The 9th Doctor and Jimi Hendrix

No, that's not the pitch for a new Big Finish drama ( although that would be pretty groovy ) but actually a cosmic collision of 20th and 21st century pop culture we witnessed last weekend. We'd been visiting our good friend Tom ( of Tom Wiggins Blogs fame ) up in his leafy corner of the Cotswolds and had done all the usual stuff we do when we get together: investigate charity shops, talk about films, have a nice meal, plot the downfall of Western civilisation -  stuff like that, and had had a lovely day. On the way back to Tom's pad ( man ), we stopped off at Art & Talking, a hip and happening art gallery in Chipping Norton, or "Chippy" as we've learnt to call it. Tom is friends with the gallery's owner, and even has one of his own carved stone pieces on display there. As we walked down towards the gallery, we could hear music playing and I thought to myself ( who else am I going to think to? ) "that sounds like Jimi Hendrix"...

And, in fact, it was Hendrix. Not the man himself, obviously ( that would most definitely be blog-worthy ), but it was the psychedelic psounds of the Rainbow Bridge album emanating from a battered old stereo set up outside the gallery. The event we'd wandered into was centred around a Hendrix-themed triptych by Chilean artist Pato Bosich called Electric Altarpiece, see the far out photos below:

Some seriously cosmic artwork there, with loads of Hendrix Easter eggs for fans of the great man and the Hippy / Summer of Love era. it was a very chilled, relaxed event with gallery owner and certified character, Michael, chatting away with us and pouring free champagne. I mean, why not? At one point I was admiring the artwork and noticed there was a tall bloke standing next to me, engaged in deep conversation with Pato Bosich. I soon realised that tall bloke was the 9th Doctor himself, Christopher Eccleston. I knew he'd been seen around Chippy previously ( so I guess he must live locally ) but it was still surprising to find myself standing next to one of my favourite actors. When I had the chance, I managed to have a quick word with Chris - told him I was a fan and had a brief chat about legendary 1996 TV drama Our Friends In The North which was recently repeated on BBC 4. I knew he was very proud of that series and he instantly praised the writing by the show's creator, Peter Flannery. ( I intentionally didn't mention Doctor Who: I didn't want to come across as a gushing fanboy, and I'm sure he's talked about the show enough times to last many regenerations. ) He then thanked me for the kind words and said he had to step outside, then went back to mingling with the other punters. ( One in particular was very interested in him, but I don't think he was too bothered. )

I thought that was the end of my time with the iconic actor but, a bit later on, he came back into the gallery and I asked if he wouldn't mind posing for a photo with myself and Sarah. He very graciously agreed and Tom took the snap below. It was great to spend those few moments with Chris and he was lovely - very friendly and generous with his time. In fact, he was... fantastic!

RIP Calvin, The Canadian King of Coolness

 I was very upset over the weekend to hear that my old bloggin' buddy, Calvin Heighton, had sadly passed away. Cal was, of course, the long-time curator of Calvin's Canadian Cave of Cool, a monumental storehouse of pop culture goodness, featuring Cal's pithy observations and deep, abiding interests in dozens of esoteric subjects. Cal was a man who had opinions and arguments to spare - sometimes seemingly curmudgeonly and irascible, but with a heart as wide as the Canadian wilderness beneath the crusty ( and luxuriously bearded ) surface. The Cave of Cool was a constant source of entertainment and certainly one of my early inspirations in the world of blogging. He was also a great friend to this humble blog and was always very encouraging to my feeble efforts in this field.

Cal was, among many other things, a lover of felines, and his signature Cat Captions were always off-the-wall and hilarious. He very kindly added a few captions to some of our family's cat photos, a favourite being the one above from 2015 of our Jasper reclining in a very odd way on Sophie's bed. ( Her teenage comment was "Why is my cat being seductive?" )

Cal artwork by MD ( Mike ) Jackson

Sadly, about a year ago, the man who had seemed to be permanently posting something somewhere on the internet, dropped off the radar. The longer his silence continued, the more people became concerned. Although Cal had many, many friends in the virtual world, his own life was apparently a lonely one, and the sad passing of his mother must have only made things worse. We all feared the worst, enquiries were made, but The Cave of Cool appeared to have gone silent.

A few days ago, fellow blogger and Cal's comrade in their Balloon Juice podcast, MD Jackson, told us the sad news that Cal had passed away after a battle with the dreaded cancer. Mike said he'd reached out to the staff in the hospice where Cal spent his last weeks, and they'd passed on the well wishes and love from his legions of followers and admirers. We can only hope this gave him some comfort at the end. There's also a lovely obituary to Cal by fellow blogger Tim Knight here

So, farewell big man, farewell my Canadian brother - keep fighting the good fight in Valhalla!

And I'll finish with some words from the great man himself:

Calvin's Canadian Cave Of Cool Manifesto

I forever stand vigilant to protect this planet from the myriad of forces that are always against us. Be it the octopus, zombies, aliens or the robots my team of human agents, and our feline allies, circle the globe in a never ending struggle for human freedom.

Recent gigs: The Undercover Hippy, Ez Dickens & Kim Cypher

 Well, recent-ish, and continuing the theme of free and / or unexpected gigs - the best ones, as we know. ( With a side order of cultural appropriation and middle-class guilt. Who could refuse? )

Gig number one ( 25/04 ) ticked all the boxes by being free, unexpected and also bloody good fun. I'd been to the Fresh Art Fair at Cheltenham racecourse ( didn't buy anything because I would have had to sell at least one kidney to afford anything there ) and then took a walk through the lovely Pittville Park into Cheltenham town. I of course headed straight for HMV and was pleased to hear a band playing in there as I walked through the Regent Arcade. This turned out to be ace saxophonist Kim Cypher and her band laying down some cool jazz 'n' blues to a very appreciative audience of shoppers. They played some old familiar tunes ( and some not so ), including a ska version of Dave Brubeck's Take Five, probably inspired by The Skatalites. It was all very laid back and groovy and the band were excellent.

The other attraction was their accompanying dancers who were very stylishly cutting a rug on the rug-less HMV floor.

They were encouraging people to join in the festivities and the lovely Sandy ( in pink above ) even dragged me up on the impromptu dancefloor despite my protestations that I can't actually dance. I mean, why not? Sandy and her husband ( Billy? I think? ) were such a friendly, outgoing couple and it was great to chat briefly with them after the show. Kim Cypher ( such a cool name! ) and her band were playing the Cheltenham Jazz Festival that weekend and were drumming up support for their performance. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it, but it was a pleasure to see them play amongst the DVDs on a Saturday afternoon - a jazzy, summery delight in late Spring.

Gig number two ( 26/04 - yes, the next night ) was in the People's Republic of Stroud - the Prince Albert pub in Rodborough to be precise. This was again a free gig - perfect! Our good friend Caz ( hugely talented trombone player of Dub Catalyst fame ) had recently played gigs with both of that night's artistes so had blagged some complimentary tickets. Cheers Caz!

First up was some high-energy reggae / ska / hip-hop from the diminutive Ez Dickens. This was a very Stroud-y type of gig for the Stroud audience - old hippies, serious drinkers, students and white people with dreadlocks. The last, with its casual cultural appropriation, is always a bugbear of mine: dreads are so tied in with Jamaican / Rastafarian culture that it seems wrong to me for middle class Stroudies to be sporting them. And, to be honest, watching pale-skinned singers toasting in a faux West Indies patois is also slightly unsettling. That said, Ez and her band were very good at what they do i.e. getting the crowd dancing. They're a very tight, very focused unit with some almighty grooves and a cracking guitarist who's a dead ringer for Jason Momoa. Ez herself is a tightly-wound ball of energy and a natural-born performer. They went down a storm and the tiny pub was packed with happily skanking punters by the end of the set. Although slightly lacking in memorable choruses / hooks, their music was a danceable treat for the feet ( and the ears! ) and I'd definitely catch them again.

( To be honest, if you're talking cultural appropriation, Kim Cypher and her band were also doing a white take on an urban Black music, although this has become an accepted genre - food for thought. )

Then it was headliner time and The Undercover Hippy broke cover. Again, a bunch of white people playing Jamaican music, this time a more laidback, commercial pop-reggae, at times veering towards the dreaded Ed Sheeran end of the musical spectrum. Main man Billy Rowan is apparently a former Drum 'n' Bass DJ who picked up a backing band about 10 years ago and hit the festival circuit.

He started the gig with some strange "mobile phone call interrupting the gig" shenanigans but then got down to actually playing the songs. Well, mostly. After three or four of his Police-meets-UB40 skanking tunes, he stopped the gig dead to talk passionately about the appalling situation in Gaza and about the band's support for a young musician out there. This was all very worthy and I certainly can't argue with the sentiments, but it completely lost the momentum of the gig. Reggae has always been a very political music and Rowan is clearly committed to the cause, but I just think he could have integrated the polemic and the music a bit more seamlessly. The song We Are Not Numbers ( about the people of Palestine ) was very moving and had a definite Punk edge to it... but really the music spoke more eloquently than the speeches.

As the gig went on, the music began to feel subservient to the message as Rowan again stopped the gig for more talk. If anything, this reminded me of seeing Anarchist Punk bands back in the day, where you felt like you were being lectured to and there would be homework set at the end of the gig. ( And, considering some things Caz told us about the experience of supporting The Undercover Hippy at previous gigs, a lot of this rang quite hollow. ) The middle-class guilt factor was in full force here.

At the end of the set, Rowan pulled it out of the bag and brought out a couple of more successful, upbeat songs which had people filling the pub again, after the longeurs of the gig had sent a few people back to the bar. I think this music would make more sense in a late afternoon festival slot, where you could tap your toes in the sunshine, drink cider, and wait for the headliners...

So, a pretty decent gig but I definitely preferred the less self-conscious support band to the main act. And I never did find out why he's called The Undercover Hippy...

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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Recent-ish gigs: Snow Patrol, The Script & St Vincent

Statistics! Get yer gig statistics here! Two weeks, three gigs, two venues, five friends, four free tickets ( the best kind of tickets ). Sarah and I had a short breather after the spectacular Pulp gig in Glasgow, then we were back to the gigging life. Two shows we'd planned and one out of the blue, all cracking gigs.

First up was the unexpected one. I got a message on a random Tuesday afternoon that a friend of Sophie's had spare tickets to Snow Patrol at Westonbirt Arboretum that night, and would we like to go? I'd seen SP way back in 2004 at the V Festival ( who remembers that? ) and hadn't been overly impressed, but I knew that Sarah really likes them so obviously we said yes. A quick rush home after work, a bit of a faff with the tickets, and then we were racing ( kind of ) up into the Cotswolds to the leafy environs of Tetbury. And then we slooooooooooooowed down as we hit some humongous traffic, and crawled the last mile or so to the venue. As a result, we missed both support bands, but still managed to get into the Arboretum with time enough to spare to see the headliners.

Nestled amongst the beautiful trees, the main arena of the venue reminded me very much of the Wychwood Festival - a family-friendly affair with various food outlets around the perimeter and ( far too bloody many ) camping chairs as far as the eye could see. We wormed our way into the heart of the crowd, to paraphrase Magazine ( or slightly to the right of the stage to be accurate ), and then it was time for Gary Lightbody and friends to bring us their Celtic soft-indie-rock. They kicked off with probably their liveliest song, Take Back the City, all angular guitars and whoa-whoa-whoa hooks, making quite a confident entrance. More mellow singalong indie followed in the form of Chocolate and I began to think I'd been too harsh on Snow Patrol back in the day. Sarah says I've probably mellowed with age, but I'm not so sure. To be honest, lots of music sounds better when played live, adding another dimension, and I'm happy to see most bands and give them a go. Except Tom Jones, obviously.

Lightbody was a friendly, upbeat frontman with a definite case of what Dylan Moran would call "Irish hair" and a laid-back style of patter. He admitted: "We're going to play some old songs and some new songs tonight, but don't panic - you'll know a lot of them. And if you don't know the next one, we're fooked..." The next song being, of course, epic indie torch song Run - which everybody knew and we all sang along to. Which was nice.

While not the most visually dynamic of bands ( they just get on with it and play the songs, which is fine ), Snow Patrol's screens displayed some cool images to counterpoint the music, especially the below fiery trees which were certainly appropriate. I mean, the event was called Forest Live after all. And the band's new album is called The Forest Is The Path. It all ties together really.

After Shut Your Eyes and Open Your Eyes ( will you make up your mind, Gary? ) and an epic Crack The Shutters, we were into the home straight with the even-more-epic Chasing Cars, the emotional highlight of the evening, all the crowd singing and swaying along as one. You could make the case that Snow Patrol are very derivative - a bit of U2 here, a lot of Coldplay there, even a dash of Big Country - but they're adept at making this stuff sound their own and can definitely engage an audience. Lightbody himself has a less-is-more, soulful vocal style, touched with his NI inflections, and a cheeky grin when bounding around the stage with his bandmates. The main set finished with You're All I Have, probably the rockiest song they've got and a fine, surging anthem. They came back out for a couple of encores, finishing with the windswept Just Say Yes, a hymn to positivity which had us all bouncing up and down on the grass: "Show me a garden that's bursting into life" and, yes, we did.

So, actually, a great set and I really enjoyed it. Surprisingly. And Sarah was very happy to have finally seen Snow Patrol. All that was left was to grab an overpriced but pretty decent hotdog and then sit and wait for the interminable queues to die down then head for home then get back at 1am then go to sleep for about 4 1/2 hours then go to work. Phew!

And then, five days later, we were back at Forest Live again for another band from the Emerald Isle, in this case the Republic's premier pop purveyors The Script. Not that I'd really appreciated who they were prior to this. Our good friends Kevin and Lynn had surprised me a few months ago by saying they'd bought tickets for a gig and we were all going. Apart from taking Kev to see Dexy's many years ago, we'd never been to see bands with them before, so it sounded like good fun. Kev then revealed it was... The Script!!! ( Like that, after an imaginary drumroll. ) I must have looked non-plussed, not really knowing who that was, so Kev said "You know, their singer was a judge on The Voice?" Nope, don't watch stuff like that. The poor bloke must have been disappointed at my reaction, ungrateful git that I am, but I said we'd be happy to give it a go. Especially because the tickets were a gift lol. ( I'm not really as mercenary as that... or am I? ) I've known Kev since I was 5-years old, so all this was in good humour.

We got to the Arboretum earlier this time, so there was less queueing and Kev's cheeky parking skills meant we were handy for the exit for later. And then in we went. After some food, drink and chat we caught the support act, Tom Walker. To be honest, I didn't pay him much attention. His singer-songwriter vibes and impressive voice & beard were fine, but it was all a bit too bland and mainstream for me. He's obviously talented but not my cup of rosy lee. We made our way down to the front ( well, as close as the others wanted to go ) and, after a slight disagreement with a lady in a camping chair who thought she owned the field, it was time for the headliners.

The Script came on to some wild applause and cheering from the surprisingly all-ages crowd, and some polite clapping from us non-fans. They set out their stall with their first song, the piano-led soft rock of Superheroes, and proceeded to win over the crowd, and even us newbies. Although their music is more mainstream ( there's that word again! ) than the stuff I'd usually listen to, it was certainly impressive with its uplifting, communal spirit and catchy ( hey, it's pop! ) choruses. Danny O'Donoghue ( he used to be on The Voice, you know ) was a hugely entertaining frontman - energetic, positive and talkative, with a very strong voice and an often confessional approach to interacting with the crowd.

Second song, Rain, didn't bode well for the evening, as clouds were already starting to form, but the likes of Six Degrees of Separation and mega-hit The Man Who Can't Be Moved ( even I'd heard that one! ) kept the precipitation at bay for a while with their sunny energy. The Script seem to have mastered that classic pop thing of singing very upbeat songs with often melancholy lyrics and that counterpoint really worked.

At one point, things got serious as Danny talked about their former guitarist, Mark Sheehan, who sadly died a couple of years ago. He'd been a founder member of the band and his loss obviously hit them hard. Danny also mentioned his upbringing, his dad ( If You Could See Me Now was dedicated to him ), and previous battles with alcohol abuse. This confessional side to the show was a very heartfelt flipside to the glitzier, showbiz aspects of the performance. Meanwhile, the light entertainment side of the band came out as Danny plucked a girl from the crowd for her Dancing In The Dark moment and sat her down by his side at the piano. He asked her to play one, final, note on the piano at the end of a song, and then danced around the stage with her. She was clearly in seventh heaven, while other girls in the audience could be seen to seethe with envy. The Script finished the set with singalong anthem For The First Time, the rain now properly coming down, but we were having a great time so it didn't really matter. 

And talking of singalongs, the encores of Breakeven and Hall of Fame had the whole field bellowing out the words and dancing in the rain, and were a poptastic pair of songs to conclude the evening. It had been a fun night with some great friends and the musical accompaniment had been much more enjoyable than I'd expected. We got out of the venue amazingly quickly, due to Kev's previously-mentioned parking strategy, and headed for home. Sarah and I both had the next day off work, so had plenty of time to chill out, whereas Kevin and Lynn were up at 7 am the next day to catch a flight to Jamaica - no rest for the wicked.

A very different gig next: the incomparable St Vincent at the O2 Institute in Birmingham...

I'd missed St Vincent when she last stopped in the UK ( two sold out gigs last year ) so, when I heard she was playing some additional dates on her All Born Screaming tour, I jumped at the chance to secure some tickets. I persuaded my good friend Tom to come along too. We'd previously seen Annie Clark aka St Vincent in a swelteringly-hot Oxford O2 three years ago almost to the day and it had been a revelation - one of the loudest, sweatiest, funkiest ( is that a word? ) gigs I'd ever experienced. Could she do it again? Let's find out...

Tom very kindly drove us up to Brum and, after a pretty easy journey, we parked at the Bull Ring and made our way to the O2 Institute. Situated on the grimier edge of town, it's a venue that's out on a limb ( opposite a coach station and a large derelict area ) but inside reveals itself to be a lovely old theatre. Very similar in fact to the Manchester Apollo, although not as large. I'd seen The Dandy Warhols there a few years back but had kind of forgotten it. We grabbed a quick Subway and ate by the kerbside like a pair of urchins, then went inside to catch support act Cult Of Venus - not an actual cult, you'll be glad to hear. Actually, this was a one-woman act in the form of a mysterious, unnamed singer and multi-instrumentalist ( seriously, try and Google her... ) who built up songs from triggered samples and drumbeats and then played guitar and keyboards over top. ( A bit like Ed Sheeran, then... but luckily not in any other way. ) Her music had a pleasingly retro '80-style vibe, while her vocals often had a hint of Country and she could certainly hit some impressively long notes. ( Funnily enough, Tom and I had been talking about Country on the journey - he's a real fan. ) Cult Of Venus definitely made a big impression on the audience ( one of the best reactions I've seen to a support act ) and songs like Sinner and Algorithm mark her out as one to watch. 

St Vincent and her band then came out onto the stage and the crowd lost their shit, as I believe da yoof would say. Starting with the slowly building Reckless, they showed us just how intense and loud the set was going to be. After the funk and '70s rock of the Daddy's Home album, the material from All Born Screaming is a lot more abrasive and gutsy, and this band played like their lives depended on it. I was particularly glad to see ace guitarist Jason Falkner and the keyboard player ( Rachel? I think? ) from the previous iteration of Annie's band were back and were kicking all kinds of arse.

Annie then dipped back into the Masseduction era with two of her sleek, robo-pop classics - Fear The Future and Los Ageless - now retooled for this grungier sound. And they were gigantic. For most of the set she was wielding her guitar like a sonic meat-cleaver, chopping out the heavy, heavy sounds and indulging in some tongue-in-cheek guitar duels with a clearly delighted Falkner. Broken Man was, if anything, even heavier with St Vincent throwing herself and her guitar around the stage, chasing down the soundwaves. As before, her performance was theatrical, physical and playful, including some of her being-held-up-above-the-crowd moves ( see above ) and speaker-stack-climbing ( see above above ) - leading Tom to say "I think she's possessed". We decided it was our job, as an audience, to help exorcise her, if only for one night.

Pay Your Way In Pain, Flea and Big Time Nothing were jerky, funky treats, while a gorgeous New York showcased Annie's silky vocals which often got buried in the sonic overload. She addressed the current state of the world in general, and America in particular, in a surprisingly positive way: 

"You know, I have a lot of hope. I do. I think we're going to be alright. And you know why? Because we take care of each other." Let's hope so.

This whole show was intense, extreme and noisy, but still thrilling and joyful - the audience were wild for it throughout and you could tell St Vincent and her band were vibing off the crowd's energy, feeding it back and looping it around. I honestly think she's become one of my all-time favourite performers... and this after only seeing two of her gigs. Annie's really that special.

The main set finished with All Born Screaming itself, the band all singing the oh so melancholy chorus ( melanchorus? ) like angels, not demons.

The evening concluded in a similar vein to the Pulp gig - a hushed postscript - with a beautiful, lowkey rendition of Candy Darling, St Vincent's hymn to loners, lovers and losers everywhere. It was sublime.

So, hopefully, that was everyone's demons exorcised... just for one night at least.