitis research - a very important cause around these parts. An excellent gig."

And a few days later I wrote this:

"Oh, yeah I saw Martin 'Ameeba' at the Geno Washington gig and I gave him a copy of the Death Planet Commandos demo tape. He must've liked it 'cos the Ameebas offered us a support slot with them. It's the Wednesday after next at the Night Owl in Cheltenham. Should be good."

Actually, it was the Worst Gig Ever, see here for evidence.....

But the Geno gig was legendary.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Great Xpectations ( The Cure, Carter and co. )

It's been a loooooong time since I've done a Fave Gig Fri. so I'm going to cheat a bit here and quote from an old diary. ( For anyone under the age of 40, a diary is like a blog, but made of paper. How quaint! ) I've done this once before and it's always worth having a laugh at the expense of your own younger self.

The gig in question was Great Xpectations, a fund/consciousness-raiser for the indie radio station Xfm, held in Finsbury Park back in June 1993. The headliners were the mighty Cure, as featured on the NME cover above.

So I'm going to blow the dust and cobwebs off my diary and take you back to the days of floppy fringes, lumberjack shirts and blokes in short trousers playing guitar, with sarcastic modern-day comments in italics:

Me and Sarah ( Sarah and I! ) drove down to London, parked somewhere near Leicester Square and got the Tube to Finsbury Park. ( I obviously had no idea about London geography in those days. ) We had a drink in a local pub - full of Goths - and then went into the park. We'd missed The Family Cat and just saw Kingmaker play their last song - not a great disappointment. The event was compered by Sean Hughes, who seemed to be wasting his time. The first band we saw was The Frank And Walters: Irish nutters in garishly-coloured Oxford/Cambridge uniforms. They belted out their poppy, infectious songs e.g. After All I Still Love You, Fashion Crisis Hits New York, This Is Not A Song etc. Sarah wasn't that keen on them, but I thought they were great. There were a couple of acoustic sets: two of the blokes from Blur ( Damon and Graham ) came on and did their recent single, For Tomorrow - pretty good; unfortunately we were also lumbered with Guy Chadwick from the House Of Love who did some bloody awful solo songs and virtually begged the audience to buy his records. Sad man.

Next up were the Senseless Things. We missed most of their set 'cos we went for a wander around the park ( just us and 20,000 people ), nosing around the stalls etc. They seemed quite good though, especially when doing the snarling, raging Homophobic Asshole. They were followed by Sugar who I'd been really looking forward to. Unfortunately, they were a bit of a let-down. ( Incisive comments as ever! ) Their sound was dodgy to start with - which obviously annoyed Bob Mould - and they had a tendency to thrash through songs that would have benefited from a more subtle approach. They were quite good but, being a fan of Husker Du ( Mould's previous band ) for all this time, I'd expected something better. ( I go on to talk about The Catherine Wheel, but who's interested in them? ) Anyway, Belly were a lot better. Tanya Donnelly and her "rock chick" bass-player bounced all over the stage, obviously having a great time. Their stuff is very catchy but has dark undercurrents in the lyrics e.g. Gepetto seems to be about rape or abuse, all wrapped up in breathy lyrics and a poppy tune. Great stuff.

By now it was late afternoon but still very warm. ( Here's Tom with the weather! ) Next up were Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine - Jim Bob and Fruit Bat. I'd always quite liked their songs ( Don't hold back! ) but with this gig I was converted. Me and Sarah ( grammar! ) went down the front to get crushed and become Carter fans. They charged through an energetic, crowd-pleasing set: The Only Living Boy In New Cross,Sheriff Fatman, Do Re Mi So Far So Good, a singalong GI Blues etc. etc. Although they come in for a lot of stick, I think they're one of the best British bands going. We had a good time and it set it up well for the headliners.

The Cure came on stage as the sun went down, the hippy/Goth mood only slightly spoiled by Bob Smith's lumberjack shirt. They played a good, varied set, from old favourites like Boys Don't Cry, and A Night Like This / Push ( yay! ) to the Wish album material. It soon became obvious that most of the 20,000+ people had come here to see The Cure. They got a great reaction and the atmosphere was brilliant. Sarah got up on my shoulders to get a better view and nearly got dropped a couple of times 'cos a woman behind us kept on tickling me. The dangers of rock 'n' roll or what?

Finally, it was all over and we attempted to battle our way out of the park. Police on horseback herded us like cattle onto the crowded Underground and we got the Tube back to Leicester Square. By now it was gone midnight and we were hungry so we went and got some huge pieces of pizza. Even though I had to get up for work 6 hours later and we were still over 100 miles from home, we had got to the stage where you think "sod it." We eventually headed for home - another epic journey involving getting bloody lost again. ( This happens to me a lot in London! ) After much farting about and stopping every 5 minutes to try and keep me awake ( some things don't change! ), we got home at 3:30am or some such ridiculous hour. Oh, well.

( I did manage to get to work the next day. I was driving a lorry back then, so I must have been knackered! Phew, rock 'n' roll! )

Favourite Gig Fridays: The Supernaturals

You know those "almost" bands? The ones who almost make it but miss out on that all-important big break? Glasgow's The Supernaturals are a prime example. They came along as the Britpop scene was just past its peak, and they were buried by the mass of bandwagon-jumpers and no-talents who clogged up the charts at the time, all hoping for a piece of that Oasis/Blur/Pulp action. Which is a shame because, even though they might not have proved it by record sales, they were a cracking live band.

They seemed to be constantly touring during their short existence and I saw them a number of times with my mate Glenn: at Gloucester Guildhall ( a couple of times ), Cheltenham Night Owl and The Fleece in Bristol - there might have been others I can't remember ( over to you Glenn...) - all great gigs. If I have to choose one I'll go for the Night Owl gig, coincidentally the site of my Official Worst Gig Of All Time as well.

The venue was a packed, pokey little hole and the band were on top form, with much onstage banter between singer James and keyboard abuser Ken, and some major audience participation. In other words we jumped up and down, bellowed out the songs, laughed at James's stories and helped him take the piss out of Ken. The 'Naturals ( as we insisted on shouting out at them ) played a set bursting with melodic, anthemic indie with a definite '60s flavour. And what great songs: Please Be Gentle With Me, Lazy Lover, The Day Before Yesterday's Man, Smile - the latter being their most well-known tune, from countless TV adverts. They weren't the remotest bit edgy or innovative or self-consciously cool, but they were something just as important: FUN! A Supernaturals gig put a grin on your face from start to finish and you would have to be clinically dead from the neck down not to get up and dance/pogo/whatever.

I actually wore a 'Naturals T-shirt to the gig ( blue with a big, red "S" - where have I seen that before? ) and a very pretty young girl asked me if I was with the band - I had to admit I wasn't. ( Damn! )

Soundtrack: It Doesn't Matter Any More by The Supernaturals

Favourite Gig Fridays: Robyn Hitchcock / The Soft Boys

The return of Fave Gig Fri: a two-for-the-price-of-one special starring that archetypal English eccentric, Robyn Hitchcock. I'd first heard Mr. Hitchcock on Annie Nightingale's Radio 1 show, one night in the mid-'80s. The song, of course, was the immortal Brenda's Iron Sledge, a startlingly surreal excursion into Robyn's warped world-view, featuring bursting grasshoppers, iron pistons, icy slush, a possible Thatcher parody and the unforgettable lyric:

"All aboard Brenda's Iron Sledge

Please don't call me Reg

( It's Not My Name )"

OK, Hitchcock's Syd Barrett-esque fantasies can seem a bit contrived in a "I'm mad, me" kind of way, but I thought he was worth checking out.

Robyn turned up at Cheltenham Town Hall in December '86 with his band The Egyptians. By this point I'd bought his Element Of Light album and loved it, so I dragged my mate Paul The Stick Insect ( future DPC drummer ) along with me to see The Man Who Invented Himself. The gig was compered by punk-poet John Cooper-Clarke, whose Mancunian accent was mostly incomprehensible to us yokels, and support came from Principle Connection ( fake jazz in berets ), the bloody awful Vibrators ( or The Vibrators From London as the leopard-skin-wearing throwbacks were billed ), and The Jazz Defektors, a pretty good soul/jazz/r 'n' b band, who at least livened the place up a bit.

The Egyptians appeared and, according to my diary from the time, "churned out a sound that space-warped from garage psychedelia to mutant folk to cabaret pop and back again." All the great songs from Element Of Light were present and correct and Robyn dug into his back catalogue for classics like Uncorrected Personality Traits ( acapella! ) and good ol' Brenda. He rambled on to great surreal effect between songs - God knows what it was all about, but I always remember him introducing one tune like this: "This is a song that was written long before most of you were born, and a long time after the rest of you were dead." Er, yeah.....

Of course, before his solo career, Robyn had been the main man in The Soft Boys along with future Katrina & The Waves guitarist, Kimberley Rew. The band's loopy psychedelia was either out of date or ahead of its time, but was definitely unfashionable in those post-Punk days, and they became a short-lived cult band with one near-hit, Only The Stones Remain, to their name.

The Soft Boys reformed a few times in the '90s and I went down to that there London town in '94 to see the band, with a workmate, Hippy Mark. We met up with some of Mark's family and friends, had a quick drink in a typically packed-out London pub and then went into The Astoria to see The Man With The Lightbulb Head and his mates. The old Astoria was a large, gone-to-seed venue with a Bloody Expensive bar, which kept me provided with medicinal brandy as I was fighting off a stinking cold. The Soft Boys came on to the strains of the instrumental Do The Chisel and proceeded to rip through such old faves ( or new ones, in my case ) as Underwater Moonlight, Old Pervert, The Queen Of Eyes and I Wanna Destroy You, all excellent. Although missing Kimberley Rew the band played well, without quite lapsing into muso-hell, and seemed to feature the late Andy Warhol on maracas (!) - strangely appropriate. Robyn kept the inter-song babbling to a minimum, but did encourage us to ring Cones Hotline for some reason, and explained that the band's name was a merger of Burroughs' The Soft Machine and Warhol's Chelsea Boys. Although we all bellowed for Brenda's Iron Sledge, they didn't play much of Robyn's solo material, but never mind, it was all good fun.

Check out Elektra's blog for some new Robyn Hitchcock music. Tell her cerebus660 sent you.

 Soundtrack: Element Of Light and I Often Dream Of Trains by Robyn somebody.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Sex Pistols

I haven't done a Fave Gig Fri for a while, so here's a classic - the Sex Pistols at the Phoenix Festival, July 1996.

As previously mentioned here the Phoenix had a great lineup of bands: I saw The Chemical Brothers, Echobelly, The Specials, The Cardigans, 3 Colours Red, plus a few dodgy bands like Senser, Dub War and Ian Astbury's Holy Barbarians ( featuring Vic Reeves on high kicks! ). But the main reason I was there, my mate Glenn was there, a few thousand others were there, was to see the legendary, newly-reformed, still pissed-off Bay City Rollers. Sorry... Sex Pistols!!

Nowadays every bloody band and its dog reforms and trudges round the nostalgia circuit, but back in the '90s it wasn't so common, so the question was - would it be worth it? The Pistols were a band who burned brightly for a brief, exciting moment and then were snuffed out by internal power struggles and external pressures. They left a trail of anarchy, controversy, brilliant music and dead bodies ( Sid 'n' Nancy ) behind them. They had been encased in a kind of Punk-aspic for nearly 20 years and now they were back. Would they be just sad old farts, ruining their legacy by churning out Punk karaoke, or could they do the impossible and still be vital after all that time?

What do you think?

The feeling in the sweating, steaming crowd on that muggy July evening was a mixture of hope, excitement and trepidation. But when the band finally hit the stage the whole field erupted: the Pistols were back! They powered through a set of classic song after classic song, reclaiming their mantle of greatest, loudest, nastiest, funniest band in the world from all the pretenders that had sprung up in their wake. Matlock and Cook provided the rock-solid rhythm and backing-vocals, Jones the guitar hero poses and raw energy. Lydon ( who was still not quite the Country Life-flogging cartoon he is now ) was on fantastic form: his sneering, sarcastic front often slipping to reveal a man obviously enjoying his belated chance in the spotlight. If any band and any singer ever deserved a second chance after years of bitterness and struggle it was the Sex Pistols and John Lydon. And they proceeded to take that opportunity and play as if their lives depended on it. Everyone in the crowd knew that, despite Lydon's protestations of "doing it for the money", they loved the music and, you know, they meant it maaan!

( Saying all that, the next time I saw them, at Crystal Palace in 2002, they were awful! Lydon forgot the words to most of the songs, they played Silver Machine for God-only-knows-what-reason, and seemed bored with it all. Anarchy or what? )

Soundtrack: Never Mind The Bollocks by Take That.

:-)

Favourite Gig Fridays: Chemical Brothers

Just for a change of pace: no loud guitars, no stage-diving, no hyperactive frontmen. Instead we have two nondescript physics students, lurking behind rows of samplers and decks, dropping some block-rockin' beats.

It's July 1996 and I'm at the ( short-lived ) Phoenix festival with my mate Glenn. It's a baking hot day, temperature around 30 degrees, we've seen a few good bands ( Echobelly, Specials ) , a few dodgy ones ( Senser, Ian Astbury ), drunk orange juice with Hare Krishnas, enjoyed the sunshine, and now we're counting down the last couple of hours until the Sex Pistols hit the main stage. ( A future post beckons, methinks. ) Glenn goes off to watch Terrorvision while I head to the Megadog Tent to see the Chemicals.

I'd first heard Tom 'n' Ed on some NME compilation, along with other exponents of the Big Beat like Leftfield and Fatboy Slim. The Chemicals had made an instant impression so I went out and bought their first album Exit Planet Dust. It might sound a bit primitive now, when compared to more recent tracks like Galvanize and Do It Again, but the grooves are awesome.

So anyway, I force my way into the tent, past all the people hanging around outside, and push into the heaving mass at the front. The dry-ice is working overtime, lasers and strobes fire out all around, hideous papier-mache sculptures rotate above our heads, the basslines slam into our spines, whistles are blowing, there's no air but nobody's bothered, condensation rains down from the tent roof. Many people are to be seen performing the ancient art of "big fish, little fish, put it in the box" - ah, for simpler times! Without the distractions of a typical rock band preening and prancing on the stage ( the Bros bounce around a bit and wave their arms occasionally ) we can concentrate on the music: bleeps, pulses, washes of synths, slamming drum samples, melodies weaving in and out, sirens blaring, fantastic! Superstar DJs, Here we go!

The Pistols are gonna have to work hard to beat this. Will they do it? Stay tuned...

Above, the Brothers, workin' it out.

Let Forever Be, Leave Home, Galvanize, Block Rockin' Beats by The Chemicals.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Primal Scream

January 2000, first gig of the new millennium, the Scream!

Amazingly, Primal Scream have been around since 1982. In that time they have changed and mutated from "C86" fey jangle-pop, to psychedelic revivalists, to indie-dance icons, to today's eclectic rock royalty. When I saw them in 2000 at the good ol' Gloucester Guildhall ( with my mate Glenn ) they were warming up for their Xtrmntr tour, the single Swastika Eyes having just hit the UK Top 40 and the album reaching number 3 in the charts.

As the band came on stage Bobby Gillespie warned us "We're Primal Scream and we're here to f**** your heads up....."

And that's what they proceeded to do. Most of the set was the new Xtrmntr material which, although strangely lacking in vowels, was bloody good stuff. Songs like Accelerator, Shoot Speed / Kill Light and Kill All Hippies were explosive and expansive epics, with extra guitar pyrotechnics courtesy of My Bloody Valentine man Kevin Shields, and held together by Mani's dirty, funky bass-lines. Bobby threw some classic rock 'n' roll shapes while revisiting Screamadelica-era standards like Movin' On Up and Come Together, and faux-Stones rockers like, er, Rocks. As usual, he looked to be at death's door but managed to survive until the end of the set.

A great night of rock, psychedelia, old skool rave-rock and even a shot of ( shh! ) jazz into the bargain. Strangest sight of the gig: "Mad" Richard Ashcroft of The Verve striding through the venue wearing a huge Afghan coat and aviator shades, followed by two minders. We're not worthy!

Soundtrack:

MBV Arkestra ( If They Move Kill 'Em ) by the Scream.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Friday the 13th Edition

My Official Worst Gig Ever: The Screaming Ameebas / Death Planet Commandos, July 1988.

Not just your average bad gig - you know, boring band, arrogant frontman, grotty venue - but the Seventh Circle of Hell itself.

We ( that is, the semi-legendary Death Planet Commandos ) were supporting the Screaming Ameebas at a black hole of a venue called the Night Owl. We'd seen the Ameebas around the local scene and enjoyed their grubby, grebo rock ( anyone remember Zodiac Mindwarp? They did... ) - and their crazy spelling of the word "amoeba". Their singer/guitarist Martin seemed a nice enough bloke and I arranged a support slot with them in their home town of Cheltenham.

( OK, the poster above is for a different venue, the late, lamented Malt 'n' Hops, but you get the idea. )

Now, we didn't play the sleazy, fuzzed-up Motorhead / PWEI / Crazyhead metal that the headliners churned out: we were a barely-serious hardcore band, influenced by The Ramones, The Adolescents, Agent Orange, Husker Du, and lots of other bands nobody had heard of, especially the Ameebas' home crowd. But we thought that, as we all made a big ol' rock 'n' roll racket, we'd get along fine. Right? Wrong.

After lugging our gear up 50 flights of stairs ( approximately ) we waited around seemingly forever while the Ameebas soundchecked. And soundchecked. It went on and on, mostly consisting of miking-up the drumkit to within an inch of its life. Our drummer, Paul the stick-insect, was allowed the grand total of one mike. We finally went on stage in front of a catatonic audience of stoners who barely lifted their heads to look at us. Just for a laugh we started with a punked-up cover of one of the Ameeba's own songs, only they weren't laughing. Not even slightly. Then the sound problems kicked in: we could barely hear each other play through the monitors, my guitar went seriously out of tune, I borrowed another one, all it produced was feedback. And while we were on stage, banging our heads against a musical brick wall, some kid called Tony was getting my17-year old girlfriend ( now my wife ) extremely pissed on vodka.....

After finishing our set, to mass indifference, we waited for the Ameebas to do their thing, which they did to almost the same level of apathy from the audience. Their audience. Christ, what a useless bunch of dopers! We asked Martin Ameeba for our money. He told us to see the club's owner. He told us to see the Ameebas. The upshot was we didn't get paid. We were none too impressed, but I have heard accounts of baseball bats being pulled on bands who demand their payment, so it could have been worse. I lugged my guitar, amp and extremely pissed girlfriend back down those 50 flights of stairs ( approximately ) and headed for home, vowing never to return to Cheltenham. After all that I caught major flak from Sarah's parents for getting her so drunk, even though I'd been on stage at the time and had been totally oblivious. ( This also had other repercussions that I won't go into here but they were not good. ) What a night.....

The next gig we played was at the afore-mentioned Malt 'n' Hops and was one of the best nights of my life. Rock 'n' Roll, eh?

Martin Ameeba now goes by the name of Ace and plays guitar for Skunk Anansie. ( Greatest Hits cd in the shops now! Get it for Christmas! )

Soundtrack: Automatic For The People by REM.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Ash

Last Tuesday night, Gloucester Guildhall, Ash: what a great gig! Instantly pushing past the queue and into the Fave Gig Fri front row. I don't know why I've never seen Ash live before, but as they were playing our local rock 'n' roll mecca, Glenn and I just had to get our asses down there to see Northern Ireland's finest do their thing.

This was the 7th gig of their A-Z Tour, a series of shows taking an alphabetical route through some of the UK's smaller venues, hence Gloucester Guildhall rather than Birmingham NEC or some other soulless cowshed.

Support band the Panama Kings were uninspiring: they had the sound, the ability and the attitude but ( for me anyway ) not the songs nor memorable tunes. Ash, however had the lot, except for one thing I'll mention later.....
Following in the tradition of Blondie or The Buzzcocks or The Jam ( yeah, I know, very dated references ), Ash are a brilliant singles band, banging out great song after great song. ( They've actually announced that they won't make any more albums, because less and less people buy music that way, and will only release singles from now on. To coincide with this tour they're putting out 26 singles in a year, 1 every 2 weeks. )

And they fired out most of these great songs on Tuesday night: from early classics like Kung Fu and Girl From Mars ( both played at Ramones-like tempos ) through big hits such as Shining Light, and on to future favourites like Joy Kicks Darkness ( a cracking new song! ), they played a blinder with not a dull moment in the set. And the band obviously enjoyed it as much as the crowd, Tim Wheeler especially having a great time, grinning from ear to ear and charging around the stage like the teenager he was when he formed the band. ( He's now at the advanced age of - gulp! - 32. ) They finished with a fantastic Burn Baby Burn and a funky Return Of White Rabbit, an epic new song that stands tall amongst their older classics. I'll definitely have to see 'em again for more top tunes and Flying-V action!
Oh yeah ( cue for a song? ), my one regret is that I never saw the band when Charlotte Hatherley played second guitar for them. She's a damn good singer and songwriter with her own solo career on the go. And she's a babe.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Poison Idea

So, here's a band I only ever saw once ( at TJ's, Newport ) and whose records I've never owned, but they still make it into the ranks of Fave Gig Fri. The mighty ( and physically massive ) Poison Idea, a hardcore band from Portland, Oregon, whose late guitarist pictured above went by the delightful nom de rock of Pig Champion. They played the kind of loud, aggressive hardcore/metal that really only works in a live gig situation.....

As a special treat/torture I'm going to quote my gig review from my diary for July 1991 - yep, long before t'internet all we had was pen and paper to record our twisted thoughts; how prehistoric! Let the quotation commence, with 2009 comments in italics:

"Poison Idea lumbered onto stage: probably the most hideously obese Americans ever to thrash guitars and roar drunkenly on stage. ( Nice repetition of the word 'stage' ) Despite their whale-like bulks ( sensitive! ) they played blindingly fast and f***ing LOUD. The crowd went, as they say, wild. I went down the front, with Mark and Jon, which turned out to be a bad decision when someone accidentally smacked me in the face and cut my cheek.

( Poor baby! ) It didn't seem like much at the time, but when I got home and looked in a mirror, I realised I had quite a good cut - and it's still visible now. ( This was written 4 months after the gig for reasons of pure laziness ) Wow, rock 'n' roll, eh? Poison Idea were actually very good ( Don't hold back with the praise! ) and made it all worthwhile, even though their set fell apart at the end as the singer 'escorted' a too-abusive member of the audience outside for a little chat. Got home late, crashed out, thud!"

I was obviously more concerned with recording a very minor injury than talking about the actual music. That could be why I never ended up writing for the NME.

Soundtrack:The Badge by Poison Idea ( via the miracle of YouTube )

Favourite Gig Fridays: The Ramones

Hey ho! Let's go! Hey ho! Let's Go!

It's a bitterly cold October night in 1987 and, unlikely as it may seem, New York cartoon Punks are rocking the grimy Hummingbird Club in downtown Birmingham. Birmingham UK that is...

The support bands ( Flesh For Lulu and the Sex Gods - who? ) have left the building, everyone's been to the bar and come back, the house lights go down and dry-ice fills the stage. A powerful drumroll starts up, the stage lights flash on, and there are da brudders Ramone, standing on top of the amps and powering into the instrumental, Durango 95.

And the crowd goes wild. Well, actually the crowd goes 100% batshit mental.

The Ramones speed through their set with no let-up between songs, only enough time to count in the next anthem: 1 2 3 4 Rockaway Beach! 1 2 3 4 Blitzkrieg Bop! 1 2 3 4 Too Tough To Die! 1 2 3 4 Sheena Is A Punk Rocker, you get the picture.....

I dive into the seething mass at the front with Ade, Mark, Jon and Steve - Christ, it's rough! And HOT! At one point I get knocked over and about 7 or 8 bodies fall on top of me, Ade hauls me back up, then we're both knocked over again. ( And we do this for fun?! ) All this frenzy is unsurprising: The Ramones are excellent, very together, very loud, still banging out the classics with a freshness unheard of in most bands of their longevity. They sing about being sedated, going to a rock 'n' roll high school and something about a warthog. Joey doesn't move much but looks demonic, Dee Dee pounds his bass like he's trying to kill it, Johnny is dressed for an undertakers' convention but churns out lightning-fast riffs, and the drummer (whatsisname)...um...plays the drums. It's over all too soon, we call them back for a couple of encores, including Let's Dance, during which I get horribly mangled but just about emerge with all limbs intact. We stagger out into the freezing bloody cold Brum night, sweat and steam pouring off our knackered bodies, my hearing and voice shot to hell - a sure sign of a good gig :-)

Favourite Gig Fridays: Metallica

OK, this week I'm growing my hair, splashing on some patchouli, wearing my leather jacket no matter how hot it gets, and turning this motherhumper up to 11, 'cos it's Metallica time!!
To be more precise it's September 1988 at Newport Centre, the Damaged Justice tour. I'm there with Mark, Jon, Matthew and Steve ( where are all those guys nowadays? ), we've just missed support band Danzig but we're not too bothered 'cos Metallica hit the stage just as we walk into the venue, and EXPLODE into first song Blackened. Riffs, drums, screams, strobes, volume! Before we know it the song's over, a few choice f-words from James Hetfield and we're on to For Whom The Bell Tolls, our eardrums destroyed already.

And that's the way it goes, one mighty slab of sound after another crashing down on our heads, beating us into submission. To be honest, I could do without the bass solo ( a way of apologising to Jason for mixing his bass so low on the album? ) and Kirk's Hendrix tribute, the kind of self-indulgence I thought "thrash" metal had left behind. But who cares anyway? Metallica steamroller their way through classics like Harvester Of Sorrow, Creeping Death, One ( the strobes! the helicopters! ) and Last Caress ( yay! ) until the inevitable occurs: with a blinding flash their Halls of Justice stage set crashes to earth in a completely Spinal Tap, none-more-metal kind of way. It's ridiculous and perfect at the same time. A final encore of Whiplash and the band are gone, taking our hearing and sanity with them.....

Soundtrack: Last Caress, Helpless, Crash Course In Brain Surgery, For Whom The Bell Tolls and other sweet love songs by the mighty Metallica.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Gloucester Guildhall

Something different this week: this post is all about a venue not a band.

My home town of Gloucester is not exactly filled with an abundance of buzzin' rock venues. Apart from a few pubs and the very occasional gig at the local leisure centre, there's really only one venue that counts, the Guildhall Arts Centre, purveyors of fine live music since 1988. The city council's loss was the gig-goer's gain as the grey old men moved out and the Victorian ballroom became a "performance space." With a capacity of 300 or so, the Guildhall is an intimate venue where bands tend to fall into three categories: new bands on the way up, old bands on the way down, hot bands doing warm-ups for tours or "secret" gigs. It boasts some well-preserved architecture, a decent bar/cafe, and a chance to check out the latest art exhibition if the band is too boring.
Here's a short list of some of the bands I've seen there over the years: Primal Scream, Catatonia, EMF ( Gloucester boys! ), The Supernaturals, Symposium, Lambchop, Carter USM, SMASH, Carbon/Silicon, Stiff Little Fingers, UK Subs, The Damned, Antiproduct, and many more.....

I also once "crept the boards" of the Guildhall with the semi-legendary Death Planet Commandos, but that's a story for another day.
My next Guildhall gig: Northern Ireland's finest, Ash, on their A-Z Tour. Can't wait!

Favourite Gig Fridays: Crass

The early 1980s: Punk as a "movement" is over, the Pistols have split, the fashion victims have moved on to the New Romantic scene, subgenres like Oi! and Goth have appeared, creating tribalism which only fractures the scene further. Probably the most significant development in Punk is the rise of the Anarchist bands, anti-capitalistic, anti-vivisection, pro-direct action, a nihilistic and confrontational underground scene boasting the likes of The Subhumans, Conflict, Dirt, The Mob, A Flux Of Pink Indians, The Poison Girls and ( as they say ) many more. But the prime movers, the inspiration, the most loved and reviled are the band / collective / record label known as Crass.....
It's September, 1981. I'm 14 years old and at probably only my second or third ever gig. And I'm bricking it! The venue is The Marshall Rooms in grotty, recession-hit Stroud. A dingy, fag-smoke blanketed hole, packed with Stroud punks on one side of the venue and Gloucester skin'eads on the other side, glaring at each other and waiting for the first signs of provocation. Crass member Annie Anxiety stands up to read some feminist, anarchist poetry, which doesn't go down too well with some of the neanderthals in the crowd, scuffles break out, I keep my head down.

Black curtains shroud the stage while TV monitors spew out white noise and images of car-crashes, abattoirs, 1950s commercials, nuclear explosions, and other fun stuff. The curtains part to reveal Crass the band, standing motionless, intense, ignoring the crowd. This carries on for some time as the crowd gets louder and angrier until, at some pre-arranged moment, the band suddenly scream into their first song, a wall of discordant noise smashes over the crowd, a mass fight instantly breaks out.....

To be honest, I wasn't a great fan of Crass. The only album of theirs I owned was Stations Of The Crass, a virtually unlistenable howl of anger against society, the government, the armed forces, Garry Bushell (!) and other obvious targets. I preferred bands like The Subhumans or Conflict who sounded a bit more like proper rock bands: you know, with actual tunes and things.

Crass as a live band was a different prospect. It may be because I was so young and inexperienced back in '81 ( a lifetime ago! ) but they seemed an almost physical force as I was pushed and pummelled in that audience. A black wave of energy, intensity and ferocity. They meant it, maaaan! It was a Hell of a gig: the charged atmosphere, the violence, the peacemakers in the crowd trying to calm the situation, the exhilaration of being part of something, the police waiting outside, the sheer noise assaulting your eardrums.

You don't get that at Travis gigs, I can tell you!

Favourite Gig Fridays: Mercury Rev / Flaming Lips

The place: Oxford Brookes University.

The date: 6th May 1999 ( how long ago? )

The occasion: that rare moment when a support band blow the headliners off the stage...

Mercury Rev were touring the Deserter's Songs album, a sublime collection of tunes that dragged them out of Wierdo Corner and propelled them into the limelight, after many years of drink, drugs, breakdowns etc. With its horn sections, female sopranos, bowed saws and guest spots by Garth Hudson and Levon Helm of The Band, Deserter's Songs was a revelation of eerie Americana.

I turned up at Oxford Brooks Student Union, expecting a lot from the Rev and very little from the support band with the unpromising name The Flaming Lips. The Lips sort of shuffled onto the stage and seemed to be doing a soundcheck which eventually morphed into a proper set. Steven Drozd and Michael Ivins were sitting down (!), surrounded by banks of synths and keyboards while Wayne Coyne stood tall, often hammering on a massive gong behind him. A large screen behind the band showed weird collections of images throughout, Coyne occasionally pointing at the screen, where sparks seemed to shoot out from his fingers. The music itself was like Pink Floyd playing Pet Sounds or the Beach Boys playing Dark Side Of The Moon. Strangely moving songs about mortality and Man's place in the universe were accompanied by Coyne singing to a Nun glove-puppet or breaking a phial of stage blood on his forehead. The Lips' stage antics have since become bigger and more celebrated but this low-key introduction to the band was enough to make me a believer. I can honestly say I've never expected less but received more from a band...

After that poor old Mercury Rev were almost an anti-climax. I had wondered how they would recreate Deserter's Songs' soundscapes live. Samples, synths, tapes? As it was they did it all with a basic guitar/bass/drums set up, which gave the songs a rockier, less dreamlike feel. But even with this stripped-down sound they still had such wonderful songs as Holes and Goddess On A Hiway, not to mention Jonathan Donahue's plaintive vocals and Grasshopper's psychedelic guitar pyrotechnics. And a great cover of Like A Hurricane too!

Strangely enough, I haven't seen either band play live since. I'll have to do something about that: 10 years is far too long.

"Bands, those funny little plans, that never work quite right." Holes by Mercury Rev.

Soundtrack: Deserter's Songs, The Soft Bulletin, The Rev and The Lips.

Favourite Gig Fridays: Faith No More

This is the start of what I hope to be a regular series of posts about some of the best gigs I've been to and the bands who've destroyed my eardrums and kicked my ass.

To start with we're going back to June 1988, the Bristol Bierkeller, and the mighty Faith No More. Not the stadium-bothering megastars fronted by Mike Patton, but the earlier incarnation with eccentric ( ie a bit of a dick ) Chuck Mosely on vocals. They had recently had their first UK hit single with We Care A Lot and were at the stage where they were packing out smaller venues on their way to the big leagues.

They came on stage with Mosely wearing a safari suit (!), shades and a cravat, which he discarded throughout the set as it got hotter and hotter, until he was just down to his boxers. Thankfully he didn't go any further. Behind Mosely's crazed stage persona the band were a powerhouse, insanely heavy and intense: from the crushing tribal drumbeat of Chinese Arithmetic to the final very-metal freak-out of Sabbath's War Pigs, it was non-stop raw power.

A serious amount of moshing and stage-diving fun was had by all. One lad next to me in the crowd obviously wanted to stage-dive but couldn't work up the courage. When it came to the encore he knew it was now or never, I pushed him up onto the stage ( no stupid crowd-barriers in those days ), he launched himself into the air, the audience parted, and splat! he hit the deck, face down. Oops!

So, definitely one of the best gigs I've ever been to. FNM booted Mosely out soon after, released The Real Thing album with Mike Patton and went on to bigger things. But, in the age-old tradition of nerdy music-snobs, I think they were a better band back then, when they had it all to prove. And I was there, you hear me, I was there! ( OK, grandad, calm down, it's medication time...)

Soundtrack: Introduce Yourself by FNM.