Jagged Edge - Hartlepool WMC - December 2007

Would you believe it? The boys just happen to be playing in the part of the country we happen to be in. Coincidence? Fate? The wife meticulously planning our social calendar? You decide...

Here's a wee confession; we've got an album playing on car journeys just now called, unoriginally, Jagged Edge Originals. It features the original (surprise, surprise) versions of just about all the tracks the boys cover and never fails to spark conversation.

* Just how fantastic would Higher Place have been if Perry sang it?
* Just how boring is ...Miss A Thing without Dan's virtuosity at the end?
* Why does It's My Life sound so 2-dimensional when compared to the Jaggie version?

It also highlights a few unhealthy traits in our collected psyche. When Dave Gilmour is playing the Comfortably Numb coda we probably shouldn't be shouting "Not like that! You missed the bit that goes diddly-diddly-weee-ow!"

Anyway...

The addition of assorted B&Q animated Christmas lights to the Hartlepool war zone hasn't made it look any less like downtown Basra but I suppose they're portable and easy to fence so I'd imagine car crime's down for a couple of weeks.

Inside The Compound, the boys started without us (not my fault - my hair doesn't take an hour to dry these days!) and were into Runaway before we got seated. The hall was pretty much full but, sadly, we knew why.

After really top-drawer performances of Blue Collar Man, Take It On The Run, Wayward Son and Separate Ways, Old Albert took over and we were treated to 40 minutes of hot, hardcore bingo action.

The second half was the usual song-and-dance-athon with all of the band on top form. The guys on the desk, meanwhile, were experimenting with some new lighting effects (very Phantom Of The Opera) and possibly some sort of cross-fade-side-to-side-phasing thing (sorry about the technical jargon there) on the sound (though that might just've been my ears playing up).

There was a sad absence of authentic mad dancers although one lass seemed keen to audition for the part. Unfortunately for her, the bar has been set very high and shaking your arse sub-Tina Turner style just doesn't cut it.

Hartlepool is a strange, strange place but that's two cracking performances we've seen at King Ozzy (as it seems to be known locally) Drive. Bingo or no bingo.

Jeremy Hardy - LBT - December 2007

I first encountered Jeremy Hardy during a brief flirtation with Radio 4 back in the early 90s. He was presenting a lecture titled "How To Know Your Place" which had me doubled up with laughter but which was the last episode of his series; Radio 5 became 5Live shortly after and I didn't listen to Radio 4 again until the new Douglas Adams adaptations aired.

Consequently, to me, Jeremy was a vaguely familiar face who appeared occassionally on the They Think It's Quite Buzzcocky For You circuit until, a couple of years ago, I discovered BBC7 and the full glory of Jeremy Hardy Speaks To The Nation was revealed to me.

Speaks to the Nation was the series that early lecture came from and is possibly the most consistently hilarious radio series I have ever encountered; I was therefore with excitement and a little trepidation that I set out to see the wee guy live.

Trepidation only because I've now got all seven series (that's about 18 hours) of Speaks to the Nation constantly present on my Rio Carbon; would I have heard it all before?

Not a bit of it. Jeremy presented two straight hours of unthemed stand-up to an appreciative, if slightly reserved, sell-out crowd. Subjects ranged from the expected right-on stuff about homophobia and racism to parenthood and music festivals (I went to Glastonbury. A bloke in his forties in a field in a tent. I felt I should be judging leeks).

He touched on current affairs (The police should be allowed to strike - just imagine them hunched around their brazier, burning their truncheons, and a hundred former miners arriving on horseback) and stuck up for Amy Winehouse, pointing out that she's probably a lightweight in the contolled substances stakes compared to the Keefs and Lemmys of a world so keen to criticise her.

His political rants were as confusing as ever - Jeremy wants to protect people from themselves and doesn't try to reconcile his support for bans with his more liberal tendancies (thus alienating himself from both the libertarian and authoritarian camps).

Labour, the political party he fell out with many years ago, came in for some well deserved stick over all the right-wing stuff (ID cards, PFI, fuelling the credit boom) and corruption (cash for honours); Don't they understand? When we said, "You're the same as the Tories" it wasn't a challenge, it was just something to say.

Departed friends (Alan Coren and Linda Smith) were paid tribute to, Jeremy suggesting that I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue contestants seem to have a longer life expectancy than those on The News Quiz. His observation that his fanbase comprises largely of Radio 4 listeners and one harsh winter might see them all off raised many nervous giggles.

He threw in a few bars of a song or two - unaccompanied he doesn't sound half as bad as he does on ISIHAC; he can carry a tune, just not one he's been given - and demonstrated a previously unknown (to me, anyway) talent for mimicry; his John Reid Lanarkshire accent was spot on - I could've been visiting family.

He left us with (in his words) some real jokes which had come to him from his old friend, the late Alan Coren. Under any other circumstances they'd probably be derided as stereotypical, even anti-semitic; but they did come from Alan...

A Jew, an Englishman, a Frenchman and a Russian were crossing the desert. Obviously the Englishman, Frenchman and Russian might've been Jewish as well but, for the purposes of this joke, that's unimportant.
- The Russian said, "I'm hot and I'm parched; I must have vodka"
- The Frenchman said, "I'm hot and I'm parched; I must have wine"
- The Englishman said, "I'm hot and I'm parched; I must have beer"
- The Jew said, "I'm hot and I'm parched; I must have diabetes"

A flasher opened his mac to an old Jewish woman in the park.
She said, "That's a lining?"

A comedian's agent called him and said, "I've got you a great charity gig - be careful, you mustn't blow this one, it's with the Paranoia Society."
He hung up and the comedian's phone rang again; "Hi, this is Steven, I'm the secretary of the Paranoia Society".
"Oh, hi there. I was just talking about you..."

Mighty fine show.

Grumpy Old Women - York - November 2007

The past cast of Grumpy Old Women reads like a who's who of HRT - the genius co-author Jenny Éclair, Linda Robson, Rhona Cameron; these are not ladies in whose presence a man feels at ease, so it was with some trepidation that I acquired tickets for my grumpy old lady's birthday.

Man, oh man, oh, man. Yep, I think that's it; three other blokes in the York Grand Opera House; you can taste the oestrogen (at least I hope it's oestrogen). Is it legal for so many women to be drunk in one place? It's like Glasgow city centre in A-line skirts.

Our hosts this evening are Denise Black (formerly the second most glamorous barmaid at the Rovers Return), self-styled "Posh Grump" and only remaining GOW "original" Dillie Keane and, wait a minute, that can't be right…

About 25 years ago I had a poster of Mary Goodnight on my bedroom wall. Clad in a bikini, it was the "aren't we a little overdressed?" scene from The Man With The Golden Gun.

Britt Ekland can be as grumpy as she likes but, like David Cassidy, Rod Stewart and others of her generation, she'll never be old. Not to these eyes.



The girls (I can call them "girls", can't I?) mesh wonderfully to deliver a slick script which is, in turn, inspiring and thought provoking but always hilarious. Britt, resigned to her fate as a GOW, reminisces about her dalliances with film and rock stars; Dillie, revelling in her GOW status, shouts and screams in a frighteningly authentic manner; Denise, clinging to her youth and refusing to grow up, slowly embraces her GOW-hood.

From list obsessions to the Lakeland catalogue, the show skips smoothly through a whole range of subjects which, in the grand scheme of things, don't matter but, when taken together, just wind us all (GOW and GOM alike) up.

So many highlights - the GOW manifesto; Dillie trying to channel Meg Ryan but knowing the immersion's been left on; Denise's oh-so-familiar experiences with her teenagers; Britt telling fart jokes.

The world is a slightly better place for Britt Ekland telling fart jokes.

Great show. Right, I'm off to buy some biscuit carriers. Has anyone seen my Lakeland catalogue?

Vampires Rock - Blackpool - November 2007

Past Times With Good Company

Linda and I aren't really antisocial. We comment regularly that we don't "do" people but, in honesty, this is a reaction to the fact that, thus far, we have achieved what we have in spite of, rather than thanks to, others. It's not that we don't like company, we just don't need it; we've got each other and that's a lot, y'know?

One upshot is that it makes our occasional nights out with like-minded friends that little bit more special.

So, Vampires Rock at the Blackpool Opera House; where to begin?

Steve Steinman is a jammy bastard, will that do? Talk about being in the right place at the right time. For the uninitiated, Steve was a losing contestant on an early series of Stars In Their Eyes, but he made a good enough impression (pun intended, obviously) to launch himself onto the circuit and become Britain's number one Meatloaf tribute act.

Thing is, he looks about as much like Meatloaf as I do; Steve looks more like Alexei Sayle, or maybe the wrestler Kane. This hasn't, however, stopped him building a sizeable and loyal fanbase and he sells out venues up and down the country with what is, in effect, a glorified pub covers band.

None of these guys look any more like Meatloaf than I do.

His current show tries really hard to recapture the spirit of Rocky Horror but falls desperately short. The narrative can be summarised as follows;
Our narrator, Stringfellow, guides us through the tale as Baron von Rockula (Steinman), a vampire who owns a nightclub, auditions singer Pandora Honey Rosiebox (yes, there are lots of weak "box" jokes throughout). She falls for him (without even putting up a fight), gets turned into a vampire and they marry (these last two steps might've been the other way around).
That's it. No twists, no turns, just boy meets girl and they bonk happily ever after.

I mean, come on! Baron von Rockula? Even Eurovision metal monsters Lordi would turn their noses up at a name like that!

This flimsy script links together an assortment of songs from The Greatest Rock Cliche Album In The World... Ever! to give us the world's first hair-metal pantomime. Strangely, it kind of works.

The backing band is competent if not earth-shattering, though their harmonies could do with some work. Lead vocal duties are shared between Rockula, Pandora and Stringfellow.

What quickly becomes apparent is that Steinman can only sing "as" Meatloaf; consequently, we learn what the inevitable 'Loaf covers album (everyone else seems to be doing one) is going to sound like.

For the record - Welcome to the Jungle (surprisingly good), If You Want Blood (likewise), Since You've Been Gone (disappointing), Here I Go Again (fair-to-middling), Highway to Hell (laughably bad).

It's ironic that he sounds least like Meatloaf when he's singing - you guessed it - Meatloaf songs. He simply hasn't got the range for Deadringer For Love or Bat Out of Hell.

Pandora (played by a second Stars In Their Eyes failure, Emily Clark) first appears as a dowdy Su Pollard lookalike but is then transformed into a vamp-y (again, pun intended) rock chick. She takes centre stage for Holding On For A Hero (her "Stars..." moment - a straight copy of the original), Don't Stop Me Now, Alice Cooper's Poison (nice rework) and Devil Gate Drive.

Sadly for Emily, I met Suzi Q a few weeks back and I'm afraid that the divine Miss Quatro is far sexier, fully clothed and nearly sixty, than "Pandora" could ever be.

Stringfellow is the Buttons/RifRaf character and isn't nearly as funny as he should be. The over-egged "joke" that he likes Abba falls a bit flat since, let's be honest, everyone likes Abba. He takes vocals on a few songs but I'm buggered if I can remember any of them - largely forgettable.

Vocal highpoint of the show was the Pandora/Rockula duet version of Total Eclipse Of The Heart which made way more sense than the original and had me wondering what a genuine Meatloaf/Bonnie collaboration might sound like.

Then there was Fingers.

If Steinman has struck it lucky, the losing hand must've been dealt to Eddie Ojeda. What is Eddie Ojeda doing touring a show like this? This guy has been with Twisted Sister for over thirty years; he played on Hear'n'Aid; he's a real, live icon! He must be getting paid well, must be.

We get precious little demonstration of his talent - just a couple of short solos - but enough to show he is far and away the most talented guy on the stage (if not in the auditorium ~taps nose knowingly~). Eddie closes out the show by leading the crowd in a rousing version of Sister anthem We're Not Gonna Take It.

Oh, and we got a drum solo.

Look, can we stop pretending now, please? For nearly 40 years rock fans have been subjected to five minutes (somethimes, heaven forbid, more) of rat-a-tat-fucking-tat in the middle of gigs.

We know drummers are talented guys and that the sound would be rubbish without you, but it isn't a solo instrument. Drumming is pretty crap without all the other guys (you know, the musical ones) playing along so just DON'T DO IT, OK?

Just Say NO to drums, kids.

Am I glad I went? Hell, yeah! Would I pay to go back? Well, the wife enjoyed it.

And the company was good.

Right. It's nearly December. I'm off to dig out the Twisted Sister Christmas Album and annoy the family for a while.

Two Twisted Sisters - Linda'n'Eddie

One of these guys is a mind-blowing guitarist

Still Buzzin' / Ben Brown - Rock Café, Huddersfield - November 2007

After LiveWired, I never expected my path to cross Ben Brown's again, but I'm glad it did because I fear I sold him a bit short last time out.

The Rock Café's smaller, more intimate environs suit his style much better than the sprawling stage of an empty Slawit sports centre and, once the PA problems had been resolved, he treated us to a set featuring superb interpretations of the Kinks' Sunny Afternoon, Radiohead's Creep and a variety of his own compositions.

Thing is, and this is where my first review failed him, his own stuff is better than the covers. Strong melodies, evocative lyrics and a fearless and intelligent approach to arrangement; Ben writes bloody good songs which the Q demographic will love.

Get rid of the Joe Dolce hat, though.

It's about time we got around to seeing Still Buzzin' on their own terms rather than in a support capacity. Here again, the venue suited them much better than the more open stages; it seemed to hold the sound together much better, giving a more rounded feel.

(Does that make any sense at all? I know what I was trying to say…)

I'll be blunt here; Still Buzzin' shouldn't work. There are so many things "wrong" that it should be like a really bad episode of the X Factor. The choice of material is bizarre (Bon Jovi, Blondie, U****ing2 and Kelly Clarkson should never, ever appear together in a set list - it's like putting 30 years of Now That's What I Call Music on random play).

On top of this, they don't look like pop stars; yet, they come on stage - Paul grinning like a toddler with a balloon, Steve stalking him, looking likely to steal said toy, Clive and Ian hiding in their corners, Martin hoping not to be mistaken for Gerry Adams' long-lost brother; and you can't help but want to join the party.

Then Natz sings.

The band is, without doubt, greater than the sum of its parts, but Natz is their ace in the hole. Whether she's taking the lead on Bitch, Crazy Chick or Thorn In My Side (you see what I mean about material?) or backing up Paul on Don't Want To Miss A Thing or Pride (In the Name of Love) she never misses a beat, never misses a note (well, except on Hanging On The Telephone, where she missed a whole line!)

Hmm. Pride.

It's a little-known fact that Dante's Inferno was censored by the Vatican. The original version had 10, rather than 9, circles of hell. The final ring was reserved for those worse than fraudsters, killers, traitors and heretics; it was the preserve of over-rated Irish musicians. Unfortunately, the Church of Rome, never knowingly averse to a bit of corruption, took a bung from that ****ing sanctimonious **** Bono and had him (and the gobby one from the Boomtown Rats) spared by threatening Dante with "eternal imprisonment, yea even in thrall to the dread three-headed demon, Mariah Houston-Dion".

Faced with such a prospect, Dante handed editorial control to Rome and went down the pub.

You've probably guessed, I could have done without Pride. That said, it wasn't a bad version, it's just hard to polish s***e.

Many songs - I haven't mentioned Erasure (big kudos to Paul for his vocal on A Little Respect), Brian Adams, Stereophonics, Kaiser Chiefs, Green Day, Pink - later, the band closed out their set proper with Let Me Entertain You before being tempted back to give us a SAHB-style Delilah, so ending a very enjoyable set on an appropriately strange high.

Still Buzzin' don't do school discos but, if they did, it'd probably be the best school disco in the world.

Jagged Edge - Birdwell, Barnsley, October 2007

Time signatures. Complicated things - collar one of the boys at the next gig if you want to know the technicalities but, to most of us, they just define how many times you pump your fist or swing your pants in any given period.

Rock timings tend to be pretty straightforward. Sure, Genesis, Rush and the like have explored more obscure rhythms but you can't headbang in 7/4.

At least I didn't think you could.

Last time I was in Barnsley we got back to my mate's car to find it, very badly, resprayed. Parking a car with a full-back-window Town sticker within a quarter of a mile of Oakwell on matchday probably wasn't the brightest move, in retrospect. We probably wouldn't have been surprised to find the windows in or the thing on bricks, but painted? You've got to hand it to the Barnsley boys for originality.

No such behaviours expected at Birdwell WMC - we found the venue easily and it was a pleasant change to arrive somewhere with a decent car park.

In the front door and ~ WHERE IN THE NAME OF LEMON-SCENTED FUDGE DID THAT COME FROM?? Just how old was that promo poster in the foyer? Haven't seen that much hair since they cancelled The Salon.

The hall, it has to be said, is a belter. Good big stage and dancefloor - looks like they've spent a few bob on their own lighting and sound systems. From what I could gather, the club is just restarting its rock nights after a break and the forward programme looks quite inviting with Jam and Def Leppard tributes amongst others.

Unfortunate, then, that the end-of-the-month bank balance blues was playing and the crowd was, by Jaggie standards, sparse.

Well, it was Barnsley's loss because tonight's performance was one of the very best. Outstanding sound, a great choice of material, everyone (including Dave R, despite his man flu!) in great voice - it was just one of those nights when it all came together.

Highlights - Blue Collar Man just gets better and better, Wayward Son was fabulous, the look of disbelief on the faces of the guys at the bar when Dan was in full flow during Comfortably Numb, a really big drum sound, the best mad dancer ever.

"She wouldn't be doing that if she knew you were going to write about her".

That was sweeping the floor with her hair. Don't they have enough immigrants to exploit as cleaners in Barnsley or something? This rock chick had a novel take on dancing and to say she grooved to the beat of her own drum would get us back to her 7/4 headbanging. I'd have put it down to the Newkie Broon but I think it might've been magic.

Bear with me...

She had her pet leprechaun with her! Seriously! She had her own leprechaun! I've never seen anyone riverdance to Guns'n'Roses before. Surreal. And somehow apt.

Bloody good show. I think we'll probably go back there.

I might have to go in disguise, mind.

England v Estonia - Wembley - October 2007

It's years since I've been to a "big" game. Play-offs and what have you are all very well but following Town means 20k is a big crowd and 40k exceptional; last time I saw more than that first-hand was in the pre-Taylor report days.

MrsD, on the other hand, has never been to a "big" game; the most she's ever seen is probably about 15k at Leeds Road. She feels she's missing out on something.

Consequently, a couple of months back, I found myself betraying my national and family heritage and signing up with the FA as an England fan. My poor old dad would be spinning in his grave if he could stop laughing (and we hadn't cremated him).

Fifty bloody quid to watch a football game. Fifty bloody quid! Even for a small family, you're looking at a similar cost to a week on the Costas. The last Scotland game I went to (a home international against Wales sometime in the 80s) cost less than a fiver. Either I'm getting old or football has changed a lot. Actually, both are true, aren't they?

An early disappointment was the injury to the boy David. MrsD is a Beckham loyalist and was quite excited when we got the tickets because, if all had gone to plan, this should have been his 100th cap; best laid plans and all that.

Not knowing thatLondon at all, we booked a Travel Lodge out at Kenton which turned out to be a not-exactly salubrious suburb a couple of miles from Wembley; it served its purpose. The drive down from Huddersfield on Saturday morning was an easy 3-and-a-bit hours and, having parked up we hit a small problem. The public transport system is excellent, really good; but, unless you're at one of the big stations in the centre of the city, there's no way to find out what tickets you need.

Eventually, we got sorted and headed off into the city for a quick bit of tourism - Lizzy's house, Admiralty Arch sort of stuff before heading out to Wembley.

I was amazed at how quiet the trains out were - I was expecting sardines but it wasn't half bad. Wembley Park station was rammed, though and the view of Wembley Way was wonderful.

Lots of unofficial souvenir sellers doing a roaring trade in badges, flags and half-and-half scarves. This European thing annoys me - ManUre fans wouldn't buy a half-and-half ManUre-Shitty scarf, would they? So why are they becoming so common in European and international matches?

Our tickets were for the opposite side of the groud so we had a legitimate excuse to walk all the way around. It's a looooooong way.

Very quickly through the turnstiles, MrsD had the lid of her water bottle confiscated (these security rules just get weirder and weirder) then it was up the escalators to level 5. Escalators inside a football ground are just not right.

The internal concourses are a million miles and a million years removed from the old metal gangways inside the old national stadium. Loads of toilet facilities, overpriced burger bars (seriously - £8 - and they queue is enormous!). This is a lady and family friendly venue.

Up the steps and into the cauldron.

Wow. The first view of the playing area in any stadium is always a thrill but this was something special.

Our seats were just above the TV cameras so the view was "familiar". Strange thing - it doesn't actually feel as big as the old stadium - the absence of the running track makes this feel very much like a football ground.

Looking across at the much-maligned corporate seats, the influence of our own, dear Galpharm on the design became obvious. I don't know how interested you are in architecture, but here's an aside; the Wembley arch - commonly refered to as Foster's Arch after principal architect Norman Foster - wasn't actually his idea. It was his sidekick, Rod Sheard, who came up with the curve design for the stadium. That's the Rod Sheard who designed a wee ground in the nineties for Huddersfield Town! We were the template.

Something strange with the national anthem - it sounded like it always does on telly, but there was no-one singing anywhere around me. Surely they're not playing tapes?

Game on and Michael Owen should have scored in the first minute - I had it down as "one of those days" for him from that moment. Problem with watching games like this when you don't follow "the" Premiership is that you can't identify all of the players - I thought it was Ashley Cole who went down early on, but it turned out to be Micah Richards. Rooney and Ferdinand were about the only guys I could confidently identify without seeing their numbers.

Game was a bit poor, to be honest - England didn't really seem that interested with only Rooney chasing stuff down. He pwn3d (as the kids say) the Estonian number 4. Gareth Barry got man of the match but I suspect a bit of politics there.

Stevie Gerrard is still shite.

People started leaving at just after the hour mark. What's that all about? By the time the crowd was announced on 80 minutes I reckon at least a quarter and possibly as much as a third of the 88k had already left. People are strange.

Not that they missed much, mind, but the little Estonian contingent gave their team more of an ovation at full time than the England fans did theirs.

Anyone got any idea what's going on with the lights above the north stand? They look like some sort of Close Encounters signalling system - does the pattern mean anything?

Really excellent crowd control after the game meant we were back at our digs within the hour where we freshened up and headed out for a bit of night-time touristy stuff - Westminster and Trafalgar Square - trying to judge the rugby score by the sounds from the pubs. Surprisingly quiet - I actually thought they'd lost.

Sunday morning, a quick visit to Bluewater "just because" (it's not a patch on the Trafford Centre) then home.

Nice wee weekend trip but you're welcome to thatLondon. Every flat surface has takeaway wrappers and empty beer bottles, there are too many people and you're all mugs to tolerate the prices.

Mark Steel - LBT, Huddersfield - October 2007

Mark Steel is an enigma. Of an age with Ben Elton, he was on the fringes of the 80s "angry young man" scene but, rather than be swept along into the corporate world of sitcom writing and product endorsement, he remained (indeed, remains) an unreconstructed, old-school socialist and ploughed his own furrow into radio where he produced three award-winning series for the BBC;

The Mark Steel Solution where he offered unorthodox cures for society's ills (The Royal Family - "The Royal Family should be chosen by weekly lottery", Immigration - "Anyone born in England should be deported", Religion - "People should have to change their religion every Monday");

The Mark Steel Lectures where he shone a spotlight on inspirational historical figures as diverse as WG Grace, Charlie Chaplin, Leonardo Da Vinci and Che Guevara; and

The Mark Steel Revolution which looked at the Industrial, American, Russian and French revolutions.

The latter two series were factual shows presented in a humorous context and inspired, respectively, a TV series (guest starring, amongst others, the late, much-missed Linda Smith, Ainsley Harriot and, in one of his last TV appearances, the mighty Bob Monkhouse) and a book ("Vive La Revolution").

His current UK tour is based on the French Revolution lecture and, last night, he came to Huddersfield to entertain and educate us.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

The first hint that something might be amiss was when I was at the box office getting a refund on my tickets for the cancelled Jo Caulfield tour (she's landed an "unmissable" booking in foreign parts - not happy about this!) "He's in a foul mood, but he'll rant it out on stage" said a voice from the back. Uh-oh.

We took our place and Mark took the stage - 20-odd minutes late - to La Marseillaise. He'd been stuck in traffic for three hours then got lost in our wonderful one-way system (this adds him to a list of comedians including Mike Harding, Jasper Carrott and Mark Lamarr, all of whom have launched tirades against town planners from the Huddersfield stage). Consequently, he hadn't set up the stage himself, had mislaid his notes and was a bit flustered.

Now, I assumed that this was all part of his pre-amble, but it quickly became apparent that he was telling the truth and, instead of the expected, scripted history lesson-with-jokes, we got two-and-a-half hours of meandering observational comedy very loosely themed on the French Revolution but encompassing rock festivals, Chomsky, Dawkins, Brits abroad, immigration and the formation of the Rugby Football League.

I'll bet Mark wasn't expecting that. It arose from a little bit of crowd participation where he asked about local revolutionary activity. He clearly expected some input about the Luddites (Enoch's hammer was swung with gusto here in heavy woollen country) but was sidetracked by talk of the Hunslet Rebellion and a dodgy decision given by a Scouse referee. The fact that this happened over 100 years ago and not, for example, last Saturday, certainly made an impression. Aye, Mark, us Northerners know how to hold a grudge!

By this stage in proceedings, Mark pretty much abandoned whatever script was in his head and we shot off into a segue of material from his other lectures - Newton's Swiss boyfriend, the Vatican's apology to Galileo some 350 years after his death, Thomas Paine feeding George Washington crusts. He was onstage for well over two hours - absolutely brilliant show.

The havoc on the roads meant that Jagged Edge, too, had been delayed and, consequently, we caught the last half hour of their set in a nearby pub. What we saw included a couple of my favourites - Carry On, Wayward Son and Don't Stop Believing but the biggest treat was when I nipped out to rescue the car from the multi-storey before the midnight lock-in; Danny's solo (Malmsteen's Adagio leading into one of his own compositions) sounded utterly fabulous echoing around the Piazza - a real Stranger On The Shore-from-a-lone-open-window moment.

Some night out, but I'm knackered this morning!

\\\\Getting Old////

Cirque du Soleil Delirium - MEN Arena, Manchester - October 2007

Just - wow!

I've been a fan of Cirque du Soleil since seeing Simon Groom (I think) cleaning Le Grand Chapiteau on Blue Peter many moons ago.

The advent of the interweb and my subsequent discovery of the "Cirque Club" has meant I have been able to secure ringside seats for the last two visits to Manchester; an extravagence I don't feel guilty about.

Their latest show, Delirium, is a departure from the usual format. Instead of their own big top, this show is performed on stage and is consequently touring the country's Arenas (are they all ice rinks?) at the moment.

Delirium is a light, dance and performance spectacle which is very much driven by the music - a selection of pieces from other Cirque shows which have been extensively reinterpreted (read: lots of drumming added!)

The story is of a man's dream - he's glad it's a dream because "it's really wierd". Not 'arf!

Performance highlights are;

the bizarre ball-girl whose elasticity would scare off all but the most determined suitor

the four amazing (really, "amazing" doesn't come close to it) male acrobats (example - two guys support a foot each of the third while the fourth does a one-handed handstand on the head of number three)

the hula-hoop girl - Princess and Izzie - you have no idea just what can be done with hoops! (example - stands on one leg with hoop going round knee, second leg perfectly vertical with two hoops going round ankle above head, two hoops on each arm - and she moves around the stage!)

The light show is amazing - all projections and stuff. One particularly special effect is the "ticker tape" release; we were right at the front waiting for the bits of paper to land on us - couldn't understand how it wasn't landing on us. It took a while to realise that it wasn't actually there! Absolutely fascinating.

The athleticism and skill of the performers is absolutely remarkable - there's not an ounce of fat on any of them.

Right, I'll stop raving now - I'm starting to sound like a press release.

If you get a chance, see it.

LiveWired - Slaithwaite, Huddersfield - October 2007

"Man With Guitar" is one of the more enduring motifs of pop music. From Leadbelly and Robert Johnson through Elvis (-ish) and Buddy Holly to Bob Dylan and James Blunt, all some people need is a acoustic six string and a bit of self belief.

Ben Brown started without us and I was a bit surprised to arrive to him singing to an essentially empty hall. Everyone brings their own little clique to these shows, so where was his? Turns out they were hiding near the back; can't've made it easy for him as he turned out a mixed set of covers and his own compositions.

I've already mentioned James Blunt and I'll do it again. Ben Brown is every bit as good as James Blunt. Ben Brown is, if anything, a better singer than James Blunt. Ben Brown has a far less-punchable face than James Blunt. In short, Ben Brown could be the next James Blunt, BUT, do we need another James Blunt? Do we, for that matter, need the one we've already got?

If he got nothing else from this performance, I hope Ben learned a little about hooking his audience. The version of Nothing Compares 2U which closed his set grabbed the sparse crowd like nothing before; slotting it in earlier in the set might've got him more of the attention he deserved.

Oh, and top marks for getting narked at an apple juice container - that's quality Grumpy Old Man fodder.

Project Sunset were, in a previous existence, Pinstripe - one of the bands recommended by Huddstock noise merchants Ridgevex. At the time, this did not inspire us to hang around; it felt a bit like an invitation to a pool party from Michael Barrymore.

They bill themselves as a dance group, but the first couple of tracks betrayed influence from The Clash and Japan which was too stong to ignore. A few white-boy-rap and heavy riffs spread on top couldn't disguise the fact that there were definitely tunes in there trying to get out.

The third song sounded like a DJ Notalent remix of something that already sounded cheesy when it was first played in Ibiza 20 years ago and then the show went a bit "meh!" to these ears - recycled Orb/Orbital/EMF signatures which drifted into late-night chatshow theme tune territory on more than one occassion. Thankfully, the last song pulled it back and the set finished on a high.

On the whole, these guys are more talented than their material demonstrates. Granted, it's not easy stuff to play in a live environment (well, not at eight-o'clock where the punters are sober, anyway) but a bit more effort on the sound rather than the mood might just take them to another level; definitely one to watch.

Extra comment from the good lady - Noah, the people on the floor are the ones who have paid to see you. You can see your bandmates any time, so face front!

Still Buzzin had a stand-in drummer for the night having carelessly mislaid Martin.

(Can I tell my drummer jokes, please?)

Those of you who have been paying attention will already know that, like Project Sunset before them, SB played Huddstock, but what a transformation.

(They're really good, promise!)

This set was streets ahead of the field in June - vocals more polished, instrumental breaks more confident, harmonies tighter; an altogether much improved performance.

(What do you mean, "Alan's bigger than me"? EVERYBODY'S bigger than me!)

They say the pen is mightier than the sword, well this geek on the internet is a firm believer in the power of the keyboard and will flag up any flimsy piece of evidence which might just support his point of view so, ahem...

QUOTE:
thought about having a go at any Annie Lennox numbers?

Was I right or was I right? Thorn In My Side was fab - a really strong showcase for Natz with not-to-be-overlooked harmony work from Paul.

(Did you hear about the drummer who locked the keys in the van?)

They slipped in a few songs I wasn't familiar with (damn these pesky kids and their modern beat combos!) before Let Me Entertain You brought out the night's obligatory mad dancer. I would have given him credit (and abuse), but Jason beat me to it.

(It took him half an hour to get the bassist out.)

Dave B's got a new jacket which makes him look like one of the slightly-camp gladiators from Arnie's film The Running Man. It's as well he took it off onstage; I was sweating cobs just watching.

The sadly truncated Jagged Edge set galloped along from It's My Life and Runaway through ...Miss A Thing (Dave B in particularly good voice), Wanted and Blue Collar Man to Comfortably Numb which sat uncomfortably (did you see what I did there?) in the middle of the break-less set.

Sweet Child... filled the dancefloor then - is it fair to say that Dave R's vocal on Separate Ways was smokin'? Yep, the dry ice machine set off the sport centre's alarms and we were evacuated!

The fire brigade (when they finally arrived - I'm glad it wasn't a real emergency) were relieved to be applauded (and wolf-whistled) onto the scene. Well, it is Slawit - they're used to being greeted by half bricks and empty beer bottles in these parts.

The all-clear given and now pushed for time, the boys closed out the night with Prayer/Bad Name/Rosie and Don't Stop Believing.

On a Bon Jovi-heavy occassion, I think we can put this down as One Wild Night?

Jagged Edge - Waterloo, Huddersfield - September 2007

The incredible shrinking venue.

Sunday 23 September; back to the Waterloo and we watched this show from the middle of the hall instead of our customary back corner. What a difference! The place is tiny!

The Brothers flicked my geek switch (again) with a snatch of Discovery from 2112 during the warm-up. I wish they’d stop doing that because I can’t help but sing along and I’m no Geddy Lee.

The boys opened old-school stylee with It’s My Life but, halfway into the first chorus, silence.

Yep, complaints from the neighbours have resulted in a decibel meter being installed at the Waterloo. 90dB and you’re out.

Assorted wire-jiggling later and we restarted; Alan reduced to one bass drum, Dave S playing bassless (or at least less-bass) keyboards, the others just grooving gently. Did it sound good? Of course it did.

Talkers. I loathe talkers but I had them right in my line of sight. Dan was rolling out his …Miss A Thing solo and some muppet decided this would be a good time to try chatting up the lassie on the other side of the table. Made me want to grab him by his sticky-out ears and repeatedly bang his head on the table while shouting “this guy’s got more talent in his split ends than you’ve got in your entire miserable body so watch and marvel you fu…………………”

(Rant interrupted by decibel meter. Normal service will resume shortly.)



























Right, sorry about that. Blue Collar Man went down well and the Be Good To Yourself/Anyway You Want Itdouble made up for the absence of Higher Place. Throw in some more Bon Jovi, a bit of REO and, before you knew it, we were into Comfortably Numb and break time.

Manchester United vs José-less Chelsea on the telly. It’s hard to decide who to boo more. It speaks volumes for the boys that there was absolutely no dissent whatsoever when the screens were switched off for the second half; one of the biggest games of the season reduced to mere filler between sets – not many bands could claim that.

Second half saw Ian Roper from Storm guesting on Summer of ’69 then the usual party pieces kept the dancefloor jumping; G’n’R, Boston, Free (complete with extended funky intro as Danny took a comfort break), Whitesnake, Bon Jovi, Journey – you know the score by now.

Rock'n'Roll was sacrificed to make room for Bed of Roses(probably a good move given the decibel meter) but to complain about this would just be picky.

Pick. Pick. Pick. Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.

Jagged Edge - Royal Oak, Blackpool - September 2007

Decisions, decisions.

You know what it's like - sometimes circumstances conspire and you're presented with a choice. What to do?

The chance of a night away in St Anne's combined with a Jaggies show in Blackpool seemed like a good idea but we arrived just in time to catch the local news telling us that the illuminations were being switched on by Dr Who and that there was an open-air gig on the prom by Natalie Imbrunpronouncable, G-g-g-gareth Gates, Daniel Beddingfield's slightly-less-annoying sister and McFly.

Blimey. Four chart-toppers (OK, Natalie's never had a number one, but she's had two number twos*) PLUS David Tennant for free, or pay a quid to see Jagged Edge?

No contest, really. Until the day the Rosinganas split to join Gareth's backing band (cover of My Generation, maybe?).

Faced with a Blackpool full, not only of pissed-up stag/hen parties but of families there to see the lights being switched on, we were slightly stunned to land an empty parking space about 25 yards from the Royal Oak. The pub is a big, imposing building in what would once have been quite a prestigious location in Blackpool's heyday. These days it's just a great big town centre pub on a major junction with very little convenient parking, so the evening looked like it was starting well.

Greetings and salutations were exchanged and the boys hit the stage in front of a medium-sized crowd. Dave B had been enthusing before the show about his new, more portable PA kit. The sound tonight was marvellous, so he's quite entitled to be pleased with both kit and crew.

After Journey, Jovi etc, the first treat of the night was an absolutely storming version of Styx's Blue Collar Man. In this country, Styx (along with REO, Journey and Foreigner) tend to be best-known for their gentler numbers, but they were a sensational pomp-rock band and BCM is possibly one of their finest moments. A great choice (those of you who don't know it will pick up on it very quickly indeed) and a song destined to become a Jaggie favourite, I feel.

A surpise airing of Poison's Every Rose Has Its Thorn brought the tempo down nicely for Comfortably Numb and a sizable chunk of the crowd went ape for Dan's guitar work.

That was noticible; the crowd were very into the music. There was none of the stand-offish "too cool to bop" nonsense I've seen at other venues - these guys were enjoying themselves and were very appreciative of the talent on display.

The second half featured (I've finally seen it and, boy, was it worth the wait!) Carry On, Wayward Son and then a guest performance by young Jo Shorten. Now, I'd been warned about this. In fact, dear reader, a lesser man might've been intimidated by the massed ranks of the Shorten family who confronted your reviewer at the interval. He would be fair, wouldn't he? He wouldn't be too harsh? Please?

I'm going to upset someone, aren't I?

Sweet Child o' Mine isn't one of my favourites, but Jo nailed it. Just as well for Dave B that she only performs in Blackpool.

The seventies stuff led into the linga-longa-Jovi spot and Dan's solo then the new-look Dave Rosingana took centre stage for his lung-busters. I won't spoil the surprise for those who haven't seen him yet, but think "Gary Moore's better looking younger brother".

The crowd were pretty rabid by now and another, really well-deserved, encore was demanded.

In summary; excellent set, great sound, fab crowd. A really, really good show. And we had the golden mile pretty much to ourselves to see the illuminations on the way back. Only downer is I think I've caught Dave B's lurgy.

See you all at the Waterloo...







* Yes, I looked this up. I might be a bit of a music geek, but I have no knowledge of the charts post-Duran Duran-ish.

Jagged Edge - Queensbury, Bradford, July 2007

Remember Wurzel Gummidge? Well I've got my grumpy head on today.

"If it's too loud, you're too old!"

That was the slogan on the back of a Kiss t-shirt I used to own (Creatures of the Night-era, I think).

I felt positively ancient this morning, my ears still ringing from last night's onslaught.

Queensbury Conservative Club is a small venue and has the potential to host a very enjoyable, intimate club-show, but last night's wasn't it; as I say about 16 times a day to our darling daughter, "turn it DOWN!"

Volume aside, there were other problems;
* It's slightly ironic that the boys' first show in a smoke-free venue (OK, Slawit sports centre excepted; you know what I mean) was the first time I've seen Dave B's voice dry up on him.
* The stage ceiling was just too low for Dave R who looked fearful of banging his head on it at times.
* Strange crowd.

It was a fairly standard set, so I'll skip on the play-by-play. The sound balance (especially on the vocal harmonies) on Higher Place was absolutely spot on and had me really excited for a great show but, by the time Danny had solo-ed out ...Miss A Thing the problems had kicked in and it was all a bit muddy.

Then Mr Bamforth put himself on my hitlist.

"This is the point in the show where we do a cheesy number like Boston, or this one by REO Speedwagon".

Cheesy.

Cheesy?

CHEESY???

Look, I try not to take my music too seriously. Back in the day I had a perm and even appeared in public wearing spandex trousers, so I'm in no position to take my music seriously. But, you do not, ever, call Boston "cheesy". Not when you play Thunder covers.

Not without terrible retribution being exacted.

Sweet Child O'Mine was accompanied by a young lady channelling mad-dancer-Gordon from Huddstock. If you're reading - yes, we did notice you almost go A-o-T. I laughed. Sorry.

Faithfully is really coming together musically - it gets better with each performance - but Dave's voice was starting to go by this point and the vocal sounded a bit forced. I know you don't want to do a straight copy of the original, but just a little gentler?

Biggest surprise of the night was the crowd suddenly waking up after ...Rosie and demanding another encore - they'd been pretty unresponsive for the rest of the night, but it gave the guys the opportunity to give us another.

They chose More Than a Feeling.

Cheesy, huh?

Next home gig isn't for about 10 weeks - I suspect we'll squeeze in an awayday before then!


An edam sings Thunder.  Yesterday.

Huddstock Festival - Castle Hill, Huddersfield, June 2007

By the time we got to Woodstock, we were half a million strong...



Well, maybe not, but the Huddstock crowd was into three figures when we arrived, and half of them seemed to be the Still Buzzin' entourage!

First band, 10 Floors Below Society were well into their set and my first thought was, "Oh god, I hope we're not in for an afternoon of Coldplay wannabes".

Actually, TFBS didn't make me want to kill anyone; decent tunes, well played. The singer looked a bit uncomfortable stuck behind his keyboard, mind. Or maybe it was just that he looks uncannily like William'n'Harry's locked-in-the-attic secret brother?

Next were Still Buzzin'; our reason for being there early. This lot have been heavily plugged on these boards, haven't they? A good, fun set which led to the invention of our pastime for the afternoon – Edge Bingo, or the "what songs won't the Jaggies be playing?" game.



Very good covers of When September Ends and I Predict A Riot were overshadowed by a storming version of Hanging On he Telephone. Guys, you have no idea how close you came to being burned inside a giant wicker Debbie Harry. Covering Blondie is dangerously close to sacrilege in my book, but you pulled it off – back of the net!

Singer Nat has a fabulous set of pipes - thought about having a go at any Annie Lennox numbers?

Oh, yeah - scratch Jaggie song number 1 - It's My Life

With all due respect to those who'd already played, Red Star were the first act of he day who looked like a rock band. The singer, Will, prowls the stage like the bastard offspring of Johnny Lydon and Joey Ramone and sports the best sideburns since Charlie George. His attitude is love-me-or-loathe-me-you-will-not-ignore-me and, on top of all of this, he can actually sing! The acapella introduction to the set was almost prog rock-like and the music, although obviously heavily influenced by punk, Oasis and assorted other Manchester bands, owes more to Sunshine of Your Love than Wonderwall.



Me likey!

Oh, Red Star also gave us our first mad dancer of the day, a borderline-anorexic named Gordon.

Next up were Chasing Amy, a band popular at the YorkVic, apparently.

They opened with Teenage Kicks which, I have to say, was a bit creepy coming from a bloke on the wrong side of forty. Among unusual covers (I have never heard anyone play a Cult cover - Li’l Devil was pretty damned good), the Amy boys went overboard in helping us chalk off songs from the Jaggie set as favourites like Sweet Child o' Mine and Whole Lotta Rosie were "borrowed". The vocalist sounded a lot like Feargal Sharkey on the higher-pitched numbers and a bit like Larry the Lamb on more than one occasion.



Now, here's a confession; I likes me a bit of well-executed soul/ska. The whole Two Tone thing blew up when I was at high school and, much to the wife's dismay, I know all the words to Too Much Too Young to this day.



I had high hopes for Northern Beats, but they didn't quite scratch me where it itched. "Best dancers of the day" to their little group of followers, though, and their guitarist wins the "least rock'n'roll name at the festival" award. Cecil, mate, you need a nickname.

Remember that first time you bumped into one of your old schoolteachers in the pub and it took a few seconds to recognise them in unusual surroundings? Top marks to whoever lifted Give Me What’s Mine for interval music – it sounded fabulous through the big PA! Give me a shout if you want the rest of the album – a real overlooked 80s gem.

But then…

Aaargh! My ears! Bleeding! The noise! Make it stop!

It's official. I am Getting Old. It is the duty of youth to produce music which their elders do not understand. When they fail to do this, we end up with a hundred Coldplay soundalikes.



Ridgevex fulfil their duty admirably and I salute them for that.

But can they do it somewhere else in future?

Oh, mad Gordon had a dance partner by now – a somewhat larger chap the sun was slowly turning into a pink Tellytubby. I’ll bet he suffered come Sunday morning.

Bongos and a trumpet made an appearance on-stage and my heart sank just a little.



From what I could gather, Steam Powered are a sort of local blues/jazz/funk supergroup. Sounding like Robert Johnson meets Carlos Santana this is not normally my idea of fun but, given the weather and the vibe of the day (man!), a perfect fit.

Anyone get a full house in Edge Bingo? I was waiting for More Than A Feeling for my fourth corner.

Jagged Edge opened with the Higher Place/Runaway/Don't Want To Miss A Thing trifecta and, for the first time all afternoon, Dave B was looking chilled (stressful day behind the desks, eh?).



I don't know how well it fed back to the stage, so I'll tell you - that bloody Aerosmith song got the biggest, most overwhelmingly positive reception of anything, by anyone, all afternoon.



Danny's solo was awesome. I think he got The Bumper Book Of Guitar Hero Poses for Christmas as he made use of the extra stage space to throw all the shapes from Aldo Nova to Zakk Wylde.



Love Walked In led to Separate Ways (top vocal from Dave R) and Don't Stop Believing before Comfortably Numb inspired all the stoners to light up (again). Danny owned the stage.



Way too short a set, but that's the nature of festivals.

Modeliste were nex...

Oh who cares? The headliners have left the building...



Footnote:

Anyone else been watching Any Dream Will Do? We got home in time to see Lee doing a damned fine Living On A Prayer and it got me thinking; that Will from Red Star? He could be Joseph.

Jagged Edge - Hartlepool WMC - May 2007

Once upon a time, in those happy, clappy carefree years BM (before marriage) we all used to have season tickets at Leeds Road. Part of the masochistic ritual of being a Town fan was to take in at least one away game per season. These occassions, awaydays to near-neighbours (Bradford, Sheffield, Barnsley), journeys into the unknown (Bristol, Stoke) or expeditions into deepest, darkest Lancashire (Oldham, Rochdale) were all unique experiences; exciting and terrifying in equal measures and never, ever disappointing.

It was the spirit of these old times which took us to

Hartlepool Working Men's Club, 12 May 2007

We approached the venue with trepidation; it resembles those "secure facilities" the BBC reporters in Baghdad broadcast from - thick, brick-proof glazing and surrounded by an 8-foot high steel fence; "Toto, I don't think we're in Gledholt anymore."

Fortunately, we found some familiar, friendly faces in the hall and settled down for a night of high jinx and laughter.

"Eyes down for a full house!"

Oh dear. Albert Haller the Bingo Caller has been booked as support act.

Someone cracked a joke.

Someone laughed.

"A little order, please!"

The command was issued in the same tone of voice (albeit different accent) I last heard about 20 years ago when a 7'6" biker in a Glasgow eastend pub told me I'd spilled his pint. I didn't argue then and I'm considerably slower and less pissed these days.

We shut up.

The band played their first set to a generally receptive if not exactly enthusiastic audience. Old Albert, doing his best impression of that guy in the Wheeltappers' and Shunters' Social Club (I'm not the only one who remembers that, right?) had said that they'd be playing for 30 minutes, but thankfully, that message hadn't reached the guys who gave us a normal-length mix of Journey, Jovi, Aerosmith and Boston before a really good and appropriately-spaced-out-feeling Comfortably Numb.

As soon as the stage was clear, Albert was at it again.

How long? Half an hour? I don't know, I'd lost the will to live.

They do take their bingo seriously in Hartlepool.

The second set opened and I was surprised at the number of unlikely-looking people who were word-perfect in Journey-ese; don't judge a rocker by her floral-patterned Etam dress, I guess.

The dance floor was kept full with G'n'R, Free, Bad Company and Bon Jovi numbers and a number of requests were being passed to Dave B by now; happy birthdays, happy anniversaries etc. I must confess, I wanted one of them to say "Can you play The Crystal Chandeliers" but the only surprise was the jammed version of Smoke On The Water the boys knocked out.

Special credit to Dave R here - his, erm, improvised lyric probably went un-noticed among the drinking hoards. How can someone with so much hair not know the words to Smoke...?

A somewhat curtailed Adagio led into Rock'n'Roll and ...Rosie as usual; a rockin' good end to an interesting night.

Nice to know away matches are still fun.

Jagged Edge - Golcar British Legion - April 2007

Y'know how sometimes you put something down and you can see in your mind's eye where you left it but you can't quite put your hand on it?

Maybe it's my age, but I did that with a word recently; it was at the Slaithwaite show and I was buggered if I could find it. This afternoon, it popped back into my mind, but more of that later.

Winkle Club Benefit. Golcar British Legion, 15 April 2007.

Unusually, we got to hear a bit of the boys' soundcheck today and rather enlightening it was, too. The brothers Rosingana have a very exciting version of The Trees by Rush hidden away in their not inconsiderable repertoire which I'd like to hear and I really, really want to hear all of Carry On Wayward Son, because that teaser was just awesome.

I expected this afternoon's set to lean heavily on that from Thursday and so it turned out, but the variations were just enough to keep us from getting complacent; we had Journey, Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, REO Speedwagon, Pink Floyd; all good, crowd-pleasing stuff in the first half. In the second, Don't Stop Believing and a bunch of oldies - (Love is Like) Oxygen, Jump and Bed of Roses - were highlights, but I don't want to spend too much time on the songs this time out (other than to complain about the absence of Faithfully).

Big kudos to the sound guys - this was streets ahead of the Rock Cafe sound throughout - the harmonies sounded great and the instrumental/vocal mix was spot-on.

Dave Bamforth excelled on his big ballads; Don't Want to Miss... (NOT my favourite song, normally) and Bed of Roses sounded better than they have in ages; I don't think I'm the first to suggest that the Jaggies' Bed of Roses is better than the original.

Anyway, "Soaring" was the word I mislaid. Careless of me, really - it doesn't hide itself particularly well between "soap" and "soave" in the OED - but I couldn't find it until this afternoon.

"Soaring" is the word I wanted to (indeed, am about to) apply to Dave Rosingana's backing vocals; his Wanted, Dead or Alive could strip paint at 50 yards; you're left wondering if he really needs that microphone.

Best things about today? A lot to choose from. The best news for the band is that I heard a fair few Jaggie-virgins saying they'd be back. My good lady was delighted to see Dave B's leather strides make a rare appearance in the first half (honestly, if it wasn't for Lady Bamforth, I'd find this really worrying).

Worst thing? Well, it's probably the last gig we'll be at until Huddstock, so someone else is going to have to contribute to this thread between now and then.

Now, can someone tell me what a winkle club does?

Jagged Edge - Rock Cafe, Huddersfield - April 2007

The Rock Café's usually a nice spot for a quiet pint of an afternoon, but I really don't rate it as a live venue, especially for the Jaggies. The sound's always a bit iffy (moreso than normal, tonight) and the boys deserve a proper stage. Hey, just my opinion…

Higher Place is a great set opener (as a Perry fan, I've never really rated Augeri-period Journey, but this is an exception) and leads us into a fine set of JE standards with a few not-heard-in-a-while tracks to keep us on our toes; it's great to hear More Than A Feeling and Take It On The Run again.

One thing the Rock Café does allow is for us to study the craftsmanship that goes into a JE show. Getting up-close'n'personal makes it easy to pick out the different parts in the harmony that we take for granted; it means we feel Alan's (under-appreciated?) drumming; it lets us taste the sweet, sweet chemistry the boys have (sorry, this is starting to sound all NME, isn't it?)

You know the band are on form when they're ready for a break before you are; tonight's is one such performance. Dan, whether producing a note-perfect Schon reproduction or improvising like crazy over Dave's lush keyboards is absolutely smokin', his fingers utterly mesmerising as he fits more notes to the bar than Mariah "warbling harridan" Carey.

The second half is a romp; Sweet Child o'Mine, a version of Faithfully which is a massive step up from the Slaithwaite show, Give Me All Your Love Tonight (look, Whitesnake are not, never have been and never will be "heavy", OK?) and the obligatory Bon Jovi singalong lead us into Dan's solo and the encores.

I love the change in dynamic the band undergoes when Dave'n'Dave swap roles; the gum-popping bassist becomes a different person when he takes the lead and (literally) lets his hair down. Old Percy Plant himself would love tonight's Rock'n'Roll and ...Rosie was a blast as always.

Thanks guys, great show. What's that? Time for one more?

Oh boy, Girl Can't Help It is an earworm to keep me going until…



OH YA BEAUTY! I've got tickets for Sunday!

Rock 4 Kids Charity Gig - Slaithwaite, March 2007

Rock 4 Kids - Colne Valley Leisure Centre, 24 March 2007

Ah, dear, dear Slawit. It's a funny place; whenever I visit, I feel as if I've just doubled the gene pool.

And labels are funny things, especially when applied to music. If you've never heard a band before, all your preconceptions are built on the label someone has stuck on them. We all do it; music is one of the few things which haven't been "PC"ed yet - it's still acceptable to dislike various types of music; you don't have to tolerate other people's (lack of) taste and accommodate their wishes; you can just tell them to **** off and turn your Walkman up to 11.

Hence, without fear of imprisonment, I can state that hip-hop makes me run screaming from the room, that opera leaves me cold and that MariahHoustonDion is the three-headed beast in the Gospel According to Tommy.

Two labels always make me nervous, though. The first is "alternative"; alternative to what, exactly? The second is "Indie".

Now, I'm old enough to remember what "Indie" meant; it was a post-punk thing, independent record labels releasing material the big boys wouldn't touch. It was Postcard (Orange Juice, Aztec Camera), Rough Trade (Scritti Politti, Spizz Energi) and Factory (Joy Division). Not any more; "indie" these days seems to mean blokes with guitars playing vaguely 60s-revivalist stuff; The Answer and Kaiser Chiefs have a lineage that goes back through The Jam to The Small Faces and The Kinks; a very London-centric commercial sound; and the big labels love it. What's "indie" about that?

So you see, Friends of Dave had all this to contend with before they'd even played a note, and all because of a label. They opened the show with a Snow Patrol number and, right away, you could tell they were enjoying themselves (even if they looked as if they should be in the pub along the road watching the England game). What's not to love about a band with Lee Hurst's long-lost brothers playing lead and rhythm guitars? Material was as you'd expect - Kaisers, Killers etc - a good start to the night.

Next up was Vital Signs. They were billed as "Colne Valley's answer to The Commitments". Now, there's another label for you. One which displays a singular lack of ambition. You wouldn't get a comedian calling himself "Lindley's Jim Davidson"; you wouldn't get on the shortlist at Home FM if you called yourself "The Simon Bates of Dalton".

Simon Cowell would have had a field day with them; this was really, really bad karaoke. Hook up a dynamo to the recently-departed James Brown because he's spinning in his grave a damn sight faster than those turbines on the Civic Centre roof; "I Feel Good" appeared to start in 3 different keys. They almost rescued the set with a politically-corrected "Sweet Home Alabama" but, from there on in, they clearly started making it up as they went along. The random song selector threw up Coldplay, Kaiser Chiefs, Bryan Adams (I giggled at the thought of Dave hastily rewriting the Jaggies' setlist), Oasis and - horror of horrors - REM (the appearance of a mandolin onstage these days has the same effect a saxophone used to because, just as "sax = Baker Street", "mandolin = Losing My Religion"). The cherry on the cake was the inclusion of "Pride" by the most over-rated band in living memory, U2. This was clearly shoe-horned in because the singer thinks he's Bono. Someone needs to tell him he isn't.

I thought the mini-moshers in the crowd were really cute. Everyone should have one as a pet, but they're messy little critters, aren't they?

It's over 20 years since my college mate, Brian, started raving about this new, super-charged rock music he called "thrash". He dragged me along to a gig in Glasgow (2 quid, if memory serves; bear in mind that it used to cost a fiver to see the top bands at the Apollo at this time, kids; none of your £80-to-stand-in-a-field nonsense back then) featuring two up-and-coming acts of the genre. Anthrax were really funny. Noisy as hell, but heavy on the humour. Metallica scared the living bejesus out of me.

Icarus very much reminded me of Anthrax. The image is straight out of 1985 - Dom should have arrived on a skateboard! Thrash musicianship is under-rated; the key and tempo changes are legion and unpredictable to the casual ear but Icarus were very tight; a very talented bunch of guys (much more so than they deserve to be at that age). I was particularly impressed by the brave but expertly executed cover of Maiden's "Phantom of the Opera" (even if it was a bit rushed to begin with; it's fast enough guys, you don't need to prove anything!) and the great Sabbath medley. Nice touches of humour; they didn't take themseves too seriously under the lights, though singer/lead Sam could smile a bit more off-stage! Oh, bassist Dan looks like Captain Caveman.

Y'know what? I'm going to let someone else write up the Jaggies' set. I'll only make one comment; "Faithfully" has the potential to be very, very special, but that's my school disco memories you're playing with, boys - it needs a bit of polish yet...

Whatever happened to number 48?

Jagged Edge, Waterloo, February 2007

Waterloo Bowling Club. It's not the first place you'd think of for a romantic assignation but, way back in 2000, that's where my then-girlfriend wanted to spend Sunday afternoon.

"There's a really good band playing - I've seen them before; they do all the sort of stuff you like!"

I recall being quite impressed by the turnout and laughing when I heard Journey's "Escape" album being played beforehand. Did this lot really think they should have Journey supporting them?

The band - named "Impossible Dream", or something equally banal - hit the stage to a decent response and proceeded to turn in pretty good versions of a variety of AOR and soft rock classics. To be honest, they weren't that memorable; the singer could hold a tune and the guitarist desperately wanted to be Eddie Van Halen. They should have let him do "Eruption" and get it out of his system, but he had to settle for "Jump".

After an hour or so, the singer announced that they were taking a break and that, later, he'd be joined onstage by some old friends for a reunion of sorts. The buzz picked up.

The band which took the stage in the second half was a different kettle of fish altogether. The chemistry between then was plain to see; a tight, cohesive sound with strong vocal harmonies - now I was sold.

Six and a half years later, Jagged Edge are back at the Waterloo. The crowd's big again, but now the faces are familiar. The setlist is as strong as ever, with the usual numbers from Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, Thunder and Pink Floyd jostling for space with more than usual from Journey (as the boys perfect their set for the Journey Convention later this month) and a couple of not-played-in-yonks numbers ("Jump" and "Summer of '69") on which the band were joined by their former bassist (an increasingly regular occurence - there seems to be a never-ending stream of ex-Jaggies!).

The lightshow seemed to work particularly well on this occasion, but the main thing was the sound - absolutely top-drawer; the best I've heard the boys sound in ages (hangovers not withstanding!)

Oh, and that girlfriend? She hasn't been for quite some time. These days I go to gigs with my wife.

Funny, they look a lot alike...