Post by franklinmarsh on Jun 15, 2008 20:55:17 GMT
Despite stitch-ups, sellouts, illness,apathy and skintness, I finally got to my first gig of the year last night. Have missed flute-orientated,hippie proggies Jethro Tull, I did get to see saxophone/flute/clarinet - endowed wicked hippie space-rockers Gong - huzzah! Daevid Allen is off his chump and consequently a great front man, costume changes aplenty as the Pothead Pixies travelled through Space (and Time - some of 'em are getting on a bit!) Hopefully I'll be back for Adrian Sherwood/Mark Stewart & The Maffia/Stuff Luttle Fungurs on Wednesday. (Prog followed by punk - my music chronology) Note to Pulphack - Manufactured Romance have reformed (well who hasn't?) and will be playing the Camden Underworld on Friday Aug 15 - supported by another female-fronted punk-power-pop combo, Big Boy Tomato. Great days!
Post by franklinmarsh on Oct 10, 2015 13:39:19 GMT
Not so much London as Aldershot -
The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown. Sublime. Sat through two support bands (Mototrcycle Display Team and Void) and then, the master. His voice isn't what it was but he has a pretty young band (in face make up and costumes) a weird dancer and a bucketful of costume changes and a sackful of songs. He came on wearing what looked like an enormous cloak, but must have had umpteen layers of clothing underneath as each time a song finished he'd take off the cloak to reveal a blue jacket, the blue jacket to reveal a red jacket, the red jacket to reveal a black frock coat etc. Lights turned down for a bizarre light-up waistcoat covered in a fibre optic rainbow, a gold sequined poncho for Time Captives, it was enthralling stuff. Faves were his take on I Put A Spell On You , and, inevitably Fire - the last number "It's a ritual - you have to get it right." Marvellous - and only two weeks until Wire!
Can't help wishing he could have done some of this though.
Post by franklinmarsh on Nov 16, 2015 20:41:38 GMT
Friday saw me toddling down to the West End Centre in Aldershot for the third time in just over a month. Incredible excitement this time – it’s the UK Subs! First seen in February 1979, last seen around the early 1990s, what will have changed? Deliberately went a bit later and arrived around 9 pm. Missed the first lot, but The Wonder Beers were taking to the stage. Fred Perrys, modern hair, stubbly beards, fast Ramonic songs about beer, kebabs, beer, one night stands, beer, hating your job, beer…they were OK and went down pretty well as I think they had a few supporters in. The Subs were far better than they had any right to be. Charlie Harper is 70 and looks a bit like Bernie Eccleston – in an Adverts t-shirt, but still has the energy to jump around (albeit in a kind of slow motion). Alvin Gibbs (from the Diminished Responsibility/Endangered Species years and subsequently on and off) was on bass. Jet was on guitar and Jamie Oliver (not than one) on drums and apparently they’ve been a stable unit for ten years. They started with You Don’t Belong and seemed to put in one of the newer songs then reverted to an older one alternately, so I was happy that Emotional Blackmail and Down On The Farm (as covered by Guns ‘N’ Roses) showed up as 3 and 5. Then it was just good time rock ’n’ roll with some social protest. A peak was reached with Tomorrows Girls followed by Warhead. Although I hadn’t stayed for encores by Arthur Brown or Wire, the Subs finished without doing CID so I felt it my duty to stay on. The encore was CID, I Live In A Car, Party In Paris* and New York State Police. To add to the Proustian A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu vibe, there was quite a lot of (empty, plastic) glass throwing, and I was handed a couple of flyers on the way out (one for 999). Apparently they’ve done some sort of crowd funding to finance their Z album (thus completing a series of albums that all begin with a different letter of the alphabet (Another Kind Of Blues, Brand New Age, Crash Course and so on). It looks as though this will be their last. 2017 will be the 40th anniversary so I assume they’re about ready to call it a day.
*Got back to the car just before eleven, and heard on the news about what had happened in Paris - this song, a silly party one that I’ve always liked, now has a strange poignancy.
November 2015? Over a year? Still - Live In Windsor -
Had a couple of disasters last year, where I booked tickets for events and then didn’t go. The longer the not going out goes on, the deeper the slough of despond, but, on the positive side, it does make attendance at a show taste so much sweeter. This youth social media Faceache thingy does throw up some odd you may like stuff, and recently it told me that Dr John Cooper Clarke would be playing the Fire Station, Windsor. For a number of reasons, this became a fixation - I HAD to go. Wary of previous upsets, I thought I would not book until the last minute. In those Good Old Days, you could have paid on the door, been part of the walk up, but this is 2017, and that’s not an option in the world of entertainment any more. Checked the website last Friday, and there were five seats left, all individual and far apart. This seemed a good omen. Revisited on Monday - sold out. In high dudgeon I 'phoned the box office to demand to put on the Returns List, only to discover they don’t have such a thing. Reeling with disappointment, I called again on Tuesday, opening with a cheery ‘Any returns for tomorrow night?’ to be greeted with the minimalist ‘No’. Something made me go back to the website late Tuesday night, and, lo and behold, instead of Sold Out , the prices were quoted. I hastily asked for 1 ticket, and the seating plan popped up on the screen - one available seat right at the back. Confidently clicking Buy, I was horrified to receive a weird message along the lines of I cannot claim the seat because it would leave a single seat or something and I’d be directed to next block. Kafkaesque nightmare. I futilely clicked Buy a few more times, but the technology was adamant - no. At the point of despair I idly clicked Add To Basket - the seating plan disappeared and after a while I noticed the cryptic ‘Finished shopping? Proceed to checkout’ decorating the bottom of the screen. I had 20 minutes to complete the transaction - which I did. Spent most of yesterday in a state of childish excitement - one of the ladies at worked compared me to her son who’d recently gone on a school trip - I told her I knew how he felt - about to burst with joy. Blazing heat. I’d forgotten my route would take me close to Ascot and with the Royal meeting being on, traffic was heavier than usual but I successfully navigated my way, despite stalling while trying to cross a main road. Even managed to park for free in the vicinity of the venue.. I think the Fire Station was actually a fire station. It has enormous double doors which had been folded back to bring the bar almost out on to the street, which, coupled with the good weather, gave the evening a continental vibe to offset the Brexit negotiations. A Victorian affair, it was non-blessed with aircon (I think they call it nowadays) but the management kindly provided large jugs of iced lemon water with plastic cups gratis. The auditorium seating was steep, but it meant I could see the tiny stage even from the rear. I’d never attended a poetry event before (one patron had a t-shirt bearing the paperback cover of Ginsberg’s Howl, nicely offsetting others depicting Unknown Pleasures, Anarchy In The UK and (ahem) Sergeant Pepper). I did see Joolz (Denby) years ago amidst the New Model Army and The Sisters Of Mercy.. First up was Toria Garbutt, a young lady from the ex-mining town of Knottingley in Yorkshire who regaled us with tales of youthful squalor, drug-taking and hope amidst the despair, followed by Mike Garry, a morbid Mancunian who dealt with people trafficking, what his mam taught him and the magnificent St. Anthony, a tribute to Tony (shurely Anthony H?) Wilson. They played the musical version during the interval So far so good, but nothing prepared me for the second half. The good doctor had a backdrop, and came on to the theme from Dragnet. He did recite some poems, but he also told jokes, rambled (that may have influenced this piece),wandered, acted and philosophised in one of the most, wonderful, erratic performances it’s been my pleasure to witness. He started with a quiz, did Beasley Street, and the gentrified follow up Beasley Boulevard, reminisced about meeting the Dalai Lama at Glastonbury and divesting oneself of worldly goods, compared Snooty Butler to Chimpanzee Butler (the perils of making a few bob), was so realistic at being crippled with agony whilst decrying discount sushi that a woman in our row feared he might actually vomit, and finished with Evidently Chickentown after a Sopranos recreation. I got back to the car gone 11, and was home just before midnight. I’m deffo too old for this shit. As evidence of my beloved synchronicity, JCC was due to appear on the bill at the first proper gig I attended at the back end of 1978. All through the evening they announced he hadn’t shown up, but confirmed he’d arrived just as we had to run for the ridiculously early last train. The 38 and a half year wait was worth it. Fans of the film Rude Boy may be interested to know Dr John was introduced by his road manager, one Johnny Green.
You mean the punk poet? I saw him in about 1983 in Perth, Western Australia - can't remember a damn thing about it.
That's the chap.
Do you remember The Lighthouse Keepers, James?
I certainly do. Somewhere I have their single "Gargoyle" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg1vLBh77A) on vinyl, and I think that I may even have seen them live once. Was it perhaps supporting the Triffids or the Go-Betweens, or is that just wishful thinking on my part? Happy - though very vague - memories.
Yes, indeed! Great pub band - very funny shows - and still remembered fondly here in Canberra where they formed, along with The Church who had much bigger commercial success. The Lighthouse Keepers used to tour with a great Perth band, The Triffids - funnily enouh I went to the same school as David McComb, their singer and inspiration. He led a pretty hard life - had a heart transplant in the mid-90s but couldnt get back on the wagon and died a few years later.
Post by franklinmarsh on Nov 12, 2018 13:24:54 GMT
Aldershot is still home of the hits - last Friday I managed to catch John Otway and the Big Band at the West End Centre. Mystery solved! 'The Big Band' are a drummer, bass player , rhythm guitarist, and lead guitarist - the latter being Richard Holgarth who I first saw with Otway, sandwiched between the Hamsters and Wilko Johnson, on the Mad, Bad and Dangerous tour back in 2005 or so. and last saw with Eddie & The Hot Rods (who are apparently about to call it a day) and a severe haircut. The show was as previous Otway gigs - two sets, no support, but the sound was beefed up rock, giving John's whimsy a more in your face effect, and allowing him to posture to the anthemic We Rock - inspired by Queen's We Will Rock You 'but I thought they used too many words'. Terrific stuff, and for me, a new slant on the man's deranged talent, with the entire band getting their quips in. Difficult to select highlights as it were all to the good, but Delilah (Weetabix version - I felt the spoon in my hand...) accompanied by the odd piece of cereal flung stageward to be greeted by the musicians with 'Someone's been staying at Premier Inn' and 'You do know these are all out of date, don't you?', the punk Rumpelstiltskin (much more punk with this backing), new song Seagulls On Speed (ending with Otway donning a frighteningly realistic seagull mask), the extremely odd audience participation House Of The Rising Sun, and a glorious Theremingle of Dancing With Ghosts (should be gracing my turntable next Hallowe'en) followed by Crazy Horses, sounding more like Tank than The Osmonds. The ol' maniac is allegedly hitting the road with Wild Willie again next year
Great to hear that Otway is still doing his stuff. I still have memories of seeing him and Barrett back in the days of "Really Free". Down in the dungeon of decadent delights that was Liverpool's legendary Eric's club they managed to leave an audience that was drawn about 50:50 from the local punk and neopsychedelic contingents grinning, applauding and singing, yet totally weirded out.