Bandstandesque

Next week, I will be writing about my cultural meanderings during my summer break from work, as part of my occasional Eyes & Ears series of pieces. In there, will be a mention of the last gig I attended in my 40s; The Mekons at The Cluny 2 in Newcastle, while this piece you’re reading now is dedicated to attending the first gig of my 50s, when I saw the Best Fucking Band in the World, Teenage Fanclub, for the 28^th time, at the Kelvingrove Park Bandstand in Glasgow.

In my younger days, I was always very much in awe of musicians. Other than That Petrol Emotion, who were in effect mates on account of Raymond and John having been at University with me, I didn’t really communicate directly or keep in touch with people from bands, despite doing interviews with hundreds of indie and alternative groups during my music journalist incarnation in the first half of the 1990s. One prior historical exception to this were The Mekons. When I was in a terrible proto Rough Trade band called Pretentious Drivel, from late 78 to early 81, we adored The Mekons and used to write to them at their Richmond Mount student squat in Headingley and they used to write back, offering advice, suggestions and enclosing loads of badges and leaflets for a myriad of left wing causes. Those were the days. Mind The Mekons haven’t changed all that much, as Jon Langford gave me a big bear hug at the end of the night at The Cluny. However, it’s not because he remembered me from 1978, but because a few years ago, I got back in touch with him via Facebook and we met up when he played a solo gig at Americana last year. Since then, we have started to communicate semi-regularly on Facebook.

Re-establishing contact with Jon is a good example of the way I feel that social media has helped to break down the barriers between fans and musicians. As I pride myself on generally only liking bands who are also nice people, as far as I’m aware (let’s leave Mark E Smith out of this for a while eh?), I find it remarkably easy and generally incredibly rewarding to talk to these people whose music has meant so much to me over the years, either in real life, or via social media. Without trying to sound poncey, I had exactly the same conversation with Stephen from The Pastels in Mono last Saturday and he agreed with me. However, barely a decade ago, such the idea of direct communication with people I admired and, in some instances, was in awe of, seemed not just fanciful but ludicrously far-fetched.

Because of a plethora of life events (parenthood, divorce, moving to Slovakia and so on), I almost found myself completely detached from music for about 7 years, until the advent of reliable, affordable broadband internet allowed me to vicarious reconnect with the unreal world. Football had always been a passion, with on-line message boards aplenty for all different clubs and the game in general, but music came back into focus as the internet introduced me to ways of accessing new and old prpduct as well as, in many instances, the musicians themselves. Some of the football message boards I frequented, involving the non-league game mostly, were pleasant in a trainspotterish type of way, while others were seething bear pits of hatred, where golf, motor cars and immigration were the main topics of politically incorrect conversation. In contrast, band-based message boards were far more pleasant places, almost entirely denuded of aggressive alpha males, with the exception of The Fall, predictably enough, where being arch, confrontational and abusive were de rigeur. Most of the time, I found supportive, open, honest and friendly communities of like-minded people, where were from a broad range of ages, locations and life experiences. And I really liked that fact.

The subsequent advent of social media, in particular Facebook and Twitter, seems to have rendered on line communities, with fictional noms des plumes or de guerre depending on the prevailing cyber mood, almost anachronistic, which in some ways is a shame as my proper on-line home was the Teenage Fanclub forum, although before that, I sourced tickets for the 2003 Barrowlands gig via a lad I met from Middlesbrough who loved TFC and had read stuff I’d written in football fanzines.

As regards the Teenage Fanclub message board, I’ll be eternally grateful to the wonderful people I’ve met from that forum who have become friends (though some of them were friends to start with; Mick and Shaun in particular) and especially because of how it was the best place for me to turn for sympathy and support when I lost my dad in the summer of 2009. I’m not ashamed to say I was in conversation on the TFC board with a friend called Barry when the Freeman Hospital called to tell me Eddy Cusack had gone. The meet up in Motherwell for a TFC gig 3 weeks later was one of my happiest memories of that time and something that truly helped me get through my process of grieving.

That message board was a real community; I’d been part of an initial meet-up in London in July 2006 for the Bandwagonesque gig and the Barrowlands one in September that year. In 2010, one of the leading lights, Tom O’Grady, died of cancer and it was a very hard blow for many of us who regarded Tom as a friend and not just a cyber-buddy. However, from this adversity came strength; a charity gig was organised in Glasgow in December 2010, the night before a Teenage Fanclub gig at the ABC and many boarders attended and provided financial and logistical support, with all monies going to charity. Barry really played a blinder on this one, as he did with the 2014 post gig show at the Poetry Club, of which more later…

When the gig was announced back in May, the first thing Laura and I did was to abandon plans to visit Fairport Convention’s Cropredy Festival the week before, which was just as well as I ended up going to see my mate David Peace in Barnsley on Saturday 9^th. Anyway, Friday 15^th August was firmly pencilled in; gig and train tickets were purchased and 2 nights in a hotel off Great Western Road were booked. Only then did the realisation of it not just being my birthday celebration, but the day after Ben’s A Level results, start to take hold. Frankly, since last September, Ben’s A Level results have constantly occupied a portion of my mind with equal parts nagging worries and positive thoughts. In the end, we needn’t have worried; he’s into Leeds Met to do History and the world is a wonderful place.

Being honest, the whole world has been a wonderful place since I turned 50; on the Monday itself, I kept a clean sheet in 6 a side, saw Team Northumbria beat Heaton Stan 4-0 and had a few pints in the Benton Ale House with an old pal from sixth form who was in town with her kids for the night. The coincidental and unrelated tumble off my bike on Coach Lane that evening should not be given any major cognisance. On the Wednesday I saw Benfield thump Celtic Nation 5-0 and on the Thursday, Ben got his results, so it was with joy in our hearts that Laura and I boarded the train for an effortless journey to Glasgow, followed by a quick hop on the subway to Kelvinbridge to our easy to locate hotel. Shower, snooze and coffee later and we were in The Three Judges on Dumbarton Road at Kelvinhall.

The pub was selected by my dear friend for longer than 20 years now and fellow contributor to NUFC fanzine The Popular Side, Mick Hydes. Originally from Ashington, he’s been in Scotland since 1997 and Paisley since 2001 (I think). He loves football, proper beer and Teenage Fanclub. It all came together as other boarders Celeste, Julie, Mark, Peter and Ruthie met us there for a few pints of quality traditional ale and a swift dander up the road to the venue; a converted bandstand in a park. I have to say, other than the farcical lack of toilets, which caused me to miss Don’t Look Back of all songs, the night was magical. The sponsorship by Magners didn’t grate too much; it just meant we had horrible, expensive cider to drink, rather than fizzy, overpriced lager.  We met a dozen or so other boarders (Barry, Del, Duglas, Ian, Neil and a load others I’m sorry I’ve forgotten in the drunken haze and gig euphoria) and enjoyed one of the most magical of Teenage Fanclub nights I think I’ve ever had.

Despite the huge gaps in-between TFC records, interest in the band is kept high by their side projects: Jonny, Lightships, The New Mendicants and Snowgoose for instance. However, Teenage Fanclub are THE band and, for the first time since December 2010, they were playing Glasgow; on a Friday night. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. From the moment we got inside the renovated natural amphitheatre, the atmosphere started to build; classic warm up songs including Blue Boy, What Do I Get? and Another Girl Another Planet got everyone right in the mood. What we had to enjoy was a 6 piece band, with Finlay back again, and 18 glorious songs in a fabulous 100 minute set. Of course there weren’t any new numbers; this was not the place for them, because this was a gathering of like-minded souls, of good people, of kind people and some supremely talented people, in the audience as well as on the stage.

From the opening seconds of It’s All In My Mind  (the finest song never to be written about Kieron Dyer), I wanted to be up pressed against the barrier, singing tunelessly along with the band I rate above all others in the history of human culture, but there was a timid tone to the crowd. Perhaps it was the failing wan light, or perhaps it was diffidence, who knows, though the shouts for Gene Clark and Best Fucking Band in the World were there, but it took until I Need Direction, the eleventh number of the set, before the audience were properly up on their feet. I’m delighted to say it wasn’t just a dad pit, because two women were the ones who led the polite charge to the front and I’m very glad they did. Darkness fell and we became one…

Highlights? Numerous; The Concept, My Uptight Life, Baby Lee, Ain’t That Enough and Please Stay in particular but, let’s be honest about this, the telepathic emotional contact between band and audience in the four-guitar assault of Everything Flows should be experienced by all those who know and love music. Just take time during any version of that number to look around a natural bowl of swaying, adoring fans singing along to every syllable. I defy anyone not to feel some primal urge to wipe away a tear at the sight. And what I love about this band is that they appreciate it; they respect us, they like us and they are glad to see us there.

Afterwards, after an interminable toilet stop and a wander down some unpromising but ultimately correct back alleys, while taking instructions from a smart phone GPS under a street light, we found The Poetry Club. That post gig euphoria where you see your pals and swap notes on the events as you drink beer gives way to exhaustion. Some of us took cabs earlier than others; some even missed the fabulous sight of Stuart from the Wellgreen in a hilarious tumbling embrace with Neil that I’ll cherish for the rest of my days. Laura and I left about 1, I think, in a random cab, clutching pair of posters that Barry had thoughtfully provided, and stopped for a kebab, showing we really must have been loaded.

Saturday brought autumn in; gusting winds, rain from slate skies and a rancid hangover. Laura decided to do the tourist thing, while I followed my heart and struck out North West to see Clydebank versus Yoker Athletic in a Group 6 Sectional League Cup tie, in the company of lifelong Bankies fan Neil, who was now thankfully restored to the vertical. I had thought of calling this piece My Upright Life you know…

The story of Clydebank’s demotion from the Scottish Senior ranks is an appalling tale of corruption and mismanagement at boardroom level. Suffice to say, the name Steedman shouldn’t be uttered in the earshot of any Bankies fan. Following the sale of Kilbowie Park and a highly dubious relocation to Airdrie in 2002, following the equally squalid and suspicious disappearance of the Diamonds, the United Clydebank Supporters reformed the club in 2003 in the Juniors. Originally playing at Drumchapel, the Bankies gained promotions through the Central Divisions to the West Premier and swapped grounds to their current home; Holm Park, which is the home ground of Yoker Athletic, which is in Clydebank. Confused? Well try getting your head round the fact that the tenants are at home to the landlords after a dozen beers the night before.

In the Scottish Juniors West Region, there are 63 clubs; the 24 from Ayrshire play in 4 groups of 6 in the season opening Ardagh Glass League Cup. Meanwhile the 39 clubs in the Central Region play in 8 groups in the Sectional League Cup, with the winners making the quarter finals. I’m not sure about this, but I believe each club plays each other once and that the groups are the same every season. In group 6, Clydebank had already beaten Maryhill and Ashfield away before this game, with Glasgow Perthshire at home to come.

After a wasted trip the length of Argyle Street to Volcanic Tongue Records (shut), I took the train from Central to Yoker ready for the 2pm kick off. I had thought of attending Hamilton Accies v St Johnstone, but at £23 entry on the back of £24 to get into Barnsley the week before, I decided to go for the community option. Arriving at Holm Park, I paid my fiver, bought a programme and located Neil, who was nursing a medicinal Guinness in the club house bar, where we were soon joined by his brother in law Alan.

With a healthy attendance, compared to comparable standards of play, if not facilities (on account of the FA’s insane ground grading requirements), in English non-league, of about 350, Clydebank started off well and took an early lead through Campbell after 7 minutes, with a lovely goal after a smart passing move, but they failed to build on it. In the second half Yoker Athletic grabbed a point with a penalty, given away for a needless hand ball. Despite being the higher ranked side, having far more of the opportunities and striking the bar twice, The Bankies were unable to get a winner and will need to beat Glasgow Perthshire to ensure they progress in a cup they won at Pollok FC last June. The highlights of the game are here; play it on mute if you don’t like swearing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jFeUei9hlmc

Instead of getting the train back, Alan gave me a lift into town, which was very much appreciated, dropping me right outside Mono where I bought Ben a well done present for passing his exams and had a good chat with Stephen, who correctly identified my company at the Bankies’ game. This is exactly what I mean about the community between bands and fans; it’s wonderful.

Also wonderful was the night out Laura and I had later on; a glorious seafood restaurant called Two Fat Ladies and memorable pubs including Gallus next door at Kelvinhall and the craft ale paradise Inn Deep at Kelvinbridge. At the end of the evening, we ran into Derek and Jo, friends from Newcastle from way back, who were at the gig the night before and were living for the summer on the same street as us. Small world, but a great world.

All in all, a marvellous weekend that was worth the appalling 2 day hangover I was forced to endure, which has made me forswear the drink until October 18^th,  and wasn’t spoiled at all by the perfect storm of Hibs, Cork and Newcastle United all combining to make it a truly super Sunday. Ignore that; it means nothing.

I love Glasgow. I love Scottish Juniors Football. I love Teenage Fanclub. And I love the friends I’ve made through that band.