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.
Saturday 27 October 2007
Sunday 14 October 2007
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.
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.
Thursday 11 October 2007
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////
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////
Tuesday 9 October 2007
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.
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.
Saturday 6 October 2007
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?
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?
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