Smoothing Jagged Edges

Huddersfield's Got Talent

2011-06-03T23:59:00.000-07:00

Jimmy Carr - Laughter Therapy Tour - Huddersfield Town Hall, 2 June 2011

Jimmy Carr’s been in the business for over a decade, now, touring almost constantly. For the last five or six years, he’s performed about 250 shows per year in venues which hold between one and three thousand people. Where his peergroup (many of whom are unfit to recycle his cast-offs) have “graduated” to performing a handful of shows in horribly impersonal arenas, Jimmy has remained true to his craft and continues to deliver his material in an intimate setting on a near-nightly basis.

But, today, he might be regretting it because, this morning, Jimmy Carr woke up, gazed at his hotel ceiling, and remembered the night he was upstaged by a clockmaker, a pharmacist and a woman from the social security.

The Laughter Therapy tour rolled into town and proved to be a far more interactive affair than previous shows. For sure, Jimmy delivers the six-jokes-a-minute repartee that keeps us going back year after year, but both halves of this year’s show are built around his new experiments in audience participation; an interview with someone with an interesting job (enter Andy the clockmaker, a ball of alcohol-, adrenaline- and pure nervous energy-fuelled neuroses, to tell us about the £26k special limited edition he’s been making for Wills and Kate) and a contest to turn a punter into a comedian (Susie, the woman from the social would have won on any other night, but she had Benal (or Ben-Al, or maybe Bin Al – apparently his dad couldn’t spell it, either) to deal with.

As seen in The Huddersfield Examiner!

Benal’s a locum pharmacist who missed his vocation because a sizeable chunk of last night’s sold-out audience would pay good money to see him again.

Jimmy? He was Jimmy. If you read the HateMail or the Express, you think he’s the anti-Christ. Those of us who are already wondering when next year’s show will reach us just know he’s a contender for funniest -- and unquestionably the most consistent -- comedian of this golden age of stand-up.

Sound and fury, signifying nothing.

2011-02-27T11:59:00.000-08:00

I got home from work on Friday, pottered about a bit then turned on the computer and pulled up Firefox.

My home page had changed.

Instead of the familiar red, black and white page which has greeted me every time I've gone online for over a decade, I was faced with multicoloured text and a message my brain couldn't process.

I read it again. And again. I looked for some handle on the joke. Then I realised there wasn't a handle because it wasn't a joke.

Then I swore. Lots.

No, I wasn't infected by a virus; my browser had not been hijacked.

The BASTARDS had closed us down.

The FUCKING BASTARDS had FUCKING closed us FUCKING down.

No FUCKING warning, nothing. Just FUCKING switched FUCKING off.

Guardian Talk, GUT, simultaneously the most interesting, stimulating, intellectual, trivial, infuriating and utterly insane website on the entire English-speaking web. No FUCKING more.

Our affair began in the same year I met my wife; millennium year. Internet access was a new thing at work and I was reading a story about the government's NHS plans on The Guardian's website when I found a link inviting me to "Talk About It Here!"

The Brave NewLabour World was young and what lay behind that simple order was a brand new soapbox where unrepentant, unreconstructed lefties like me could shout and scream to our hearts' content about and at liberals and conservatives, with and without capitals.

After lurking for a while, my first post was to answer a question about the Reynolds Girls on one of the quiz threads. "Tommy" was taken so I appended my favourite wrestling reference to create the user name I've used all over ever since. EvilWillow was the first poster to "talk" to me. One of my earliest posts was to ask what "Googling" meant (Alta Vista being the only search engine I knew).

Over the years I crossed metaphorical swords with worthy opponents (Hyuey of the ridiculous spelling; I never could remember what combination of "u"s, "y"s and "e"s to search under), utter wankers (PatLogan; an opinion on everything and knowledge of nothing), eccentric geniuses (Coshipi; who created an alternative persona which fooled everyone and then wrote a book about it - The Reminiscences of Penny Lane by Clive Semmens), thoroughly decent coves (JohnKnoxLives; churchman, Caley Thistle fan and pie aficionado), bizarre fantasists (BYFSeagulls; football casual or bored schoolboy, you decide), soulmates (uberpedant, with a gig attendance history to die for) and dozens upon dozens of good eggs (Kerebus, DirtyOrigamist, Tolstoy, BoogieBabe, Snazz, Moog & Princess, Policywatcher, Myrtletree, Jani, Culder, the late SueGeeGee and too many more to mention).

TommyDGNR8 was banned after an ill-advised comment about the reason for Sir Alex Ferguson's red nose but a "new" poster called SizeOfAnElephant mysteriously appeared and carried on discussions in his place. That is until mods' pet Rory grassed him up . A similar fate awaited CareCaseInAPaperHat, but TheScotsman (the diarist at that paper stole many of his stories from the football thread over the years) lasted until the (very) bitter end.

Our little community saw births, marriages and deaths; a genuine microcosm of the real world. The planet changed; 9/11 brought an influx of mad American republicans; the NewLabour dream turned sour; every twist, every turn was reflected in and filtered through GUT.

X-Factor was more fun when dissected online; Albion Rovers talk was as welcome if not moreso than Manchester United drivel; the regulars in the IT folder could solve just about any computer problem; there was always some trivia or nonsense to while away a dull half hour.

People suffering from depression, teetering on the edge of nervous breakdown, struggling with drink or drugs problems or coming to terms with bereavement; all were there, all were helped.

And at 5.30pm on Friday the 25th of February 2011, they turned it off.

Within hours, the Wikipedia entry for Guardian Unlimited carried a memorial;

In February 2011 The Guardian closed down their talkboards which had been online for over a decade. This was viewed as worse than a thousand Hitlers and widely regarded as being the internet equivalent of what Thatcher did to mining communities in the eighties.
It was also the view of most that The Guardian, in closing down the talkboard without warning or consultation, were a bunch of gritpypes.

That sums up the GUT spirit better than I ever could.

Within days, it had been removed, which probably says more about The Guardian.

Their paper's fucking rotten, too.

Death Is Just A Heartbeat Away

2011-02-06T11:59:00.000-08:00

Robert William Gary Moore (4 April 1952 – 6 February 2011)

"Can you imagine having a Gary Moore poster on your wall? You might as well have a picture of a welder's bench."

It's easy to forget that the shambling wreck known as Ozzy Osbourne was, many years ago, entitled to say such things; a good looking lad in his day was young Ozzy.

I've never been a huge Ozzy fan, but I did have a Gary Moore poster. It was the promotional poster (you remember those big 6ft x 3ft ones they used to stick on any available surface?) for his We Want Moore! album, part of which was recorded on a freezing cold Valentine's night at the Glasgow Apollo.

Jim Robertson had just bought the Victims of the Future album after I'd played him the flop single Hold On To Love. We tossed a coin to decide whether to see Moore or Saxon. Biff and co remain one of the few bands I've never seen.

Much of Gary's career up until that point - and, consequently, a fair bit of that gig - had passed me by. I knew his Lizzy stuff and Parisienne Walkways but I left the Apollo that night knowing I had a new back catalogue to explore.

I was considerably more au fait with Gary's solo work by the time he returned to Glasgow, but the Apollo was history. The Run For Cover tour played the Barrowland and, in stark contrast to the previous one, was probably the sweatiest, bounciest, most memorable gig I've ever been to.

He was the reason I picked up a guitar. Knowing I couldn't do it like him was the reason I put it down again.

Another couple of hard rocking albums followed before Gary grew weary of the genre and drifted off into his first love, the blues.

In his later years, he distanced himself from the frenetic fretboard gymnastics I loved him for, but I harboured the hope that he might come back to us some day.

He won't.

Gary Moore died in his sleep while on holiday with his girlfriend. It's a rock'n'roll way to go, but he did it far too young.

Clearing the Backlog

2011-02-04T11:59:00.000-08:00

I've been sitting on a pile of half-hearted notes for weeks now.

I tried to clear my backlog at the start of the month, but my enthusiasm evaporated with the devastating news of Gary Moore's death and, for the first time in my life, I've been wrestling with writers' block ever since.

This weekend, though, this weekend I'm furious and it's helped blow off the cobwebs. Let's get you up to date.

We went to Rochdale (October 29th) to see the Jaggies at the Bar Mystique. When we got there, we found DB and the sound crew installing the PA in the pub downstairs, The Flying Horse. Turns out the staircase was too narrow to get the rig up so it was downstairs or nothing.

The pub wasn't a classic rock pub, the audience being more eight-pints-of-Stella-and-wotchoofookinlookinat? than we're accustomed to. The layout wasn't really live-act friendly, either; the guys being tucked away around a corner such that we could only actually see DB; not one we'd rush back to.

The following weekend saw us in the familiar and much more amenable surroundings of the Ashfield (November 6th); a good gig on the eve of my photoshoot with the band at Owen Towers where Alan's old workshop made an excellent setting for some new promo photos.

2010 was brought to a close with an appearance at Golcar's Junction One (December 5th), another rather-too-intimate venue which would be better suited to an acoustic set should the guys ever feel that way inclined.

Into the new year and Mark Steel (January 26th) started his 47-date "In Town" tour at the LBT. Two hours of solid laughs in which the 20 minutes or so of bespoke material more than made up for the stuff already familiar from his books. Great stuff.

A couple of decent Jaggie gigs to get the new year off to a good start, too.

Ings Lane (January 29th) is a thank-god-for-Streetview venue; I'd never have found it if I hadn't recce'd with Google's stalker-cam beforehand! Good venue, too, if a bit too keen on bingo.

The Rock Cafe (February 3rd)? Well, it's the Rock Cafe, isn't it? Drunken women. I got dragged up to dance. It wasn't by Linda. We'll say no more.

Then the Moore news came through.

(Posted 27 February)

Davey's On the Road Again - Jagged Edge Summer 2010

2010-08-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

This, otherwise Jaggie-less, summer has been bookended by two outdoor shows.

The first, at Golcar Conservative Club (30 May) marked DB's return to the limelight (or, since it was a Sunday afternoon, daylight).

The car park of Golcar Tory club is about as un-rock'n'roll, as unglamorous a venue as you can imagine. Quite a feat given that it is (a) a car park (b) behind a Tory club in (c) Golcar; somehow, it still manages to underwhelm. They haven't even got the decency to have a picture of our new bum-faced overlord on display so I can recycle the Maggie joke which got me thrown out of the Airdrie and Coatbridge Conservative And Unionist Club in 1982*.

After 2009's no-show "barbeque summer", hopes are not high for this year's weather and we get a taste of what's to come when, about thirty seconds into Higher Place, the sun disappears behind the gathering clouds and leaves us shivering in the late spring winds.

She Don't Know Me is followed by old favourite (well it is for some people) Don't Want To Miss A Thing during which DB just about bursts. "Now I remember why we stopped doing that," he wheezes.

More than one voice inquires, "because you can't sing it?"

Ouch.

It's very much a feet-finding gig for Dave and the sun finally comes out for him again late in the afternoon; not soon enough to stop us freezing half to death, though.

My "Dann sounds even better outdoors" theory, though? Definitely holds up.

And so to the August Bank Holiday (28 August); "Outdoorfest" (how long did it take them to come up with that name? Ten seconds? Less? Did it sound catchy after 13 pints of Yorkshire Blonde?) at the Wills O'Nats. Guess what?

It's fucking freezing.

Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to hold a gig on the moors over Meltham? Even if the sun had been out and we were mid-drought, this was always going to be more windswept than interesting. The Wills O'Nats was specifically built to offer shelter to poor souls trying to cross the Hills. You wouldn't organise a barbeque at a bothy half-way up Ben Nevis, would you? Actually, whoever had this brainwave probably would.

We arrive in time to catch the last few songs from Sheffield's Top Gun. Singer Paul is marvellous and guitarist Mark is pretty damn good too. However, where the former looks like a rock star, the latter looks like an economics teacher (albeit an economics teacher with a Flying V). Musical highlight is an outstanding version of Boz Scaggs' Lido Shuffle, which is just the thing to get feet moving and hands clapping to ward off the cold. Sadly, the rest of their choices are a bit unimaginitive. They help me decide once and for all, though, that it's not the Jaggies' fault, it's just that Bed of Roses is an excruciatingly dull song. I'm shivering.

Good to have a word with Bob Wider who's come along to watch, but - doctor's orders or no - DB's back in front of his band.

He's found the Running Man jacket he last wore three or four years ago. It still looks camp.

Higher Place opens - DB's voice is better than he's sounded in a loooooong time.

By half-way through, my spine has started to contract in the cold.

No Miss A Thing mistake this time; we get...

At bloody last.

If DB had listened to me 5 years ago, Who's Crying Now? would, by now, have been a well-established highlight of the band's set. As it is, I doubt there's a better version of the song on the circuit; absolutely top-notch arrangement; excellent three-way vocals, note-perfect, faithful recital from Dann followed by an extended, improvised solo. It's a work of art, quite frankly, but hasn't Journey-fatigue set in in club land?

By now, my knees are starting to ache.

Thunder, then Dann excels as usual on Blue Collar Man. Big Dave blasts out Separate Ways.

The cold wins. We head for the car.

See you somewhere warm sometime soon, guys.

*Me(pointing to picture of the Wicked Witch of the West hanging behind the bar): I see you've found the right place for Maggie
Steward: How d'ye mean?
Me: Nailed to the fucking wall

Finally, the sun comes out on DB;

Jason Manford - LBT, May 2010

2010-05-17T11:59:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

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 and even Elf – 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).

Ronald James “Dio” Padovano 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

2010-05-08T11:59:00.000-07:00

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.

Jo Caulfield Won't Shut Up! - LBT, April 2010

2010-04-15T11:59:00.000-07:00

Where Were You Hiding When the Storm Broke?

One of those things in life which I’m resentful about for no good reason is the “where were you ...?” phenomenon.

You know what I mean – “where were you when Kennedy was shot?”, “where were you when man walked on the moon?” that kinda thing.

Part of the resentment comes from the former being before I was born and the latter being not long after I took my own first steps I suppose, but I think most of it comes from the rubbish events we’ve had since then and my rubbish responses to what little I’ve got to work with.

Where were you when Lennon was shot? In bed listening to Tiger Tim on Radio Clyde.

Where were you when Thatcher resigned? On the bus outside Huddersfield Job Centre (OK, that’s quite apt) listening to the story break on Radio 4.

Where were you when Diana died? Watching QVC.

Where were you on 9/11? Sitting in the car park of the sandwich shop near work as it unfolded over every radio station.

Where were you when the tsunami killed a quarter of a million? Tidying up after Christmas day and listening to 5Live.

You see a theme here? With occasional breaks for comic memorabilia sales on unfashionable TV channels, I’ve spent most of my life within earshot of a radio. Most of the big news stories have reached me that way; about the only exceptions I can think of being 7/7 (satellite telly in a hotel bar in Portugal) and Hillsborough (on multiple TV screens in the window of an electrical shop on Poole high street).

Our Jessica’s a different kettle of fish. She loathes the way radio insists on trying to sell her car insurance between bangin’ tunes; if anything separates her generation from mine, it’s patience.

So it came to pass that, on the day Europe’s airspace was closed for a week, Jessica’s first knowledge of the eruption of Iceland’s Eyjafjallajokull volcano came from a Jo Caulfield joke.

That, dear reader, is cool.

A good four or five years ago, BBC7 was broadcasting loads of stand-up routines in their comedy slot which I ripped from the web stream and loaded onto both my and Linda’s mp3 players for holiday listening. Beneath the Canary Island sun, we agreed that, by far the best (and the competition was pretty fierce; Nick Revell, Rhod Gilbert, Ardal O’Hanlon and the like), was a show from the Edinburgh fringe by a young lady named Jo Caulfield who immediately took a prominent spot on our “to see” list.

Events conspired to thwart us on our first attempts; Jo still hasn’t been forgiven for canceling her 2007 date in Huddersfield (which I whined about at the time if you want to go digging in the archives) then her Halifax show last year (which sounded great – nice and intimate) landed bang in the middle of my post-op recuperation when it hurt enough to breathe, let alone laugh.

So, you see, when our paths finally cross, Jo’s carrying a lot of our baggage. Will she disappoint?

Not for a moment.

Even allowing for the three comedians appearing on telly tonight (it’s the first ever British Prime Ministerial Debate) I’d’ve hoped for – make that expected - a few more locals to make the effort to see real talent. Jo’s a slick performer who clearly loves a live audience and deserves more than tonight’s 75% capacity.

Following, as it does, the standard agenda of introduction/tease the audience for a bit/deliver script, Jo’s show is never going to win any awards for revolutionary formatting, but the material is what matters and it’s top notch. From her wry observation of local mannerisms, through the well rehearsed meat of the performance proper, to milking the most she can out of some rather third rate heckling, she never misses a beat.

The feeling that she’s talking straight to you is hard to explain without sounding like a self-harming, virgin Smiths fan, but you probably get the idea; A Jo Caulfield show is like going to the pub for a blether with an old mate, drinking too much then spending the whole night inventing back-stories for everyone in the place.

Great stuff, and there always seems to be a little twist, doesn’t there? Plugging her new CD, Jo apologised for wearing the same blouse on the sleeve as she wore tonight. When we got home, Dave was (as usual) showing an old episode of Mock The Week. Guess who was on it? And guess what she was wearing?

Regeneration or evolution? Jagged Edge, Barnsley Trades, April 2010

2010-04-03T11:59:00.000-07:00

"I don't want to go."

David Tennant's incarnation of Dr Who signed off with those words a few months ago. Tonight, his successor, Matt Smith, assumed the mantle and made a decent fist of a thankless task. Tennant was a hard act to follow and only time will tell if Matt has the talent, the style and the je ne sais quoi to carry it off.

Closer to home, another well loved, well established act may be even harder to follow. Dave Bamforth has, under doctor's (no, not Matt Smith's) orders, relinquished the spotlight and Jagged Edge have a new frontman. As a fellow member of the zipper club I have to say GET WELL SOON, DB!

Bob Wider has previously worked with Bradford's Street Sleeper, a heavier band than the Jaggies who feature Metallica and Iron Maiden tracks in their repetoire, so he's not an obvious choice, but let's see...

We speak to the diminutive singer before the show. He's a quiet, unassuming wee soul but he's excited about the gig having thoroughly enjoyed his first "official" booking the night before; when he excuses himself to "go and put on my dancing pants", Dann's unusually reluctant to give us any clues about what to expect.

Whatever we get, there's standing room only at the Trades.

"Here's a song for ya..."

Bob borrows David Coverdale's traditional introduction as the band launch into Fool For Your Loving; interesting opener, definitely a heavier sound than when they've jammed it in the past and, yes, Bob can sing.

Foreigner's Feels Like The First Time is debuted and is all kinds of great then She Don't Know Me, Home Sweet Home and Love Walked In all showcase different aspects of Bob's vocal abilities.

Blue Collar Man sounds as good as ever and, where Wayward Son has been subtly modified so that it's more faithful to the original, Comfortably Numb has been completely rearranged to let Bob deliver a Roger Waters-style solo vocal rather than the harmonised version we've become accustomed to.

Actually, Wayward Son highlights my only complaint about Bob's vocals; he needs to learn to drop into harmony lines rather than maintaining his lead volume over the top of them.

Dann, as always, owns the place as he solos the first half to a close.

The second half opens with a new Bon Jovi number - Lay Your Hands On Me will be a crowd pleaser, but I don't rate it; personally, I'd rather have In and Out of Love or old favourite Runaway.

Among trusty stalwarts like Sweet Child O'Mine and (dragged into mid-set) Rock'n'Roll, we get a few Journey numbers; Big Dave retains vocal duties for Separate Ways, but Bob has relieved Dann of both Be Good To Yourself and Don't Stop Believing; watching Dann remembering not to sing was one of the more amusing sights of the night.

Whitesnake's Don't Break My Heart Again is the final new song of the night; I've never been a big 'Snake fan - a bit too blues-y for my taste - but it's an inoffensive choice and, obviously, it's bloody well played.

Don't Stop Believing actually finds itself stuck in the nominal "last number of the night" slot where, in light of its recent over-exposure, it doesn't really have the impact it once would.

Dann's solo doesn't need reviewing, but I miss the segue into Rock'n'Roll.

Bob (I originally mistyped that as "Bon", hmmm...) replaces Big Dave on ...Rosie and, for the first time, something jars.

Living On A Prayer opens the way Desmond Child originally intended - as a tender, acoustic number - before bringing the night to a rocking climax.

No ...Bad Name? Really? Didn't see that coming...

A difficult show for the guys to play, a difficult show for me to review, but in the cold light of day, how was it?

WHAT I LIKED: Feels Like The First Time (a lot); the re-works of Wayward Son, Comfortably Numb and Living on a Prayer were great; the absence of Wanted was welcome (my heart sank when the hat appeared at the end); Bob has terrific stage presence.

WHAT I WAS INDIFFERENT TO: both Lay Your Hands On Me and Don't Break My Heart Again. I can see both songs catching on, though.

WHAT I'D CHANGE: Ooooh - sorry, even ignoring my prejudice, I don't think Whitesnake's a good opener - give us something bouncy with harmonies. And Rosie... Bob's vocal may be more authentic, but Big Dave's is just better; give the big man his song back!

Just for a change - a little bit of politics.

2010-03-23T11:59:00.000-07:00

Since the banking crisis made it obvious that mainstream politics is run for the sole benefit of big business and that they weren’t even going to pretend otherwise anymore, I’ve been putting some thought into what I’d actually like from my “representative”.

I don’t claim to have all the answers but that’s not my job. I’m only commenting; asking questions and offering opinions. Here are some of the ideas which have occurred to me over the last 12 months or so posting on assorted news boards.

This is blue-sky thinking; I think everything on this list is “do-able”; I don’t think it would break any international law or breach any treaties (with one possible exception which is the one that’ll send the HateMail demographic ballistic anyway). I’ve largely left foreign policy alone; global issues need global solutions and I don’t want to bog everything down with Israel/Palestine or the ECHR.

Every action has a consequence; every right has a responsibility. You have the right to do anything you like as long as it does not adversely impact someone else. I remind the reader that lowering the voting age to 18, all-day pub opening and pet passports were all originally proposed by the Monster Raving Loonies (who also, incidentally, proposed scrapping MPs’ expenses and “letting the poor waste them instead” five years ago).

I present The Degenerate Manifesto - who dares offer it?

in perpetuum

Jagged Edge - East Dene (May), Waterloo (June), Rock Cafe (Feb)

2010-02-04T11:59:00.000-08:00

A bit of a mish-mash of unpublished comments;

We collared DB at Deighton to petition (again!) for Who's Crying Now. At East Dene (31 May 2009), we got some idea of what he meant when he said he didn't want to become just a Journey covers band.

Higher Place, Faithfully, Separate Ways, Anyway you Want It, Don't Stop Believing, Be Good To Yourself, Lights, Stone in Love.

That's quite a set by anyone's standards and with the usual Bon Jovi, GnR, Floyd and what have you, it made for a thoroughly enjoyable night.

Where that was fun, the next week's show at Waterloo had a real sense (for me at least) of occasion; a true alpha to omega event.

You'll recall my first encounter with Jagged Edge was when the then soon-to-be-Lady-DGNR8 dragged me along to a Sunday afternoon show at the bowling club; it seems appropriate that this chapter should close at the same venue.

Higher Place is cut short by the Waterloo's infernal volume limiter but DB leans on his electrical background to "overcome" that problem and the boys keep it hard, tight and loud through the show.

Well, until half-way through It's My Life when the kitchen circuits (for that, gentle reader, is where the juice is being pulled from) are overloaded by someone putting the kettle on.

I really want it to have been Polly.

Here's an exclusive picture of Ozzy's audition for DB's role. He didn't get the job after failing to outdrink Big Dave.

Time passes. Tick. Tick. Tick.

What’s that noise? I’ve got a new bit; it ticks with the regularity of Alan’s drums.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Things have changed.

Six months ago, Don’t Stop Believin' was my song. Journey was my band. Had been since 1983 when my schoolmate Jim Robertson came back from a visit to the States with copies of Escape and Frontiers.

Wow.

Sure, I shared them with a few of you, but it didn’t stop them being mine.

When last we spoke, all 99% of the British population knew about Journey was Don’t Stop Believin’. Half of them didn’t even know who it was by; it was just that awesome song from the end of The Sopranos. That’s probably where Simon Cowell and Cheryl Cole heard it, anyway. They gave it to the little Geordie with the crooked teeth and the axe-murderer’s smile. He sang it on The X-Factor and it was obvious from that moment that he was going to win.

It’s not like Simon to miss an opportunity, but he took his eye off the ball; Joe’s attempt at the Christmas number one wasn’t the song we all expected; they gave him a Smiley Virus number instead. The rest is history; Rage Against the Machine got the Christmas number one.

Poor Joe.

Journey finally got UK chart success a quarter of a century after it was deserved and a cover – by the Kids from Fa... the Cast of Glee – meant that Don’t Stop... was a top ten hit twice, at the same time.

Suddenly, Don’t Stop Believin' is everybody’s song. Journey is everybody’s band. I don’t suppose Steve Perry or Neal Schon is complaining and I’m pleased to have been proved right (again), but I feel as if I’ve lost something.

Things have changed in Jaggie Land as well. Finally, ...Miss a Thing has gone, to be replaced by Home Sweet Home. Bowling For Soup asked it and no-one answered, so I’ll ask again; when did Motley Crue become classic rock?

Certainly not in 1986...

Some things never change, though; the Rock Cafe sound was woeful and the women there can’t hold their drink.

Wha' choo talkin' about, Lewis?

2009-12-24T12:00:00.000-08:00

"Your reviews are scattered everywhere - some of them have already gone missing, it's about time you got them gathered in one place"

So says the wife. I think I agree with her.

Any Spare Keys - My Hospital Experience - July

2009-07-31T11:59:00.000-07:00

I got bored reformatting this, so you'll just have to download the pdf!

http://www.mediafire.com/?snmgcnsbynd

Jagged Edge - Southey +2 - May 2009

2009-05-07T11:59:00.000-07:00

Jagged Edge - Barnsley Trades - April 2009

2009-04-11T11:59:00.000-07:00

Jagged Edge - Ashfield - March 2009

2009-03-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

Bad start – I've left the memory card in the computer at home, so I'm limited to a handful of photos for the whole night. This is particularly annoying as the venue – Ashfield WMC – is packed full of people who seem to be in the mood. Ah well...

Our first surprise of the night is a NEW SONG! Bon Jovi's She Don't Know Me (one of their very best, it has to be said) is slotted into the number two position. Now, far be it from me to quibble, but Runaway is miles better than Wanted so I reckon the wrong track's been dropped. Just saying, is all...

The rest of the first set is fairly standard stuff, but the sound is absolutely top-notch so it's a particularly pleasing show.

Second half sees Stone Cold being tried out in a different environment. The empty dancefloor probably consigns it to the “could've been a contender” bin, I fear.

The set is very Journey-heavy with the Be Good To Yourself/Anyway You Want It pairing getting an airing alongside Don't Stop Believing and Separate Ways - the latter demonstrating that Big Dave is in better voice than ever.

The Bon Jovi singalong, Dann's solo and Big Dave's Zeppelin/DC numbers are followed by not one but three well deserved encores including Girl Can't Help It and Time.

The great sound (loud, but not ear-ringingly so) give us a chance to properly assess the new Floyd number – it's a winner – maybe even worth trying out in the Comfortably Numb slot in the right venues?

Good venue, great crowd, top performance.

Jagged Edge - Jesters - February 2009

2009-02-28T11:59:00.000-08:00

I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I got a sat-nav for my birthday, so no more poring over maps and plotting routes in advance only to take a wrong turn 10 yards from the venue (see Colley WMC and countless other accounts).

Well, that's the theory; in the words of John Wetton, only time will tell, but what it definitely has done is introduced us to numerous roads which, I'm sure, are unused in decades. The TomTom seems to have some sort of algorithm built in which gives priority to single-track, unlit, twisting, turning cart tracks over such modern nonsense as, say, motorways. So it was that we emerged from a rarely visited and seemingly uncharted forest on the outskirts of Pontefract and found ourselves at the former Ackworth Moortop Club, (relatively) recently rebranded as Jester's Entertainment Bar.

The make-over artist is clearly of similar age to your reviewer because, once inside, you could be in any of the clubs where I used to bop to Frankie Goes to Hollywood or Aztec Camera (oh yes!) The eighties influence is inescapable and I was feeling quite at home.

Then Alan reported his conversation at the door:
“You'd better be good or we'll glass ya!”

It's an interesting approach to geeing up the turn, isn't it? From girls, too. Maybe they were on a trip from Hartlepool?*

It's a young crowd and the set is tailored suitably; I'd call it commercial, DB says it's cheesy. You know the drill by now – all the charty stuff and we don't get Dann's solo slot.

A couple of guests – a bloke on bass and another lass who gets to shake DB's tambourine (I should rephrase that, shouldn't I?) I don't know if a glassing was threatened if he'd refused, but it wouldn't surprise me.

Interesting gig, and no blood spilled, so I guess the patrons were satisfied.

*Utterly unfair, of course. The King Ozzy might look like 1970s Belfast, but we've never felt remotely threatened. Apart from by the bingo caller.

Jagged Edge - Bellhouse WMC - February 2009

2009-02-14T11:59:00.000-08:00

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

It seems barely possible, but with various illnesses, Christmas breaks and just bad booking (bloody Cleethorpes, I ask you!) it is fully FOUR MONTHS since we last saw the boys. The last time that happened was way back in 2006 - before their internet presence made stalking sooooo much easier!

Anyway, what's changed? Well, not the opening to the set, for a start - Higher Place/Runaway/...Miss a Thing/Love Walked In/Wanted - the familiar numbers greet us like old friends but then - gatecrasher!

It's about time we had some Rainbow in the set. Stone Cold wouldn't have been my first choice but it fits well with the other American-sounding (and genuinely American) stuff in the first set. I'm holding out for Big Dave singing Long Live Rock'n'Roll, though! Oh, the big man assuming the role of musical director - counting and cueing his bandmates through the new number - is an entertaining (and informative) sideshow!

Informative, oh yes. I never thought I'd be able to crowbar work into one of these reviews, but this is the structure of the compound disodium 6-hydroxy-5-[(4-sulphophenyl)azo]-2-naphthalenesulphononate.

That's a bit of a mouthful and we chemists are idle buggers, so it is commonly known as "sunset yellow" food colouring or E110. It can cause hyperactivity in children who consume it so, obviously, it is widely used in stuff like soft drinks and sweets. The sort of stuff kids never touch, y'know?

They must've gone through an awful lot of orange juice on Saturday.

Up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down.

Pause. Breathe. Check mum hasn't abandoned you (who's that man and why is he trying to eat her face?). Have a drink of orange (gotta keep those chemical levels up, don't wanna come down before supper time). Resume.

Up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down.

It says more than I ever could for Dann's Comfortably Numb solo that even the eight-year-olds stand in silence.

We're into the break and I realise my ears are ringing - no volume limiters here! Fortunately, this means that the bingo caller is little more than a background buzz. It seems they like their bingo here as much as they do in Hartlepool. It's a looooong interval! We win the twenty quid mini tote, though.

Back onstage, the rhythm section (Alan is hidden away out of the lights tonight) tease us with Dancing in the Moonlight. It has got to surface in the set one of these days!

Along with all the usual dance floor fillers, we get the always-welcome Wayward Son in the second half then Dann (who has been unusually animated throughout the night) turns in a blinding solo spot.

Big Dave is relieved of his AC/DC duties by a local lad (didn't catch the name) but delivers (as always) on Rock'n'Roll before the band is called back by the big, appreciative crowd for not one but two encores.

And so in Pink Floyd's Time, we are treated to the second new track of the night. By the close, DB's looking rather pleased with himself. He's probably entitled to, but I'll reserve judgement until I've heard it at more conservative volume.

Good gig. Best not leave it so long till the next one, though.

DB's best Tina Turner impression

Alan, out of the limelight

Dave, trying to see through the rather excessive fog

Big Dave practicing looking sincere

Ross Halfin made millions taking photos like this, y'know

Big Dave's got his hair back

Someone tell Snow White we've found the missing dwarfs

Remember Bros? These ones have better hair

Russell Howard - Bradford - November 2008

2008-11-29T11:59:00.000-08:00

"I am NOT sitting there!"

When her boyfriend presented her with tickets for row D, she was probably a bit reticent; that's a bit close to the front for a comedy gig; definitely within range of the man on stage.

When she got there and discovered that St George's Hall didn't have a row A, B, or C, she freaked. Needless to say, the stewardess didn't take long to find another couple; more safely located; who were only too willing to swap.

The 40 or so student types between us (we're on row J and, yes, I had a seating plan when booking) and the action (they looked like they were on a class trip) grumbled.

It's just as well the rest of the seventy-seven THOUSAND people who have bought seats on this tour weren't all as troublesome.

Seventy seven thousand.

When I booked our tickets about six months ago, this was one of a dozen or so shows being advertised on Russell's MySpace. Now it's one of over 50 essentially sold-out gigs including one at the Wembley Arena.

I think it's fair to say that Russell's ship has come in this year.

We weren't anticipating a warm-up act and, in fairness, Steve Hall realised that. His poundshop David Baddiel routine, basically a series of amusing situations featuring his dad, went down well enough, though. It wasn't until afterwards that I discovered that he's one of the contributors to the sometimes-hysterical We Are Klang, so I'm putting this down as a disappointment.

Not so the main man.

Russell bounded onstage just like he does when he knows he's got a winning line for the performance area on Mock the Week. Then he talked. And he talked and he talked and he talked. And we laughed and we laughed and we laughed and the world was, for an hour and a half, a much, much better place.

The highlights were, of course, the unscripted bits; the impromptu debate between members of the audience about the relative merits of pies and pasties with Russell playing Jeremy Paxman will live long in the memory.

But not as long as the shoe incident. He probably thought it a bit odd when someone asked if he'd sign his shoe, but Russell continued with his performance and had probably forgotten all about it when, 15 or so minutes later, a Nike Air Jordan flew past his head and crashed into the wings.

If the momentary look of terror on his face as his brain raced to process what had just happened was worth the entrance, his vengeance was priceless.

Having asked the young man to come down from the balcony, Russell brought support act Steve back onstage and invited him to indulge in some, shall we say intimate behaviour with the trainer.

Needless to say, the would-be Iraqi journalist(*) wasn't too keen on recovering his footwear and it's probably just as well because Steve suffered what the tabloids call a wardrobe malfunction on removing said shoe from his underpants.

Just in case there had been any doubt about his religion.

I sincerely hope that guy didn't have athletes' foot.

Amazing show; narrowly pipping Frankie and Jimmy to join Andy Parsons as my joint favourite comedy show of the year. Actually, no; give Russell the title exclusively just on account of the lack of recycled material.

We even managed to get out of the carpark before midnight.

(*) George Bush had shoes thrown at him by an Iraqi journalist during his "farewell tour" of the middle east just a couple of weeks after this gig; http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7783325.stm

Vampires Rock - Blackpool - November 2008

2008-11-15T11:59:00.000-08:00

In The Court of the Crimson Queen

My clubbing days were over before rave took off. Blimey, does that age me or what? We used to get hi-energi and a bit of electronica; it wasn't total shite, but, in honesty, I never really "got" it.

Club Live and Let Die is, of course, not your run-of-the-mill two-Bacardi-Breezers-and-a-quickie-in-the-carpark meatmarket but our second visit in just twelve months is, you've probably guessed, the girls' idea.

Tracie and Dann are at the restaurant before us (again!) and there's a brief panic about parking penalties before we dine but the highlight of the preliminaries is the slightly tipsy bloke who's bought the object of his desire three presents; a woolly hat, a stick of rock and a pair of furry handcuffs.

"Are you a Goth?" he asks Linda.

To which I suppose the answer is, "Tonight, Matthew, yes. Yes I am."

This year's Vampires Rock is different enough to last year's to merit a fresh write-up, but I want to compare and contrast so you'll have to piece it together for yourself.

The three lead roles are still filled by Steve Steinman (von Rockula), Emiley Clark (Pandora) and Mike Taylor (Stringfellow) but the cast is now augmented by Toyah Wilcox as the Devil Queen.

What has the addition of an extra character done to the narrative? Buggered it up completely, that's what. The "old" story was unimaginative and simple, but at least it flowed; with the addition of a wife on the sidelines, the Baron's seduction of poor Pandora becomes needlessly complicated.

The song introductions are clunky; each title being the "punchline" to a pretty obvious build-up. The set list has been juggled just enough to freshen the show (a decent Hell's Bells replacing If You Want Blood; Stringfellow's Queen numbers, the highlight of the show; Steinman and Toyah making a decent fist of the otherwise utterly execrable Changes; the bizarre inclusion of People Are Strange which just doesn't fit; a couple of songs which, to my shame, I didn't know - maybe they were Toyah songs because It's A Mystery and Thunder in the Mountains were conspicuous by their absence).

Ah, Toyah. She's aged well, has that one. That'll be the clean living, godly lifestyle she's been following for the last 20-odd years, I suppose. Looking good and hitting all the right notes - especially on Sweet Child o'Mine which suited her voice perfectly. She also cracked an "X-Factor reject" joke which would have been soooo much funnier if she'd made it "Stars In Their Eyes".

The sound was poor, it has to be said; the vocals were turned up way too high which caused distortion (which in turn accentuated the diction problems of both Steinman and Clark). It was particularly noticeable on last year's highlight, Total Eclipse of the Heart which was drunken karaoke standard this time around.

The band was solid; Jordan Bracewell filled the rather large boots of Eddie Ojeda but seemed to be on a short lead; not allowed to rock out too much so whether he's a Fripp (or a Rosingana, for that matter) we know not.

The everyone-on-your-feet-and-sing-along encore showed La Wilcox's influence again with the inclusion of God Gave Rock'n'Roll to You. This was introduced by way of a lengthy diatribe by Steinman telling off his audience for cheering the show's demonic references.

You need to keep your guest star sweet, Steve; we don't... At the altar of rock and roll we kneel.

Oh, and Blackpool had shut for the season when we got out. Two thousand rockers looking for a pint or five and they shut the Winter Gardens bars? What genius is in charge there?

David Cassidy - SECC - November 2008

2008-11-14T11:59:00.000-08:00

"Over'rer, hen, in the armadillo"
"How dae you know wherr we waaant tae be?"
"Audience profilin' doll, audience profilin'."

Two women of a certain age are redirected away from the hall where Paul Weller is to play to a collection of soul boys and grown-up mods. We only know it's the Modfather because the audience-profiler-come-bouncer didn't stop us and we'd reached the merchandising stalls before realising we were at the wrong gig. This has me thinking that my new Henry Winkler-style satin bomber jacket isn’t as cutting-edge as I’d imagined.

I watched them build the SECC. It was a big, red box the last time I saw it, but that's changed. Sometime between me leaving home and now, they painted it grey and Norman Foster (see the account of our visit to Wembley) built the armadillo or "Clyde Auditorium" to give it its official title. This is my first time in it. It's rather nice; solid, in a corporate conference kind of way; I can see John Harvey Jones, Richard Branson or Alan Sugar addressing massed ranks of blokes in suits (actually, scratch JHJ, what with him being dead and all).

Surprisingly, it doesn't seem to be a sell-out; the credit crunch having an effect on sales, perhaps? With the falling pound, tours by American artists will only become more expensive (if they happen at all); I wonder how many will regret missing this one in years to come?

Those who are here have come from far and wide; there's an Italian girl beside us who has friends scattered throughout the hall in odd seats. Why they didn't get seats together, we'll never know.

The lights go down and Glasgow demonstrates that the Apollo spirit never died. Seats are abandoned and if half of the audience isn't crushed against the stage, reaching for their hero, then it isn't far short. The Apollo bouncers used to drag out a token fan or two for a beating, but they were only dealing with punks, rockers or mods; not menopausal women. No-one even thinks of trying to stop them.

"It's unbelievable" are David Cassidy's first spoken words a couple of songs into the set. The crowd screams as they are acknowledged, but Cassidy goes on, "unbelievable how quickly a guitar can go out of tune in my hands!"

A laugh and the bond between stage and floor is made. I've said it before and tonight merely confirms it; Cassidy, former teen idol, is the consummate showman. At no time is it better illustrated than when he launches into his obligatory Lennon/McCartney number. This time, it's You've Got to Hide Your Love Away which David makes a singalong. Not, as you'd expect, with roof-raising "Hey"s, though; tonight, conducted by the puppetmaster in the spotlight, Glasgow whispers the Beatles song in perfect harmony.

The quiet theme is continued by a somewhat unlikely cover; an only-slightly-lighter-than-Deep-Purple's arrangement of Hush. Arrangements are a bit of a theme, actually - we get "Dance Party" versions of two staples; I'll Meet You Halfway is OK, but Cherish doesn't need funking up.

David swaps places with his drummer and she delivers a fairly decent rendition of Brass In Pocket, but the night is really all about what the fans want to hear, as determined by an online vote.

Some Kind Of A Summer tops the poll (in no small part thanks to my own vote, I like to think) and the only curve ball is Mae which David plays acoustically, unaccompanied, authentically struggling with the chord changes since he hasn't played it in anger in years.

The lights go up, the amps go off and I get my wife back; back from her trip down memory lane; she's spent the last two hours, as she always does in the presence of her hero, 35 years ago. I'm pleased to say that, since tomorrow is our sixth anniversary, she never looks too disappointed when the 21st century reclaims her.

Frankie Boyle - Bradford - November 2008

2008-11-08T11:59:00.000-08:00

AC/DC. Whitesnake. Iron Maiden.

Those are three tour t-shirts I once owned which, alongside the mighty Glasgow Apollo, featured impossibly exotic venues like Leicester's De Montford Hall, The Hammersmith Odeon, the Royal Concert Hall at Nottingham and tonight's auditorium; St George's Hall, Bradford.

Blimey.

When I were a lad, I thought the Appalling (as it was known locally) was what concert halls were like. In reality, it was a 1920s cinema (the biggest in the country - it sat four thousand customers) converted for concert use, but the Glasgow audience earned it the reputation of the greatest gig in the world - AC/DC, Rush, Quo, Gary Moore all chose it to record their live albums.

Oh lordy (or, indeed, Lordi); what would we have done in a place like St George's Hall? What must it have been like to see Maiden in their 80s prime at a wonderful, compact, standing venue?

I never thought I'd say it, but I'm a bit jealous.

Someone else who must've visited the Apollo once or twice is following in the footsteps of Rock's elite tonight and, just as they probably did for the World Piece Tour, the "Sold Out" signs are on the doors as we approach the 150-year-old venue. At the Apollo, he'd have been awarded a "Sold Right Out" golden statuette; I suspect Frankie Boyle, unlike Johnny Cash who famously left his in the dressing room bin, would have treasured such a trophy.

Warm-up act Martin Bigpig is a revelation; a big, loud, bearded bloke from Norn Iron who reminds me of Billy Connolly in his younger days - a very enthusiastic, very offensive, very funny guy who sets the bar (and the cursemeter) at just the right height for the headliner. His handling of the would-be gatecrasher and the ineffectual bouncer was absolutely fantastic.

Regular readers will know that I've been lucky enough to catch several of my favourite comedians over the last couple of years. Tonight is the first time, though, that I've actually been nervous to the point of fear before a show. Frankie gets away with murder on Mock The Week; just what is he going to be like without censorship?

We soon find out as Shannon Matthews and the sainted Madeleine (or rather, the two girls' families) become the focus of prolonged, uncomfortable but, yes, hilarious attacks.

The "C" word is bandied about with such abandon that it loses its shock value but it is the material between the deliberately offensive punctuation where Frankie demonstrates his talent as a wordsmith and raconteur.

Quite simply, the guy is one of the funniest ****s you'll ever see.

There's some familiar stuff from Mock The Week, but most of the material (maybe 75%?) is fresh (or at least unfamiliar - some of the "topical" subjects are starting to get a bit mouldy - the Josef Fritzl stuff, for example).

Audience participation is good though he didn't have much to work with. Complaints? An hour and a quarter is a bit short, no encore is a bit poor and that NCP carpark took forever (well, about 45 minutes) to get out of.

A good night.

Jimmy Carr - Halifax - October 2008

2008-10-06T11:59:00.000-07:00

The only entertainers I've previously heard described as "technicians" are drummers, so it is somewhat appropriate that Jimmy Carr's latest 240bpm stage show is titled Joke Technician.

It seems a strange thing to say but, in a comedy sea of meandering observational comics and satirists, Carr's one- and two-liners are a breath of fresh air; set 'em up, knock 'em down jokes which you can repeat in the pub after half a dozen Stellas. If you dare.

He's been compared to the late, great Bob Monkhouse but I'd offer a, perhaps, slightly less eminent comparator. Carr, in the spirit of "The Comedians", is a latter day Frank Carson; it's the way he tells 'em.

Oh, and tell 'em he does. Nothing longer than 10 seconds or so; joke-laugh-joke-laugh-lather-rinse-repeat. Some material hits the spot, some hits a nerve; anything that misses is quickly forgotten as another line, then another, then another hit home.

Props are minimal - a Powerpoint presentation, an (unused in this performance) piano and a few clipboards.

Material is fresh (a few old favourite lines thrown in, but largely new) and topical (a show in Halifax in the current financial climate? An opportunity not to be missed).

Hecklers are dealt with stylishly or dismissively, depending on the quality of the heckling (the acknowledgement of the "caravanning" woman was a nice touch, the interaction with the HBoS IT guy was great. Why is there always an IT guy on the front row?)

A great crowd (well done, Halifax) and a performer feeding off them made for an excellent show - Carr even hosted a line-up (oo-er, missus!) in the Foyer afterwards, signing programmes, tickets and (probably) body parts for anyone who cared to wait.

He might still have the most punchable face in British comedy, but there's a thoroughly good bloke behind it.

I wonder why he had a picture of Johnny Vaughan on his posters, though?

Jagged Edge - Colley WMC - October 2008

2008-10-03T11:59:00.000-07:00

Once again, my mental sat-nav got us to within yards of a venue then got us lost; this happens alarmingly often - I can get you to within half a mile of just about anywhere in the country you care to name, but don't ask me to find the hotel/pub/theatre. Usually, it's no big deal but tonight the band were closing Runaway when we arrived.

A cracking venue, Colley WMC; big and symmetrical with lovely woodwork which looks as if it's probably recycled from a previous premises. It's also the only club I've ever been in with a dedicated, cordoned off and signposted "Standing" area. I smell health and safety...

Standing at the bar I hear a tsst-tsst-tsst sound similar to that hiss you used to get when you played records quietly with the turntable lid up. Stage centre, though, the sound is great; despite (or possibly because of?) being limited by a Waterloo-style decibel meter.

First highlight of the night is Blue Collar Man. Dann's in terrific voice - best I've heard him sing, I think. The song gets a fantastic reception from the sizeable crowd, most of whom I'm guessing haven't heard it before (this being the first time the boys have played here).

An excellent Take it on the Run follows, then Comfortably Numb seems to come around much sooner than normal (missing a couple of songs really does shorten the set) and is spellbinding enough to stop the two blokes behind me discussing their sex lives for five minutes.

Oh joy... an hour of bingo. Ah well, it gives us time to catch up on gossip.

The dancefloor is filled for the second half. I've been disappointed by the number and standard of mad dancers this year - one bloke tonight looks like he should be auditing the local high school, but whither the sunburnt teletubbies and leprechauns of yore?

(Love is Like) Oxygen gets an airing and the well-deserved second encore is Is This Love? but the highlight of the second act is Big Dave being outscreamed on ...Rosie. I don't think he needs to worry about being replaced, somehow.

Dave'n'Dave

Dave'n'Alan

Dave'n'Dave

Dave'n'Dann

Dave'n'Dann

Anything you can scream...

Let's Dance

Dann: So then I wiggle my finger here and it goes peeee-ooow
Dave: Cor! That's clever!
Dave: [mutter, mutter] I showed him how to do that [mutter, mutter]

Jagged Edge - Rochdale Transport Club - August 2008

2008-08-29T11:59:00.000-07:00

Best laid plans and all that... Seems that Blackpool's Whitefire have called it a day before I got the chance to see them.

Anyway, just a few brief comments because this was simply a thoroughly enjoyable show by a bunch of lads who looked to be ready for the well-deserved break they are now taking.

A considerably bigger crowd for this, our second, visit to Rochdale Transport Club. Bigger crowd and smaller PA (this is becoming a theme this summer) which gave a great sound in the oddly-shaped room.

The first set followed the customary playlist; highlights were Blue Collar Man, Every Rose Has Its Thorn (with local boy Carl guesting again) and Comfortably Numb.

The second set kept the dancefloor rocking, with all the usual G'n'R, Bon Jovi, etc being augmented by Whitesnake (...Love Tonight) and Van Halen. Now, the Transport Club building is probably close to a hundred years old and it was probably built to withstand some serious abuse, but some of those Rochdale lads'n'lasses really shouldn't have been encouraged to Jump.

Big Dave (who'd been even more animated than usual throughout) brought normal proceedings to a close in his own inimitable manner then we were treated to (the always welcome) Girl Can't Help It as a bonus.

Enjoy the sabbatical, guys - you've earned it.

This is the voice of the Mysterons...

Who ya gonna call...?

Jagged Edge - Riffs, Blackpool - August 2008

2008-08-09T11:59:00.000-07:00

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;

Jagged Edge - Rock Cafe - July 2008

2008-07-17T11:59:00.000-07:00

I think it's fairly well documented that the Rock Cafe isn't my favourite venue, but our most recent visit started promisingly with a much-reduced PA; maybe it wouldn't be as ear-splittingly loud as usual.

DB's tired, Dann's voice is in doubt; there must be a good case for the band to take a proper break – it's only rock'n'roll, after all.

Our understanding of DB's psyche; as revealed by his iPod; was furthered in an interesting direction. MSG followed by Gary Numan? Kiss by Leif Garrett???

Remembering the 70s disco heart-throb knocked me right off kilter, I must admit, but it turns out he's lived the regular fallen star lifestyle and is a hopeless junkie these days as this mugshot from his bust for heroin possession proves;

He's only forty-something, y'know. Drugs is baaaad, kids.

Anyway, the boys gave a knockout performance on Thursday; the Journey/Jovi/Aerosmith trio sounded fantastic and the first set included REO, Styx and Boston to scratch my AOR itch good and proper. The sound had deteriorated a bit by the time Comfortably Numb came around, but it was still an order of magnitude better than normal for the Cafe.

The sound was sorted out for the start of part two and the second set featured wee Jo on Sweet Child... and an unexpectedly loud guest on ...Bad Name. The highlight of the night, though, was big Dave's encore spot – the big man was rock'n'roll personified; a blistering performance.

Throw in Bed of Roses as a bonus and the night's easily the best we've had at the venue.

Loudest ever crowd participant;

At least one former teen heart-throb has aged a bit better than Leif;

Jagged Edge - Broad Oak - July 2008

2008-07-04T11:59:00.000-07:00

Independence day. America is, what, 232 years old this year? And still acting like a spoilt brat playground bully? They need to shift their fat arses along to a Jagged Edge gig or two; learn to relax. Maybe we could get Osama along, too; they could all have a beer together and debate whether Whitesnake counts as "heavy" or not.

I'm wandering again, aren't I?

Over the last few years I've missed a fair number of gigs because of prior commitments -
2005 Styx (away on business), Dio (performing Holy Diver in its entirety, no less - holiday)
2006 Journey (Augeri - holiday)
2007 Journey (JSS - business), Marcus Brigstocke at the LBT (holiday)

Last week takes some beating, though; Def Leppard. Whitesnake. Journey (Pineda).

What a week to fly to the Canaries.

Ah well; if I'd taken the punt on tickets for Saturday's Harewood House show we'd have missed it anyway thanks to flight delay; just need to make do with this outdoor event...

The Jaggies' last attempt at playing Broad Oak fell foul of the weather and it looked - as late as Thursday - like this one might go the same way. Thankfully, the God of Rock smiled upon his chosen ones and Linthwaite partied all night long.

The sound was a bit weedy in the first half with the vocal delay being lost to the slowly-darkening night sky, but that didn't detract from a set chosen to be recognisable to the large contingent of younger attendees. The assorted hoodies, ladettes and other "bangin' tunes" afficianados sang along with the ones they knew (Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, Thunder) and politely ignored the ones they didn't (pretty much everything else, including a fantastic rendition of More Than A Feeling).

Quote of the night came from a skinny, pasty-white, red haired lad in an England trackie top who spoke like Ali G (honestly, you couldn't make this stuff up); "That guitar guy's wicked, man".

The sound came together much better in the second set; Alex Mullen joined the band for a cracking run-through of Bad Company's Can't Get Enough, we had The Sweet, Journey, Guns'n'Roses and Bon Jovi before "that guitar guy" defied the plummeting temperature to deliver a stunning solo spot.

Adagio just sounds better in the open air, somehow.

The encores pushed the show right up to the midnight curfew. Great show.

For trailer trash.

Trailer trash.

Where's my crowd?

We're over heee-eere!

It's all gone a bit Eye of the Tiger

Listen closely and you can hear this photo

Alex'n'Dave

Tubthumpin'

Psychedelic

What does this button do?

Michael Bolton moment

Plugging the website. This guy's a closet Big Brother viewer, y'know...

Blue Oyster Cult - Holmfirth - June 2008

2008-06-12T11:59:00.000-07:00

The Picturedrome's a bit busier than for a Jaggies show which makes sense when we discover that there are people here from as far afield as Oxford.

One thing's for sure, they're not here to see support act Richard R Black - a three-piece who have been listening to too much Ufucking2; all single-note guitar solos and over-emoted vocals. Actually, that's not fair - RRB got a good reception from the crowd, I just can't imagine anyone travelling further than, say, next door to see them headline.

Change-over is quick and Holmfirth welcomes, well, the smallest band in the world. First onstage is a short, tubby bloke - a bit scruffy and carrying a rucksack. He doesn't really look like a suicide bomber, but this is Holmfirth so it's a relief when he sets himself up at the keyboards and we realise it's Richie Castellano.

He's joined by guest bassist Danny Miranda, drummer Jules Radino and the two "main men", Buck Dharma and Eric Bloom. Only Miranda seems to be taller than Monty (who's doing the lights). To be brutally honest, this doesn't look like a 14-million-selling rock band - it looks like their roadies.

Opener This Ain't the Summer of Love gets the crowd up and going and is followed by Cities on Flame With Rock and Roll, Stairway to the Stars, Career of Evil and a handful of tracks I'm not familiar with (actually, I was surprised at how many I did recognise, not being a "fan" per se).

I'm just getting into the groove and mentally filing Dharma away as the second best guitarist I've seen this year when he breaks out what is possibly the worst solo I've ever heard. I'm sure it's very clever, but making his guitar bleat like a lamb does nothing but excite the Marsden crowd for all the wrong reasons. Poor Buck, not only is his solo spot a bit shite, but he is then blown off stage by Castellano's performance of Buck's own song, Last Days of May.

Ain't camera phones rubbish?

Miranda is introduced to the crowd and we're told that he's off to play with Paul Rodgers and Queen later in the year. The resounding boos should really have tipped the band off that playing a quick Queen medley wasn't going to go down particularly well. "I can't believe you boo-ed me" whines Danny. Welcome to Holmfirth, mate.

Highlight of the set is, for me, Burning For You which is followed by the (as silly as I'd expected) Godzilla. Sadly, this hosts the rhythm section's solos which they don't even have the decency to play in the right order for my joke to work*. The queue for the Gents is huge.

I'm caught slightly off-guard as cowbells chime (well, clink) and (Don't Fear) The Reaper makes an appearance earlier than I'd anticipated.

The night drifts to an end with a few more songs I don't know; it's a gentle landing rather than going out on a high.

I have seen much, much worse, but it could've used more cowbell.

___oOo___

*This would have been so much funnier if Jules had played his solo first...

A scientific expedition disembarks from its plane at the final outpost of civilization in the deepest Amazon rain forest. They immediately notice the ceaseless thrumming of native drums. As they venture further into the bush, the drums never stop, day or night, for weeks.

The lead scientist asks one of the natives about this, and the native's only reply is "Drums good. Drums never stop. Very BAD if drums stop."

The drumming continues, night and day, until one night, six weeks into the trip, when the jungle is suddenly silent. Immediately the natives run screaming from their huts, covering their ears. The scientists grab one boy and demand "What is it? The drums have stopped!"

The terror-stricken youth replies "Yes! Drums stop! VERY BAD!"

The scientists ask "Why? Why? What will happen?"

Wild-eyed, the boy responds,

"...BASS SOLO!!!"

Jagged Edge - Old Tramshed, Shipley - May 2008

2008-05-26T11:59:00.000-07:00

doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof

The Tramshed is packed to the rafters on Bank Holiday Monday. The boys are playing their third show in as many nights (the Barrow posse having clocked up over 600 miles so far) and Alan's drumkit is very, VERY LOUD!

doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof

Seriously, I went to the loo during Faithfully and thought the place was coming down; the walls start shakin', the earth was quakin', my mind was achin'...

Well, the plumbing was rattling in sympathy anyway...

So, brief (sorry, I'm busy!) highlights of the night;

(i) BLUE COLLAR HEADBANGERS! During Blue Collar Man, there were a dozen or so people lining the staircase, heads nodding merrily. I've never seen anyone headbang to Styx; maybe time to add some Quo to the Tramshed set?

(ii) NEW SONG! No, not the Howard Jones track (though that was good - hey, I'm an eighties kinda guy!) - Whitesnake's Fool For You Loving. You'd guess Big Dave would take the vocal and you'd be right - bloody good it was too (I still want to hear him sing Still of the Night, though). Good choice, good interpretation; a future set fixture is born, I'm betting.

(iii) EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED! Y'know that pillar in the middle of the stage? It was fairly inevitable that someone, someday, would indulge in a bit of pole dancing, wasn't it? How come it was a BLOKE? And a bloke in a HAWAIIAN SHIRT at that? Only at a Jaggie show...

Oh yeah, the Blackpool squad were in town and wee Jo did her usual cracking job on Sweet Child...

On the whole, another good night out.

Did I mention that Alan's drums were very, VERY LOUD?

doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof - doof

Mr Tambourine Man

Lonely Boy, Lonely Guitar

Hey Jo(e)

Prince Charming (Ridicule is nothing to be scared of)

Invoking the Spirit of Jim Morrison

Jagged Edge - Eastwood View, Rotherham - May 2008

2008-05-17T11:59:00.000-07:00

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. - Sir John Lubbock

It's been a long time since they rocked and rolled and the boys look unusually keen to get on stage. Rain stopped play at Linthwaite (a fairly common occurrence, to be honest) so they've had their feet up for the best part of a month and, it has to be said, they look the better for it.

The venue (once we finally figure out how to get into the place) looks for all the world like someone's wallpapered over the wooden panelling in my old school assembly hall. There's a big, high stage and, OK, the bar's a bit incongruous, but the hall's big and boxy - the ideal layout for a great sound; so no pressure on the crew!

The setlist is a joy for the Journey lovers with the full repertoire (Higher Place, Faithfully, Any Way You Want It, Don't Stop Believing, Separate Ways, Be Good To Yourself and Girl Can't Help It) being aired between the usual Jovi, Aerosmith, Styx, Floyd, GnR, Free etc. Poison and Thunder fill the "sometimes" spots.

All is well in the world - DB's in fine voice for the ballads, Dann's pulling all sorts of foot-on-the-monitor poses, big Dave's sporting a grin the width of Rosie's celebrated rear, DS is boogie-ing away and Alan, even though we can't see him, sounds like he's having a ball.

Comfortably Numb illustrates just how good the sound is - the vocals (which can be a bit cluttered and muddy on occasion) are crystal clear and Dann's solo is a veritable wall of sound. Linda and Tracie claim there's a bum note in there somewhere but I reckon that means his hit rate is still something like seventeen-trillion-to-one.

Best moments? With a show like this there are so many to choose from. Blue Collar Man has, as predicted, become a show highlight; Faithfully (another song which can lose its impact when the sound isn't right) just rocks; Sweet Child… gets the dancefloor swinging; the three drunk guys channelling Freddie Mercury with the campest dancing ever seen in a WMC; even the half-time bingo provides entertainment as we debate just what language the caller is speaking ("South Yorkshire" might be a bit more of a challenge for big Dave's translation software than French or German).

Oh, and the encores. Remember I hinted at a theory a couple of dates back?

Just because my position on imaginary sky pixies makes Richard Dawkins look like the Archbishop of Canterbury doesn't mean I didn't pay attention in RI class, y'know. According to Judges, God bestowed a child upon an infertile couple on condition that he never have his hair cut or drink alcohol (OK, that might be a weakness in my analogy but, come on, some people believe the biblical stuff). The deal was that God would stay with the child - Samson (he was part of the Tribe of Dan, don'tcha know) - for as long as these conditions were met.

It's some nine months since big Dave had his locks shorn and, though not (yet) back to the Coverdale/Plant proportions of yore, his curls are at least bothering his collar again. Now, it might just be me, but I reckon his performances are getting better and better as his hair returns. Both ...Rosie and Rock & Roll are blistering tonight; the voice is restored and he really looks like he's enjoying himself.

So, great show; the guys are refreshed following their little break and head into a busy period firing on all cylinders - a good time to catch them if you can.

Someone's having fun;

To complete the oil painting collection;

Andy Parsons - LBT - 7 May 2008

2008-05-07T11:59:00.000-07:00

After years in the doldrums when, let's be brutally honest, the shite floated on a stagnant pond, the British stand-up scene is on a high, maybe an all-time high.

Intelligent, perceptive humour from people like Jeremy Hardy, Mark Steel and Marcus Brigstocke has passed into the mainstream via television exposure on programmes such as Have I Got News For You, QI and Mock the Week.

The thing is, they're not overnight sensations - they've been beavering away for years on the live circuit and in radio (still the natural home of proper, verbal humour).

This has instilled in them a work ethic which means they tour like rock bands used to - dozens of dates up and down the country bringing live comedy to those of us with limited access to the comedy clubs of the metropolises.

In the Lawrence Batley Theatre, Huddersfield has an outstanding venue which has, in the last twelve months, hosted not only the aforementioned, but now possibly the most underappreciated comedy talent in the land, Andy Parsons.

Andy's the same age as me, but that's not all we have in common. Oh, no sirree Bob. We've both lost the battle of the receding hairline and shamelessly sport compensatory facial hair; we both like Hobnobs; neither of us understands the popularity of David Blaine; we are both MySpace "friends" of Russell Howard.

There, however, the similarities end because, where I can amuse workmates for a few minutes at a time (scientists aren't the most demanding audience, it has to be said), Andy Parsons is one of the funniest people you will ever hear.

I first (knowingly) encountered him on Radio 2's Pullout Sections, the comedy news review he presents with long-time part-time partner, Henry Naylor. His pedigree, though, stretches back to Spitting Image, Alas Smith and Jones and Noel's House Party (but don't hold that against him).

The front row become aware, very quickly, that they are an integral part of the show. One lass offers Andy some nuts (she should have been paying more attention. Hobnobs, girl). One bloke (not the brightest light in West Yorkshire, it seems) becomes Robin to Andy's Batman for the night - a convenient excuse to explain the plot for the benefit of slower readers. We also have Craig and Chris, one the archetypal IT guy, the other a young goth who becomes the butt of more Cure jokes than you'd think possible - no idea which was which, I was laughing too much.

The subject matter for the show isn't exactly innovative; crime, politics, terrorism, Hobnobs, everyday stupidity and sex; Andy may stand politically opposite the Daily Mail reader at the bar of the Whistle & Ferret, but his concerns are comparable.

The routine could, I suppose, be viewed as a "greatest hits" package; a collection of the artist's favourite material from club nights and telly/radio shows. It's largely tried and tested stuff and it gets exactly the desired response, but the highlight of the night for me goes right over the heads of all but a handful.

During the interval, there's a track by the Cure slipped in to the music.

I don't think Craig (or Chris, whichever) even noticed.

Jagged Edge - Cedar Court - April 2008

2008-04-11T11:59:00.000-07:00

You're going to have to cut me some slack here, because I'm writing this, what, a fortnight after the show? And I've been basking in the Portuguese sunshine for most of that time (when not dodging the Portuguese rain or hiding from the Portuguese wind, that is).

So, how did the Cedar Court gig go? It would be awfully easy to slip into consultant mode, here.

The Cedar Court has many, many problems. First of all, no-one knows the name; to 90% of locals, the hotel at Ainley Top is the Pennine President or the Hilton. Secondly, it doesn't know its market; is it a business hotel, a ramblers' stop-off or a dirty weekend hide-away? Finally (well, not finally, but if they want me to sort out their business strategy they can pay for it) it just comes across as, well, half-arsed; laid out as if for an awards ceremony with staff dressed to the nines, yet serving up pie'n'peas and not even table service? Come on, make an effort...

The WAGs were (understandably) unhappy at being asked to pay but spirits were high by the (unnaturally early) time the boys hit the stage.

doof...doof...doof...doof...DUM-A-DUUUUUM...

Higher Place sounds amazing - the volume's turned down and we can hear every detail. This is going to be good. Well, for us anyway. Polite applause from the assorted birthday parties who have never heard of Journey and were probably hoping for a Robbie Williams tribute act or some Motown covers; they perk up at the mention of Bon Jovi, but they're not familiar with Runaway either. It takes that bloody Aerosmith song to get them onside.

Credit where it's due - we might not have particularly liked it, but DB's reading of the crowd is spot on and we're treated to the poppier side of the Edge with all the Jovi/Europe/Thunder chart-y stuff getting aired.

Part-time roadie (and full-time Brummie) James gives us a couple of his own songs before the second half and pretty damn good they are, too.

The second half sees a full dance floor with an early contender for dancer of the year who seems to have stones in her shoes. A request from the floor brings us another improvised version of Smoke on the Water, the location for which, interestingly, Big Dave moves from Montreux to Montrose. I went to Montrose once (to see Albion Rovers and, yes, we got gubbed); that's not Lake Geneva, that's the North Sea.

Again due to a request, ...Bad Name and ...Prayer are played out of order. This is much more unsettling than it should be.

Anyway, Adagio, Rock'n'Roll, Rosie... too soon (and stupidly early) it's all over. An interesting night - not as good as I'd hoped for, but not as bad as it could have been. The faults were not with band or crew - both were on top form; maybe I'm just becoming too demanding a punter?

See you at Broad Oak (in the rain, probably).

Awards Venue:

Awards Venue (band-eye view):

Full-time Brummie

Full Dancefloor:

Why are the dancing the Y-M-C-A?

New Song - Skip-to-ma-lou-Rosingana:

Portuguese Sunshine:

Jagged Edge - Shipley Tramshed - April 2008

2008-04-07T23:59:00.000-07:00

If you think it's easy doin' one night stands
Try playin' in a rock roll band
It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll

It's also a long way to the Tramshed if you lose confidence in your sense of direction and try following the road signs to Shipley from the M606. Our detour around a large arc of the Bradford ring road meant we got there about half an hour later than expected, but the party hadn't started without us so no big deal (Linda's nerves notwithstanding).

The Tramshed was considerably busier than on our previous visit but they have plenty of staff on both the bar and working the tables so it runs pretty much like clockwork (even if some of the table staff are a bit too keen to recover "empty" glasses). Other places could learn a lot from the Tramshed. Yes, Rock Café, I'm looking at you.

We weren't anticipating any surprises and, sure enough, the setlist was an unchallenging crowd pleaser.

The sound was a bit hit-and-miss throughout; Dave's keys were overly-prominent in both set openers, the top half of the guitar sound went completely AWOL during More Than A Feeling, the delay on the vocals seemed to be set at about a verse-and-a-half in places. When it came together, though, it was fantastic; Blue Collar Man, Faithfully, Comfortably Numb, Sweet Child o'Mine, Take it on the Run and Rock'n'Roll were all top-drawer performances; Wayward Son would have been on that list too if it hadn't tripped over itself somewhere in the instrumental break.

A good, fun show that knocked off any ring rust the guys might've had before Friday. Am I the only one excited about Friday? It has an "event" feel about it, can't put it any other way. Oh, and I'm really looking forward to seeing the crowd make-up; I'm expecting a bunch of hen parties and work leaving "do"s - can't wait to see the reaction to Adagio from people who think Noel Gallagher is a guitarist.

No offence, folks, but I'll be really disappointed if it's all the usual faces in attendance!

What else to say? Big Dave's big voice is just about back to full strength (hopefully that top note in Rosie hasn't set it back). I've got a theory about that which might just have taken shape by the weekend, so watch this space. Apart from that, schoolnight gigs - well, maybe just Monday night gigs - are a bad idea. Tuesday comes around too soon...

Dann the Mann

Drum'n'Bass

The Blue Boy

Key Player

Scream for me, Shipley

Jagged Edge - Barnsley Trades - March 2008

2008-03-15T23:59:00.000-07:00

As Linda has learned, I don't "do" wrong. Hence I find myself, once again, in a minority; not quite of one, but I haven't got much company. Last time it happened was during Euro '96 when I was the only person in the pub wearing a Scotland shirt. I still applauded that goal, mind. Through the tears.

Actually (warning - reviewer going off on a tangent - awooga - awooga - this is not a daffodil) it happens quite regularly. The Office, for example. Pile of pants. I was the only person in the country who dared say it in 2001; now they're queueing up behind me. Likewise Little Britain and Catherine Tate; alright for a single sketch, but you can't - scratch that - you shouldn't build a whole series on the back of a single joke. Castles made of sand slip into the sea, to quote a certain dead guitarist (a pint for the first person to come up with the tenuous link to Jagged Edge. No Googling!)

Oh yeah, Jagged Edge. That's what we're here for, not my deconstruction of the British comedy scene (that Chris Morris - thinks he's clever. He's not. He's not funny either.)

Where was I? A small minority, that's right, because I rather liked the Rochdale Transport place; liked the cosiness and the rather laid-back ambience. It was a bit like a low-budget cruise. I know I'd rather listen to Dann than Celine bloody Dion if my ship was going down. Hell, I'd rather listen to Monty than Celine Dion.

Focus, Tommy.

This week it's another place we've heard about but never visited, the Barnsley Trades Club. This is more likely to appeal to you big venue lovers because it's a big space with a big stage and a bloody big crowd. Biggest I've seen in a long time, in fact. Maybe Rochdale needs to reconsider its pricing policy - it was a pound to get in here and, although there might not have been seven times as many people (though I wouldn't be surprised if there were), I'm sure the bar takings more than made up for that.

One other thing that's "big" is the sound - no geometry problems this week and the guys on the desk do a cracking job to get a really good balance which isn't ruined by the odd strange snap, crackle and pop.

This is a fun show. Right from the start Big Dave is bouncing about like he's forgotten to take his ritalin; he's back and forth across the stage all night.

Oh, best performance of Blue Collar Man to date.

I'm sweating buckets by the end of Uncomfortable Bum - Dann's coda is that good.

The interval music features 747 by Barnsley's own Saxon, the mighty UFO doing Only You Can Rock Me and Rainbow's Stargazer, any of which would be a welcome addition to the Jaggie playlist. We also get an apology from the club chairman for his behaviour and language last week (remember this, it's important later).

The second half is another Journey-laden set, this time with added Faithfully (cheers, DB!) during which I get an unaccustomed view of proceedings as Linda drags me onto the dance floor. Now, I've filled a column inch or forty on here with my judgement of others' (lack of) dancing ability, so if anyone wishes to critique my two left feet, then feel free.

Both Whitesnake tracks get an airing (another back catalogue ripe for picking; Fool for Your Loving is a bit obvious, what about Guilty of Love or Slow and Easy? I'm sure Big Dave would deliver an awesome Still of the Night)

The dancefloor bounces throughout the closing Jovi fest then Dann makes his Axis sing - fantastic Adagio.

Big Dave finally gets to burn off some of that energy (though being careful with the voice) and the show's in the can.

Oh no it isn't.

They're a demanding audience in Barnsley; not one but two encores, the latter of which is accompanied by the first recorded waltz headbang in history as one couple manage to somehow combine smooching and moshing. Later, as they're leaving, the chairman (told you he was important) launches into a stream of obscenities which would make Gordon Ramsay blush. I've no idea what the poor lass did to deserve it, but I trust he'll be making another apology next week.

Barnsley - odd place, great show. We'll be back.

Of course, the night was just too exciting for some…

Jagged Edge - Rochdale Transport Club - March 2008

2008-03-07T23:59:00.000-08:00

More tea, vicar?

I wasn't quite sure what to expect of a Rochdale rock night, I mean, do they even have that new-fangled electricity on the wild side of the hill? Was it going to be the bikers' night from hell? Maybe it would be like some 1985 version of Life on Mars and we'd be surrounded by Gene Hunts in spandex?

Maybe we should stay at home? Nah, I had a new toy I wanted to play with and an otherwise free Friday night, so off we went.

The venue - Rochdale Transport Club - is a fairly standard (if rather small) WMC with an odd little stage built into one corner which was probably installed with dance bands in mind rather than acts people would watch. The seven quid(!) entrance fee doesn't encourage random trade, I wouldn't think, so you're left anticipating a fairly hardcore bunch of raucous rockers.

Wrong! I don't think I've ever been to a more civilised gig; no drunken twattery (despite fairly cheap bar prices), no spilled drinks; just a bunch of like-minded folk out to enjoy themselves either by bopping their socks off or admiring the talent (I'm talking musical virtuosity here, not tight-trousers-and-hair, OK?)

DB had been fretting about the problems the room geometry caused the sound guys but, from where I was sitting (too near the speaker stacks,if truth be told) they did him proud. You want to stick a tape deck on the sound board on nights like this - a handful of overdubs and the much-anticipated CD is done…)

Dann's ...Miss A Thing solo produced utter stunned silence in those present who expected just another covers band.

DB couldn't resist a Rochdale Cowboy joke when introducing Wanted... Mike Harding would be turning in his grave. If he was dead, like.

We had the first of - count them - three guests when local lad Carl (or is it Karl?) played rhythm on Every Rose Has Its Thorn (he was followed by a bloke (whose name I didn't catch) playing keys on Jump and a girl who might've been called Rosie but certainly wasn't 19 stone).

The Journey quotient was turned up near max with Higher Place, Separate Ways, Don't Stop Believing, Be Good to Yourself, Anyway You Want It AND Girl Can't Help It all getting an airing, but not Faithfully. We're still waiting for Who's Crying Now, Edge of the Blade and Loved By You, guys…

You all remember Flick Colby, don't you? She was legendary for her literal choreography for Pan's People. I think her spirit was present on Friday as the massed women on the dance floor indulged in a lot of finger guns and heart pointing - SHOT through the HEART - not quite up there with mad Gordon, but amusing nonetheless...

Oh - DB did something that I wish he'd do much more often (read: every show) - he actually introduced the band. It's just a wee thing, but it makes the overall presentation much more professional*.

Anyhoo - apologies for the even-more-disjointed-than-normal review but, as I said, I was playing with my new toy...

* It can be dangerous, mind. I recall Ron Keel introducing his band to the audience at the Edinburgh Playhouse when they supported Dio 20-odd years ago...
"This is Joe Bloggs on drums - he's a rock & roll animal!"
[muted applause]
"This is Billy Smith on guitar - he's a rock & roll animal!"
[muted applause]
"This is Jimmy Jones on bass - he's a rock & roll animal!"
[muted applause]
"I'm Ron Keel - do you know what I am?"

Three and a half thousand people told him exactly what he was. In three-part harmony.

Jagged Edge - Rock Cafe - Feb 2008 - ALTERNATIVE VIEW!

2008-02-22T23:59:00.000-08:00

Woah! CONTROVERSY!!!

Just for once, my good lady disagrees with me and would like her own say!

M'lords, ladies and gentlemen - MrsD will now take the floor...

Hi all! This may well be the only time I'm allowed to air my views here, so I'll make the most of it !

Recent conversation chez Tommy:-

T: What would you like for Valentine's Day darling?
L: A holiday somewhere hot - oh, and a private gig with the band please!

With his usual efficiency, my other half quickly organised my first request, and when we walked into the Rock Cafe I thought he had also granted my second. We were greeted by the band, the crew and just a few choice friends. However it was not to be, and the crowds duly arrived. From my front row seat, with the masses behind us, I could still pretend!

Now somewhere back in the mists of Jagged Edge history it was decreed that there is a certain protocol to be observed. The first set is all about listening to the music and appreciating the talent on stage (fair enough, except that my feet still feel that Higher Place should be in the second set). The second set - and this is where I feel as though I missed out -is for audience participation. In other words, DANCING, actively encouraged by the band. However on Thursday, the audience - with one exception - failed to make it onto the floor, despite DB's entreaties. The exception - a mad/sad/drunk (please delete as appropriate) individual, reeling around the floor, and often over the band. She first made her presence felt by spilling her drink down my (new) boots. Not a good start, I wasn't impressed.

Reeling from side to side, she invaded the band's territory, at one point almost climbing onto Alan's drum kit! Joining her on the dance floor was NOT an option, so me and like minded (ie waiting for the chance to dance) friends sat and quietly fumed.

Overall review of the evening - the band performed with their usual magnificence (Danny , you amaze me every time, DB - if you ever want someone to shake that tambourine, I'm your girl), but I can't help feeling short changed. I've put my dancing shoes away until next time - roll on Barnsley Trades!

Thank you one and all for indulging me in this little rant, but it had to be said. Till next time.......

Jagged Edge - Rock Cafe - Feb 2008

2008-02-21T23:59:00.000-08:00

We arrived unusually early at the Rock Café to find the guys soundchecking Hotel California. I suppose with Bon Jovi turning into an Eagles tribute act on their last album it was inevitable that the Jaggies would go the same way.

The crowd was slow to arrive, but by kick-off the place was reasonably busy. The Rock Café doesn’t seem to get as much passing trade as it used to – the young, beautiful people seem to prefer the delights of Queen and Cross Church Streets these days - but that means that all but a handful of those present are there to see the band. This should be a good thing.

The sound was as good as the venue permits so, although the first set was fairly standard content-wise, it was very enjoyable. Dann was complaining that he couldn’t hear his monitor, but we’d never have known – the Miss A Thing and Comfortably Numb solos were awesome, as always.

Comment from DB which might or might not have been serious – Eloise as a potential new track. Is he going goth on us? If he dyes his hair black then I’m going to start watching Band Of Oz…

Second set had a few decent surprises; former Jaggie (and now Storm) drummer Neil sat in on Summer of ’69, but DB was stood up by Ian Roper so had to do the vocals himself.

Annoyed at not getting to sit down and watch for five minutes, DB then surrendered the mic to wee Jo Shorten for Sweet Child O' Mine. Good stuff.

Unheard in ages, the Sweet’s (Love is Like) Oxygen got an airing then the Whitesnake slot was filled, not by Gimme All Your Love Tonight, but by Is This Love? And it was great. And I’m sure someone suggested that recently…

Big Dave was on blisteringly entertaining form. Terrific vocal on Separate Ways (he’s really made that song his own) and blew the roof off with the encores as usual. All this despite having consumed an industrial quantity of alcohol.

Ah, alcohol. Some folk just shouldn’t touch the stuff. It’s my other quibble with the Rock Café as a venue – that’s not a dance floor, it’s the main thoroughfare. This annoys the missus because she can’t have a decent bop. It annoys me because pissed birds who are old enough to know better spend the night spilling beer on me, banging into me and generally getting in my way.

How's the hangover, Amy?

Jagged Edge - Shipley Tramshed - Jan 2008

2008-01-21T23:59:00.000-08:00

More years ago than I care to remember, we had a burst pipe in the playground at primary school which, of course, was a magnet for us little'uns. I recall the dressing-down I got from the janitor while, soaked to the skin, I sat shivering next to the heater in his office. "I warned you. You'll catch your death..." I haven't felt that small in a long time.

"No-one cares about drummers. No-one loves us. We don't matter."

Alan was a couple of steps away from going down to the garden to eat worms after last night's show at The Tramshed. Thing is, like the jannie all those years ago, he was dead right; apart from a couple of oblique references, he and DS have been conspicuous by their absence from these musings. Due credit has not been paid.

Bad Tommy.

Hey, these reviews are written, primarily, to keep track of the good times I have. They're my diary; something to spark a happy memory in years to come. I'm no professional; I have no journalistic background or training; any "style" in my writing has been absorbed from years of reading Mick Wall, Dante Bonutto and Derek Oliver. I need the occasional bollocking to keep me focussed or I'll end up sounding like Gary bloody Bushell.

What, exactly, was Alan's gripe all about and why was it justified? Well, you'll have heard the TV and radio pundits talking about football referees and how they're considered to be at their best when you don't notice them. To those of us who don't actually know as much about music as we'd like to think, the same applies to drummers, bassists and keyboard players. Yes, they're there and we vaguely recognise them, but we only actually notice them when they balls it up.

Think about it; the famous members of every rock band are the guitarist(s) and singer(s). Bassists are anonymous (unless it's "their" band - Pete Way, Steve Harris - or they sing - Phil Lynott, Lemmy, our very own Dave R); drummers are interchangeable (unless they're "technicians" - Neil Peart, Ian Paice, erm...); keyboard players tend to be so shy they make bassists look like glory-hunting limelight hogs (unless they're Keith Emerson).

Not convinced? Here's a quick test. The following are/were the drummers, keyboard players or bassists in three bands the boys cover - who plays what and with whom?

Jonathan Cane, Alec John Such, Joey Kramer, Steve Smith, David Bryan, Tom Hamilton - you have 10 seconds, starting now...

Whaddaya mean you've never heard of them?

Long story short - this review is dedicated to the "referees" of the show; the guys we don't notice unless they have a bad game. Alan, Dave S and the guys on the desk, take a bow because your time is now.

Depending on who you ask, The Old Tramshed is either in Shipley, Saltaire or Bradford. It's a venue I'd heard a fair bit about so I was glad to finally take in a show. As you'd expect (the name's a bit of a giveaway) it's a big, airy building but it's been very nicely converted and the balcony offers a great view of the (perhaps rather small) stage.

Right from the opening bars of Higher Place, this was a great show. The sound was fabulous with the harmony balance approaching perfection and the vocals at just the right level in the overall mix. The big 80s drum sound in Faithfully was great and Jump featured DS's keys as they should sound. This was the kind of show that makes us keep coming back for more and it completely washed away any lingering bad taste from the Hogmanay mishaps. There you go, DB, The Oracle has spoken!

The songs slipped by, one by one; Blue Collar Man, Comfortably Numb, Separate Ways and Wayward Son all benefitting hugely from the well-balanced harmonies. Throw in the aforementioned Faithfully and Adagio and that's your highlights. Yes, the usual Bon Jovi, Guns'n'Roses and what have you too, but you knew that.

By the end of the night, voices, unexercised for nearly a month, were starting to tire but, after a performance like this, that's half expected. By way of a breather, we had a guest appearance from two guys - a vocalist and a drummer who must go uncredited as DB, in his inimitable way, completely failed to introduce them.

Bad DB.

Big Dave's usual pair to close out - a great start to the year.

Oh, afterthought - soundcheck was Is This Love, a song I've never mentioned in review so it must be a while since it was played in anger. Dust that and Hold the Line off and I'll be a happy camper...

Quiz answer :
Jonathan Cane - keys, Journey
Alec John Such - bass, Bon Jovi
Joey Kramer - drums, Aerosmith
Steve Smith - drums, Journey
David Bryan - keys, Bon Jovi
Tom Hamilton - bass, Aerosmith

Jagged Edge - Holmfirth - Hogmanay 2007

2008-01-01T23:59:00.000-08:00

To an architecture geek like me, the Picturedrome is a great gig; the building itself is a classic Arts & Crafts theatre and its interior shows little flashes of all the fashions which theatres and cinemas went through in the last century.

It's easy, then, for me to ignore the scaffolding which holds the place together these days, but the guy who bounced into the upright halfway through Whole Lotta Rosie would probably take issue with me. I suspect he's currently wondering where the black eye came from and vowing never to go out in Holmfirth again.

It's harder to ignore bar staff lacking a fundamental grasp of arithmetic. God help them if they ever have to deal with prices which aren't rounded up to the nearest 10p.

Hogmanay 2007 and the mirror ball over the dancefloor gives a nice 1960s heyday feel to the old place (it spent most of the latter half of the century as a bingo hall, y'know - Picturedrome was actually the name of Holmfirth's other cinema... am I boring you yet?)

DJ's doing his best to wind me up, mind; Motown, Queen, Pulp and Abba grind against each other and leave me whistling the refrain from the old Smiths song, Panic; hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ...

There's no support this year (last year's wonderful Cosmic Doris never played another show together after a good old-fashioned fall out within the band - rock'n'roll, baby!) so we get a bit more of the boys than usual.

Set one opens with the 2007 standard Journey/Jovi/Aerosmith combo and careers through Styx (Dann - almost twelve months into these reviews I've finally got the "official" spelling - is loaded with the cold, poor lamb, but you wouldn't know), Boston, Thunder and the like to Comfortably Numb. The lighting is excellent (apart from the dark stage corners) but the sound is slightly "odd"; the bass and snare drums are there but I'm not picking up the cymbals and the keyboards are just "lost" (thanks for putting the finger on that, Jason!)

Staff have a jar for "tips" on the bar by now. Here's two - learn to count and sort your prices out.

Honestly - £1.60 for half an orange-and-lemonade? You get away with London prices for pissed punters, but you can be reasonably sure that those of us on "softies" will notice.

Second set opens with It's My Life and DS's keyboards are suddenly very conspicuous in the mix; shall we just apply the old footballing cliche here? On occasions like this, the result (a seriously partying crowd) is more important than the performance.

A fair few rarities are aired - Final Countdown, Jump, Summer of '69 - but there's no Kansas and I was hoping for a bit of Sweet or Toto.

LingalongaJovi takes us up to the bells and Auld Lang Syne (hey DB - I can teach you the proper words before next year, if you like!).

No solo spot for Dann (somehow, I don't think the Holmfirth massive is ready for Yngwie) but he and his big brother bring the show to a great climax with the Rock'n'Roll/Rosie doublet.

Happy New Year.

Yeah, to all of you - the three Daves, Alan and Dann; Tracie, Val and Jodie; Phil and Jason; the familiar faces, the random liggers and, as they say in the best magazines, "all my readers" - hope you all have a fantastic 2008 and look forward to seeing you at a show or five.

May the best ye've ever seen be the worst ye'll ever see.
May a mouse ne'er leave your girnal wi' a teardrap in its e'e.
May your lumb keep blythely reekin' 'til your auld enough tae dee.
May ye aye be hale and hearty as I wish ye now tae be.

Jagged Edge - Hartlepool WMC - December 2007

2007-12-08T23:59:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-07T23:59:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-26T11:59:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-03T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-01T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-27T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-14T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-11T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-09T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-06T23:59:00.000-07:00

"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

2007-09-23T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-31T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-06T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-02T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-15T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-24T23:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-02-11T23:59:00.000-08:00

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...

Some blokes from work, escaping the day job

2006-07-22T23:59:00.000-07:00

A few of my friends are musical and take part in the sort of band-based incest which made Pete Frame a millionaire.

Dave and Stuart (both gtr/vox) are both 60s nuts and fancy themselves as Huddersfield's Lennon and McCartney but have become rather reclusive of late. Phil (drums) normally plays with D&S and just likes hitting things. He looks about half of his 38 years when he's got sticks in his hands. Pat (bass) takes himself way too seriously but is more talented than I'd ever tell him.

Pat plays in 3 different bands - a swing outfit (which he started about a year before Robbie had the idea but which has got a lot of bookings in the back of Mr Williams' popularity), an Irish band (he really is a "Pat") and a rock/blues band.

It was the last of these which played at the weekend, with Phil sitting in for their usual drummer. The two guitarists wouldn't look out of place in the Queen Vic - very Mitchell bruvvers.

Opening with "Dancing In The Moonlight" was a bit of a miss-step, I thought. The pub wasn't overly full and a fair few of the younger ones looked blankly at each other before heading for the trivia machine. Can't fault the sound balance, though; the twin guitars were excellent and Phil's "rat-a-tat-tat-a-tat-tat" fills were wonderfully authentic!

The set was a really good selection of songs with the usual pub band standards mixed with a few unexpected tracks I hadn't heard in years. For every "All Right Now" there was a "Can't Fool The Blues" (a song by Bruce-Baker-Moore), for every "Black Magic Woman" a "Renegade" (yep, a Styx cover version. What would HMHB make of that?)

Highlight of the night - "Shooting Star". The old Bad Company track which was a staple at our students' union rock discos back in the day. Great song, great memories.

Lowlight of the night - "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For". Urgh! Better than the original but still fucking shite. Ufucking2 didn't write a decent song after their second album. I am right about this. In years to come, I will be lauded as the person who showed the world that Ufucking2, The Office and Chris Morris were the turn-of-the-millennium emperor's new clothes.

We don't get out much these days, but I think we're going to have to make the effort to take in some of the other bands playing locally. There seems to be quite a thriving scene going on largely built, it would appear, by ageing rockers whose kids have finally flown the nest. It might only be nostalgia, but at least it's good nostalgia because, as we all know, rock achieved perfection in 1974. It's a scientific fact.

Fozzy Live at Bradford Rio - October 2005

2005-10-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

I wanna tell you a story...

Once upon a time there was a young man (well, he's a couple of years younger than me) named Chris Irvine. Born in America (his dad was New York Rangers' star Ted Irvine) and raised in Canada, young Chris had two loves in his life - professional wrestling and heavy rock (remind you of anyone?).

Chris trained to become a wrestler at Stu Hart's famous "Dungeon" wrestling school and, in 1996 at age 26, having paid his dues with many minor wrestling companies, made his debut with Ted Turner's World Championship Wrestling. He used the name "Chris Jericho", taking it from the Helloween album "Walls of...".

A few years later, Jericho (feeling he was being "held back" by backstage politics) left WCW to join Vince McMahon's now dominant WWF. His "heel" persona, arrogant yet whiney, got him "over" with the fans and his in-ring abilities left them spell-bound. It looked like "Y2J" was about to become a megastar.

Then disaster struck - a seriously sprained ankle sidelined Jericho for four months.

During this time he struck up a friendship with Stuck Mojo guitarist Rich "The Duke" Ward, a wrestling fan and HUUUUGE Jericho "mark". Jericho told Ward that he'd always wanted to be a rock star and Ward told him about a side project he was involved in when he and friends would get together and play club gigs consisting entirely of covers of their old favourites. He called the "band" Fozzy Osbourne.

Jericho signed up instantly and his boyhood dream came true when he played his first rock gig a few days later.

Knowing that there were a multitude of covers bands about, the guys decided to come up with a wrestling-style "angle". The story went that Fozzy (now Osbourne-less) had been signed to a Japanese record company throughout the eighties and nineties which had stopped them playing in their homeland. Instead, many of the top acts of the day (Twisted Sister, Ozzy Osbourne, Dream Theatre) had covered their songs. Dee Snider, Zakk Wylde and numerous others were happy to play along!

Securing a record deal, they recorded an album of covers then, over the next few years, two albums, increasingly of their own material. All sold well.

Last night [Wed 12 October 2005], Fozzy opened their latest UK tour to promote the album "All That Remains" in Bradford.

MrsD and I arrived half-way through opening act Flux Capacitor's set. Their lead singer obviously fancied himself as the next Scott Ian, but his band were significantly more musical than his vocal style - thrashy, yes, but there were a lot of melodies trying to get out.

Second act might've been called Rico or Recoil or something like that. A three piece from the West Country, they looked like Will Young's backing singers; the bassist and guitarist both looked as if they'd have to be up for school in the morning. The singer/guitarist was a TERRIBLY polite young man; all "good evening" and "thank you very much". Not very rock'n'roll.

Oh, but the NOISE!!! Very reminiscent of Rage Against The Machine. I suspect they were terribly good at what they do, but they don't live on my street. The finger gymnastics of the bassist were quite spectacular, but the runs were lost in the mix. Not a band I'd go chasing, but if you're into that kind of thing then keep an eye open for them.

Fozzy finally hit the stage at about 10 o'clock. The crowd (maybe 300) were stoked and the band blistered through a couple of numbers before Jericho started working his promo magic. The guy could charm the birds out of the trees, I swear.

Jericho, in the words of MrsD, was looking "mighty fine" - he's lost the goatee. Chris, fashion advice. Some people suit facial hair. I'm one of them, you're not.

A "cheap pop" was obtained by favourable comparison of Bradford curry with London (boo!) curry and Manchester (BOOOOOO!) curry then it was into a blistering "Wanderlust".

Jericho noted that Helloween (remember where he got his name?) are due to play Bradford shortly and said he'd had his picture taken with the poster advertising both them and Fozzy. "We've definitely hit the big time!" he crowed.

New drummer Eric Sanders played an impressive (and, thankfully, not over-long) solo which got him a huge response then noted fusion guitarist Mike Martin played possibly the best solo I've seen outside the Glasgow Apollo - truly awesome.

Closing out the solo, the band reconvened and Jericho channelled the ghost of Linda McCartney. Really, there's something just plain WRONG about a wrestler playing a tambourine!

Plenty more banter with the audience followed, CJ asking us to promise not to tell his "mom" as he had a beer. Demands from the audience to "chug! chug!" drew a surprising response - a young lady was invited to try to down a bottle. She happily climbed up on stage (early twenties, blonde, pretty - rather too well scrubbed to be a mosher) but failed miserably in her attempt. Jericho rounded on the crowd for booing which led to Rich Ward morphing into Beavis (or Butthead); "Hur! Hur! I can't believe you told them off for booing a hot chick! That's, like, so cool!"

Bridget (for that was her name) was urged to stage dive back to her place. The look on her face was a picture (confirmation of her non-mosher status! Ha! I'm right again!) but she DID actually do it and seemed to rather enjoy the brief surf which followed.

Before the "official" last song, Ward and Jericho debated who was the craziest person in the audience. CJ narrowed it down to one of four who'd been bouncing around in front of me all night, but while they argued amongst themselves as to who was craziest, Ward picked out another young lady (surprise!) and had her join the band on stage. Her reward? To sit onstage in the "Crazy Chair". All very corny, but it works...

The band went straight to encore without leaving the stage - a rousing version of "Enemy". Then it all went mondo bizarro.

You know when a couple of loonies manage to get up on stage and hang around the singer's shoulders before being dragged off and beaten half to death by the bouncers? That didn't happen. First two, then three, four, five guys were on the stage. Suddenly we were in double figures. By half way through the song there must've been forty or fifty fans on stage - we couldn't see the band!! Really weird. Really cool. A great visual and a fab way to end the show.

Funny to see a couple of the girls trying to get a kiss out of Jericho. Being happily married and a relatively new father, he was having none of it!

Overall, a very entertaining show. Personally, I'd've liked a few more of their excellent covers in the set - they do great versions of "Stand Up And Shout" and "L.O.V.E. Machine" - but they're doing this for the love of the music and to enjoy themselves so it would be petty to criticise the choice of material.

Consider: there was a Pink Floyd tribute band playing in Huddersfield who were charging £15 admission. I saw Chris Fucking Jericho for a tenner!!

Oh, and it was great to come away from a show with my ears ringing again. It's been too long.

Friends don't let friends listen to hip-hop.
It's a metal thing - you wouldn't understand - Slogan on Fozzy T-shirt

Photos from Rios by Droogie_Will

Once In A Lifetime - Manchester MEN - June 2005

2005-06-23T23:59:00.000-07:00

Hot, Hot, Hot!

Summer's here and the time is right for good old fashioned rock'n'roll.

The show is billed as "Once In A Lifetime" and one can't help but wonder what anarchy might have ensued had this tour happened 30 years ago. Teenage girls might have achieved the sort of overthrow of society punks dreamed of.

The Bay City Rollers - The Osmonds - David Essex - David Cassidy

Any one of these acts could have (actually, did) fill venues twice, three times this size back in the first half of the decade that taste forgot and here they are on one bill; a bit older, a bit greyer, a bit wrinklier (despite botox), not much wiser. Let's rock...

Les McKeown, for me, was the Rollers. See, I wasn't a wee lassie, my primary school self actually liked the music and Les was the singer - he was the band.

Today he's surrounded by a new band - they're all much younger than him and (unlike his previous cohorts) can actually play. We get a package of hits from Summerlove Sensation and Saturday Night to Bye Bye Baby by way of a somewhat unexpected medley of Shang-a-Lang with Deep Purple's Black Night (obviously included to give the guitarist a chance to show off his considerable skills).

Les' voice isn't what it used to be - years of abuse (he's up on drug charges after this tour) have robbed him of his range so he leaves the top notes to the backing singers and the audience. I suspect I'm the only person who notices this.

Great start.

A quick change-over and a familiar chant starts.

"We want The Osmonds!"

I was never really a fan. I liked Jimmy (he was the same age as me) and Crazy Horses, but all the lovey-dovey stuff made me want to pull the legs off spiders. Tonight, thankfully, there's no Donny or Marie, just the moshing part of the family.

OK, a bit of an exaggeration, perhaps, but compared to Puppy Love or Morning Side Of The Mountain, opener Having A Party is speed metal, baby!

Merrill takes stage front as current family patriarch - he looks remarkably like Kenny Rodgers these days - and is flanked by Jimmy and Wayne on flame-throwing guitars (not quite Ace Frehley, you understand, but credit for the showmanship) while Jay pounds away on drums.

The set includes all the hits (including ones I'd managed to expunge from memory like Goin' Home). Down By The Lazy River is every bit as cheesy as you remember and the boys look just like those evangelists on cable telly. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Having gone out of their way to annoy me (by making me sing along, goddamit!) they then excel themselves by giving us a drum solo. I haven't seen a drum solo in years! And now I've seen the Osmonds do one! Even weirder than shang-a-lang-a-black-night!

Of course, they finish with Love Me For A Reason and Crazy Horses. Better than I expected, enjoyable if not exactly likeable.

David Essex. The heartthrob it's OK for straight blokes to like. He was one of my first heroes and was the act I was most looking forward to tonight.

What a bloody set - Rock On, Lamplight, Gonna Make You A Star, Hold Me Close, Oh What A Circus, Silver Dream Machine, Imperial Wizard (complete with rather barbed comment on the War On Terror), Winter's Tale...

He even managed to fit in a new song, It's Gonna Be Alright, to prove he's still an awesome songwriter.

Stunning, simply stunning.

Manchester, please welcome onstage, from the United States of America - David. Cassidy.

Bedlam.

OK, I've taken MrsD to see her childhood hero a couple of times before, so I know what to expect. It still takes me by surprise, though. You can taste the oestrogen as the years fall away from fifteen thousand 40-somethings and they are transported back to a time before pelvic floor exercises and HRT.

David Cassidy works the stage and the audience like an old pro - he's Frank Sinatra, he's Shirley Bassey, he's Louis Armstrong all rolled up into one (slightly nipped and tucked but still horribly well-preserved) package.

For all the stars who went before, this is his audience - they hang on his every word, eat from his hand, jump at his command.

The music is almost incidental - Cherish, Daydreamer, Could It Be Forever (with near-hysteria accompanying the "but..."), I Woke Up In Love This Morning...

He reads his audience well and plays the "normal" version of I Think I Love You rather than the down-tempo mix then launches into a long story about his friend John Lennon before covering Blackbird.

Now, I'd have dropped the chat and included Some Kind Of A Summer but then, I'm a greedy bugger.

He might've started out as a manufactured pop star, but Cassidy has become the consumate showman - one of the genuine greats of the age.

And after the show? Well, for all I said about the Osmonds, Love Me For A Reason is the song I'm singing in the car home!

David Cassidy with the Osmonds - Pic from Merrill Osmond's website

The Lord of the Rings - The Return of the King

2003-12-17T23:59:00.000-08:00

The Lord Of The Rings : The Return Of The King

A Review, by T. Degenerate esq.

Let me put my cards on the table. I was a Subbuteo player, not a D&Der. I rate the original Star Wars trilogy as the ultimate fantasy experience and, though I thoroughly enjoy Terry Pratchett, I don't get the Tolkein references because I've never read the LOTR.

So, how am I to react to Peter Jackson's trilogy?

The first film was, well, dull. We're walking, and we're walking, and we're walking. For fuck's sake do something. OK, the wraiths were pretty cool and the character development was spot-on but, really, number two better pick the pace up a bit.

The Two Towers was more like it. A finely-tuned balance between plot and character development with some genuinely jaw-dropping scenes. Still not exactly my pint of Stella, but enjoyable hokum nonetheless.

And so we come to The Return of the King. We're promised a feast of storytelling which will tie it all together. We're promised that we won't be disappointed.

So, when did Alastair Campbell get the PR gig, then?

Opening with Gollum's transformation was OK if a bit out-of-place (was this part of the narrative elsewhere in the books, I wonder?). Then we're walking again.

Y'know, I can't actually remember what happened when last night? Stunning visuals for sure (with the exception of one scene which I'll come back to) and, yes, I suppose the story did unfold in a sort-of-logical way, but my over-riding impression when the lights went up was that it was the duff stuff that had stuck in my mind.

1) Battle of Big Cliff-Side City. Oh look! The orcs are knocking the walls down with rocks! Don't they fall easily? Why don't they just knock out the bottom layer and watch everyone get buried in the rubble?

2) Battle of Big Cliff-Side City (contd). Looks like the end for our heroes. What's that? Oh, it's Rohan and his, what did he say? 6000 men? Against a quarter of a million ugly orcs on angel dust? Not going to last long, is it?

Huh? WHY THE FUCK ARE THE ORCS RUNNING AWAY?? JACKSON YOU FUCKER, EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!!!! No? Oh well...

3) Battle of Big Cliff-Side City (contd contd). Ah! The orcs' reinforcements (some sort of buccaneer creatures) have arrived! Or have they? No! It's Aragorn and Legless and a cast of thousands of Mummy Returns extras. So, they hijacked the ships did they? When? How?? WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME, PETER????

4) Battle of Somewhere Else. By 'eck, lad, these flying dragonny things are funky and they're making mincemeat out of our heroes! Ah, but HERE COME THE EAGLES! THE EAGLES ARE COMING!! Gonna scare off Sauron's hoards with a 35 minute version of Hotel California, no doubt. Please, please can someone please explain the significance of the eagles???

5) Meanwhile, in Mordor. Oooh!! FUCKING big spider!!! See that, love? When you get one like that in the bath then you can come running out screaming for me to get rid of it (but not kill it coz that would be cruel). Good scene.

6) Mount Doom. Yeah, yeah, so Frodo and Sam get rid of the ring then do a mean Indiana Jones impression to get out of the mountain. They run out of the door and jump clear of the lava flow and.... Hang on, how much did the special effects cost?? Coz that jump scene was the most obvious blue-screen since the seventies. Trust me - watch out for it, I half expected Judith Hann to come on and explain this "wonderful new technology".

7) Big Eye Thing. That's Sauron? Scarey my arse, it's not like he's going to hide under your bed, is it?

8) Maybe Big Cliff-Side City, maybe Somewhere Else, can't remember. Pretty bird (Rohan's daughter?) and annoying Hobbit killed monster awfully easily. If he'd been an end-of-level boss in Tomb Raider then he'd have lopped off a Hobbit foot at least.

9) The End. Nice scene at Big Cliff-Side City. Aragorn's King!! Everyone loves Hobbits!! Aaaawww!!

10) No, Wait, There's More. Back to the Shire and the SuperHobbits drive in like they've been off camping for a weekend. No ticker-tape welcome. I don't think anyone even bought them a drink. Ungrateful fucking Hobbits, WE SAVED YOUR FUCKING ARSES FROM THE BIGGEST, BADDEST, erm, EYE THING EVER AND YOU WON'T EVEN BUY US A PINT?? Ah, but Sam's gonna shag that little bird he fancies. Oh look, they're getting married. They all lived happily ever after, The End.

11) Oh No, My Mistake. Yeah! Guest appearance by Bilbo!! He's going away with the Elves. So's Gandalf. So's Frodo. erm, why? PETER!! YOU MISSED A BIT OUT AGAIN, DIDN'T YOU?? Bye then. The End.

12) For Fuck's Sake, It's The Film That Never Ends. It's getting like Bill Withers' Lovely Day. Stop it now please, OK, Sam's got babies, he's going to live happily ever after.

TITLES

erm, Peter, I don't mean to be a pain or anything, but WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DWARF??? Blame Tolkein if he didn't give you any clues, but you showed us what happened to everyone else, man!!??

CONCLUSION:

The fanboys'll love it, it won't win any converts.

Biggest difference between LOTR:ROTK and Love, Actually?

I enjoyed Love, Actually

Christmas is all around me, come on and let it snow...