First Past The Post

I went to see Andy Irvine at the Tyneside Irish Centre the other week; this is a review of the gig I did as my début piece for "The Irish Post"

With a musical career spanning more than half a century, Andy Irvine has a substantial body of work to his name. After abandoning plans for an acting career in August 1962, Irvine gravitated to the pub on Merrion Row that he celebrates in song; “O’Donoghue’s” is where he became immersed in the burgeoning Irish folk and ballad movement, though what Ronnie Drew would make of Irvine opting for Australian lager as his tipple of choice is another matter.  Johnny Moynihan, with whom Irvine founded the seminal 60s band Sweeney’s Men, may have been the person who introduced the bouzouki to Irish music, but it was Irvine who popularised it and remains the country’s foremost virtuoso on that instrument.

Surrounded by a bevy of arcane stringed instruments, such as the mandola and bass bouzouki, Irvine displayed his ability on each one in turn as he skilfully delved into his extensive back catalogue during an accomplished two and a quarter hour performance at Newcastle Irish Centre in front of a rapt and respectful audience. Each song was prefaced by a detailed explanation of the source of the number and while many, such as the Planxty classics “Arthur McBride” and “As I Roved Out,” which featured harmonica in the place of Liam O’Flynn’s pipes on the original, were from the canon of Irish traditional ballads, others displayed Irvine’s love of travel and embracing of other cultures. He transported us from the banks of the Lee to the glens of Antrim, as well as to New Zealand, The States and, most poignantly, Australia on “The Ballad of Ben Hall,” the story of a noted nineteenth century outlaw. Additionally, he gave an affectionate autobiographical take on his days as an itinerant hitchhiker stopping off in Slovenia at the end of the 1960s, with a love song to all the beautiful women he failed to woo in Ljubljana.

Irvine may not be as obviously political as his former Planxty bandmate Christy Moore, but there is a defined left wing sensibility in much of his work. He apologised for not being able to remember the words to a song in tribute to Limerick International Brigade hero Frank Ryan, choosing instead to do a number parodying Captain O’Duffy and the Blueshirts’ role in the Spanish Civil War. The final encore, “Never Tire of the Road,” saw Irvine paying tribute to his first musical hero Woody Guthrie, which included a rousing, heartfelt chorus that pointed out “you fascists are bound to lose;” if they’re up against Andy Irvine’s power and dignity, that much is certain.

Funny Handshakes

Issue 7 of The Popular Side is out on Sunday 19 April. It's the best one yet; well worth £1 or £2 inc P&P via PayPal to iancusack@blueyonder.co.uk - here's a short article I've penned -:

Two years ago on the last day of the season, I was playing in goal for Wallsend Winstons away to Pennywell Comrades at Silksworth in Division 4 of the North East over 40s League. The sun was dazzling, the wind blustery and the rutted pitch rock hard. Ten minutes from time, we were leading 1-0 when their central midfielder chested down a clearance from our defence, let it bounce once and smashed it perfectly into the top left corner. I didn’t have a chance. I don’t think I even moved. At full time, the first player I sought out to shake hands with was the fella who’d just scored past me. Sometimes you just have to acknowledge when you’ve been done by a piece of audacious skill, even when lightning strikes twice. You see, the year before, also on the last day of the season, the same bloke playing for the same team on the same pitch had scored a similar goal to give them the lead in the opening 10 minutes. At half time they lead by that strike. Just as we cleared a corner, the whistle went. Stood next to me was the goal scorer’ we had a brief chat and a laugh about the quality of his strike, before joining our respective team mates for a team talk. Nobody complained about my conversation.

The hours and days following a predictable, but still gut-wrenching fifth successive derby defeat, where cowardice rather than incompetence was the root cause, may not be the ideal time to discuss the merits of Corinthian gestures to opposition players. However, the Tim Krul handshake with Jermaine Defoe has garnered as much condemnatory comment as John Carver’s alleged tactics in the game as a whole. To be perfectly frank, I am not a fan of Krul. I believed when he came into the team that we had the basis of a genuinely world class keeper, who combined the brilliant reflexes of Shay Given, the finest goalie and finest gentleman I have had the pleasure of seeing play for Newcastle United in the 42 years I’ve followed us, with a physical presence that enabled him to command the area. However, as is so often the case with players of genuine talent at our club, initial promise has not translated into fulfilled potential. Undoubtedly Krul is a very good keeper, but he should be better; his distribution is atrocious and more concerning, he is highly susceptible to shots close to his body, resulting in a significant number of “soft” goals conceded.

Jermaine Defoe did not score a soft goal; he scored a wonder strike that was almost as good as Lauren Robert’s brace against Spurs in 2003. Krul was not unprofessional in congratulating Defoe; indeed it was the opposite, as he demonstrated an awareness of the craft and skill of a fellow professional doing his job to the best of his ability. Of course if Sky hadn’t intrusively poked their lens into the tunnel, we’d have been none the wiser about Krul’s gesture and about 50% of the NUFC related Twitter traffic on Easter Monday wouldn’t have been generated. There are many things to fulminate about our players these days, being a good sport isn’t one of them. Condemn Krul when he makes a mistake on the pitch, not when he doesn’t make one off it.

1979 Revisited: 2015 Music 2

My health and personal circumstances over the past few months haven’t been conducive to enjoying the world and all its glory, though I’ve still done my best to keep abreast of musical developments, by keeping my ears wide open. If I were to say to you that my two of my favourite albums of this year have been by The Pop Group and the Gang of Four, you may be entitled to wonder if the year in question is 1979; it isn’t, it’s 2015 and the most vital, provocative and engaging release thus far is Citizen Zombie by The Pop Group. It is without question a clear and logical move on from the band’s work from 35 years ago, still replete with stuttering, brutal funk agitprop and screaming vocals that tell of the heart of an immense darkness, served in a mix of heavy bass, scorched vocal chords and pounding rhythm of a band who sound infuriated and energised.

The mood continues on ‘Mad Truth’ which seems aimed squarely at the dancefloor. ‘S.O.P.H.I.A.’ is built around a bass line that breaks only for breath and a dose of paranoia from Stewart.  With its aggressively spoken words ‘Nations’ recalls the band’s earlier Amnesty Reports, while almost parodying the ‘Trainspotting’ mantra. ‘Age of Miracles’ is a joyous blend of bass and drum thud, syncopated guitars, sun bleached piano breaks and upbeat, if still fractious, vocals. Nick Cave observed that The Pop Group made 'violent, paranoid music for a violent, paranoid time' and we still live in violent, paranoid times, which is why Citizen Zombie is as important today as For How Much Longer Must We Tolerate Mass Murder? was in 1979.

As regular readers know, I adore Godspeed You! Black Emperor and news that a new album, Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress, was ready for release in late March had me in a high state of excitement, especially as it became clear that the album would be the live piece ‘Behemoth’ that has so captivated audiences over the last few years, even if they’ve not been anywhere near Newcastle since 2001. The opening track ‘Peasantry or Light Inside of Light’ was initially streamed as a taster and ranks alongside the band’s best. The guitar line has serious depth and sweeping portent.  It and the closing "Piss Crowns Are Trebled" are so intense and grandiose they are not songs but movements, either side of the trademark drones of ‘Lambs’ Breath’ and ‘Asunder Sweet,’ where feedback, strings and found sounds flesh out empty sonic spaces. Godspeed You! Black Emperor record and play instrumental pieces that exist to move the listener, using only the force of their deep, intense and important music. Trust them.  

When I ordered the Gang of Four’s What Happens Next from Rough Trade, they actually sent me a copy of Entertainment, which amused me no end. That 1979 release was perhaps the high water mark for all post punk, agitprop music and it endures to this day, as does 1981’a follow up, Solid Gold. Subsequent to that album, original bassist Dave Allen left to be replaced by Sara Lee. Drummer Hugo Burham bailed soon after 83’s dreadful Hard, leaving vocalist Jon King and guitarist Andy Gill to keep the project going at various levels of intensity until 2011, including a reformation of the original line-up in 2005 that I tragically missed out on seeing. Now King has gone and Gill has kept the name for this latest album, as well as recruiting a replacement singer in John Sterry. He has a pleasant enough voice and it complements Gill’s trademark scabrous guitar jitters that are as compelling now as in 1979, but the irony is that other than the opener ‘Where The Nightingale sings,’ it is the brace of tracks sung by Alison Mosshart from The Kills, ‘Broken Talk’ and the magnificent ‘England’s In My Bones’ that really stand out on this album. It’s good, it’s intense, it’s vital and impassioned, but it’s up against strong competition from The Pop Group and GY!BE in this year’s early season highlight releases. Well worth a listen though and I hope they tour.

Somehow I never quite got Belle and Sebastian, probably because they hit the scene during my itinerant years 99-02 and subsequent half decade of disengagement from music. That said, seeing them at the Sage on their greatest hits tour in 2010 was a superb show. Not owning any of their music, I was happy to accept a burned CD of their new album Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance from my mate Ginger Dave, especially as the opener ‘Nobody’s Empire’ is a superb, old school, Glasgow indie guitar song; a truly uplifting, melodic number. Strangely, other than the Stevie Jackson number ‘Ever Had A Little Faith?’ there is nothing else on this album that could be regarded as hewn from a similar rock. Instead it is a baffling mixture of cheesy euro disco  and sub Eurovision parodies, such as the mischievously titled ‘Enter Sylvia Plath.’ This album seems to have more in common with Abba and Brotherhood of Man than BMX Bandits and The Pastels and I really dislike parts of it, which probably makes up my mind about their May 16^th City Hall show and Glasgow SEC the Friday after, when I hope to be on union duties.

Other than Swans version of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart,’ I’ve never been a fan of Joy Division cover versions. The absolute nadir has to be Paul Young’s version of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart;’ I even prefer Russ Abbott’s version of ‘Atmosphere’ (yes I know…). I’ve never ever really been a fan of New Order, but I quite liked ‘Love Vigilantes’ and I thought the Oyster Band’s cover of that song was great. Consequently, when Topic Records announced that the March special offer was Oyster Band and June Tabor’s version of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ on 7” a quid, I jumped right in. I really wish I hadn’t, as it’s a rather dull reading with bellowing vocals that don’t suit the song at all; a deep female voice can work well, but not in this instance. Strangely the Oyster Band and June Tabor cover versions album and tour was greatly lauded and I remember being sad when I missed out on a ticket at a sold out Sage 2, but hearing this I may have had a lucky escape.

The only gig I’ve been to recently was Lee “Scratch” Perry at the Riverside (sic). A few words about the venue first; it isn’t the Riverside as we remember it and it’s a dump. Not only that, it’s one of the most disorganised places I’ve ever been to. The previous time there was for The Fall back in November 2011, when good old MES turned up about 45 minutes after he should have been on stage. Tonight, Lee Perry turned up on time and played from 9.30 until 10.50, which was great for the 11.00pm curfew. Sadly, the venue management were totally out of control at the end; during the encore people were being prevented from either going upstairs, where the only toilet is, or coming down. Punters were frustrated and in the end, the bloke who was the apparent manager, who was totally out of control, ended up assaulting at least 3 people for the “crime” of trying to leave the venue. The man was crazy and I sincerely hope the place sorts itself out before my next scheduled visit to see The Wedding Present on November 7^th.

As regards the Godfather of Dub; well, I hope I’m as active as he is at 79 years of age. I'd like scarlet hair like his too.Yes, he’s older and possibly even madder than my mam. Blessed by a superb backing band who enabled him to draw on elements from his entire back catalogue, switching effortlessly from genres of reggae from sweet lovers rock to more stern Rastafarian didacticism,  sounding like a heavy rock band at one minute and Van Morrison Moondance era the next, he put in a tremendous show. Anyone who appears on stage with a wheeled suitcase full of hats deserves your attention. The last encore was a crowd pleasing cover of “Exodus,” but I enjoyed the selections from The Upsetters’ Mighty Ape album best of all. Certainly an enjoyable gig and an important tick for the list of greats we all should see.

I’ve read a book as well you know. As a Fairport devotee and a lover of Sandy Denny’s voice, though someone who knew very little of her life after her departure following ‘Liege and Lief,’ Fotheringay excepted, I was delighted to accept the new biography I’ve Always Kept A Unicorn by Mick Houghton as an Easter present from Laura. It’s a detailed, exhaustive account, but perhaps too distant from the central figure to be truly affectionate. However, it certainly filled in gaps in my knowledge about her return to Fairport for Rising For The Moon. Sandy grew up in a nice house, in a nice street, with nice parents who supported her choice of career, but despite her sociable nature and obvious charisma, she was dogged by an insecurity that increased as her celebrity grew, and, by the mid-Seventies, was fuelled by heavy drinking and cocaine use that precipitated her death at the age of 31 after a series of falls.

Mick Houghton’s scrupulously researched biography draws a detailed picture both of Denny’s increasingly complex mental state and of the London folk scene of the time. If there are times, in chronicling Denny’s early career, when Houghton gets bogged down in detail, he nonetheless offers a revealing portrait of a close-knit and mutually supportive scene. As well as drawing on archive interviews and Denny’s private and previously unseen notebooks, Houghton has assembled an impressive roll call of interviewees in a work that is part oral history, part critical reflection, including interviews with the likes of Ralph McTell, Judy Collins, John Martyn, Linda Thompson, and Martin Carthy, whose remark “there was a hooligan busting to get out in Sandy” is particularly apt here. Later it was fame, followed by marriage and motherhood (in 1977, she gave birth to her only child, Georgia), that would prove suffocating. Thus, in her final years, the hooligan emerged. As this authoritative and comprehensive biography underlines, it was Denny’s combination of addiction, insecurity and self-doubt that caused her tragically early demise.

On Election Day 2015, I will be in hospital having an ultrasound scan to determine the precise nature of my on-going health issues. On Election Day 2010, my dear friend David Peace went to Easington Colliery in County Durham to interview veterans of the 1984/1985 miners’ strike to see how they felt about the legacy of that glorious, failed fight. The resulting text acts as a prefatory chapter to a selection of photographer Keith Pattison’s stunning visual account of the progress of the strike, combined in volume entitled No Redemption. It was the only one of David’s works I did not possess, until I found it in Northumbria University’s bookshop. Flicking through the pages, reading the memories of those brave men and women who fought so valiantly, I feel not despair or anger, but pride and hope. These bastards in charge can’t last forever; do what you need to on May 7^th.

So, where next? Well there’s Record Store Day next week, when I hope to pick up the Trembling Bells 7” and Wire’s eponymous new release. Live, it’s Andy Irvine at the Irish Centre on April 16^th and Band of Holy Joy at The Cluny on May 8^th. I’m sure I’ll write about these in turn.

Rolling Thunder Review

Easter is a great time for football. While extremist Christians may seek to force their weird rituals on a populace who are culturally at variance with such arcane beliefs, as most people seem to regard the holiday weekend not as a time to remember when Jesus died for his own sins, not mine, but rather as an excuse for a 4 day bender, I always look forward to the annual West Allotment Celtic v Whitley Bay game on the Friday and a Northern Alliance Cup Final on the Monday, which will be between Gateshead Leam Rangers and Grainger Park at Percy Main this year. No doubt the crowd will be mainly full of miserable, hungover blokes moaning about yet another calamity against the Unwashed, but it’s a game worth seeing isn’t it?

Holy / Maundy Thursday was dry, cool, overcast and windy; Good Friday was predominantly saturated. As I plodged to Tynemouth Metro for the journey to Benton, pools of fresh rainwater told of an overnight downpour. It was still teeming with rain at kick off; a decent crowd of about 300 gathered to see a tense, scrappy affair on a spongy pitch that cut up in sections, which ended 1-1. West Allotment would probably be pleased with a point, as it keeps them clear of the drop zone, though the fact they took the lead means they could view this as 2 points dropped.

At full time, the gents I was in company with began to debate what they’d do with rest of the weekend until 4.00 Sunday. It was easy for me; Saturday would include Benfield v Consett in the afternoon after the usual morning in the Over 40s, away to Whitburn. However, Friday wasn’t going to involve a day on the gargle unlike everyone else (and not just because of doctor’s orders either), but a trip to Kingston Park to see the opening game of the rugby league season between Newcastle Thunder and Barrow Raiders. This was an event I wouldn’t even have known about, if it weren’t for the free paper I had delivered last week. Carrying it from the hall to the kitchen recycling bin, I saw an advert for Thunder v Barrow, with an offer for free tickets for the first 10 people to email the club. I did as suggested and, by return, was told I’d won; the envelope with a pair of tickets arrived the next morning, which seemed a decent bargaining point with which to try and rekindle the spirit of dad and lad sports outings with him home from Leeds. Mind, the fact he’d been out to world Headquarters until half seven or something meant he wasn’t in the most communicative of moods, so no change there then. Our next excursion is to see Lee “Scratch” Perry next Friday, where conservation will presumably be impossible.

Other than watching Ben play both codes for club and school, I’ve only ever seen one live game of rugby in my life. Back in 2009 when he’d just started playing for Wallsend rugby league and Novocastrians rugby union, I decided to try and get involved, from an admittedly non-existent knowledge base. There was no point in trying to take him to see the Falcons as cheap tickets from Novos were available for most games and, having completely missed out on Thunder’s time in the Super League years ago, the junior section of the rugby league administrators had that side of the sport all sorted out. Ben got free tickets to Magic Weekend in Murrayfield, a trip to see St Helens v Wigan and the chance to act as a ball boy, as he did for an international between England and France at Doncaster, so it was up to me to try and instil a bit of local pride. We went to Gateshead Stadium to watch a Challenge Cup tie against Whitehaven that the home side won 42-38. I wouldn’t say I particularly understood the game, but I enjoyed the experience, aided by the input of an excited 14 year old who’d fallen head over heels in love with the 13 man code and I always thought I’d go again.

Ben had a season ticket with Thunder until 2011, when the continual change of players, sponsors and managers, not to mention a series of horrific losses including a 100 point reverse at Bramley, sapped his enthusiasm. A lack of sleep and a gallon of Peroni had done it for this game, but at least he pitched up with me to see the debut fixture for Newcastle Thunder, who have changed their name after ditching the vast and soulless Gateshead Stadium for the compact and soulless Kingston Park, which now boasts a state of the art 4G pitch. As I say, I’ve never seen the Falcons, nor did I see Blue Star during their ill-fated tenancy there, but I must have seen upwards of a couple of dozen NUFC reserve games there a decade or so back. It was always windy. It was always pissing down. It was always freezing. Not this time though; the rain had stopped and there wasn’t any hint of a breeze by mid afternoon. Still bloody cold though, as we tramped down from the Metro with a couple of dozen others.

There was no discernible demographic to this tribe; solitary middle aged blokes, a few dads and lads, the odd family or knot of young fellas, but not much evidence of Thunder merchandise. If anything, I saw a few Falcons fleeces and umbrellas; perhaps union regulars had been granted freebies in the way we had been. That would go some way towards explaining the healthy crowd of 1,522, which was the highest in third-level League 1 and higher than both games in the step above Championship (including Workington’s 40-0 trouncing of Whitehaven in the Cumbrian derby), who were all contained in the large West Stand. Impressive though the turnout was I’d wager it would be less than 20% of the attendance for a Falcons game. I’ve no idea what a rugby union away support is like, nor a league one, but I’d estimate Barrow had in excess of 250 there, judging by the 4 coaches that had journeyed over from Cumbria. Would many Conference level football teams attract that level of support? You tell me. Certainly, I was impressed by their passion and relentless support, even in the face of the defeat they suffered.

Thunder, boasting a trio of Samoans, played what seemed to be an attacking and expansive game, triumphing 34-22 over a Barrow side who looked like a load of very big, very hard blokes, but didn’t seek to move the ball with the verve or panache of the home team.  However, the crowd appreciated the efforts of both teams, to the extent that victors and vanquished came across to applaud the two sets of fans, who didn’t depart at the final whistle, but adjoined to the bar in the back of the stand for post-match pints which, same as pre match and during match pints, is a real rugby league tradition, as is friendship and camaraderie. I would wonder if this is the case between the two Hull sides, or Leeds and Bradford or St Helens and Wigan, but it is seemingly de rigeur in the third tier and it was touching to see. It reminded me of the sense of unity and commonality so prevalent in the Northern League.

Sadly, being desperately hungover and on the wagon respectively, we didn’t partake, opting instead to make a slow journey home by public transport, allowing me to muse on the experience as junior fell into a reverie. Did I enjoy it? Surprisingly, yes and I would certainly contemplate going again, as I seemed to understand all the rules. I have to say that the knock on rule in rugby league is a rather strict one.

There were some bizarre touches; the Frank Sinatra tribute act on in the bar before the game and at half time, the mother and daughter in head to toe Thunder merchandise each accompanied by a snoozing lap dog, the pair of blokes in Stone Island clobber moodily supping two pint containers in the back of the stand muttering to each other about Barrow, who they conceded had brought “a canny squad.” Each to their own…

Saturday 4 April will be the 40^th consecutive Saturday I’ll have seen a game of football, with the potential of seeing games until 12 June, which will make it 50 straight weeks from 5 July last year and Benfield 2 Annan Athletic 2; if I still need more exposure to team sports other than Northumberland CC, I’ll come back to see Thunder, who I hope take the division by storm.

Ground Works

The one thing I regret most about 2014/2015 is that I’ve not been to more Northern League grounds, specifically to watch my club Newcastle Benfield. While I’ve visited 14 grounds in total so far, only 7 of those have been with Benfield. I may get to one more ground this season, Penrith on April 25^th, but it clearly isn’t enough of an effort to get round the whole of the Northern League. I am still to visit Newton Aycliffe and Ryhope CW as well as Penrith’s new home, before I can claim to have completed my set. During my 7 trips with Benfield, I’ve seen losses at Jarrow Roofing, Bedlington Terriers, North Shields, Whitley Bay (5-3 after being 3-1 up with 13 minutes to go, scarcely credibly) and West Auckland Town 2-0, a goalless draw at Dunston UTS (disappointed to see there weren’t any half Cusack / half Wraith commemorative scarves on sale) and a solitary victory, 5-2 at Crook Town. In addition, I’ve seen games at West Allotment Celtic and Bishop Auckland in Division 1, as well as second division games at Team Northumbria, Hebburn Town, Chester le Street Town and Whickham. To me, the 3 most interesting grounds I’ve been to this season, in order of visiting them, have been Crook Town, Bishop Auckland and West Auckland Town.

2014/2015 has been a bloody awful season for Crook Town; after an opening day draw away to North Shields, the sponsor disappeared, the club slashed the playing budget, nearly all the staff left and veteran manager Peter Mulcaster had to start from scratch. They were effectively relegated by Christmas, having only managed one win, at home to West allotment, and a draw at Benfield when only a 93^rd minute Paul Brayson volley denied them victory. There has been rumour of relocation from their glorious old Millfield ground, which is perhaps the only one in the Northern League with steps up to terracing behind the goal and two large structures along one touchline, in terms of a covered enclosure and a seated stand. The idea that they move to the nearby municipal Peases West sports facility is not one to be encouraged. Unlike Shildon who harbour ambitions of progress and so may leave the venerable Dean Street for the functional Middridge Athletics Stadium, Crook only have reorganisation and regrouping on the horizon; they really should stay at Millfield, even if the snow flurries on the afternoon I visited with Harry Pearon proved the stand roof was for decorative rather than practical purposes. I sincerely hope it is not another 18 years before I visit Crook again.

I only ever visited Bishop Auckland’s original Kingsway ground once; for a 2-2 draw in the Durham County Cup against Spennymoor in October 1995 that attracted a crowd of 570 on a Monday evening. A great occasion when I recall Bishops keeper Kevin Wolfe telling a Charles Hawtree lookalike Spennymoor fan to “put your teeth back in four eyes.” Back then both teams were in the Northern Premier League, from which they fell like stones, though Spennymoor, by the sleight of hand that saw them amalgamate with Evenwood Town in the way Austria amalgamated with Germany in 1938, managed to get a leg-up and eventually were promoted out of the Northern League last summer. Bishops remain in the Northern League, having conspicuously failed to pull up any trees since they arrived back, though they do have the new Heritage Park ground. I missed Benfield’s 4-4 draw there on a Tuesday night in early January, so when my mate Gary offered a lift down there for a Friday night game (the groundshare with Darlo means the lower placed hosts have to accede to their guests’ fixtures when there’s a clash) against Jarrow Roofing a couple of weeks back, I was delighted to accept.  Heritage Park may be a new ground, but under floodlights I thought it was a top quality ground; a superb stand on one side, a covered end and a freebie uncovered stand behind the far goal donated by Darlo mean that were Bishops to get it right on the pitch (as well as sorting out a pitch that seems to hold water like a sponge, resulting in games being called off whenever it gets a bit cloudy), they’d be in prime position to make a move back up the leagues. Heritage Park may be the absolute polar opposite of Millfield, but I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to a ground that is neat, impressive and state of the art. It’s also handy for Sainsbury’s if you want to get the shopping in as well. The game was decent as well; Bishops deservedly coming out on top, 2-1.

I’d only ever been to West Auckland Town once before; a dreary 1-0 win over Whickham in February 1997 when I was hellbent on completing my northern League set, which I did when heading up the hill to Evenwood Town a month later. Back then, West Auckland were a struggling second division side, but they’re established themselves as one of the title favourites this season, building on the excellent work of former manager Peter Dixon who twice took them to Wembley in the FA Vase. Back in November, Benfield put in one of our best performances of the season, trouncing them 3-0, but it was always going to be hard to replicate it on a windy day with a bumpy pitch to deal with. In the end, we lost 2-0 to a pair of shots from outside the box by a side that were hungrier for the win than we were. Darlington Road has been improved massively; no longer can drivers sit in their cars watching the game. There’s a decent terrace behind the top goal and a perfectly serviceable little stand as well. A decent crowd, a football lesson and a lift home from Gary; not a bad day all told, even if we lost.

Thanks to Gary for the photos of West and Bishops; appreciated

Green Shoots

Ireland has been in the news this week, primarily because of the Six Nations result. I have to admit that did please me, but the game of rugby union appears to have gone the way of limited overs cricket where all that matters is high scores and not tactics. It’s getting like basketball isn’t it? Mind, I did note in the pub on Saturday that West Ham’s late winner got a far louder chant than any England try.  

Anyway, turning our back on the 15 man code revenge for Skibbereen, we had St. Patrick’s Day this week. I celebrated it by skirting by seemingly deserted Hebburn Orange Lodge, attached to the Protestant Conservative Club, and heading to see Hebburn Town thump Birtley Town 4-1. On the way back, it occurred to me that the 2015 League of Ireland season has started and I’ve not written anything about it. Well, let’s put that right shall we?

My lack of engagement with the real Friday night football has partly been on account of the delay and possible cancellation of the curtain-raising, cross-border Setanta Cup, won in 2014 by Sligo Rovers over Dundalk in a monsoon at the Halting Site in Tallaght. Without the fanfare this competition occasions, how was I to know the hostilities had begun in earnest? This year, the current status of the competition is undecided, but it’s rumoured that cup and league champions of each football association play off against each other, to ensure a South v North final, probably in November after the Airtricity campaign finishes.  A glorified friendly in the middle of winter; that’ll see the fans flock to attend.

So, to recap on 2014; Dundalk were the Champions and EA (League) Cup winners, St Patrick’s Athletic won the FAI Cup, Athlone, who are rumoured to be in financial trouble, and UCD were relegated, Galway and Longford were promoted and Shamrock Rovers Reserves resigned from the First Division after 2 inglorious campaigns. With the second flight now only having 7 teams, another volunteer was sought; up stepped Cabinteely from the moneyed pastures of south Dublin. They’ll play their games at Blackrock rugby club in Stradbrook, basically because their home ground is a public park and no other teams were interested in filling the vacancy.  

Cabinteely have started off reasonably well; a 1-0 win over Wexford Youths in their first game was followed by a first round EA Cup win over local rivals UCD (all Garda Síochána leave south of Merrion Square cancelled that night) that has set them up facing Shamrock Rovers in round 2. Other EA Cup giant killers include University College Cork who won 2-1 away in Wexford and now face basement side, managerless Cobh Ramblers, as well as Crumlin United who saw off Bray Wanderers 4-2, though the Mayo League lost 8-0 to Sligo. Cockhill Celtic from Buncrana in Donegal got a bye to round 2, which is the last 16, and are drawn away to Galway. Ties take place on Easter Monday.

Returning to the league, after 3 games Athlone lead the First Division on goal difference from Finn Harps and Shelbourne, with all 3 teams having 7 points so far. In the top flight, Bohemians proudly stand on top of the table with maximum points, on goal difference from Dundalk. Bray are bottom, having lost every game, while Limerick and Longford are only a point better off. It’s early days of course…

I’m hoping, if my health is up to it, to get over in June; on Friday 12^th, Cabinteely host Athlone and Drogheda United play Derry City. I’ve not been to either of those grounds. Hopefully I’ll also get to see some GAA, though I’m a bit disappointed with Cork throwing away a 12 point lead over Tipp today in the hurling. The league’s don’t matter to most GAA fans, or so I’m lead to believe.

Anyway, more news on the League of Ireland and GAA as it occurs to me….

Sabbath Bloody Sabbath

This Sunday is Mothers’ Day, which used to be called Mothering Sunday in the days when television was in black and white. Of course I’ll be going to visit my mam, but there’s no reason for me to take chocolates or flowers or perfume as a gift, as her place of residence is North Tyneside General Hospital, where she is being detained as part of a Deprivation of Liberty order that first came into force on December 20^th; the Saturday before Christmas. She was initially admitted to hospital as she was suffering from confusion caused, we thought, by a Urinary Tract Infection, but when tests showed no infection, the inescapable conclusion was dementia and at that point, we lost any control or influence over her future. We’d recognised she was getting older, frailer and in need of extra specialist help that we simply could not give; hence, we got carers to visit, 4 times a day at the end, as well as district nurses visiting twice a day for medication, but it wasn’t enough. She needs 24 hour supervision to stop her from harming herself. Falls have been a constant issue as well.

Despite the fact I promised her faithfully at my dad’s funeral back in 2009 that I’d always look after her and that she’d never end up in care, I finally have to admit defeat, which makes me feel worthless and a failure, but there is no way I can argue with the opinions of the medics who have stated my mam lacks competency in the areas of nutrition, hygiene and safety. In short, this means she can’t look after herself, she can’t ask others to look after her and she can’t recognise she has such needs. Despite struggling with mobility issues because of severe osteoarthritis, her dementia has given her the strength to wander and this is the real deal breaker; several times in the autumn she was brought back to her sheltered accommodation by local residents and even the police on a couple of occasions, but she managed to keep it from us, in her moments of infrequent clarity. Her dementia has caused this decline and she’ll never recover mental capacity ever again. I can’t even begin to express how this makes me feel. Suffice to say, unlike last year, Laura and I won’t be taking her out for Sunday lunch and a few drinks. Indeed, we’ll never take her anywhere ever again. The next move for my mam is to either a care home, if we can find a suitable one, or a secure EMI (elderly mentally ill) unit, but that’s not the end of the story. Not only do I have my mam’s situation to contend with, I’ve also got the fact I am starting to show symptoms consistent with early onset dementia myself, which will require a complex series of tests before I get to the bottom of things. You’ll probably understand why I’m not going to the pub on Sunday, as if I start drinking, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.

But don’t let me put you off a leisurely afternoon in the boozer, with or without the old dear. It’s the accepted way to spend Mothering Sunday in 2015. The world has changed and sometimes I find it a strange and terrible place. Have you ever wondered just how Sunday turned from being a day of inertia, where all forms of recreation were legally stifled by the intolerance of Christian legislation into the bacchanalian weekly festival of excess it has become? Pubs are as busy on Sunday afternoons for food and football as they are on Friday nights it seems. Certainly some of the credit for Britain throwing off the straitjacket of enforced religious morality must go to the 1988 Licensing Act, which liberalised Sunday hours to the extent they changed from 12-2 and 7-10.30 to 12-3 and 7-10.30.  This curious anomaly of a bygone era of Christian observance utterly out of step with the reality of late 20th century life persisted until The Sunday Hours Licencing Act permitted all day opening 7 days a week from 1995 onwards.  This modification of the 1988 Act came as a result of pressure from both those in the pub trade, who identified a potentially lucrative market in family lunches on the Sabbath and the retail sector, who had gained the legal right for shops to open every day of the week via the 1994 Sunday Trading Act and saw a clear potential link between the two areas of consumer consumption. In an era where the mammoth Friday evening check-out queues at supermarkets have largely been replaced by a Sunday snarl up, it seems hard to recollect an earlier time when the Day of Rest was precisely that. Walking through the almost entirely deserted centre of Newcastle on a Sunday afternoon in the late 1980s and early 1990s, any potential customer would be restricted to spending their hard earned on either the wares on offer at Boots the Chemist by Grey’s Monument or RS McColl’s newsagent’s at the top of Pilgrim Street.

Other than for international tournaments, Sunday football was, of course, in its infancy back then as well.  Two games against Manchester United, a goalless league fixture in November 88 and a 2-3 loss in the FA Cup fifth round in February 90, as well as a draw with sunderland in a morning kick-off, insisted on by the Police, a fortnight prior to the latter game, were the only fixtures played on a Sunday at St James’ Park before the advent of Sky TV’s takeover of the national game via the Premier League. Keen students of chronology will note Newcastle United were not in the top flight in the Premier League’s debut season, but ITV got in on the live broadcasting act, by moving home ties with Swindon, Millwall, Derby, Birmingham, sunderland and Leicester and away games at Brentford, sunderland, Barnsley, West Ham and Tranmere, for live transmission. A dozen games, all free to air; could you imagine that now?  The season after, following NUFC’s promotion, the anachronism encapsulated by Sunday closing could clearly be seen by gangs of blokes hanging around in city centre pub doorways waiting for opening time and Sky’s second showing of that afternoon’s game. I distinctly remember queues similar to those seen at the Gallowgate turnstiles outside every pub on the Haymarket, waiting for access to the re-run of Andy Cole’s famed hat trick in the 3-0 demolition of Liverpool in November 1993. Bearing in mind such enthusiasm and the potential for turning a dollar by packing the pubs for the live showing of games, it would be foolish to discount to influence of Rupert Murdoch on the British political establishment in terms of providing a vastly increased market for his product, in the days before domestic satellite and cable television was the norm. Nowadays, everyone has access to Sky Sports; hell I’ve got it for free on my phone. However, what has been introduced into the British weekend experience is the concept of going to the pub on a Sunday afternoon to watch the Sky game, whoever may be playing.

Actually, the good news is that Everton v Newcastle isn’t on the telly this Sunday, so I might yet hold a pint glass in my shaking hands…

Undefeated Redux

Issue 12 of "Stand" fanzine is the best one yet and I'm proud to have this article in there. It's something I originally wrote for "The Popular Side" #6, but rewrote to try & be more general in "Stand."

T.S. Eliot was wrong; April isn’t the cruellest month, January is. Just look at the fortunes of Newcastle United in the opening weeks of 2015: inactive in the transfer window, disinclined to appoint a permanent successor for Alan Pardew and displaying trademark indifferent form on the pitch, whereby the only chance we deluded Geordies had to jump for joy was a wholly undeserved point at home to Burnley on New Year’s Day. We’ll not even mention the annual FA Cup third round surrender, or the fact that the squad was rewarded for their abject defeat away to Leicester at the earliest opportunity with a week’s warm weather training in Dubai, that had allegedly been booked before the draw was made back in December. This is the banal, depressing reality of life on Tyneside under Mike Ashley.

Let’s look on the bright side eh? While the players enjoyed a sporting sinecure among the beautiful people in the UAE, supporters were left to kick over the bones of a dismal 2-1 home loss to Southampton and speculate that the future promises no better as the U21s, as we must now call the Reserves, went down at home to Blackburn Rovers the Tuesday after. Bookending these two games were a pair of meetings that should have been of interest to all followers of Newcastle United who seek to do more about the state of our club than simply whine and grumble about the owner on a variety of social media platforms.

On Thursday 15^th January, the vibrant and inclusive independent supporters network NUFC Fans United (@NUFCFansUtd), created out of frustration with the inert and ineffectual Newcastle United Supporters’ Trust (NUST), and NUFC fanzine The Popular Side (@PopularSideZine) co-hosted a meeting at the Tyneside Irish Centre on Gallowgate where the keynote speaker was David Goldblatt, academic, football fan and author of Game of Our Lives: The Cultural Politics of English Football, which is the first essential book I’ve read in 2015. Those who filled the upstairs concert room on a bitterly cold evening were rewarded with an inspirational talk, whereby David delineated a draft manifesto for footballing change, outlining the cause and effect of the rotten core of our national game, the inability of current legislation and legislators to actively challenge these problems and a series of suggestions, both practical and theoretical, that could help us to reclaim football for the people who really matter; the fans. I’m sure the details of the manifesto will emerge soon, but suffice to say, no-one who cares about the game can fail to respond to suggestions that ticket pricing, the match day experience, especially as an away fan, institutional racism, chronic underfunding of the grassroots game, the refusal of many clubs to pay all employees a living wage and the lack of effective regulation of clubs, owners and supporters’ trusts, need thorough examination and, in several instances, legal intervention.

As part of a fact finding tour to take the temperature among committed activists up and down the country, David had already hosted a gathering in London before Christmas in conjunction with Stand and, having flown up at his own expense to Tyneside, was off to Manchester the day after to attend a similar event, with meetings in other cities in the pipeline. The purpose was to listen, to learn and refine the 11 point manifesto and, in advance of the May election, to provide a coherent document that will encourage politicians to think seriously about the national game. For more than 2 hours, debate was maintained on a wide range of issues, with supporters not just of Newcastle, but Middlesbrough and Hull City, who’d driven 120 miles to be there, in attendance and able to contribute positive suggestions in an atmosphere of mutual support and admiration. There is far more that unites us than divides us as football fans; something we should never forget. As the meeting drew to a close, NUFC Fans United resolved to work hard to ensure that this appetite for structural change is channeled positively, by holding future monthly planning meetings for the purpose of organizing an event related to the launch of the manifesto at a game in April, with Swansea on the 25^th looking favourite. 

On Wednesday 21^st January, NUST held its Annual General Meeting at The Mining Institute by Central Station. Created by the storm of righteous supporter anger at the disgraceful treatment of Kevin Keegan in 2008, NUST has subsequently lost its campaigning zeal and stagnated to the point of ossification from 2010 onwards, to the extent that the wider NUFC support base, if they even recognise its continued existence, view the Trust with either indifference or disdain verging on contempt. There were no apologies asked for or taken and only those who spoke to the meeting announced their names; consequently I am unsure exactly how many members of the elected 12 member NUST board were actually present, but certainly several were inexplicably absent. In addition there was no representative in attendance from either the Football Supporters Federation or Supporters Direct. If there had been, one wonders exactly how they would have reacted to the unequivocal announcement by one the NUST Board that “public meetings don’t work.” This statement was not a point for discussion; it was presented as a desperately depressing fact. Frankly I find the suggestion that a supporters’ trust would not seek to provide a platform for all fans to attend and give their opinions quite staggering and another reason why, as much as owners and boards of directors should be subject to regulation as to their activities, we need the regulation of supporter organisations. If NUST were an effective vehicle for fan interaction and representation, there would be no need for NUFC Fans United to exist.

I do accept that supporters’ trusts are to an extent hampered and hidebound by their constitutional regulations, but NUST’s future plans for contact with members by inviting a select few to attend board meetings or to hold “surgeries” seemed to me akin to the activities of a constituency Labour Party in the 1980s; regulations, rules and procedure being more important than activism. The irony being that during the 46 minute AGM, several NUST board members recognised the need for campaigns about ticket pricing and the need to pay a living wage, not to mention calling for an agreed national political strategy in advance of the election. Unfortunately the endless round of committee meetings with other trusts will no doubt result in the enthusiasm being squeezed out of a project that could run in conjunction with the visionary work of David Goldblatt that will empower fans across the whole country.

I make no bones about the fact I feel that the attempt to ride the zeitgeist of spontaneous fan activism as espoused by David Goldblatt has far more chance of capturing the imagination than the meticulous paper-shuffling of supporters’ trusts. However, here is a reality check. NUFC Fans United attracted 31 to the David Goldblatt talk-in and the NUFC Trust AGM was attended by 23 of the 769 fully paid-up members. Meanwhile, 49,307 watched the Southampton game and even 509 frozen human peas rattled round the St James Park pod for the Under 21s game. That is what we are up against; the indifference, cynicism and despair of, do the maths, 99% of supporters. The choice is clear; we either throw our hands up in despair or we grit our teeth and redouble our efforts to take the argument for greater fan involvement and better regulation of the game to all supporters. That’s why I’m looking forward to the Swansea game in late April. Don’t despair; keep fighting!

Extreme Folk Terror ; 2015 Music 1

Everything that follows has possibly been rendered irrelevant by the news that Godspeed You! Black Emperor are releasing a new album on March 31^st, but let’s do our best to keep calm in the meantime…

If you’re looking for someone to blame for what I’m about to tell you, then Alex Neilson of Trembling Bells is an appropriate scapegoat. Not content with being drummer, vocalist and chief songwriter with the finest contemporary folk psychedelic outfit in the known world, the Yorkshire Glaswegian has also formed two other outfits that have markedly influenced my musical tastes over the last few months, sending my aural curiosities spiralling towards hitherto unknown territories. Firstly, he arrived at the Bridge Hotel last August with his “balls to the wall” Free Jazz outfit Death Shanties and split my head open with the immense noise they created. Consequently, I’ve been out and investigated what this genre means these days, courtesy of Viennese Theremin terrorists Blueblut, as well as a couple of Sun Ra and his Arkestra recordings found amid the smouldering stock embers of the late, lamented Volcanic Tongue Records, where Alex was once employed I believe. 

However, Free Jazz tells only half the story. At the very end of 2014, the final album I bought last year was by Alex’s other vehicle, the unaccompanied vocal group Crying Lion, which includes Trembling Bells’ genius vocalist Lavinia Blackwell, who released the stunning “The Golden Boat,” which simply blew me away in every possible way. Logging on to Facebook to pass this praise on, I was given an automated suggestion to like Topic Records (http://www.topicrecords.co.uk/), who for 75 years have kept the flame burning for Cecil Sharp and ethnomusicologists everywhere, with innumerable folk releases that are for people who hear little difference between the work of Kate Rusby and Lady Gaga. As a kid, I remember my Uncle Brian giving my dad a Topic release as a birthday present; the scratched and beaten up album “Canny Newcassel,” including Ed Pickford, Johnny Handle, Louis Killen and Bob Davenport among others (of whom more later) passed into my possession after my dad’s death and it’s a good nostalgic listen, including Tyneside songs from the mid-19^th century onwards.

The thing was, while listening to Crying Lion, on vinyl wonderfully enough, I was able to read around the subject and what became clear to me, apart from the fact I needed to plug huge gaps in my musical knowledge about 60s folk music, was that Topic Records were a company I needed to spend time learning about. Well, after a few hours playing around on their website and various social media platforms, I found myself having purchased or borrowed CDs and vinyl by the following artists (in alphabetical order): Anne Briggs, Peter Bellamy, Shirley Collins, The Copper Family, Bob Davenport and Louis Killen, who have provided me with various levels of enjoyment and the opportunity to sing lustily and atonally along with.

For me, the most breath-taking talents from that list are the amazing, uncompromising releases by obstinate hedonist Anne Briggs and doomed, Bohemian traditionalist Peter Bellamy. Born in Nottingham and orphaned as a child, Briggs left home to sing in folk clubs in London when barely 16. Possessing a voice that only Sandy Denny or Lavinia Blackwell could hold a candle to, she sought the primacy of art above all else, eschewing commercial success or even regular recordings, while living an itinerant lifestyle, including much time in Ireland with Johnny Moynihan of Sweeney’s Men (incidentally, I’m immensely looking forward to Andy Irvine at the Tyneside Irish on April 16^th). The CD I purchased of her greatest moments has stunning versions of “Polly Vaughan,” “Blackwaterside” and “She Moved through the Fair” that have actually improved my life by hearing them. As I say, she is part of a trinity of divine female voices alongside Sandy and Lavinia; that is the highest praise I can offer. I borrowed this CD from my mate Ginger Dave and returned it; he said subsequently I could keep it. I must get it back from him soon.

Poor Peter Bellamy killed himself back in 1991, convinced his life had been a commercial and artistic failure. The photo of him I have used here is one that shows him utterly ecstatic while singing; it’s the one I like best as I find his death such a tragedy. As yet, despite Alex’s recommendations, I haven’t as yet come across Bellamy’s first recordings with the Young Tradition, a group he formed after Anne Briggs urged him to drop out of Art College. Following YT’s disintegration after a few years, Bellamy followed a solo career as, in his own self-deprecating phrase, “a boring, bleating traddy.” This is totally unfair, as his “Both Sides Then” album is another stunning release, featuring Dave Swarbrick on some tracks, with Bellamy on accordion or unaccompanied on others. The opening “Barbaree” is a glorious, rollicking reading and one that almost makes me wish to punch the air. “The Housecarpenter” is a saddening story of tragic love, while “Derry Gaol,” also known as “The Streets of Derry” when Andy Irvine and Paul Brady do it, is even better than Sarah Makem’s supposedly definitive version. Bellamy’s tragic death should not overshadow the true genius of his work and I must find out some Young Tradition material soon.

Of a far more cheerful stamp are The Copper Family. Hailing from Rottingdean in Sussex, several generations of the family have sang joyous numbers of English rural life for pushing 150 years. First commented on by Kate Lee (a friend of Sir Edward Carson no less!!) in 1898, they were recorded in the early 50s for the “Come Write Me Down” CD, though at the time it was basically the BBC increasing their archives of a supposedly dying tradition. The four voices on that album, brothers  John and Jim Copper and their sons Ron and Bob, are all dead, but the joyous celebration of harvesting, spring and ordinary rural pleasures hint at a kind of pre Christian almost Pagan simplicity. Of course Fairport did a superb version of “Banks of the Sweet Primeroses,” but it is glorious to hear it unaccompanied, as well as Steeleye Span’s hit “Hard Times of Old England.” Also to be recommended is the celebratory “When Spring Comes In.” As someone who always scorned the optimistic nature of much English folk when compared to Irish folk politics, this is a refreshing change. I’m also delighted to see The Copper Family still continue with grandchildren and great grandchildren of John and Jim performing for the midwinter solstice in Rottingdean.

Also from Sussex is Shirley Collins, who with her sister Dolly accompanying her on portable pump organ,  was also an integral part of the 60s English Folk revival. However, I have to say she comes a very poor second to Anne Briggs in terms of female vocalists being, for my tastes, too formal and emotionless. Also, she lacks the warmth of The Copper Family and sounds as a little sullen for my tastes. Perhaps she’s too English for me. Actually, she reminds me of Rose West impersonating Maddy Prior.

Sadly, I also didn’t particularly enjoy Bob Davenport’s 70^th birthday CD, “The Common Stone,” although I’m pleased to hear “The Bold Fenian Men” sung by someone with a broad Geordie accent, which does justify much of my post-closing time oratory these past 30 years I suppose.  Davenport was born in Gateshead, but headed off to London aged around 20 and ran folk clubs all around the capital, though all I knew of him was that he introduced Fairport to “The Hexhamshire Lass” which unfortunately doesn’t appear here on a set where arrogance drips from every pore, in my opinion.  It’s not a CD I will return to.

Another Tyneside born person who ran folk clubs was Louis Killen, who started the Bridge Hotel folk club in the late 50s/early 60s. As a young man, my dad sang with Luke Kelly of The Dubliners, who gave his first public performance in that bar. If only I’d asked him more about this before he died. Killen came from a Geordie Irish family and eventually moved to the States, where he joined The Clancy Brothers in the 1970s and 1980s, returning home to retire, passing away 5 years ago.  Recorded on Topic, found on vinyl for £2 at Tynemouth market one Sunday in January, “Along the Coaly Tyne” is patchy to these ears. I find much of the mannered excessively Geordie voices too histrionic for my tastes; certainly the overwrought version of “The Trimdon Grange Explosion” is far inferior to either Martin Carthy or The Mekons’ versions. However, I suppose it is good to have a local artefact as important as this.

Since I’ve signed up to Topic’s monthly newsletter, I’ve established a wishlist that includes The McPeake Family, The Watersons and, of course, Seamus Ennis, though the great thing about Topic, rather like dropping into Listen Ear records in Newcastle in 1978 and asking to hear the latest Rough Trade or Small Wonder release, is that unexpected suggestions appear and take you in hitherto unimagined directions. Hence, I have 3 hours of unaccompanied Sean-Nos singing by Joe Heaney (more properly Seosamh Ó hÉanaí) as his CD was February’s bargain of the month. Sticking his unknown name into google, I came across a live version of “Rocks of Bawn” (sadly not on this record) and was immediately struck by my need to purchase this. While 3 hours of Sean-Nos is pretty hard going there are some gems; “Skibereen,” “Bean Phaidin,” “The Valley of Kockanure,” “The Bogs of Shanaheever,” “Claudy Banks” and “Lonely Woods of Upton” in particular.

It also whetted my appetite to find out more about the whole idea of Sean-Nos and I’m determined to get hold of something by Darach Ó Catháin, or Dudley Kane as his family in Leeds knew him. Whatever you call him, “Oró 'sé Do Bheatha Abhaile” is stunning; incredible.  Not only that, but I learned of the incredible Irish art of lilting; literally diddly-dee-ing along to music, or instead of music. Seamus Fay from County Cavan is apparently the best exponent of it, so watch out for more here. I think I’ll be searching on Gael-Linn records rather than Topic’s website for these though.

One new CD I did get hold is Fairport’s “Myths and Heroes,” which I collected at The Sage at this year’s Wintour gathering. What an enjoyable evening it was as ever; I was particularly pleased that we didn’t get a greatest hits how, as it showed the band remain creative and vital, with Chris Leslie’s hair getting longer every year. Admittedly, things started with “Sir Patrick Spens” and finished with a trio of “Farewell! Farewell!” “Matty Groves” and, of course, “Meet on the Ledge,” but there were 9 tracks from the new album and several cuts from “The Festival Bell.” This can only be a good thing. The new album isn’t, of course, “Liege and Lief” or “Unhalfbricking,” but there are some great numbers, particularly “John Condon,” which could be a successor to “Red and Gold” in terms of mood and structure, “Bring Me Back My Feathers” and “Weightless.”

It’s rather ironic that the first new release I get in 2015 is from a band who have been together nearly 50 years, though sometimes old bands rehashing old stuff works just as well. The night before they played the Sage, Fairport played Leeds Grand; I was in town that night, but at a very different gig. Back in 1985, I thought The Jesus and Mary Chain were the future of rock and roll; for a while they were, until they learned to play, bought proper instruments and became dull Velvets and Stooges copyists, but “Psychocandy” and the early singles, including “ Sidewalking,” were glorious. That said, I wouldn’t have been bothered about seeing them again, especially as they played Newcastle the same night as Fairport so that was out of the question, but Ben insisted. Who was I to deny the bairn a proper musical education? I got us tickets and headed down on a half term Tuesday. Typically he was full of flu and had to drag himself out of his sick bed, but the show had to go on.

I’m delighted I went; white noise feedback, white light strobes and the same three chords for the slow ones and the same 2 power chords for the fast ones. Jim Reid draped over the microphone, William Reid spherical (who says black is slimming?) and an audience of middle aged men in leather jackets. What can you say though? “Just Like Honey,” “Some Candy Talking,” “Never Understand” and “Upside Down” were amazing. Obviously playing the whole of “Psychocandy” in order reduced the surprises, but it allowed Ben to last as long as “You Trip Me Up” before illness forced our departure 2 songs early. A taxi home for him and I headed to The Skyrack, my bar of choice back in 87, with ringing ears and nobody to discuss the gig with. I thoroughly enjoyed it and would recommend you see them. However, if they’re doing “Automatic” or “Honey’s Dead” next year, I won’t be back.

As far as forthcoming releases, other than GY!BE, I’m looking forward to stuff by The Gang of Four, The Pop Group and Wire, not to mention British Sea Power’s “Sea of Brass” and Francis MacDonald, which will no doubt feature in my next music blog. All of which are encouraging signs that old bands are releasing new material, though I’m slightly disappointed not to have seen The Pop Group or Wave Pictures (I also missed out on getting a ticket for them on February 7^th at The Cumberland, when it sold out while I prevaricated) or even The Fall. You see, those three bands, as well as Mogwai on the Friday supported by Sleator Kinney, were announced as part of the Radio 6 Festival in Newcastle.  The first night’s tickets, 1,800 of them at the Academy, sold out before I’d even heard about the festival. As regards Saturday night, while The Fall were playing, I’ve seen them often enough not to be bothered about paying £35 to see them support  Hot Chip and Maximo Park, so I got myself ready for the Sunday; Wire and British Sea Power.

Despite mentions of Saturday’s tickets going quickly, I was amazed to see 3,400 Sunday tickets disappear in 30 seconds. Seriously; less than a minute for them all to go. What was worse is that they all ended up on Stubhub and Viagogo at massively inflated prices.  Frankly I was both furious and heartbroken, with a growing sense of disgust when the free Saturday day time tickets (The Pop Group and Wave Pictures), which were supposedly available by lottery, didn’t go to anyone I knew. Not one person I was acquainted with was successful. The BBC seriously needs to look at their policy of using licensed scalpers like See Tickets to distribute tickets. The only results I see are pissed off punters who have lost faith in the best radio station there is, not to mention the immaculate box office of The Sage being forced to suffer undeserved flak from those who missed out. That said, when I was ready to pretend the whole event wasn’t even taking place, a kind friend of a friend on Facebook offered me cost price for the Sunday and it was marvellous.

Heading to The Sage on a bone-chilling Sunday, with incessant sleet driving in from the west, I wasn’t in a great mood. However, once inside, everything ran like clockwork. Radio 6 ought to be commended for the superb organisation of the festival and picking a load of bands that wouldn’t sell out individually but came together effectively and made for a great night. That said, I was back indoors by 9.00 to see Laura snivelling at “Call the Midwife.” Actually, that’s a good idea for gig timings in future.

Entering The Sage around 5.15, I saw a few people I knew, passed on the beers and got a place 2 from the front in Hall 1 for British Sea Power. Bang on time, Steve Lamacq introduced them and, with no time to waste, they flew through a crowd pleasing half a dozen numbers, with “Waving Flags,” “The Great Skua” and “All In It” really bringing the house down, especially when Ursos Actos appeared, much to the consternation of neophytes in the crowd. Compared to the staid Sea of Brass show in October, this was brilliant and really brought home to me how much I love this band and everything they stand for. Simply superb entertainment.

From Hall 1, I shuffled along the balcony and down the stairs while King Creosote finished playing. There was plenty bars, beer sellers and food stalls, but I was only interested in seeing Wire. After King Creosote, the crowd moved on and I secured a place right at the front in time for one of the most important bands I’ve ever heard. They did not disappoint; “Doubles and Trebles” and “Joust and Jostle” were the stand out numbers in a furious, visceral aural assault. Never in their nigh on 40 year history have Wire contemplated compromise. This is still the case and, I’m delighted to say, many said they stole the show. They were the end of my show and I don’t regret paying £40 to see 2 bands or hear 12 songs. Did you really expect me to stay for Tim Burgess and The Charlatans?

As regards live music, while I’ve tickets for Lee “Scratch” Perry on April 10^th and Andy Irvine the week after, the one gig I’m now tempted by is Wire at Brudenell Social Club on Tuesday April 28^th; I’m determined to make it there and back in a night.

The Second Coming....

I'm off to Leeds this week, to see the Jesus & Mary Chain with Ben. They're playing Newcastle the night after, but I'm off to see Fairport Convention that night. Next week's blog will probably be a music one as I've not put one up yet in 2015. Anyway, last time I went down to visit Ben in Leeds, I went to see Doncaster Rovers 0 MK Dons 0; this is something I penned about it that is in the latest issue of Donny's great fanzine "Popular Stand" -:

The first time I was in Doncaster was Tuesday 18^th August 1992, when I made my only visit to Belle Vue to see Rovers lose 3-0 to Lincoln City in a League Cup first round, first leg tie. I believe my team Newcastle played a preseason friendly at Doncaster in either 92 or 93, but both times I was on holiday, so my only experience of a Rovers game was that one. In all honesty, I remember nothing about it, other than the ease of Lincoln’s win.

Fast forward to 24^th October 2014, I headed from Newcastle to Leeds, where my son is student, to take him to see the reformed, belligerently magnificent Pop Group at Brudenell Social Club, 35 years since I last saw them. Next morning, being of the opinion that any Saturday afternoon without football is a Saturday wasted, I decided to watch Doncaster Rovers at home to MK Dons. Leeds city centre was absolutely teeming with expectant fans. I felt pity for them as I eased aboard the almost deserted 13.05 to Kings Cross.  It would be fair to say I was one of the very few who got off that train at Doncaster to head for the game.

I took a bus up to the ground, which had a few MK Dons fans on it. Bearing in mind these blokes were, at the outside, mid 20s, the chances are the only team they’ve watched regularly in their life are the side still known as Franchise FC in some quarters. Frankly, to have such a dismissive attitude towards fellow fans strikes me as unnecessarily confrontational absolutism; these people simply want to watch their local team. That said, the witless droning of approximately 200 Buckinghamshironians through a predictable litany of “you’re not very good “and “shall we sing a song for you?” in flattened quasi estuary English tones was exceptionally grating.

We’ll not bother talking about the game shall we? The fact the found as much as 12 seconds of highlights on The Football League Show astonished me. However, in all seriousness, you’ve got a lovely ground; if I could design a new football ground, I think the Keepmoat would be the blueprint I’d base it on.  Great access in and out of the ground, good signposting, plenty of facilities (decent coffee I must say) and helpful stewards who guided me to the correct car park for the bus back to town. I’m disappointed not to have seen James Coppinger as I actually remembered his only appearance for NUFC (won 2-0 home to Spurs in August 2000); mind I’m also disappointed I didn’t see any goals. In conclusion, I had a great day and wish you and your club well for the future.