Month: Nov 2018

No online Dropbox with Sound Affects, aptly titled Everyday Escapism was manually dropped through my letterbox last week and I’ve listened to it daily since.

 

The musky aroma of a wood burner. It’s aimlessly staring through the window of a gypsy caravan on a drizzling spring morning music, clasping a warm cup of tea in a chipped mug. Could be your mind is slightly hazed from a blinding night down the boozer, as you ponder raindrops trickling down the pane. Maybe the lively Day Breakers played, brazenly blasting their celebrated covers; you were in the midst of it all, dancing, but now, well, it’s taken its toll. Who’d thought you’d still be listening to two members of the band, Iggy Gould and Catherine York, on this fragile morning after?

 
It’s a glass of red wine on an oak coffee table music; an evening with a newfound love, cuddling closely. For while you take caution choosing acoustic music for such a date, being there’s often a negative atmosphere about such tunes, and the last thing you want to project is the singer’s depressive besought about being dumped, or how terrible the world may seem to them. Allow me to suggest a CD from Sound Affects to suit the mood; Everyday Escapism.

No online Dropbox here, aptly titled Everyday Escapism was manually dropped through my letterbox last week and I’ve listened to it daily since; it’s trundling along in a milk-float music, in the wee hours of a cool November morning too, it seems.

 
Nick Drake could do this, no, not deliver milk, create positive acoustic sounds I mean, Cat Stevens and George Harrison in lighter temperaments too. And if neck hairs stand on end when Elbow throw those curtains wide, the sensation rises in Everyday Escapism, not in one gloriously memorable chorus, but as a consistent flow throughout the entire eleven original tunes.

Iggy brings Guitar and banjo to the show, Cath predominantly violin and viola, with flute and ukulele also, together breathing authenticity into these Irish folk influenced tunes of mellowness; soothing but not lax, nor mushy. The writing is above adequate, nothing here to riddle a fragile mind, yet sublime enough to inspire and move you. It’s clear Iggy and Cath have poured heart and soul into this, and it shows. It’s the duo’s second album, Retrospective arriving in 2017, and Everyday Escapism is this year’s offering. There’s links to download from iTunes on the site, hard copies can be obtained at their live performances.

 
Iggy and Cath show their flexibility here, while able to entertain an energetic crowd, here’s something personnel and reassuringly tranquil. A wonderful, ain’t-no-mountain-high-enough track, Million Miles kicks off the set, an ambient acoustic melody with the added emotion of Cath’s violin and occasion distant vocals blesses your ears and lets you know how the album is going to go down.

Yet there’s no single tune I could pick out as a favourite, as it flows so nicely, it doesn’t distract from the ethos, doesn’t attempt to cram diverse styles, chuck experimental effects or borrow a repetitive sample, yet it never bores, rather leaves you yearning for more. Even tunes which may seem bleak by their very title, like Say Goodbye or Nothing Left to Lose, have uplifting perspectives to them, and nothing here is going to dampen your spirits, and I like that in an acoustic album.

 
Of course, Nick Drake might’ve made a good milkman, who’s to say.

Adverts and That

Did you know Wiltshire boasts the UK’s only female Beatles tribute? Couldn’t let this be, so had a chat with manager Roger, so far failed to hold the ladies’ hands though!

 

Royal Wootton Bassett musician, Roger Mepstead promotes tribute acts. In the past we’ve mentioned Olya & The Bond Girls, and we love Sophia Bovell as Sugar Motown, also on the books are the Abbaholics, Dire Straits tribute The Sultans of Swing and a Carpenters one too. But I’m here to mention to The Beatelles, an all-female Beatles tribute act, because it certainly defines Roger’s ethos of creating tributes with a difference and here’s a quirky group of ladies having a whole lot of fun.

 
“They love every minute of it,” Roger confirmed, “strange thing is that they sing them all in the original key of each song.”

 
“Surely that’s not “strange;” that’s a good thing?!” I responded.

 
Roger chuckled, “I meant the Beatles sang rather high!”

The Facebook page for Beatelles boasts they’re the only female Beatles tribute in the UK; story checks out with some Google action, despite others elsewhere. “there’s one in Belgium and one in New York,” Roger clarified, though they hardly look old enough to have witness Beatlemania first hand. I wonder if the Beatelles did, but I’m too much of a gent to ask a lady’s age!

 
Jane, Carolyn, Trudie, Linda and Sara cover the Beatles catalogue over the era’s changes with sass, comical charm, but talented precision too. “Between two sets,” Roger explained, “we’ve split the songs between performance songs, first half, and studio songs second half. If you remember, they stopped performing because they couldn’t hear themselves play; screaming girls, etc.” Blinking cheek I reckon, sorry but I don’t remember, but my mum would; she was one of the screaming girls!

As our debate for the worth of the tribute act continues, I reckon adding twists (and shouts…sorry!) like this are idiosyncratic, and fun; I love, love them do! You can catch the girls at the Phoenix Bar in Wotton Bassett on the 30th November.

 

The Beatelles website

 

Adverts and That

Release a new EP called Live by Night, that’s what; and I’ve had an exclusive listen, so there!

 

Images by Nick Padmore and Matthew Hennessy

 

Upgraded from Dad’s cast-off mono record player, in the early eighties our Amstrad Hi-Fi was the stuff of Star Trek, with a record deck drawer openable by the press of a hoary button, when compact disc was an itch in its Daddy’s pants. Ten-out-ten for innovative design Amstrad, zero for effectiveness; unfortunately, by 1984 a notch developed in the runner, causing the needle to bounce off during the interminable process of retraction, triggering permanent damage to any vinyl that dared enter; still want my money back Alan Sugar, sir!

I recollect praying it wouldn’t occur to Howard Jones’ 12″ Album; loved that disc with its shiny red cover, ruler and a 12″ Howard Jones looking up. Yet, twas a silly name, being all albums measured twelve inches. I could’ve risked leaving the drawer open as the record spun, the danger being if someone ran into the room smashing into it; doomed if I did, likewise if I didn’t.

 
Unsure why this memory shoved its way to my anterior cortex while listening to Live by Night, the title track of Larkin’s new EP, which is ready for pre-order and to be released December. Only after listening to the first tune 1AM, still chatting online with singer Sam Bishop, I despatched my approval; 1AM is highly addictive, very catchy. Sam replied, Live by Night was his personal favourite, which I found interesting, to my ear it’s the most eighties influenced of this trio-track beauty.

On retrospect, Howard Jones may seem too commercial a comparison, yet, who knows, youth may find it necessary to Google this lost-in-time pop star. I guess, there’s a portion of new wave synth-pop stimulus, particularly in this one tune; picked apart though, there’s numerous influences I could cite. Teenage son sauntered into kitchen while listening, to drop off a collection of plates littering his room; he considered it was more “indie” than previous Larkin tracks. I see where that comes from, and agree, but don’t get me started again on indie; as Larkin is independently produced by Martin Spencer at Potterne’s Badger Set recording studio, therefore according to my antiquated usage of the term, it’ll always be indie.

In a past review of the debut album, Set You Free, I likened Sam & Finely to Simon & Garfunkel, which aside their drive for perfect harmony, I withdraw this comparison for Live by Night. Whatever influences I could allude, all are subtle, which I think why Howard Jones cropped up, he developed a certain style from synth-pop, commercial though it maybe it was instantly recognisable, and I believe Larkin do similar. Like a signature Set You Free was merely developing, Live by Night stamps a definitive unique and wholly original method to the future sound of Larkin, and it’s amazingly exclusive.

 
Amazing enough for me to steer away from associating this to other local-sourced music, as I did with the debut album, and more towards what the contemporary big boys of the music industry are producing. I accept, I may be past it, but my daughter teases my ears with her Now albums on car journeys, so fully aware what pops, and I categorically believe Larkin need a fat contract and to be racing up the national download chart with this.

 
From the three tunes then, Falling is one, which, released as a single, I reviewed in the summer. I said of it: “Sam’s droning vocals perfectly echo the adolescent despair, the surging heartache of the theme, over an atmospheric soundscape and sublime but subtle drumbeats.” I think this quote is suitable for the other tracks also, a running theme of youthful quixotic confusion of relationships; despair, heartbreak and misperceptions meddled into the acute song writing.

After an alarm sound, which might annoy if it wasn’t for the simple fact 1AM is a brilliant song and possibly my favourite of the three, lyrics echo through, “it’s one AM, it’s one AM, now what are we gonna do?” Contemplating a trivial argument which blossoms out of control in the wee hours sustaining apprehension, my middle-age mind might suggest, “go to bed, sleep on it; all seem better in the morning.” But this resonance worry, tribulation, returns me to a juvenile condition, a time when romantic uncertainty and anxiety preoccupy the conscience; hope ex-girlfriends aren’t reading this, sniggering “you twat!”

 
So, despite struggling to find an angle we’ve not previously covered for Larkin, I’ve managed to chew your ears off long enough about how fantastic this is, a natural and positive progression from their debut album, concentrated into three solid and marketable tunes that Sam and Finely should be very proud of. You can pre-order on iTunes (here), or wait until its release day for the CD, but take heed, this is not something you want to miss; feels like the making of something special.

Something special you can help the boys celebrate between Christmas and New Year, similarly as they did last year with the album launch, the EP launch will be the Devizes Conservative Club on Saturday 29th December. For just a fiver, Larkin will be backed by a seven-piece band, and it promises surprises such as support from the boy’s close friend and musician, Julien Biddulph. CD versions of the new EP will be on sale, but any ticket bought will include a free copy; yay, beats a cold turkey sandwich any day.

 
Reserve your tickets now, by select “going” on the Facebook event and comment how many tickets you need. Alternatively, email: larkinbanduk@gmail.com

 

Adverts and That

With Sheer Music returning to Devizes on 8th December at the Cellar Bar with Sam Russo and support by Jamie R Hawkins, I hassle creator Kieran J Moore for a quick chat about Sheer Music’s history.

 

A lone drunken straggler wandered into our ring of barely free-standing friends amidst the temporary city of tents which was a Glastonbury of yore. We welcomed him, he stayed chatting garbage for the remainder of the night until the point he passed his contempt for “ravers.” My friend Steve leaned into him and informed, “but mate, we are ravers.”

 
Oblivious to our attire, that which could’ve been described as “crusty raver,” the rave music playing on an old beatbox, and our constant consumption of “rave accessories,” he looked somewhat perplexed, “are you?!” We confirmed verbally, being visual aids escaped him and he nodded, bided us a good morning and got a shift on. This vague occurrence always tickles me, that, post Madchester and prior to the re-crossover bands, there was a youth culture clash between “rave” and “indie.”

 
Never violent like mods and rockers, just separate scenes where never the twain would meet; ravers too consumed in their own gathering to even recognise indie as a “thing.” Indie kids had a blossoming following with discontent to faceless electronic bleeps, which, looking back I can appreciate.

 
It’s a running joke I share with Kieran J Moore, the creator of Sheer Music, as I label his nights, “indie,” because, well, because I’m old, I guess, and I’m using the term in an archaic fashion, unsure if it’s obsolete. For what begun as a term for songs from independent record labels, transformed into a genre, a precursor to Britpop, in which the music industry were only to keen to commercialise, as they did with ever other youth culture. But, would Kieran describe his events as indie?

 
“Indie as independent,” he confirms, “but not just Oasis-style bands. We were never really that. Locally we were driven by the local support bands, and nationally, by what we were offered.” And long had it thrived at the Fold in the Lamb, now reaching beyond Devizes and into Trowbridge and Swindon, where Kieran has been concentrating his efforts recently.

 

Okay; let’s get my facts straight, I asked him if,  “Sheer started off at gigs in the Fold and how long ago that was.”

 
“Sheer started at the Devizes football club in 2004,” Kieran corrects me, “we hired the room, and paid a damage deposit, which we lost, after the then Chairman’s son broke the mirror in the gents. However, 300 people turned up, and I knew I was on to something.”

Can he remember who played? Of course, “The Septiks, Minion Race and Quarterblind. We then moved to The Cavalier, followed by Bell by The Green, where we did a majority of our shows in town. When Paul left The Bell, we moved to the Lamb, under previous owner, Ailsa. Then Sally came along and gave the venue a face-lift and I gave it a permanent PA.”

 
Thus, the Fold was born, “it was what the Lamb needed,” I note, my favourite watering-hole, “I recollect a few bands in the bar before that, but not often.” In between times, Kieran hosted Battle of the bands for Devizes Arts Festival, and joined their committee in 2006. But around that time, he began promoting further afield, at Moles and in Swindon, with the occasional foray in Salisbury.

 

Today Sheer Music and it’s self-titled community of local musicians, the GigFam,   promotes prolifically across the county; Swindon’s Victoria and Level III, Trowbridge’s Town Hall Arts and Village Pump, Komedia in Bath proving popular venues. “We’ve done nigh on 400 gigs in Wiltshire in 15 years,” Kieran proudly tells me.

“Biggest names” I inquire, “in a nutshell?!”

 
“Frank Turner, Vaccines and The Foals,” he replied.

So, is Sheer striding back into Devizes like a hungry cowboy runaway, I jest to him! “Well, I never went away… I just had my gigs cancelled. So wasn’t through a lack of trying.” Water under the bridge, it’s great to hear about the return of Sheer Music, “has been a while?”

 
“August, wasn’t it?” Kieran replied. I don’t know, what do I look like, a what’s-on website?! Nevertheless, for a fiver it’s a Christmas warm-up party, set for The Cellar Bar on Saturday December the 8th, when renowned Haverhill singer-songwriter and novelist, Sam Russo appears with an acoustic set.

 
“Sam Russo will be known to many Frank Turner fans, from his support slots over the years,” Kieran explains, “or his critically acclaimed album Storm, released on Specialist Subject Records. Sheer teamer, Dan Buckingham put me on to him awhile back, with the awesome song, Crayfish Tails and I was hooked.”

Support for the show comes from Devizes hero, Jamie R Hawkins; nuff said.

 

http://www.sheermusic.co.uk/
Facebook Event Info.

Adverts and That

Gil Scott-Heron chanted “the revolution will not be televised,” bloody right too, it’ll all be on Facebook no doubt. Videos captioned “what the BBC aren’t showing us,” go viral, even if it’s a link to a BBC video. I should stick to posting my all-time favourite album covers and annoying others by nominating them to do likewise. C’mon it’ll be fun, oh yeah, and China are committing mass genocide BTW, or is that just Western propaganda? No one knows for sure, The Beano being the only trustworthy journal. Still, I like “Dare” by the Human League, how about you? Yesh, u too? First world problem vacuumed.

 
If you get a friend request from me, don’t accept; no scam, I’m just unfriendly, apparently. Selfish, some say; just doing my job, lady. It’s a sign of the times.

 
Is there an app to tell us we live in a false economy of unachievable dreams and aspirations? Or should it be just common bleeding sense? They never even put a warning label on the country, something to consider at least? Warning: Ticking Timebomb, do not touch.

 
While our leaders guide us down this ever-decreasing circle of doom, we seem to either accept it blindly like it was a Facebook friend request from a Natalie Portman look-alike after no strings fun, as we joyfully click on her outside link, or else we shake our snowflake heads and share an opposing thread; look at the glorious JC’S charity shop sandals; sure someone will assume he’s being antipatriotic wearing those, while okaying Theresa, as she shows off the diamonds on the souls of her shoes, got a poppy on though. To organise a protest is to promote it on Facebook anyway, hmm; click “interested” to show you’re against the regime, but to start painting a placard is a step too far.

 
Soz, didn’t respond to your revolt event Watt Tyler, I dunno why, but my phone was on airplane mode; the chance of me being able to afford the petrol to make it to a fucking airport is slim, let alone go anywhere on one. Universal Credit, what’s universal about it other than we all go hungry?

 
We’ve succumbed if we wanted to or not, sterling crashing on the stock market and prices for basics going through the roof doesn’t seem to put people off the idea of barricading ourselves in, provided we get our country back so Tommy Robinson and his mates can spurt racist bullshit without fear of persecution, so we can take our borders back, and other bookshops too, and we will build Auschwitz on England’s green and pleasant land. Oh, quit nit-picking, you silly re-moaner; don’t you care about Britain? No, course not, that’s why we moan, dipshit.

 

 

Brexit had a point worthy of discussing in my opinion, but caging ourselves in with ferocious, selfish beasts wasn’t part of it, do I look like Steve Irwin? The NHS will be a fleeting illusion by the time they’ve savaged us and we need more than a plaster. Young conservatives got pissed at your expense last month and scrawled their intentions for our health service on their shirts, and we ignored it, else think oh, that’s disgraceful, but only get as far as sharing on our fucking Facebook page; come the revolution and I might add it to Instagram too, amidst pouting teenage girl selfies with nothing better to do, cos there is nothing better to do.

 

 

No point hiding the fact May was laughing in our reedy, sore faces; she’s fucking dancing the dancing queen; young and sweet, I ask you? That’s wasn’t a dance, it was a gloat; one step away from opening the palm of her hand revealing grain for us to squabble over the spoils, while she jangles her jewellery like Jimmy Saville entering Broadmoor; he was a Tory, wasn’t he? She’s no Beyoncé, it’s going to bite her in her shakin’ booty very soon, her screw-loose cabinet looking more like MFI than Harrods, may as well stuff our opinions on Brexit, throw away this divide and rule trap, unite and get these bastards off their seats.

 
How far can the pompous English be pushed? If this was another country, another era, there’d be a civil uprising.

 
Every move she attempts to bust I shudder another foreign nurse or doctor is packing up and heading for the Chunnel; can you blame them? The only Doctor left will be our liberal incarnation of Dr Who, and come March 2019 and she’ll probably be cited as an ex-Russian spy who mysteriously kicked the bucket from a bottle of Odour le Novichok. BBC act all leftie for entertainment but it’s an Orwellian future with Newsnight; England will prevail.

 
Got to get a Russian nerve agent in your town just to be able to park for free.
Ha, and if you thought I’d stopped the No Surprises column, there’s a surprise for you; it’s been stuck at the traffic lights in Tory heaven. Maybe this column has nicotine in it, I’m trying to give it up, but on a bad day, just gotta write a whinge for you to laugh at; go on, giggle at my anger, sadists. Chuckle at my anguish, titter at my troubles, nobody gives a toss anymore; back to square one. I’ll be honest, it’s the closure of this column, as it’s supposed to be satire and nothing is fucking funny anymore.

 
Life is getting so hard even stinging nettles deliberately grow where there’s no doc leaves.

 
We don’t need another rant, another sarcastic bastard. We made more of a fuss because roadworks made us ten minutes late then we did when Wiltshire Council threatened to close our education facilities. I observed the posts, shouting, swearing and blaming Amanda Attwood, as if she’s the high priest of all matters Devizes infrastructure. She kicked you off, nobody’s fault but yours, toys too pricey to throw out of prams these days.
So, you take to the multitude of other local Facebook groups to shout and curse her name, as if your world has crumbled around you. As if you’ve some God given right to hurl abuse at people in the group she created, as if as creator of a group of over 1000 she has now ceased all prerogatives over it. Else you start a new local group, call it “the issues with the issues with the issues of the Devizes Issue;” you could do that waiting in the traffic.

 
Ah yes, you can see it now, unfolding before you, billions will request to join a place where you can type “big jobs,” and not be punished. Though they don’t join, cos they’ve joined thirty similar others already, and the group fades into obscurity unless you can find the next viral meme of Boris Johnson popping a letter into the eyelet of a burka before Teeder does.

 
Whitehead smirks; “Attwood takes the shit for me ha-ha.” It’s the new blame culture trickling down from Whitehall to Devizes Tory Hub.

 
Some donkey actually commented on one of the killion posts about road works in Devizes that Claire Perry should step in; They. Actually. Said. That. She doesn’t care if her actions cause earthquakes, you think she gives a sausage sandwich if you are half hour late for work?

Thing is, I reckon we enjoy other’s pain and tribulations, makes us feel better about ourselves. We long for our therapist to stop beating about the bush when we unload our deepest psychological worries, we yearn for them to reply, “no, sorry, nothing I can do for you pal, you’re fucking mental.” My mum pays for someone to tell her off if she eats too much, yeah, “fat club” she calls it, Slimming World to you and me. “Can’t eat that cake,” she gives it, “they’ll tell me off.” She pays for that shit. I laugh at her misfortune, under my breath. Then I help her out, as any good son would; I take the cake, ha-ha.

 
I’m so evil now too, the wind of change drifting me with it; Brexit/remain do what the fuck you like, you will anyway; that’s democracy not powerful media persuasion, subtly painted on the side of a big red bus. I just lounge and watch Spongebob Squarescrotum, trying not to contemplate our fate. Couldn’t care less anymore, I’m numb, about anything. Used to put milk in after brewing my tea, now I just chuck it in before the hot water. You can quote me on Facebook saying how I like my tea, the rest, I’ll sue your ass.

 
Meanwhile another overpriced pub shuts, the social hub now virtual; “Joe Blogs likes this;” he doesn’t have to put his hand in his pocket for the next round. Teenagers ask “okay Siri, what is meant by the term ‘round’ in a social environment?”

 
Nobody got the spare cash for a plastic lollipop, let alone a round of drinks. You’ve uncultured yourself, well done you, abandoned uniqueness, succumbed to Spoons and now you can drink twelve pints for the cost of ten in pub with character; ten pints hardly touches the sides, is there a Europe tribute down the bin? Yeah, the Final Countdown, da-da-da-da-da.

 
Oh, the irony, we’re heading somewhere but it ain’t Venus, it’s a penis, with the face of Jacob Reese-Mog, the Andrew Ridgley of xenophobic politicians, with a protective army of brainwashed twats who thought Romper Stomper was about a soft play centre. The Willy of the people, heart on your sleeve? He’s one big wizard’s sleeve.

And while we’re on sleeves, why not get a tattoo? The whole fucking sleeve and try not to think how others are sleeping rough. Daddy will buy you that Fiat Punto, you’ve got to stick a shitley rendered eyeball motif on your bicep. Flex it whenever you see a foreigner applying for a job you wouldn’t stand to do anyway. Bloody homeless camping in a graveyard, do they know no shame? Might have done prior to clearing them out of the woods so we can all hang dog poo bags from trees there.

 
And breathe, thank the heavens for small mercies, that that brazen wanker has written his final shite No Surprises column, cos it’s not funny anymore, any subject he could cover is so damn dark and disturbing it satirises itself; The president of America, look at him. I rest my case.

 

Shamelessly stealing an idea from posh-rural-girls-with-nothing-better-to-spend-their-corporate-MD-husband’s-salary-on website, Shitty Stilettoes, or whatchamacallit, has to be the lowest of lows for Devizine.

No, put those pecans down, we’re not going into the overpriced cupcake business, but hey, they have awards, awards people, awards! What a fun idea it’d be to have awards too; of the understanding we have no shame at Devizine Towers and it’s something we pride ourselves on.

So, allow me to present the nominating period of the Devizine Awards 2018, whereby winners receive absolutely bugger all other than the fame, (soz, typo; I meant shame) prestige (soz again; pretzel) and perhaps a sheet of sneezed on toilet tissue, should I manage to muster some up; give me a minute…. Achooooo!

There you go. Now who wouldn’t want to win one of these splendid trophies which exists purely as an image online, in only 72 dpi?

Categories then, that’s what I need. How about best place to barf up kebab on a Friday night? Most idyllic location to jettison your unnecessary McDonald’s waste packaging from the window of your dropped down Fiat Punto? Admit it, you’ve got the t-shirt on this one.

Best place to lose your shit? Being a good lad, I don’t even know what losing one’s shit actually means, but lots of cool kids say it. Best place to get stuck in traffic so you’ve an excuse for being late for work? This one speaks for itself.

Oo, now, this’ll be fun; most annoying Wiltshire Councillor? I’m not talking about the councillor who simply has the most condescending laugh, or likes to use business jargon such as “moving forward then,” to mean “I know I’m guilty but I really think we should change the subject,” I mean the most stuck-up, obnoxious arsehole who couldn’t give a finger of fudge about the issues in debate, like closing education facilities, introducing extortionate parking charges or the general dilapidation of our roads.

Biggest waste of space in Wiltshire; open to interpretation this one, could be a heritage site, a recreational area, or perhaps your flatmate Kevin who still hasn’t picked up his plate off the carpet from last night and now it’s crawling with ants.

There’s so many we could do, the gym with the stinkiest trainers? Biggest parking Muppet; not looking for the occasional Gonzo parked on a bus lane to get chips, but the real Big Bird of parking Muppetery. We need photos people, photos I say. Worst local website for news and what’s on…. hold on, no scrub that one, in fact, yeah, bad idea all round really.

Tell you what, let’s do this thang, now I’m running low on gags, and do it properly, with some standardised categories but applied to the local scene. You should know our area by now, from Swindon, Marlborough to Bath, incorporating Chips and Ham, Trow-Vegas, the Sham, and naturally, Divided. l throw open the voting process, seriously, please cast ONE vote per category.

Please add your own answer, if they’re not here; it’s Sunday, my brain smells of wee, and I’ve doubtlessly missed loads. Oh and deadline is next Sunday 25th November, so get voting!

Okay, done deciding? Let’s round this up next Sunday, or whenever I get round to it! Talk to you then, when I’ll announce the winners and runners-up in an online black tie-dye ceremony! Hey, now that’s a good idea, a Facebook ceremony; what’d you think?

 

Adverts and That

Yeah so, I’ve blown my own horn, reviewed my own night, but it doesn’t happen every day! And what of the big man, Mike Barham, I hear you cry; could’ve asked him to play. I did, alright, and he’d loved to have come down and blasted his splendid noise, but that Deborah of the Southgate nabbed him first; typical.

As if the Southgate ain’t putting on some blinding music every Saturday night, often Fridays too, and even on a Wednesday night when they all sit around “acoustic jamming,” they call it, getting bladdered I calls it, on a Wednesday, do they have no shame? Honestly, they’ve a gig list booked into next year which reads like a local musician hall of fame, and Mike would’ve struggled to get his gert big size twenty in the door again for a while.

So, no hard feelings I say, I don’t do hard feelings, especially when the secret headliner announced was to be Nerve Endings. Yeah, I know right, who them then? I’ll tell you who shall I, only Mike Barham and buddies, that’s who; Mike Barham supports Mike Barham, what a nerve. I popped over a question to him; “oi Barham, what’s what then, with them then?”

“Hey buddy,” he gives it, “Mike here! Yeah totally new venture, new tracks, so would love to have a chat about it.” They’ve got Melksham’s Rob McKelvey on bass and vocal, and the awesome drummer Luke Bartels who, if you recall, we’ve mentioned on the exceptionally loud and proud Cellar Bar gig by his Welsh band Holoson in June. Now in my book that sounds like a dream team, and feedback has been very positive; here’s a Facebook video link to show off, and it sounds as we’d expect, flipping awesome.

 
Are they to gig again before Santa does his rounds, they’ve surely made his good list? I’m officially sworn to secrecy at the moment, a few days should tell but word on the grapevine is that their debut gig at the Southgate might not be the first and only show of 2018. Thank cripes for that, thought I’d missed out just because I was at some fancy-pansy online magazine’s birthday bash.

Yep, funny cos it’s true; Devizine wishes Mike, Luke and Rob all the best with this new project.

https://www.facebook.com/Nerve-Endings-295159981332912/

Adverts and That

Devizes Lions: BBC CHILDREN IN NEED STREET COLLECTION

The Devizes Lions, no, not the lions who escaped the circus to invade the School canteen in 1980 or whenever, (showing your age now,) but the Lions Club, who organise and participate in many brilliant community activities, and with the support of the local community have raised many thousands of pounds to help support local people and various charities, yes, those Lions!

Now, where was I? Oh yes, The Devizes Lions will be out in the Brittox with their buckets and dressed as clowns on Thursday 15th November to encourage people to donate to the BBC Children in Need appeal. Please show them your support!

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Photos by Matthew Hennessy @ Hennessyimages

And Nick Padmore  @ NickPadmore Photography

 

Mark Hamill couldn’t identify with the change in Luke Skywalker that the writers of The Last Jedi made. I diverge; alone in isolation Luke’s character would’ve altered. Although I’m no Jedi Master, and don’t habitually drink green alien milk, not directly from the teat anyways, visions of me scrambling in dirt, spitting, “this is not going to go the way you planned,” did come to my paranoid mind Saturday afternoon.

Nevertheless, I stepped up to the stage at the Cons Club in Devizes to kick proceedings off. Tad nervous, behind a mic not my comfort zone, but from the first note of Lottie J’s keys, and as her sublime voice rang through the hall, I was more like Hannibal of the A-Team, rubbing his hands; I love it when a plan comes together. At just 15 Lottie J has the matured soulful voice of a professional singer twice her age, with a talent for song writing to boot. It was around about a year ago I saw her play at Times Square in Devizes, and it made one of our early articles on Devizine. She wowed then, she’s improved tenfold.

 

That’s the key to all which went down at the Cons Club last night, our humble birthday bash, for all the acts which played have been featured, least mentioned fondly here, at the very beginnings. It was this which I think made the night special, personally, but for others, and to my surprise, it was the collaborations and team work which banded this event in glory. Not that I should write a review for my own event really, bit cheeky, just consider this a method of letting you know how it went, my thoughts on the night, and an opportunity for highlighting the amazing line-up for those who couldn’t attend, and of course, thanking them.

Because I’m truly grateful and totally overwhelmed by everyone who played Saturday night, I’m honoured that they gathered, performed amazingly, and stayed to support the cause, join in other’s sets, and generally get pissed with me! Take drunkenness as red, the surprise collaborations took my breath away, Lottie arranging to sing “Day Dream Believer,” with the following act, Sam Bishop and Finely Trusler, aka; Larkin. Despite the duo never meeting Lottie before, it was touching and functioned. But it was the method which would continue, as Jamie R Hawkins took to the stage early to add some Cajon drum to their set, which would’ve been amazing without it. Such then was the ethos of the evening, musicians, yeah, I know, you can see free on the local pub circuit, but amalgamated to complement each other’s acts is a rarity they enjoy as much as we enjoy to see, thus creating a real “scene.”

Our brilliant poet, Gail Foster, read a couple of sonnets while Phil Cooper and Jamie set up. I’d imagined Gail having more time in the spotlight, her verses worked through chatter and gave us the desired belly-laughs, but with McLaren F1 styled changeover times, Jamie was blasting with passion my favourite original, “As Big a Man as Me,” with Phil now on Cajon. Sharing the set with Phil, solo, then duetting, and then jumping on the Cajon while Phil shook it up, with stylishness, and shakers.

There was a feeling in the air it couldn’t get any better, but surprise number two arrived when Cath and Gouldy requested to play a few numbers as their original songs’ duo, Sound Affects. We were treated to an unscheduled set; how could I refuse? They hooked up here at while I was home selecting my least smeggy shirt, at five, to supply the PA, despite not planned to play as the Day Breakers until the finale, but also worked tirelessly with the other acts, their respective mountain of equipment, and my complete idiocy when it came to anything technical; I’m glad I didn’t refuse. I owe them so many thanks it’s hard to calculate, Gouldy even dropping my drunken ass off home on his way out of the Vizes.

If we were as tight as Roy Chubby Brown in skinny jeans for time, sliding in an additional act was a done deal, Tamsin not feeling so good agreed to cut her stint short. But our Tammy was up next, showing no signs of ailment when it came to performing, she did what she always does; it was absolutely terrific, as ever, and I wish her well.

Before I knew what was what, I insisted Gail read another couple of verses, the latter poignant remembrance themed which stunned the audience to silence. If you could momentarily hear a pin drop, imagine what happened when the incredible George Wilding did his thing? “It’s on the setlist,” he pointed his finger at his scraggily scrap of paper when I recounted his cover of “Be my Baby” at Bromfest in the summer. I insisted they play what they will, unlike some pub gigs, their original songs were encouraged at my show, but when George does a cover, he makes it his own with a natural flare he keeps on his hip.

 

The night went from strength to strength, George’s set closing with a gorgeous slow number duet with Bryony Cox, one surprise I was aware of. I’m so sorry to the pair, pressed for time and shown so much dedication and patience, the Day Breakers edged on their chairs.

I leaned into violinist Catherine York, whispered “I want you to blow the roof off,” and like greyhounds out the starting trap, they sprung on stage to do just that; dancers flooded the floor amidst a bombardment of hugs and celebrations from all.

I’m still at ten thousand feet at just how great our acts were, but also the contributions behind the scenes from so many, I hereby attempt to mention now. For if Devizine is rather like Luke Skywalker, lonely, just me sat at a computer typing this crap, this night was Rey arriving on the island, ding-dong, lightsabre in hand, it made everything I do, and my contributors do too, a solid, a reality, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

I’d like to thank Dean Czerwionka of Dead Kool Country Promotions for organising this shebang, Cath and Gouldy for not only the use of the PA and sound arrangements throughout the night, but for playing as Sound Affects and to the remaining Day Breakers.

I’d like to thank Tamsin Quin, her family, but in particular, Erin for collecting extra money in a bucket; you were brill! To Lottie J, and Dad Russell, I’d like to thank for kicking off our show, Sam and Finely of Larkin, Phil Cooper, Jamie R Hawkins, George Wilding and Bryony Cox, for making the night with awesome sets. To Gail Foster for her poetry interludes, thank you. To Matthew Hennessy and Nick Padmore for photography seen here. To Joy Padmore, truly a joy to have on the door. To Carol and all the staff of The Conservative Club; thanks for having us!

 

To Beverley and The Harcourt Hammies for the cake, my patient and understanding wife Sharon for taking the entire day making a great buffet. To Sue Davis of BBC Wiltshire, the Devizes CUDS, to everyone who came along, and to Resul of the Turkish Barbers in Snuff Street who gave me an emergency trim!

Feedback has been awesome, seems everyone enjoyed the show. I’ve seen some comments proclaiming how much talent we have here in Devizes on account of the great acts who came to play. I’d like to point out, they were hand-selected for their excellence and surely are a shining representation of the musical talent we have in this area, but are by no means the be-all-and-end-all of the scene I’ve discovered through Devizine, this ongoing exploration of all things local and lively.

I raised a glass to the ones we let down, couldn’t squeeze in, ones pre-booked elsewhere, to the upcoming names, and the greats, to all the brilliant venues and event organisations we have here from the Scooter Club, Long St Blues, to the Owl, from the Southgate and Crown to the Cellar Bar, from the Saddleback to the Wharf, and from the Arts Festival to DOCA, and more, Devizes really is a little haven for quality entertainment, and while I appreciate Ian Diddam’s hashtag #nothingeverhappensindevizes is nothing more than unsubtle irony, Devizine continues to highlight the nonsense in anyone who dare take it seriously.

So, we strive on, with no real desire to coordinate events, still Saturday was a lesson learned, and I now feel the pain of the event organisers I chat with, but still feeling I’d like to do it all again nonetheless. Still at ten thousand feet and a tad scraggly around the edges from this amazing birthday bash, I can tell you we raised on the door, approximately £366 for Cancer Research, but we still have to add online ticket sales so a grand total will be with us shortly.

 

Thank you all, I blinking love you x

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Mirko posted about his forthcoming gig at the Sport Club on Facebook, other dates at Coulsdon and Conford have sold out, and commented “I’d really like to get a sold out in Devizes too!” Thing is, if you’d all been listening to the album I’ve been listening to for the past fortnight, it would sell out in five minutes. If local hero Jon Amor’s infectious influence on a vibrant blues scene for our market town is anything to go by, Elles Bailey will astound.

 
Remember when “soft metal” was all the rage, and you heard the intro to Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive? There was something ye olde Americana about it, something authentic; you could hear the wind whistling through a tumbleweed, but as the song progressed it tended to lose its way. Something about the intro to Wildfire reminded me of it, yet that authenticity never, for a second, wanes here, and Elles Bailey is actually, from Bristol.

In the nineties Bristol contributed to the electronic scene with a particularly unique blues element, I mention Massive Attack and Portishead to Elles, but she doesn’t cite an influence from them. “I didn’t listen at all as I was growing up,” she informs, but I suspected as much, “I love Bonnie Raitt, Joe Cocker and The Band though!”

 
“Ha-ha,” I jest, “not about to do a “Cher” corny dance number then? To which I rightfully receive no reply! For “Wildfire” is gorgeously mature, if I sum it up as; it blends blues and country, people might respond, “yeah right; that’s been done 60 years ago, it’s called rock n roll!” I’d favour it bridges a gap between the two; weaving blues roots, electric blues and country, with contemporary superiority and originality, but authenticity too, rather than simply, a “blend.” Generally, though, it’s blues, other times it nods to country, but only teeters on the edge of rock n roll. I asked Elles if this was fair portrayal, she replied, “Yeah I’d say that’s a pretty good comparison! I like to dance on the edge of blues, roots, soul and country – add a smidge of rock and that’s what gives you Elles Bailey.”

 
Still, there’s a wonderful smoky style to Elles voice, Bonnie Tyler too easy-a-comparison, because when its country, the acute composition and ingenious writing style is akin to Dolly, while her blues components are as blistering as the idols it pays tribute to; Howlin’ Wolf in particular.

It’s often questioned how a singer obtains their raspy or smoky vocals, and if its dangerous on the vocal chords. Some joke they record as soon as they wake up, others suggest smoking a packet of Camel cigarettes, but Elles’ website reveals a story behind hers of being in hospital as a kid. The blues then took Elles at an early age, and it shows, for this is truly polished and earnest music. This is one fiery blues chick with edge, but with sublime professionalism.

 
This is no quick sample of her music, I count eighteen tracks on the deluxe edition of her debut album Wildfire (Sept 1st 2017) she snapped over to me, which after a listen you feel emotionally exhausted but beholden, like you’ve just returned from a trip to Texas. Like a classic Springsteen album, subsequently you feel like you know the boss personally, as if he’s poured every last detail of his life, his transitory thoughts and sincere sentiment into it.

 
Wildfire received rave reviews, achieved no.2 in the iTunes blues Charts. Subject matter is often the rises and pitfalls of romance, or related, although not cliché, the standard template of cowboy references, boxcars and highway shoot-outs are rare, but Elles regularly travels to Nashville, the album tracked in Blackbird studios Tennessee. Produced by Brad Nowell, ‘Wildfire’ assembled a host of Nashville’s finest, including Grammy Award winning guitarist Brent Mason and three-time ‘Musician Hall of Famer’ Bobby Wood. Blended together back in the UK with the likes of Jonny Henderson (Robyn Ford, Matt Schofield) on Hammond organ and Joe Wilkins on blistering guitar, the result is a unique trans-Atlantic coming together of styles.

 
There’re no standalone tracks here; all are breath-taking and powerful, even acoustic ones. “Same Flame” packs said punch, and is particularly catchy, downtempo “Leiper’s Fork” is staunchly inspiring as Tammy Wynette, and “Time’s a Healer” drifts like Pink Floyd. I hear The Doors, Taylor Swift, but predominantly I hear that dependable old blues of Muddy Waters and the aforementioned Howlin’ Wolf, who’s self-titled tribute song Elles knocks out of the park. I tell her a story I’d once read about him in a recording studio in London, when he gave a quick word to a bunch of young hopefuls recording in the next studio. After said advice the group came out with the style which defined them, and thus the Rolling Stones ensued. Elles loved the story, how we’d both loved to have been a fly on that wall!

So, Elles is to present a stripped-down version of the songs on offer with Wildfire, “and some new songs and old songs, so a kinda different show,” she explains, on a hefty “Stripped back trio” tour she’s appearing at The Devizes Sports Club on Friday November 30th – you’d be a hound dog to miss out on this one.

 

Tickets available now at Devizes Books, Avon Trophies, Devizes Sports Club or of course, MPL Guitars UK. You can reserve your tickets via txt to be picked up on the door on 07760482453.

Facebook Event Page Here 

Elles Bailey Website

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Once again the club was absolutely packed out with punters come to see some of the best entertainment on offer in D-Town. It’s so good to see the club back on a roll.

Tonight’s support act was Thompson Smurthwaite – what a great name! – who had absolutely no trouble whatever in capturing the audience’s attention. Looking a little like Seasick Steve to the casual observer, the guy rolled out some wonderful harmonica blues. On his Facebook page he writes “I was found by the blues in my teens, sang them in my 20’s, met them in my 30’s, wrote them ever since. Harmonica was my first instrument and still in love” and this perfectly sums the guy up. Fully deserved the roaring applause.

Then onto the main act, which was served up in two separate large portions. The first helping had the protagonists – Devizes own supreme axeman Innes Sibun and Detroit-born Marcus Malone and the other musicians – all seated at the front of the stage, playing some beautiful laid-back stuff, thoughtful, melodic but definitely bluesy. This was music to draw you right in and make you feel good.

After the break the second helping was probably more what people might have been expecting, with a full-rip set of high-energy, explosive numbers. It was loud and proud, and the crowd lapped it up. This was a blues/ rock collaboration working in top gear.

So – yet another great night at Long Street Blues Club. Next up on 17th November is Lightning Willie and His All-Star US Band – another cracker by the looks of it!

 

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