The Gems, Joe Kane - Out to Play - Brel

Stagger in, halfway through the first act's set, after watching Laura Palmer's killer confess all on DVD, sure, we saw it coming, the evil that men do and all that, but there's still three discs of episodes to watch and all that business with the blue rose to address.

The place was kind of half full, the weather's braw so there are crowds outside. I must be about two thirds through the best years of my life and instead of talking to any of the beautiful women the weather brought out, I'm in here, scribbling in a notebook and trying to justify my review slates to Joe Kane. Maybe I can just awkward him out.

The guys with guitars at the front are too nice, too polite with their banter and song introductions. Jolly and forgettable.

This place reminds me of The Ceilidh Place in Ullapool, family holidays when I was real young, tonight is a night of regressing. God help me, I'm drowning in inescapable misplaced regret and strangling bitterness.

I'm not sure where I saw it, but Joe Kane was billed tonight as being a "local indie hero". It stands up, first with The Stunts who I understand played the Barrowlands, then with The Owsley Sunshine for many years. Was it three or four years ago they did The Owsley Sunshine Sub-Crawlin' thing, stopping for a pint at every underground station, finishing at the 13th Note for an epic gig. I'd caught up with them first at The Captain's Rest, first time I'd met most of that crowd. Vague drunken memories of Dom Newton getting kicked out of The Big Blue for playing the blues, rescuing Adam Plimp from leaping onto the underground tracks at Kelvinbridge and losing track of everyone at Brel.

Crumbs, somethings never change.

With the release of Watermelon, their third album, a year ago and the addition of a few more members, The Owsley Sunshine kind of discombobulated into a handful of bands, The Likes of Use, The Fast Camels, The Getset Go, and Only Joe Kane.

Ah, some chap called Beggan has hit the stage. They'd been billed as The Gems. My affection here pre-dates the mighty 'Sunch. Almost a decade ago, my favourite local band were Sound Buggy, playing King Tuts supporting tours almost every week.

They had a single called Lovelord with the b-sides, Another Emotion and Droppin' Out. I recorded me a cover of Droppin' Out the other week. I think Sound Buggy split in 2000. I'd accost their bass player, dreadlocked Tommy, in the street, regularly, and he explained that some of them were in a band called The Gems. So tonight, on stage, its just Eddie Beggan.

There's a lot of pop trying to escape from behind the acoustic guitar, you could hear it pleading in his voice, neat guitar work. He finished up with a cover of New Order's Blue Monday.

Joe Kane on stage, certain stabbing qualities to the guitar and vocals, from soft whispers to stabby vitriolic howls. Foot stomp percussion. His sixties, Kinksy, Beatles, Moody Blues, Orgone Box roots disolved and pwned as his own, the room is held enraptured. The hooks, riffs and nods are warm, fuzzy and familiar, much like his beard.

Conor Mason, The Just Joans, Willy Campbell - Out to Play - Brel

Brel, and I swear there's only ten gig-going people in this town. Colin off of the internet is here and a couple from The Hermit Crabs.

So I wandered in about two songs into the first guy's set, Connor Mason, and got busy scoping the crowd and the venue. We're in a conservatory, laid out with rows of chairs reminiscent of Sunday School. I was being distracted by flashing lights and poorly placed pot plants, but caught the odd glimpse of genius from the stage.

He was sat on a deck chair with semi-acoustic guitar abnd a harmonica round his neck. The sound in here is amazing, he was barely whispering but it came through clear and beautiful. Winsom and drify, caught floating through a dream.

The quiet bloke from the door shuffles to the front, near the stage and takes an empty seat in front of the whole audience, and indicates "one song left".

I make CDs for The Just Joans. They have poignant writ right through. Here, tonight, playing in the shadow of Glasgow university, Dave starts with 'Friday Afternoons', about drinking in the union as an undergraduate.

Och, Cool uncle Stu is here and possibly a member of B&S near the back, Ali's passing out fliers for Drunk at the Pulpit, I hardly recognised her with new hair style.

The whole Just Joans vibe sounds confessional, getting dumped, drunken indiscretions, losing friends, its all been carefully honed over the years. Chris on lead guitar, has played in countless other bands, tonight my favourite bit of his guitar craftis the wee descending line in 'Lookin' like Rain' on the third rep of 'Dumped by my lassie, down at the Strathy'.

The headline act of the night is Willy Campbell, with a backing band. I thought he sounded a bit like Joe Mac from Superstar, some weird pedal-induced vocal effects. Despite proclaimed nervousness, he had great rapport with the audience and his band: keyboard, second guitar and cello.

Actually, the girl on cello looked kinda familiar, I think she was an MSN contact of mine for a month or so two years back, we never spoke in real life, I think I once made eye contact with her twice at a gig, which is almost the same as talking.

Kind of magical songs, he kept on drifting away from the mic, but sang out so he barely needed it.