Swindon Gets Shuffling!

Despite the population of Devizes throwing confetti and paint at each other in their most celebrated annual ritual, I believe I picked the right weekend to visit Swindon; deffo, or are they always โ€˜aving it there?!

The Wildcats whipped butt at their first league game of the season on Friday, but my Saturday was dedicated to exploring the arts, something criticised stereotypically by outsiders. I could sigh, with partial agreement, historically perhaps. Swindon caressed industrial boom, somewhere along the line forgoing its arts and culture. This is changing, and fast, the Shuffle is a skeleton key opening said transpose.

What’s not thankfully changed is Old Town, while central Swindon is unrecognisable compared to twenty years ago. Just as Swindon Paint Fest has decorated the walls with impressive street art, the Swindon Shuffle is the event pushing the town’s boundaries in locally sourced live music. There’s few annual events in Wiltshire showcasing entirely local music, I best liken the Shuffle to The Bradford Roots Festival at the Wiltshire Music Centre. Save, this is spread across the choicest pubs in Swindon rather than under one purpose-built complex.

And it is a mammoth simultaneous exhibition of musical talent, a taster of what the county offers, of which it’d be impossible to witness entirely; best I approach this diary-like, apologies to the many bands I missed. We’re talking over seventy acts spread across nine venues for this four-day beast in its eighteenth year, and it remains free, fundraising via donation buckets for Prospect Hospice. 

Available for the Saturday only, my intention is to take as big a bite of it as I can, taste some known favourites and cross a number of must-sees off my ever-growing list.

Swindon Shuffle is a beautiful thing, a convention for local musicians, promoters, media types and aficionados. I stepped off the bus at The Tuppenny, in a hurry and frustrated I’d now missed Sienna Wileman and likely Chippenham’s singer-songwriter Meg, to bump into Sienna’s father Richard, big Shuffle chief Ed Dyer on the door, and luckily, Meg’s dad Paul; the latter meaning Meg was still playing and I managed to catch the last few songs of this unique and emotive rising star.

This tavern was bustling yet functioning happily, a crowd immersed in Meg’s magical words, set the stage for Americana soloist Jol Rose, up next. Something of a Swindon optimistic Dylan, he retains his concentrated narrative songs in favour of the more lighthearted ditties and banter to appease, though there was a poignant one on the Gaza conflict, but whichever his outlook, Jol is a proficient entertainer and skilled master of his craft.

Breaking familiar territory, new one for me, David Corrigan of The Astral Ponies followed, with an inspiring set of acoustic versions of his band’s songs. The dilemma of going tried and tested against treating the Shuffle as a voyage of discovery set in; solved by the next few hours whereby acts I’m making a beeline for I’m aware of but yet to see live. I tend to get over-excited about such prospects, and figured drinking cider like water might help.

Make no mistake, I could’ve cemented myself in at The Tuppenny, such is its comfy atmos, but, hot on this must-see list, Swindon’s Afro-Latin collective Zambalando are due in a coffee shop on Commercial Road called Baristocats, so I’m moving on. The cafรฉ was bustling and I was early, recalling a Facebook post that the Midlife Krisis sound system was set up in the courtyard of Level III, exterior to the Shuffle program. I thought I’d temporarily breach the Shuffle and check. Bass rolling down the street like the millennium never happened, I turned one corner to find a throbbing little afternoon rave going on, with their symbolic milk-float fronted DJ booth, a wall of sound and smiley ravers giving it some.

Observing street art of city magnitude I left assured, Shuffle or no, Swindon has embraced diverse arts on a level unrivalled by its recent history. Only the thought of Zambalando dragged me away from the old skool vibes, but upon arrival back at Baristocats it seemed they’d cancelled. Nevertheless I commandeered a sofa, tea and toastie, chatting to Swindon’s premiere reggae/ska keyboardist Erin Bardwell, who’s collective Subject A played the Shuffle on Thursday. Baristocats are hip, make a damn fine toastie, and XTC’s keyboardist Barry Andrews, aka Stic Basin, was taking us on a blissful journey of ambient dub.

If Iโ€™m complimenting Swindon, may as well include some infrastructure too, for tucked behind the now commercialised Regent Circus is the steep Prospect Hill, ingeniously with a pub at both the top and bottom. This would be my resting place for the duration, the short distance from the Beehive to the Castle manageable, if uphill, to switch between multi-musician Richard Wileman & singer and saxophonist Amy Fryโ€™s gorgeous experimental jazz-come-psychedelia at the Beehive, and Liddington Hill whoโ€™ve created their own subgenre, Celtic-grunge, and were currently giving it whatโ€™s for at The Castle. Allowing me to cross two must-sees off my list. Liddington Hill was brilliantly loud and in your face, everything Iโ€™d imagined and more, and crowds gathered to salute that.

Unlike the Beehive, I was unfamiliar with the Castle, yet felt immediately at home; it had been invaded by both โ€˜Talkersโ€™ awaiting the headliner, and cheesemakers from Calne, real ones! Itโ€™s fine, off territory, no dispute, love The Real Cheesemakersโ€™ hilarious wurzel take on heavy rock, and boy did they blast it superbly!

Only good things heard about the next band were certainly not fibs. The Belladonna Treatment is a remedy for an off-balance in indie-rock, pop and punk; all subgenres were subtly intertwined idiosyncratically, and beguilingly delivered to sardine-packed admirers, and a new fan here. Unfortunately Trunk, the penultimate act at the Castle I had to miss due to an emergency burger mandate. Itโ€™d be fifteen minutes wait at the chippy, I was content, itโ€™s opposite the Victoria, Swindonโ€™s stalwart music venue and one I unusually gravitate towards.

Age thing, the lineup was particularly heavy and aimed at the younger demographic at the Vic tonight, NervEndings headline, and Iโ€™m well aware of their force of nature as they spawned in Devizes, adding our quintessential blues module to their furiously yet accomplished sound. A whistlestop no longer than a burger on a grill, enough to note it was equally as packed and having it there as the Castle, Lucky Number Seven were ensuring it.      

But if you know me well enough youโ€™ll know if indie-pop virtuosos Talk In Code are there, so am I. Itโ€™s a march back to the Castle for a grand finale of eighties-tinged goodness. I never doubt, Talk in Code pulled it out of the bag, the place was thumping, the crowd were jumping, and the end, for me, to Swindon Shuffle was the icing on an exceptionally tasty cake.

The show continued Sunday, had to miss Concrete Prairie, Courting Ghosts, Cooper Creek, Leon Daye, and others, but I believe I took a fair bite out of this extravaganza, this local music expose, certainly enough to know if you only spend one weekend a year in Swindon, youโ€™d be best advised to make it this one.

You can still donate online to Swindon Shuffle’s fund for Prospect Hospice HERE.


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Rooks; New Single From M3G

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Has Swindon’s Liddington Hill Created Celtic Grunge?!

Explosive new EP from Liddington Hill released tomorrow, Edge of Insanity, begging the question, have they created a whole new subgenre?

As an impressionable Essex teenager coming from a hip hop background, thrust unwillingly into an eerie Wiltshire village like Sam Emerson in the Lost Boys, I endeavoured to align myself with the musical tastes of the natives. Yet, while I pre-gained a penchant for soft metal, the pop charts latest exploitation, I never envisioned lying semi-subconsciously under a fallen Christmas tree with a gang of crusty kids, while the needle stuck on the last notes of the Pouges’ Transmetropolitan, and everyone too drunk on Cinzano to change the record.

Fair to assume The Pouges belted me hard in the bum-fluffed chops, it would be unthinkably embarrassing to show affection for folk music, surely? But this, this was fast and furious, like the punk of a bygone childhood, and turned my preconceptions on its head. Now it’s commonplace, the Celtic punk of Flogging Molly and The Dropkick Murphys are instant likes, but I’ve become immune to their ferociousness; the violent police response to break up parties, and mass of abandoned fires burning across a post-apocalyptic looking Glasto main stage after The Levellers spoke out about not letting the travellers in that year made sure of it.

Yet a want for angry music never extended to grunge by the time it arrived, though I now see it’s worth and power, I was a raver, and felt reggae was the only meaningful source left I’d consider; dance music was blithe and fantastical. So, as I’ve only ever been a window shopper of grunge, I confess dubiousness when Matthew of Liddington Hill emailed me, “it’s a bit grungier.” Not forgoing, it’s been two years since we featured them last, reviewing their debut EP Cow, and if I liked it, which I did, there was always a niggly its songs of traditional Irish shanty and tales of Swindon pub crawls lacked that archetypal anger commonly associated with Celtic punk; they’ve sure made up for that now.

New EP then, out tomorrow (2nd June) called Edge of Insanity, rips a new hole in the fabric of what’s acceptable and very possibly creates a subgenre, for Google searching โ€œCeltic Grungeโ€ doesn’t amass much more than separate Celtic punk and grunge offerings. The Swindon five-piece ask on their blog, “is Celtic grunge a thing yet?” It is now, well done you, because it works, take it from someone for whom grunge is not usually their cuppa.

With some band changes and maternity leave, Edge of Insanity goes much further up Liddington Hill. Peering down on themes of serial killers and the Aberfan disaster, it takes no prisoners itself, carelessly teetering on the edge, as it suggests on the tin. The Celtic riffs against grunge chords is a match made in heaven and a wonder no one thought of it before, bands like Ferocious Dog only meeting part of the way. It’s this blend staring us in the face which makes it for me, bending my grunge preconceptions of โ€˜yeah Nirvana was great, but I’m delving no deeper than the baby on the cover;โ€™ Iโ€™m a Celtic folk hussy, add a slice of it and I’m yours!

Another winner is, beneath the dark and angry dispositions on offer, thereโ€™s historical gospel in the narrative. The opening tune In Rosie’s Room concerns a real mid-19th Century prostitute in gold rush America who tried to steal from a gold mine with her lover. With a hypnotic riff it rings how this EP is going to play out; indignantly dynamic and in your face.

Hold onto your hat though, as itโ€™s about to get real screamy. Keep Hold of your Heart really is a furious thrashed punk expression from the perspective of an inmate in a Sanitorium. Illustrates my point though, usually my toes would curl at this intensity, but given this Celtic roots riff running through it, I can get aboard; it makes The Pouges sound like Brotherhood of Man!

The edge chills off, slightly, Capped in Black is the Aberfan themed song, possibly the ace of spades here, the balance of grunge and Celtic punk is refined and the anger within comes to a dramatic close leaving you aghast at the notion this disaster was allowed to have happened; the effect is achieved.

American serial killer Aileen Wuornos under Liddington Hillโ€™s radar next, the track Maid Of Mayhem is perhaps my personal favourite, retrospectively punk with their new bassist Alannah on first person vocals and making a wonderful job of it, itโ€™s akin to Siouxsie Sioux reworking Springsteenโ€™s Nebraska, on fire!

The 1940s Lipstick Killer, William Heirens is next on the bandโ€™s unglorified hall of serial killer fame with the finale, Lipstick. The band explained, โ€œLiam, for some reason became inspired after reading about a few serial killers and the reasons behind such terrible actions. So he wrote a few songs and we put some together with a couple of other heart-wrenching songs we’d written.โ€ The grunge element seems to wane in favour of upfront punk rock, as we progress past Keep Hold of your Heart, and Iโ€™m grateful for this. Lipstick polishes this explosive caliginous EP off, suitably akin to The Stooges or even early Ramones, while retaining this Celtic folk riff credited to The Pouges, and for this, plus itโ€™s astounding step up in expression and production, is a yes from me.

Free entry to the Vic in Swindon on Thursday 15th June for the EPโ€™s launch party with support from Lucky Number Seven and Dark Prophecy. Find out more info about tomorrowโ€™s release on Liddington Hillโ€™s website, HERE and Facebook HERE.


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One Of Us; New Single From Lady Nade

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Liddington Hill Celtic Punk!

Sometimes, and quite a number of times I might add, nothing fits the bill quite like a bout of pounding bibulous Celtic punk, by a band with a girl donning a cowโ€™s head as a mascot. But how far would you expect to trek to find such a group of misfits, Wales, Ireland?

Suggested in the name, Liddington Hill, the beautiful down overlooking Swindon, with the Ridgeway traversing and its iron age hillfort, is local enough. Not since the days of the Blitz, when the area was used as a โ€œStarfishโ€ decoy bombing bunker, has it been so explosive.

Whatโ€™s the link to Liddington with this scorching five-piece band, who have just released their debut EP, Cow after a few singles, I felt imperative to ask? โ€œWe all lived in Swindon at the time we started,โ€ fiddle and vocalist Matt told, โ€œour singer grew up around the area and went up to Liddington Castle a lot as a child. It seemed to be a bit of a landmark and with the Ridgway close by had great links to the past, so I guess it just seemed like a good name.โ€

Two members remain in Swindon, the other two now live in Oxford, and drummer Chris hails from Chippenham. With fiddles and a bodhrรกn meshed with electric guitars, the line between punk and traditional Celtic folk cannot be yanked apart, not that there’s any good reason to try to.

The bobbing theme of a band drinking excursion to Oxford, Pub Crawl, follows a dynamic and unique slide-guitar take of the folk sea shanty, Whip Jamboree.

An almost new-wave post-punk feel is implemented into the melting pot with the third tune, Marshlands, an original song about lead guitarist Liam’s Grandfather in Ireland, โ€œwho wouldn’t ride a horse,โ€ Matt explained, โ€œbut insisted on riding a cow!โ€ Hence the cow symbolism, Iโ€™m best guessing.

The EP ends traditionally, with Joseph B. Geogheganโ€™s anti-war music hall classic, Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye, and Liddington Hill bless the folk feel with their brand of punk, making for a perfect finale. While it might not be as authentic as The Pouges, or as aggressive as The Levellers, with bands like Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys storming success in the US, thereโ€™s a huge market for this beguiling genre, yet a scarcity on the local scene, and Liddington Hill pack a punch.

Itโ€™s a grower, and Iโ€™m loving this, anticipating possibility of an album to greater extend their scope, but as far as energetic presence is concerned, itโ€™s kick-ass. Branded subtly, though, to suit a pub environment, so a live show, fingers crossed for their definite return, would be something highly memorable and Iโ€™d recommend landlords book them in; certainly, itโ€™d push up the beer sales!


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Chatting With Burn The Midnight Oil

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