Loney dear - Old Blue Last

Not sure who this last chap is, headline billing, sounds Swedish, looks like my cousin Jimbo.

He's got a backing band out in the crowd but for the first song they're not really up for joining him so he has to resort to magic.

He plays a chord and gets the audience to all sustain it, Ab. Its a weird sensation, I'm at gig, but the sound is coming from all around. Sure, it drifts in and out as folk give up and then are roused once more as the chap on stage strums and plays along, but it wraps round me disconcertingly.

The band join him onstage for the next song, tuning up whilst he regales us with a tale of their exploits earlier in the day.

Its very light music, drifting and acoustic, but I'm not into it. There's a couple stood right in front of me, really caught up in each other's eyes, almost oblivious to the music. Giggling and chatting, gazing at each other's faces. They distract me too much from the music, so I leave.

Martin Carr - Old Blue Last

This is the first time I've seen Martin Carr since November 1996 at Manchester Uni with Julia Roe. I missed out on the Bravecaptain thing during the past ten years, save some track on an NME cover CD.

Anyhoo he's on stage right now, hair contained in a bobble hat, acoustic guitar cappoed on second fret and Mary providing backing vocals. Its quiet, laid back stuff. Some fancy fingering, but the strings are buzzing like a bad 'un.

It sound like you'd imagine acoustic Boos b-side demos would sound like, his voice so familiar, and wee flourishes where you can imagine the trumpets would be.

The audience were a bit noisy, a few bursts of silence breaking out during quiet bits, but then the chatter rising again. I wonder what other shows he's got lined up and what new material recorded.

When I got bored of the final band of the night, I found myself crossing the street at the same time as Martin Carr and for a few brief moments I considered the person I would be if not for him and his music. No Boo Radleys, no gig at the Manchester Academy in '95, no first girlfriend, no emotional scarring, no learning to play those songs on guitar, no endlessly going to gigs to try to find the magic like that show at the Academy, no gig review blog. And none of this...

Adam Donen and The Drought - Old Blue Last

So I'm stood near the bar at the Old Blue Last, sweating a wee bit, a few feet in front of me is Andrew the photographer and just to my right is a bloke who looks like Ed Byrne.

On stage is a chap with big permed hair, scary starey eyes and for this song, an acoustic guitar. Adam Donen presumably.

They have a slightly dischordant sound but nice thundering bass and celtic-ish violin, although in this case it would be called fiddle.

Its a little bit too blarry for my tastes as though hs shouting at the audience, but I don't get it.

Nice baaa backing vocals, and organish keyboards.

They had a book of poems and a CD, and album for sale, I neglected to buy a copy.

MJ Hibbett (My Exciting Life in Rock), Pete Green - The Cross Kings

Pete Green


MJ Hibbett


MJ Hibbett - It only works because you're here

Rip It Up: Pocketbooks, Davey Strange, Goodnight I Wish, Harvey Williams,The Postcards, Lodger, Theoretical Girl - The Socia

The Londonist website has a weekly gig round up, all the must see shows of the forthcoming seven days, with ticket prices from £8 (Pete and the Pirates) to £45 (Yazoo). This grossly misrepresents live music.

Tonight I am at The Social for Rip It Up, the Edwyn Collins/ Orange Juice tribute night, entry is 50p.

First on are Pocketbooks with a cover of "Consolation Prize". Andy the singing chap is a bit more fey than Edwyn was, and over on guitar Ian really gets into his guitar noddling. When they finish, the audience rise as one with the muttered cry of "What? Only one song each?".

How long ago was that Stephen Merrit / Magnetic Fields tribute night? That was a fair three songs each, it gave the bands time to find their groove. I'm apprehensive about the rest the night now.

I've just bought me a new notebook to write these reviews in, and have just given myself a papercut.

Davey Strange is on stage next, I don't know what the song is. I only know two Orange Juice / Edwyn Collins songs, maybe two and a half; Rip it Up, Girl Like You, and that Adidas one.

'Goodnight I Wish' were on next, a two piece, took ages to set up.

I just realised, my mobile phone is out of battery and I've no memory card in my camera, so no blurred black n white piccies tonight. Its all a bit of a shambles.

Not only are the bands all playing one song sets, but there's a 20 minute changeover time. Luckily some bands have dropped out, otherwise we'd be here all night.

Next up is Harvey Williams playing Dying Day. Tender keyboard /piano driven number, from a bearded seated gentleman. Kindof slow and not sure now it fitted with the faster songs DJ Ian from HDIF played before and after.

There's a familiar crowd in tonight, all HDIF, indiepop and Twee Ass-Fuck.

Ooh, next band have a quick turn over time, two guitars, bass and drums. They are The Postcards, playing Consolation Prize, mincing it up with spot on Edwyn vox. A bit boomy bass heavy where I was stood,but it was too crowded to move about much.

Not convinced by this new notebook, recycled paper, from Paperchase / Borders on Oxford Street. The paper's too dark to see writing on when I'm lurking in the shadows of a gig and the covers are too floppy to rest on. They flex unless you're resting on a hard surface. There's fucking hundreds of pages mind, so I could be stuck with this for a while.

The Lodger, have travelled all the way down from Leeds to play their one classic Orange Juice song, Can't Help Myself. Last time I saw The Lodger was at The Windmill in Brixton, it wasn't my cup of tea so I retired to the beer garden to chat to Tricity about Bowlie and ex-girlfriends spreading rumours.

Tonight though, its a spot on cover, with guitar all ajangle like the past 25 years were but yesterday.

Somewhat surprisingly the final act on stage tonight is Theoretical Girl also doing a cover of Can't Help Myself. I find myself wondering what happened? How come no one did Girl Like You or Rip It Up, or thatone about Adidas shoes. Did all the bands just assume someone else would do them and avoided the obvious? Was it a conscious effort to avoid the crowd pleasing favourites? Didn't anyone want to please the crowd?

Theoretical Girl's version was a shimmering backing tracked take on it with the girl playing a chorused up twelve string electric and jousting with her own pre-recorded backing vocals. It sounded like a misty dream sequence.

Ian HDIF and Twee Ass-Fuck DJs are pencilled in to take the crowd to closing time so I make a sneaky getaway, with a mind to record my own Orange Juice cover... here

Bands
Pocketbooks
Davey Strange
Goodnight I Wish
Harvey Williams
The Postcards
The Lodger
Theoretical Girl

Fireworks Night, My Sad Captains - Hoxton Kitchen Bar and Grill

Missed the first band, having dinner with pa and driving over from the otherside of town. Why is Hoxton so difficult to get to? And parking, don't get me started, well, wasn't so bad really. Parked for free outside The MacBeth, haven't been there in a while.



So, the first band, I caught, the second on stage, sounded like the more bombastic Divine Comedy, and the same lilt as Ink Wilson's How To Swim, but with half as many people on stage. Two violins mind, which gave a rare depth. There was a banjo chap too, he switched to playing the wood saw for the final song.

Nice haunting wig out at the end, if I can find the name of the band, I'd check out their Myspace later.



Oh, Tom SoundsXP and Trev Lost in the crowd and that chap with the moustache from White Heat, three sets of bonus points.

I don't think I've been here since Architecture In Helsinki, its still got that annoying lighting where you can't see where you're going, and save the indiekids, its a bit too Shoreditchy in the crowd, all stubble and the Mighty Boosh.



My Sad Captains, getting into my top three favourite bands right now. Still like last time, when they play live, they sound different what's on my iPod, more stadiummy, epic even, extended play versions, with more depth and flourish. It caught me off guard, I thought it was just where I was standing that sounded different, but no, they're on fire tonight.



I like them in the same way, with the same passion I loved Ash in '95/'96, the way the set flows, not so much with hits, but with the ones I know, all neatly slotting in. Couple of new songs, a little different from their more familiar stuff, remember the difference between Trailer and 1977. Its a step change in the more commercial mainstream direction.

New single out at the end of March on White Heat Records. I hope they have some festival dates lined up.

Bands
My Sad Captains
Fireworks Night

Other Reviews
here
here

Architecture In Helsinki - Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen

It was a hell of a walk to Hoxton Square from Euston, if the scale on the map was an order of magnitude smaller I might have made it to Richard Hawley's gig at the Rough Trade Supermarket, trying to make amends for being thrown off the Richard Hawley messageboard a year ago.

I'm in an expansive kebab house, Shish, round the corner from the venue, some kind of show jazz piped in, my little toe feels like its going to fall off. The waitress is helpful and friendly, putting up with my inability to speak coherently and my poor manners.

Round Hoxton Square hipsters lounged in the sun. From the outside the venue, Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen looked more like an eatery than a twee music venue.

I wish I were in touch with people of the internet who I got to gigs with, rather than just awkwardly/unexpectedly seeing them there. I wonder what Paul's up to.

I've got it, egg shakers filled with match heads. Just leave them lying round before a gig, indiepop kids pick them up, band plays set and leaves the stage, crowd holler for an encore, indiekids shake their egg shakers ecstatically, match heads blow up – indiepop genocide.

Reassured by the lost looking hipsters wandering toward the venue, and strangely surprised by musos walking the other way. Four guitars and a drum kit I counted.

You know when you're paying the bill for your rather nice lamb kebab and couscous and you pull your credit card out a little too forcefully, hitting yourself in the face and having a nosebleed, in a crowded restaurant, but luckily you're wearing a red t-shirt.

Oh dear god, there's a queue, out the door and at least 2/3 down the block. Is this the right gig? I'm sure there were only a few score when Architecture In Helsinki played Mono how long ago.

Ah, large Finnish community here in London.

Hmm, that bird who stood six foot away from me during The Orchids is here, well it looks like her. I tried to find her on FaceBook, but to no avail.

Been queuing for about two hours now. If I made a point about how badly organised it is, would they change anything? The free newspapers said it opened at 19:30, but it was 21:00 when the queue started moving. Capacity is 150, about three times that turned up. I count 60 guestlist folk who push to the front of the queue, still the same stream as paying punters and the gate is only one person wide, so we have to queue for longer.

I hope the band are worth this hell, ooh, free badge.

Cunts with handbags the size of my dad's old camping rucksack, “'scuse me dear”.

Hundred and fifty of us sweat for another 20 minutes whilst being threatened by what I can only assume is Kevin's choice of music and then the band take to the stage. Sounds like they've mated with Chromeo and Bis, the girls sings like a mid-80's Madonna sample. During the second or third song some girl called Debbie manages to lurch onto the stage and look awkward for a few minutes, ill advised fan or secret seventh band member, gereroff any way.

To bring it down halfway through they did a rather neat cover of 1987's Mental As Anything hit Live It Up. I preferred Northern Uproar's. Ashton Kutcher on vocals has a nice voice at times.

There's still a certain majesty to them, but instead of the sweet and maybe nervous twee, its more the hyper, sweaty party fun of The Go Team, will it alienate more old fans than win over new ones?

I didn't mind that there was only one band when the advert promised two, what put a downer on the night was the queuing for hours and the music barely made up for it.

Photies
here
here

Review
here (with video that you can't listen to)
here
here

The Plimptons - QMU

Aw man, we're in the pub down the way from the QMU, after the Plimptons have been thrown out for public nudity.

I was going to start off this review expressing my concerns about how many gigs I go to, maybe too many, but that's going to have to wait until another day.

Before the Plimps went on, some time after the soundcheck, one of the band told me Martin kept getting his cock out, and they hoped he wouldn't do it on stage.

So the place is empty, one of the largest venues of their career, the place is empty except for the other bands and their entourages.

It started so well, huge stage, all the band in their element, then Martin starts taking his shoes off, guitars strap failing as he struggles with the laces. That should have been a clear flag to informed observers.

Sometime during 'Nazi Army' Paul stands atop a speaker stack, waves his arms about in the new-rave style, and leaps off in iconic fashion, returning to his keyboard in time for the Nazi solo.

Martin had shed his trousers and t-shirt leaving just his boxer shorts by the set's halfway point.

And some time before Realm O'Majik he lost his boxers too, concealing his shlong with his guitar. Rowan, our urstwhile drummer, had been summoned to the microphone for an unspecified reason, but took the opportunity to chuck some detritus off stage. It must have been then that the idea hit her, in the pre-amble to Realm, she starts throwing all the clothing she can find off the stage.
Adam had removed some clothes too, slower than Martin, taunting the audience with hoisting and lowering his usual high-mast trousers.

Now, for Realm O'Majik, Adam usually plays guitar and Martin frolicks about in the audience, so now naked, with clothes spread to the winds he alternately uses a beer bottle and microphone to hide his shlong.

Oh the howls of terror from the crowd and the gradual exceptance of the nekkid chap horsing aroundon all fours and eventual embracing of him.

His girlfriend must be so proud.

Early on in the set Paul had been having problems with the sound from his keyboard, the extensive checking of cables and connections had little help, thus freeing him from his shackles to leap around the stage and making some of the songs a little shakey.


So when during Realm O' the microphone cut out, Martin forraged for a different mic to carry on and when that failed, he forraged for another and another.

By the fifth mic fail they knew the venue management had their hand in , this neatly won over the audience in revolt.

Alas, The Mighty Plimps were denied the opportunity to play their usual set closer hoe-down, Banjology.

Martin escorted out by the manager woman, the rest of the band and entourage followed, thus taking half the audience from the other bands.

Sorry, I'm sure your sets were great.

Photies
here
here

Reviews
here
here

Video
here

Whip, Cage The Elephant, Seeing Scarlet, Suburban Kids With Biblical Names - Water Rats

Nine quid on the door, I thought it was seven
- Its seven in advance,
But I'm pretty early, the first person here
- Not early enough

So what horrendous chain of events leads me to being at The Water Rats, London, paying £9 to see a band who'll be playing Glasgow in two days, for maybe £4?

It long and complicated and there's no one answer. It was the first event listed onLast.Fm, in London that looked any good.

I feel like 12 years ago in Manchester, the Boardwalk, too young, miles away from home. The smell of smoke. The same leather jacket.

I couldn't sleep and I needed something to keep my mind occupied.

Frankly I'm impressed and somewhat puzzled, I haven't slept in 37 hours, usually I fall asleep when driving in the day time, but not today, not even drifting off eyes a flickering. I admit I did start off quite drunk, boozing all day with Robbie and Colin, and then the Hermit Crabs.

Sitting here writing, I'm becoming overcome with the inevitable exhaustion. My legs feel like jelly and I'm thinking though treacle.

If only I'd paid my rent and had my passport with me. I'd be in France by now. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a plan to pick up a car charger for my mobile phone. Instead, its switched off, saving batteries for when I really need it.

There was a crash on the M25, six folk in a bus killed. When I left the flat there were just the initial reports of the horror, the horror, The, the police were speaking to the driver of the lorry that everything crashed into. I wonder what the lastest is now.

Crikey I got to this gig early, its not even half seven.

Wonders who the support bands are. There was a girl with hair and make up who looked musicish, and a gentleman in a hat.

Five paying punters now, two girls look nervous, echos of Manchester '95.

Time passes

Slowly

Actually, I'm not sure if time is passing at all, there's nothing to show for it.

It is '95

I'm all sticky, sweaty and smelly from hours of sunshine and wandering and driving, and the Redex stuff I put in my car with the petrol, it melts my hands.

These cigarette butts smell unfamiliar, whatever happened to sick slut?

So we're in London's famous King's Cross area. I spent the night in a McDonalds just round the corner from here during my last poorly conceived adventure to London. Their slinging out time is 4am, giving you time to wander to Victoria station to kip on the benches when it opens at 5am.

More punters are turning up at The Water Rats, all of them looking as lost as I. It can't be everyone's first time here, can it?

Its getting dark out, my exhaustion is making me cold, and the disco lights keep making me look up, checking if anyone's walked in. London has a population of 300 million, I'm bound to see more than one person I know.

Deprived of my phone I don't know what time it is.

The place is about to reach its seating limit and its getting too dark to write.

The first band have been asked to the stage.

Slow, sad and methodical, Whip from Portland Oregon. Guitars, casios, glokenspiel and banjos. I was already feeling in the mood for Chris Isaac, so they were like that and if Tom Snowball joined Martin Stephenson and the Daintees.

There are seven people watchingthe band, and fifty folk through at the bar in the other room, yaking loudly, missing out on the music. Philistines!!

I have little but contempt for those punters, for I am a bitter man.

Actually on my way out I noticed they have a camera hooke dup tot he stage and a large video screen so those contemptuous punters could watch away. Still a bunch of cunts.

Next, a bunch of hairy lads of various heights.

Oh why do the hair bear bunch spend so much time dicking about before they begin, could they no have come prepared? Damn you Baden-Powell.

Possibly a Kid Rock tribute act. Neat lead guitar from the hairy guitarist.

Hmm, they smashed up the stage a wee bit, makes me wonder if I got the right venue for the SubUrban Kids. Whoever put the bill together clearly had no idea what any of the bands sound like. Maybe that's the London way of doing these things.

Next up, a bunch of accountants, sings like Placebo. We killed Britpop for a reason.

The again, going by the mongs dancing aling in the audience, we might as well not have bothered.

Bonus points for an alien invasion halfway through, but I'm sure The Plimps or The Loves did it first.

Crikey, there's a gentleman here who looks just like Robbie. He kept on glancing at me at the bar and now he's stood nearby.

So the Suburban Kids turn up, on stage, the crowd is replaced by folk who'd been hiding in fear of the other bands all night and they get off to a great start of gentle bopping. The tall chap plays a mean lute.

Alas, an original '50s Fender Stratocaster they had along didn't work when plugged in, and kind of caught them off guard.

Their songs are great, they get rid of the lyrics at the start, then over-power you with the beat and the melody, grinding the hook into your head, like a crampon when rock climbing.

- They guys are fuckin' ace
Yeah
- Have you seen them before?
A couple of times
- Are you Swedish?
Nope, I'm Glaswegian.

The problem is, is that just about all their songs follow the same formula, and once they get into the melody grinding, they go on for about two minutes too long. And cos of this, they ran out of time.

No Rent a Wreck, their bestest tune in my opinion. I felt cheated. This song has the formula backwards with the melody and hook at the start and the lyrics in the middle.

Luckily, they're playing again, the next night at White Heat, which you can go to. "I have other commitments" says Jonah, "What? Science class?"

Reviews
here

Photies
here