Joyful & Triumphant

Next week, for my very final blog of 2017, I’ll be compiling my lists of gigs and albums of the year, but just to tidy things up before we get there, here’s a rundown of the cultural events I’ve enjoyed during the last couple of months.

November started with a frenetic weekend of live action that could have been from 40 years back; Wire on the Friday night at the terminally squalid Riverside and Penetration playing what could be best described as their homecoming tour ending show at The Cluny. I was particularly delighted that Ben came home from Leeds for this weekend, as it’s always great to have a bit of the old dad and lad gigging time, with added dosage of craft ales as he gets older. The two gigs were completely different, but both stunning in their own ways. Wire was disappointingly attended; a sparse crowd for such infrequent visitors worries me, as the likelihood of further visits diminishes with every half full house. There was no question of them going through the motions though; this was the usual, intense, forensically detached performance, switching effortlessly, seamlessly, from 1977’s Three Girl Rumba to this year’s Silver / Lead. No support, minimal comment on stage and a set just shy of 75 minutes duration; in less dextrous hands it could have been viewed as on the perfunctory side of functional, but not with Wire. This was their trademark style. Simply superb.

Penetration’s autumn 40^th anniversary tour had kicked off in North Shields at the end of August, on what was one of the most triumphant, euphoric nights of live music I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying for many a long year. Of course, the thing with the chronological set is that, having seen it already, I knew how the evening was going to play out, with the only variant from August’s set being She is the Slave replacing I Don’t Mind in the encore. Consequently, I was able to enjoy the crowd reaction as much as the band, though it has to be said that they were on great form. What I love about the Penetration live experience is how their genuine affection, compassion and engagement with the audience just reflects exactly how Pauline and Rob are as people; they’re lovely and I don’t know anyone with a bad word for them. Same as Penetration; what a hell of a great musical CV they’ve compiled in their own, irascible and slightly insane way. They’ve never got rich, but they’ve never done a bad record either. The pair of Pledge Music funded 7” singles that eventually, courtesy of a few delays and mishaps, came out to celebrate the tour, are fantastic too. It’s so helpful to have a top-quality recording of those obscure early tracks: In the Future, Duty Free Technology and Race Against Time.  Meanwhile the pair of cover versions are simply exquisite; I Don’t Mind was jaw-droppingly brilliant when they debuted it in 2015, but Shake Some Action is simply stellar. One of the highlights of this musical year for me, though I’m in agreement with the band that North Shields shaded The Cluny in terms of being an event to remember.

Every Euros Childs gig is a night to remember, generally because of the weird array of venues he chooses to perform at. This time, for his first return to town in two years, he was back at the Mining Institute, but down in the lecture theatre rather than up in the library. Delightfully eccentric, slightly down at heel and not what you’d expect; just like Euros himself and just like support act, The Zahnpasta Brothers, who were as accurate a pastiche of 1978 era Human League and other proto synthpop tyros like Thomas Leer or Robert Rental as you could imagine. Squeaky, analogue bubble bath time; I liked them tremendously.

Euros Childs is an interesting case; on the whole, I love what he does, with Gorky’s, with Jonny and solo. Indeed, following his collaboration with Norman from The Fannies, I feel Euros hit the highest points in his solo career with the trio of albums: Ends, Seaside Special and Situation Comedy. The former was a sombre, deeply-affecting, introspective, piano-driven masterpiece and the latter pair showcasing his flair for rollocking goodtime mid 70s pop rock with the Roogie Boogie Band as back up. Since then, another 4 albums have followed; first of all, the slight and ephemeral Eilaaig, which mainly consisted of piano instrumentals, then the more than decent Sweetheart, which saw him reunited with Stuart Kidd and Marco Rea of the Roogie Boogie Band, before the one-trick postmodern joke that is Refresh, where 24 barely thought out experimental, electronic tracks make for an incoherent mess. However, the most recent House Arrest, the focus on the latest tour. It’s pretty good as well, with the usual daft vignettes like Charlie and Misty, total insanity My Colander and regularly affecting moments, such as Here We Are. The gig was hewn from the same fabric, with the backing band consisting only of Maria from Oh! Peas on keyboards. A very enjoyable night was made special by the sight of a young lad in the audience; aged about 9 he’d deputised for his poorly mam, so dad didn’t miss the gig. Nearly as good as my Ben’s first experience of live music being Vic Godard doing a free show on the Quayside back in 2005.

Vic was still pretty close to the Tyne when playing The Cumberland on Friday December 8^th, which saw the final hectic music weekend of the year. Saturday would see The Band of Holy Joy roll back the clock 30 years from their triumphant Xmas Ball at the late lamented Surfer’s Bar, with an intimate show at the Surf Café on the fringe of a freezing Long Sands, with the North Sea breaking on the back wall, but that was still to come.

It was my ex-wife Sara’s 50^th birthday do on Friday night, so Laura and I went there first of all, meaning we were unable to see Gary Chaplin’s expanded Quarterlight, who are now a full band, opening procedings. As a way of apology, I bought his new release; a 30-minute trio of Krautrock / electronica pieces called Flat Broke, including a very impressive take on Blackleg Miner. A brave, hypnotic venture that is hugely encouraging to see come to fruition. Buying it also stopped Gary shooting me hackies, so that was worth £5 in itself.

This gig ought to have been played last October (2016), but a personal tragedy for Vic meant it was delayed for 14 months. Consequently, not just Subway Sect, but the Band of Holy Joy (now without Bill on drums but back with Mark on bass) were long overdue on these shores. And what a show they put in; a few years ago, Johny Brown was a very angry man, declaiming The Fall / There Was a Fall about state sponsored murder, but now with the glorious, loving Funambulist We Love You, the angst of Easy Listening and pessimistic visions of Land of Holy Joy have given way to optimism and elegiac hymns to hope, such as the ironically entitled Song of Casual Indifference. The set still comes from the last 3 albums in the main, though the version of Rosemary Smith on Saturday night is one that will live forever in the minds of all who heard it, but the vision and the philosophy is all about an unshakeable belief in a brighter future.  When Johny sings I Have Travelled the Buses Late at Night it’s because he loves his fellow citizen, no longer does he fear them. The Band of Holy Joy have grown greater and more glorious, not older or more cynical; there’s a lesson for us all there. Their Cumberland gig was the best I’ve ever seen them and the Surf Café the most natural. I love them.

And I love Vic too; he had a hard job after BoHJ, because they’d have blown almost everyone else off stage. However, the newly retired postman and inveterate tea drinker knows how to work the room and yes, he won the day. From an opening Ambition, with the man himself now playing acoustic guitar, through to a triumphant closing Nobody’s Scared, Vic teased, wrestled, chatted, cajoled and charmed us all as ever. With Vic Godard, Johny Brown, Pauline Murray, Robert Blamire and Gary Chaplin in the room, we can safely say punk isn’t dead.

I wish I could say the same about my reading habits; Harry Pearson’s Connie: The Marvellous Life of Learie Constantine and Jane Lowes’s The Horsekeeper’s Daughter must wait until the new year for a review. However, I’m eternally grateful to Harry for passing on a copy of Where’s the Ground? An A-Z of Cricket Clubs in Durham, whose hand drawn maps will still serve me well in these smartphone times.

One lovely curio that Laura’s mam found for me in a charity shop was Kerry photographer Tony O’Shea’s monochrome portraits of Dublin in the late 80s and early 90s as the city changed as the Liffey became as much of an economic and social dividing point as it was a geographic one. The book, Dubliners, is complemented by a remarkably insightful and unpretentious essay by Colm Toibin. A true coffee table book, if you’re ever in Bewley’s.