We didn't know it but, back in the much-maligned eighties, we were spoilt rotten.
In the days before 24 hour music television, the big bands recorded an album a year then toured -
really toured - so we unwashed masses could see our gods in the flesh. It was the only way for them to stay in the spotlight; rock fans have
always been fickle.
Looking back to calendar year 1984 (end of high school/start of college), I reckon I saw;
(deep breath) The Scorpions (with Mama's Boys supporting), Gary Moore, Whitesnake, Thompson Twins, Ultravox, OMD, Iron Maiden (with Waysted), Dio (with Queensryche), Kiss (with Bon Jovi), Big Country (at least twice), Duran Duran, Malmsteen's Rising Force (that might've been '85) and Hanoi Rocks. The most expensive ticket was Kiss at £8; I think Hanoi was a couple of quid on the door.
In and among these big shows, though, were the Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights spent at The Heathery Bar, The Dial Inn, The Mayfair, The Howff, various students' unions and dozens of other pubs and clubs hosting a most vibrant local music scene; The Dolphins (the finest band who never made it), Glasgow (named for their home city because "it's good enough for Chicago or Boston"), Zero Zero (whose least talented member, Andy McCafferty, changed his name to Tantrum and went on to play guitar in the Almighty), Heavy Pettin' (Scotland's Def Leppard, until some muppet promoter talked them into entering Eurovision) or Chasar (a heavily Rush-influenced power trio with the biggest - I'm talking size of individuals here - following I've ever seen; not one of them under 6 foot).
So what if my memories are from Lanarkshire and the west of Scotland? Barrow, Huddersfield and Bradford would have had their equivalent (OK, maybe not Barrow); take a moment to wallow in your own nostalgia...
Feels nice, doesn't it?
OK, there is a point to this (apart from me namedropping all the rather cool bands I got to see, even if OMD were well past their best) and that is that we simply don't have the wealth of places for bands to play these days. The money men tied up acts and venues alike many moons ago, so it feels bad to criticise a new place, especially a rock-friendly one, but...
Naughty, naughty, very naughty. To advertise a support band - on the
door, on the
night - when you know perfectly well that they're a no-show - is just
rude. Especially when they sound as good as Whitefire do on their MySpace page. I was rather looking forward to seeing them; not to an "I'd go to Blackpool specially" extent, but I'll certainly be keeping an eye open for them appearing on this side of t'hill.
Apparently, Riffs don't employ cleaners, either. The boys' last appearance there resulted in numerous complaints about muck being dislodged from the ceiling into glasses, so this performance is an adventure in lo-fi; Jagged Edge on a house PA, no fancy flashing lights, no annoying flashing laser; just The Rock.
Let's smell what it's cookin'...
Without the distractions, I'm immersed in the sound. The mix is fantastic; swirling keys and wailing guitars twist and turn around the solid rhythm; vocals are perfectly blended; DB will hate me for saying it, but this sound is up there with the very best presentations with the full kit. Only a slightly muddy bass and some spurious feedback let it down.
Runaway trips over itself in the closing bars so we get a rather ramshackle improvised ending;
...Miss a Thing has rarely sounded so chilled; Boston, Styx and Thunder are effortless,
Comfortably Numb is possibly the best it has ever sounded; all the more surprising, then, when we learn that Dann can't hear a thing onstage.
Opening part two, Big Dave teases us by introducing Asia's
Don't Cry but the song (sadly) doesn't get an airing ( I hope the rest of the band are listening to the big man's new song suggestions). The set is, instead, fairly standard with Jo making her usual appearance in front of her home audience,
Don't Stop Believing and the Bon Jovi double providing the singalong soundtrack and
All Right Now and
Rock'n'Roll filling the dancefloor; the audience becoming more animated as the night draws to a close.
Dann's solo highlights just how good the sound is; every single note is crystal clear; watching the slowly encroaching crowd gather around him brings back school memories;
fight! fight! fight!As I noted previously when we visited the Royal Oak, the Blackpool crowd enjoy their music and show their appreciation; it's a shame that Riffs doesn't have the same respect for its punters.
The rather feeble house spotlights didn't make for great photography, either;
