Every Gig I've Ever Seen

Every Gig I've Ever Seen #58 Iggy & The Stooges

2010-05-11T13:06:00.000-07:00

Hot on the heels of John Cale in March and Lou Reed in April, here comes Iggy and dem Stooges. Doing all of their difficult Third Album,1973’s “Raw Power”. I can feel it…

Iggy has been dragging The Stooges Mk1 around the globe for about 4 years now. Ron Ashton, the original guitarist, died last year so, quick as you like, Iggy was on the blower to James Williamson, the second guitarist. “Dude, we got gigs”. And lo, The Stooges Mk2 get to play the whole of the only album they ever made, in the city where it was recorded in those dim, distant early-70s.

Far as I know Iggy and Jim hadn’t spoken in 3 decades, but Iggy seems to be applying Swiftcover to his whole life, making belated hay now that he’s finally mainstream enough to coin in some money. Apparently, Bowie’s cover of “China Girl” made Iggy more money than all his other recorded output put together. Me? I know the Iggy act and the insurance ads are a bit tacky but it’s also vindication for Iggy. He and his crew helped write The Book, and almost died trying.

I trundle up on the bank holiday with my oldest skool mate, Nick Edmonds. The Apollo, or Odeon as it should be called, is an Art Deco gem and lends a sense of occasion to any gig. Support on this one is Suicide, playing the whole of their debut LP.

The original album was early-electro, drenched in echo and the corpse of rockabilly. It was a sparse affair but had an atmospheric, dreamlike quality. This live experience was horrible. Two angry pensioners, in “cool” ‘70s leather: one haranguing the mic, the other bothering an old synth. It was loud, sludgy, tedium.A shame, really. One of them smoked a fag onstage. Ooh, edgy. The “dramatic” power chords at the end came on like The Phantom of The Opera. We laughed. Suicide were famously bottled off-stage supporting The Clash in 1977. Harse, as back then it was genuinely ground-breaking stuff, but, today? An interesting footnote.

Time for a pee and listen to James Brown at The Apollo over the speakers. See what they did there? We’re near the front of the circle balcony with a good view and, better yet, seats. I’m done standing at gigs. Lights dim and Jim walks on stage, picks up his Les Paul and starts Raw Power, the title track, joined by bass and original drummer Scott Asheton. Iggy grabs the mic, and we’re off.

The sound is loud and bright with Iggy high in the mix. Iggy does his usual stuff and I spent most of the evening watching the guitar. Williamson is a big guy and looks relatively straight in a T-shirt. The riffs though! He wrote them!! Fast, loud blam. The band was super tight. Search & Destroy, Your Pretty Face is Going To Hell, Penetration, Shake Appeal – with mandatory stage invasion (one of my Desert Island discs), Death Trip. All played with vim and vigour. A classic LP. Every home should have one.

The rest of the set included I Wanna Be Your Dog, I Gotta Right, LA Blues, Open Up and Bleed, Cock in My Pocket. Ur-riffs that I’d heard a million times, from them and thousands of bands since. When you consider James Taylor was the biggest thing on the planet in the early 70s, dem Stooges really did kick against the pricks. Their influence will live long.

Iggy’s 63 now but bossed the stage like a 20 year old. A true original. His voice isn’t just words. Every yelp and groan is another instrument playing. He makes the band gel. Sure, it is just a bunch of old guys playing old songs, but this didn’t feel like karaoke. It was a joy to watch. The world would be a duller place without Iggy and his Stooges.

Every Gig I've Ever Seen #57 Lou Reed

2010-04-21T13:54:00.000-07:00

Lou Reed, Royal Festival Hall, London. April 19^th 2010.

Not a toe-tapper. That’s obvious though. The Metal Machine Music LP re-imagined by Uncle Lou as a Night of Deep Noise. On bass, guitar and drum. And sax. And gong. And gizmos. The Festival Hall is half empty.

The original album is 4 sides of electronic squall. Cycling white-noise. Distorted, tinny drone. Shifting frequencies. Famously, people took copies back on its release, assuming the vinyl was defective. Some reckoned sides 3 and 4 were actually sides 1 and 2 backwards. The wags.

To be honest, I never listened to the whole thing. Legend has it that Lou wanted to kill off his Glam Rock Star image, and piss his record company off at the same time. Part true, probably. But Lou has always liked noise. He was in the Velvet Underground, fercrissakes.

I always liked the idea of the album. The conceit. The challenge. Something so “other” that you had to admire it, just for its weirdness. And this from a guy who wrote songs as fragile and beautiful as, “Femme Fatale”. A proper concept-album. Back then, it was as out-there as you could get. Still is.

Lou’s assembled a Metal Machine Trio, improvising, based on the theme of the record. So, it’s not a note-for-note recitation. Which is a shame. The sheer skill to recreate exactly the white-noise sound of the original, with real instruments, would have been something to behold.

Tonight was intense, churning sounds but, strangely, also quite quaint. Quaint in its old-school Avantgardeness, which as we all know is French for “bullshit”. Lou Reed is officially an old man. He looks frail and moves like an old guy. How he manages to grind through a show like this has to be applauded. From the bleachers, it’s physically draining. My ears took a pounding just from the intro-tape.

The noise was big and repetitive and droning and feed-backing and pitch-shifted and reverb-ed. It was like the climax of a Sonic Youth gig, slowed down, and spread over 70 minutes.

It started off sounding like early Hawkwind at their most trippiest, with a pulsing digital didgeridoo-type throbbing bass, only, not as much fun. The sounded recede. Lou fiddled with his amps, whilst sat on a wheeled office-chair, shuffling between them like a mad scientist. Lots of FX pedals and wringing of guitar strings. No tune, just dings and stabs and distorted harmonics, processed and filtered through an array of boxes onstage. It went on for a long time…

Suddenly, the sound dipped and Lou was creating a sound like My Bloody Valentine being played on a Stylophone. I laughed. It was preposterous. That’s not a slag. I enjoyed it. It was like one of Nigel Tufnel’s guitar solos. I almost expected to see Lou tune his guitar halfway through.

The sax player threw his all into squonking out notes on his sax. Somehow it seemed out of place with its organic, natural sound. Didn’t do it for me really. Curiously the show wasn’t overly loud. If it had been face-melting all the way through it might have been more effective. Total immersion. Shock and Awe. This was more sedate. Tame even.

Things only really took off when Lou actually stood up and blammed out a few chords. The sound, for a split second, was like the album. Big, grinding noise. My mate Nick always thought Lou’s guitar sounded like a toilet flushing. Dirty.

So, was it any good? Really? Yes. It went pear-shaped, sure, but that was the risk. A totally improvised show. I’ve seen Lou Reed loads and at least this was different. He deserves his eccentricities. As part of the Ether Festival, which celebrates all things electronic, it was spot-on. And brought a little Rock Star magic too.

As Art, with a capital A, it was just the right side of Emperor’s New Clothes. It had the feel a proper classical music recital, only louder. Like the album, though, it’s the idea behind it that makes it work. Not an every day thing. Laughing Lou Reed. Legend.

Every Gig I've Ever Seen #56 Big Star

2010-03-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

Big Star The Grand, Clapham, London, August 1993

(I wrote this before Chilton's sad death, 2010. RIP)

Alex Chilton had been a teenage star in the 60s with the Box Tops. Big Star followed who were the ultimate cult band. They never played Europe and hardly played in the US. Bad management, bad drugs, bad luck. Ahead of their time. I’d seen him solo in Berkeley and had since bought all 3 Big Star albums and knew them inside out.

And suddenly he announced a tour with the original drummer and back up from the Posies. Unbelievable! And it was just down the road from where I was living.

Large group of us went. They concentrated on the first two poppier albums, not the bleak third. Have you ever heard “Holocaust”? Music for the end of the World. Alex had a big semi-acoustic and made it look easy. He’s not sold on the myth and even spent 2 years working in a New Orleans kitchen. He didn’t care. But he played the songs as if they were fresh. Chiming riffs and licks. “September Gurls” was magic. “Back of a Car”, “Baby Beside Me”, “Way Out West”, “I’m in Love with a Girl”, “You Get What You Deserve”. Song after song, all of them bigger and better live. The crowd were screaming approval and Alex seemed to enjoy it, though he commented that he couldn’t believe we wanted to hear this “old shit”. He came back for one last encore 10 minutes after the house lights went up and the venue was half full. Michael Jackson had just been done for kiddy-fiddling (the first time) and he dedicated “Thirteen” to him. One of my Top Ten gigs, easy.

Every Gig I've Ever Seen #55 Alex Chilton

2010-03-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

Alex Chilton Berkeley Square, Berkeley, California, November 1985

I knew Alex Chilton had been the lead singer of The Boxtops and I knew one song, “The Letter” from my “Stardust” original movie soundtrack album. A great album by the way and is how I first heard Hendrix. KALX used to play “September Gurls” by his next band, Big Star, all the time. More recently he’d produced the first Cramps and Panther Burns albums, which I loved. He was indie underground Legend. Alan McGee, who set up Creation records and signed Oasis, apparently made all his signings listen to Big Star. They were like the Velvet Underground – no audience first time around, but became cult. At this stage, though, Big Star were a distant memory and Chilton had all but retired from music. So, a rare sighting of a Legend. Big Star reformed in the early 90s for a tour and finally got some kudos and dosh.

He was short, kinda straight looking and played great guitar. There was no ego or rock God posturing. Normal guy. He played “Slut” by Todd Rungren, loads of old soul and RnB covers, one about AIDS (“fuck me and die”), no “The Letter” but did do “September Gurls”, the opening riff getting a big cheer. All very casual and almost throw-away. He made it look easy. The only song I recognised, when I finally heard more Big Star, was a version of “Big, Black Car”. Totally Cool. Made you want to keep it to yourself but at the same time wanting more people to know about this great thing.

Alex died suddenly on St Patrick's Day, 2010 aged 59.

Every Gig I've Ever Seen #54 John Cale

2010-03-08T11:01:00.000-08:00

If you live long enough you’ll see most things. I’ve seen John Cale many times, including the Velvet Underground reformation in 1993. But, the whole of ‘1919”? With an orchestra? Dude, I’m there!

In Rock’s twilight years we’ve seen many classic albums played in their entirety: Pet Sounds; Funhouse; SF Sorrow. The songs still work and fans, old and new, get a once-in-a-lifetime thrill. “1919” is Cale’s most complete album – orchestral pop with a weary strain of melancholia. The songs are loosely based around the theme of life after The Great War and Treaty of Versailles. Cale gave the Velvets their avant-garde edge and has always been about more than just 3 chords.

Officially Cale’s 67, though some say he’s 72. Whichever way, he has presence. With a capital P. He makes his entrance with an ‘Hello London, nice to see you”, casual suit, shirt out, hair dyed rust-and-blonde. El Hombre cool. And we’re off, straight into ‘Child’s Christmas in Wales”.

Strings, horns, drums and guitar all blend beautifully. Cale’s rich baritone cuts through it all. I’m Fan Boy and could happily listen to him singing it all a cappella. Mind you, I get teary when I hear Welsh rugby fans singing their national anthem. There’s something about the Welsh heart…

Meanwhile, back in the jungle. “Hanky Panky Nohow” was gorgeous. “The Endless Plain of Fortune” cello-tastic with horns that made hairs stand. “Paris 1919” tailor made for the event. “Andalucia” aching. “Graham Green” jaunty. “Half Past France” made my eyes prickle. The songs, familiar to me over decades, were reborn. The ballast of the orchestra gave them a full, warm, analogue glow. “Macbeth” romped us home. Ovation and a visibly touched Cale patted his heart.

I could have gone home happy then but, seeing as the original album was only 30 minutes long, there was more to come. The orchestra went off, leaving Cale with the band. “Amsterdam” from his first album was a complete surprise and special treat. “Femme Fatale” was radically reworked and tipped a nod to his history. “Heartbreak Hotel” was the usual demented tale of woe. “Fear” is still scary whilst making you laugh. The band are great. Axe work that flowed, every note fitting. The drummer man – a joy to watch; loose but nailing it.

The orchestra return for “Do Not Go Gentle” which builds and builds. Dylan Thomas set to orchestra with pounding piano clusters. “Hedda Gabler” is another obscure cut, which swells and unfurls beyond its original vinyl recording. It’s big. Things end with an even older curiosity; ‘Dirty Ass Rock n Roll”. Not an obvious choice but a jolly way to wind things up.

I was there. Tidy. “Music For a New Society” next, perhaps?

Every Gig I've Ever Seen #53

2010-02-25T14:25:00.001-08:00

Martin Harley Band, Peter Parker's Rock n Roll Club, London. 22/2/10

What will music be like when Grandad was a punk, not an RAF pilot? The Book's been written.What is music, now that you can turn it on like water from a tap via the web? Rock, for want of a better word, is dead. Dead from too much karaoke.

The Authentic. That's what the People need. If all the forms are known, all the songs written, then it's the singer's take on the song that makes the difference now. Only connect. The human touch. Not Subo - the Diana Moment in Pop - but real performers playing real songs.

The Martin Harley Band possess the chops and tunes to take an audience with them. It's acoustic, blues-based, with Django-esque jazz tinges. You'll "know" the origins, even if you can't name them.

Great, you say, just what we need, another set of well-worn cliches.

But, a-ha, these guys are great. Harley's an engaging front man with a wonderful slide action and can turn a pretty lyric. The band are tight but loose, real connection between them. This isn't just another singer/songwriter with pick-up band. It's an entity in its own right.

In an age of Lady Ga-Ga and ever increasing plastic Pop it's refreshing to hear and see proper musicians play live. It's the musicianship that makes it. And they make it look so easy. "Automatic Life", "Drumrolls for Somersaults", "Carnival Girls" and a pin-drop acoustic version of "North Lanes". A fine set of songs.

Harley isn't about to fall into the David Gray trap: enough talent to "make it" but then what? He's old enough to know better. His craft will just get better and better. He'll get bigger but that's not the main event. It's about the music. The sheer joy of making an instrument sing. You can listen along if you like...

Every gig I've Ever Seen #52 Rolling Stones

2010-02-03T05:52:00.000-08:00

Rolling Stones Shepherds Bush Empire June 1999

Rushed down to Tower Records, Piccadilly Circus, with Rod Webster on the Monday morning. We were supposed to be editing but we bunked off – um vee. Well, why not, it’s not like it happens everyday? Queued for an hour, handed over £10 cash money (bargain!) and got a ticket and wrist band.

The Stones always liked to do a small club date in London, famously playing the 100 club, Brixton Academy and The Astoria on different tours. Although huge all over the planet, London is still their home town and they always needed to put on a good show in front of the home crowd. 1999 saw all sorts of unique gigs as the Twentieth Century drew to a close and I think people getting in a tizzy over YK2 (remember that?!) was a red herring, a distraction from a sense of loss, End of The Millennium Psychosis Blues, literally the end of an era. Part of this naval-gazing saw Macca play the Cavern Club in Liverpool, doing old rock’n’roll numbers. It made world news.

So, whither goest the The Rolling Stones in The Twentieth Century? Can they still pull it off? Does it matter? Is Rock Dead? That kinda thing. Having seen the Stones the year before at a routine Enormodome gig (and been underwhelmed) the chance to see them in such a small venue was novel.

Gig was good, but…. it got a wee bit dull it has to be said. They didn’t do the really big set-piece songs (no Sympathy?!). Bits of it were, frankly, pub-rock. Keith, perched on a stool, did “Memory Motel” or some other coked-up nonsense from Black & Blue (a nasty soulless piece of vinyl). They did “Cherry O Baby” and it was horrible. The rest descended into Chuck Berry jamming. It wasn’t all bad but after the initial rush of “kinnel, it’s Them!” you were left with just watching a band and it didn’t seem to gel. I don’t wish to sound ungrateful of course. It was great but it didn’t change my life. Special, if only for the chance to see them in such a small venue (about 2,000). Weirdly, I saw them again on the Saturday at Wembley Stadium and they were amazing. Go figure.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #51 Tolpuddle Martyrs

2010-02-02T12:19:00.000-08:00

Battersea Park. July 29^th. 1985

A gig to celebrate the 150th Anniversary of the Tolpuddle Martyrs. Can you imagine that happening now?! Another day of music. Free in a London Park!

Wandered off to see Jimmy Page playing on a small stage with Roy Harper. THE Jimmy Page. THE Roy Harper. Roy had sung “Have a Cigar” for Pink Floyd. Led Zeppelin wrote “Hats Off To Roy” about him. The songs were OK but I didn’t quite get it. Usual feeling of “big brother music”. Now, though, I think albums like “Stormcock” are amazing. Sigh, youth. Roy looked a bit untogether on stage. I’d seen them recently interviewed on the Old Grey Whistle Test, halfway up a mountain in Wales. Roy was a bit shot in those days and they came over as very defensive. Was he mad? I’ve got video of Roy playing Stonehenge Festival that same year, which says a lot about him. No rock star he, living in a rock star pad.

John Sebastian. He was at Woodstock and his whole act and performance was the same, pretty much. He’s ripped to the tits in Woodstock but if you see footage from other festivals of the time he acts the same way. All tie-die and goofy. “ Do You Believe in Magic?” and “Daydream”. I didn’t mind but it seemed, well, a bit sad. What do you do after something like Woodstock? Still, you didn’t see Woodstock legends every day of the week and at least we knew the words!

Christy Moore was amazing. He was the Guv’nor of folk in the 80s. Big powerful voice, beautiful guitar playing. He did one song about all the young Irish men who’ve come to London over the decades for gold and end up drinking on the streets of Camden and can’t go home to Ireland. Lost souls. I saw the London Irish in a different light after that song. Proper folk music.

Paul Butterfield Blues band were sixties Rock Legends. Like an American John Mayall’s Blues Breakers. The hub of serious white blues. His guitar was dirty and loud. It had a presence that the British pub rock I’d heard didn’t have. Maybe it was Civil Rights or the Draft and Vietnam or the assassinations of King and the Kennedys, but American Sixties guitar was an altogether angrier beast. The Stooges and MC5 couldn’t have come from Chipping Sodbury.

Alan Price did the one about Simon’s amazing, dancing bear. He was in the Animals and gets all the royalties from their biggest hit, “House of The Rising Sun”, much to his bandmates’ chagrin.

A nice day out. Once the GLC was scrapped these gigs stopped.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #50 Jobs for a Change Festival

2010-02-02T12:14:00.000-08:00

Battersea Park. July 7^th 1985

Third day in a row of live music after having seen Jonathan Richman and Broooce. Another GLC Jobs For a Change Festival. Big event. Usual stalls and collecting buckets. This was about the time of Red Wedge where people like Paul Weller did a UK tour drumming up support amongst young voters to go and vote Labour and kick the Tories out. Labour MPs actually spoke at these gigs. Mobilise the Yoof. ‘Cept they didn’t really. People did genuinely have conversations about the overthrow of Capitalism and the righteousness of Socialism though. South Africa was the other big grievance. Apart from a bit of Glastonbury you don’t see such activism attached to music festivals now. Or anything really. Have we really won the war? iTwats.

We stayed by one of the 4 stages for most of the day. The Beat Farmers were jokey RnB. The Men They Couldn’t Hang were nu-country. Wreckless Eric seemed very bitter. He did a song about AIDS, which was the big News story of the day. Government adverts with collapsing tomb stones warning of the perils of unprotected sex. It was still seen mainly as a gay plague. The gist of Eric’s song was that he wished someone he knew would get AIDS and die. Nasty. He looked a bit pissed too. Bit of Boot Hill Foot-Tappers and Hank Wangford, which was pleasant enough. I wouldn’t cross the road to hear them now. Saw some of The Pogues moighty craic thing but it seemed lost in an open space. You have to be in the mood as well.

By this time we were knackered. 3 days in a row. I ended up walking to Waterloo with sister Leah and her friend Louise to get the last train back to Andover. We missed it and sat on a milk-train for hours before it set off. Didn’t get any sleep and got a cold. I rang in sick the next day. That week’s NME covered all the gigs I’d been to, on one page.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #49 Bruce Springsteen

2010-02-02T12:10:00.000-08:00

Bruce Springsteen. Wembley Stadium. 1985

The day after seeing Jonathan Richman we all trudged up to Wembley to see Broooce. Met at the Glass Blowers Arms in Soho. Dunno why but I remember it. Chris was there with his sister Cath and I think brother Mike. We didn’t have tickets but we thought we’d get them at the door, or cheap off a tout, because it was the third consecutive night so, we reasoned, most people would already have seen him.

It was Bruce’s turn to be Mega that year. Bowie had done it in 1983, Dylan the year before. Live Aid that year revived some careers and people like Simple Minds, U2 and INXS did their stadium shows in the late 80s/early 90s. Product, man. Still we liked Bruce and even yer parents had heard of him. “Born In The USA” had done big box office and yet he was a known anti-Reaganite. It was an irony even then that Born In The USA, the song, was taken up by gung-ho America. “Dude, the chorus. It’s fuckin America, buddy!”

Lines about young men being sent off to fight the yellow man didn’t seem to register. Despite the bombast, Bruce knew which side he was on. And compared to, say, the Stones or Bowie or Dylan he was Karl Marx.

It was a beautiful day and the walk up the Wembley Way was great, thousands of fans smiling, the twin towers getting ever closer. Wembley was as big as it got in those days.

Tried in vain to get tickets. Non on sale and the touts were charging double. We sat on the grass at the back of the stadium. Bruce was doing 3 to 4 hour sets so we listened to the first bit which was all solo acoustic. Then, kinnel, the doors at the back were opening and people were running in! Huge wave of people surging forward, fast. I grabbed Leah’s hand and dragged her along with me. Saw a girl get knocked to the floor, people leaping over her to get into the stadium. Scary.

Suddenly we were in running, laughing onto the terraces at the back of the stadium. Way at the back. If you’ve been to Wembley you’ll know that’s far. The stands were still the concrete steps of old, before Heysel and Hillsborough and seating. There were two TV sets either side of the stage. Well, Jumbo screens but looked like little tellies from where we were. Sound was loud and clear except the place was so big there was a sound delay of a full second. Bruce would be mouthing “huh” or “ergh” or “yeah” into the mic, then snap his head back and then you’d hear “huh” or “ergh” or “yeah” rumbling out of the PA.

Some of it was magic. “Born To Run”. “Thunder Road”. Cliches, but still good air-guitaring anthems. 70,000 pairs of hands clapping. Bellowed choruses. But it was Broooce, after all, so there were loads of tedious work-outs. Clarence with his sax. Nils Lofgren shredding axe. Boss running from side to side. Every last ounce of pure, honest, rock’n’roll sweat pouring out of him. He was the People’s Rocker. His head’s too big for his stocky little body by the way. By the fourth hour I’d done Bruce it has to be said. Still, a modern Rock Legend, a good show and it was free! Result.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #48 Wilko Johnson

2010-02-02T12:08:00.000-08:00

Wilko Johnson. Bull & Gate, London June 1985.

If you ever get the chance to see him, go. Demented. He’s a snapshot from a sweaty pub somewhere in 1974. Slack-jawed, machine-gunning, gum-chewing, duck-walking, leg-kicking axe man. He looks exactly the same as he does in old footage of Dr. Feelgood. When bands like Yes were releasing triple albums with Roger Dean sleeve covers (“Tales from Topographic Oceans”, the Platonic Conception of the Ultimate Bloated Excess Prog Album) Dr. Feelgood were sharp, 2-minute stabs of amphetamine R’n’B. All the Punks of ’76 – Pistols, Clash, Damned – saw them and enjoyed the speediness of it. Loud, fuck-off Rock music. They are the missing link between the New York Dolls and the Clash. Attitude in a riff.

Their “Stupity” live album hit Number One in age of ELO, Elton John and The Eagles. Unheard of. The Kidz were mobilising against the Forces of Blandness.

Bull & Gate is next door to The Forum and has been a bedrock of the north London music scene for generations. My flat-mates Nick and Howie played there. A typical Tuesday night with 4 bands on the bill, usually outsiders playing their first London gig, and each band has brought along 30 friends and family so the Pub’s happy selling beer on a Tuesday night. And for this rare privilege each band paid £50 to cover “costs”. Pay-to-Play. A monopoly that has been broken, thankfully. Still, it was a lovely old Victorian boozer and almost a rite of passage for any band.

Wilko was fanatastic. A genuine performer. He plays guitar like Hendrix in that he uses his thumb and fingers to press down on strings to form chords and with his other hand plays lead and rhytmn. The secret’s in the thumb as it makes a barre shape leaving the fingers free to shred axe. He machine guns the audience with his battered Fender Telecaster. Tight 3-button black suit, done up, and white shirt. Simple, striped down, basic. “I’m a Hog For You Baby” was glorious. One little piggy went to Hong Kong. Cue Chinese melody as Blues riff. On the beat. Tighter than a nun’s chuff. Body and tune in sync. The Form indivisible from the Content.

Wilko. A normal bloke who plays the Idiot Savant but who probably is one for real. A holy goof like Neal Cassady. Unique. He’ll make you smile.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #47 Jonathan Richman

2010-02-02T12:07:00.000-08:00

Jonathan Richman. Jackson Lane Community Centre. June 1985

Summer 1984 I shared a flat in Putney with Chris who got me a job at SunMed for the holiday. Craig and Andrea were down from Scotland to go to Glastonbury with us later that month..

Lovely old Victorian building used as performance space, crèche, restaurant, theatre, meeting space. Proper Community Arts centre. Jonathan had a new album out and was back again to push it. And he had a new band which had Asa Brebner from the Live album and Andy Paley on drums. Cool. I’d been given a camera for my 21^st birthday the previous year and I discovered a love of taking pictures. I’m not tech-y in anyway but I love seeing the fruits of my labours back from the developers. Haven’t got the hang of digital yet. It’s no the same, ken? Anyway, I took some photos that night. The band was great. Much tighter and Jonathan did much more improv and dancing. Good srummin’. Crowd really enthusiastic. Laughter. That’s what you get at a Jonathan gig. In truth, I’ve never heard such laughter at any other gig. Weirdly, as a parent now, I see him as a bit Wiggles. No “Road Runner” though.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #46 Jonathan Richman

2010-02-02T12:04:00.000-08:00

Jonathan Richman. Dingwalls.1984

The original Dingwalls. A long room with a raised section along the back wall with a bar. All open plan with a tiny stage at the other end with iron poles holding the ceiling up. Camden hadn’t been Starbucked then. The market was titchy and home-made. Dingwalls was a name gig for any band despite the grubbiness. Well, almost. It was small and intimate. Which meant that it got very squashed. We saw Jonathan by Camden Lock before going in and said hello, which was nice. We didn’t have tickets and they said it was sold out. Just then Ellie the singer walked in and we asked if she could get us in. And she did! She also opened her handbag for something and I saw a vibrator just lying there. Not very chivalrous of me to mention it but it was quite a surprise, having never seen one before.

Cries of “Road Runner” went unheeded. Don’t remember this gig as well as the first one, mainly because the view of the stage was restricted and the sound was quiet. Still, those Dingwalls ads were part of growing up. The tickets were like old-style cinema tickets coming off a big roll. No band names written on them or anything hi-falutin like that.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #45 Bob Dylan

2010-02-02T11:54:00.000-08:00

Bob Dylan. Wembley, 1984.

Bob had done a few Christian albums after 1978 that weren’t really up to much. “God Gave Names To All The Animals” from “Slow Train Coming” was appalling. He was still Bob though and it was his turn to play the world’s big stadiums that year. Uncle Greg had never seen Bob, I’d never been to Wembley Stadium, so we went along on spec. Bought tickets off a tout for 10 quid each and went in.

Wember-lee! We entered into the arena. It’s big! There’s the twin towers! Place is packed. Smell of turf, rubber, sweat, beer, smoke. Got to the half way point of the pitch, to the right of the mixing desk. Caught the end of Santana which was all head-back, eyes-closed, axe noodling. No video screen so they were diddy little images in the distance. 4 heavy looking miners stared at us. Greg’s 6’5” and has one of those faces. We supported the Miners in principle but when you met a real one there was a huge divide. We had some hash oil which, like Red Leb and Afghan Black, is a very rare thing these days. Skunk hadn’t become the norm yet. We were very relaxed after the initial wave of Miners paranoia.

And then, BOB! Ecstatic reception. Bob in long leather coat, shades and battered top hat. The Joker Man hisself. He did all the biggies but hard and fast. Some tunes were only recognizable after about 2 verses. A girl was sitting on a mate’s shoulders ahead, blocking the view. “Sit down, girlie!” we yelled in our best Glasgow. That got a cheer from those around us. Another girl stood in front of me and started grinding her bum into my crotch. I started fondling her boobs under her T-shirt. Weird. Nice, but weird.

It was a good show. Loud and the mix was good. You could hear Bob’s rasp clearly. Mick Taylor, ex-Stones, was on guitar and it was very rock-y. “Maggie’s Farm” got a huge cheer with its line about not working on it no more. “Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat”. ”Mr Tambourine Man”. “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue.” “Blowing In The Wind”. “Tangled Up In Blue”. “All Along The Watchtower.” “Like a Rolling Stone”. He wrote that! Van Morrison and Eric Clapton came on for the encores. Finished with “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”. 72,000 happy punters and a much better gig than Blackbush 6 years earlier. Well, by this time I knew the songs, which helps. By the end of the decade Bob had started his Never Ending Tour and now regularly plays 3,000 capacity venues. The days of enormo gigs behind him.

Trudging out we got paranoid about the security cameras and secretly popped the rest of the oil into the back of a random guy’s ruck-sack. He looked the sort.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #43 Jonathan Richman

2010-02-02T11:49:00.000-08:00

Jonathan Richman. Hammersmith Palais. June 1984

I remember “Road Runner” in the summer of ’76, working for a fruit & veg Man, delivering produce around hotels and shops in the Trossachs. Great riff and cool lyrics, tooling about in beautiful scenary. Come 1983 and I’ve just started a degree in Stirling. Met Craig and Andrea and we shared a flat. They’ve been together 25 years now and have 2 lovely kids, my Godson Jack and Alice.

Anyway, one day we were looking at second-hand vinyl and came across “The Modern Lovers Live”. Andrea’s brother had been at the actual Hammy Odeon gig where the album was made. So we bought it. I loved it. It made me laugh. It was dumb but had cool tunes. After that first album I bought the back catalogue, scouring record shops and jumble sales. The original ”Modern Lovers” album recorded in 1972, with John Cale producing, but not released until 1976, is the missing link between the Velvets and punk. No lie.

Then “Jonathan Sings” came out on Rough Trade in 1984. We loved it. He had a ragged-y little band with girl vocalists and he played his squonking sax on some songs. Funny,happy little songs. I was always amazed thatJonathan had followed the Velvet Underground as a teenager. His first album from the early 70s is still a cracker. Dark but poignant. And some great riffs. It’s up there with “Marquee Moon” and “Horses”. After that he sounded mello. There was a song on the new album about how he’d gone to Bermuda after that period and learnt to chill-out. I was a fan and that summer in London he was due to play his first UK gig in about 5 years! Craig & Andrea came down from Stirling.

Orange Juice had asked him to support on their big end-of-tour London gig for them. They were fans too, led by Edwyn Collins and on Postcard Records - the Sound of Young Scotland. Their first album had some lovely tunes with wry lyrics about wearing their “fringe like Roger McGuinn”. Scots have always been good at recognising a cool tune, absorbing influences and coming up with something different: Rezillos; Jesus & Mary Chain; Aztec Camera; Hue & Cry; Teenage Fan Club etc. Orange Juice were probably just as thrilled as the audience to see Jonathan play. It was a glorious double-bill on paper.

The Hammersmith Palais was the venue. As in “White Man in…”. While writing this the Palais is due to be knocked down after 90 years. For more offices and Starbucks. Hooray. If it was a West End theatre it would have listed status but it’s been deemed “architecturally unimportant” and, anyway, it was always a bit, well, common. You know, pop music and such like.

It was/is a great venue. Not as opulent as the Hammy Odeon (or the Labatt’s Carling Hammersmith Apollo as it was renamed – tossers!) but it had a wraparound balcony and an enormous wooden dance floor.

Jonathan got an ecstatic reception that even took him by surprise. The drummer had a bongo with a splash cymbal strapped to it. An upright double bass. Ellie on backing vocals. And Jonathan. It was staggering. New songs, old songs. “I’m a Little Dinosaur” “Stop This Car” “Summer Feeling” “Hospital”. He acted out the songs, stepping back from the mic to dance, like a little kid. The voice like someone with a cold, but the words were so funny. And heartfelt.

During “Affection”, a quiet song about the need for affection, (none of this stuff was rocket science), I went “aah” in an exaggerated way. “That’s right, Pal! I’m serious.” I felt myself flush. My cool in-on-the-joke utterance had back-fired. He’d really pulled me up on it. He WAS serious! I felt shamed.

He only got 45 minutes and didn’t do “Roadrunner”. The crowd were stamping and screaming for more. Eventually Jonathan had to come out to quieten the crowd explaining they were running late and Orange Juice had to get on. Boos. Orange Juice came on and half the audience left. I’ve never seen anything like it since. And of those who stayed, half shouted for Jonathan during the gig. It was a real shame for Orange Juice who bravely plowed on. There was a definite dip of energy in the room.

We managed to get backstage to say hello to Jonathan. The band were buzzing at the reaction. We got a free beer. There’s Jonathan! By then the excitement was too much and I went bounding up to him. I was aware that I probably looked totally wired, all hot and sweaty and smelly. “That was amazing! I don’t know if you’re a genius or madman!”. I remember blurting that out. Can’t remember his response. He gave me a badge and didn’t seem displeased. In fact the overall impression was of a really nice person. Honest.

I wrote him a letter later saying how the gig had touched me. It was real, it wasn’t fashion, how he represented something good and honest and tapped into the joy of life etc. He actually wrote back saying he didn’t mind people laughing but he didn’t like the “cool” laugh… “they’re dead inside. Too many video-games. When they can really laugh, then they can really cry”. I was chuffed! I lost count after 20 gigs by Jonathan over the years. There was something that pulled me in, tho’ the magic dimmed over the years. I still play the “Rock’n’Roll With The Modern Lovers” to Hugo. What a great title. Years later I saw Orange Juice’s set from that night on TV. It looked like an amazing show with an adoring audience, but I knew different…

Every gig I've Ever Seen #42 Status Quo

2009-11-23T12:16:00.000-08:00

Status Quo, Basingstoke, 2009.

Even my Mum has seen Status Quo. And she hasn't been to any gigs.

The Quo. You can laugh. I remember "Caroline" on Top of The Pops in 1973BC or whenever. I loved it or rather the 12-bar blues in it and thus, through the Quo, I got into Blues music. True. Not the Rolling Stones.

The "Hello" album by Quo is a classic. Cheap Fender guitars but a hard sound - 3 years before The Ramones debut. "Quo Live" was/is a corker. One of the few live albums that really captures a gig and its atmosphere. I've spent countless hours, banging my head with tennis racquet or air-guitar to that one. My young uncles, Greg and Ciarin, used to play "Down the Dustpipe" on their guitars at family Christmases in the 70s. The first time I met my father-in-law he was playing with his pub band and they did "Caroline" in their set.

So, yes, I've always had a soft spot for the Quo. But I'd never seen them. In London they always played the shit-hole that is Wembley and I couldn't be arsed. Deep down (deeper on down) though there was a part of me that always fancied seeing them. I've seen everyone else so, why not?

In August of 2009 our family moved to a village outside Basingstoke and I saw the Quo were playing the 1,100 seat Anvil theatre. Hmm. On my birthday too. Maybe...

On the day my old friend Chris came to stay so we thought we'd try and get tickets. We got to the venue and asked the nice ladies at the box office if there were any returns. Keep popping back, they said, and you might get lucky. 20 minutes later we were at the bar and one of the ladies came up and said "You're in luck!" We got 2 tickets at face value, right in the middle, 11 rows back. Wah-hey!

Once inside we looked at all the middle-aged couples and entire families of Quo fans. A roadie was hoovering the stage. It couldn't have been more sedate and MOR. I expected a soft-rock version of "Quo Live", seeing as Parfitt and Rossi were both 60 by now. The amps started to hum loudly. Intro music. The band appeared. The opening chords to "Caroline" blammed out and we were off.

They were great. Proper loud, 70s, rock gig. Rossi's stage patter took the piss out of himself, the band, the audience, but in a friendly Max Miller way. There was no rock star ego. They came over as a pub band with knobs on. They were so tight! And, because we were so close, we could see their fingers running up and down the frets. Licks and riffs I'D HEARD A THOUSAND TIMES! They made it look so easy and FUN.

OK, they played rubbish like "Living on an Island" and "Something Bout You baby I Like" but it was great just to see them bouncing around and do the guitar line-up, heads bobbing, rocking from side-to-side, just as I did 30 years ago at skool with my mates.

What really impressed was the variety of tunes. They played "Pictures of Matchstick Men" and "Ice in the Sun" from psychedelic 1967. They played old songs: "Mean Girl", "Rain", "Junior's Wailin'", "Paper Plane", even "Down the Dustpipe". They even did "Softer Ride" from the "Hello" album, a personal fave - I ain't going to work no more! Almost a political statementduring the 3 Day Week. "Rocking All Over the World" sounded much harder live and "Down Down" was just brilliant - their "Paranoid" or "Stairway" or "Smoke on the Water". A true classic.

You can slag 'em but they are unique and a fun live band. They know who they are and what they can do. An awesome beast. I'm glad I've seen them.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #41. Ten Pole Tudor.

2009-07-31T12:39:00.000-07:00

Tenpole Tudor. Dingwalls 1984

Eddie Tenpole Tudor had auditioned for the Pistols, been in their film “Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle”, had hits such as “Swords of a Thousand Men” and been on TOTP dressed as a leather jacketed Knight of old. Apparently he was a superb athlete at public school too. Mad crazed eyes and a cartoon vocal delivery. Very ragged and a real boys thing.

I think we went for the tenuous Pistols connection. Years later I saw a girlfriend of mine snogging him at a very mashed party. Her flatmate knew him and we used to see him at gigs and Camden pubs. Like John Otway his appeal was as an English eccentric. But he did do TOTP.

Years later I saw him support Greaseball, a mate’s band at the King’s Head, Fulham. It was a free gig and it was just a few locals and band friends. He was playing solo and two 30-something businessmen at the bar suddenly realised who it was and went excitedly down the front to jump around and sing along. It was quite sweet although Tenpole looked a bit sheepish. It wasn’t the coolest spectacle on the planet.

Last time I saw him was in 2009 at the funeral of the girlfriend he’d snogged all those years ago. He looked as shell-shocked as I felt on that occasion.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #40. The Meteors.

2009-07-31T12:38:00.001-07:00

The Meteors. Dingwalls. Camden. 1985.

Rockabilly was a large subcult throughout the early 80s. US High School jackets, Levis, white socks, check shirts, tattoos, brothel creepers. An alternative to New Romantic stupidity and High Street shoulder pads. The Meteors were the kings of the scene. Cartoon characters. “Teenagers From Outer Space”. “Earwigs In my Brain”. Good, jokey knockabout stuff. Stand up bass for that authentic 50s slap. Semi acoustic Gretschs twanging with a whammy bar.

Dingwalls was an ideal venue to see this in. Big, sweaty, raucous crowd but friendly. Huge blokes with spider web tattoos swigging Snakebite. Spoke to a black guy who had a Cramps tattoo. Not a common sight. Moshpit full of mad chicken dancing. Fun but a one-joke band.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #39. The Smiths.

2009-07-31T12:36:00.000-07:00

Jobs For a Change Festival. Jubilee Gardens, London 1984.

Right in the heart of the GLC, across the Thames from Thatcher’s Parliament, a day of music and speechifying. 3 million unemployed. Bad. USAF Cruise missles. Bad. Nuclear Bombs. Bad. Miners Strike. Bad. Red Ken spoke as usual. Nerdy but down to earth. Missed the Red Skins and heard there’d been a riot with 200 skinheads storming the stage. Broken glass still on the floor. Hank Wangford there doing his songs about jogging with Jesus down Life’s long highway. First time I saw Billy Bragg or rather craned to peer into a jammed tent. The Smiths were starting to get big and this was a big gig. All eyes on them. Morrissey all floppy quiff with the ear piece and gladioli sticking out his back pocket. Not the full PA loudness and apart from a few riffs it didn’t do it for me. The lyrics make funny reading but it didn’t Rawk. Call me shallow. There’s always been something end-of-the-pier about our Stephen. Catholic demons too. A camp Nick Cave. Mari Wilson was uplifting with her beehive and doo-wop girls. Like the Darts only less panto.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #37 and 38. Elvis Costello.

2009-07-31T12:35:00.000-07:00

Elvis Costello & The Attractions Edinburgh Playhouse 1984

Went with Craig and Andrea. Up in the balcony. The Pogues supported and went down well. Shane McGowan. Some great lyrics but that voice. I’ve tried. It hurts. The Pogues were really rough and ready, banging their heads with tin plates. Moighty craic from pissed Camden.

Elvis with the Attractions. Great band. I remember Steve Nieve’s keyboards being really clear and rocking. Amazing musician. Elvis didn’t vamp so much this time or get carried away vocally like he did in Glasgow.

A curiously empty feeling about the whole thing really. I can live quite happily without ever hearing an Elvis Costello song again.

Elvis Costello Edinburgh Playhouse 1984

Elvis played solo 2 weeks later. T-Bone Burnett was support. He was great. Easy-picking guitar. Southern US drawl. Country rock. I bought his album. He went on to play with Dylan and won an Oscar for work on “Oh Brother! Where Art Thou?”

Elvis doing Unplugged before Unplugged. Stripped of the bombast of a band he let the lyrics and tunes breathe. Ballads like “Alison” really worked shorn of clutter. Low-key but effective. His voice still bothers me though…

Every gig I've Ever Seen #35. Elvis Costello.

2009-07-31T12:23:00.001-07:00

Elvis Costello Glasgow 1983

By 1983 Elvis was the indie King of sharp song-writing. Emerging from Punk he evolved into a Top 20 act but with schmartz, jah? I’ve tried, I’ve really tried but ultimately, after all this time, I’m not an Elvis Costello fan. The first 3 albums are great fun but it’s his voice. The fact he ended up doing “She” on the “Notting Hill” film soundtrack confounds me.

Anyway, great old ballroom at the far end of Sauciehall Street in the centre of Glasgow. The Attractions are a great band and the crowd were up for it. Glasgow audiences used to chant “Here we go, here we go, here we go!” before bands came on stage. Not like their jaded seen-it-all London brethren.

Elvis was wearing a shiny pink/purple mohair suit and doing his crooner impersonation. The fast ones were tight and rockin’. “Pump It Up, “Oliver’s Army”, “Mystery Dance”, “Radio Radio”. The ballads all seemed to end in extended vamps with Elvis dragging out the words in Tony Bennett style. Emoting. Wringing the songs out. And it got tedious. Even “Ship Building” a great song about the Falklands War was bludgeoned my Elvis’ vocal workout. Which was a real shame as that song is part of the REAL soundtrack to the Eighties, not “Rio” by Duran Duran.

A minor Legend and obviously a very clever man but…

Every gig I've Ever Seen #34. Bo Diddley.

2009-07-31T12:22:00.001-07:00

Bo Diddley. Glasgow Arches. 1984

There was a minibus going to Glasgow. Me and flat-mates Craig and Andrea had gotten involved in the University Music Society. I got voted as President. Not bad out of about, ooh, 7 people. We joined so that we could arrange tickets and transport for ourselves, if truth be told. Nobody ever played Stirling as there was no point: stuck halfway between Glasgow and Edinburgh any touring bands would just play those two before going off to Aberdeen. For that reason the Student Union was pretty useless. So, the best way for us to get to gigs and back was with transport, paid for out of student funding. We’d see a gig we’d like advertised, vote on buying a dozen tickets and book the mini-van. We were supposed to help musicians with facilities but I never got involved in that.

So, Bo Diddley. Again. At the time one of my courses was Popular Music in the 20th Century. Stirling used the 2-semesters-a-year system with a Major subject and add-on units to build up a degree. I also did a term of Fine art in The Twentieth Century. All these courses were later scrapped – useless liberal Arts costing money, who needs ‘em? Thank God, the Tories were there to sort out such nonsense! Anyway, the Music course was great. One of the lecturers was Otto Krayoli, a wonderful man who’d fled Hungary in 1956 when the Russian tanks rolled in and wrote what became a standard text; ”An Introduction To Music”. Others were old Blues fans who saw Big Bill Broonzy in 1956. Occassionally, a student would give a guest talk. I gave mine on Chuck Berry. The night of the gig I had to turn in an essay the next day entitled, I kid ye not; “Can White Men Sing The Blues?”

So, we were up for some Bo. The Arches was literally that. A small vaulted basement. So small that Bo and band had to climb the same spiral staircase to get in as the audience. The band came on first and warmed the crowd up. Suddenly, Bo was on the stairs ready to go on. People were smiling, shaking his hand. Bo Diddley! Standing next to us! The music wasn’t particularly loud so I told him about my essay. “Can they?” “Sure. If they get their shit together” That was the opening quote of my essay. I wrote it overnight when I got back to Stirling. Got an A+.

Bo had a beige, 70s looking suit with wide lapels. In fact it was a beige, 70s suit and looked a bit acrylic. John Lee Hooker once said that white boys didn’t know how to play the blues, “coz they don’t know what it is to wear nylon socks!” It was a really intimate crowd and Glaswegians are great. If they like you. They liked Bo. The set wasn’t as hard-hitting as the Lyceum show I’d seen. A lot more robotics and games with the guitar. It was an act. I knew this because I’d seen it and that seemed to rob the spontaneity from it. Strange feeling. When he played it fast though, it was mesmerising. His hands like pistons, fluid movement, hammering out the timeless beat. A Legend but working hard for it.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #33. Dr John.

2009-07-31T12:21:00.001-07:00

Dr John. Clapham Common Bandstand. 1984

Free gig on Clapham Common. The stage was the Victorian bandstand. The GLC was still in existence then so I imagine they paid for it, probably in the belief that allowing free access to Culture of all kinds would improve people’s lives. How quaint. Good thing the Tories stamped that sort of nonsense out. That evening I was due to fly to Mykonos with brother Ewan, having spent the summer vacation working for SunMed, who specialised in Greek holidays, and earned a free holiday for two. So, in quite a good mood all told.

The support acts, Diz & the Doormen and Balham Alligators, were pub-rockers always appearing in London at venues like the Half Moon, Putney. Some of them probably still are. Gigs were long affairs back then, especially when you got there early to see support acts. Don’t bother nowadays.

About 5 O’clock the band started and there was Dr John with his feathers, bag of ju-ju (huh?) and big cane walking up to the bandstand. I knew he was a cult figure from the Sixties, creating the persona of The Night Tripper and had appeared in the film, “The Last Waltz”. And that was it really. It was all ‘Nawlins funky stew and sugar-po-nah-nah. Bit too smooth in parts. He did some beautiful solo piano which I recognized from an LP I’d bought. Boogie-woogie and some slower blues. Amazing sound. It was “muso” but good! We were near the front but couldn’t quite see his fingers on the keys. Shame.

Before catching the plane we had time to have some food with my old skool mate, Bill, who lived around the corner. Nice one.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #32. The Cure.

2009-07-31T12:20:00.000-07:00

The Cure Edinburgh 1984

The Playhouse was a lovely old theatre. Flatmate Craig had worked there as a night security man before coming to Stirling. We bought a dozen Cure tickets for the Music Society, which we were running, but nobody wanted them. So, I ended up going. I liked the early singles but things like the “Pornography” album was horrible Gothic dirge.

Possibly the most boring live band ever. Nothing but dry-ice, green and purple lights and motionless black-clad figures. They did “10.15”, “A Forest” and “Killing An Arab”, which were fine. But these songs were 6 years old. And at that age 6 years is a lifetime. They carried on having hits with great videos by Tim Pope but I felt their day had been and gone. “Better live, prefer their old stuff” was a common phrase amongst us hip Kidz, ‘cept the Cure weren’t better live.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #31. The Gun Club.

2009-07-31T12:19:00.000-07:00

Gun Club Edinburgh Oct 1984

I bought the first Gun Club album based on an NME review. Found a copy in Boots, Andover, same time as the first Cramps album, also bought based on an NME review. Must have had a groovy record buyer at Boots who read the same reviews. Loved both albums. The Gun Club sounded ancient but bang up to date. Savage blues shouting and fierce guitar. The finest psychobilly. “Sex Beat” is a classic. Jeffrey Lee Pierce was the main man. Shock of long dyed blond hair. Other than a few photos we didn’t know what the band looked like.

And here they were playing a naff night club in Edinburgh.

The Hoochie Coochie Club was small, low ceilinged, red velvet, chrome tables with big bouncers in tuxedos and dicky bows. Pay your money at the door and in. Mix of psychobillies, students, Goths and rockers. Band came on late and the audience were baying for it. The stage was about a foot tall with silver tinsel at the back, like a stripper revue. Which it probably was. Tiny, loud, rough sounding PA. Crowd surged forward. Bouncers pushing everyone back. Gig stopped. No violence as such, just bouncers worried about the band being swamped.

Patricia Morrison was on bass. An Amazon of a woman with red lips, back combed fright wig, leather and studs. Glamorous but hard. Her and Poison Ivy of the Cramps were strong women in a male world. They looked sexy in a 50s B-Movie way but they weren’t there for fluff. They could play. In that sense they’re probably important as feminist Icons. It was OK to feel turned on by them, without the usual “objectification of women” guilt. They were cool.

Jeffrey Lee was cool personified. Ultimately drugs killed him but, then, he was still young and reasonably beautiful. The authentic whiff of the Swamp about him. Dirty slide guitar. Howled lyrics. Big rockabilly beat but demented. Crowd really behind them. Big attack guitar solos mere inches from people’s sweating faces. “Fire On The Mountain” was dynamic, a huge stop-start riff of a song. This was proper hard, heavy Rock. The Pixies learnt a lot from them. American guitars, drenched in the sound of that Continent. From Robert Johnson to Punk. The Smiths? Wimps.

A great band and the missing link between Gene Vincent and The White Stripes. Keef says he wants written on his gravestone: “He passed it on”. Jeffrey Lee did. Legends in my book.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #30. Jazz Butcher.

2009-07-31T12:17:00.000-07:00

The Jazz Butcher. ICA London Dec 1984

The ICA on The Mall, Buck House at the end of the road, right at the heart of The Empire. It didn’t seem possible to have malarkey like live music in such close proximity to Brenda. A week of gigs at the ICA. The Jesus & Mary Chain played and famously had a riot the night before this gig. The Pogues played the night after. We went see the Jazz Butcher. The “Scandal In Bohemia” album was a great blast of sunny humourous pop, akin to Jonathan Richman and the Woodentops but sarkier. It had a great cover by Savage Pencil, one of the UK’s top music cartoonists along with Ray Lowry. Songs like “Southern Mark Smith” and “Real Men From Leeds” were caustic but catchy. Lines like,”he wore trousers made entirely out of the skins of dead Jim Morrisons” were daft but in a Robyn Hitchcock, wry sort of way. Even the name was a piss-take.

The ICA was then old skool Arts establishment. Now it’s all theme nights in the bar, DJs, proper restaurant. A night out, like going to a posh pub. Then, small dark venue. It reminded me of the theatre at my old College.

Not that many people there. The Jazz Butcher came on and it was very muted. The sound mix and the songs were not light or jolly. There were gags but a lot darker than the album. It reminded me of the Barracudas, whose first album was frothy pop and then they got serious. Well, if was good enough for the Beatles…

Microdisney were great to watch. The guitarist had a Fender painted the same as James Burton’s, Elvis’ guitarist, all purple and fuschia swirlyness. The singer was called Cathal, who wore a cord jacket with a book in the pocket and looked like A Poet. A stamping, neck-vein throbbing, Irishman Poet. He was hilarious but also quite intimidating. The guitar playing was country tinged while Cathal ranted. Uncle Greg grew up in Derry and got his persona instantly. Microdisney mutated into Fatima Mansions later, named after a grotty estate in Dublin, and had songs like “Ciao Ceausescu” after the death of the Romanian dictator and “Only Losers Take the Bus” after Thatcher’s famous line. Angry, shouty Catholic fun. Righteous spleen. Both bands were typical NME fodder really. Few good tunes, good live shows but out of step with the mainstream. John Peel territory: small but perfectly formed.

The older I get the more bands seem like books. Everyone’s got one in them. To make a Number 1 record is every schoolkid’s dream. To be adored. So, if you have a chance of recording and playing live with a band then you’ve done it. You’ve written a book! Like a book, it can’t be unwritten. Time captured in music and word. To be able to do it really well is special. These guys were an entertaining read.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #29.Ege-Bam-Yasi.

2009-07-31T12:15:00.000-07:00

Ege-Bam-Yasi. Stirling Uni 1984

Another Allnighter.

Ege-Bam-Yasi were named after a Can album and consisted of a bald bloke in leather troos, stripped to the waist ranting over a backing track of metal bashing beats accompanied by a Dominatrix clad harpy, wailing away. He was smeared in baby-oil and she started whipping him. He got a nasty smack across the head and it really made him flinch but he battled on. Weird. They got mentioned in the NME every now again.

I wandered into the folk room full of people lying on the floor, stoned, and a guy playing a Neil Young song with a very pissed bloke bawling into the mic trying to sing along. “Helpless, helpless, helpless!”. “Aye, hopeless,” came a voice at the back. Scots humour.

Rip, Strip & Fuck It played one song before the whole evening was cancelled when the police arrived following a stabbing somewhere at the party. Irate pissed people arguing wi’ tha polis. Now they have gun amnesties, but back then a stabbing was quite rare. It was a shock. The Real World could be ugly.

Allnighters were stopped after that.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #28. Aztec Camera.

2009-07-31T12:14:00.002-07:00

Aztec Camera Edinburgh Dec 1983

Aztec Camera was basically Roddy Frame who was the Boy Wonder of Scottish pop. He was part of the Postcard sound like Orange Juice ‘cept he was only 18! Younger than us! Bastard.

Queen’s Hall was an old church laid out with a circular balcony and pew seating. Lovely little venue. Sold out gig just before Xmas so everyone was in a good mood. Pleasant jangley stuff like Orange Juice but better than the Farmer’s Boys. Real talent and lovely semi-acoustic guitar. “Pillar To Post” was wise beyond its years. The encore was just Roddy playing “Down The Dip”. Dig it out. Top tune.

Roddy later had a Top 10 hit with Mick Jones and pretty much retired at the age of 30.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #27. The Farmers Boys.

2009-07-31T12:14:00.001-07:00

Every gig I've Ever Seen #27

Farmer’s Boys Stirling Uni1983

Another band that were the alternative to Duran Duran and Chart shite. Except they weren’t really. Students basically. More jingle jangle tweeness. Altered Images and The Higsons were also of that ilk. The only thing I remember was the singer having specs, wearing a jumble sale raincoat and eating yoghurt during one song. Pointless, wet nonsense.

I’m not sure but I think this was the gig where Andrea danced at the disco later. She always danced but this was early days and this night she ruled the dance floor. Not in a Britney way but just graceful, fluid, cool moves. Skipping, stepping, sliding over the floor. She made it look so easy. Most girls did the handbag shuffle. Years later I met someone who remembered her dancing that night too and how cool she’d looked. Especially for an English woman too, ken but, ho, by the way…

Every gig I've Ever Seen #26. The Bluebells.

2009-07-31T12:12:00.001-07:00

Bluebells Stirling University 1983

My first term at Big Skool. Went with Craig who was my next-door neighbour in Halls. We’d met when I’d asked him how big an A4 piece of paper was (meaning the actual dimensions) and he went “about this big” holding his hands out like a fisherman. Doh! Anyway, he was my age (19) and into the same bands, which was a result as everyone else was 17 and away from home for the first time ever, pissing away a student grant. In those days fees were paid through taxes and you could claim dole money and rent during the holidays! Thatcher put an end to that and Phony Blair did the rest. It’s weird now to meet 30 year olds who are still paying off loans and debts from their student days. Education was/is a right so when Blair went on about “education, education, education” you just knew he was a c*nt...

I digress. Pathfoot Hall was the University’s concert venue and original refectory. They had all-nighters once a term. Townies came in so it had a mix. People from the real world. Some of them probably living a False Consciousness. Or so it said in our books.

The Bluebells were a Scottish indie-pop band in the vein of Orange Juice and had been on TOTP with “Young At Heart,” (which made Number 1 years later after being used in a VW advert). Nice, clean, ironed check shirts, tidy haircuts, jangley guitars. What happened to The Clash?!

And that was about it. Lots of milling about, getting progressively drunker into the wee hours of the morning, watching the rugby lads dancing to bad disco.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #24. The Go-Betweens.

2009-07-31T12:10:00.001-07:00

Go Betweens. 1983

The Everyman is the oldest rep cinema in the world and in the early 80s was still a one screen flea pit. Someone had the idea of a week of gigs and each band chose their favourite film as a support act. So, I’d bought the debut album “Cattle & Cane” (on Rough Trade) after reading an NME review, so, we thought, let’s go. It was A Sunday. We didn’t have all-day opening then so doing anything on a Sunday felt weird.

The film, I think, was “Washington Square”. It was great seeing an old black and white movie on the big screen. Then the band ambled on and played a short set with only a few lights for atmos. It was a quiet crowd. Sitting in an old cinema was not normal for a gig. Jerky, fractured little songs and they had a lady bass-player. A lady anything was still a rarity.. always felt with the Go Betweens that I should like them but they were a little bit undanceable and slow and “arty”. The gig was enjoyable though.

Years later I went to a filming of a TV show called “Songwriter’s Circle” at the Subterania in Ladbrook Grove. That night they had Chrissie Hynde, Nick Cave AND John Cale all playing their back catalogue, solo and acoustic. Amazing stuff. I’d clocked Robert Forster earlier on the Portobello road, thinking, “I know him”. Later at the bar I got chatting to him and his mate who turned out to be Grant McClellan, also of the Go Betweens. They remembered the Everyman gig well and said the film hadn’t been there first choice but they were just thrilled to be playing in London, having only settled here from New Zealand the year before.

Not long after Grant dropped down dead at a BBQ back home in NZ. Not my fault, I swear…

Every gig I've Ever Seen #23. John Otway.

2009-07-31T12:09:00.001-07:00

John Otway. Kings Head, Fulham 1983

After 6 months on the pig farm, post ‘A’-levels, and a morose Christmas in Scotland spent mainly walking in the woods, stoned on Black Leb, listening to sad Fairport Convention songs on a cheap Walkman, things had to change. A chance meeting in a pub after Xmas and suddenly I was sharing a flat in London with Christopher John Dry, The Vicar’s son. A disgusting basement bedsit in Earl’s Court with, no lie, an inch of fag-butts and cat-shit on the carpet, rented from a Mr Malty. Horace next door collected the rent and we scored hash off his girlfriend. By a weird quirk of fate, my brother ended up sharing an attic bedsit the following year in the same building. Half the size for the same rent.

Anyway, the first gig we saw was John Otway at the King’s Head. It was close, it was cheap and I had a copy of “Really Free”, his only hit. Otway was the original One-Hit Wonder to the extent his autobiography was named just that . His stage act hasn’t changed in over 30 years. He started on the pub-rock and College circuit and had his big break appearing on The Old Grey Whistle Test, where he climbed the lighting rig and fell off an amp. A water-cooler moment if ever there was one. Well, there were only 3 TV channels in those days…

We loved it. Jumping off step-ladders, somersaulting across the floor, head butting his mic, playing 2 top halves from different Gibson SGs screwed together, gurning. The ultimate geek, like a kid showing off with limited talent.

We went 4 weeks in a row and the audiences got bigger each week. Nice, friendly crowd, lots of beer and laughter. He played his 3,000^thgig at the Royal Albert Hall in about 2000 and I took Sam, my wife, to see him at The Venue, Kentish Town in 2004. A pub venue with about 40 blokes of a certain age, with lots of beer and laughter. I got a great photo of a very sweaty Otway trying to kiss her. Nice.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #22. Bo Diddley.

2009-07-31T12:07:00.000-07:00

Bo Diddley. Lyceum.1983

The Lyceum had been one of London’s bigger concert venues and hosted everyone from the Stones to Captain Beefheart. Lennon played his first post Beatle gig there. Saw an advert for Bo Diddley and told loads of mates that we should go. It was a Sunday, which was unusual, but years later I realised that Sundays are cheaper to hire for promoters. Bo Diddley was legend but the appeal was, ahem, more selective by the early 80s. First rule of Fame: keep doing what you’re famous for and you’ll eventually become fashionable again.

Quite a large group of us went and we spent the afternoon getting ripped at home. Got to the venue and sat in the balcony. Gorgeous old theatre and heaving. Loads of rockabillies with the quiffs, check shirts, jeans-with-turn-ups bought from Flip.

First band on were King Kurt who’d had a small hit and TOTP appearance with the slap-stick rockabilly, “Destination Zululand”. They had enormous quiffs and played it for laughs. The mosh-pit was a blur of flailing limbs due to the fashion for punching your arms out in time to the music. The guitarist had a huge piece of rectangular cardboard stuck over his guitar in a homage to Bo’s guitar of the same shape. They improvised some lyrics which included, “Bo Diddley, Show Us Your Willy!” Last song saw bags of flour thrown all over the band and front row. And feathers. A real mess. The only time I’ve ever seen a stage swept before the next act.

Next act was The Pirates. Mick Green was the original heavy rock guitar hero. They’d had one massive hit in “Shakin’ All Over” in about 1573 which guaranteed them Rock immortality. Johnny Kidd, who’d originally led the group, was long dead. A power trio, now, dressed in bouncers’ tuxedos. They looked like big burly blokes coz they were. They were great. Really heavy R&B.

Then, Bo Diddley. Now he really did help write the Book! Wow. Chuck, Bo and, er, Little were the holy trinity of black rocknrollers. And here he was! His guitar sound was incredible. Really loud, dirty, then soft. He fiddled with the knobs and made it “talk”. He did some robotics which got the crowd going. The pounding beat was great and it wasn’t prettied up. This was the beat copied by the Stones and all those other bands learning their craft in the distant dawn of the Sixties. The Stones toured the UK with Bo in 1963 and he told them to keep at it, don’t give up. Maybe it was the young, rowdy crowd but all the other times I saw him he was more bluesy and didn’t really play the old hits. If he did they were done softer. This night he rocked.

Cracking stuff and our gang enjoyed it, which pleased me as it had been on my say-so that we went. Vanity? I’d spread the Word. Unlike previous generations we can go back and hear the old recordings and see the archive of Rock. 100 years from now people will be able to get an idea of how Bo Diddley looked and sounded. You can’t do that with Victorian Music Hall or Shakespearean actors circa 1600. If I’m ever a grand-parent I can speak of how I saw some of the Greats and they’ll be able to click, download and see what I’m talking about. And, yea, the Greats will live on. And Bo Diddley IS one of the Greats. Even if, sadly, he is dead.

The Lyceum closed down for years and re-opened with The Lion King, based on the Disney cartoon film of the same name, with music by Elton John…

Every gig I've Ever Seen #20. UK Subs.

2009-07-31T12:03:00.000-07:00

UK Subs. Greyhound, Fulham. June. 1983.

The UK Subs were part of the second wave of Punk along with bands like The Angelic Upstarts and The Exploited. The uniform was becoming set with studded leather jackets, tartan trousers, Mohican haircuts. They had a few good singles but lacked the talent, basically. This gig was billed as the “Original UK Subs” so they were already reforming then!

The Greyhound was part of the alternative music scene. Although basically a pub it was on a par with The Red Lion, Hope & Anchor, The Nashville, Dingwalls, Marquee and 100 club as a live venue. If you look through old NMEs or Melody Makers from the late 70s you’ll see all the punk bands played there.

But it was basically a pub. The crowd was mainly blokes, with a Skin Head contingent and a real sense of unease. I remember feeling a bit hick-from-the-sticks but a room full of 19 year-olds, drinking and listening to loud, shouty music is going to be a bit charged anyway.

Punk as a fashion had passed. New Romantics had taken over, Thatcher had snatched an election after The Falklands, Greenham Common was protested, the Miners were about to get fucked over and, by extension, the whole Trade Union movement, unemployment had gone past 2 million. Jubilee Hall, opposite the Houses of Parliament on the South Bank, was once home to the Greater London Council, run by “Red” Ken Livingstone. They had a huge banner facing Parliament which they updated weekly with the latest unemployment figures. It got to 4 million. Thatcher eventually scrapped the GLC and all the other City Councils nationally because they were Labour controlled. Fuck the poor, basically.

So, a lot of the audience were the disaffected youth we’d heard all these songs about. Yeah, yeah, I know, that sounds like prissy, soft, middle-class Southern pansy. But it was true. I did grow up in the affluent South. Andover’s unemployment was so low one month, (34 people out of a total of 60,000), that my step-father, Guthrie, was interviewed as a member of the business community to explain this phenomena, on Radio 4! Chris and I signed-on when we first got to London and the first visit to the Fulham dole office was scary. It was grim. The interview booths had security glass. When I see footage of slums overseas I get the same sense of hopelessness that I got in that building.

Angry. And that’s what the UK Subs were. The sound was pretty dire, the tunes a bit samey, the vocals rough. “Tomorrow’s Girls” was fun. I had that with picture sleeve AND blue vinyl, nyah. People pogo-ed and jumped around. It was fun. Kids letting off steam. It reminded me of playing British Bulldog at judo classes when I was about 10.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #16. Steve Harley.

2009-07-31T11:56:00.000-07:00

Steve Harley. Venue 1983

Flatmate Chris had a live Steve Harley album, “Face to Face”, which we listened to. Well, a few tracks. “Best Years of our Lives” was a good song. The album cover was Steve looking over his shoulder. Cockney Rebel had one stone-cold classic in “Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me)”, which I remember being Number 1. “Mr Soft” had been on TOTP but wasn’t as good. Steve Harley had been a music journalist and seemed to get a lot of stick for his attitude. Interviews with him were terse affairs. Other than that I knew nothing about him.

We saw the gig advertised and went along. The Venue was an old theatre opposite Victoria Station and had opened as a rock venue. We had balcony seats and about a minute before he came on Chris said; ”You do know he’s got a crippled foot from polio?” And suddenly there he was. Steve. And he was wearing socks but no shoes and had an awkward gait. Receding hair. Songs like “Sebastian” suddenly made sense. Jerky, rhythms that he could dance to without seeming different. That’s not true, but it seemed that way. The physical presence changed the songs completely. He sang in an exaggerated Mockney too which added to the theatrical sense of oddness.

Don’t remember much of it to be honest. I recognized some from the live album but the majority weren’t “instant” songs. And not knowing them too well made them hard work. It wasn’t punk. He played “Make Me Smile” with a big crowd sing-a-long. His song, his audience. He wrote that and it’s Legend. I felt jealous. One-hit wonder? At least he had one.

The Venue closed down as a rock venue and staged Starlite Express for years.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #15. Wishbone Ash.

2009-07-31T11:54:00.000-07:00

Wishbone Ash. Guildford Civic. 1982

Guildford Civic Hall was part of the Seventies Rock circuit. Touring bands always played there and De Montford Hall, Leicester and Aylesbury Friars. My mum worked with Christine Brett at a local school. She was raised in London with her twin sister, Pauline, and they were teenagers in the Sixties. They saw The Who at some of their famous Tuesday night gigs at The Marquee. The band played a residency there and that’s where they made their name. One of the reasons The Marquee was “legendary”. So, Christine was just that little bit younger and groovier than my Mum.

Pauline had 2 spare tickets to see Wishbone Ash in Guildford. She gave them, gratis, to me and my mate Smelly. He used to wear a leather jacket with bits of motorbike hanging off it, which could topple a chair over due to its weight. “Urgh. You’re a Smelly!” said Selina and the name stuck. I call him Mark now. So, the four of us went to see some real time-ish Seventies Rock.

The ladies sat in the balcony. Me and Smelly got down onto the floor. A proper rocker crowd. And hippies. Patchouli oil and pot. Flares. Long centre-parted hair. The sort of people who’d go and see Hawkwind. Which is odd as Wishbone Ash are fairly soft rock, all things considered. I had one album, “Argus”, with a gate-fold sleeve adorned on the cover with a cloaked, ancient Sentry wearing a wraparound metal Viking-type helmet, holding a spear and looking out over miles of misty mountains. Far out. 10 minute “songs” with titles like “Time Was”. There was only one song I really liked; “Blowin’ Free”. It was a rocker in The Grateful Dead’s, “Truckin’” mode. Smelly knew a bit more of their stuff.

Wishbone Ash was like a load of Seventies band in the early Eighties: is that it? Videos cost money, we’re ugly and the Man won’t pay anyway. They were already doing greatest hits tours in all but name. You didn’t hear them on the radio. No BBC6 Digital or Mojo Radio or podcasting or MySpace then. If you were lucky you’d built up a back catalogue that sold and hadn’t spunked all the money you’d made. Sure, it was a living but how long could they sustain it?

The Ash was revered in that they were one of the first British bands to have dual lead-guitarists. Two axes! Like, wow! Andy Powell, who wore specs and played a Gibson Flying V, and the other guy. Thin Lizzy came later. Status Quo had dual rhythm guitarists. There was a little bit of Spinal Tap-ness about them, even before the film came out. Musoes. If you like long solos, just like on the record, Ash were your men. In fairness my appreciation is soiled by the sense that they were an “elder brother’s band” and anyway I liked harder, faster stuff. That said “something”. Student angst.

Not knowing their stuff, I just watched them play their instruments. Some of it was pleasant enough but a bit Prog I thought. The song l liked had a middle-eight where the guitars really took off on a flying boogie. And they fluffed it. They laughed and carried on. They were human.

Looking back I reckon that, had I been a few years older, I wouldn’t have gone for it. I’d be listening to Lou Reed, Bowie, Roxy Music. The good shit. I hope. Still, I got to see a Second Division Seventies Rock band you’ve heard of. At least they weren’t Uriah Heep

Every gig I've Ever Seen #13. Joan Jett.

2009-07-31T11:49:00.000-07:00

Joan Jett.Marquee.

Joan was part of the Runaways who were the first big all-girl Rawk group. Joan had hit Number#1 in the post-Punk world, with “I Love Rock’n’Roll”. Big, dumb riff, almost like a Gary Glitter song. Even then I knew it wasn’t “real” but at least it was “rock” and had guitars and wasn’t like the rest of the shite in the charts. I went with my girlfiend at the time, Lucinda, who lived in London and had an elder brother who was plugged into the scene. Well, he was 19 and into music and knew a couple of minor new wave stars. Anyway, off we went to the Marquee.

Don’t really remember much about the gig apart from the “Hit”, which we all gleefully sang along to. She was dressed in leather trousers and had a tattoo on her arm. This was strange indeed. Tattoos are everywhere now and nobody bats an eye. Back then Working Class people had tattoos. It was a real sign of which side of the tracks you were on. Now, it’s all Celtic scrolls and Japanese daubs just above ladies arse-cracks. They’ll regret it.

And, er, that’s it really. All I can really remember is thinking how small Joan Jett was and that she had a skinny bottom. Not very PC but, hey, I was young.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #12. Pretty Things.

2009-07-31T11:48:00.000-07:00

Pretty Things. The Marquee. 1982

A coach from my college was going up to London cheap so we went. Found the Marquee as I knew the band was playing there, having seen the advert in Melody Maker (RIP). They were Big in the Sixties, kinda. The band were my age now (40-something) and probably trying really hard but it wasn’t The Clash. Horrible, sludgy blues rock. Crap sound. Nobody there. The Marquee was legendary but it was a toilet really. Bought a T-shirt half-price from one of the band’s wives at the front door and wore it for years

Every gig I've Ever Seen #9. The Troggs.

2009-07-31T11:44:00.000-07:00

The Troggs. Thruxton. 1981

The Troggs are from Andover, my home town. I can go anywhere on the planet and hear “Wild Thing” and have my chest swell with pride. Andover’s not famous for anything else. So, The Troggs are local boys. My Mum taught Reg Presley’s daughter French at the Winton School. Reg Presley missed the premiere of “Love, Actually”. He was invited as he’d written “Love Is All Around” which was covered in the film. Wet Wet Wet did a version that spent 15 weeks at Number #1, when Number #1 still meant something. Reg turned the invite down as he was Andover’s Town Mayor and had been asked to open that year’s town carnival. Good man.

The Troggs didn’t play that much in the UK. They weren’t Rock Gods a la The Stones. Or even The Hollies. Sort of band that played Germany occasionally but had proper jobs. The venue was the bar underneath the stand at Thruxton race circuit, just outside Andover. The band looked like Dads you’d see in Andover. I didn’t know any songs other than I Can’t Control Myself and Wild Thing. Wild Thing was played for laughs. After the opening riff Reg shouted “Wait for it!” in his Hampshire burr, just before the first line. “Now!” and we all sang along. It was fun but it wasn’t punk.

If you ever get the chance listen to the “Troggs’ Tape”, a much bootlegged recording of the band arguing in the studio in the 70s. It’s like a bunch of farmers and gives an idea of where they were coming from.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #5. Nils Lofgren.

2009-07-31T11:38:00.000-07:00

Nils LofgrenPortsmouth Guildhall. 1979

A friend’s sister had a spare ticket so I went. Knew nothing about him. We listened to his live album before we went and I liked “Cry Tough” and “Keith Don’t Go,” which was about Keef’s drug bust in Toronto. A few tunes worked but it was all AOR and I was a punk, innit. Also they put seating into the Guidhall which was, like, sitting down, maaan! Hippies. He came on in shades and scarfs tied onto his wrists. Uh-oh. Looking back there was probably a lotta coke going on. He played his guitar behind his head and with his teeth and whilst jumping up and down on a little trampoline. Huh? A session man who’s worked with Neil Young, Lou Reed, Springsteen and others, but never really made it solo. He’s diddy too. Tiny. I wonder if I’d appreciate it more now. Perish the thought.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #4. The Jam.

2009-07-31T11:36:00.000-07:00

THE JAM. 1979

The Jam along with the Stranglers were the bollocks at my school. The filmQuadropheniahad come out and suddenly everyone was singing, “We are the Mods. We are the Mods. We are, We are, We are the Mods!” Catchy. “All Mod Cons”, the difficult third album, had come out and we loved it. It still sounds good today.

Butterflies in the stomach. We’re really going to see them, famous people and everything! Time drags at that age and the weeks beforehand certainly dragged. The day arrived. We charged straight to the front to assume the position. The Records supported who were poppy but looked suspiciously old. Years later found out it was Will Birch from Kursaal Flyers (a pubrock band) who later wrote for Mojo and other such Dad Rock mags.

Then, The Jam. The only thing they didn’t do was jump in the air, which they were famous for. They’d grown up. For a 3 piece they made an enormous sound. Rick Buckler, or “the supremely beautiful Rick Buckler” as he was once described, played big solid drums. He now drums in a Jam tribute band. Weird.

Anyway, Paul Weller was all cool and speed. Chewing gum non-stop he blasted at his Rickenbacker and spat out the words. And we knewall the words. We were so close you could see spit flying out his mouth and sweat running down his face. Bruce Foxton had bad skin, seemed a lot shorter than in the photos but still looked cool.

About half-way through our little gang led a crowd singalong of “Happy Birthday” to Weller who was 21 on the 25^th. (21!?!) It spread through the whole Guildhall and I remember feeling chuffed that we started it. Weller chewed his gum until we’d finished. “Cheers. This is the Modern World!” and straight into the song. Cool. Years later I went to the filming of an invite-only gig where Weller was doing songs off his covers album, Studio 182. I saw an old geezer with a quiff and recognised him as Weller’s dad, John. Had a lovely chat with him and mentioned that gig. And he remembered it too! At the time he managed the band and introduced them at every gig. Having a crowd sing happy birthday to your son is something a parent doesn’t forget, I suppose. You could see the pride and love he had for his boy.

It was a great gig. The Jam hadn’t quite gone mega but were about to break through. They were still “ours”. Looking back you can see the ambition. Weller wrote songs. “All Mod Cons” had proved that. They played most of the singles, most of the albums and some B-sides, including their version of “Batman”! Highlight was at the end when dry ice filled the venue and the loud sound of tube trains came out of the speakers. No-one bats an eye, or ear, at taped sounds these days but back then it was unusual. “Down In The Tube Station At Midnight” rocketed by. Feedback, an extended drum solo, the end. Superb.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #3. Thin Lizzy.

2009-07-31T11:35:00.000-07:00

Thin Lizzy. 1979

Although I was just right for Punk there was still a lot of “old” music that we liked. This included Black Sabbath, Quo, Deep Purple, bits of Genesis and Thin Lizzy. The power of the riff. Hours head-banging with tennis rackets. We made our own entertainment in those days. Thin Lizzy were really big by 1979 having shifted plenty units of a live double album, which went triple titanium or something and put them in the Big Boys league. They didn’t feel like an elder brother’s band either as the other bands had basically had their glory days. Ah, fickle public. Lizzy were also unusual in that Phil Lynott, singer and bass player, was Black and Irish. Still an unusual combination today. Or is it like Scotland? “Racism? Och no. No Blacks, no problem”.

Went with skool mate Chris “Pidge” Pigeon – see what we did there? Anyway, straight down the front. Gary Moore was in the band at this stage. After Bryan Adams, probably the worst skin in rock. Crowd were mainly greasers and rockers wearing flares and leather jackets with sleeveless denim jackets over the top, covered in badges. “Branding” is a word that everyone knows now but in the 1970s Rock bands invented the idea of the logo and all the associations of branding: recognition; community; trust; dependability; status; aspiration etc. Just a thought. Heavy metal crowds tend to be friendly as you’re all there for the same reason and, thus, Good People. It’s hard to be sniffy and aloof with such unsubtle music…

Band came on with the guitarists, Scott Gorham and Gary Moore, playing enormous kettle drums either side of the stage. This was a tune from their new studio album, “Black Rose”. The lights were amazing!! Compared to today the light show was pony, (a fact proven when I saw bits of an old Lizzy “Rock Comes to College” gig on TV in 2006). But then it was the best I’d seen. Lots of lights, burning your face off. And they went with the music! And the band’s logo, made out of hundreds of bulbs, lit up behind the drummer!! We were getting our money’s worth. Lynott stood centre stage, light bouncing off the mirror plate of his Fender Precision bass. He did the gag from the live LP. “Anybody here with any Oirish in them? Any of da girls want some more Oirish in them?” Geddit?!

They were feckin’ great! “Jailbreak” with all the sirens, “Dancing in the Moonlight”, “Don’t Believe a Word”, “Rosalie”, “Boys Are Back in Town”!! Proper Rock.

There was a fashion at skool to make necklaces out of leather boot-laces, as worn by the Stranglers. I threw mine at Phil. Dunno why. He flinched, as you would, but picked it up and put it on. A bit later while he was slapping outstretched hands I caught his eye, pointing at my neck and then his. He understood, smiled and we slapped flesh. Righteous.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #2. The Stranglers.

2009-07-31T11:31:00.000-07:00

The Stranglers. 1978

The Stranglers. For some reason they were huge at my school. Their brand of black attire, Doors-esque keyboards, big bass sound and nasty demeanour appealed to us Grammar Skool boys. Misogyny was mentioned in the press but we knew it was all a joke. And if Bob Dylan could slag the lay-deez then it must be alright! I spent most of my O-Level summer (1980, proper O-levels!) listening to the “Black and White” album. This was my first indoor gig and only my second gig ever. I had butterflies for weeks beforehand.

We got to Portsmouth hours before the doors opened. Sunday afternoon in Portsmouth in 1978. Not a lot to do. Time dragged as we waited. I got gobbed on by a scary Big Kid – although I was 6’2” by then and probably could’ve duffed him up. Still, it got the adrenaline pumping. Gigs were scary in those days. There was always a group of Skinheads up for aggro. Portsmouth was/is hard. “Hello, Hello, Pompey Aggro, Pompey Aggro!” as the football chant went. National Front graffiti everywhere.

Met an American lady who was “with the band” and seemed very nice. Went for a pee and met The Skids getting out of their van. Richard Jobson, the singer, was only 17 then but seemed really grown up. Stuart Adamson, the guitarist, later formed Big Country, had big hits, then committed suicide. Sad.

Went for another pee behind the venue and there was Hugh Cornwell getting out of his Ford Estate! “Have you got a pen?” I asked. “Yes, thanks”, came the sarky reply. He signed my ticket which was then taken at the door. Put in a box with all the others to be counted later. Oh no! I wrote to the venue afterwards and asked them to look for my ticket. They posted me one back but, alas, no autograph. Years later I met Hugh at a book launch and told him the story. He laughed and was a complete gentleman, weirdly enough.

The Skids were supporting and did a great version of “Walk On The Wildside”. We were right down the front, getting squashed, pulled from side to side. I had a 3-inch band of belt dye on my stomach afterwards.

The Stranglers came on and for the first 10 minutes I couldn’t make out a thing! It was the loudest thing I’d ever heard. Steam was rising off bodies. The bass sound was enormous. Jean Jaques Burnel did his standing-on-one-leg dance and between songs picked at a scab where his bass kept rubbing on his arm. Hugh threw Dolly Mixtures out while singing, “would you like a sweetie?” I kept some for years. Strobe lights! “Hanging Around” and “Down In The Sewer” were immense, all swirling Hammond organ and HUGE drums. Strippers came on for “Nice’n’Sleazy”. Real breasts but no lady rug and, hey, isn’t that the nice American lady?!

A proper rock gig. I’d entered another world. Powerful, exciting stuff and a complete rite of passage.

Every gig I've Ever Seen #1. Bob Dylan.

2009-07-31T11:22:00.000-07:00

Bob Dylan Blackbush, 1978

Bob Dylan. My first gig, aged 14. We had a mate who lived in nearby Fleet so we stayed at his parents’ house. Queued for hours to get in with our beer and fags - no ganja in those days! I remember going down the front for Graham Parker. Well, front and 100 yards to the right, up against the fence). "Hey Lord Don't Ask Me Questions" was great and I remember thinking "Fuck.That's loud!" Having never been to a gig or stood next to a huge PA before I was a bit scared.

Most of the day was long and boring as we couldn't see anything and the sound was constantly blown around.... it was a big, flat aerodrome. You'd think someone would have realised. Clapton got a big cheer and we recognized a few tunes like “Cocaine”. Again, couldn't see much and the sound wasn't great. I remember seeing a "Clapton is God" sign and not really getting it. Still don't...

After an enormous wait there he was! Bum Dildo!! That was the pet name we had. Ah, youth. Most of the songs I didn't know, until years later when I got into Dylan properly. Looking at the set list today it was a great Greatest Hits show! The only bit I remember with real clarity was the acoustic section when a German guy let me use his binoculars (damn, why hadn't we thought of that?!). I remember “Gates of Eden” and “It's Alright Ma” with Bob in his battered top hat. Weirdly the wind dropped so we heard these really clearly, especially the harmonica which did send a chill. For a brief moment I got a glimpse of why all these people were there and what Bob meant.

Took us hours to get back to our mate's house but the mince and mashed tatties that his Mum had waiting for us tasted magic! Years later I got a dodgy cassette bootleg and it sounded much like the day... muffled. Later that summer I stayed with an Aunt in Scotland and she had a battered old copy of “Bringing it All Back Home”. I played it non-stop.