Jason Manford - LBT, May 2010

Laughter's the best medicine.


If you've been paying attention (you have been paying attention, haven't you?) you'll know I was a bit low, but sometimes things just fall nicely.

We were away on holiday the last time Jason Manford appeared in Huddersfield and I feared we'd missed the last chance we were going to get to see him in the LBT - his star was in the ascendant; he was heading for bigger (and better?) things. Consequently, I wasn't paying attention and didn't notice this warm-up for his Edinburgh Fringe show until it was well on the way to being a sell-out. Our seats are therefore what was left rather than our first choice, but we're facing the stage, even if we're ~ahem~ slightly more elevated than we'd like.

It's a surprisingly long way down from the second tier; Victorian Methodists clearly didn't suffer from vertigo.

Actually, the first pleasant surprise of the evening comes even before we've reached our seats; Jason reckons a £5-per-ticket refund (on the already bargain £14 face value) is in order because the show isn't polished yet. Jessica spends several minutes studying the notes we've been handed, checking for signs of forgery; they're real.

Jason quickly establishes an easy rapport with the audience; there's no fear from the floor, no worry that he's going to humiliate anyone - he's just a mate who wants to chat. A postman on the front row gives Jason a chance to slate "modernisation", a couple of forensic science students from the Uni let him have a gentle dig at Polyversities ("Where did you want to go?") and - courtesy of their absent friend - students in general.

Armed with nothing more than a few reminder notes, he takes us through growing up; touches on politics, football, school, religion; nothing too challenging or threatening but all beautifully observed.

We're invited to offer up our favourite misunderstandings during the interval and this provides the kindling for a very interactive second half. A request for tellings-off from famous people encourages the ginger girl from the Jimmy Carr show...

...STOP PRESS...

I never wrote that up, did I? OK, very briefly then...

JIMMY CARR "RAPIER WIT" - Huddersfield Town Hall, 19 March 2010

Jimmy's Rapier Wit tour started about a week after his Joke Technician tour ended.

We saw him at the Town Hall and he was every bit as good as he was last time.

There was a ginger girl heckler who really didn't know when to shut up, no matter how many times Jimmy told her.

He didn't tell the amputee soldier/paralympic team joke.

But he should have.

Right, where was I? Oh yeah, a request for tellings-off from famous people encourages the ginger girl from the Jimmy Carr show to volunteer her bollocking. This has the effect of getting her heckled by someone else who remembered her. Jimmy Carr is trumped by Brian Clough, which is fair enough.

Jason regales us with his Royal Variety Show experiences then personal hygiene (or rather, lack of it) forms an unlikely subject for a bit. Jason is, in turn, impressed by Huddersfield's Christmas lights being switched on by Patrick Stewart then somewhat taken aback by our blasé dismissal of Jean Luc's "celebrity".

Finally free of the Peter Kay comparisons, Jason has carved himself a potential niche as a new century family entertainer; there's enough "bad language" to give him a little edge, but not so much that you'd hide the DVD from granny or all but the youngest children. Would it be unfair to call him a slightly-less-middle-class Michael McIntyre? Probably, not least because his age means that Jason is younger than the bulk of his audience.

Jason's tour proper is selling out multiple nights at three and four thousand seater venues and each and every person who pays their £20 will leave believing they've had value for money. Tonight, we got over two hours of stage time, with pretty much all-new, extremely funny material for nine quid. That's a bargain in anybody's books.

Dio è morto – God is Dead

My hero is dead.

In 1983 my life changed. Up until then, I’d been quite a chart follower; a fairly conventional teenager – the bulk of my record collection was made up of stuff which had been top 20 – Duran Duran back to The Specials back to The Jam, back to Blondie back to the Four Seasons (December 1963 being the first record I ever went into a shop to buy).

I’d quite enjoyed my music but it had never really defined me; I’d liked some punk without being a punk, some ska without being a rude boy, some electropop without being a new romantic, some rock without being a rocker. That changed on an evening in late summer 1983. Tom Russell’s rock show on Radio Clyde – “Lie back, relax, enjoy yourself and stay awake!” - was my falling-asleep-sound of choice back then; I usually lasted half an hour or so but, when Tom opened the show with a song called Holy Diver and promised more later, I knew this wasn’t going to be a normal night.

An hour or so later Evil Eyes and Don’t Talk To Strangers had sealed the deal; I was a Dio fan. On Saturday morning I was in old Mr Jameson’s record shop; of course he knew Dio, didn’t I? The album wasn’t out yet, but the 12” single got played and played and played until it was. I rounded up the troops and organised the trip to the Apollo to see this wonderful new band live. It was, and remains, the best gig I ever went to. The Apollo was the greatest venue in the world and Ronnie knew it.

I wore my tour t-shirt for all my Highers in 1984. Of course I passed them all. Its “lucky” status thus established, I wore it for every exam through college, so my degree, my career and most of my life-defining decisions owe rather a lot to Ronnie James Dio.

In time, I explored the back catalogue – Black Sabbath, Rainbow, Elf, all the way back to his rockabilly-doo-wop-whatever-you-call-that-fifties-sound origins with Ronnie and The Prophets (well worth a listen, metalheads - you might learn something) – and saw them again and again (the infamous Dio vs Denzil fight, and his apology from the Edinburgh stage for not playing “somewhere else” included.  That was with Brian from college - running for the train afterwards is probably the last time I managed more than 200 metres without collapsing in a spluttering, breathless heap.)

Ronald James “Dio” Padavona passed away peacefully after a long illness on Sunday 16 May 2010, aged 67. The world is a worse place for his leaving.

Jagged Edge - Ashfield - May 2010

Two for the price of one...

At Dann’s suggestion, I’m having a listen to the new (well, the latest) Dream Theater album while I’m writing this, so you’ll be getting two reviews in one.

Anticlimax. It’s a very odd feeling and one I’ve only experienced on a handful of occasions. Scotland going out of Argentina ’78 despite that performance against Holland; the second Spandau Ballet album on which they went from synthesiser innovators to crap soul/funk in the space of half-an-hour; Albion Rovers missing out on promotion 10 minutes after everyone else’s season ended because the East Fife game had been delayed for crowd congestion (yes, really) and they scored in the 90th minute; Evita, the film I waited for for two whole decades (I’d braced myself for Madge, but Banderas’ mediocrity took me by surprise); and now the 2010 election.

Black Clouds and Silver Linings opens with A Nightmare to Remember; a cheerful story about a car crash. Good musically, a bit "meh!" lyrically and downright embarrassing vocally, especially when they do the grunt-y stuff at the end.

I’ve been an advocate of proportional representation ever since John The Mon taught us the ins and outs of the single transferrable vote in 3^rd year modern history, but I never really thought I’d see it in force for a British parliamentary election. Despite my generally laid-back, cheerful disposition, I am quite a glass-half-empty cynic when it comes to the stuff that really matters; I tend to assume that the bastards won’t do the right thing, that way I’m rarely disappointed. Just for once, though, I dared to hope – almost believe – that things really were about to get better but, when it came to the moment of actually putting your marks on papers, you all bottled it and let your tribal hearts overrule your rebellious heads once again.

Well, most of you did. Enough to give us a bum-faced overlord for the next few years, anyway. Sometimes I hate you all.

It's just occurred to me that the last Dream Theater album I actually listened to all the way through was 1994's Awake, so it seems I managed to get through 13 years of NewLabour without our paths crossing. A quick check reveals that I've missed six studio and four live albums in that time. Really? Four live albums? Does anyone need four live albums? With rare exceptions, they're shite. Anyway, A Rite of Passage is an upbeat little ditty, maybe as close as Dream Theater will ever get to recording a pop song and certainly the closest the Masons will ever get to being in one.

In need of cheering up, we head for Barnsley, There. I said it. You’ll never hear or read that sentence ever again. I like the Ashfield, but it really could do with some form of carpark; it just feels wrong leaving the car on the main road like that. My t-shirt - last gig's "New Singer..." design - gets a few smiles (and a few scowls from those who think it's some sort of Tory propaganda); satire hasn't reached South Yorkshire, clearly.

Ooh! I take back the pop song comment! Wither could quite easily be a Styx song. The vocals are starting to annoy me a bit now; if DT had someone who could actually sing, they could be something really special.

Regular readers (there are a few of you) will have gathered that Linda and I have exceptionally unfashionable - make that uncool - listening and viewing habits so it'll come as no surprise to you to learn that Glee is on our weekly schedule. I have a theory, however, that we may not be the only Jaggie regulars with an interest in the show. It can't just be coincidence that the show has featured REO Speedwagon, Van Halen, Journey and now Motley Crue, can it? Is big Dave moonlighting on the production team? If he turns up in a cheerleader's outfit you heard it here first.

Uh oh. More grunting (or is it growling?) The Shattered Fortress has the feel of one of Rush's multi-parters, but it's a close-but-no-cigar effort; more Natural Science than 2112. There's a rather dodgy, heavily processed spoken part half-way through which doesn't do it for me. On the subject of Rush, the next track, The Best of Times, follows a similar vibe to its predecessor but does it much better; very Spirit of Radio. My favourite so far.

Anyway, there aren't any surprises in tonight's (pretty much unchanged) set, so it's nice to just sit back and enjoy a well performed show by a bunch of guys who are coming together really well. Dann is fluid and looking more into it than he has in ages; Big Dave and Alan are in the groove; Dave keys is dancing! Bob? Bob is finding his feet very nicely; a couple of gigs down the road he looks more comfortable with his new bandmates and it shows in his vocal, too; much more relaxed; my previous criticism about his harmonies dealt with and forgotten.

Final track The Count of Tuscany clocks in at an incredible 20 minutes; I'm fairly sure I own albums which barely last that long. It's another song which is really engaging from a musical perspective but is left wanting lyrically and vocally, so let's hear it for the Special Edition! Black Clouds and Silver Linings comes with a couple of bonuses; a compilation of cover versions (and why not? Everyone else seems to be doing it), and an instrumental version of the entire album; all the good stuff without the weaknesses. I wonder if The Brothers fancy recording some vocal tracks?

With excellent sound throughout, highlights are Feels Like the First Time, Blue Collar Man, Comfortably Numb and Dann's solo (complete with improvised finale as the rest of the band have forgotten to come back) but that isn't an easy choice from such a well executed set. As I've said before, some nights are just better than others. This was one of them.