Text by Tony Reptiles Photo by Christina Hodges

What does a city boy from England know about Bluegrass? Admittedly not too much, so having arrived at Pisgah Brewery I stood at the bar with a bottle full of beer, no preconceptions and waited for Sanctum Sully to show me the good time I had been promised. As soon as these guys hit the stage it was obvious that it was going to be rowdy rowdy show. From the get go they lived right up to the blurb on their website which promised a foot stomping show with a sound that punches you in the gut. I can tell you that their live performance does exactly what it said on the tin. I realize a review is supposed to have a set list and talk about the bluegrass scene and sound like it was written by some clever know it all muso, but that would be missing the point. Really, it would. This show wasn't about the details. (The boys on stage take care of the detail.) This show is all about the vibe; the atmosphere, the journey you are taken on. Each song comes rolling out so cleverly that once or twice it was a surprise to realize that the last song had finished and the band were now chatting with the crowd. They're that smooth.

OK, if you insist on a set list I can tell you that unless you have heard them play "Lookout Mountain" you have never lived. "Cornfed" was so rousing and cleverly arranged that it had me grinning for the rest of the evening and once I had heard them "Po Boy" I realized that I knew everything an Englishman needed to know about bluegrass. Did I mention that topping the bill was Larry Keel? He's a bluegrass legend apparently, and I thoroughly enjoyed his set too. That said, and in my own humble opinion, Sanctum Sully was a hard act to follow and only a legend would have the necessaries to do so. The crowd were rapturous when Larry joined the Sully boys on stage and I felt privileged to be in the right place at the right time and that I had witnessed something special. Boy was I spoiled with Bluegrass magic that night! Sanctum Sully are already too big for Pisgah Brewery and I can't help thinking how great they would look owning the stage headlining the Orange Peel, with a great light show, a massive PA with a few dozen screaming groupies waiting by the stage door. As it stands their show so big as to almost drown us in the snug venue we saw them in that night. They're going to be around for a long time so I recommend you go see them before their management puts a stop to the open door after-show parties.

TigerBomb
Hi Fi – Leeds - UK
Friday 1st February 2008
http://www.myspace.com/tigerbombuk

I really should have been snug warm at home with a cup of tea and a DVD, but instead I braved the near arctic Yorkshire weather to arrive at Leeds Hi Fi to see Tiger Bomb. It had been a long time since I’d been so excited about seeing a new band. I’d caught Tiger Bomb for the first time at a venue in Bradford a few days earlier and was immediately intrigued. You just can’t ignore a band with such an eclectic range of instruments. Trumpet, glockenspiel and cello all feature on their CD “Not on My Mountain� and I was eager to hear more from these guys. I wasn’t to be disappointed.

They certainly have an unusual sound, unlike anything I have heard before. To compare them to other bands for a point of reference would be misleading. They flip their style so smoothly without losing any of their own inimitable character, making me smile each time they do as I’m surprised by each clever little sweep. I don’t know how they do it! It could have something to do with the fact that most of the band are music academics and have been playing together since they were in their pre-teen years. It could be that they don’t try to fit into a predictable marketable niche. (I heard that Dan the Front-man refuses to write the catchy pop tune everyone knows he could.) It could be that these guys just really enjoy doing their own thing. Who knows? Who cares? Just keep it coming!

What really strikes me about this band is that everything they do just WORKS. The arrangement is tight and clever. They don’t overuse the trumpet or any of the keyboard effects; they are not a gimmick. It feels like we are being teased and left wanting more each time you hear them. The band’s style isn’t at all contrived but not many could pull it off as well as they do. They look good, but not as we know it. But in today’s plastic and manufactured music industry such innovation is not a marketable commodity.



Unbelievably, Tiger Bomb are not yet signed. Festival organisers don’t really know what to do with them and they are not part of the boring cliques which make up the UK music scene. It appears that for a band to be marketable they need to be part of an already popular genre and innovative bands such as Tiger Bomb are reluctant to conform. Whist the mainstream music channels are chock full of predictable greyscale banality, the really interesting artists are to be found playing small venues. All I can hope is that in a few years time I’ll be boasting about having a drink and a laugh with the guys from Tiger Bomb. These guys really deserve to make it big.

Set list below the jump.

The Punch Brothers
Bush Hall – London. England.
24th Jan 2008
http://www.myspace.com/punchbrothers

I was hoping to write this review without mentioning Nickel Creek. And I tried, I really did, but try as I might I found I simply could not resist the comparison. The band is a five piece outfit comprising Chris Thile and his mandolin, a banjo, a violin, an acoustic guitar and a double bass; all good ingredients for a country folk ensemble.



I was looking forward to some harmonic, smooth tunes laced with melancholy lyrics. I wanted a series of clever little melodies with that interesting twist a la Nickel Creek at their best. I wanted to hear the musicians blend together into something beautiful and sleek, occasionally showcasing one instrument or another in all its glory. And, at times, this is exactly what I got.

After a typically Nickel Creek-esque fiddle led instrumental first song the band broke into a real rip-roaring blue grassy track. (Wayside – Back in Time). I loved it. This was what I was here to see! Astonishingly well arranged, and it was obvious that these guys love playing together.

The vocal harmonies which introduced the next track “Heart in the Cage� further assured me that Punch Brothers were here to deliver. Out came the melancholy lyrics along with a little black humour. It seemed that they were delivering exactly what I had hoped for and, apart from the rather crazy but short mandolin solo midway through the track, I was loving every minute of it.

But I should have seen it coming. I read somewhere that the band came into being after the break up of Chris Thiles marriage. Take five musos, put them in a room with loads of alcohol and a sad story to write about, and I suppose you’ll eventually end up with a Punch Brothers set. Yes, there were flashes of brilliance. Yes, there were some unbelievably tuneful tracks. Yes I longed for a set full of these types of songs. Unfortunately five drunken musos with an axe to grind will also invariably disappear up their own arses. Or perhaps I just didn’t get it?



“Blind Leaving the Blind� was a 40 minute piece of four movements. To me it seemed to be the folk version of modern jazz, where each of the musicians seems to be playing a different song. Call me old fashioned but I do like a tune, a bit of a melody that I can follow. I wasn’t sure what to make of this long self indulgent arrangement. There were short snippets of the brilliance we had tasted in the first few songs, but these were only a tease amidst what seemed to be the results of a drunkenly self absorbed jam session. Like I say, perhaps I just didn’t get it. These guys are obviously more musically talented than I, but I found these tracks to be beyond my comprehension.

As if to reward us for sitting through the craziness we were treated to their version of Ophelia by The Band. This was a real rough ass blow out which retrieved the attention of those amongst us who had drifted elsewhere.

After the interval came more of the same. I was dazzled at times and longed for more after tracks like “How to Grow a Woman from the Ground.� So astonishingly sad it gripped me in the way all good music should. Other times I wished I had brought my iPod.

I think I was looking forward to Nickel Creek, and in places I was more than satisfied. Some tracks delivered the goods and then some. But the Punch Brothers are not Nickel Creek and if you’re expecting them to be so then you will be disappointed in places and overjoyed in others.

And I think that about sums up the evening.

The Dirty Cherubs
MySpace
The Maze – Nottingham UK
September 10, 2007

The night started early as Ms TR and I rolled into The Maze in Nottingham to see one of her workmates play. Apparently it was a rock band and apparently they were pretty good, by her estimations anyway. I’m always wary of going to see mates' bands as you usually see them before they actually get to be any good. Don’t get me started on the amount of time and money I’ve spent watching god awful bands in god awful hell holes, just cos a friend has been on stage.

So it is my relief and pleasure to announce that I had a really great evening, and for more reasons than one. First, I was really impressed with the venue. I’d never even heard of the Maze before, and found it to be a great little venue. It markets itself well as a small local venue, and their list of shows included some great bands such as 90s favourites RDF. For a venue to actively invite bookings from local bands is a rarity, given how difficult it is in the UK for bands to get decent gigs in a venue of this quality. The sound there is pretty good given the rig they have and it’s well set out with seating and dance floor space, plus a mezzanine to ensure everyone gets a great view. Decent bar and friendly staff makes the package pretty much complete, the only drawback being able to find decent parking.

The second cool thing of the night was the support band, Left of the Dealer I’m arranging to review and photograph this band at a gig in the near future, so watch this space. I’d like to see this urban funk outfit and give them my full attention as they have the potential to become one of my favourite bands ever! I’ve not stopped playing the mp3s their singer Tommy sent to me. Check out their myspace for a taste.

But on to the main attraction. I really did enjoy the Dirty Cherubs. Having met lead singer Dave Capel at the bar before he hit the stage, I was a little concerned that his vocals would be shite. With a thick Scottish accent and half a bottle of whisky inside him, I couldn’t understand a bloody word he said. However, as he took the stage the pissed up porriger turned into some kind of rock god as he belted out the vocals and hit all of the high notes with some style. In barefeet and shades he makes a great front man and poster boy, and has just the kind of image every rock band should have. His guitarist is archetypal rock axe-man type who looks like he’s gonna knock you out, drink your beer and shag your girlfriend. Dropping off stage into the crowd during his solos was just what I expected and he didn’t let me down. The drummer looks like he robs people for fun.

Describing their sound is easy. Think Aerosmith, ACDC and the RHCP. Cool as fuck and totally rock and roll. Screaming air guitar hairbrush classics and sexy smooth rock ballads are the order of the day and the Dirty Cherubs deliver exactly what is says on the tin. Their style is very formulaic, but that’s far from being any kind of criticism at all when you look at the brand. I love their style and they deliver the genre right on the button. Say what you like about your typical Rock God act, pretend that you really prefer cleverly produced musical geniuses, but you all know it’s like comparing a Charles Dickens novel to Hustler magazine. You’d never admit it, but one is a whole lot more satisfying than the other.

Their single recently got to No 1 in the UK indie charts. To be perfectly honest I can’t wait for an album, because they have several tracks which are as good, if not better than this first release. I need to seriously think about growing my hair again, I’m gonna need it for their next gig.

A vid clip under the jump.

New York Alcoholic Anxiety Attack
The Vic Inn, Derby, UK
19/09/07
http://www.myspace.com/NewYorkAlcoholicAnxietyAttack

New York Alcoholic Anxiety Attack (NYAAA) are, in more ways than one, already too big for the grimy black hell hole that is the Vic Inn. Their sound certainly expands to fill the tiny room, but I can't help thinking how great they'd be in say, the London Astoria or Manchester Academy. In the Vic they prowl the stage like tigers in a cage and the intensity of their performance almost chokes us in such a confined space.

Their sound is described in their blurb as "Beautiful Art Rock," which sounded a bit arty farty for my liking, but afterwards, sweaty and impressed, I had to agree. NYAAA are three young guys from Bradford creating real rock music, which is exploding on the Northern English music scene, shattering the tight little clique of desperately quirky Kaiser Chief wannabes and Twiglet-shaped emos.

NYAAA are physical, in the athletic, whirling presence of bassist Matt Graham, the big, heavy drum sound of Tom Bairstow and the gladiatorial figure of front man Mik Davis, all tattoos and bare chest, who appears to be picking up where Jim Morrison let off. Song after song reveal the craft behind the art - "We Are The Chosen" is a garage anthem than would suit bad-gal Amy Winehouse, and the powerfully passionate "Father's Eyes" begs for a huge production, if not pyros and waving banners. If you read reviews like this with a pinch of salt, just check out the comments on their myspace. I rest my case.

NYAAA will be around a long, long time --they are indeed what a young fan described them to me as "a proper band." Catch them while you can afford the ticket price.

I Hate Sally
http://www.myspace.com/ihatesally
Camden Palace, London, UK
Saturday 14 April 2007

To quote the lead singer of Hayseed Dixie, “A person who only listens to one kind of music ain’t any guy I wanna drink any beer with.� And I’m all in agreement with that, I really am. My CD collection is testament to that and no one could accuse me of being narrow-minded. However, when Clint asked me to review I Hate Sally, one of his “favourite new bands,� I knew I had a problem. You see, Clint and I have very different tastes in music. I like the guy and I respect him highly, but I just don’t dig all of his tunes. Going to see a band on his recommendation would always be something of an experience.

A quick look at their website confirmed my guess that I Hate Sally are seriously metal, more metal than my delicate little palate is used to. I knew this was going to be a difficult review to write and I needed to come up with a plan. If I wasn’t the right person to write the review then perhaps I should ask someone more qualified. I decided to start with the people in the room.

“Its very……..rock and roll isn’t it?�
“It’s noise, but I like it.�
Zac H. – aged four.

“Sounds like a bloody zoo on fire.�
John H. – stockbroker.

It seemed I needed a better plan, but. undeterred. I decided to continue my interviews at the gig. At least I’d be guaranteed a more discerning crowd. After the gig I collared a couple of punters at the bar and asked them for their views.

I feel I should warn you guys about the dangers of folk music. You may feel, like I once did, that you would never be stupid enough to get into folk. I mean, we’ve all seen those sad bearded fools delirious on the joys of hard accordion, and thought “I’ll never let that happen to me!�

Well, I’m here to tell you. It can happen. It happened to me.

I started off as many rock folk do, y’know a bit of New Model Army, a couple of Levellers' albums. It’s not really “folk,� I told myself. It’s so heavy! I thought I could handle it. I thought I could keep it under control. Then before I knew it, I was enjoying a regular dose of Kate Rusby and downloading Nick Drake albums. It took me a while before I admitted to myself I was hooked.

My name is Tony Reptiles and I have a folk music habit.

There. I said it. And it feels good!

So when the new CD by Roddy Woomble landed in my mailbox, I thought I was saved. Roddy is the lead singer of Scottish rock band Idlewild, which is well known for their loud, abrasive,punk rock sound. “No folk fix here, then!� I thought.

I should have known better by the picture on the sleeve. “FECK OFF!!!!� he seems to be saying from beneath his beard and thick knit beanie hat. Sorry Roddy, here, have a beer! You’re alright you are! You’re my best mate you are!

I slipped the CD into the machine and sat down with the media notes. Then it hit me. This was folk, alright. Another smooth mellow hit of folk. I eased back into my seat as the fiddle and the accordion took hold of me again.

Although the last few Idlewild albums kind of leaned in this direction, this solo project is something more traditional. “These are songs that would never have lived with Idlewild, but are very much a part of me," says Roddy in the media notes. “I felt like I was part of a new band. This allowed me to feel free to describe myself in a way I’ve wanted to for a long time……and I think it shows.�

The album was two tracks in when I caught myself tapping my foot. “As still as I watched your grave� is a meaty, beaty track where you can still get a sniff of the Roddy’s rock roots. (Should you indeed wish to?) “Whiskyface� is an acoustic fiddle-battering tune that left me wanting more.

But most of this album is pretty mellow and acoustic, and blends into the background easily. I like that in an album. I found myself enjoying the smoothness without having to try too hard. “Waverly steps� would be at home on commercial radio with its melodic vocals and electric guitar. I think I can hear a single release here.

You would certainly need a folk leaning to enjoy this album in its entirety, but I think you should give it a try. There’s something here for discerning the listener and you’ll catch yourself enjoying it - if you can get over the fact that it's folk. There are some great melodies and some excellent musicians at work. They just happen to be a bit folky, that’s all.

Track list after the jump.

Motorhead
imotorhead.com
Also: Clutch
Thursday Nov. 19, 2006
Rock City
Nottingham, UK

“WE ARE MOTORHEAD – AND WE PLAY ROCK AND ROLL!�

I’d waited a long time to see these guys although I can’t explain why. My mate Dan has been a big fan for a long time, and so I should have tripped over a gig with him long ago. The guy even has a Motorhead tattoo, for heaven’s sake!

Having bought tickets for this gig some months ago, I was a bit disappointed when it looked like we might not be able to go. See, Dan went and got his missus pregnant, and guess when her due date was? Not only that, but she was having twins, and they generally make an appearance early. Going to a gig and leaving her home alone was clearly a bad move, so we had to hatch a plan. Eventually it was agreed that my girlfriend would keep Juliet company, whilst Dan and I went to Nottingham Rock City. Sorted, so long as Juliet kept her legs crossed.

The support band, Clutch, was damn good, and I’ll be checking out their stuff for sure. I particularly enjoyed “Sea of Destruction� and perhaps you will too. In the meantime here’s a link to their site so you can listen to them for yourself. http://www.pro-rock.com

I tried my poxy little camera to see if I would likely get any shots of the main act, but soon realised that it was about as useful as a fishnet condom. I managed to check it at the cloakroom but I was worried about letting it out of my sight. After all, Nottingham is the crime capital of the UK.

Getting back near the front turned into a mission as the place had filled up to capacity plus. I’ve been to Rock City many times before but never seen it this full. Indeed, we met a guy who had done the whole tour and it seems they had crammed much bigger venues to the rafters too. The stage security guys were handing out bottles of water before the gig had even started. As the natives became increasingly restless, I was glad when the lights dimmed to announce their arrival on stage:

“GOOD EVENING - WE ARE MOTORHEAD - AND WE PLAY ROCK AND ROLL!�

And boy did they! They kicked off with “Dr Rock,� a standard opener since the 80s, but the crowd still predictably went wild. There was beer and water all over the dance floor and people were landing on their arse left right and centre. Dan and I stood at the edge of the pit and waited for the kids to tire themselves out a bit and took the opportunity to watch the band. I wouldn’t have expected any different from Lemmy and Co, and to their credit the band seemed to be giving it some! We slurped our water through the next track, grinning at each other whilst deflecting flying bodies from the pit.

“Is it fuckin’ loud enough?� said Lemmy?

“NNNNNNNOOOOOOO,� said we.
“Shall we fuckin’ turn it up?� he replied.

“Yes!!!!!�

So he did.

And that was the last clear thing I heard anyone say until lat the next day. Rock City is a mid size venue with a 2000-plus capacity. They had enough volume to fill Wembley Stadium, if indeed it still stood. Even the banter in between songs was incomprehensible; probably a combination of the sheer volume, my perforated eardrums, and Lemmy’s pissed up slurring.

They banged out some tunes I knew from my wayward youth, such as “Killed By Death,� “Stay Clean,� and “I Got Mine.� “Sacrifice� still sounded awesome mid-set: Mikkey Dee’s drum solo has been slotted in here for some years now, but his brilliant playing never ceases to impress.

There were also a couple I recognised from the newer albums that Dan had played at dinner. “Killers� and “Sword of Glory� proved that the newer material is just as worthy as the early classics. Thin Lizzy’s “Rosalie,� played as a tribute to Phil Lynott, was also a welcome inclusion.

I particularly liked “Whorehouse Blues� from last year’s Inferno LP, as did the rest of the crowd. This stripped-down acoustic blues number provided a welcome respite from the full-on signature heavy rock and roll live fare. It did need to be heard live to be appreciated.

I was glad of the rest when the band left the stage before the encore. Dan and I congratulated ourselves on our performance in the pit, but we were well and truly knackered. I was sweating like Michael Jackson’s paperboy and smelt like the inside of a Slipknot mask. The second round of free water was much appreciated.

I realise it is a cliché and I realise that Motorhead have done some great stuff both before and since, but everyone wants to hear “Ace of Spades.� I wasn’t disappointed. Lemmy introduced it in what seemed to be a resigned fashion, but as soon as the riff kicked in all hell broke loose. They didn’t hold back and gave everyone what they wanted to hear. When it was over I felt like I should roll over, fart and light a cigarette. I was spent.

We listened to the first few minutes of “Overkill,� the perennial set-closer, before heading for the exit in an attempt to beat the rush. We knew the car parks were heaving and everyone would be headed for the M1, just like us. Two hours and 100 miles later I crawled into bed next to my girlfriend. As my head hit the pillow all I could hear was a high pitched EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

She muttered something that I made her repeat twice before I rolled over to try to sleep.

Next morning we expressed our disappointment, as Juliet had not given birth in the night. Spoilsport! That evening I lay in bed, a good 24 hours after the gig had finished. My girlfriend rolled over and said something in my ear, but all I could hear was

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

“Huh?� I grunted.

Bloody tinnitus!

Thanks to Dan for his input and to Juliet for her hospitality, not to mention the picture of her husband’s hairy breast.

This week I have been mostly ... driving into lamp-posts.

Having just got my decrepit old 1971 MG Midget back on the road, I thought now would be the time. The car is a bit like my girlfriend - unreliable, expensive to maintain, makes too much noise, and smells really weird, but beautiful, and I love being inside it.

Anyway.

Now that I’m back on the road, I thought I needed some tunes. Shit! After an hour of shuffling and burning I only came up with my ultimate road rage album. If I’m dead soon you’ll know why. Strap yourself in; this is gonna be one hell of a ride.

1. Offspring – Bad Habit
Well, what else was this compilation gonna start with, you stupid, dumshit goddamned mother fucker? Even the intro gets adrenalin my pumping. Possibly the archetypal road rage track.

Drop a gear when you hear – “When I go driving I stay in my lane!�

2. Rage Against the Machine – Killing in the Name

The soundtrack to many a dance-floor punch up. Starts slow but makes your foot twitch as you feel it build up.

Drop a gear when you hear – “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!�

3. New Model Army – 125mph

Heavy and hard Heaton drumming at its best. When the boys played it live, you saw the pit swell, eyes grow wild and wide, and fists clench. Poor bastards didn’t now what hit 'em.

Drop a gear when you hear – “I’m heading North, I’m heading home. Doing 125!�

4. Prodigy – No Good

Oh god! This track just makes my eyes bleed! Each time the beat kicks in, I’m stamping on the pedal so hard I think it’s going through the floor pan! It should be against the law to play The Prodigy in your car. I’d drive better if I was drunk. Oh shit……..it’s building again!

Drop a gear when you hear – anything you like. It drops in so often.

5. Aphrodite – Heat Haze

An instrumental that takes you on a journey, whether you like it or not. A phat bass and frantic drum machine make you want to corner sideways. Try not to punch the windscreen with your face.

Drop a gear when you hear – “Yeah….yeah…..yeah….yeah…..YEAH!!!!!!!!!!�

6. Limp Bizkit – Take a Look Around

The theme to Mission Impossible II. I used a remixed version of this as my walkon music when I was boxing. The drum beats drop in like a heavyweight journeyman. Killer!

Drop a gear when you hear “Now I know why you wanna hate me. Cos hate is all the world has even seen lately.�

7. Pop Will Eat Itself- Not Now James, We’re Busy

UK’s Stourbrige grebo rockers. I used to roadie for these fellas, and they were pretty big on the UK indie/punk. If you missed out, you missed out. This one’s a spoof account of the godfather of soul’s famous police chase. At least you’ll be smiling on the stretcher.

Drop a gear when you hear “Mrs, Brown you got a lovely son, but he’s on the run on a shotgun mission!�

8. Motorhead - Ace of Spades

Where would we be without a bit of Lemmy? If I have to tell you why this is on here, you shouldn’t be here.

Drop a gear when you hear – the guitar kick in.

9. Dust Junkies – Nothing Personal

Gritty UK rock/rap, but they’d rob Linkin’ Park and then set fire to them. The lead singer looks like he wants to cut you. Think Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Think Lenny MeClean. Think about walking in the opposite direction if you ever meet these guys.

“Drop a gear when you hear – “l’ll cut you straight up and down if you think you’re hard enough!�

10. Soundgarden – Jesus Christ Pose

A religious theme seems to be developing. (See below.) No wonder I feel angry as hell when this tune kicks in. Chris must have been having a really bad day. So will anyone who cuts me up while this is banging out. I have a complete disregard for my personal safety when this tune kicks in.

Drop a gear when you hear – “But you're staring at me like I need to be…… saved�

11. Ministry - Jesus Built My Hotrod

Soon I discovered this rock thing was true. Jerry Lee Lewis was the Devil. Jesus was an architect previous to his career as a prophet. All of a sudden I found myself in love with the world, so there was only one thing I could do, ding a ding dang my dangalong ling long.

Drop a gear when you hear…… too late!

So, what are you guys trashing cars to? I’m expecting a lot of thrash and the like but I wonder if there’s anything a bit less obvious that I have missed?

Let me know so I can add it on and take it for a test drive.

Ray Wiley Hubbard
The Borderline, Soho
London, UK
1 August 2006

Writing for this blog has been good for me. Being based in the UK means I miss out on some of the more interesting stuff from the US, and here I get an opportunity to catch up a little. Reading Cindy’s review of David Allen Coe is a good example; it sent me straight to allofmp3 to get hold of his albums. So, armed with my newfound love of Americana, I was pleased when Jeff asked me if I would like to review Ray Wiley Hubbard at the Borderline Club in Soho, London. I agreed, despite vowing never to set foot in Soho again after I woke up one morning to find I was missing £300 and had only a leopard-skin thong and a photo of a naked girl with a face like a bag of slapped arses to show for it. Damn that strip joint! Making a mental note to stick to the remit, Dawn and I headed for Soho.

We arrived at the Borderline early to be met by Ray’s wife Judy as he himself was finishing up his sound-check. I couldn’t help but notice that the kid on stage with Ray was considerably younger and looked more like he should be in System of a Down. Turns out the kid was Ray and Judy’s son Lucas; and he could play too! After some quick hellos we set off to eat and chat at a restaurant near the club. Getting kicked out of the local metal bar, the Crowbar, was cool, even if it was only because they have a no kids policy. Getting kicked out of the Crowbar takes some doing!

It seems I have much to learn about Americana. Apparently, owning Kenny Rogers' Greatest Hits and knowing the words to “Wichita Lineman� aren’t enough to impress Ray, and so he promptly set about educating me. (I’m just getting round to looking up James McMurtry and Cross Canadian Ragweed.) I figured I should listen up, given the look on his face when I mentioned Kenny Rogers, but Ray continued to humour me, despite my faux pas. Dawn and Ray had some common ground, having both worked with Lee Rocker from the Stray Cats which seemed to restore his faith. Inevitably the conversation soon focused on the good old rock and roll topics of snakes, tattoos and more rock and roll.

The title track on Ray’s latest album Snake Farm honours a herper called Ramona who runs the joint. She sounds just like my kind of girl considering we both have tattoos and a love of the Alarm. However, Ray assures me she is just a fictional character, much to my disappointment. I was looking forward to showing her my tattoo of a python constricting a mouse, just like the one she apparently has. Ray himself made a relatively late entrance into the world of tattooing, getting inked only recently after losing a bet with a friend. He proudly rolled up his sleeve to show me his tattoo of a boa, similar to the ones on the cover of the Snake Farm album. Cool ink Ray, perhaps you could post a pic on our tattoo photo forum. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?

The Borderline is a smallish venue that was thankfully not over-packed for the gig. Around a hundred people meant that we could still make our way comfortably to the bar without having to manhandle people out of the way. We’d missed the first support, Linda McLean but arrived just in time to see Jason McNiff play his melancholy set. I was impressed enough to buy his CD so I’ll post a review soon. Watch this space. Also supporting was the comical Darden Smith, again, well worth a peek for Americana fans.

At last Ray took the stage and after a brief banter and howdy, launched into his set. As a newcomer to the genre I didn’t really know what to expect. I’m a frequent victim of one hit wonder artists and regularly buy albums on the strength of one song, only to be disappointed by the rest of the disk. I’d heard a few of Ray’s tracks but I couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of his material was of the same calibre. A couple of tracks later I had my answer. Ray sounded just like I thought he oughta and he certainly seemed to be enjoying enjoy himself as much as we all were. With his guitar taped up with gaffer tape he cursed Delta Airlines every time he had to re-tune. What I found really outstanding, thoug,h were his lyrics. For example, I was particularly amused by “Mississippi Flush,� which is apparently a winning poker hand involving “a revolver and any five cards.� “Ruby red lips and liquid hips� is a phrase I will be using myself at some point soon, too, all credits to Ray of course!

I was really getting into it when Dawn crossed the floor to whisper in the ear of a pissed up couple who were talking loudly in front of the stage. Not one to suffer fools gladly she wasn’t gonna stand this rude and off-putting behaviour. Ray is just too nice to tell them to shut the fuck up, but Dawn is less reserved. I remember hoping that they didn’t back-chat her cos she’d threatened to drag them out of there so fast they got whiplash. She could and she would too! They soon piped down and so it was on with the show. “Crimson Dragon Tattoo� was a particular favourite of mine, especially considering it was “dedicated to Tony, a snake farmer I know!� Time for another round at the bar I thought! “Last Train to Amsterdam� was another blinder from the set. I’ll have to find out which CD it’s on, although I think I may just keep collecting his CDs until I find it.

Soon it was time for the boy wonder to take the stage. Lucas stepped up with confidence and played accompaniment and a solo, finishing to tumultuous applause. “That was for both of us, you know, boy!� said Ray as the applause died down. Lucas just grinned and raised an eyebrow in that way only kids can. The boy was far too cool and unfazed for a 12 year old. Shit, when I was his age I was still playing marbles. Ray looked suitably proud as they saw out the rest of the set together. I hope the kid gets paid. He deserved it.

The set rolled on and over me, much to my approval. I’d come to the gig wanting to enjoy myself, but very conscious of the fact that as a rank amateur, it could all have gone over my head. I was aware that although I thought Ray was a cool guy, this is a review site, not a fan club and so I would write my account honestly. I’m pleased to say that Ray delivered everything I’d hoped for and more.

As a final note I’d recommend you all check out his website. It’s one of the coolest sites I’ve seen and the animated story about the dog at his gig in the seventies had me pissing my pants. Live and die rock 'n' roll!

Ray Wiley Hubbard Concert Photos

Kate Rusby
http://www.katerusby.com/
Sunday July 2, 2006
Alban Arena(St Albans, UK)
Kate Rusby Tour Schedule

“My stern gland needs greasing!� I said as Vic sat down next to us. Her eyes rolled as she realized that she would need to explain the remark to the rest of our clueless group.

“It’s his boat!� she said. “He needs some work done on his boat.�

Vic’s fella Andy used to work in a boatyard and was the ideal person to sort out my stern gland issues. I was hoping he would be at the party too but apparently he was away on tour.

“Who with?� I asked.

“Kate Rusby,� she replied, waiting for me to admit that I had never heard of her.

“Never heard of her,� I said.

“Folk music mate, not your thing,� she scolded.

“Hey, I have an eclectic musical taste I’ll have you know!� I retorted.

“Turin Brakes and a Mozart box set do not make an eclectic musical taste,� said Vic.

She had a point.

As it turned out Kate Rusby would be appearing on my doorstep at the end of that very week, at The Alban Arena in St Albans. After a couple of phone calls back and forth the deal was sealed. Not only would Andy come to my aid on the boat, but I could go to the gig with him that evening. It would be rude not to do a review at the same time.

Typing her name into Google I was feeling lucky, and it took me directly to the Kate Rusby website.

Kate was pretty without a doubt, and not at all like the cider soaked folk singer I had expected. She’d been around for a while too, having several albums and a live DVD available on the site along with a string of awards and accolades. I listened to a couple of streamed song snatches and checked out her biography. Hailing from Barnsley in the North of England, I was sure she was going to sound like something from Rita, Sue and Bob Too.

That Sunday, with my stern gland freshly greased, we set of to the venue. Kate was already there when we arrived. Sitting eating a biscuit in the dressing room, she was shorter than I had imagined.

“Are you that boat boy Andy went to see?� she asked as Andy and I walked in, rolling a strong but incredibly smooth northern English accent.

“Yeah I am; you must be Kate, thanks for the pass.� I replied.

“No problem.� she smiled and pointed at the teapot. “Grab a cuppa.�

Soon it was time for sound-check. I tagged along and sat in the wings. I dunno why, but I had no idea that Andy would actually be a performer. (All of my other mates in the industry are techs or sound engineers or lampies, and I’d assumed Andy would be the same.) As he stood there with his button accordion I began to get a feeling of where the night was headed. This was real folk music, all but the beards and real ale. I stayed to hear Andy’s squeezebox sound-check and then followed him back to help drink the rider.

As showtime approached I chatted with the band through the underground rabbit warren of corridors leading to the stage and auditorium. As I approached the stage I was collared by the tour manager. “I’ll get you a seat in the auditorium,� he said as I realized I had probably overstayed my welcome, what with just minutes to go before the show opened.

The auditorium was full for a sold out show so as the first song was almost done I pulled up a seat in the aisle next to a pillar.

I liked festivals, when I was 25. Spending a long weekend wasted was cool back then but nowadays the recovery period is far too elongated. The only time I’ll go to festivals now is if I’m working and so that’s how I ended up at T–in the Park in Scotland.

A mate of mine has a stall selling festival hats and t-shirts etc and needed me along to drive and look after the stall.

“Who’s playing,� he said.
“Yeah, I was gonna ask you who was playing.�
�No, Who’s playing!� he said.
“I dunno, I was asking you!� I replied.
“Forget it!� he said.

After spending 11 hours driving up there, three days setting up the stall and two days dragging pissed up Scots back onto the stall to pay for their “goods,� I was knackered. However, I was looking forward to the last act of the last day and had booked the time off. Bring on the Who!

I regrettably missed the Chillies, Arctic Monkeys and the Zutons, all of whom bust out great sets which could be heard from our pitch between the two main stages. In retrospect, I wish I had got down there. The Who however are one of those bands you have to say you have seen, it’s like “Yeah, I’ve seen Buckingham Palace, I’ve seen England play at Wembley and I’ve seen the Who.� Job done.

By the time I got there the main stage was packed. I tried to make my way a bit closer, but even the back of the crowd was packed out with certainly the biggest crowd of the whole festival. The TV footage apparently showed members of all of the other bands who had stayed back to see the Who. These guys are truly legends, especially the dead ones.

It soon became clear why I don’t like watching bands at festivals or indeed stadium rock.

I had “pissed up twat falling all over me.�

I had “cigarette burn to the back of my neck� from dick head behind me.

“Vomiting fuckwit� was fun too, as was “Oi! You’re in my way I can’t see.�

THERE’S 35,000 PEOPLE HERE AND YOU’RE 5 FOOT 2. OF COURSE YOU CAN’T SEE! PISS OFF!

However, the highlight was the bottle of warm amber liquid that landed on the lass next to me. Thankfully I only suffered minor splash-age.

Oh, yeah, sorry. The Who were playing, weren’t they. I was up for a great time, I really was. “Can’t Explain� started the set well and got people moving slightly. By the time “Won’t Get Fooled Again� was underway I was screaming at the top of my voice and caught myself doing that “fist in the air� stadium rock thing. What was I doing???!!!! Any attempts to dance were met with a disapproving look from those next to me in the crowd. They were gonna hate it when I started to spin my air guitar arm Townsend-style! Liven up for fuck sake!

After that things went downhill. Yeah, they banged out the classics – “Who Are You?�, “Pinball Wizard,� “Substitute,� and “My Generation� all got air-time and were ace live. These guys are good! Even the replacements such as Townsend’s son Simon seemed to gel seamlessly. The performances, though, were slightly diluted by how they dragged out each decent song with a 15 minute reprise. Sorry, but this just leaves me standing.

While the guy in front of me jumped up and down with his rucksack clocking me under the chin I felt it was time for me to leave. Yeah, The Who are damn good, I don’t think that they were the reason I was left frustrated. I just don’t think I’m made for this festival/stadium rock thing. Like it says in my profile, if there are 35,000 people there then it’s probably not gonna blow my skirt up. I think I would have enjoyed this gig more from the back, dancing on my own like a loon. The songs built me up but there was no vent, no chance to let loose. Gimme a small venue any day. At least you don’t get pissed up Scottish chav women squatting down next to you to take a piss. Please!

New Model Army
Thursday 25th May 2006
The Concorde II Club
Brighton - England

Ok, so I've been a New Model Army fan for some 20 years now. Going to see them is nothing new having toured with them almost every year. (Both here and across Europe.) I pretty much know what to expect. Although I do sometimes talk about giving it up and only going to hometown gigs I somehow always get roped in.

As the tour approaches I get increasingly frequent phone calls from others following around the country, checking that I'm gonna be at heir hometown gig, do I need a crash, can they stay at mine, do I fancy sharing petrol costs to the Shetlands, that kind of thing. Then before I know it I'm doing the whole tour.

This tour has followed a much similar recipie to all of the others. Arrive in a town sometime in the afternoon. Get some food and find the pub where everyone is meeting. It’s not always the closest pub. Often the town hosts have a favourite pub they use and it becomes a mission to find the crew. Sometimes we arrange to hook up with the band, (who are by now friends of ours) and we watch a match, like we did in Norwich for the Leeds/Watford game. This is usually a good opportunity to buy the guys drinks as a thank you for guest list places.

Anyway, Thursdays gig in Brighton Concorde 2 started like many others. We arrived in Brighton with Big Bill and managed to park on the sea front. After a quick bite to eat we soon found the crew in the Heist pub and started the customary consumption of alcohol. Come 8.30 we reckoned the support band had finished and we headed for the venue. Tommy Tee is behind the merch stall as we jump the queue and get out of the rain. Guest list places ROCK!

A few hellos to the stragglers and the people whose face you know from years of gigging but have yet to build a relationship with. The front of the venue near the stage starts to fill up with the eager locals and a few of the big faces from the following. Me and a few of the others stay near the Merch stall with Tommy Tee, waiting for the kids to tire themselves out and for one of the old songs to be played. Only then will we make an appearance en mass at the front.

The longer I follow this band, the less songs I know. I haven't played the new albums as much as I still do the old ones. I'm not the same guy I was 20 years ago and the new songs are much different nowadays. The old tracks bring back memories and are linked to some very strong emotions, to some special people and to a time ion my youth when things were very different. The old songs take me back to those times.

I know the set list starts with a few new tracks. I personally use this time to watch the band on stage as there is no chance to do this when in the pit later. (I remember years ago when Jez, the lead singer shaved off his long hair. It was halfway through the set till we noticed!) Stood at the back with Speedy, Dawn, Danny and Bernie I try to neck my beer before they play "Here Comes the War!" which is our cue. The tension rises in increments as we pace around, catching each others eye and smiling. "Want some of this?" I ask Speedy, offering my beer, which he takes and skulls in a mouthful.

Then the drums started, the heavy dull beat which for the band is the intro and gives Jez some time to swap guitars. The boys at the back take off our shirts revealing trademark tattoos. Suddenly there seem to be a dozen faces heading towards the front from different places in the venue. Nod stern hellos at some of the part time faces and arrive in the heaving, sweaty pit to catch the eye of the boys. It's going to go.

Anyone who has been to a New Model Army gig knows it is rough. Not as bad as it used to be, I mean, we are all getting a bit old now and can't go to work with Black eyes and fat lips. I remember Dr Joan (who is a GP) ended up with a black eye after every tour for about 6 years running. Poor lass. Speedy is a stock broker, Dawn is a financial advisor and I ran healthclubs, so not the alternative lifestyles which would tolerate such battle wounds. I'm glad it is less extreme now as there are less real fights at the front, and I always hated that.

It would usually be some local with a reputation as a "Hardcore NMA fan" who would want to stamp his authority on the gig. The music is pumped full of adrenalin and bravado and the kid would want to show everyone who was boss. Unfortunately the following are usually a good 30 strong (more in the old days) and so picking a fight with one of us is just stupid. Usually it would be Bill or I who would put a stop to it, hopefully before Jed noticed. That usually got messy.

As "War" kicks in the pit goes mad. The lightweights usually end up on their arse or make fast exits. There's usually a suprisingly handy local lass giving her all, trying to stay with it. So the boys go easy and make sure she stays upright and doesn't get nailed by one of the try-hards. This gig it was a really pretty skinhead girl from Holland who I have seen before. I'm just nodding my hello when I feel a "Whack!" in my jaw.

There in the middle of the pit is this dread youth with a Thunder and Consolation knot tattooed on his back. I see him head towards Bill with his elbows at head height and hope that Bill gives him some leeway. He does, the kid splits his lip with a very inconsiderately placed elbow. This is not good. As the song continues the kid gets a couple of hefty shoves that send him across the dance-floor and sprawling on his back or face. This usually ensures they get the message and they tone it down a bit, but this boy is a bit stupid. Bill catches my eye, so does Baby Bill. Dawn shakes here head 'cos she's seen this before. The boy comes back at Bill with venom and malice. He only gets halfway there as I catch his ponytail and pull him towards me. Dawn steps over and starts whispering in the pretender's ear and Bill, Speedy, Justin, Danny and some guy we call Freddy Boswell stand around looking like they want to eat his kidney. I've still got a handful of dreads and he's going nowhere, despite some effort.

The song finishes and we all stand around, waiting for the youth to throw a punch. He doesn't and retreats to the sidelines where his friends are standing at a safe distance. The next couple of songs are ballards so we don't see him for a while. We get chance to catch our breath and some of the lads have a fag. I'm watching the boy and his buddies, checking their facial expressions, watching them point. Bill wipes the blood from his still bleeding lip and raises his eyebrows. The intro to “The Hunt� comes on. If it's gonna go, it's gonna go now. "Not to ‘The Hunt’," I think, "That's a mistake."

The boy steps in, followed by two of his mates. We stand there and look at him, coiled and ready. Why does this have to happen? Why don't people just play nicely? He walks over to Bill and offers his hand. Then he turns to me and says "Sorry mate." in a thick Dublin accent "We just came all the way from Dublin for this one gig. We just get a bit excited you know."

"No worries mate, but I like my teeth where they are."

"Sorry mate, we're cool yeah?"

"Yeah, what's your name?"

"George."

"I'm Tony and that's Bill."

"Let's have some fun, yeah?"

"Yeah"

And the rest of the gig goes off without incident. It's rough, almost as bad as the old days. George and Co hold their own in the pit with the faces, giving as good as they get. Yeah, he caught me with a couple of stray shots, but he did the right thing and apologised. We pick up the fallen and smile at the girls on the outskirts. This is how it should be; a big outpouring of adrenalin, testosterone and bravado but without the need for any stupidness. This is why I love this band.

Aideen comes into the pit with a few bottles of water as the band churn out a couple of slow tracks, giving us time to recover. I pass one to George and we chat about a mutual friend in Dublin. “I wouldn't have cracked you if I knew you were a mate of Martin's!" he joked. As “125mph� starts up we know rest time is over and it's down to business again.

After the gig we stand around comparing war wounds and stories. The bouncers try to kick us out, but we have after-show passes, and get a couple for George and his crew. Tommy moans about having to find our t-shirts from behind the merch stall as usual so Silke passes him a Becks. He shuts up and counts the stock. Not a bad night by the looks of it; rolls of cash held in his hand as he does the load out. We all watch out for him, remembering our swag friend Darryl who was shot and mugged in South Africa. Not that we could do much, but it is on the front of everyone's minds, although it remains unspoken.

As the last of the crowd peel away the band come out and chat with some of the faces. I pass Micheal a bottle of Baileys which Dawn and I bought him as a thank you for our guest list places. Baileys, very rock and roll Micheal, very rock and roll. Mark from the Levellers appears, with Brighton being his hometown gig. He invites us to a friends bar for a lock in. Tommy Tee stipulates a 2am road time. We all laugh, knowing it's never gonna happen.

"You gonna come George?" I ask.

"Is that cool?"

"Yeah, sure, follow us."

"Are you the lad who bust Bill’s lip?" asks Dean, the keyboard player.

"Errrr."

"He only weighs as much as your leg Bill, you're turning into a girl in your old age," he laughs at Bill.

"Fuck off!" says Bill, all 19 stones of him. "Don't take the piss, I beat anorexia."

At the bar it is three o'clock before we leave. Warren pulls the tour bus us outside the front window and flashes his full beams at us inside, while Tommy Tee tries to round up the band. "I'm not leaving says Nelson. You're fired then!" says Tommy. "Get on the bus, there's beer on there."

Dawn has a similarly tough task trying to round up the boys for her car. Bless here for staying sober and driving us on the whole tour! I know there is a bottle of JD back on my boat and that it will not see the morning. Sure enough, come 7am its gone and we all find a space to crash. Dawn gets the bed cos she's driving; I end up in the galley with my head next to Bill, who snores.

George and his boys left for the airport as we said goodbye at the bar. We have a place to stay in Dublin anytime, and we don't have to worry about his elbows any more.

God I love this band.