Ridiculously overdue gig reviews: Sleeper, The Wedding Present, The Last Dinner Party & The Beat

First of all, can I just apologise for the appalling lack of posts lately / over Christmas / in 2025, and also say "Monkey Tennis!"

Sorry, had to get that out of my system. My last post on TGW-S, cunningly titled "Monkey Tennis?" has so far received over 12,500 page views in the last four (!) months. I like to think this is because people have been overwhelmed by the skill, wit and insight of my writing... and not because the Steve Coogan-coined phrase is eminently searchable on this 'ere t'internet. No, it can't be that.

Anyway... gigs! Four nights with two of my current favourite live bands, plus one new-to-me band and an old familiar one. First up, the supremely sensational Sleeper! The last time we'd seen Louise Wener and chums was at Gloucester's glamorous Guildhall, where they'd performed an acoustic set with an intimate, Q&A kind of vibe. That was fine, but I prefer my Sleeper to be a bit louder, so I jumped at the chance to see them in good ol' Brizzle.

'Twas a balmy late September evening ( Friday the 26th, in fact), and Sarah and I had a hassle-free run down the M5 to Bristol, and to the venue formerly known as SWX - now rechristened Electric. ( It's a chain apparently. ) We grabbed a spot in a handily close-by car park and headed into the venue, where we grabbed another spot, house right, not as close to the stage as I would like, but not too bad. Support band Rialto were half-way through their set and we just about managed to stay awake as their nondescript indie spread beige vibes around the room. To be fair, a lot of people seemed to like them, but I found them very dull and thought posho singer Louis Eliot's voice was weak in the extreme. Other opinions are available.

Then things immediately improved as Sleeper took to the stage and basically banged out their greatest hits. Starting with the Pixies-influenced Bedhead, with it's refrain of "Yes, yes, I think so" echoing what the audience were thinking, the band then launched into indie-disco classic Nice Guy Eddie. One of *the* signature songs of the Britpop era, this gold-digging anthem boasts the line "Pass my bag, I picked up that bra you fancied" - Louise's delivery of which can still turn your knees to water. The

set did slightly lose momentum around this point, even though the band were playing such great songs as Cellophane and Delicious, but they soon got back on track. Delicious was dedicated to all the women in the audience ( "It's your song, and always has been" said Louise ) which was absolutely fine by the two women next to us who didn't stop dancing for the entire gig. Louise said she wrote the next song, The Sun Also Rises, "in 2017, when I thought the world couldn't get any shitter" - an uplifting song for bad times then, and even worse times now. The achingly sad break-up song What Do I Do Now followed and sounded beautiful -  and then the far more bitter break-up song More Than I Do gave the band a chance to fully let loose with an impressive sonic assault on our ear drums, Louise adding the post script "Wishing you all happy marriages."

In the home stretch, Sleeper gave us a gorgeous version of Statuesque - described by Loise as "our most Blondie-ish song" - and then an actual Blondie song, their cracking take on Atomic, with a bit of JD's Love Will Tear Us Apart thrown into the mix for good measure. And, after a stripped-back Vegas, they finished with - of course! - indie anthem Inbetweener. So, another fantastic performance from Sleeper and a fun night out in the big city for us Shire folks. I also had time for a quick chat with blogger extraordinaire and gig-going machine David Rose - always lovely to see him.

On the 3rd October, Sarah and I made our way to Bristol again, this time to the O2 Academy for our second viewing this year of Leeds guitar abusers The Wedding Present. Unfortunately, we got there too late to see support band Mozart Estate, who apparently feature the semi-legendary Lawrence from indie also-rans Felt. We were, however, well in time to see the also semi-legendary Weddoes - and that's just how main man David Gedge described his band - I'd drop the "semi-" from that description, personally. Still celebrating their 40th year, the band were this time playing a selection of songs from their entire back catalogue... in reverse order, starting with newie Two For The Road and then my fave, I Am Not Going To Fall In Love With You. And that was a pretty groovy start to a very punchy and hard-edged set. 

As I've only recently become a proper Weddoes fan, I'm not too familiar with the far reaches of their vast oeuvre ( first time I've used that word, I believe ) but what I've heard I definitely appreciate. The set continued with the gorgeous Rachel ( the song, that is, not the equally gorgeous Rachael who plays a mean guitar at the right hand side of The Boy Gedge ) which has quickly become a real favourite for me. This one was a brief foray into the softer side of the band's sound, before the full sonic attack continued with the likes of Deer Caught In The Headlights ( "Maybe you're just too pretty for me" ) and Kansas, with Flying Saucer bringing some exuberant power-pop vibes. Brassneck and Kennedy caused outbreaks of middle-aged moshing but I was being sensible / boring, so stuck in my same spot and maybe just tapped my foot a bit more vigorously. Rock 'n' roll or what? 

At one point, Gedge waxed lyrical over Rachael's prowess ( ooh, er! ) by attempting to adapt the old "Ringo wasn't even the best drummer in The Beatles" joke to his own guitar-playing. The joke didn't actually work and, anyway, he is a bloody good guitarist. So there. Into the home stretch and the Weddoes pulverised their guitars through a run of possibly some of the best indie-pop love songs you'll ever hear: Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft / A Million Miles / My Favourite Dress and then a final screech through their first single Go Out And Get 'Em Boy. Yet another fine set by the reinvigorated, refuelled, refreshed Wedding Present - long may they unwrap their sonic gifts for us!

Moving on to some time perilously close to the present day ( hard to believe for this blog, right? ), in fact Saturday the 29th of November, Sarah and I travelled with our good friend Tom ( blog mastermind of The Sensitive Bore fame ) to the fair city of Wolverhampton to see The Last Dinner Party. Tom and I had bought tickets to see them last year, but the gig was cancelled, so it was finally our chance to catch this much-praised and stratospherically successful band.

The venue was The Civic Hall, or rather University Of Wolverhampton at The Halls, to give the place its full, unwieldy title. This is the slightly posher cousin to the Wulfrun Hall, literally next door, and the venue where I'd previously seen The Dandy Warhols in 2008 and Courtney Barnett in 2015 ( again, with Tom - can't believe that was 10 years ago ). An impressive, 1930s-built venue with balconies, sloping floors and a big ol' stage, with a capacity of 3400 I believe. ( Thanks the internet. ) We'd got there quite early, so managed to check our coats ( horrible weather ), grab some drinks and make our way into the hall just as support band Imogen & The Knife ( above ) were starting their set.

Theirs was a slightly-too-lowkey-for-me indie sound, with hints of jazz and soul, courtesy of the sax & trumpet players. Imogen herself had a fine, if not too distinctive voice, while the songs themselves were a bit lacking in hooks. I may sound negative here but the second half of the set was a definite improvement, with some livelier songs and more oomph! from the band ( technical term ), and the Wolverhampton crowd certainly gave them a lot of love. I'd be interested to see if they can run with the more upbeat stuff in the future. My enjoyment of the performance was also hampered by a couple of Brummie blokes behind me who talked all through the bloody set and were really pissing me off. Go to the bar if you want to do that...

There followed probably a little too much art-pop intermission music ( Brian Eno, Scott Walker, you know the kind of thing ) and then it was time for some baroque 'n' roll with The Last Dinner Party! The never-knowingly-overdressed band came onto the stage in their frocks, capes and smashing blouses and kicked off with the first track from their second album, Agnus Dei (  or "Lamb of God" to you ) and the crowd went nuts. In a polite kind of way.

"Oh, here comes the apocalypse / And I can't get enough of it."

From the very beginning, TLDP impressively set out their stall - hugely confident, maximalistic, '70s-tinged indie rock with beautiful vocal harmonies and theatrical stage moves. In these days of bands who look ( and often sound ) like estate agents, these ladies ( and non-binary people ) are a refreshingly individual group, who go their own way. ( A little nod there to one of their obvious inspirations, the mighty Fleetwood Mac. ) And they're posh girls with guitars which always works for me.

Count The Ways, with its excellent blend of hard riffing and sweet '70s pop, carried on the momentum of the set, running into two of my TLDP faves: feminist anthem The Feminine Urge ( "I am a dark red liver stretched out on the rocks" ) and the world-conquering Caesar on a TV Screen. The pace slowed for the beautiful ballad By Your Side, with Abigail Morris' vocals enveloping the audience in a warm hug. This hug may have been too much for some of the crowd, as the band had to stop playing on no less than three separate occasions, due to "medical emergencies" in the audience. I can understand that the band were looking out for their fans, some of whom were said to be dehydrated ( in November? ), but the third person to cause this halt to the proceedings was just pissed and had to be led out of the hall by a mate. How these people would cope at a Punk gig, Christ knows...

These interruptions did affect the flow of the set, especially when the band literally had to restart songs, but they soon got their teeth back into it and carried on regardless. I mentioned their vocal harmonies before, and it's really a bonus to see a band with three fantastic singers ( keyboard player Aurora & guitarist Lizzie also sing ) who can not only harmonise beautifully, but also take the lead and be just as good as the nominal lead singer. The psych-folk of Woman Is A Tree was a stunning showcase for their vocal gymnastics and the Albanian-language Gjuha brought Aurora's gorgeous voice to the fore, while the stately ballad Sail Away hushed the audience as Abigail weaved her spell over us. 

But it wasn't all breathless loveliness, as the band came together to rock out on new song Big Dog, a huge squall of AC/DC riffing and high kicking, reminding us that this music isn't just owned by macho blokes, but is open for all to grab hold of and kick ass.

After finishing the set with a thrilling four song suite of Sinner / My Lady of Mercy / Inferno / Nothing Matters, the band encored with ( relatively ) new song This Is The Killer Speaking, a massive singalong anthem that's quickly achieved its final song status, and had everyone singing, shouting, clapping, dancing, doing whatever the hell they wanted. A cracking finish to an energising, enervating performance that had overcome any hiccups and showed just what an accomplished, engaging and powerful band TLDP have become in a very short space of time. I'm so glad Tom and I finally got to see them, and I think they converted Sarah too. Definitely one of my favourite gigs of the year!

And so, on to my last gig of the year - 20th December at my spiritual home, the Gloucester Guildhall ( where else? ) and The Beat feat. Ranking Jnr.

It's always a treat to see Mathew Murphy ( aka Ranking Jnr ) and the band he's inherited from his late dad, the legendary Ranking Roger. We hadn't seen them since another Guildhall gig in 2024, so we were excited to catch up with their soulful, skankin' sound. Sarah and I were both suffering with colds but we didn't let that stop us...

Unfortunately, the gig was delayed due to problems with the bass guitar. We waited and we waited, the audience getting more annoyed ( and vocal ) as the time dragged on. In the end, the band resorted to sending someone out to borrow a guitar from a local musician and then, after an hour's delay, the gig finally began. Many of the audience members had left by this point, but we stuck it out, and we were glad we did.

Even with a truncated, hour-long set, The Beat still shone their light of positivity and good vibes over the depleted audience. Some classic songs were necessarily omitted from the set, but the band still gave us fantastic versions of Twist & Crawl, Stand Down Margaret, Hands Off... She's Mine, Carry The Flag ( dedicated, as ever to Ranking Roger senior ) and - of course - Mirror In The Bathroom. Ranking Jnr was his usual, ebullient, upbeat self, and the band were smoking hot, even given the technical difficulties. 

So, after the initial problems, it was a great gig, The Beat's summery ska dispelling for a brief time the cold of a December evening in the Shire. A lovely final gig of the year, sending us out into the crisp air with smiles on our faces. 

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EMF at Cindyfest 2025

A shameful three weeks late ( typically poor service from yer humble blogger ), but it's time to visit the deep, dark depths of the Forest Of Dean for the cultural event known as Cindyfest. It's a festival. In Cinderford. It's Cindyfest. To be honest, even though I live about half an hour away from Cinderford, I'd never heard of this mini festival before - but this year it saw the triumphant homecoming gig for those ravetastic Forest scamps EMF which made it a must.

This was our third EMF gig in the last 7 or so months and we were definitely up for seeing them again, even though we were all sweltering through a prolonged heatwave. Sarah had been a bit dubious about going out in the heat, but I convinced her it would be cooler in the evening, we'd be fine etc. We actually left home at 7:30 in the evening and, even at that time, it was a sticky 32 degrees in the shade. Phew! A pint of cider definitely helped, as seen above. You can also see a blue plaque which had been awarded to the EMF boys for services to music which was very proudly displayed on the clock tower in their hometown. And, in front of that clock tower, was a stage...

After we'd run the security gauntlet into the beating heart ( or *bleating heart* - little Forest joke there ) of the town, we had a quick cone of chips ( how '70s! ), caught half of support band Vendetta Deluxe's set ( very old school New Wave ) and then the Forest Posse themselves emerged to thunderous applause and drunken cheers. They start early in the FOD. After the now inevitable intro from Cinderford town crier Jer Holland ( whose voice almost conked out during his cry... ) the band kicked into The Day The Music Died ( "You kept it alive" ) and the party started.

Well, to be honest, after that first song the set was a bit lacklustre for a while, with some sound problems and lack of focus affecting I Believe and Lies - two old favourites that didn't really ignite. Then EMF wheeled out new song Hands In The Air which seemed to reinvigorate them. This song, which had premiered on their recent US tour, sounds like it should be just a happy-clappy Rave anthem but is actually deeper than it at first seems and is clearly about the ongoing erosion of democracy in the Land of the Free ( as was ) by that orange lunatic they call President.

Following this with a hypnotic Getting Through ( see hypnotised crowd above ), they then launched into Reach For The Lasers - their hymn to old school ravers and DJs - and the crowd went nuts. Sarah and I got our glow-sticks out ( of course! ) and bounced along to this newly-minted classic, and the whole of Cinderford sang their lungs out to the mid-song medley of iconic dance choons: Gonna Make You Sweat / Pump Up The Jam / Breathe / Blue Monday - just wonderful, life-affirming stuff. Frontman James Atkin, resplendent in his "Life Ruined My Drugs" T-shirt did his familiar spiel about the band not being the energetic young pups they used to be ( who is? ) and said they "don't get out much". Apart from the US tour... and the upcoming double-headline tour with Jesus Jones. Sorry, James, but we're not falling for it - there's plenty of life left in the old EMF dog yet.

As the set built and built, with the likes of Children ( love, love, love that song! ) and a majestic ( and appropriate ) Long Summer Days sounding magnificent, it was clear the band were overwhelmed at the reception they were getting from their hometown crowd. James and guitarist Ian Dench both reminisced about the early days of the band, their rise to stardom, and the support they've always had from the FOD fans. It was enough to bring a lump to the throat of any old raver. ( And, no, that wasn't just a dodgy disco biscuit going down the wrong way. )

The inevitable Unbelievable and Neil Diamond / Vic Reeves banger I'm A Believer whipped the crowd up into a Forest frenzy before the epic set closer, Inside, finished us all off. So to speak.

But there was more yet to come. The band came back out to encore with their rapturously-received Depeche Mode cover, I Just Can't Get Enough ( not really sure why they play this, but it's great fun ), and the obligatory Rave anthem that is E.M.F itself:

"E! Ecstasy! M! From my mind to my feet! F! From us to you!" ( And that's the clean version. )

One of the great things about this performance was seeing keyboard player Derry Brownson back with the band. He's been off for a while with a serious illness but the crowd were overjoyed to see him on stage and he took the spotlight for the rap on E.M.F. 

Also sharing the spotlight were young members of the EMF family who came out to dance and take the final bows with the band. There was also a bloke in a dinosaur costume, as seen above, menacing James from the edge of the stage. It was that kind of night.

Another fantastic night out with the Forest boys, my fifth time seeing them in fact. Their homecoming had been ( yes, I'm going to say it ) unbelievable.

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.