The Maintenance of Headway

 The final set of Percy Main programmes articles & match reports from 2022/2023 now follows -:

Haltwhistle Jubilee: 25-03-23

Percy Main 2 Seaton Delaval Amateurs 1

Percy Main climbed to the rarefied heights of fourth place in the Northern Alliance Premier Division following their second successive home victory, hot on the heels of the 7-1 demolition of Whitley Bay Reserves the week before. In terms of chances created, The Villagers could perhaps have equalled, if not exceeded, last week’s goal haul in the first half alone, as the woodwork came to the rescue of the visitors. Last week’s hat trick hero Alfie Livermore was repeatedly denied by the frame of the goal, while Jordan Stephenson placed several efforts inches wide of either post.

After Livermore had been a shade off target with two early snapshots from the edge of the box, Delaval came within a whisker of taking the lead on 15 minutes. A titanic scramble in the box saw the ball rebound from the inside of the post and into the centre of the box, where numerous efforts were blocked by desperate Main defenders, before the ball was finally cleared. Played switched to the other end of the pitch, resulting in a simple chance for Stephenson, who incredibly sidefooted wide of an empty net. This was only a temporary reprieve for Seaton Delaval, as Harry Twinn put Percy Main ahead on 20 minutes with a smart finish from a tight angle. Despite the desperate efforts of a Delaval defender, the officials were in no doubt the ball was over the line and, in the absence of VAR in the Northern Alliance, the goal was given.

Immediately afterwards, Livermore’s brilliant curling effort struck the base of the post and Stephenson’s follow-up effort sneaked just the wrong side of the far post. Delaval themselves were close to scoring, when an unmarked Liam Laidler poked an effort wide. Livermore was once again denied when his glorious dipping effort smacked the top of the bar as The Main ended the half well on top.

The litany of missed chances continued after the break, with Livermore a shade wide from the edge of the box. These misses seemingly came back to haunt The Main when Delaval, temporarily reduced 10 men while Kai Sample spent a stint in the sin bin for dissent, drew level. Callum Elliott in home goal, parried a free kick from the edge of the box, with Laidler reacting quickest the bury the loose ball. However, never has the truism that a team is at their most vulnerable just after they score, been better illustrated than by the Percy response. Straight from kick off, the Villagers swept forward and Mark McDonnell saw his effort from the right palmed away by keeper Jamie Wright, straight into the path of Ben Bradburn who gleefully smashed it home. Wright made amends with a stunning block from Twinn at his near post, before Delaval lost their composure in the closing stages.

First to incur the referee’s displeasure was Oyindamola Ajayi, who saw red after a clash with Main sub Nicky Whitelaw. Wright again distinguished himself with a superb tip over following a misdirected defensive header, before being dismissed for violent conduct, after hurling the ball at Main sub Kieran Brannen, who also saw red for a second yellow card. A further Delaval player was sinbinned for dissent and when play restarted, Stephenson almost put the icing on the cake with a glorious long range shot that smacked the post with the replacement keeper an immobile spectator. Seconds later, the final whistle sounded and Delaval’s Jaden Cahill-Taylor was shown the final red card of the day for expressing his displeasure rather too vehemently for the referee’s liking. However, these late incidents should not distract from the quality of The Main’s attacking play, especially in the opening period.

Newcastle Blue Star: 03-04-23

Percy Main 5 Haltwhistle Jubilee 0

The second half of this game must rank as one of the most complete performances seen at Purvis Park in many a long year. Percy Main produced a second half showing that was as near faultless as could be imagined at Northern Alliance Premier Division level against a determined and resolute Haltwhistle side, who never threw in the towel when the goals rained in. Indeed, the Main’s keeper Callum Elliott once again turned in a magnificent display that included at least four saves that bordered on the miraculous. Without his superb glovework, the final score may not have been as emphatic as it was, though we must recognise that the quality of play that flowed from back to front and across both flanks, deserved to be rewarded by the 5-0 result.

Alfie Livermore, who again proved to be a constant threat from the very first whistle, put the home side ahead after 7 minutes. Collecting a quick free kick on the left hand edge of the area, he stormed into the box and unleashed a fierce shot low across keeper Nathan Byerley and into the bottom corner of the net. The surprising thing was that this was the only goal in the first period, as the Villagers sought to play the ball along the deck across the back line, almost like a tribute to Channel 4’s Football Italia from back in the day’s when veteran libero Dean Ellis was a lad. Haltwhistle responded with dogged defending and robust tackling, though Elliott was called into action and distinguished himself with a fine save, holding a stinging volley from Rob Peart into his midriff.

In the second period, the floodgates well and truly opened after 53 minutes when an unmarked Matt Aspey nodded in a free kick from Carl Collins at the back post. Immediately from the restart, Haltwhistle won a free kick on the edge of the Main area for handball. Elliott again drew the crowd’s generous applause with a stunning one handed block at the junction of bar and post. Minutes later and the Main keeper was at it again, tipping a seemingly certain goal round the foot of the post. This was to prove crucial as from the Main’s next attack, Harry Twinn drove in a venomous low effort that went through keeper Byerley because of the sheer brute force of the strike, to make the score 3-0. Byerley was on his mettle soon after, denying Livermore’s subtle curling effort.

With just over 10 minutes remaining, Jay Errington was introduced and, after sending a range finder onto the roof of the net, he made it 4-0 with a beautiful downward header from Livermore’s inch perfect cross. These young lads are playing some exquisite attacking football, but never forget the contribution of Callum Elliott in nets, as he made his fourth brilliant save, turning a fierce low effort from the luckless Peart round the post on his right hand side this time. The scoring was completed on 85 minutes, when an unchallenged Jake McDine nodded in a Mark McDonnell corner to round off a perfect performance from Percy Main. This is a performance that will live long in the memory of those lucky enough to witness it.

Seaton Delaval Amateurs 2 Percy Main 2

On a chilly, overcast afternoon that mocked the recent turning of the seasons to British Summer Time, Percy Main and Seaton Delaval played out an absorbing contest that ended in a deserved point apiece after a 2-2 draw. Wheatridge Park is an attractive and atmospheric location, and it served as a fitting venue for this hard fought encounter, where the visitors twice led from Alfie Livermore goals, but were twice pegged back by a determined home side, spurred on by an exemplary performance from the talented veteran Keith Graydon, who notched a brace of equalisers whose distance probably amounted to less than a couple of feet.

After an even opening period, Delaval fashioned the first chance of the game after 8 minutes, when home captain Liam Laidler saw the ever excellent Callum Elliott block his low effort at the near post. Immediately afterwards the Main custodian was back in action, parrying a Damien Stevens shot with his legs. The Villagers showed themselves as an attacking force on 20 minutes when Livermore strode into the box, only to lose his footing, allowing the back to run to Kieran Brannen. His attempt was held under the crossbar by Luke Hinchcliffe. Clean handling was a feature of both keepers’ performances, with Elliott claiming and clutching another Stevens shot soon after.

Percy ought to have taken the lead on the half hour when Jordan Stephenson scuffed his shot wide, after being played in following a quick free kick by Carl Collins. However, the Main did find a breakthrough on 38 minutes, when Livermore scored with a deflected effort, having been released by another astute pass by Collins. Delaval sought to regain parity and Elliott was again called upon to foil Laidlaw, with Euan McLaren sending the loose ball into the side netting from a tight angle, meaning the visitors held a slender one goal advantage at the break.

Delaval came out determined to take something from the game in the second period and it took a semi-miraculous clearance from on the line by Mark McDonnell to preserve the Main’s advantage. Stevens then was denied twice, firstly by sliding inches away from a cross in the six yard box and then by a flying Elliott at full stretch. This was only a temporary respite, as Laidler finally found himself on the scoresheet, bundling the ball home at the back post from very close range. In truth, the goal had been coming and it was no less than the home team deserved. However, following this, the Main reorganised themselves and came again with confidence. After working an opening for himself and flashing the effort just wide, Livermore played a decisive part in the Villagers going ahead for the second time on 75 minutes. Driving into the box from the right, he was barged over and got up to take the inevitable spot kick, sending Hinchcliffe the wrong way from 12 yards.

The home team would not be beaten though, and McLaren bravely forced the ball home for an equaliser from almost on the line with ten minutes remaining. From then on, the game became stretched, as both sides made determined efforts to win. Livermore broke rapidly and was denied by Hinchcliffe’s block, before Grayson’s audacious attempt at lobbing Elliott from almost halfway was thwarted by the keeper’s agility and safe handling. There were to be no further goals, and both sets of players left the pitch to warm and generous applause, recognising the quality of the play they had just witnessed.

Alnwick Town: 24-04-23

Newcastle Independent 3 Percy Main 3

Undoubtedly, Percy Main Amateurs have been involved in some exciting games in 2022/2023, but surely none have quite stirred the blood as much in terms of topsy turvy fortunes as the pulsating afternoon’s entertainment served up at Coach Lane in the 3-3 draw with Newcastle Independent.

After a week of incessant rain caused the postponement of many other Northern Alliance games, it was a pleasure that both sides were able to utilise the perfect 4G surface at the Northumbria University facility. While traditionalists may decry the sterile nature of such pitches, none could argue that this game was hampered by the artificial turf. Within 20 seconds, debutant Main keeper Elliott Kalthoeber, deputising for the absent Callum Elliott, was called into action, saving from home centre forward Liam Henderson. Play soon switched to the other end and Harry Twinn sent a flashing drive inches wide. Unfortunately, it was Independent who broke the deadlock on 4 minutes, when Henry Harvey fired the home side into an early lead. However, same as on countless other occasions this campaign, the Main were in no mood to lie down and surrender. Carl Collins was inches over the bar following a half cleared corner on 10 minutes, but parity was restored when Ben Bradburn expertly fired a low strike into the corner from the edge of the box on the quarter hour.

For the remainder of the half, both sides carved out good opportunities, generally from frantic exchanges in the penalty area. Several times young Kalthoeber showed his bravery in blocking loose balls, while the Independent back four put their necks on the line to stifle dangerous efforts from Percy. While the hectic pace slackened the closer we got to the break, the atmosphere remained akin to a powder keg, with several players from both sides teetering on the brink of fury.

The second half began with Independent retaking the lead. Despite a suspicion of offside in the build-up, Jordan Lavender finished astutely with a clever chip into the roof of the net, past an unsighted Kalthoeber. This was only a temporary setback as the Main again levelled, when Jordan Stephenson pounced on a loose ball in the box to fire home, after Independent’s custodian Rob Hodgson had made a decent stop. Soon after, Percy took the lead, courtesy of a superb individual effort by Kieran Brannen. Collecting the ball on the left of midfield, he drove in field and towards the area, before ramming home an unstoppable effort past Dryden’s despairing drive. It could have been 4-2 moments later, when Hodgson pulled off an eye-catching save to tip Bradburn’s effort over the bar.

Instead of seeing the game out, the Main were pegged back by a thirty minute cameo of outstanding talent by Independent’s Wilson Kneeshaw. Firstly, we waltzed from front to back before smacking the crossbar with a powerful effort that was scrambled away after a few alarms. On 76 minutes, he tied the game up when his astute through ball evaded everyone, including the despairing Kalthoeber, before dribbling apologetically home. Stung by this reverse, the Villagers came again, and Jay Errington nodded a Twinn cross just wide. Hodgson was twice tested from distance in injury time, holding an effort from Stephenson and then, with the final touch of a splendid game, going full length to tip away a strong effort by Josh Nicholson.

 

Burradon & New Fordley 5 Percy Main 0

A much changed Percy Main side travelled to second top Burradon & New Fordley and, despite giving a good account of themselves, especially in the second half, found themselves on the end of a five goal hammering on a lovely, sunny evening. The die was cast from the first whistle with the home side turning on the pressure and winning a couple of early corners that caused panic in the Main defence. Having scrambled these away, the visitors fell behind in the third minute when Lee Waugh fired in a low free kick across keeper Elliot Kalthoeber.

Percy Main has gifted a half chance in the opposition box when keeper Thomas Shanley cannoned an attempted clearance off Rob Ridley, but the ball did not drop kindly for the visiting player. This was to be the Main’s only real chance of the first half, other than a speculative attempted lob from Mark McDonnell that Shanley comfortably dealt with, and within a minute Kalthoeber had made a brilliant instinctive save from a point blank header that he deflected onto the bar. Sadly, Burradon did not allow themselves to become frustrated and, following their next attack, it became 2-0 when Danny Sayer controlled a through ball and fired home, despite a Herculean effort from Kalthoeber. It became 3-0 on 28 minutes, when Waugh tapped home from the centre of the ball, effectively ending the game as a contest.

The second half saw centre back Josh Nicholson replace the injured Kalthoeber in goal and the introduction of Harry Twinn, fresh from playing a College game earlier in the day over in Cumbria. Both of them did well; Nicholson made some instinctive and somewhat unorthodox stops, while Twinn did not put a foot wrong during his time on the pitch. Indeed, the Main put in a fine showing after the break and were unlucky not to score, especially when Kieran Brannen struck the base of the post after a mazy run through the home side’s defence. Burradon has some excellent players, one of whom is Sayer, and he outpaced the Main rearguard before driving past Nicholson, who was rendered a bemused observer as the score reached 4-0. The final action saw Burradon make it 5-0 when Hall’s low ball across the box was inadvertently deflected past Nicholson to make the final score 5-0.

Percy Main 0 Alnwick Town 0

Percy Main Amateurs concluded their home programme of fixtures with a low-key goalless draw against Alnwick Town at Purvis Park on a chilly Monday evening. Without the services of Alfie Livermore and Jay Errington, both resting in preparation for their Northumberland Senior Cup final appearance for Blyth Spartans against Morpeth Town at St. James’ Park the following evening, the Main lacked the pace and guile to break down a resolute and well-organised Alnwick defence. Indeed, during a stop-start opening half that was blighted by a series of minor, niggling injuries to players from both sides, there was no real pattern to the play, though it has to be said that Alnwick were the dominant outfit.

Callum Elliott, on his return to the Main goal, made his usual contribution with some fine stops. After 18 minutes, he went full length to palm away an effort from Lewis Fairbairn, with the ball eventually being cleared by Harry Twinn, causing some real discomfort to a female Percy supporter who took the full force of the ball to her hip. Thankfully, she soon recovered and was able to marvel at a pair of further brilliant saves by Elliot, firstly when he tipped a close-range Fairbairn effort onto the underside of the bar and then a brilliant reflex block from Simon Farrier. Towards the end of the half, the Main’s Kieran Brannen was sent to the sin bin for dissent, before a deep corner from Twinn caused alarm in the Alnwick defence, but the home side could not force it home.

After the break, with Percy Main restored to their full complement after Brannen’s indiscretion, the game settled down to a more even encounter, though with little threat from either side in the final third. The closest either side came to breaking the deadlock was a free kick from Carl Collins for the Villagers that whistled just over the angle of bar and post. In the end, a point apiece was a fair return for both sides in a game that neither truly deserved to win.

 

 

 

 

 

Boo Boo Boy

Just published by Spenwood Books, All the Songs Sound the Same is an anthology of over 300 essays by fans of The Wedding Present, each one describing their favourite number by the band. I'm in there and the piece I penned is about Boo Boo -: 

The first time I heard Boo Boo, my immediate response was to jump up and down on the spot, punching the air and roaring my incoherent approval. I was in my living room, one Friday teatime at the end of May 2008, having just purchased El Rey. Almost a decade and a half later, it remains my favourite latter period Wedding Present album and Boo Boo my all time favourite song of theirs.

To these ears, Boo Boo is a musical tour de force, combining a profound, dispassionate yet ominous, growling wall of slow noise with quieter passages of precise, intense solo guitar manipulation, displaying forensic control and creating an atmosphere combining hope, despair and ambivalence. The achingly brief lyrics create the two most visual and affecting images in all of David Gedge’s writing. DLG himself has gone on record as saying he feels the opening line Well yes, it’s late; the waiter’s stacking the chairs has a highly cinematic quality. I disagree, as my mind visualises an oil painting, composed predominantly in matt black, nocturnal blues and turgid yellow, creating a scene that incorporates a window table for two in an otherwise deserted restaurant, on a quiet side street in a sleeping, obscure town on an unremarkable midweek night. The lateness of the hour suggests this assignation may have connotations of a clandestine meeting, rather than a friendly catch up over a bite of supper. However, there hints that one of those has emotionally moved on. It isn’t him though.

The fact the lyrics are in the present tense increases the sense of immediacy and unpredictability surrounding the situation we are drawn into. There’s no scope for reflection or analysis of times gone by; we know the two diners have a shared romantic history and the aching sense of yearning from the spurned narrator is genuinely heart-rending. Is his former lover now simply his friend or is there a chance that the passion could be rekindled? When the second verse begins by describing how Your eyes are glistening as you fill my glass to the brim even the most disaffected, pessimistic ex must tend towards believing she still carries a torch, only to be struck down by how she makes her new flame the main subject of the conversation. Those optical lagoons of perfect blue drain and desiccate; barren and loveless. Has the hope of a moment before really been extinguished?

The real lyrical genius of Boo Boo is that the song leaves the future ambiguous.  There are no more verses. We don’t learn if the night ended with wild, unbridled passion, a rancorous outpouring of bad blood, or a chaste peck on the cheek. The music offers no clues either; a vast, anthemic, crescendo of pummelling volume builds and builds and… dissipates… Again, we are in the throes of ambiguity; there isn’t a climax, only bathos. Interpret the complementary sounds and words how you wish; all that is certain is the lack of finality, which leaves us yearning for more, even as the quite baffling Swingers is bringing El Rey to a gloriously confusing close.

 

Heddon Easter

 Heddon v Hazlerigg was a pleasant way to spend Easter Saturday afternoon -:

Around this time every year, we hear the usual media bleating about players suffering from “burn out” because of the end of season “fixture pile-up.” Now, ordinarily I might have a bit of sympathy with the poor lambs, but the privations endured by these young millionaires (case in point; Newcastle United scheduled to play 7 league games in April) fade into insignificance when compared to the requirements placed upon those operating at lower levels. Gateshead, heroically thus far, have the small matter of 9 league games and an FA Trophy semi-final to deal with in the Cruellest Month. So far, they’ve reached Wembley and opened a 7-point gap on the relegation zone, so all is going swimmingly for Mike Williamson’s lads thus far and the very best of luck to them for their remaining fixtures.

Back in the day, I remember the FA Cup final taking place on the first Saturday in May. This year, it’s been shunted back to the first Saturday in June, with the final Premier League fixtures taking place the weekend before. Such a relaxed itinerary is not a privilege afforded to the rest of the pyramid, with Step 5 and 6 leagues required to finish their regular fixtures on Saturday 22 April, to allow for the convoluted play-off system now in place, presumably intended to add a sense of unnecessary hysteria to the race for that crucial second promotion spot in the Northern League, top and bottom flight. Now if you think that’s a daft regulation, Step 7 leagues, such as the wonderful Northern Alliance Premier Division, are required to finish on Saturday 6 May, to give the FA time to shuffle the pack as regards clubs in geographical grey areas, who may be cursed by lateral transfers. Considering that Alnwick town expressed an interest in promotion, I doubt this will unduly affect the composition of the Alliance next year. Of course, the three other Alliance divisions are allowed the luxury of being able to finish their programme on Saturday 13 May, while we’d best not get into the whole carry on about the scheduling of the 5 remaining NFA and Alliance Cup finals just yet.

At the time of writing, in the post-apocalyptic afternoon lull following the ravages of Tuesday 11 April’s storm, which has already led to the postponement of the opening weekend’s cricket fixtures in the NEPL, Stobswood Welfare, who currently lead the Alliance First Division, have already played 4 games in April, have the small matter of 11 fixtures remaining. Good luck to them with that, especially as they share their facilities with a reserve side and 2 cricket teams.

 

	Club	P	W	D	L	GD	PTS
1	Benton FC	22	14	2	6	+29	44
2	Alnwick Town Development	21	14	2	5	+28	44
3	Blyth Rangers	24	14	4	6	+28	43 (-3)
4	Whitley Bay Sporting Club A	22	13	1	8	+15	37 (-3)
5	Hazlerigg Victory	19	11	4	4	+12	37

In the Alliance basement, the promotion race is frighteningly tight; with the division above running 2 clubs light, the actual number of clubs going up and down, no doubt influenced as well by both expected and unexpected resignations,  will undoubtedly be a matter for the Alliance management committee to resolve in advance of the AGM, when next season’s constitution will be unveiled, but it looks like Hazlerigg Victory have got more than a fighting chance of finishing top 2, even if they have to squeeze in 7 fixtures by Saturday 6 May. Let’s hope they’ve not been sent an invite to Big Ears’ bash at Westminster Abbey that day.

In all seriousness, Hazlerigg (Hezzy to their devotees) have already played, and won, on 1, 5, 8 and 10 April, with further games to come on 12, 19, 22, 24, 26 and 29 of this month. Most of the squad also turn out for their Sunday team, who had a game on Easter Sunday as well. Providing Dinnington Welfare isn’t under water, they’ll be hosting Cramlington Blue Star Inter just about the time this blog goes live. While promotion is no doubt the prime motivation for Hezzy’s head honcho Mark Bullock, glorious failure would not leave them empty handed as Easter Monday lunchtime saw them lift the Neville Cowey Cup at Blyth Town’s ground after a titanic struggle with Ashington Reserves. Having gone in at the break trailing 3-0, Hazlerigg staged their own resurrection shuffle, winning 4-3 in the last minute, to spark uproarious celebrations. #Blythstanbul, as their twitter account presciently called it.

I couldn’t get to Blyth Town for the final so, taking advantage of a blank date for Percy Main, I took in Heddon United versus Hezzy on Easter Saturday. When I got there, alighting from a bus destined for Carlisle, it was a lovely, sunny Spring afternoon, with a warm breeze and clear blue skies overhead. The whole place oozed a semi-rustic charm in the far western extremities of the city, with the start of the Tyne Valley and Northumberland literally yards away, providing a pleasant location for what I thought would be my last footballing Saturday until mid-September. Though I’d not seen a Heddon home game this season, this wasn’t strictly a new ground for me, as the location of Walbottle Campus is also the home of Benwell and Walbottle Cricket Club where, coming down the slope, I took 4/16 (all bowled) on my last visit a couple of years ago. That night, a NCSL game was taking place on the adjoining 4G pitch, as it was again today; Westerhope United v Blackfyne to be precise. Heddon were using one of the grass pitches, which was slightly oddly marked, as an athletics track had been added to the outer edge. Strangely, one lane was incorporated in the pitch and so the line was effectively the juncture between lanes 2 and 3. Baffling and slightly disconcerting to look at.

Thus far in 2022/2023, I’d only seen Hezzy once; a 9-2 massacre of West Moor and Jesmond Under 23s, who called time on their Alliance campaign the week after, having suffered a 20-0 evisceration by Wallsend Boys Club Reserves. I’d sponsored the match ball for that first game as well. As regards Heddon, I must admit I’ve not seen them at their best. Well-beaten at Blyth Rangers back in November, when they appeared to run completely out of steam around the hour mark, they were bullied into defeat against Stocksfield in early February. Looking at the form of the two sides going into this game, I sensed an away win was on the cards. However, and I’m stating this unequivocally, Heddon were vastly improved since the previous times I’d seen them. They were organised and had purpose to their play but were up against a decent and determined Hezzy outfit who scrap like terriers for every ball.

The visitors took the lead on 12 minutes through Kieron Liddle’s clever finish. Moments later it should have been 2-0, but when presented with the opportunity to score the replica of Callum Wilson’s second at West Ham, the Hezzy forward opted to impersonate Chris Wood at Hillsborough instead. As a result, it remained 1-0 until the break, being a tight, competitive game on an unforgivingly bumpy surface. After the break, Hezzy doubled their lead early on when Mitchell Ramsay scored. Despite forcing the Hezzy keeper into a couple of notable stops, including a block that forced him to limp off injured, Heddon just couldn’t score, and it was left to Ramsay, rushing from his own half and beating any thought of offside, to complete the scoring after evading the keeper and rolling in from a tight angle.

A decent afternoon and encouraging to see two clubs looking in such good health. Hopefully, they’ll all enjoy a rest over the summer and come again with confidence next season.

 

 

 

The Jayne Dent Experience

 Cultural meanderings over the last couple of months...

Performances & Recordings:

Only a couple of days after I posted my last cultural blog, I took delivery of This Stupid World, the new album by Yo La Tengo. While I’ve always maintained that YLT are one of the most consistent and reliable American bands around, I have been left a little underwhelmed by some of their most recent albums. However, they’re right back on form with This Stupid World, which is a solid gold classic and an absolutely quintessential Yo La Tengo release, chock full of Ira Kaplan’s squalling guitars and murmured vocals, alongside Georgia Hubley’s still, introspective ballads in glorious effect. The band recorded the album near-live and what is striking is the contrast between Kaplan and Hubley. Even when Kaplan is wringing his guitar for noise, on the opening trio of Sinatra Drive Breakdown, Fallout and Tonight’s Episode, it sounds as though Hubley is playing with brushes, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, not just in terms of her minimal use of fills, but volume. That is perhaps the biggest difference between YLT now and back in the day.

Mortality is a theme on this post-lockdown set. “Prepare to die,” Kaplan cautions on Until It Happens. “The pain creeps in anyhow / You feel alone / Friends are gone,” Hubley offers on the layered, electronic Miles Away. Best of all is Hubley’s Aselstine, that accurately summarises grief: “I can’t sell your books, though you asked me to,” she sings, nearly whispering. A quiet, and a loud, slice of genius that should not go unnoticed by the wider listening public.

Meanwhile, the no audience underground continues to flourish apace. Early March saw the return to life of TUSK events, with the TUSK North weekender at the Lit & Phil. Because of other commitments, I was only able to take in the Friday event and even then, I had to push off early. As it was still a bit nippy outside, the audience was predominantly, predictably jumper clad and almost uniformly hirsute. The whole shebang kicked off with David De La Haye, who isn’t a boxer even if he sounds like he should be, presenting some of his fascinating underwater soundscapes, harvested from ponds and lakes. While the organisers may as well have bolted the chairs to the floor as no-one was likely to dance, this was an utterly charming experience and redolent, to me at least, of the kind of thing you used to see on Vision On back in the day. Pat Keysell would have loved it.

The next piece just didn’t work at all, unfortunately. Networking’s The Flight of the Monarchs, which had something ostensibly to do with migration patterns of butterflies, was supposed to be live from “the most dangerous town in Mexico” via a You Tube feed, but for the vast majority of the time, the internet was down, and we had alternate visions of a frozen still image of silent musicians and immobile dancers, or a large buffering icon. Maybe next time they could try broadband rather than dial up, as the performance was almost entirely unintelligible, replaced instead by muttering, departing punters. I could see them sneaking out.

I took their lead and headed for a pint in The Split Chimp with Gary and Ant from Ashington, who are and were St James Infirmary, getting back at 7.30 for another wonderful, inspirational set from Sgerbwd, which I’ve now learned isn’t just a random set of letters that looks like a bad hand at Scrabble, but the Welsh word for skeleton. This fresh, innovative and intense experience was in contrast by the bland and uninspiring Nagruska, whose soppy synth set was like an extended homily to Robert Miles. Dull, soft and safe.  After this, we were shunted upstairs into the beautiful library for a performance by Sean Thomas and a pal as The Agarfinger Inexperience. I knew nothing about them but enjoyed their crunching waves of noise in an incredibly beautiful setting. Sadly, I had to split after this, but on the whole, it was another enjoyable night among the Society for the Abolition of Guitars. I still haven’t cracked this whole TUSK scene though; it seems to me, and I may be wrong, that the MA in Electronic Composition cohort, with associated camp followers, at Newcastle University is running the show and calling the shots. Perhaps I’m wrong.

The reason I couldn’t make it the night after was that Shelley had arranged tickets for us to see Banners at The Cluny. Until Shelley introduced me to their work, I was utterly ignorant about the project of Toronto-based Liverpudlian Michael Nelson, who it seems is something of an underground, download indie phenomenon. Occupying territory between The Killers, Keane and perhaps Talk Talk, this is probably a considerably more commercial and mainstream soundscape than I’d normally opt for, but I’ll tell you what, the bloke’s got talent and a hell of a good band behind him. The drummer in particular was a star in waiting, on a night when The Cluny was totally sold out. The thing that amazed me was the age range of the audience; alright, there were plenty of studious and spectacled young women, but a fair few white-haired muso blokes as well. This shows Banners have wide appeal, even if sourcing physical copies of their music, especially the impressive Shine a Light, is a tough ask. Maybe this is where the age gap is most pronounced; I want my sound purchases to be tangible and the youngsters prefer downloads. O Tempore! O Mores!

I’ll tell you what physical CD I’m elated to have and that’s Moorbound by my pal (Chris) Bartholomew. Released by Wormhole World in early March, this is Chris’s paean to the public spaces and parkland that fringe the north side of Newcastle city centre, where he has walked his dog since moving up here two years back. It’s great; partly solo electronic pieces and partly duets, two with saxophonist and clarinettist John Mays, two with violinist Dan Garner, this is an exceptionally warm and creative piece of work. My favourite two pieces are the ones with Mays, the sublime In Like a Lion and the beautiful Gaits. I’m delighted to report that the interest in and reception for the album have been both overwhelmingly positive. Equally superb was Chris’s scoring of the album for a live band, including Faye McCalman and John Pope, for a performance at Little Buildings on a bitter Thursday night that dissuaded many from venturing out. What an evening they missed!! This is the sort of thing you should be seeing at Café OTO, it’s that good. Chris is an immensely talented and deeply humble bloke who deserves to be recognised and rewarded for the good that he does. I’m proud to know this fella.

Another person who deserves accolades for his sterling work on the local scene is Andy Wood. Frankly, the TQ Live show he put on at the Lit & Phil on Friday 31 March was the best night out of the year so far. I mean, the January show with Culver and Sgerbwd was brilliant, but this bill, consisting of Big Road Breaker, TSR2 and Gidouille, bested it. First on were the charmingly, idiosyncratic low fi vibes of Gidouille, which is French for “silly,” but also the name of the swirl on Pere Ubu’s gut in the Alfred Jarry meisterwerk that brought the science of Pataphysics into human consciousness. Their performance was entitled “Fibonacci in Citta,” which will have something to do with maths and number sequences far beyond my ken, so we’ll not explore that avenue any further. Their name may mean “silly,” but Gidouille are far from that, the polar opposite in fact. Portentous, but not humourless, they are, as Swell Maps were once described, “serious fun.” Perhaps a solemn laugh; never dull, always hypnotic, Gidouille are definitely one for the purists. Theremin squelches and soprano sax runs so rich you’d think Lol Coxhill had been raised from the grave. I was so enthused I bought a Gidouille badge and a copy of their Zineogenesis CD that I’m looking forward to exploring in depth. Marvellous stuff.

Next on, after what I’d thought was a Whitehouse tribute band but was actually a malfunctioning fire alarm signal, were the analogue trio TSR2 and the first question I have to ask is why aren’t these fellas playing 3,000 capacity arenas, with sold out audiences raising their hands to the sky in celebration of their glorious 808 State meets Tangerine Dream synth symphonies? TSR2 are commercial without being cheesy; they are Kraftwerk on Ouse. The only TQ act you could dance to and definitely the first ones to get an encore. Probably the only ones to do actual songs as well. Their backing visuals were brilliant as well; a film of Tokyo rush hour that I initially thought was the Haymarket bus station. In mitigation, I had just been to the opticians and now know I need a far stronger prescription. TSR2 all wear specs as well, sometimes on their heads for distance, so I felt even closer to them.

Top of the bill were Big Road Breaker, performing live for the first time in 22 years.  As ever Kev Wilkinson orchestrated a punishing noise and a disturbing set of images, far in excess of that famous 1993 Riverside gig while in Drill that Lee Conlon called “The Devil’s Music.” Frightening music and frightening videos from friendly people. This is the sort of stuff your mother warned you about.

In a lot of ways, early 2023 has been a disappointing time for live gigs. Sadly Alasdair Roberts, Burd Ellen and Lavinia Blackwall all bypassed Newcastle on their recent tours, despite the latter two attempting to make contact with venues hereabouts. Sad, isn’t it? Perhaps I should set myself up as a promoter, specifically to organise shows by Glasgow-based musicians on the interface between folk, free jazz and experimental sounds. This thought became even more compelling when I went to get a ticket for Unthank Smith at the Wylam Brewery, simply because the support act was non other than the Godlike genius of Alex Rex. Not having seen THEE Drummer since September 2021, my anticipation levels were sky high, only to be dashed when I discovered it was sold out as, being turned into an all seater venue for this gig, the capacity was significantly lower than usual. Like all good blaggers and bloggers, I fired off some begging texts to THEE Drummer himself, but the signs weren’t good, as obviously this was a hometown show for both the headliners. Thankfully, just as Manchester United were being eviscerated by Eddie Howe’s PFI Mags, news came through that there was a space for me, though I had to use the highly credible pseudonym of Jayne Dent.

Despite having some happy teenage memories of dossing around Exhibition Park, I’d never actually been to the Wylam Brewery since it was the Military Vehicle Museum a lifetime ago. I’m really keen to go again as it looks to be a fantastic space. Taking a spare seat in the second row, as many of those there for the headliners were grabbing pints in the foyer, it was wonderful to see the duo again. Rory, locks shorn and looking devilishly handsome still plays that growling guitar redolent of That Fucking Tank back in the day, while the bearded and tousled Alex still has a winning line in sarky and self-deprecatory between song patter. Dedicating songs to Joe Willock and Callum Wilson, he quickly got the audience on his side.

 

The set included classics such as Every Wall is a Wailing Wall, The Great Experiment and Coward’s Song, though it was predominantly unreleased stuff, which isn’t surprising as they’ve got 2 albums in the can and are thinking about recording another. The highlight of these numbers, as ever, is Two Kinds of Song, with the kind of maudlin, bitter, self-recriminatory lyric that is a Neilson speciality. Brilliant also to see locally based jazz sax genius Faye McCalman joining them on stage for what was a superb show. Hanging out at the merch table afterwards, it was great to see Alex Rex neophytes picking up CDs, won over by a class performance. Personally, I just like any pop stars who give you a hug and compliment you on your new haircut. Goodness, I love these chaps and I love their music. In many ways, it’s a great shame I’m gigging on Saturday 8 April, as they’re playing sunderland Fire Station and I could happily go to see them again, making sure I clear off before the headliners of course. I did that this evening, wandering down through Brandling Village, past the RGS and Jesmond Metro, catching the 308 at what used to be known as The Royal Archer stop. The bus, replete with tired and happy Newcastle fans, smelled more like a brewery than Wylam had.

As well as gigs, Shelley and I have been to a couple of theatrical performances recently, of widely varying standards, it must be said. First off, we went to Northern Stage to see Theatre RE’s The Nature of Forgetting. It wasn’t a play as such, but a 70-minute piece of physical theatre, that seemed to be a narrative dance. What had attracted us to this show was the publicity which told of a sensitive exploration of the nature of dementia. The only thing was, that wasn’t what we saw. Sure, the main character was suffering from memory loss, but not because of any question of Alzheimer’s, but because of trauma. It appeared to be the case that he’d been in a car accident that killed his wife and, as a result, he blotted out things to the extent he thought his daughter, who seemed to also be his carer, was his wife. The fact the events revolved around a visit by the main character’s elderly mother and his erstwhile best friend, showed he wasn’t actually that old. Frankly, as well as being a bit confusing, it was also overlong and repetitive. Not the greatest of performances I have to say.

However, the live stream of The National Theatre’s production of Othello was absolutely phenomenal. Despite a few surprising cuts from the text, this was a compelling and emotional take on the finest examination of evil and jealousy in Shakespeare’s canon. We had a truly evil Iago and a strong, independent Emilia, acting as counterpoints to a brave but bewildered Othello and a headstrong, independent Desdemona. One really interesting choice was to cast an Irish actor as Michael Cassio, bringing out his different cultural background, as a Florentine, to the Venetians who are the other characters. While going to see a film for £20 isn’t exactly a bargain, the quality of acting and the thought behind the staging, made this a luxury worth paying for.

Books:

Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m a sucker for anything that could be considered a bargain and an assiduous charity shop crate digger and shelf scourer. Hence, when renowned north east football and local history author Paul Brown announced on Twitter that he was attempting to divest himself of many items he no longer had use for, it seemed precisely the right time for me to take a load of his excess clutter and marry it up with my own excess clutter. In the end, I bought 5 books from him. Firstly, and this is probably more of a coffee table period piece than something you’d want to read from start to finish, even though I did, was Desmond Morris’s seminal The Soccer Tribe, which sought to place the kind of theoretical framework sociologists were using the describe social phenomena in the 1970s and 1980s, over all aspects of the game. Morris examines everything from terrace chants to superstars appearing in adverts, and from the instrumental powers of those who police the game to the influential aspects of the mass media’s hold over fans as well as players. It isn’t by any stretch of the imagination a Marxist diatribe; indeed, from the benefit of 40 years hindsight, it comes across as rather a snobbish, intellectual tome that looks down its nose at the game and those who are most passionate about it. Considering Morris was a director at Oxford United (before Robert Maxwell, thankfully) and remains a devotee of the game into his 90s, one wonders just what a less sympathetic commentator may have said about football. Still, there are hundreds of gorgeous photos of Stan Bowles, Mickey Droy and a cast of badly tousled thousands snarling and expectorating on mudheaps, in front of packed scratching sheds to ogle over.

Another period piece, though one with a far more entertaining text is the storied Hugh McIlvanney’s On Football. Published in 1997, it is an anthology of the great journalist’s oeuvre from his first 35 years in the game. Ironically, his pieces on Jock Stein, Matt Busby and Bill Shankly, who comes across as the least successful and least important figure of the three, have lasted far better than his later writings on the English game, accrued from Sunday Times columns from the early years of the Premier League. When he analyses characters, rather than in his less than persuasive takes on the wider issues, he is detailed, eloquent and subtly persuasive. McIlvanney also writes well about Bob Paisley and Alex Ferguson, but perhaps best of all, is the final piece in the book; a love song to his native Kilmarnock, hoping that they see off Falkirk in the 1997 Scottish Cup final. They did as well. The bastards.

I also hoovered up three periodicals; the final two issues of Simon Kuper’s ambitious but ultimately doomed attempt to craft and curate regular anthologies of long form football writing, Perfect Pitch 3 & 4. Having bought the first two issues when they came out, I somehow missed these later editions, which contain excellent writing on an array of subjects (who would have guessed George Graham was a modern art connoisseur?). Certainly, unlike the load of pretentious, fatuous twaddle The Blizzard peddles, Perfect Pitch was an engaging read. Such a shame it didn’t find a niche in the market, unlike the fabulous Nutmeg and the equally laudable Pog Mo Goal, both of which continue to thrive.

At the time, I remember the storm created by Ian Hamilton’s Gazza Agonistes, the centrepiece of issue #45 of Granta, edited at the time by Bill Buford, the author of that gross pile of ordure masquerading as investigative journalism, Among the Thugs. Rather like Buford’s scurrilous tripe, Hamilton’s piece suffers from the kind of class-based, Oxbridge educated disdain for the lower orders so often to be found in discussions of popular culture. I mean, it’s not as bad as Jonathan Miller failing to recognise Bobby Robson when they were both being knighted on the same day at Buck House, but it has an element of petit bourgeois, faux Pecksniffian prejudice running through it. Perhaps what’s worse is that Hamilton’s narrative stops abruptly before Gascoigne’s departure from Lazio, especially as his early life is detailed extensively. In some ways, the fact the story is unfinished, is a relief for denizens of the more staunch areas of the West of Scotland and anyone with any fellow feelings for Teesside, as a freelance academic ponce could really get stuck in to Gascoigne’s later career moves, without even touching on his time at Everton or Burnley. Frankly, I enjoyed the other articles in Granta far more than Hamilton’s piece, but I’m glad I read it and even happier if I made a bit of space Paul Brown’s spare room with my purchases.

James Ellroy has always been one of my favourite American novelists and news that his latest, The Enchanters, will be out in late summer pleases me greatly. However, I was also pleased to get hold of Stephen Powell’s biography of the great man, Love me Fierce in Danger. Ellroy, perhaps unsurprisingly, isn’t one of America’s more radical writers; a dyed-in-the-wool rabid Republican, God-fearing conservative and unquestioning supporter of the Los Angeles Police Department, he nevertheless has charted every nuance of American political life, whether factual or fabulated beyond the dreams of all but the most ardent of swivel-eyed conspiracy theorists, from the early days of World War II to the fallout following Watergate. Powell, at one step removed from the elusive and famously grouchy Ellroy, charts the writer’s life, from his dysfunctional upbringing by his louche father to his mother’s murder, the key event in Ellroy’s life, through his wild early years in LA as a drug addicted golf caddy, before AA influenced sobriety gave him a work ethic and an insatiable sexual appetite that has been his personal undoing on numerous occasions. The amazing thing is Ellroy has produced a canon of impeccable writing that has been forged and crafted amidst the regular wreckage of his personal and emotional life.

Having enjoyed Powell’s work, I headed to eBay for some bargain basement picks to fill the holes in my Ellroy library. While the reportage and short fiction collection Destination: Morgue! remains on the unread pile, I’ve enjoyed leafing through LAPD 53, a west coast Weedgie style photobook of accidents, murders and suicides in the city of the Angels 70 years ago. Ellroy, a self-confessed sexual voyeur, has no qualms about showing the aftermath of erotic asphyxiation, of liquor store heists and writing a staccato commentary of the greatest cynicism to accompany it. Frankly it is far more enjoyable than the misogynistic, self-aggrandizing warts and all biography The Hilliker Curse: My Pursuit of Women, which is a disturbing and depressing read. Then again, I love Larkin’s poetry and he was an absolute cunt of a man.

Finally, I have read some fiction as well. Peter Carey’s rollicking adventure, Jack Maggs, who is Carey's version of Magwitch, the convict from Great Expectations. Carey's 1837 London, where most of the novel is set, is a brilliant Dickens pastiche, all filth and dark corners, its buildings bursting with a violent life of their own. But this is Victorian England with a difference. Things that were suppressed or unspoken in Dickens, such as homosexuality, illicit sexual passion and the abortion trade are unsentimentally exposed in this rewriting. Carey upends Dickens's story of the convict who makes a gentleman out of the orphan boy who once helped him. Carey's convict, instead, deported for burglary in 1813, has made a lucrative career for himself as a brick-maker in New South Wales. In this version Maggs gets the better of Dickens and goes back to Australia to look after his own children and to lead a happy, successful, and wealthy life.

But we'd get tired of Jack Maggs, if it was just an exercise in mimicry. More than an imitation, this is an exploration of how writing works as a form of trickery. At the heart of the novel is the battle for mastery between Maggs and Oates in a plot, as melodramatic, creaky and violent as anything in Dickens. This conflict is threaded into a spider's web of life-stories in which no one is who they seem. Everyone is caught between the desire to keep their secrets and the urge to confess. Through all the brilliant contrivance and literary panache comes a profound sadness, looking with tenderness at peculiar humans.

Last of all was the latest one by Magnus Mills; Mistaken for Sunbathers is the third in a series of novels about a post-apocalyptic England, almost uninhabited, utterly post-industrial, but really rather pleasant, as all there is to do is enjoy yourself. Most people opt to sunbathe at the seaside, so the typical, anonymous Mills narrator is rather more focussed on duty than leisure and spends a great deal of time trying to find odd jobs to occupy himself. It is a typical Mills novel. Repetitive, wooden characters lack either purpose or initiative, hold stilted unimaginative conversations, resulting in endless repetition of plot and lots of lunch breaks. Comic genius in the manner of a contemporary Samuel Beckett. Long may Mills continue in this manner.