Tag: concrete prairie

Concrete Prairie at The Southgate

Without cloning technology it was another Saturday night dilemma still as easily solved; Concrete Prairie were at The Gate, arm twisted….

From The Barge to the Pump we were spoiled for live music choices; any decision made I could predict would’ve paid off. But after fondly reviewing Swindon’s dark roots Americana five-piece, Concrete Prairie’s self-titled debut album last September, I hot-footed it to Swindon Shuffle to see them, and from Calne to Bradford-on-Avon I’ve been stalking them like a red-cheeked groupie with hearts for pupils, hoping my hometown will get a taste of why, soonishly.

It only seemed fitting then, being I’ve nagged landlady Deborah to get them in, now they finally play our trusty Devizes answer to the 02 arena, I show my ugly mug and assist in draining the scrumpy barrels.

It was, as ever down the Southgate, a blinding night. Celebrating their fifth year at the helm and over 350 gigs, Deb and Dave show no sign of converting it to a Christian science reading room yet. It’s lively and bustling, despite a majority of town’s live music aficionados at Long Street, but importantly, it’s always welcoming.

Sadly the Gate supplied a PA unsuitable for a five-piece, ergo the engineering didn’t do Concrete Prairie’s divine sound justice, by comparison to the acoustics of the specifically designed Wiltshire Music Centre, where I saw them last.

But as pundits of their craft, they overcame and delivered us their superb set of stunning originals, with outstanding covers of The Coral, and the particularly adroit Glen Campbell’s Wichita Lineman.

I never tire of hearing this set. Concrete Prairie operates as a unit, their passion shows in this tight unification and spills out to any audience, the result is irresistible entertainment of the highest calibre. Dark country Americana doesn’t necessarily have to be your thing, you’ll come away in awe.

And as is their tradition, they leave their magnum opus for the encore. The mood-switching, tempo-layered The Devil Delt the Deck is the perfect finale, saccharine yet melancholic. Its building powerhouse of emotions acts as the template to drive you back to see this band at every available opportunity.

Catch them locally on 16th April at the Electric Bar at Bath’s Komedia, and again with Mad Dog McRea on 7th May, at Cherhill Bank Holiday Celebration in Calne on 5th May, The Live Music Festival in Bradford-on-Avon 3rd June, and their Food & Drink Festival on the 11th. On the 17th, they headline Chippenham Pride and are at Box’s Schtumm on 25th June.

The Southgate humbly work with what they have, squeezing the kind of band into the bijou you’d happily pay a ticket stub for, and whatever technical stage engineering they lack they make up with devotion, and create an undeniably happy place, essentially our favourite pub in Wiltshire.

Personally, my favourite band currently on the circuit, in my favourite watering hole, was a chicken dinner, so while there was plenty on the menu, trips to Marlborough’s Lamb for Pants, Deadlight Dance at The Barge, Plan of Action at the Three Crowns, Long Street and a Devizes Scooter Club night, I had to make a choice, but it wasn’t pin in a map, if you’ve seen Concrete Prairie you’ll understand; I scoffed the lot, with only vague memories of returning home! 

Concrete Prairie Grace the Calne Music & Arts Festival Finale

So, it was a most memorable evening in Calne last night, and that’s everyone from Devizes leaving the site with insular mumblings of ‘ah, you dunt wanna go down thar, probably get licked in a drive-by shooting!’ Now, I’m not one to get fanatical, but if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, I’ll risk it for the biscuit that is the finale of Calne Music & Arts Festival, because my new favourite thing, Concrete Prairie rang out the rafters with their exemplary blend of Americana.

Witnessing nothing of the preconceptions of smalltown rivalry, Marden House is an architecturally idyllic hall of gardened central location, with grand acoustics to boot. Beneath a plethora of submitted paintings which make up the gallery viewable throughout the fortnight of this long-founded festival, including one particularly striking image from our good friend Clifton Powell, Concrete Prairie played through their exquisite debut album, gave us a taste of what’s to come, and sprinkled it with a few apt covers. In such, they confirmed, short of me pressing my ugly mug on their limo windscreen as they leave a stadium, screeching “I love you, Concrete Prairie,” I’ve, in a relatively short time period, become somewhat obsessive about the wonderful local five-piece; and Americana of this country-inspired landscape isn’t usually my preferred cuppa!

Not wanting to scare them too much, I don’t do fanboy stalker, not with my eclectic tenet of promoting the entire local live music scene and the overabundance of talent here. Like my kids, I never announce my favoured drowning in car scenario preferences, but Concrete Prairie, I’d absolutely jump back in. And it was a more complete concert, rather than the half-hour gig at the sardine tin Beehive during the Swindon Shuffle. Though I mutually agreed with frontman Joe Faulkner, that was a blinding gig, bursting with atmosphere, you wouldn’t want to display your prize paintings on the walls there for the duration! Despite this more concert-based event may’ve been principled and lesser-so unruly, they met with an encore and rousing applause.

It also gave the chance for the band to really push the album tracks, express their thoughts behind the songs and give a more comprehensive show. None of this prior to student friend of Joe’s, M Butterfly, a Brighton-based soloist as support, providing some lush acoustic self-penned songs.

Kicking off with an instrumental guitar and fiddle combo, the drums rolled in for the opening track of their album, Pick up Pieces, after which Joe ate humble pie for the usage of the word “shit,” and livened the mood with the upbeat People Forget, which they did, or least forgave. If the audience were informed the opening song was about fatherhood, the second was more coming of age. Then two covers excellently unfolded, Loudon Wainwright’s Swimming Song, and The Waterboys’ finest hour, Fisherman’s Blues.

The mental health wellbeing themed Bury My Blues followed, and Hard Times took us nicely to an interval. What I didn’t catch at the Beehive was the diversity of Concrete Prairie, all members save drummer Tom Hartley and violinist Georgia Browne, swapping roles and instruments, all taking vocals, particularly the edgier Cash style of Adam Greeves, and accompanying, yet ever as tight and accomplished as they dared. Chatting to them later it was revealed to be too cramped conditions to do such at the Beehive. Here we could really get a better taste of the band, and they exploited this to the full, showing true professionalism in their stage presence and banter.

So, Wine on my Mind bought us back to the stage, with a new song Bound for Heaven, of equal and interesting composition, a solid taster for the sequel album. Joe then revealed a narrative of equality behind I Wish you Well, explaining the Annabel character mentioned was a personification of respect for anyone “different” from them. I mention this to detail the depth of concept in the band’s riddled writing, perhaps part of a job description for country artists, but they do this with the strength of the classics. Talking of which, a pleasing cover of Glen Campbell’s Wichita Lineman followed; sweet as.

Apologies for losing track at this conjunction, the spellbinding nature took hold, as they drove out their passionate fables with the attention to detail of Springsteen, or mentors, Guthrie and Segar. Often morbid subjects which other bands would refuse to attempt, yes, it can be dark at times. The album’s penultimate Winter Town being a prime example, yet carried off with such sublime precision, it awe-inspiring, Adam taking lead on this one beautifully.

The finale was, what I consider their magnum-opus, at least to-date, The Devil Dealt the Deck, and it came with a lighter explanation then I’d have imagined, but still, it stands as a testament to blanket Concrete Prairie’s range, it’s morose, yet builds in layers to danceable proportions of folk. Though of the ending, an encore was unanimous, and surprisingly, they arrived back on stage for a quick version of the Coral’s uplifting Pass it on, led by birthday boy bassist, Dan Burrows.

I was thrilled to catch this band in Calne, of whom Americana UK awarded a ten-out-of-ten album review, because all praise is thoroughly deserved, and their link to the wonderful Calne Music & Arts Festival was revealed by resident violinist, Georgia Browne, stating her mum was a chief organiser, and she appeared here since she was eight.  The ethos remains for the festival, earlier events promote school choirs and young talent. This was also a marvellous accolade and association, resulting in something of a homely atmosphere, where respect was given. Outside, my opening line in meeting the other band members, aside Joe who I already met, was we really need to get you in Devizes, and they leaked a secret they’re booked somewhere in town very soon. The Southgate I havered a guess, and I believe, without quizzing Deborah, tis true. When they do, wow, I thoroughly recommend you attend and show them what we’re made of!

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Devizes Arts Festival Rules, OK?!

Alas, it’s been a long week since the Devizes Arts Festival called time. It feels a little like when my Dad would take the Christmas…

I Shuffled in Swindon, and I Liked It!

Yep, It’s Swindon Shuffle weekend, and so I thought it best to poke my nose in…..

Voice recognition they call it, I call it defective verbal dysentery. My precise articulation fails on a number of letters and numbers from my vehicle reg, and I’m wound up. Parking apps; pet hate, so, call a number, it says, fuck you, nonhuman Noddy, I’m relocating, to a known carpark where you put these primative nuggets of bronze into a machine, wondering why I, aging country bumpkin that I am, bothered to come to the smoke of Swindon centre in the first place. Though it was a passing aggravation, my only rant about the Swindon Shuffle, and hardly their fault anyways…..

Like a lukewarm sea, once you’re immersed it’s lovely, and if the ground I once frequented is so alien, Swindon College, Regent Circus, now an underground carpark unpermitable for technophobes with a neon multiplex atop, one step up the hill and dependable Old Town greets you. Dependable because other than a few shop facades changing, it’s prettty much the same as it always was, the one safe haven within the roundabout-infested sprawling metropolis with its name derived from “pig hill.” Apologies Swindonites, I’m tetchy only about your carparks, and every large town has them.

So now I’m decending Vic Hill with the pleasent scent of kebab houses, on a misson to cram myself into the sardine tin which is The Beehive. It’s my first port of call, a bee line, (gettit?) after reviewing the singlemost amazing debut album from a local act, I was coming to see Concrete Prairie no matter the machine, urbanisation and rammed public house.

But it’s the most welcoming sardine tin, it has to be, the bustling Beehive is a wonderful no-frills pub making do with the space it has, adorned with quirky decor, and filled with smiling faces there for this legendary fifteenth Shuffle, a multi-venue long weekend testimonial to local live music, in aid of Prospect House. I’m immediately feeling homely in this hospitable watering hole, if a tad sultry.

I have to grab a word with chief coordinator Ed Dyer, in which he reveals this time legwork is reduced by having a promotor at each venue, though every year it’s rammed like this at most of the venues. Took me to pondering if a mere market town of Devizes populas could ever accommodate such a scale event without a severely dispursed crowd in each individual venue, but here, it works.

And it works with half-hour sets, timed somehow, with precision engineering, this colossal musician assemble spanning too many names to mention, let alone amass a comprehensive coverage. But such was yours truly impressed with what I did manage to injest, I’m contemplating if I should make Swindon Shuffle a B&B getaway next year.

It was good to bump into Kelly Adams, of Lacock’s Wiltshire Blues and Soul Club, hosting this venue’s entertainment, old friend and newspaper entrepreneur Jamie Hill, and Joel Rose, whose set I unfortunately missed. The question was if Concrete Prairie could, in this petite space, recreate the magic of said album, and they did, with bells on. One cover, and a few peaches from the album was all it took to convince me this is a band we so desperately need to get into our town, their stage pressence was topnotch, their timing impeccable and original compositions just melt.

One silver lining to the parking botheration is I’m closer uphill to my car once settled in the reliable Victoria, which is where I’m hotfooting it to next. Keen to catch Salisbury’s upcoming recommended CarSick, though skate-metal-punk not my preferred cuppa I’m game for those who do it well. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you; CarSick pulled a sicky, though no reports it was actually in any kinda vehicle.

Instead, Kieran Moore, coordinator for this legendary venue under his stalwart Sheer banner, flew in a young three-piece called InAir, who thrashed it out professionally, in a most pleasing fashion, so one could feel the bass rumble under one’s feet; I like that in any genre.

For where the Beehive is a welcoming but crammed bustling hive, The Victoria has a large pit aback, geared toward gigging. While slightly more conventional, and certainly more spacious, it still holds charm and you know when you decend those stairs into the black magic box, The Vic will pull a rabbit from its hat.

Proir to InAir’s blown away set, I spotted the man himself, fronting the Saturday headliner at the Vic, it’s impossible to miss him. “You’re out of Devizes?!” he cried in mirth; am I not allowed to be?!

Mike Barham towered, chatting enthusiastically, while bassit Rob McKelvey stood smiling, a position he’d compromise before the finale by circular squirming the stage floor while strumming his last notes. Yeah, with missing drummer Luke Bartels, who’d arrive on the scene soonishly, complaining of the after-effects of the pre-gig curry they’d had, the one InAir promised themselves on stage never to do again, ah, bless, the joys of reuniting with the NervEndings lads on neutral ground.

And they did their thing, loud and proud as before, though slightly more professional I hassen to add, with boundry-pushing banter. It’s one hardcore band easy on my acceptance, because there’s a blues influence. Mike nodded to Devizes’ affection for blues, and attempted a tune geared that Jon Amor way, but it fell short of a younger crowd, there to mosh and roll, or whatchamacallit. A quick switch rammed the dancefloor again, and those purveyors of noise were at it, superbly. Something Devizions need not miss when Sheer takes the Bin for free, on the 7th October.

To conclude, for what bore witness to mine eye, Swindon Shuffle is more than worthy bounding over the downs for, and what’s furthermore, you’re best leaving any ill-conceived notions at home. For loutish hooliganism, I saw none, just a mass of widespread age demographic live music aficionados, relishing the moment of strolling Old Town in bliss. Bouncers, I saw one, happily munching on a salmon sandwich.

There’s no prentious big names, no grand finale tribute act wandering around like they’re the real McCoy, no ethos to let the local orginal acts do their thing early and get sloshed awaiting a mainstream headliner. This is wholly dedicated, not just to a worthy charity, but to promoting upcoming local talent, which is precisely the kind of thing we love here at Devizine Towers; go Swindon; it continues today, (Sunday.)

Ace-High Debut Album from Concrete Prairie

Some albums are an immediate love at first listen, but as time passes you start to see holes. Others take time to digest, growers; you learn to love them. Going in blind on this one, I’ve seen the Swindon-based band name floating around locally, favourites at The Tuppenny, Trowbridge’s Pump, and they knocked it out of Town Gardens at My Dad’s Bigger Than Your Dad. I’ve listed them on our event calendar, and well, guess I just liked the ironic rootsy name, Concrete Prairie, reminding me of Marley’s Concrete Jungle. I was more than pleasantly surprised.…..

It did both, an immediate love, ever-growing. There’re no holes here, their self-titled debut album, out tomorrow (2nd September) is made from solid rhinestone. Solemn when needed, indignantly peppy otherwise, but always chiaroscuro and earnest. Americana, folk noir, of the like of Johnny Cash, vocally akin, with the depth and command of Jim Morrison, and, I kid you not, dammit it’s on that greatness level too.

There are secret treasures buried here, though lyrics chant, “you know when shit hits the fan, I’ll be the man who’s picking up pieces,” its humble Nashville-esque beginnings doesn’t prepare you fully for the finale. The Devil Dealt the Deck is an ambitious tragedy-come-rhapsody ending, it is their Stairway to Heaven, bronc-riding Othello, sublimely moreish.

Betwixt them are eight other solid and lengthy tunes, caringly crafted, exceptionally well delivered. Ballads of Bakersfield backbeat like I Wish you Well roll into the particularly Cash sounding Day by Day, merging into acoustic fingerstyle backwood blues rock by the haunting Hard Times, when things suddenly head foot-stomping bluegrass. By the upbeat People Forget you’re fully immersed in its evocative depictions, as it weaves and blends all subgenres in-between, wonderfully wrapped in this aforementioned dark prose.

Astonished I messaged them, to confirm this was their debut album, all too easy to perceive this as the project of legendary rock stars who hoisted in the best producer to reconnect their roots after decades of golden discography. They did in fact, find the ears of John Reynolds, producer for The Indigo Girls, Damien Dempsey and Sinead O’Connor.

Take the forlorn howl of Guthrie in his darkest moment, there’s broken characters of Springsteen’s Nebraska in the narrative too, yet somehow those desperate nuances here rise above both their melancholic murmur; it’s got edge but at best times it rides it frenetic and fierce; rootin’, tootin’ and a-shootin’!

Joe, from the band tells me, “It’s been a few years in the making due to some somewhat global delays!” But comparable to an artist who cannot leave a painting alone for finishing touches, it’s obvious after a listen, there’s a serious amount of work gone into this. Yet no one creates their magnum opus so early, surely? I confess I liked Springsteen’s inaugural The Wild, The Innocent and The E Street Shuffle, or Floyd’s Meddle better than the matured Born to Run or Dark Side of the Moon, but I accept their place is lesser popularly; if this then is the par of those, I want to be around when they do their masterwork.

There’s a fair bit of cliché Americana around and about, wishy-washy mediocre, but these guys aren’t sitting around a campfire with a can of beans playing the fart game here, this is concentrated, solid material, a real sheriff’s badge. This is how it should be done, if you catch my drift, and its equal distance away from Achy Breaky Heart as acid-techno is!

Launch day is tomorrow, across streaming platforms. CDs are up for pre-order on Amazon and the album will also be seeing a vinyl release: link here.

They’re play Swindon Shuffle, and there’s an album launch at Moles, Bath, Saturday 3rd September with Barney Kenny in support. Tickets here, are just a fiver.

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A Chat With Lib Dem Candidate for Melksham & Devizes, Brian Matthew

You know I’m a lady’s man but nestled between chats with Green Party candidate Catherine and our forthcoming one with Kerry of Labour, I’m with the Liberal Democrat candidate for Melksham-Devizes, Brian Mathew. So no flirting this time, straight political chat! Obviously not as handsome as me, but Brian is one wise gent with a…

Talk in Code are All In for New Single

Swindon indie pop virtuosos Talk in Code released their brand new single, All In, Yesterday, via Regent Street Records. And We. Love. Talk in Code here at Devizine Towers…. Bridging the gap between eighties new wave electronica and nineties indie pop, Talk in Code are producing original timeless anthems. All In is unarguably their finest…

REVIEW – Devizes Arts Festival – Duo Tutti @ Assembly Room 13th June 2024

A Lunchtime Amuse-Bouche by Andy Fawthrop Devizes Arts Festival’s programme continued on Thursday afternoon with a lunchtime classical concert in the beautiful surroundings of the Assembly Hall in the Town Hall.  Coming on a market day, it was no surprise that town was busy, and plenty of people used the opportunity to make their way…

REVIEW – Devizes Arts Festival – Martin Simpson @ Corn Exchange 12th June 2024

Masterclass by Andy Fawthrop Devizes Arts Festival’s programme continued last night, and it was the turn of another big name to grace the stage of the Corn Exchange. Martin Simpson is, in the contemporary folk world at least, the equivalent of Royalty, or a National Treasure.  He’s been performing and recording for over forty years,…

Award-Winning Devizes Scooter Club Revving for Rally!

Devizes Scooter Club put their braces together and their boots on their feet, for a moonstomping win of the Best Turned-Out Club at the 25th Isle of Wight Lambretta Day. Congratulations also goes to member Gary Chivers for winning best Lambretta too…. There’s colossal pride and respect in Devizes Scooter Club, which transforms into motivation…

A Chat With Green Party Candidate For Melksham-Devizes, Catherine Read

Over the coming weeks I’m having cuppas with candidates of the Melksham-Devizes constituency crazy enough to indulge my political ignorance and endure my inane waffling; it’s funnier this way! First under my spotlight is Catherine Read, standing for the Greens…. Bulked with other scoops the night before I was short of time to put in…

REVIEW – Devizes Arts Festival – Belinda Kirk @ Cheese Hall 11th June 2024

Right Out Of The Comfort Zone by Andy Fawthrop Following a lively few days of entertaining and varied events over this last weekend, we’re now into Devizes Arts Festival’s second week.  I decided to trundle along to the Cheese Hall earlier this afternoon to find out what Belinda Kirk might have to say for herself. …