Manchester Gig Reviews
Smashing Pumpkins
The Apollo, Manchester – 31st October 2000
Disheartened by the cancellation of a Manchester date last October, and even more so by the band’s last, largely prosaic record – it was comforting to finally have my certitude rekindled in a group approaching well-publicised demise. Eschewing any art-credentials (i.e. no obscure shit – bar a Talking Heads recital) the band wisely opted to fill the evening with chiefly greatest hits material – culling tracks from everything minus ‘Gish’. All the grass-roots anthems were present and correct – with faultless renditions of ‘Zero’, ‘Geek USA’ and ‘Tonight, Tonight’ particularly unsullied. Donning ghoulish apparel, Corgan (in trademark PVC trenchcoat) and co. gave the bulk of tonight’s set a real injection of gristle – crisp, guitar-driven menace – complete with kamikaze moshpit and much vainglorious fret-wankery. Crowd-charming renderings of ‘Disarm’ and a hammer-heavy take on ‘Ava Adore’ helped round off a flawless night of adrenaline-teeming, premier aberration. A rousing acoustic encore of ‘1979’ even saw the band in replica football kit, pitching sweetmeat to the crowd from hollowed pumpkins-heads. An outlandish celebration of the baroque and the auspicious, for many it was less like a concert, more like a religious experience. Indeed, I do declare that tonight we found (the machines of) God.
Melvins
Manchster University, Manchester – 31st March 2001
Big hair (King Buzzo), big noise (all of them). The Melvins certainly made an impact on arrival. It was a bit of a strange gig, in a weeny room at the top of MUSU, and with a very mixed audience. They were peachy cheeked nu-metal kids with their compulsory chokechain from wallet to belt, old school rockers in their tight leather trousers and ridiculously skinny legs and hair on a Buzzo/At the Drive In scale, and lots of Kurt Cobain/ravaged Chesney Hawkes look-alikes (take note kids, a straggly blonde bob and battered leather jacket can make you look as much like a one hit wonder as a legendary grunger). Yes, an army of Kurts, for it was he who repeatedly talked up the Melvins and their drummer swapping is the stuff of obscure muso knowledge legend. But it’s not just Nirvana who have stuff in common with these boys. Despite the constant linking between the two Seattle bands, when you go to see the Melvins live it’s clear that there’s a huge list of bands you can think of who sound a bit like them. Buzzo’s distinctive low throated vocals sounds a bit like Gary from Reef doing his best West Country growl, but also like the Queens of the Stone Age bloke shouting Co-co-co-co-COCAINE, Zack from Rage Against the Machine groaning all over Township Rebellion and about a billion other growly, depressed, bitter blokes in between. Same with the riffs, you think, oh yeah, this is a bit like … and line up the usual heavy guitar based suspects. The fact is they’re just a fucking great live act. Very, very tight and super loud, as drummer Dale Crover once said: ‘We’re a rock band — domination through amplification!’ and this is truly a motto to live by. Not only does he play loud, he plays brilliantly, reminiscent of Marco Pirroni on Ant Music truly fucking great, visceral, powerful stuff. And he scorns a shirt right from the very beginning, bare-chested and sweaty, crouched over his kit like an even more demented version of Animal from the Muppets. The rest of the band, and there were 3 more, made a great entrance, one at a time, backs to the audience in true rock star style, while Crover smacked his skins for all they were worth. It’s a rare treat to get a drum solo at the beginning of a heavy rock act, and especially one of this calibre. Then the others joined in, building up this incredible ten minute wall of noise. Buzzo of the big hair on guitar, a faintly geeky Graham Coxon lookalike on guitar and some sort of mixing desk, and the bassist in some sort of cowl-necked smock affair (not to detract from his musicianship but it was quite a striking ensemble). I think he’s Kevin, but they’ve had a fair few bass players, so I could be wrong. Whatever, the audience seemed to like it. Even though they remained completely static throughout the gig, they were highly appreciative in the whooping and yelling department. The band seemed to be having a good time too, head-nodding and knee-bending in perfect time and generally really being into their own sound. I can’t really comment on the individual songs as I don’t know the names of any of them, and to be honest, it was sometimes hard to tell where one ended and the next began, but it all sounded great to me. I’d strongly urge anyone with the slightest interest in any of the bands I’ve mentioned here to go and see this band live, it’s quite an experience, and many of the other bands I’ve seen live could learn a lot from them in terms of dynamism and providing a great night out. And now I’m off to get me some Melvins albums and educate myself.
Super Furry Animals
The Academy, Manchester – 16th July 2001
The Welsh heroes of eclectic music creation, The Super Furry Animals, made their triumphant return to the live music circuit in Manchester on Saturday 16th July (2001) with a secret ‘acoustic matinee’ set at the Night & Day café. Unfortunately I wasn’t present at this slightly disorganized sounding affair (the set was chosen at random with a back-catalogue bingo machine, and apparently singer Gruff Rhys forgot the words to many of the songs and asked people to pop into the music shop next door for old albums with lyrics on the sleeves!) that apparently was excellent, finishing with the traditional “”The Man Don’t Give A Fuck””. Though they broke with tradition at the evening set at the Manchester Academy by finishing with a debut of a song from their soon-to-be-released album “”Rings Around the World”” – ‘(A) Touch Sensitive’, which had a ten-minute techno interlude, ending with a track that was seemingly based entirely on one sentence by that Austrian Adonis Arnold Schwarzenegger. The excellent backdrop video also included the man himself – in fact the backdrop videos were excellent all night, mostly cuts from the new Super Furries DVD “”Rings Around The World”” (which was shown at the Cornerhouse Theatre in Manchester the night before), which included some excellent animations by their favourite cover artist (or ‘monsterist’) Pete Fowler, and works from various other quality artists and directors. The gig was in surround sound, and they used this technical gimmickry to superb effect, turning many songs into whirling tornadoes – a new slant on many of the favourites – particularly turning ‘Northern Lites’, with its big brassy staccatos and rolling steel drums, into a huge epic. Similarly ‘Demons’ and ‘Do Or Die’ were transformed from excellent driving rock songs into transient experiences, and there were lots of wide-eyed people staring around the top corners of the concert hall. The atmosphere was excellent – I would say a large percentage of the people there were part of the omnipotent Welsh posse – and this was almost entirely down to the quality of the Super Furries’ performance. They should be touring in the summer, and if you have an opportunity to see them, I can most honestly recommend checking them out.
57th Dynasty
Manchester University, Manchester – 4th February 2002
Travelling from Sheffield to Manchester during a Monday afternoon rush hour is nothing nice. Despite standing in a packed train and smelling other peoples’ funk, the trip had to be done. One of the freshest hip-hop collectives at this space and time – Dilated Peoples – was about to do their first show of their UK tour in Manchester. Luckily, I was travelling to the show with one of the dopest MCs in the Sheffield hip-hop scene, MC Reality from the crew KNS. Kicking it with this cat made the trek bearable. Being affiliated with the Red Eye Knights and Multiverse 3, Reality brought a bunch LPs of the new Red Eye Knight compilation with him to sell at the show. So, we arrived at the venue hyped for the show with an objective: peddle Sheffield hip-hop to Manchester hip-hop headz! [This cat from Fat City record shop in Manchester gets mad love for taking a lot of the LPs.] Kicking outside of the venue, we met some b-boys, Timber and Will, headspinning right outside of the venue. They had no tickets. So, we thought it would be cool to knock on the Dilated Peoples dressing room to get them inside the venue. Some tour organizer told us to fuck off. But, Babu emerged out of the room and told security to get the two b-boys on the guest list. Mad props to Babu! 57th Dynasty opened up for Dilated. I was pretty hyped to check out these Brixton cats. I was feeling them until they broke out some misogyny joint rapping about their sexual exploits. All in all, they put on all right stage show. And, the Manchester crowd seem to get a big kick out of them. About ten minutes after Dynasty left the stage, Babu walked up. The drawn out chant of “”Baaaaaaabuuuuuuu”” echoed throughout the venue. He went right up to the 1200s and Vestax to get his records ready for his MCs. Babu gave the signal he was ready. Then, Evidence and Rakaa appeared onstage to set the place on fire. A minute into the show Evidence pulled out a fat-ass bag of trees from his sweatshirt and showed it to the sold-out venue. A couple minutes later, Evidence threw this same sweatshirt into the crowd. He told Babu to stop the music and told the audience he wanted his sweatshirt back. He got it back and took the weed out of the pocket. This incident of Evidence throwing his weed to the crowd made this performance memorable. After Babu and Rakaa poked fun of Evidence’s fuck-up, Dilated proceeded with rocking the crowd with joints from the first LP, Platform, like “”Guaranteed”” and “”Triple Optics.”” They also mixed in joints from their new LP, Expansion Team, that brought the young crowd jumping all over the place. Rakaa did the joint “”War”” acapella. This was dope because the audience obviously knew all the words leaving Rakaa impressed. Midway through the show, the MCs took a backseat to Babu. Babu exhibited his turntablist skills leaving the hip-hop headz in awe. He juggled for a bit. Then, he displayed his scratching skills over the instrumental of Blackilicious’s “”A to G.”” About forty minutes into the set, Evidence told the crowd he wanted silence in the venue so he could hear the crickets. After getting what he wanted, he recited the chorus to the hip-hop anthem “”Work the Angles.”” Babu brought in the beat and the crowd went into an unbelievable frenzy. The only tune that could follow up “”Work the Angles”” is their current hit “”Worst Comes to Worst.”” They rocked it and the audience was loving it. All three walked off stage for a minute to only come back for their encore. In the encore, each MC busted freestyles respectively. Then, they did their joint from Babu’s mixtape Soundbombing 2 on Rawkus. The show ended on that track and the lights came on in the venue. Even though their show was over, all three of them took the time to speak and sign autographs to everyone at the venue. They did not have to do this. Knowing that these California cats have been through an exhausting day of travelling and doing interviews and having seen them rock a quality show, I was impressed to see these cats taking timeout for their fans. They get mad props from me! We left the venue inspired by Dilated Peoples. We also left the place a little lighter since Reality was able to sell all the vinyl he brought with him. It was a dope experience. Not only did we check out some quality hip-hop, but we also hooked-up and exchanged numbers with a bunch of hip-hop headz in Manchester. So, the trip back to Sheffield on a coach was not all bad. It gave us time to reflect on our Manchester adventure and catch some sleep for the next workday.
Dilated Peoples
Manchester University, Manchester – 4th February 2002
Travelling from Sheffield to Manchester during a Monday afternoon rush hour is nothing nice. Despite standing in a packed train and smelling other peoples’ funk, the trip had to be done. One of the freshest hip-hop collectives at this space and time – Dilated Peoples – was about to do their first show of their UK tour in Manchester. Luckily, I was travelling to the show with one of the dopest MCs in the Sheffield hip-hop scene, MC Reality from the crew KNS. Kicking it with this cat made the trek bearable. Being affiliated with the Red Eye Knights and Multiverse 3, Reality brought a bunch LPs of the new Red Eye Knight compilation with him to sell at the show. So, we arrived at the venue hyped for the show with an objective: peddle Sheffield hip-hop to Manchester hip-hop headz! [This cat from Fat City record shop in Manchester gets mad love for taking a lot of the LPs.] Kicking outside of the venue, we met some b-boys, Timber and Will, headspinning right outside of the venue. They had no tickets. So, we thought it would be cool to knock on the Dilated Peoples dressing room to get them inside the venue. Some tour organizer told us to fuck off. But, Babu emerged out of the room and told security to get the two b-boys on the guest list. Mad props to Babu! 57th Dynasty opened up for Dilated. I was pretty hyped to check out these Brixton cats. I was feeling them until they broke out some misogyny joint rapping about their sexual exploits. All in all, they put on all right stage show. And, the Manchester crowd seem to get a big kick out of them. About ten minutes after Dynasty left the stage, Babu walked up. The drawn out chant of “”Baaaaaaabuuuuuuu”” echoed throughout the venue. He went right up to the 1200s and Vestax to get his records ready for his MCs. Babu gave the signal he was ready. Then, Evidence and Rakaa appeared onstage to set the place on fire. A minute into the show Evidence pulled out a fat-ass bag of trees from his sweatshirt and showed it to the sold-out venue. A couple minutes later, Evidence threw this same sweatshirt into the crowd. He told Babu to stop the music and told the audience he wanted his sweatshirt back. He got it back and took the weed out of the pocket. This incident of Evidence throwing his weed to the crowd made this performance memorable. After Babu and Rakaa poked fun of Evidence’s fuck-up, Dilated proceeded with rocking the crowd with joints from the first LP, Platform, like “”Guaranteed”” and “”Triple Optics.”” They also mixed in joints from their new LP, Expansion Team, that brought the young crowd jumping all over the place. Rakaa did the joint “”War”” acapella. This was dope because the audience obviously knew all the words leaving Rakaa impressed. Midway through the show, the MCs took a backseat to Babu. Babu exhibited his turntablist skills leaving the hip-hop headz in awe. He juggled for a bit. Then, he displayed his scratching skills over the instrumental of Blackilicious’s “”A to G.”” About forty minutes into the set, Evidence told the crowd he wanted silence in the venue so he could hear the crickets. After getting what he wanted, he recited the chorus to the hip-hop anthem “”Work the Angles.”” Babu brought in the beat and the crowd went into an unbelievable frenzy. The only tune that could follow up “”Work the Angles”” is their current hit “”Worst Comes to Worst.”” They rocked it and the audience was loving it. All three walked off stage for a minute to only come back for their encore. In the encore, each MC busted freestyles respectively. Then, they did their joint from Babu’s mixtape Soundbombing 2 on Rawkus. The show ended on that track and the lights came on in the venue. Even though their show was over, all three of them took the time to speak and sign autographs to everyone at the venue. They did not have to do this. Knowing that these California cats have been through an exhausting day of travelling and doing interviews and having seen them rock a quality show, I was impressed to see these cats taking timeout for their fans. They get mad props from me! We left the venue inspired by Dilated Peoples. We also left the place a little lighter since Reality was able to sell all the vinyl he brought with him. It was a dope experience. Not only did we check out some quality hip-hop, but we also hooked-up and exchanged numbers with a bunch of hip-hop headz in Manchester. So, the trip back to Sheffield on a coach was not all bad. It gave us time to reflect on our Manchester adventure and catch some sleep for the next workday.
Garbage
The Apollo, Manchester – 6th April 2002
So here we have Garbage in a natural setting, after the stadium tour. It’s a marvellous old building, big but intimate. They’re a two-headed monster, with heavily produced pop sparkles on disc, while here on stage they are blisteringly loud and rock and roll. Shirley Manson LOVES the stage and runs around to great advantage, pausing to swivel her hips or big-up the girls. And the audience LOVES Garbage, but mostly Shirley. The bouncing zone is big and everyone else is rapt and so they should be – this is a band, polished and practised, consummately professional but, apparently, having a good time too. They kick off with old album tracks and singles before hitting the new stuff. But everyone knows the new stuff too, so there are a lot of songs to sing and bounce too. I say ‘bounce’ because the crowd is so well behaved that they don’t mosh, no-one gets bruised, they bounce energetically but carefully. I find a lot of little borrowings in Garbage and I wonder how much they are conscious tips of the hat and how much reflects their influences. I not only heard some of House Of The Rising Sun but even some Bend Me, Shape Me amongst other quotes and borrowings. Garbage are a pop band playing rock or a rock band playing pop. They blister ahead but skip some of the clichE9s – what little guitar strangling there is is in a different tone, switching the signifiers. Similarly semiotically perverse, this is a pop band with three men yet Shirley plays up the Riot Gurrrls thing to her (more than normally) female audience and name checks Courtney Love. The forgotten men turn out a great sound from drums of Butch Vig to the energetic rhythm guitar of Steve Marker and Duke Erikson’s strange but appropriate lead guitar noises. Shirley picks up a guitar for So Like A Rose and plays barely adequately while Duke throws hammer-ons and all sorts of trickery around. In a show of telepathy she spends a long time telling us she doesn’t care how bad she plays. She’s really good at working the audience, stopping often for chats, flattering us, sharing insights. She tells us about JT Leroy and how Cherry Lips was written for him. She swaps bangles with the crowd and advises someone not to lose their watch. I felt transported back to when I saw Patti Smith at the same venue – Shirley Manson will make a great rock n roll matriarch in a couple of decades. The image is complete when Shirley sings “”I feel upset, let’s do something wicked”” in an almost exact lift of Patti’s “”Revenge”” (it’s on Wave – go and listen to it – it’s great). How much of Garbage is studied craft and market targeting, how much is love of what’s gone before and homage? I never get involved in the concert though I’m down near the front, I feel like someone watching a (very good) band. Detached. They work hard and sweat so maybe it is the material, which has a postmodernist stake through its heart. This view is almost confirmed by their cover of The Rolling Stones’ Wild Horses being the most emotionally involving song of the evening, though the whole room was singing along to Happy When It Rains at the end of the night. Nearly two hours of stagecraft and musical invention. A more than happy crowd. So how come there was admiration in my head but not elation in my chest or lift in my feet when I left?
Green Day
Old Trafford Cricket Ground, Manchester – 11th July 2002
If there really exists, in some dark room in CBGB’s, a ‘punk rock rulebook’, Green Day are clearly in breach on more than one account. Why, they’ve had the purists up in arms since 1994 when ‘Dookie’ sold ridiculous amounts to the American youth. Yet, despite Green Day’s unashamedly commercial approach, it’s hard not be entertained by one of the most electrifying live acts in rock n’ roll. Air raid sirens, flashing lights and explosions signal Green Day’s entrance as they launch straight into ‘Maria’. This is pure stadium rock: a cross between Kiss, TSB Rock School and pantomime. What keeps it well away from Bon Jovi territory is the spiky energy of tunes like ‘Hitchin’ A Ride’, ‘Basketcase’ and ‘Welcome To Paradise’ that send the baggy-trousered throng ballistic. Leader Billie Joe Armstrong indulges in some now obligatory call and response antics. Add to this the sight of him in a crown and cape during ‘King For A Day’, you start to wonder if the ghost of Freddie Mercury is spooking the man! For their cover of Operation Ivy’s ‘Knowledge’, Green Day invite three wannabe musicians from the audience on to the stage for an impromptu ‘jam’. As the diminutive guitarist gets to grips with the song, Billie Joe gives away his guitar and the kid walks away triumphantly to a roaring response. The only disappointment comes when Tre Cool fails to set his drums alight at the end of finale ‘When I Come Around’ but any fears of an anticlimax are jettisoned when Billie Joe re-emerges for a gorgeous ‘Time Of Your Life’, thankfully unspoiled by the absence of lighters. Confetti fills the night sky as Green Day bow out with ‘Scattered’ and ‘Macy’s Day Parade’. For a band that was once considered a novelty, Green Day have proved surprisingly durable over the years yet their reputation as a blinding live act will surely keep them in business for more years to come.
Ben Fold’s Five
, Manchester – 3rd October 2002
The Divine Comedy’s Neil Hannon takes centre stage tonight and declares Manchester “”home””. His slip is then acknowledged, but with the triumphal air of a homecoming show pervading the room the audience can’t help but lap up his error. Before Neil and the gang had joined in the fun the audience had already enjoyed a sumptuous 50 minutes of piano magic from the fingers of Mr Ben Folds. He’s tall, he’s gangly and he can’t keep still. He plays most of his trademark ivory-jangling pop from an almost surgical position, bent over his keyboard like an Oldham mechanic with the bonnet up. Tonight he moves from stool to centre stage, atop his baby grand and back again; joining the Divines as drummer, guitarist, and vocalist on the way. He plays a mean piano too, of course, and his ferocity of finger tests his Yamaha’s limits. Shorn of the two who inexplicably made up his Five, he makes quite a sound, though the crowd (who seem to know every lyric) are particularly audible without the bass and drums. Ben laughs this off however, giving them harmony parts and taking time out to direct his “”Manchester choir”” through an equal splattering of tunes from his four studio albums. ‘Narcolepsy’ and ‘Evaporated’ stand-out achingly, but once Hannon joins Folds for the countryish ‘Mess’ the depth his guitar brings suggests a backing band would do wonders for the Ben Folds sound, and hints at a fabulous encore to come. Now while Ben has a new live album to promote, the Divine Comedy seem to be here just to say “”hello, remember us?”” Well it seems we do, and they’re back, and they’ve grown. They’re here to have some fun and show us what they can really do, and once they’ve kicked off with their pop smash ‘National Express’ we know they want us too have fun too. Their quirky, often avant-garde, style hasn’t gone completely, but they’ve taken something more on board (something more ‘American’ if new songs written on tour in the States, such as ‘Idaho’ which is played here tonight, are anything to go by) re-inventing or refining their standards. Indeed during a rendition of ‘The Frog Princess’ Hannon comments that “”this was funny, once!”” He probably doesn’t do himself justice. The gathered throng are still laughing, while Neil himself is charming and humorous throughout (quite apart from his shoegazing hair coupled with his Scott Walkeresque voice) amusing us by balancing a beer precariously on his keyboard and attempting to play a song without electrocuting himself! The rest of the Comedy play with aplomb, even managing a bit of Barbershop, but this is the night of the frontmen and they re-unite for a rousing encore, singing each other’s songs and covering both Burt Bacharach and the Flaming Lips. Intense, flamboyant, original and fun. If you missed it, best hope for a Folds/Hannon studio collaboration real soon.
The Divine Comedy
, Manchester – 3rd October 2002
The Divine Comedy’s Neil Hannon takes centre stage tonight and declares Manchester “”home””. His slip is then acknowledged, but with the triumphal air of a homecoming show pervading the room the audience can’t help but lap up his error. Before Neil and the gang had joined in the fun the audience had already enjoyed a sumptuous 50 minutes of piano magic from the fingers of Mr Ben Folds. He’s tall, he’s gangly and he can’t keep still. He plays most of his trademark ivory-jangling pop from an almost surgical position, bent over his keyboard like an Oldham mechanic with the bonnet up. Tonight he moves from stool to centre stage, atop his baby grand and back again; joining the Divines as drummer, guitarist, and vocalist on the way. He plays a mean piano too, of course, and his ferocity of finger tests his Yamaha’s limits. Shorn of the two who inexplicably made up his Five, he makes quite a sound, though the crowd (who seem to know every lyric) are particularly audible without the bass and drums. Ben laughs this off however, giving them harmony parts and taking time out to direct his “”Manchester choir”” through an equal splattering of tunes from his four studio albums. ‘Narcolepsy’ and ‘Evaporated’ stand-out achingly, but once Hannon joins Folds for the countryish ‘Mess’ the depth his guitar brings suggests a backing band would do wonders for the Ben Folds sound, and hints at a fabulous encore to come. Now while Ben has a new live album to promote, the Divine Comedy seem to be here just to say “”hello, remember us?”” Well it seems we do, and they’re back, and they’ve grown. They’re here to have some fun and show us what they can really do, and once they’ve kicked off with their pop smash ‘National Express’ we know they want us too have fun too. Their quirky, often avant-garde, style hasn’t gone completely, but they’ve taken something more on board (something more ‘American’ if new songs written on tour in the States, such as ‘Idaho’ which is played here tonight, are anything to go by) re-inventing or refining their standards. Indeed during a rendition of ‘The Frog Princess’ Hannon comments that “”this was funny, once!”” He probably doesn’t do himself justice. The gathered throng are still laughing, while Neil himself is charming and humorous throughout (quite apart from his shoegazing hair coupled with his Scott Walkeresque voice) amusing us by balancing a beer precariously on his keyboard and attempting to play a song without electrocuting himself! The rest of the Comedy play with aplomb, even managing a bit of Barbershop, but this is the night of the frontmen and they re-unite for a rousing encore, singing each other’s songs and covering both Burt Bacharach and the Flaming Lips. Intense, flamboyant, original and fun. If you missed it, best hope for a Folds/Hannon studio collaboration real soon.
Madness
The Manchester Evening News Arena, Manchester – 12th December 2002
Now as much a part of the festive season as sprouts and depressingly violent soap storylines, the Madness tour is an excuse for thirty-something bank managers and brickies alike to don their Fred Perry’s and pretend they were fourteen again. Their chart-humping days may be long gone but, when everyone in the two-thirds full arena joins in with the ‘hey you’ intro of opener ‘One Step Beyond’, Madness transcend the trends to become a national treasure. As you’d expect, Suggs and co play their best-loved hits interspersed with their laddish old-school humour. Even if they were in the worst of moods and played half-asleep, a night out with Madness is always guaranteed to be a life affirming, never a dull moment experience. Their 90-minute set is a jukebox of British-to-the-core pop perfection guaranteed to shake off the calories. Heck, if they didn’t play either ‘House of Fun’, ‘It Must Be Love’, ‘Our House’ or ‘Wings of a Dove’ (contender for the happiest song of all time?), I, for one, would have demanded a refund! To those in the crowd who grew up in the early eighties, Madness were their Beatles, and, unlike the majority of their contemporaries, none of their hits have dated. Even now, they still conjure up the odd gem like ‘Lovestruck’ and ‘Johnny The Horse’, both of which are just as well-received as the oldies, whilst the Ian Dury video tribute ‘Drip Fed Fred’ is a fitting, yet hilarious homage to their late friend. ‘Driving In My Car’ is still rubbish, mind, and the moody ‘One Better Day’, fine though it is, sends a fair portion of the crowd off to the toilet. Bowing out with ‘Night Boat to Cairo’, the often-repeated fact that Madness were the quintessential singles band of the eighties is once again re-enforced. As we spill out on to the streets, dehydrated yet smiling, there’s a large group of fans still singing ‘One Step Beyond’. Like them, nobody wanted this celebration to end.
Badly Drawn Boy
Manchester Academy, Manchester – 16th January 2003
A Thursday winter’s night in Manchester and a sold out Academy see the Flaming Lips caravan roll into town. A seemingly unending stream of punters flow through the room’s double doors and the adjoining bar into the main hall and stop abruptly. The support act – British Sea Power – have stunned and confused them so that they stand bewildered at the rear of the auditorium like teenage boys at a school disco. Had they waded forward into the enthused throng caught up in the cacophonous furore they might have been rewarded with a metaphorical snog from the Catholic school girl we’ll call, for tonight, British Sea Power. With bare shrubs mounted about the stage, a helmeted bass drummer marching to and from his Bontempi Organ while beating out a freakish rhythm, and both squawking guitars and vocals it was easy to get swept up in the ferocity of the naval assault. In her Smiths meets Led Zeppelin meets Joy Division embrace we can do no more than lock lips and hold on for the ride. The other Lips were watching from stage left, perhaps hatching plans to better the sonic attack of their support act. When the waves died down the stage was awash with blue light and applause; and the boys in the back crept forward with Dutch courage in hand. They would have been glad they did, for approaching was a woolly hatted local lad with guitar in hand. On a whim, Badly Drawn Boy had decided to take on the packed house (apparently he just turned up to watch the show and had been asked to play). Tonight he played just three songs and, to be fair, was very good. Now, if you’ll allow me to go off on a tangent, I’ll explain why I was pleased to only have to hear Damon Gough warble along to three tunes. You see, I attended Badly Drawn Boy’s recent concert in Liverpool near the end of 2002 but it wasn’t a great gig. For starters, he had a terrible support band. I failed to catch their name and the guy at the merchandising stand fell into fits of laughter when I gave a categorical “”no!”” in reply to his question “”were they any good?”” That night, Damon himself took to the stage at around 8.30 and was done by 11. Now I’m all for value for money, but tonight this was too much for my legs and ears to take – I seem to remember there even being an intermission! The hardcore Badly Drawn fans must have had a fantastic night, and for the most part the band and Mr Gough were tight (‘Magic In The Air’ and latest single ‘Born Again’ sounding particularly excellent), but two and a half hours of his atonal vocal? He was even playing B-sides for God’s sake. But hey, his parents were there in the Royal Box (we all had to applaud them at one point!) so I guess you had to give him his moment before the folks (his mum knew every word to every song too). Anyway, I was underwhelmed in Liverpool. So this is probably why tonight I found the three tunes (‘The Shining’, ‘You Were Right’ – complete with a tribute to the late Joe Strummer, and a cover of a tune by the band Alfie), played solo and acoustically, a pleasant little interlude. Well done DG. The Flaming Lips then. Well, we hoped it would be something special. A spectacle. Of course that’s exactly what it was; a visual and sonic treat, from the moment the stage was invaded by fans dressed in huge animal costumes to the final poignant chords of ‘The Observer’. Badly Drawn Boy himself had earlier proclaimed the Lips the best band in the world and maybe they believed it. At the very least they believed they could put on the best show in the world and their introduction on the huge screen, that the band traditionally stand before, stated as much. During each song, onto this screen was projected a loop of film (perhaps a scene from ‘Cool Hand Luke’, an image of stars, or clips of the Teletubbies!), something bizarre to kind of suit the moment. Also, roughly a dozen huge balloon balls had been thrown into the crowd and these were being knocked from hand to hand to towering frontman Wayne Coyne’s head and back again. It was a truly remarkable sight to behold: a huge screen of film behind, twelve large balls flying around before, dancing pandas and bunnies holding torches on each side, and three men from Oklahoma playing music in the midst of this madness. Just a normal Flaming Lips show then. They kick off with a truly uplifting performance of their 1999 single ‘Race for the Prize’ and (with the exception of a fine version of their bubbly underground success ‘She Don’t Use Jelly’) move easily between material from their latest two albums, ‘The Soft Bulletin’ and ‘Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots’, all night. Coyne explains how he wants his shows to just be a party, and takes time out tonight to sing Happy Birthday to selected audience members. He has all manner of stage props: a mobile smoke generator, a neon light he twirls above his head, a camera attached to the end of his microphone that broadcasts his face onto the screen behind – enabling him to use his collection of glove puppets to assist in singing the song. He needs raw energy from the crowd to feed him, and continually throws confetti at the front rows while shaking his fists in a “”come on”” motion. But perhaps we don’t have the sort of energy he needs. It is only Thursday night after all and we’ve got work the next day! So the Flamies wind things down, killing the party atmosphere before it dies of it’s own free will. The balloons have all popped on spotlights or the spikey bits of instruments by now and the tunes veer towards the beautifully sad. This is the true magic of the Flaming Lips and for the first time we’re allowed to notice the music shining through (too often tonight it had been lost beneath the weight of different sounds they employ). ‘Do You Realize’ and ‘Waitin’ for a Superman’ are perfectly crafted moments in time. Before the vivid melancholia of a breathtaking ‘All We Have is Now’ (Neil Young must wish he still wrote anything as moving as this) Wayne reminds us all that this might be the last gig they ever play, or the last gig we ever see. He tells us to “”live in the moment.”” Well I knew I was living for every moment of that one. Sadly the show had to end. The big man’s voice seemed to be failing during the encore and after just an hour and twenty minutes we were back in the real world again. Perhaps they’re all perfectionists (they joined their roadies onstage before the gig to check all their equipment) and the thought of a broken vocal meant they had to call the gig to a halt. Or perhaps they were saving their star striker for their upcoming parties at the weekend in some place where the audience don’t have to get up early the next morning. Who knows? Don’t ask me to explain what goes on in their heads. They’re all mad I tell you.
British Sea Power
Manchester Academy, Manchester – 16th January 2003
A Thursday winter’s night in Manchester and a sold out Academy see the Flaming Lips caravan roll into town. A seemingly unending stream of punters flow through the room’s double doors and the adjoining bar into the main hall and stop abruptly. The support act – British Sea Power – have stunned and confused them so that they stand bewildered at the rear of the auditorium like teenage boys at a school disco. Had they waded forward into the enthused throng caught up in the cacophonous furore they might have been rewarded with a metaphorical snog from the Catholic school girl we’ll call, for tonight, British Sea Power. With bare shrubs mounted about the stage, a helmeted bass drummer marching to and from his Bontempi Organ while beating out a freakish rhythm, and both squawking guitars and vocals it was easy to get swept up in the ferocity of the naval assault. In her Smiths meets Led Zeppelin meets Joy Division embrace we can do no more than lock lips and hold on for the ride. The other Lips were watching from stage left, perhaps hatching plans to better the sonic attack of their support act. When the waves died down the stage was awash with blue light and applause; and the boys in the back crept forward with Dutch courage in hand. They would have been glad they did, for approaching was a woolly hatted local lad with guitar in hand. On a whim, Badly Drawn Boy had decided to take on the packed house (apparently he just turned up to watch the show and had been asked to play). Tonight he played just three songs and, to be fair, was very good. Now, if you’ll allow me to go off on a tangent, I’ll explain why I was pleased to only have to hear Damon Gough warble along to three tunes. You see, I attended Badly Drawn Boy’s recent concert in Liverpool near the end of 2002 but it wasn’t a great gig. For starters, he had a terrible support band. I failed to catch their name and the guy at the merchandising stand fell into fits of laughter when I gave a categorical “”no!”” in reply to his question “”were they any good?”” That night, Damon himself took to the stage at around 8.30 and was done by 11. Now I’m all for value for money, but tonight this was too much for my legs and ears to take – I seem to remember there even being an intermission! The hardcore Badly Drawn fans must have had a fantastic night, and for the most part the band and Mr Gough were tight (‘Magic In The Air’ and latest single ‘Born Again’ sounding particularly excellent), but two and a half hours of his atonal vocal? He was even playing B-sides for God’s sake. But hey, his parents were there in the Royal Box (we all had to applaud them at one point!) so I guess you had to give him his moment before the folks (his mum knew every word to every song too). Anyway, I was underwhelmed in Liverpool. So this is probably why tonight I found the three tunes (‘The Shining’, ‘You Were Right’ – complete with a tribute to the late Joe Strummer, and a cover of a tune by the band Alfie), played solo and acoustically, a pleasant little interlude. Well done DG. The Flaming Lips then. Well, we hoped it would be something special. A spectacle. Of course that’s exactly what it was; a visual and sonic treat, from the moment the stage was invaded by fans dressed in huge animal costumes to the final poignant chords of ‘The Observer’. Badly Drawn Boy himself had earlier proclaimed the Lips the best band in the world and maybe they believed it. At the very least they believed they could put on the best show in the world and their introduction on the huge screen, that the band traditionally stand before, stated as much. During each song, onto this screen was projected a loop of film (perhaps a scene from ‘Cool Hand Luke’, an image of stars, or clips of the Teletubbies!), something bizarre to kind of suit the moment. Also, roughly a dozen huge balloon balls had been thrown into the crowd and these were being knocked from hand to hand to towering frontman Wayne Coyne’s head and back again. It was a truly remarkable sight to behold: a huge screen of film behind, twelve large balls flying around before, dancing pandas and bunnies holding torches on each side, and three men from Oklahoma playing music in the midst of this madness. Just a normal Flaming Lips show then. They kick off with a truly uplifting performance of their 1999 single ‘Race for the Prize’ and (with the exception of a fine version of their bubbly underground success ‘She Don’t Use Jelly’) move easily between material from their latest two albums, ‘The Soft Bulletin’ and ‘Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots’, all night. Coyne explains how he wants his shows to just be a party, and takes time out tonight to sing Happy Birthday to selected audience members. He has all manner of stage props: a mobile smoke generator, a neon light he twirls above his head, a camera attached to the end of his microphone that broadcasts his face onto the screen behind – enabling him to use his collection of glove puppets to assist in singing the song. He needs raw energy from the crowd to feed him, and continually throws confetti at the front rows while shaking his fists in a “”come on”” motion. But perhaps we don’t have the sort of energy he needs. It is only Thursday night after all and we’ve got work the next day! So the Flamies wind things down, killing the party atmosphere before it dies of it’s own free will. The balloons have all popped on spotlights or the spikey bits of instruments by now and the tunes veer towards the beautifully sad. This is the true magic of the Flaming Lips and for the first time we’re allowed to notice the music shining through (too often tonight it had been lost beneath the weight of different sounds they employ). ‘Do You Realize’ and ‘Waitin’ for a Superman’ are perfectly crafted moments in time. Before the vivid melancholia of a breathtaking ‘All We Have is Now’ (Neil Young must wish he still wrote anything as moving as this) Wayne reminds us all that this might be the last gig they ever play, or the last gig we ever see. He tells us to “”live in the moment.”” Well I knew I was living for every moment of that one. Sadly the show had to end. The big man’s voice seemed to be failing during the encore and after just an hour and twenty minutes we were back in the real world again. Perhaps they’re all perfectionists (they joined their roadies onstage before the gig to check all their equipment) and the thought of a broken vocal meant they had to call the gig to a halt. Or perhaps they were saving their star striker for their upcoming parties at the weekend in some place where the audience don’t have to get up early the next morning. Who knows? Don’t ask me to explain what goes on in their heads. They’re all mad I tell you.
The Flaming Lips
The Academy, Manchester – 16th January 2003
A Thursday winter’s night in Manchester and a sold out Academy see the Flaming Lips caravan roll into town. A seemingly unending stream of punters flow through the room’s double doors and the adjoining bar into the main hall and stop abruptly. The support act – British Sea Power – have stunned and confused them so that they stand bewildered at the rear of the auditorium like teenage boys at a school disco. Had they waded forward into the enthused throng caught up in the cacophonous furore they might have been rewarded with a metaphorical snog from the Catholic school girl we’ll call, for tonight, British Sea Power. With bare shrubs mounted about the stage, a helmeted bass drummer marching to and from his Bontempi Organ while beating out a freakish rhythm, and both squawking guitars and vocals it was easy to get swept up in the ferocity of the naval assault. In her Smiths meets Led Zeppelin meets Joy Division embrace we can do no more than lock lips and hold on for the ride. The other Lips were watching from stage left, perhaps hatching plans to better the sonic attack of their support act. When the waves died down the stage was awash with blue light and applause; and the boys in the back crept forward with Dutch courage in hand. They would have been glad they did, for approaching was a woolly hatted local lad with guitar in hand. On a whim, Badly Drawn Boy had decided to take on the packed house (apparently he just turned up to watch the show and had been asked to play). Tonight he played just three songs and, to be fair, was very good. Now, if you’ll allow me to go off on a tangent, I’ll explain why I was pleased to only have to hear Damon Gough warble along to three tunes. You see, I attended Badly Drawn Boy’s recent concert in Liverpool near the end of 2002 but it wasn’t a great gig. For starters, he had a terrible support band. I failed to catch their name and the guy at the merchandising stand fell into fits of laughter when I gave a categorical “”no!”” in reply to his question “”were they any good?”” That night, Damon himself took to the stage at around 8.30 and was done by 11. Now I’m all for value for money, but tonight this was too much for my legs and ears to take – I seem to remember there even being an intermission! The hardcore Badly Drawn fans must have had a fantastic night, and for the most part the band and Mr Gough were tight (‘Magic In The Air’ and latest single ‘Born Again’ sounding particularly excellent), but two and a half hours of his atonal vocal? He was even playing B-sides for God’s sake. But hey, his parents were there in the Royal Box (we all had to applaud them at one point!) so I guess you had to give him his moment before the folks (his mum knew every word to every song too). Anyway, I was underwhelmed in Liverpool. So this is probably why tonight I found the three tunes (‘The Shining’, ‘You Were Right’ – complete with a tribute to the late Joe Strummer, and a cover of a tune by the band Alfie), played solo and acoustically, a pleasant little interlude. Well done DG. The Flaming Lips then. Well, we hoped it would be something special. A spectacle. Of course that’s exactly what it was; a visual and sonic treat, from the moment the stage was invaded by fans dressed in huge animal costumes to the final poignant chords of ‘The Observer’. Badly Drawn Boy himself had earlier proclaimed the Lips the best band in the world and maybe they believed it. At the very least they believed they could put on the best show in the world and their introduction on the huge screen, that the band traditionally stand before, stated as much. During each song, onto this screen was projected a loop of film (perhaps a scene from ‘Cool Hand Luke’, an image of stars, or clips of the Teletubbies!), something bizarre to kind of suit the moment. Also, roughly a dozen huge balloon balls had been thrown into the crowd and these were being knocked from hand to hand to towering frontman Wayne Coyne’s head and back again. It was a truly remarkable sight to behold: a huge screen of film behind, twelve large balls flying around before, dancing pandas and bunnies holding torches on each side, and three men from Oklahoma playing music in the midst of this madness. Just a normal Flaming Lips show then. They kick off with a truly uplifting performance of their 1999 single ‘Race for the Prize’ and (with the exception of a fine version of their bubbly underground success ‘She Don’t Use Jelly’) move easily between material from their latest two albums, ‘The Soft Bulletin’ and ‘Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots’, all night. Coyne explains how he wants his shows to just be a party, and takes time out tonight to sing Happy Birthday to selected audience members. He has all manner of stage props: a mobile smoke generator, a neon light he twirls above his head, a camera attached to the end of his microphone that broadcasts his face onto the screen behind – enabling him to use his collection of glove puppets to assist in singing the song. He needs raw energy from the crowd to feed him, and continually throws confetti at the front rows while shaking his fists in a “”come on”” motion. But perhaps we don’t have the sort of energy he needs. It is only Thursday night after all and we’ve got work the next day! So the Flamies wind things down, killing the party atmosphere before it dies of it’s own free will. The balloons have all popped on spotlights or the spikey bits of instruments by now and the tunes veer towards the beautifully sad. This is the true magic of the Flaming Lips and for the first time we’re allowed to notice the music shining through (too often tonight it had been lost beneath the weight of different sounds they employ). ‘Do You Realize’ and ‘Waitin’ for a Superman’ are perfectly crafted moments in time. Before the vivid melancholia of a breathtaking ‘All We Have is Now’ (Neil Young must wish he still wrote anything as moving as this) Wayne reminds us all that this might be the last gig they ever play, or the last gig we ever see. He tells us to “”live in the moment.”” Well I knew I was living for every moment of that one. Sadly the show had to end. The big man’s voice seemed to be failing during the encore and after just an hour and twenty minutes we were back in the real world again. Perhaps they’re all perfectionists (they joined their roadies onstage before the gig to check all their equipment) and the thought of a broken vocal meant they had to call the gig to a halt. Or perhaps they were saving their star striker for their upcoming parties at the weekend in some place where the audience don’t have to get up early the next morning. Who knows? Don’t ask me to explain what goes on in their heads. They’re all mad I tell you.
Linkin Park
The Apollo, Manchester – 7th March 2003
How many of you saw us when we played here with the Deftones?’ asks Linkin Park frontman Chester Bennington of the sold-out Apollo. That so few raised their hands is hardly surprising considering how frighteningly young some sections of the crowd are. As I watched my every step, so not to trample these urchins with my size 12s, I was reminded how my parents forbid me to go to rock concerts at age 7, presumably for fear of me being kidnapped by Satan-worshipping, drug-crazed degenerates in Saxon T-shirts. Linkin Park are, however, the family-friendly face of nu-metal. They may be a bit shouty but they pose no real threat. They don’t do drugs nor drink to excess, they look like a hard-rockin’ N’Sync, and – most of all – there’s no blue language apart from one or two of Bennington’s and rapper Mike Shinoda’s stage raps. So far, so inoffensive. Yet tonight’s show, one of three warm-ups for their upcoming world tour, suggests that the smart money is on Linkin Park to survive the imminent nu-metal cull. Slipknot may have the masks and Limp Bizkit may possess more swearwords than Roger Mellie’s Profanosaurus, but Linkin Park have that one simple, yet indisputable weapon – songs. Their gimmick-free set only enhances their strengths and enthusiasm is in abundance, particularly when Bennington takes a potentially nasty tumble on to the floor. New tracks from their second album ‘Meteora’ including ‘Somewhere I Belong’ are well-received, not least because they don’t stray too far from the winning formula of ‘Hybrid Theory’. However, the biggest cheers are reserved for those punchy, yet undeniably catchy hits. ‘Crawling’ still sounds like Savage Garden (on the verses, at least!) and ‘In The End’ remains a wonderful rock song, even if it strays into power-ballad territory. The angrier Linkin Park get, the response is greater as the explosive pairing of ‘A Place For My Head’ and ‘One Step Closer’ brings things to a spectacular close. Taking into account the £16 ticket price, Linkin’s all-too-brief set may have left some feeling short-changed and the lack of spontaneity suggests there is little difference between Linkin Park on stage and Linkin Park on CD. Still, to this outsider, Linkin Park show that, in the great big nu-metal turd, they are a rare shining diamond.
The Wildhearts
Manchester Academy 2, Manchester – 24th April 2003
The record industry still don’t know what to do with them and the vast majority of the media continues to turn a blind eye, yet the Wildhearts’ renaissance is clearly in full swing. That they can go away for five years and come back to Top 20 singles and packed-out venues is a testament to their lasting popularity. Then again the Wildhearts boast the sort of obsessive, dedicated following that lesser bands envy. Their fans’ continued support and (considering such interim stinkers as Clam Abuse) patience is duly rewarded with an awesome 15-song set that extinguishes the sour memory of the last Wildhearts’ concert I attended six years ago in Nottingham when they could barely keep it together. The band’s problems may not be quite behind them (bassist Danny McCormack is holed up in rehab, his place tonight taken by potato-headed Jon Poole). Yet with Ginger and CJ sharing a stage again, the Wildhearts have rediscovered their thunder to the extent where current material such as ‘Vanilla Radio’ and ‘Stormy in the North’ stands tall and proud next to established crowd pleasers as ‘I Wanna Go Where The People Go’, ‘Caffeine Bomb’ and ‘TV Tan’. The band who pulled out of a Monsters of Rock revival tour so not to be seen as an irrelevance still mean the world to these people who embrace every chorus, lyric, key change and drum fill. To see the look of surprise and joy on the crowd’s face when they unexpectedly pulled out the mind-blowing ‘Sky Babies’ (all 12 minutes of it and not one duff note played!) was unforgettable and priceless. One of the new songs played tonight was called ‘Top of the World’. I doubt there was nobody who didn’t feel that way. Radio 1, MTV, NME – your ignorance is your loss!
The Durutti Column
Manchester’s Comedy Store, Manchester – 27th May 2003
The Durutti Column is one man, Vini Reilly, and whoever he chooses to play with him. For the last couple of decades that has included Bruce Mitchell on drums. Since 1979’s The Return Of The Durutti Column, a reputation has built up for going his own way and performances have become increasingly rare over the last few years. With an international reputation, this evening was to be a treat for the hometown, Manchester. From a background of amplifier hiss, Vini Reilly steps quietly up to the stage. ‘I wanted to tell a joke but they wouldn’t let me.’ A thin figure with a mop of grey hair, he holds the audience’s attention. ‘It starts quiet then it gets loud’, he warns us. Lullaby is a gentle piece, a warm up, with Vini accompanying a pre-recorded lullaby. The guitar shimmers, glittering shards spinning from the fretboard. This isn’t electric guitar playing as we know it. He continues with material from his Someone Else’s Party album. Tough stuff, about the sadness he felt as his mother fell ill and died. He sings. Vini Reilly’s singing is terrible but, in this context, works just right, it’s very personal and musical considerations fall away. He treats us to his first extended solo, a concentrated and solid piece. Tone is characterised, as always, by the echo box, a constant in The Durutti Column’s sound. There are few guitar players around who can be identified instantly. Vini Reilly is one of them. His playing voice is most of it and the echo box a minor part. Really, he could be playing anything and we’d love it; we are hearing his saeta, the ‘song of the soul’. He proves it by drifting into flamenco rhythms a few times. Pretty soon he’s joined by Keir and Bruce. Keir bringing samples, Bruce bringing eccentric, jazz-inflected drums. Songs work around themes of death, illness, regret and sadness. The guitar rhythms are complex. I look at my partner’s hands as she sits next to me and all ten fingers are working to different beats. ‘Some of these words are really hard’ says Vini. These songs are views into a private world and that induces a reverence of sorts in the crowd. Songs come and go as the guitar washes over us, occasionally hindered by some crude samples or keys from Laurie or Keir. The real life is in the guitar / drum interplay. A bluegrass piece migrates, via a drum solo, into a fast blues then a keyboard solo with the ubiquitous echo box and a jazz drum solo. Bruce chews gum and grins. Sometimes Vini plays keyboards and guitar at the same time, the echo and slow hand enabling him to accompany himself. As the evening goes on Vini becomes more and more absorbed, improvising at length and tying himself up in music, often turned round to face his amp or hunkered down on the floor, searching for notes he can’t name. When the end comes, it comes too soon. A reverential evening for a musician and band that deserved it. It was a treat and an honour to be there.
Erin McKeown
Salford Lowry, Manchester – 1st July 2003
Marching out in front of a large hall to open for Richard Thompson, Erin McKeown is apparently unfazed. A diminutive pig-tailed figure in a black dress, she is almost swamped by the stage. That is, until she opens her mouth. With only an acoustic guitar and attitude her forthright yet playful songs win a polite but positive response from the audience. Singer-songwriter can be a Folk ghetto that is hard to break out of and Erin has made a smart move in playing with Richard Thompson, someone who bridges the camps. Despite having an album out, she chooses to open with two songs that no-one will have heard. Live and solo, her guitar sound is more aggressive and attention focussed on the lyrics. And what strange lyrics they are, surreal and edgy. La Petite Mort is a peculiar little piece from a husband to his wife who has died on her wedding night. Others explore ground that might be cutsey in less assured hands but here is playful and picturesque. Images tumbled over the audience in a wash of painted colours. It’s a shame she only gets half an hour, there was no sense of it being too long until the slightly forced obligatory audience participation slot. A new album is due out in the Autumn, apparently a concept piece based around Judy Garland.
Jane’s Addiction
The Apollo, Manchester – 2nd November 2003
2003? It’s 1990 all over again! Not only are we having problems with Iraq, but also cock rock is back in the charts and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles have crawled out of the sewer to enjoy a second wind. Tonight at the Apollo, further proof that we’ve secretly been transported back 13 years is evident with the appearance of a Pop Will Eat Itself top here and a Carter USM T-shirt there. There’s even a couple enthusing about an upcoming Wonder Stuff and Voice Of The Beehive gig. What next? A Flowered Up revival? Stripey tights and Doc Marten’s? And that’s before I’ve mentioned Jane’s Addiction who, until this summer, last released an album in 1990. With an androgynous frontman, a superb guitarist capable of pulling off kaleidoscopic, Zeppelin-sized riffs and a bunch of songs that bridged mainstream appeal with alternative cool, Jane’s Addiction were rock’s dream come true. They could have been huge, bigger than Nirvana even, yet Jane’s gave it all up in 1991 after just two albums, choosing to preserve their relevancy and reputation than chase mass acceptance. An admirable decision, sure, but one made way too early, so few doubted Jane’s wisdom when they reformed in 1997. With new bassist Chris Cheney joining vocalist Perry Farrell, guitarist Dave Navarro and drummer Stephen Perkins, a rapturous applause greets Jane’s Addiction as the rumbling bassline to ‘Up The Beach’ builds up the anticipation, hailing the start of what promises to be a special performance. Clad in black leather vest and jeans, looking like he’s just stepped out of a Frankie Goes To Hollywood video, Farrell bounces on stage with more energy than most men at 42 and a grin that not even a swift left hook could dislodge. Songs from Jane’s comeback album ‘Strays’, including the title track and an acoustic ‘Just Because’, go down fine but, let’s be honest, they don’t hold a candle to classics such as ‘Been Caught Stealing’ or the frantic, funk-metal brilliance of ‘Stop’. The lovely, serene ‘… Then She Did’ balances out the rock, showcasing Navarro’s beautiful guitar work for those not too enraptured by the man’s bare chest. With that, and the towering anthems ‘Ocean Size’ and ‘Mountain Song’, all stamped with Farrell’s unique, yet engaging vocals, it’s hard not to imagine Jane’s Addiction as a nineties Led Zeppelin had they decided to stick around. They won’t get any bigger than they are now, so let’s be thankful that Jane’s Addiction are together again and still playing the wonderful, calypso-tinged ‘Jane Says’, which closes tonight’s set, as good as they did in 1990. Standing at the front of the stage for a good five minutes, they lap up the praise from the appreciative audience, faces beaming as if to say ‘we’re back’. Inspired as always.
Amplifier
Manchester Academy, Manchester – 20th April 2004
Amplifier really know how to create dramatic tension. Taking the stage quietly, the Manchester-based trio look like ordinary people, yet at the first chord they transform into something unearthly. The familiar opening of ‘The Consultancy’ causes the air particles to vibrate in feverish anticipation, building to shattering point before frontman Sel Balamir unleashes the song’s twisting riff, dissolving the tension in the room and replacing it with palpable electricity. Neil Mahony’s bass sounds more tangible and life-affirming in a live setting, providing an equal and vital counterpart to Sel’s guitar, all of which is underpinned by Matt Brobin’s strong and sustained drumming. Standout track tonight is clearly the anthemic Motorhead’, a song that has been understandably cited as the band’s ‘manifesto’. They fulfil the lyrical promise ‘gonna turn it up loud inside your head’ amid layers of distortion, grinding riffs, heavy bass and soaring melody. It is easy to become lost in Amplifier’s hypnotic music and their set is over all too soon. As Sel lifts his guitar to the air in a final gesture, the bright stage lighting highlights his wiry silhouette, which moves like a strange spirit of music. Unfortunately, the effect is somewhat ruined when his guitar catches an overhead wire. They may be real people capable of human error, but their atmospheric music is enough to transport anyone into a more beautiful world.
Charlotte Hatherley
Manchester Academy, Manchester – 22nd September 2004
Following on from the release of her first solo venture, Grey Will Fade, Charlotte Hatherley embarked on a 6 date tour of the U.K. in between commitments with her full time band, Ash. Being very impressed with the album myself I was eager to see how the songs would sound live. Joining her onstage were the bass player from Idlewild and the guitarist from Graham Coxon’s band along with support from drums and keyboard. The Manchester Academy 3 has a very close, personal atmosphere for gigs and is a perfect setting for Charlotte Hatherley to perform her solo work. Opener and first single Kim Wilde delivers a triumphant pop rock beginning that sets the tone for the evening. Being somewhat of an old hand at live performances after 5 years with Ash, Charlotte did not disappoint in terms of delivery and technical ability. Those that have heard Grey Will Fade will be aware of the almost childlike vocals that occupy the songs on the album, indeed many have likened her vocal style to that of Bjork. With this in mind her performance tonight was consistently warming and a pleasure to experience. Having someone so pleasing to the eye on stage does, I have to admit, make the performance even more enjoyable and with repeated shouts of “”I love you Charlotte”” from the crowd, it seems I am not alone in this thought. Though there is not a huge amount of audience interaction, it struck me that this was more the result of nerves rather than choice. This is probably a very new experience for Charlotte anyway as Tim Wheeler from Ash normally does all the talking. After running through the album in its entirety, with highlights being the fantastically fun Bastardo, the chilled out Down and new single Summer, Charlotte and her band exit the stage. Returning after the obligatory chants for ‘one more’ Charlotte informs the crowd that she has decided to resurrect an old b-side for the live performances. And on this note she launches into the first song she wrote in Ash, Taken Out. An appropriate ending to a very impressive performance, leaving the hard core Ash fans in the crowd feeling deservedly joyous.
Particle
Roadhouse, Manchester – 2nd December 2004
Manchester saw the band playing to a small crowd of locals and Deadheads, dancing shamelessly. I love long pieces where you can get into the groove and lose the inhibitions that keep us from dancing and singing unless we are drunk. Tonight the band played a different set of tunes and had settled into being a trio, becoming almost a jazz band in the levels of interaction. One of the highlights was realising that the band also knew when NOT to play – there were periods when the band dropped to a trio and the third member would stand, ear cocked, waiting for the right time to contribute, not just to fill an empty space. Particle are promising to come back in March for a larger tour, to accompany their three dates in Amsterdam. I’d give them an evening of your time.
Muse
Manchester M.E.N. Arena, Manchester – 11th November 2006
Fresh from their triumphant summer festival appearances, Muse hit the road, bringing their intergalactic space rock to the arenas of the U.K. Never ones to disappoint on the theatrics of performing their songs for a live audience, Muse pulled out all the stops for their stage show in Manchester. Focussing largely on songs from their latest offering ‘Black Holes and Revelations,’ the trio roared through hits such as ‘Starlight’ and ‘Supermassive Black Hole,’ with flawless precision and showmanship. Set against huge screens depicting stars, planets and all manner of space related scenery, drummer Dominic Howard appears from within a huge column of lights at stage left. He is shortly joined by bassist Chris Wolstenhome on the other side, leaving centre stage free for Matt Bellamy to take up his position as guitar hero for the night. The band open the show with the closing track from ‘Black Holes and Revelations,’ ‘Knights of Cydonia,’ which serves as a perfect riff-filled opener. During their 2 hour set the band gave the crowd what they wanted in the form of ‘Hysteria,’ ‘Newborn,’ ‘Time Is Running Out’ and particular live favourite ‘Plug In Baby.’ Debut album ‘Showbiz’ was represented only once and the obligatory balloon drop occurred during their performance of ‘Bliss,’ scattering red feathers over a delighted crowd. The gig was Muse at their stadium rocking best from start to finish, playing all the hits that the average fan demands but with enough in the set to still satisfy the hardcore fans. In a very apt close to the show Muse chose to finish with ‘Take A Bow,’ the opening track from ‘Black Holes and Revelations,’ bookending the entire, breathtaking experience in superb fashion.
Richard Ashcroft
Manchester M.E.N. Arena, Manchester – 30th November 2006
Thanks to an ever loyal fan base, Richard Ashcroft took on the Manchester Evening News Arena in December with glorious results. Though I am a huge Ashcroft fan I still find it surprising that he has the pulling power to fill venues with such a huge capacity, as he is not at the forefront of public attention at this time. Richard Ashcroft albums seem to come with relatively little media hype or attention, though they are fantastic lessons in song writing, and tend to be preceded by one mainstream friendly single. It is due to this lack of publicity that I was surprised when Richard Ashcroft announced gigs at the Lancashire County Cricket ground and the M.E.N. arena in the summer and winter of 2006 respectively, which are large capacity venues usually showcasing the biggest artists and bands of the moment. Having said all this, the crowd that flock to his gigs tend to be the hardcore, committed Ashcroft following that ensure a rapturous welcome when the soul man makes his entrance. Sticking largely with his solo material, Dickie runs through the highlights from his three solo outings, delighting the crowd with older songs such as ‘Song for the lovers,’ ‘Check the meaning,’ and newer offerings such as ‘Paint the night with colour,’ ‘Music is power,’ and ‘Keys to the world.’ One of the highlights of the show for myself was a song from his second album ‘Human Conditions,’ which is called ‘Science of Silence.’ The song is a perfect showcase for Mr Ashcroft’s soulful, almost ad-lib sounding vocal, where he sings about living on planet earth with a hippie-esque take on the perspective of living on a spinning rock in space. The huge screen behind him during this song shows various images and culminates with a view of the earth from space and gradually zooms in until we are looking at a very close view of the venue we are watching from. This was a particularly memorable touch for this song, which I am sure he adapts to whatever city and venue he is playing in. Not one to disappoint his public Dicke also pulled out a few of the old Verve classics such as ‘Sonnet,’ ‘Lucky man,’ and ‘The Drugs Don’t Work,’ finishing in the encore with the ultimate Ashcroft moment, ‘Bittersweet Symphony.’ All in all this was a thoroughly entertaining event, with everything you would expect and hope for from a Richard Ashcroft gig. Part soul man, part indie hero, all genius.
Maximo Park
Manchster Apollo, Manchester – 6th October 2007
“Write a Review, how objective can I be?” Not very, I am afraid to say, but I shall do my best! Having been a huge Maxïmo Park fan from the very beginning, to say I was looking forward to their Manchester gig is a slight understatement. Having bored my friends stupid with my ramblings of how good they were at the Leeds Festival and how excited I was about seeing them at the Apollo, I then began to have reservations. Was I hyping them up too much and setting myself up for disappointment?! Thankfully, my fears were laid to rest as soon as Paul Smith, the rather dapper and enigmatic frontman, bounded on stage with his cohorts – Tom English on drums, Duncan Lloyd on guitar, Archis Tiku on bass and Lukas Wooler on keyboards. They open with The Coast is Always Changing, a favourite from their first album “A Certain Trigger”. The atmosphere is electric, the crowd raucous and Maxïmo Park are spurred on by this. Smith’s theatrical, yet alluring, dancing and emotionally charged vocals combine with Wooler’s frenetic keyboards, Tiku’s steady bass, English’s pounding drumming and Lloyd’s machine gun-esque guitar to demonstrate exactly why Maxïmo Park have become one of today’s more popular indie bands. This tour is in support of their recent album “Our Earthly Pleasures” and, quite rightly so, the majority of the set comprises of songs from this. A Fortnight’s Time, Girls Who Play Guitars, Your Urge, By The Monument, Karaoke Plays, Books From Boxes, Sandblasted And Set Free, The Unshockable, Parisian Skies and Our Velocity are interspersed with the best from their first album “A Certain Trigger” – Apply Some Pressure, I Want You To Stay and Going Missing. The encore begins with Acrobat, from their first album, a song some critics have described as “self-indulgent” but yet it has achieved one of the loudest cheers of the night. Russian Literature follows, before they play their very first single Graffiti – an excellent end to the evening. It’s refreshing to see a band who is as grateful to the audience for coming to see them as the crowd is for them playing. They give it their all despite the fact that this is their seventh stop on a 37 date tour. Pseudo-music snobs that I know have dismissed Maxïmo Park as a clichéd and uninspiring – I defy them to still say that once they have seen them live…
Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band
Manchester Old Trafford Stadium, Manchester – 28th May 2008
Even as I eagerly clutched my £55 ‘cheap seat’ ticket, I still felt a twinge of jealously at those who saw Bruce Springsteen at Roundhay Park twenty three years ago when Bossmania was at fever pitch. Not that I was expecting Bruce to give a poor performance, but I figured, since he was approaching 60, his energy levels would be nowhere near those displayed on the numerous vintage clips I downloaded off YouTube. How wrong could I be? “Is there anybody alive out there?” enquires the Boss of the 50,000 strong audience, many of whom typically respond with a hearty `Broooooooce’, before dispensing with my reservations with a spirited opening gambit of `No Surrender’ and recent hit, `Radio Nowhere’. The sound isn’t fantastic, initially, but that’s expected of stadium gigs. Perhaps it is down to his abstinence from the excesses that have taken their physical toll on his contemporaries that Springsteen looks frighteningly younger than his age would suggest. He wrings out every last drop of passion from his many stadium rock classics, often posing directly into the cameras that relay images to those up in the rafters. In doing this, Bruce metaphorically raises a defiant middle finger to old age. Tonight isn’t just about the bandleader but also the semi-legendary figures that make up his faithful E Street Band. ‘Miami’/‘Little’ Steven Van Zandt, the Keef to Bruce’s Mick, still looks every inch the classic street punk with his ever present bandana, his gruff soulful voice standing out wonderfully on ‘Long Walk Home’. Nils Lofgren shares a crowd walkabout with Bruce during the cheery bar room romp of ‘Darlington County’, but it’s the towering, almost regal presence of saxophonist Clarence Clemons during ‘Night’ that temporarily steals the limelight from the Boss. Although it is the ‘serious Bruce’ of ‘Nebraska’ that has endeared Springsteen to a new generation, tonight’s show is the trailblazing E Street juggernaut on eighteen wheels. The set leans heavily on recent album ‘Magic’ and the iconic `Born To Run’, but the absence of radio favourites such as `Hungry Heart’ and `Born In The USA’ disappoints one or two casuals standing nearby. In fairness, the selections cater for both the hardcore and casual followings. It would take at least five Springsteen gigs to encompass all the favourites and there’s no duds in tonight’s set anyway. There are no lengthy anecdotes tonight but Springsteen does hoist a custom made Man U shirt to a sea of boos and cheers, before amusingly demonstrating Anglo-American grammatical differences by declaring that his son “ain’t interested in football, only soccer”! For the most part, Springsteen just gets on with the job but never loses touch with his audience. He happily meets his public, collecting placards with song requests and indulging in the odd request, mostly early tracks such as ‘It’s Hard To Be A Saint In The City’ and ‘Growing Up’. Of course, the pick of the pre-`Born To Run’ selections was ‘Rosalita’, which still sounds breathtakingly massive. Even after that, the excitement continues to build, coming to a head during ‘American Land’, a Pogues-style romp that is ironically the least American track on offer. The three to four hour sets of old have now been trimmed to a comparatively lean two and a half hours. But I daresay there are many souls in the crowd that would happily continue (sorry!) ‘dancing in the dark’. ‘Totally Boss’, as that perky girl from ‘Juno’ would say.
I Am Kloot
The Deaf Institute, Manchester – 17th September 2009
I Am Kloot take to the stage on, what is essentially, the opening night of their run of shows at the Deaf Institute in Manchester, ready for business as usual. The first night was a late addition and served as a good warm up for a few intimate gigs aimed at the existing fans in their local city. As regular audience members will know, an I Am Kloot gig is never anything short of mesmerising. The 3 piece that is John Bramwell, Pete Jobson and Andy Hargreaves look their usual unperturbed selves, while they settle into familiar tracks like ‘From Your Favourite Sky,’ ‘Over My Shoulder’ and ‘Twist.’ The response from the crowd is full of the enthusiasm one would expect from a proud mother watching their son’s first performance. There is certainly an air of pride that surrounds I Am Kloot, that suggests the fans are faithful to the core and will follow them anywhere they choose to lead. The fact that the band are not more famous than they are, is all the more bewildering when you hear ‘The Same Deep Water As Me’ spiralling around the room. You truly feel you are in the presence of something haunting yet beautiful. As these gigs have been timed to coincide with the release of a B-sides album, the trio treat us to some lesser heard tracks and some new material as well. All are true to the fundamental building blocks that make every Kloot song a little gem, great melodies intertwined with thought provoking, intelligent lyrical majesty. Even during the understated ‘No Fear Of Falling,’ from their 2001 debut, the band have the audience in the palm of their hands, clinging onto every last note as if it could be the last thing they ever hear. In between songs, John Bramwell is charismatic and charming, as he banters with the crowd about how much touts were asking for outside and there is even an interval ‘for drinks’ as he cheerily announces. To witness an I Am Kloot performance is not to watch a band running through familiar songs in a regimented, rehearsed manner. It is, instead, a meeting of the faithful, who are all there to share in the knowledge that the rest of the world seems blissfully unaware of. “I Am Kloot is not a band, it’s a world. It’s an enigmatic one because it’s both brutal and charming. It’s ruthless and endearing, it’s full of contradictions and – it shifts across the sky like the weather.” (From www.iamkloot.com) I Am Kloot’s B-side collection, entitled ‘B’ will be released on October the 5th and can be pre-ordered through the band’s official website www.iamkloot.com
Field Music
The Deaf Institute, Manchester – 19th November 2009
Having rushed their set up after moving all of their equipment down the road from BBC Radio 6 headquarters you could forgive the slightly out of breath Field Music for hitting the stage later than planned. The Sunderland outfit arrive at the Deaf Institute in Manchester off the back of a two night residency on Marc Reilly’s evening show. The guru of all things musical in Manchester has an eye for relatively undiscovered talent picking up bands like The Ting Tings well before the Johnny come lately ‘new music experts’ like Zane Lowe and the fact that he’s had Field Music playing live in his studio for two nights running shows the high regard he holds them in. Packed into the ‘compact’ Deaf Institute Music Hall are a crowd of expectant locals, all eager to see what Field Music have come up with after a self-imposed hiatus since the release of their last record, Tones of Towns, in January of 2007. Not that the members of the band have been slacking, brothers David and Peter Brewis have both been involved in other projects, namely ‘School of Language’ and ‘The Week That Was’ respectively, with original third member Andrew Moore leaving to become train as a chef, something he’s now jacked in to get a ‘proper job’ according to the Brewises. With two new members on board, bassist Ian and guitarist Kev, the band are back in the recording studio putting the finishing touches to a third album expected in February 2010, some three years after their last outing. Kicking off with a couple of old tracks, including the wonderful ‘A House Is Not A Home’ the kind of quirky tune that would be at home on a record by The Bees, Field Music are in fine form joking with the crowd and giving each other stick when they make the odd mistake. Warming up they venture the odd new track and on first impression it appears that sharing a studio with fellow Sunderland boys The Futureheads has given their songs a punchier feel moving away from the whimsical towards the more familiar Mackem harmonies. On further inspection though the core sound of Field Music is still there, just refined a little, with the same selection of accompanying strings and percussion that gives each track something a little different. The pick of the new tracks for me was ‘Each Time Is A New Time’ which perfectly mixes the new and old Field Music sounds into just over 3 minutes of brilliant live music. It’s not often that on playing brand new material a crowd will do much more than nod their heads, especially when the crowd’s average age is over 30, but this tune, plus a couple more, breath life into them and has a handful even tempted to try a little ‘boogy’ beneath the over sized disco ball. The small but appreciative Dead Institute crowd laps up both the new and old as Field Music storm through the set in double quick time and, despite only get a small taste of what is to come in the next few months, one small taste is enough to tell you that when the new record is released it’ll be a worthwhile addition to any collection.
Danny and the Champions of the World
Manchester Academy, Manchester – 12th November 2010
It’s a brave man who takes on a support gig in Manchester. Nearly every gig I see there, the support is a lone troubadour, stripped of his usual band and made to play to non-fans. Danny (minus his Champions) had the unenviable job of playing solo acoustic to a hall slowly filling up with people who’d come to hear the triple-guitar southern rock of Alabama’s Drive By Truckers. His set with his band, in Leeds’ HiFi Club, earlier this year, had been so good that I’d feared for the composure of the main band (The Duke And The King, of course, strolled effortlessly to even greater heights….). Danny’s thing is big anthemic street hymns, the sort of thing Springsteen would have done if he’d grown up in London in the seventies. With a band and particularly on his second album, he achieves a depth that makes the singalong chorus inevitable. On solo acoustic, that’s not so easy….. He took tonight’s job on with the sprinter’s energy a thirty-minute set allows. His battered guitar, varnish rubbed right off around the strumming area, took more damage tonight as Danny worked his way though a selection of both albums and a Grand Drive song (the band he formed with his brother). The Springsteen-isms are in evidence tonight; the working man look of jeans, checked shirt, slicked hair and a suit jacket. He’s a solid figure and strummed hard, tilting his head back when passionate choruses hit. It was a high energy set, with just one slower, soppier song and a gentle guitar solo. It showed off his vulnerable but strong voice and then rammed the point home in a coda of Stand By Me. He tipped in a number of bits of others songs, mostly a certain Mr Springsteen (fishing for favourable comparisons, are we?), ending with dropping a song to a bare beat and breaking to a snippet of Dancing In The Dark. Songs from the second album stood out in being catchy, strong and solid. – Danny has earned his Bruce comparisons and stands as a purveyor of anthems about cars, friendship and girls – the topics we’ll always want to hear about. He got a warm reception from the gathering crowd and I’d like to think some might catch him with his band one of these days for the full experience.
Diiv
Manchester Apollo, Manchester – 21st November 2012
Watching Diiv you can’t help but feel like they’re in a world of their own, oblivious to the hundred of eyes that can’t resist but to join them in this ambient utopia they build out of delayed guitar riffs, attacking phaser and energetic thriving. Not much vocal action in the songs. However, their instrumental assault of melody is enough to keep the front row bouncing up and down to the upbeat tempos. Playing through the tracks off their new debut album, Oshin, the Brooklyn boys had the crowd rolling in from the outside bars. Opening with the first track of the album ‘Duun’, a hypnotic instrumental that had all eyes transfixed as they attempt to increase the intensity of the night. They even dived into B-side, ‘Sometimes’, the first song Smith ever wrote for the New York band. From the opening to the very last song Diiv had this unusual magnetism about them that I don’t think you could get from simply listening to them from the comfort of your home. They supply a exciting, entertaining experience with such a original sound which would have you stunned into watching them. Although on appearance you would expect the four piece to be smashing out the grunge sounds of the nighties in attempt to be an offspring of the legendary Nirvana. But instead you get an enticing melodic echo of upbeat guitar riffs. It is hard to believe that Z. Cole Smith started the band as a bedroom based project that he never thought would leave his room. Yet within a year they’re here at the Manchester Apollo opening for the Vaccines, one of the most talked about bands in the UK. Although their rapid success has not stopped them setting up their own equipment with the roadies watching by the sidelines. It is obvious how much passion goes into their music, they’ve created something unique that may not be for everyone but is definitely worth trying.
Thirty Seconds to Mars
Manchester Phones 4 U Arena, Manchester – 24th November 2013
onight there is hype around Manchester Arena for the overdue return of Thirty Seconds To Mars, who surfaced earlier this year with their new album Love, Lust, Faith + Dreams which stormed the UK rock charts to the number 1 spot. But before the Thirty Seconds To Mars hit the stage, You Me At Six have the challenge of warming up the crowd, for what is set to be an incredible show. Back in 2009 You Me At Six took the stage here at Manchester Arena supporting Paramore, having just released their second full-length album Hold Me Down. Looking slightly fragile they found it a little difficult to fill