The Skids at The Brook, Southampton and the Guildhall, Gloucester

Over a couple of weekends in February I've been privileged to see one of my absolute fave live bands put on two cracking gigs in two great venues. I'm talking of course of the mighty Skids, improbably but wonderfully reborn and reinvigorated for the 21st century. My friends in Borrowed Time had supported Richard Jobson and co. on half a dozen dates of this tour and so, when I was asked if I wanted to go down to Southampton in the van with the BT boys, I couldn't say no. ( Well, I say "boys" but the lovely Helen was driving the van and running the merch stall too. What a star! )

The Brook in Southampton was a cool venue  -  an old pub converted into an events space, deceptively large inside with a strangely hipster-friendly bar upstairs. I helped Borrowed Time load their gear into the venue and then we had the pleasure of watching Dunfermline's legendary Skids doing their soundcheck ( see photo above ). After a bit of instrumental noodling and setting levels on the mixing desk, Jobbo came onto the stage, gave my mate Glenn a quick salute, and then they were straight down to business.They played a spine-tingling version of the epic Arena and then a jaw-dropping cover of Bowie's "Heroes"  -  it was a special moment, a real privilege to see and hear ahead of the actual gig. Below are Cliff and Glenn from Borrowed Time, being heroes, just for one day...

After a quick trip to a local American-themed fast food joint for a tasty veggie burger and cheesy chips ( this is life on the road, folks! ) I had a very brief chat with Skids guitarist Jamie Watson and then headed back to The Brook to see Borrowed Time kick off the evening. ( Literally. Rob was doing high kicks all over his limited space on the cramped stage. )

The BT boys were on fine form  -  in fact, this was possibly the best gig I've seen them play. The almost constant gigging has paid off and they are now tighter and more professional than ever. They went down a storm with the Southampton audience who clamoured for signed CDs after the gig which must have made the band feel like they'd finally hit the big time. It was a lot of fun, especially for me and Helen who were down the front as the only representatives of the band's home fanbase, and could see how engaged the Soton punks were with the set. Glenn even dedicated the song Oceans to me. Which was nice.

And then it was time for the main event. The traditional back-masked burbling of Peaceful Times heralded the appearance of The Skids who hit the stage running with the powerful punch of Animation, followed by the stop-start lunacy that is Of One Skin. The crowd went absolutely nuts for this one which really set the tone for the evening.

The audience was a seething mass of excitement ( no, really! ) as the band pummelled us with such titanic, singalong classics as Hurry On Boys, Working For The Yankee Dollar and The Saints Are Coming, while also dropping in a couple of crowd-pleasing songs from their comeback album, Kings Of The New World Order and One Last Chance. Jobbo was his usual ebullient, entertaining self, telling his tall tales of 1970s celebrity encounters ( TOTP, DLT. Pan's People, Saville ) and praising the previous night's audience in Swansea ( "Say what you like about the Welsh, they can fuckin' SING!" ) while challenging us to do better. Well, we certainly tried if my totally knackered voice the next morning was anything to go by.

Highlights of the set were a majestic version of A Woman In Winter ( my all-time fave Skids song ), a bruising, set-closing Out Of Town and the obligatory shout-along of TV Stars  -  Albert Tatlock!
TBH I could have done without the pointless cover version medley of Pretty Vacant and What Do I Get? ( which at least had some relevance when I saw them last, a couple of days after Pete Shelley died ) but the Southampton crowd loved that cheesy slice of Punk karaoke. And it was more than compensated for by two showings for the rollercoaster melancholy ( is there such a thing? ) of The Saints Are Coming, half way through the set and then again as an extra encore, Jobbo leading the crowd a capella -style through its mighty chorus.
This was a cracking gig  -  maybe my fave Skids performance and certainly the one to beat this year for any other band. It was loud, it was sweaty, I got covered in beer and pushed around... and I loved it! All too soon it came to an end, we hung around and chatted for a while ( briefly with Skids bass player, the legendary Bill Simpson ), loaded the gear back into the van, and then set off back to the Shire. It had been a truly wonderful day  -  thanks to Borrowed Time!

And a week later we did it all again, this time in my favourite venue the Gloucester Guildhall! ( As much as I love it, the Guildhall has gone down in my estimation over the last couple of years for relying heavily on dodgy tribute bands. Hopefully this Skids gig was evidence that there's still room for "proper" bands. ) This was intended as the final night of the tour, which made it very special, but another date had been added in Colchester which slightly undermined the Gloucester gig  -  and meant a lot more driving for the Skids tour mini-bus! Anyway, the buzz of anticipation was loud as I reached the Guildhall and located the BT boys, working their way through the backstage "rider". And this excitement had also brought many "old" faces from the local scene out for the night: the mighty Mark B ( my former comrade in the Death Planet Commandos), Andy K ( Demob / Noise Agents ), Baz ( Noise Agents / Borrowed Time ), those Bristol girls Nicky & Lindsey, Tony The Nose, Jamie & Sarah, Ben R ( Chinese Burn legend! ) and many more. It was great to see so many lovely people turn out for The Skids... and Borrowed Time...

There had been a few nerves in the BT camp ahead of this gig  -  the pressure was on as it was their first home town gig in some while and many contemporaries were there to see them  -  but I'm glad to say that ( apart from a couple of bum notes ) the boys smashed it! Songs like Bad Stranger, Under The Radar and The Day We Broke The World went down a treat with the Skids fans, and singer Rob was in fine, cocky form  -  throwing his disgusting socks into the audience and throwing some Yoga shapes on stage, while baiting fans from the Forest Of Dean: "Is there anyone in from the Forest tonight? Yeah? Thank God, I thought it was the drains." And they still made it out alive!
So, a triumphant last night of the tour for the guys. Glenn has said to me on more than one occasion "How did we get here? Who thought we'd end up supporting The Skids in our 50s?" It just shows that talent and hard work pay off even if you're living on borrowed time...

And then it was Skids time! Fife's finest came out to a rapturous welcome from the usually reserved Gloucester audience and went straight into Animation and Of One Skin. Yeah... the set was almost identical to the week before ( as well as a lot of Jobbo's patter ) which was fine because, hey it's The Skids!, but it did make things a bit predictable... here come the new songs, here's the Leo Sayer reference, here's the point where Jobbo introduces the band and calls guitarist Jamie "Ed Sheeran" and so on. It's a minor grumble because the band's performance was out of this world and the Guildhall did them proud with excellent sound and lighting, as ever.
One of the highlights of the gig was spotting fellow blogger David of David Rose's Gig Diaries fame in the crowd. I've been following David's excellent blog for a few years now and it was a pleasure to meet him at last. We managed to chat a bit during the mayhem and hopefully we'll catch up at other gigs further down the road.

( This photo above captures Bruce and Jamie Watson just before one of their Thin Lizzy-like double guitar showdowns. Which are awesome! )
After playing solid gold hits like Circus Games, Masquerade and ( of course! ) Into The Valley the
band played a glorious Scared To Dance, as the 23rd of February was 40 years to the day that the album was released. They then went one further and floored us all by dropping the set-listed Happy To Be With You and pulling out their cover of "Heroes"  -  which was just sublime. A wonderful moment in a wonderful night. And after a final, bruising reprise of Of One Skin, in which I got crushed against the stage barrier by the rabid crowd and unfortunately lost track of David, The Skids were gone.
I said a few words to some of the lovely people there who were similarly knocked out by the bands' performances and then headed for home, tired but happy. What a gig! In fact, what a pair of gigs!

Things I Didn't Blog About In 2018 Part One: Stones, Skids, Seaweed

Yes, it's that time of year when I look back at the previous 365+ days of my time on this planet and, without any apparent shame, post stuff that would have been more useful if actually posted during that year of which we speak. Or something. Starting with the invasion of these terrifying, tentacled creatures which brought a Cthulhu-like creeping dread to the inhabitants of the South-West of England last December...

Okay, it's actually a load of seaweed washed up at Portmellon Cove in Cornwall... but it looks pretty Lovecraftian to me. Sarah and I had a long weekend down in the nearby fishing village of Mevagissey, during which we came across all this weed which had washed up right over the sea-wall at Portmellon and onto the road. ( We also had a very good roast dinner in the local pub. Seaweed wasn't on the menu. Or the floor. )
Although the weather was mostly grim ( well, it was December! ) we had a great time down in our beloved Cornwall, in a lovely little old-school B&B, and this was the gorgeous view from the terrace outside our bedroom:

Beyond Mevagissey we took a long walk through some fields to get to the idyllic Chapel Cove, where we spent some time watching seals basking on a nearby beach. ( I didn't get any pics of this since my phone's camera wouldn't have done it justice, but I did get some nice shots of the cove itself, chapel and all. )

It was a short but sweet visit to Cornwall, book-ended by a couple of adventures on Bodmin Moor. Here's what a traffic-jam looks like near Colliford Lake:

"Get off my mmmmoooorrr!"

Elsewhere in December, things got rather loud...

The mighty Skids were playing in Bristol again, this time in a venue new to me  -  Fiddler's, a former prison (!) just outside the city centre in Bedminster. Since this was only a 20-minute walk from Sophie's house she came along with me for a night of punk rock 'n' roll. I'm not sure she really knew what she was in for...

First up were those Borrowed Time boys, bringing their distinctive brand of metalpunk to the good people of Bedminster. They've been gigging almost constantly lately and, as a result, seem to get tighter ( and louder! ) each time I see them. They played a short, punchy set which was great fun but, like the whole gig, was unfortunately over-shadowed by the death of the great Pete Shelley the previous week. BT singer Rob gave a brief but heartfelt speech about Shelley which encapsulated everyone's sadness at this great singer's untimely demise. Borrowed Time were followed by the awful, Oi!-ful Knock Off, shouting at us about beer and football in their turgid, sub-Cockney Rejects manner, which at least gave me and Sophie the chance to go and have a chat with a few friends at the BT merch stall. And then one of the best live bands around came and saved us...

The Skids are definitely on a roll after playing many, many well-received gigs up and down the country and releasing the fine new album Burning Cities. Although, apparently, they will soon be going on hiatus again as a full band and just performing acoustic sets??? No idea why. Anyway, they tore the roof off Fiddler's with a muscular, anthemic set... maybe not as jaw-dropping as when I saw them at the late, lamented Bristol Bierkeller, but damn good all the same. All the faves were there  -  Into The Valley ( of course! ), Animation, Woman In Winter, Masquerade and even a brief stab at early single Sweet Suburbia. Richard Jobson was, as usual, the focal point: whirling, shadow-boxing, singing his lungs out and telling outrageous stories between the songs. ( But, Richard... please don't attempt that Forest Of Dean accent again. It really didn't work. ) The band were on fine form, tight, enthusiastic and as loud as a jet engine. In fact, this sheer volume, coupled with the extremely boisterous crowd proved too much for Sophie ( who's more used to the more genteel surroundings of musical theatre ) and we had to sit out the end of the set, including a poignant cover of Buzzcock's What Do I Get and ( for some reason ) an impromptu cover of Pretty Vacant. Still, it had been a great gig and a chance to catch up with some mates, and Sophie and I had a good time, walking and chatting to and from the venue. ( And a nice meal earlier that night in a cool, American-style diner. )
Borrowed Time will be supporting The Skids again next month at the good ol' Gloucester Guildhall. I'll be there! Can't wait!

In other December news I turned ( New ) 52. Yep, it was time to celebrate another 12 months in this crazy old universe and we headed to darkest Wiltshire to commune with the spirits in the stones at myth-shrouded Avebury. ( How's that for purple prose? ) Here's James standing next to an ancient, craggy, weather-beaten monument. And one of the Avebury stones. ( Of course, Sarah was here too but behind the camera. )

By sheer coincidence you can see a might fine comic strip over at the multi-talented Pete Doree's Kids From Rec. Road blog which uses some of my photos from a previous visit to Avebury.
( Actually it's not a coincidence at all... ) You might want to head over there to enjoy Pete's reminiscences of the sheer terror of that legendary '70s kids' TV serial Children Of The Stones  -  you know... the one that traumatised an entire generation. Just don't blame me if you have nightmares after recalling that slice of kid-unfriendly Folk Horror. Happy Day...

The Skids at the Bristol Bierkeller

Things have been very quiet on the blogging front here at TGW-S recently for no real reason, so I thought I'd better try and catch up with a few recent events. First off  -  a truly fantastic gig by long-lost Punk heroes The Skids. I've been going to see bands since I was 14 years old, way back in the dark days of 1981, and I estimate in that time I've seen around 200 bands ( some multiple times ) but I have to say that this gig was truly, genuinely one of the best I've ever seen.
The Skids were one of the first Punk / New Wave bands I really got into, even though by the time this happened they were pretty much over  -  typical for me! They were quite a unique proposition at the time  -  a very young group of musicians from Dunfermline who played a very different, art-rock version of Punk. No three-chord thrashes here, but a multi-layered strangeness built on Stuart Adamson's unique guitar sound and Richard ( Jobbo ) Jobson's cryptic, poetic lyrics.

I bought the band's first three albums ( Scared To Dance, Days In Europa and The Absolute Game ) on second-hand vinyl and played them to death but The Skids had already split up. Jobbo, ever the aesthete, tried his hand at poetry, TV presenting, film directing and even had another shot at rock 'n' roll success with the short-lived Armoury Show. Adamson, however, founded Big Country who went on to briefly become one of the, er, biggest bands of the '80s with their epic, windswept Celtic rock. Tragically, Adamson committed suicide in 2001, another great musician sadly lost to alcoholism.
After all this I never expected to see The Skids live  -  they became just another lost band, their records remembered by the faithful few, occasionally popping up on repeats of Top Of The Pops on BBC 4. But then... it was the band's 40th anniversary ( this year! ) and, amazingly, a new tour was announced. I had to be there! I snapped up tickets for myself and my mate Glenn and we headed down to Bristol's dingy Bierkeller for one incredible gig...

( Apologies for the blurred photo  -  believe it or not, this was the best one I got! I've been suffering with sciatica lately so didn't want to get too close to the front and get caught in the crush. This goes against the grain for me but, for once, I was sensible and kept out of harm's way. )
We missed Charlie Harper's solo set ( not too upset... I've seen Charlie loads of times with the UK Subs ) but did manage to catch the legendary Tim"TV"Smith, former livewire leader of The Adverts. Tim was on top form, bashing away at his acoustic guitar as if his life depended on it, and singing his increasingly political anthems... on the eve of the disastrous General Election. He finished with some crowd-pleasing Adverts songs ( Gary Gilmore's Eyes, One Chord Wonders ) and then it was time for the main event.

Bounding out onto the stage ( well, Jobbo did ) The Skids plunged into first song Animation and the crowd, as they say, went wild. This track from Days In Europa set out the band's stall from the first minute: obscure lyrics wedded to massive, terrace-friendly tunes, plenty of "Whoa whoas" to sing along to, Jobbo's commanding stage presence and an absolutely note-perfect take on the original Skids sound. They then jumped straight into the stop-start lunacy of first-album cut Of One Skin  -  Glenn and I gave each other a look  -  a "this is going to be awesome" look, and it was. The band were clearly loving this as much as the audience. At one point Jobson confided that he'd been unsure about this reunion tour, wondering if The Skids were still wanted. I think he got his answer in Bristol. The cheers that greeted each song nearly blew the roof off the place as the band pulled classic anthem after classic anthem out of the bag. Circus Games, Out Of Town and Masquerade ( Jobbo's fave Skids song apparently ) were Punk / art / rock Godzillas, crushing all before them, and the segue from Melancholy Soldiers to Working For The Yankee Dollar was sublime and inspired. The avuncular and self-deprecating Jobson regaled us with a few tales from the old days ( like how he auditioned for the band and got the gig by telling the other applicants to "get tae fuck" ) and dedicated the beautiful Scared To Dance to his lost comrade, Stuart Adamson. This, coupled with a stunning version of A Woman In Winter, brought a tear to this hardened gigger's eye.

Although no-one could truly replace Stuart Adamson, his compatriot from Big Country, Bruce Watson, did a sterling job in recreating Adamson's  guitar sound, aided by his guitar-playing son Jamie Watson. Along with Skids stalwarts Bill Simpson and Mike Baillie they played with power, energy and subtlety, as though this band had been touring for years. And Jobbo was a legend! Constantly involving the audience, telling tales, cracking jokes, twirling and shadow-boxing around the stage like a man half his age, and booming out that still mighty voice, he was a delight to watch. I had a stupid grin plastered to my face for the entire set  -  just like the front man.
All too soon the gig came to a close with the inevitable TV Stars ( updated to include the names of Tory and UKip MPs  -  who didn't come off too well... ) and closing anthems ( there's that word again ) Into The Valley and Charade, with a final treat  -  a fine new song called World On Fire from their upcoming new ( NEW! ) album. What a fantastic gig! I think the real reason I loved it so much ( as I remarked to another blogger recently ) was that here was an absolutely cracking band playing beloved songs which I never, ever, thought I'd get to see played live.
World On Fire? Band On Fire!

Soundtrack: Come on! What do you think?