In a way it’s more intriguing when a cover band sends an original song than one already producing originals. For if original bands can sometimes be critical of the desire of pub venues to value cover bands over them, yeah, your average cover band is heeding the call for their bread and butter, but are often equally passionate about music, and turn to recording some of their own wares. And when they do it’s natural to pay homage to the particular style they play in, as guaranteed, that’s their calling and influence…..
Certainly true of Marlborough-based Static Moves, who released a debut single today, full of the retrospective energy they’re celebrated for at live shows. They turned a cold February night at the Three Crowns in Devizes into a volcano, as they regularly warm crowds at a plethora of local venues with a repertoire of welcomed new wave to Britpop covers.
The concern is that the raw energy doesn’t transfer to the recording, but you have no worries here; it’s the dog’s bollocks. Crawl Back, as they’ve called it, belts out an accomplished potential anthem of precisely what they’re loved for on the circuit. A matured and modern indie-rock spliced “Turning Japanese” by the Vapors, with a carefree attitude of the Merton Parkas. It’s got the new wave mod-punk crossover of the early eighties splashed across it like two-tone trousers and Fred Perry T-shirts never went out of fashion. And it didn’t, because you can hear its influence crying out for attention in contemporary indie-rock bands, ergo, the appeal of Crawl Back reaches beyond nostalgic middle-aged to youths today.
With a theme of the tail between your legs sympathy vote, forgiveness is key when you still fancy the wrongdoer, forget the three minute hero, this weighs in at four and a half, and it waits for no man to catch up with it. In a way the length of this whopper is more indicative of modern punk bands, but you cannot help but imagine you’re at a musky gig in 1981, it costs two quid to get in, you’ve only got one and half a packet of fruit Polos to trade with the glue-sniffers hanging outside drinking tins of Tennents!
Static Moves promises more of their, indeed, moreish raw energy captured, and if there’s more in the pipeline, an EP would be welcomed, an album worth would be knockout, because they could, and should, slip this into their covers set and no one would be any the wiser it wasn’t an album track from Modern English or a nineties influenced crew like The Coral or Supergrass; it’s on that level of excellence too, and that’s why they’re all over our local circuit like Dr Martens were in 1981.
Bussing into Devizes Saturday evening, a gaggle (I believe is the appropriate collective noun) of twenty-something girls from Bath already on-board, disembark at The Market Place. One cries out her desperation for the loo, but there’s no detours to another bar en-route for relief, they’re steadfast to their destination, The Three Crowns; a wise choice….
I’m heading that way too, trying to pick up pace and overtake them, so as not to convey I’m some creepy codger following them from the bus! Some lads intervened with a wolf-whistle down the Brittox, I gathered at them and not me. I’ll quip with them to break the ice, in hope they see it’s coincidental that our destinations are the same. It worked, they seemed unconcerned, and giggly.
With a fresh lick of paint it really didn’t need in comparison with others, and a scrumptious selection of designer burgers, The Three Crowns is the go-to pub for gen z coming of age, millennials, and a number of elder diehard party heads who still think they’ve “got it,” because they have, bless ‘em!
But the greatest thing about these cross-generational gatherings at The Three Crowns is the carefree atmosphere without division. Everybody is here to enjoy themselves. They crave a live band to throw high-energy covers at them, era-spanning songs they know, love and can sing along with, and they’ll party trouble-free together. Younger attendees will high five the elders, and dad dancers mingle without mockery, I hoped!!
I’m at the back gate chatting to landlord Simon while tonight’s band is sound checking. It’s this Marlborough-Swindon based band’s debut at The Three Crowns, but I assure him what I suspected, that Static Moves will fit like a glove. Not wanting to blow my own trumpet, but I was bloody right an’ all!
Static Moves are a side-burns, flat caps and pork pie wearing, two-Clives five-piece covers band with keyboards, in self-promoting black t-shirts. Even if these other elements don’t convey Static Moves are bringing a touch of new wave eighties mod retrospection to the table, any band boasting two Clives is a win-win!
Being honest, there have been occasions when I’ve dropped into the Crowns to see a great cover band, yet my desire for originals redirects my zimmer frame over to the trusty Gate, and I’m faced with two half-reviews; not this time. Static Moves are irresistible, and enthral any audience.
The systematics of Static Moves’ repertoire appears to be anything which can be delivered loud and proud like it’s Coventry in 1980 or Madchester in 1990. If a particular song choice isn’t, they make it so it is. Taking no prisoners they were greyhounds out of the starting traps, rarely coming up for air, save a short break.
The frontman isn’t Luciano Pavarotti, needs not to be, but is commandeering, can hold a note, and a dynamic showman, with a habit of launching his tambourine either airborne or into the crowd.
The band compliment the lively mannerisms, though fairly recently formed, all members hold a wealth of experience, which shows. It looks like a tight ship, a new drummer slipping into the kind of camaraderie which reflects onto the audience; they’re having fun, you will too.
Static Moves compact a party into their pocket, and, for want of a less Potterhead analogy, like a Choranaptyxis it expands to fit the available space when they catapult it out upon an anticipated crowd. They told me they were working on some originals, we’ll hold the front page.
There were components to their set, it kicked off seventies, absolutely scorched Primal Scream’s Rocks, then launched tongue-in-cheek into early eighties pop hits like Nena’s 99 Red Balloons, Kim Wilde’s Kids in America and even found time to make one-hit-wonder Tiffany’s smash their own! As you might imagine, this was my personal summit, ‘cos I bought those singles, but I also observed all generations present acknowledging and lapping up those bubblegum classics.
It moved as swiftly as their tempo onto tracks I’d consider were their own favourites, the more less commercial punk anthems like The Buzzcocks, by which time they had the audience eating out of their hands and could’ve pulled any cheesy bygone slush puppy out of their bag and still rinsed it! As it was they took to The Beastie Boys’ Fight for your Right, which was only amusing until they followed it with a grand attempt at Smells Like Teen Spirit.
Despite the diversity, the template of loud and proud prevented pigeonholing, a party band with a big sack of crowd-pleasers and an unrivalled enthusiasm to deliver them. The finale alongside Billy Idol, were millennial showboats, Britpop anthems, you know the one from The Killers, and yeah, they did Wonderwall, but while I deem that cliché, they did it well, and it always gives the youngsters an opportunity to show everyone they have torches on their phones!
Ahem, that’s irrelevant against the positivity of a diverse crowd throwing away their cares for a moment and enjoying themselves. That’s what’s infectious; you’re duty bound to follow suit with a band like Static Moves. I couldn’t physically leave until the deal was fully sealed.
The Three Crowns revel in this infection, and is the reason it bucks the trend of a decline in pub culture. Here is a Devizes lesson in how to do it, they deserve the praise but don’t really need it. Stalwart for a number of years now, most know the Three Crowns is a testament to a memorable night, including, it seems, girls bussing in from Bath.
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If there’s two types of scooter rally and scooterist festivals in the UK, the boss events like Skamouth and BSRA nationals, and those locally-based eensy events constituting little more than a beer garden with DJ, showy hairdryers and undercooked hotdogs, Devizes Scooter Club’s annual rally has sat between the opposing levels, aspiring to better the value of municipal rallies. In its fifth year, Devizes Scooter Rally sets a president above them, striving to create the kind of environment more suitable for those mainstream “boss” events, yet retains the communal atmosphere of smaller events; that’s its magnitude; it is a blessing to our town to host it.
It does this by staging an impressive, tried and tested lineup in a hospitable and affordable atmosphere. It’s the Mardi Gras of the club, and members work tirelessly to welcome guests and design the perfect setting. This is not me flattering them, last year I spoke to several guests at the rally, from all over the UK, who stated, (in their own subtle and slightly dribbling way) the reason they love this event is precisely this balance between the electric atmosphere of a local event yet packing the punch of an established larger one…or words to that effect!
Whilst music at the rally has always been first-class, names might not be so recognisable to those outside the scooterist niche. This is set to change, as Birmingham’s The Beat were one of the key bands in the UK ska revival of the late ‘70s and ‘80s, and managed to crossover to the mainstream. You’ll all remember Mirror in the Bathroom, Hands off She’s Mine, and so many others, my personal favourite, Can’t Get Used to Losing You. You’ll all be up dancing, and making that essential Full Stop, I’m sure.
Set for the weekend of 25th-27th July, the rally for 2025 also boasts The return of the Butterfly Collective, Small Faces tribute, Small Fakers, Wardour Street, Cardiff’s The Brew, and DJs of the Soul Pressure sound system, but, thing is, you’ve only a couple of days to get your early bird wristband. Facebook message the Devizes Scooter Club, or call 078088 49965 now!
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There’s colossal pride and respect in Devizes Scooter Club, which transforms into motivation in staging their events, and none more grand than the Devizes Scooter Rally, set for 26th-28th July this year at Lower Park Farm; backed by the shack of a soul boss, most turnin’, stormin’ sound o’soul!
To presume a scooter rally is akin to a caravan club, where enthusiasts saunter a field gawking at each other’s hairdryers all day, endlessly waffling about cylinder head nuts, is partially true; your atypical rally could be only this, sprinkled with warm lager and a DJ if you’re lucky. But in just its 4th year Devizes Scooter Rally is not this niche, it’s family-orientated fun for anyone with so much as a passing interest in scooters, enveloping retrospective mod, soul and skinhead cultures.
This thing, I swear, borders festival proportions and ethos, with camping and showers, a busy bar, food, vintage clothes and parts side stalls, and boasts six tried and tested live music acts. And the music doesn’t stop while a band sets up; you’re treated to Terry Hendrick’s Soul Pressure sound system, undoubtedly the UK’s finest Northern soul, boss reggae and ska DJ. Terry showed me a picture once of him hanging out with the late Toots Hibbert, and it didn’t feel too much like gloating!!
We’re lucky to have this on our doorstep, last year I chatted with a young lone mod who rode up from Crediton, and traditional skinheads from Manchester. It’s all bringing money to our area, but more importantly it’s a brilliant weekend.
There’s a mixture on the lineup, All That Soul we’ve not seen since a Scooter Club gig of yore, the most entertaining homage to the Motown sound. Similarly with The Dectonics. The Butterfly Collective debuted the rally last year with an engaging set of mod classics and undetectable originals. There’s a wildcard Slade tribute, and Goldsteppers and Skamageddon are new to me, but the latter speaks for itself!
The vital element to this unique and soul-fuelled weekend of boss reggae vibes, talc on the dancefloor and scooter ride-outs is its affordable price tag:
A weekend wristband is £30.00 including camping. Friday and Saturday all-day passes are £15.00, to camp add £5. Saturday Day only (10am – 5pm ) is £5. Accompanied children under 18 go free.
Reason for mentioning it at all is, if you’re thinking, “hey, that might be something I’d enjoy but fear it might be a bit insular and I’d be going home early, crying into my Ed Sheeran CD,”, you won’t be if you give it a try! You’ll find those scooter lot are a frivolous and friendly bunch who not only know how to party, but will welcome you to join them!
So, work it up one time, work it two time, shack it, back it! Devizes Scooter Rally is on, baby love, my baby love! I need you, oh, how I need you, but all you do is treat me bad, break my heart and leave me sad! Don’t Throw your love away, get a wristband HERE.
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Familiarity was key for me last night, if last weekend was new, trekking to Swindon for their soul and jazz festival, watching an amazing Gambian musician play a string instrument made from a cow skin covered pumpkin. Cue the theme to Cheers, sometimes I simply want to get down to my local, see a band I’ve seen umpteen times, and love, make no notes, take a few blurry snaps, and naturally, blow off work-day stress by sinking a few ciders too many, and when I do, The Southgate or Three Crowns in Devizes are my go-tos….
Apologies if we’ve covered this ground before, a number of times, but Devizine is a hobby. Therefore, I reserve my right to enjoy doing it! Not forgoing, I enjoy the adventure of finding acts I’ve not seen before and exploring new venues equally to the comfort of familiarity, so when Barrelhouse are in town the temptation is too much to resist; I’m legging it in the April drizzle to catch the bus!
There were two free live music options in D-town last night, both as valid as each other, as usual for a Saturday. The trusty Three Crowns had a new look Roughcut Rebels, those established mod to Britpop local favourites. I’ve had some reservations about recent lineup changes, but I’m aware there’s a new guy fronting the team. I must poke my nose in to investigate. So, too, did former members Finley and Mark, I jested to them that they were on the bench, but substitutions were unnecessary.
Only original lead guitarist, Weller-mod-cut John Burns remains, yet with proficiency cool as a cucumber, the new frontman, Jake Lockhart is unpretentiously smooth, bassist on cue, and a stickman who clearly knows his way around a drum kit. They roll out Kinks and Stones classics delightfully, I’m guessing this is going to go Britpop before long, and while I’d personally favour the setlist works in reverse, I’m not of the millennial majority in the Crowns the Rebels need to appease. I can ascertain they did, from their opening alone.
It only took a few songs to accept these guys had it in the pocket, and it was impendingly obvious the Three Crowns will explode into party mode post-haste, it always does by providing the best tried and tested cover bands. Like I say, familiarity. Time for me to grab my zimmer frame and join my own age demographic down at the Southgate; those Marlborough purveyors of sublime vintage blues must’ve soundchecked by now…
And so it was, The Southgate, as warm and welcoming as ever; found a place in the blossoming crowd of elder gig bunnies, and let Barrelhouse do their thing. If I do local circuit analysis and Marlborough comes up decidedly post-punk new wave and gothic, Barrelhouse better appeal to Devizes, perhaps; the Mel Bush effected blues aficionados. Although Barrelhouse is best served on hometurf, you should see the crowds turn out at Mantonfest; it’s a Marlborough blues phenomenon.
I’ve been telling Devizes this since they first appeared at our trusty Gate, to play to a slight crowd, an attraction which builds with each visit they make. Tonight was no exception. It was medium busy as they presented their wonderful show, squashed into the famous alcove, but with the passion and gusto they possess and input into every gig.
Turning the Southgate into a juke-joint is an easy feat, punters love their blues above all else. Though the Gate strives to bring a wider range, you only need to be there for the monthly Jon Amor Trio residency to confirm this. Barrelhouse is apt here, then, but it remains to be that some regulars still need to take heed of just how much these guys will rock them. Those present know the score now, Barrelhouse came, saw, petted the pub dogs, hung T-shirts over the toilet sign, and entertained superbly, again!
When they come your way, do check them out, I don’t fib, not about this anyway! The band are tight, the blues is vintage, with a fiery modern rock twist, in their calculated, balanced setlist of Muddy Waters, Howlin Wolf and other Americana covers, their own compositions which have become as anthemic as the classics to fans, and the brillant rock adaptations such as Motörhead’s Ace of Spades.
Frontman Martin Hands is hands-free, with no instrument other than his confident and convincing gritty delta blues vocals. The band complimented him, Tim is a guitar enthusiast, and his skills shine through. Stuart equally on bass, who acts as compère too. Nick adds to authenticity with harmonica, but it’s no secret he’s an authority both on, backstage, and in music production.
Even Martin’s fiancé Heidi sporadically guests backing vocals, as do others affectionately dubbed ‘Barrelettes’ when available, giving the band a real family feel.
Encoring Solomon Burke’s Everybody Needs Somebody to Love is standard protocol for Barrelhouse, and they’ve achieved their aim; the pub is pumping, and everybody is dancing. Another memorable evening at the Southgate, you can bet your home most nights are. Check our event calendar for upcoming gigs, but rest assured, thanks to them and the Three Crowns, Devizes remains punching above its weight when it comes to showcasing live local music and while our ticketed events only add to this, there’s gemstones to be found here freely. And we love it!
Have rally will travel; seemingly the scooterist’s motto, chatting to various friendly clubs nationwide, and individuals too, such as a dapper lone mod who rode up from Bridport on a three hour trek, while loitering with a pint of Thatchers in a field at Lower Farm on the Whistley Road. Overall, it’s more than fair to say, thanks to Devizes Scooter Club’s valiant and sedulous toil, Devizes is firmly on the map of must-do scooter rallies….
It would, without this blossoming national appeal have been a massively lesser affair; scooter culture being niche and though a blanket term retrospectively incorporating mod, skinhead and punk subcultures, isn’t, perhaps, appealing to enough locally to have successfully created something on this grand scale. Those local aficionados, or even with a passing interest in the scene therefore are truly treated, as Devizes Scooter Rally this weekend was spectacular.
There’s various reasons for saying this; a hospitable atmosphere throughout the event from attendees and organisers, a controlled and diligent attitude to structure, the underlying notion you’re not going to get ripped off at the bar or elsewhere, a donation to The Devizes & District Opportunity Centre, a worthy charity indeed, a calculatedly perfect site design from bar, venue to campsite, a wide variety of side stalls, and an apt music programme of talented bands and DJs, but mostly, it was the combination of them all which made it as fantastic as it was.
41 Fords
I spent the finale late night moments with some of the club’s valid members, as they reviewed an overall of the weekend, discussing rights against possible improvements. And with expandable site potential, just how far the annual rally could blossom before it becomes less congenial. As such they’ve set the date for 2024, 26th-28th July; if you missed this weekend put it in your diary, if you went I’d imagine you already have!
Sharp Class
So, I rocked up to wet my whistle on Friday, eager to catch up with those Trowbridge rockabilly stalwarts, 41 Fords, and witness Brighton’s revitalised mod marvels Sharp Class. Being there was another day to come, and I wanted to see you there Saturday, I knocked up a quick review of it: HERE. Saturday though, I’m on Shanks’s pony and up for a party; which was delivered to me uncompromisingly.
Apologies, too late to catch The Butterfly Collective, but my arrival coincided with the Roughcut Rebels’ set. Haven’t seen them since Mark moved to pastures new, but Jimmy Moore makes for a great frontman stand-in for Finley, and it was business as usual for this locally renowned Britpop mod band who plucked covers, like Wonderwall, otherwise cliché if not delivered by such an enthralling group from their extensive repertoire.
Roughcut Rebels, with added Jimmy Moore!
Next up a rare treat, Cath and Gouldy concentrating rather on wider variated Day Breakers outfit, and folk duo Sound Affects, but to have them back under The Killertones guise both more apt for the occasion and a delightful return to their new-wave-two-tone covers set. It was as whatever guise they operate on, perfected and bewitching, with vast improvements from already proficient young drummer, Katy York.
The Killertones
There was me figuring they’d peaked too soon, after ska classics like Pressure Drop, to speed into uptempo two-tone, like The Specials’ Little Bitch and Rancid’s Timebomb, but a sublime set slid nicely into new wave, particularly adroit being The Chords’ Maybe Tomorrow; dammit if Gouldy didn’t go all Morten Harket on us with an offbeat Take on Me, such a rework finale left the crowd spellbound and me realising how much I’d missed these guys!
With Terry Hendrick’s Soul Pressure on the wheels of steel while the headliners set up, a fashion to see the rally into the wee hours, betwixt it regulars at the rally, the south-coast’s longest established ska ensemble Orange Street ripped the roof off.
Terry Hendrick
I could’ve predicted it such, but it didn’t affect the show’s infectious appeal. At an eight-piece complete with brass section, Orange Street are a highly capable homage to Jamaica’s “first national sound,” which infatuated the youths of sixties Jamaica, and thereafter spread worldwide through era-spanning waves. The second wave most memorable to Britain through Windrush exports appealing to mods; the tsunami known as Two-Tone. And to which the band rightfully nodded to, but also provided original engaging material which fits like a glove into such a set.
Orange Street
The effect is akin to the attraction of the offbeat backwards shuffle, ska, which Prince Buster accidentally discovered during a recording session at Duke Reid’s studio Treasure Isle, not only reflects in the band name, the studio alongside Coxonne Dodd’s Studio One, both located on this legendary Kingston street, the equivalent of Nashville’s Music Row for reggae, but also in their performance which kicked off with a interlude of Madness’s Buster tribute, The Prince. Though it wasn’t long before the opening medley flowed neatly into the Specials’ Dog the Dog, and thereafter the whole spectrum of ska UK chart hits from Bad Manners to The Beat.
While other similar bands attempt to fuse later reggae styles, punk, or general electronica, Orange Street remain faithful to the roots and are therefore a premium choice for an event like this, cradled by a culture nostalgically devoted to it too. And in such, the event is so encapsulating there’s a jollity in the air impossible to hide. Coupled with the wider appeal outside the atypical scooter rally, with this extended and blossoming setup which had taken the Scooter Club weeks to set up, this is rather of festival proportions and equally as brilliant.
It only leads be to heartfeltly thank and congratulate The Devizes Scooter Club for bringing us another astounding event which offers diversity to our local music circuit, a jolly good beano, and also attracts nationwide fans to our area…even if I’ve been hearing their hairdryers zipping back and forth the dual carriageway all weekend!!
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First day back from my holibobs and though duties are to unpack and cut the flying ant infested grass, twist my arm, I reckon I can squeeze in a trek down the Whistley Road. Usually just a rat trap you take at your own risk, this weekend is home to hundreds of camping scooterists….
Devizes Scooter Club’s third Scooter Rally and things are looking exceptionally organised. Post-lockdown they set up here last year, relatively a slighter thing than this weekend, I understand. If you consider this a niche market, Devizes Scooter Rally has a festival feel, scooter enthusiasts have gathered from afar, but not to make it feel insular, Devizes Scooter Club invites locals too, and has laid on a shuttle bus from The Pelican; they certainly pull out the stocks.
There’s an extensive campsite, with showers, and stalls are plentiful from Jamaican food to clothes and scooter essentials. Fish n chips to brownies and parkas to engine oil surround a large marquee for a northern soul to ska disco, dispersed with some live acts.
From the music tent extends a plentiful seating area which flows nicely to the bar; the effect is functional and professionally designed; especially given this unpredictable British summer climate. It’s an impressive sight, dammit if they haven’t even got a pool table in there!
Day one done, this is going to go off tonight too. But for now we were treated to the wildcard, Trowbridge’s finest purveyors of feelgood rockabilly, 41 Fords. They never fail to enthuse the party, and if rockabilly isn’t usually on the agenda at a scooter rally, their infectious assortment of covers always raises a smile and taps a foot.
Headlining is Brighton-based Sharp Class, a young trio of highly accomplished Jam-like aficionados, and with fire in their hearts and an enthusiasm to mimic the mod culture they can effectively slip in a few akin originals between covers of The Jam and Clash, to Spencer Davis and The Kinks and make them not look misplaced. Sharp Class is a show of pure energy, verging on a tribute, though slyly original too, adroitly slipping between the two and hardly coming up for air.
Today’s (Saturday 29th July) lineup doubles the fun, The Butterfly Collective are on at 2pm, with our own The Roughcut Rebels at 6pm, Swindon favourites with added Sound Affects Cath & Gouldy, The Killertones from 7:45pm and the grand finale of one of the finest contemporary ska bands on the circuit, Orange Street. Then, naturally the Soul Pressure sound system, including legendary Northern soul DJ Terry Hendrick takes it to the wee hours, and Saturday all nighter tickets are a snip at £15, so polish your boots and give me some of that old moonstomping!
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See, I’m not sure ol’ Alfred the Great would’ve approved of the whopping gurt folly erected in his name near Bruton. He was there to rally Saxon troops for the Battle of Edington, and if you’re planning to go kick some Viking butt you need to be inconspicuous, not have a hundred-and-sixty-foot redbrick tower sticking out like a sore thumb. He might well have liked this though, a new Wiltshire four-piece named after the tower; because good tunes can be a real morale boost when going into battle……
And good tunes they are, though the group cite from Chippenham on their Bandcamp page, substantial mileage from the Stourhead estate where Alfred’s Tower is situated. Perhaps it’s the connotations of Alfred being the founder of English liberty, as these four tracks they sent us have a Brit “mod” tinge, and mods are patriotic at best. I didn’t like to ask, through fear of coming across all history teacher, and I’m all out of leather elbow patches for my Tweed jacket. The important part is there’s some beguiling original songs on offer here, uplifting in a manner Paul Weller, at his most optimistic.
Parachute Baby is a prime example, it’s sauntering along on the sunny side of the street of a crazy world, where only the attention of the object of his desires matters to this character, and it’s got that apt harmonica riff to lighten the darkest of moods. Though, if it’s got it, Roy Orbison style, switching to the next tune, Nothing Good and we’re foot-tapping on an offbeat, bouncy one-drop reggae melody, which counteracts the more dejected romantic theme; I’m smitten.
Though we’re getting ahead of ourselves now, for these two tracks are forthcoming, the first one out around Christmas time and the latter in the new year, but their Bandcamp page has two other songs equally worthy of your attention. This World is their inaugural release, and while uplifting too, it’s tender and mellowed. With a soulful piano intro, it’s certainly anthemic, with an allowance to note the astute writing, and showy in Alfred’s Tower’s potential.
It is however in the amalgamation of all these tunes which displays their diversity, an EP is a necessity, I feel. The second released single, So Long, is soulful again, along similar lines to This World, but balancing a poignant electric blues element, akin to a meld of The Who at their smoothest and Pink Floyd does pop. And perhaps there’s a clue to the chosen name in this; it’s a tower of variety, influences wise, reaching for the skies in uplifting narratives, strengthened by some skilfully executed original designs. Catchy within a rock classic formula, oh yeah, if this is foundational, the construction of Alfred’s Tower is one to watch. Like ‘em up on Facebook for updates on said progress. We NEED to see them live!
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Prince Akeem of Zamunda, that’s the bugger, least the fictional character played by Eddie Murphy in Coming to America, who walks over a shower of rose petals; that’s the Roughcut Rebels gigging in their hometown right now, but replace the petals with “party!” Yes, they dance over a bed of party, waltzing the crowd with them, and punch above their weight for the mod covers championship belt.….
For a band that know they can switch from the Beatles’, Hard Day’s Night, to Jack Bug’s Lighting Bolt, a local crowd will lay the petals for them. More so, they bring the party, as they saunter through them with a breeze of confidence. Confidence in their younger frontman, Fin, but also in the tightness of the knowledgeable band; it’s one not to be missed, as it was in the Three Crowns last night.
In pub with a McDonald’s-paced drinks service, due to its cashless agenda, there’s a marvellous outside venue completely covered with sparkling canope. The boss here knows his customers as he flicks me through his diary; The Three Crowns pays particular attention to accomplished local live cover acts it knows will bring the party, such as People Like Us, Illingworth, Paradox and, as clearly evident last night, those Roughcut Rebels.
They push the boundaries of eras, spanning in comfort any anthem with a mod tinge, and saunter from sixties to eighties, from Rolling Stones to The Jam, yet slide equally as neatly and timelessly as a Fred Perry shirt into Britpop and into contemporary indie sing-a-longs.
Polishing the evening off with the Stereophonics’ Dakota, it’s a scooter rideout through time, from The Who to Oasis, and everything in between. This equates to a highly entertaining show, akin to a Now, That’s What I Call Mod Music compilation album, but live and with Wiltshire hint; I honour Fin doesn’t attempt a cockney accent when reenacting Phil Daniels’ Parklife monologue, because it’s a little west country thing, and it rocks!
With a extensive gourmet burger type menu, The Three Crowns is a golden nugget on our pub circuit, and Finley and Mark of the band are the next stop musically, playing the bank holiday Monday in support of The Reason.
The Roughcuts can be seen again at The Barge in Seend Cleeve on September 2nd, and appear at the highly anticipated Party For Life fundraiser at Melksham Town FC on the 10th September.
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Chippenham folk singer-songwriter, M3G (because she likes a backward “E”) has a new single out tomorrow, Friday 19th December. Put your jingly bell cheesy tunes … Continue reading “Rooks; New Single From M3G”
Randomly, long overdue, and hopefully welcomed, it’s the return of our Song of the Day posts. A short article usually without much actual reference to the subject, rather a quick nonsensical thought accompanying a video; something I can knock out quickly on my phone while watching mind numbing bollocks on TV.
Let’s say no more about knocking anything out with a phone, I’ll endeavour to try not to let it slip again, but make no promises, I’m dodgy like that.
So, on to the actual video! Italian mods, The Piaggio Soul Combination have just released this swinging classic soul sounding single, the first from their forthcoming third album Soultimate, and we love it. So, get your talc out, and bust a your move.
The joyous retro-soul floorshaker ‘Hang On’ is taken from the album Soultimate, their first album for punk and garage label par excellence, Area Pirata. Set for release at the end of January, it’s also the band’s first album to find them collaborating with Arkansas-raised singer Lakeetra Knowles.
Hailing from Pisa and led by keyboard wizard Marco Piaggesi, the collective recorded the album with UK producer, musician, writer and Blow Up club DJ Andy Lewis. Formatted with club DJs in mind, the 14-track Soultimate is released on double 45 rpm 12-inch vinyl
Mega-retrospective bliss, this album from London’s Treetop Flyers, got me reminiscing…..
An expression of mixed emotions hung on my dad’s face as he sauntered past my bedroom. “What you listening to?” he grumbly enquired. He’s joined the dots between my music listening habits and his diminishing record collection, “yeah? I used to have that album….”
Property is theft for the anarchist, least this isn’t even theft, just relocated within the same household, and I’d like to think, flattery and the notion his records were getting revitalised befell my father. Not my fault this was the mid-eighties, a void between creative post-punk electronica and house, when we, the youth, were fully aware the hit factories was mugging us off with a monotonous catalogue of samey bullshit. Finding good music prior to my own days was a must, and we hadn’t YouTube, we just had these treasure chests of hand-me-down records.
Everything about Treetop Flyers’ new album, Old Habitssuggests I should despise it, yet nothing could be further from the truth. The divine retrospection delivered the aforementioned fond memory; close your eyes and you can see the Ronco logo revolving at 33rpm on a mahogany music centre. My mind even sees the autochanger arm hinged aside. The only gender neutrality in the seventies was hair length; ladies played singles, men albums, big, hairy men with chest rugs you could lose a prawn cocktail in. And Old Habits could’ve nested between those long-players, not looking out of place.
This is Old Habits’ follow-up to 2018’s critically acclaimed eponymous album, which held a distinct American West Coast vibe, yet Old Habits moves away from this, guiding into the wonderous era of seventies British rock n roll pop; absorbing late mod soul, subtly hinting at psychedelia, but wallowing in Carnaby Street cool. Just like its influences, the Faces, Van Morrison, George Harrison, The Who, Ronnie Lane and Traffic, Treetop Flyers has produced a mellowed masterpiece now, which if it was recorded back then, would remain equally classic.
You will tingle akin to the saxophone riff of Gerry Rafferty’s Baker Street throughout this absolutely spellbinding journey, that much I guarantee. Treetop Flyers were formed in 2013 by frontman Reid Morrison, Laurie Sherman and Sam Beer, who met whilst playing in other projects as part of the West London folk scene. I went in blind, this is their fourth studio album, I was unaware of them, I came out the other side overwhelmed with a sense bliss.
From the off, Golden Hour, the opening track sets the scene; drumbeat retrospectively sublime, the piano and guitar combo marries, vocals enchantingly cool, and the tempo of each following tune blends into another; you’ll be tingling by the second tune, Dancing Figurines, hooked by the third.
If the horn-blowing Cool Your Jets is the most upbeat and beguiling, with essences of scooter culture, Castlewood Road calibrates the whole album and brings it to an apex. It’s dripping of Curtis Mayfield, or how you’d like a later Weller song. The theme is a street on Stoke Newington which the band’s lead guitarist Laurie Sherman lives, and the accompanying video was shot in Laurie’s house. “There have been many a British song about places where people lived or grew up and this is our kinda take on that,” explains Morrison. “We spent a lot of time there over the years writing and chatting, drinking coffee listening to records etc and Laurie actually mixed the new album (Old Habits) in that house too. So, I guess it’s a love song and thank you to those walls really.”
After a couple of listens I’m determine to dive deeper into this, and come out singing the songs; if you need me, I’ll be in a beige flowery shirt flowing across an oversized belt buckle, slouching in the corner of the front-room of a house party in 1976, next to the lava lamp, bellbottoms swishing, with headphones fit for Godzilla affixed, paying attention to nothing other than this absolutely gorgeous album.
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We’ve had a spate of comical albums coming in for review, what with Death of Guitar Pop, Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer and now this, which is by far the darkest, consequently most poignant. Songwriter and raconteur Scott Lavene returns this Friday (17th September) with Milk City Sweethearts, an album of new material…..
There’s intelligent and thought-provoking arch-beat poetry chatted here, an amphetamine-induced self-evaluation of an ordinary Essex boy, delivered passionately with a witty edge you cannot ignore. Something of an oddity at times, random prose seemingly slotted erratically fall into place with a running theme of this hopeless romantic, as the album progresses.
Behind a variation of backbeats, often being post-punk, as is Scott’s roots, yet fluctuating through new romantic electronica and eighties mod revival, are honest and blunt chronicles of love, loss, coming of age, in effect making for a memorable kind of album, border-crossing Ian Dury with Sleaford Mods; a Mike Skinner of The Streets in the Bowie or Jam era, or a psychedelic Gecko.
Humbly wry, the observations of his imprudent past come back to haunt him, as he retells heartfelt autobiography. The Ballad of Lynsey being the particularly touching example, telling of a potential everlasting love, but lasting only year due to differences, with the revealing chorus, “I choose amphetamines over you.”
If I’ve made this sound despondent and somewhat depressing, while yeah there is that, Scott’s witty charisma teeters atop at even the gloomiest synopsises with clever wordplay and metaphors. And besides, not every track is quite so melancholic. In fact, it begins very much with the aforementioned mod revival style. Upbeat opening tune, Nigel, is especially comical, expressing the strangeness of individual’s choice of “kicks.” Likewise, The First-Time reels off an amusing list of first experiences with the annotation, “one day there’ll be a last.” It’s all very Essex lad Talking Heads, Phil Daniels chatting on Blur’s Parklife, etc.
Art-pop carries over when the mod revival moves over for a new wave electronica feel as the album progresses, by the third tune, The Earth Don’t Spin, it’s very much more Stephan Tintin Duffy than Weller. For all the credentials and comparisons mentioned, there’s no cliché, everything here is uniquely composed and written originally, and Milk City Sweethearts isa listener, not the sort of long-player you can pause and pick up again, you’ll be impelled to digest it one sitting.
A master storyteller astutely aware of when and how to evoke the correct emotions, and find unusual thoughts to everyday scenarios. The farewell to deceased finale, Say Hello to Zeus, is as Bowie, simply inimitable and inducing. Whereas halfway through gives us the laugh-out-loud Walk Away is Essex humour at its very best.
Closest you’ll get to see him to here is Bath’s Komedia on the 12th December, for now this masterful album, out via Nothing Fancy Records, is interesting, to say the least, an essential item for enthusiasts of the quirky and unusual, making the world seem that much smaller, and amusing, for lonely hearts.
I’m quite happy, thank you, but loved it nonetheless, cos it ain’t always been that way. And that’s it, right there, I figure it’s not only my association Scott is from my motherland, but there’s something I think anyone with a heart will identify with here, and that’s something really rather special.
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If I was ever to be privileged to interview Bruce Springsteen, which I doubt I would be, I’d like to ask him of his thoughts now he’s 71, of penning a song called Growin’ Up at the tender age of 23. Similarly, I’d probe Pete Townshend, only a year young than the Boss, over lyrics of My Generation, which go, “hope I die before I get old!”
Yet, despite its title, I view My Generation to be less about a specific generation, and more about the attitudes of youth, and with this in mind, it could easily be placed into any subsequent generation. The Oasis cover aside, for this opens another Pandora’s Box I’m not willing to go down (I’ve a gig to review here,) it’s fair to say, akin to any song of the “mod” genre, it’s timeless.
To believe the “mod” is wrapped in sixties nostalgia is only partly factual, London’s emerging mod-girl sweetheart, Emily Capell sports a beehive hairstyle, but often sing-raps, like Kate Nash, and collaborates with Dreadzone. Similarly, the age demographic of Devizes-based mod cover band, The Roughcut Rebels spans generations, particularly now young Finley Trusler fronts it; still, he stands, belting out a vigorous and eloquent cover of My Generation.
It’s my reasoning for trekking to Trow-Vegas, keen to finally scrub “must see Finley fronting the Roughcuts” off my to-do-list. He got the job with two gigs before lockdown, thankfully bookings are returning for the band. For through his musical journey, started in the Devizes School boy band 98 Reasons, which branched off to duo Larkin with Sam Bishop, and still works with cousin, Harvey, as the Truzzy Boys, his cool demeanour stage presence and exceptional talent has to been celebrated. Query being, how would this fair with a proficient, yet older mod cover band?
The answer; very well indeed, thanks for asking. I jested with Fin outside the pub, asked him if he had to learn the songs senior to him, and he replied “not really.” This, and their dynamic performance, of course, proved my “mod is timeless” theory. In an explosive manner and highly entertaining show, they rocked Mortimer Street’s The Greyhound, and could do the same for any given venue.
Think of the eras the term encompasses, from The Beatles, Stones, Kinks and Spencer Davis through to The Jam and Purple Hearts, onto Ocean Colour Scene, The Stone Roses, to Britpop, Oasis and Blur, and modern times like Jake Bugg’s Lightning Bolt, The Roughcut Rebels got them all covered, and, loving every minute of it, they took the slight crowd with them.
To blend A Hard Day’s Night into a set with A Town Called Malice, swiftly move onto Park Life, or The Day We Caught The Train, and return with the Kingsmen’s Louie Louie, displays their ability and keenness to incorporate and fuse epochs, and they do it with certain ease. Grant Blackman’s expert drumming and John Burn’s bass played upfront gives it oomph, while Mark Slade adds the succulent and memorable rhythms, topped by Finely’s accomplished vocals, accompanying guitar or else showy tambourine timekeeping like a young Jagger giving it Jumpin’ Jack Flash. Roughcut, huh? Yeah, they are a cut far above the average cover band on the circuit.
As for the venue, The Greyhound, I like it, in the shadow of The Pump, a long-bar town pub unexpectedly clean and tidy, with hospitable staff and drinks cheap as chips. Without so much as a blackboard, it could’ve done with promoting its live music event, as a regular told me he was unaware of it and only popped in because he heard the music. Consequently, the crowd was slight, and all-male (ladies, if you want to bag yourself a drunken Trow-Vegas native in a cheap polo shirt, this place is for you) but through the excellence of the Rebel’s music, all were up dancing.
Here’s a great local covers band which will pull in an age-spanning crowd to your pub, and spur them to spend at your bar; because there’s an anthem or ten for all generations, and it’s lively, accomplished and entertaining.
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Wednesday, racing down to the newsagent on the corner on my Rayleigh Tomahawk, fifteen pee in sweaty palm. Pick up my Beano, six pence left for halfpenny sweets. The lady stood irritated behind the counter holding a small paper bag, as the kid front of the queue rubbed his chin pondering the crucial quandary. “You’ve got four pee left,” she’d calculate, while the boy finally opted for another flying saucer rather than a fruit salad chew.
If there’s something delightfully everyday about the subjects on Trowbridge’s Sitting Tenants lockdown album, A Kitchen Sink Drama, none more retrospectively thought-provoking than the fifth tune, the Newsagent, which encouraged the placement of this archived memory to my frontal cortex.
Unlike many a lockdown inspired project, this lives on the sunny side of the street, no matter how working-class notion of destitution. A semi-acoustic concept album, all from a shed in Trowbridge, as folk, as best pigeonholed, it’s acutely observational and mostly sentimentally mellow, perfect lazy Sunday afternoon music. Yet it never escorts you down a dark alley. Of people-watching in a back street pub, of a welcomed arrival of a letter from an old friend; subjects are ordinary, with an optimistic air of market town affairs. Even the album sleeve is a line drawing of Trowbridge town centre.
Released on 208 Records, usually reserved for garage mod-revival, still it retains something of that period in sound and particularly subject. Rob himself polished his skill fronting Swindon mod band Roundabout, some twenty-five years past. A band I do recall fondly. But even if you don’t, here is something indie-folky, with a taste of local excellence.
Revived since lockdown this garage-folk band’s fifth album was recorded in Rob’s garden shed, with only bassist Geoff Allwright, and using Ian Hunter’s lyrics. It’s beautifully peculiar, a mite psychedelic in as much as McCartney vaudeville moments on Sgt Pepper, engrossing as Nick Drake, quirky as Pentangle or The Pretty Things. It’s the Kinks jamming carefree on a Sunday, especially on the most upbeat Lincoln Green. It nods to Lionel Bart on the Austerity Street, John Martyn on The Tin Man, and incredibly on the captivating eleven-minute finale, Falling Backwards, where things do get acute, Ralph McTell.
Like a Ralph of Trowbridge, it’s like, why is this down the road but new to me? Why didn’t it post a leaflet through my letterbox instead of a pleading politician?
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It’s not just me, is it? Eighteen seconds into the Cult’s She Sells Sanctuary, you know, when it breaks, and you’re like, that’s it, right there. It matters not what youth culture you were into, at the time, or even now, it doesn’t give a hoot about your favoured genres, haircut, colour of anorak, age, gender or race, it just does it, and you, you’re like, as I said, that’s it, right there.
Something similar happens with this Cult Figures album Deritend, out last week; heck, if they haven’t even got a comparable name. Perhaps not so nostalgia-filled, as these are all originals, though the sound harks back to an era or yore, when cookies were in a biscuit barrel rather than your web browser, Tories were governed a demoness made from iron rather than a clown made of teddy bear stuffing, and a wet wipe was when your mum spat into a handkerchief and wiped it over your Space-Dust covered chops.
Mind, as happens when I’m sent files not numbered, it lists them alphabetically rather than in the running order, so the opening track is actually the penultimate Camping in the Rain, but it makes the perfect intro into the world of these London-based masters of retrospection. From its off, it’s, well, off, leaving me to reminisce about those classic post-punk new wave bands of the eighties. At times though, as it’s a mesh of this and reflective of the scooterist mod culture of same period, I’m thinking of the likes of the Jam and Merton Parkas too. Contemplate the musical differences are subtle, though worlds apart at the time, and this sits comfortably somewhere in-between.
To add to their perfection of authenticity, one must note this is the second album from Cult Figures, and is comprised of tracks written in their earlier incarnation between 1977 and 1980, just recorded more recently.
The real opening tune, Chicken Bones, has the same impact, something beguiling and anthemic, setting the way it’s going to go down. Donut Life, which follows, sounds like carefree pop, the Chords, for a comparison. In fact, as it progresses the guitar riffs of next tune, Lights Out, is sounding more pre-gothic, Joy Division, yet with a catchy whistle more akin to The Piranhas. Things get really poignant with Exile, almost dub Visage meets the Clash, and Omen extenuates the seriousness of a running theme.
“Deritend draws a line under the past,” they explain, “all eleven tracks composed and recorded since our 2016 comeback, simultaneously reflecting a maturity gained in 40 years of life experience, whilst still embracing the accessible three Ps of the early days; punk, pop and psychedelia.” The album’s title owes to a historic industrial area outside Birmingham’s centre, “a few miles from where Gary and I grew up.”
The mysterious iconic name was a bus route terminus and has a strong emotional connection to the band, “evoking the nervous excitement of those long rides into town on our way to Barbarellas. But it conveys so much more: Deritend is an album that reflects on the past, speculates on the future, but for the most part is fairly and squarely a comment on the lives we are living now.” They convey this well, for through its retrospection, subject matter, growing up with the dilapidation of a working-class industrial chip, could equally apply to then, or now.
A timeless piece of art within a captivating musical style which embraces the traditions of generation X, just curled up at an edge like an old poster on the congregated iron fence of a closed factory. I mean Silver Blades and White Noise crave you dive back into punk; there’s a definite Clash feel to the latter. As girl’s names for titles generally do, Julie-Anne is archetypical upbeat but themed of desire, and the sound of it is particularly challenging to pin down, there’s Weller there, but a drum roll you’d expect Annabella Lwin to surface from (of Bow Wow Wow if you need to, Google it, youngster!)
Most bizarre and experimental is the brilliantly executed talky sound of Concrete and Glass. Cast your mind back to 86, if poss, remember Jim’s tune, yeah? Driving Away From Home by It’s Immaterial, and you’re not far from the mark.
The aforementioned Camping in the Rain which could’ve been the opening track, is next, and it’s the epithet of all we’ve mentioned. This combination is not juxtaposed cumbersomely like a tribute act, rather the genuine article lost in time, and it, well, in a nutshell, absolutely rocks. The finale, Privilege is plentiful to summarise; Clash-styled punk rock, themed on the expectations of irritated propertyless youth, akin to Jimmy Cliff’s You Can Get It If You Really Want.
But, unless all you want is a zig-a-zig-ah and to spice up your life with commercialised bubble-gum pop, nothing here is oven-ready for criticism, just relish yourself in a bygone era, and rock.
The Lost Trades Live Stream their new album on Friday; tickets here
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If I waffle positively here, and yes, I do waffle, about retrospection and a trend in sounds trying to be authentically from a time of yore, this one doesn’t need to try. The Broadway Recording Sessions thrusts you rearward into the eighty’s mod revival scene, whether you want to go there or not.
Battersea trio, The Direct Hits may only be remembered by the connoisseur of mod, having one-shot at charting in ’82, when TV presenter Dan Treacy released their song, Modesty Blaise on his Whamm! imprint. The music press hailed this as not just another Jam, crash-bang-wallop mod revivalist tune, and their explosive live shows avowed them pioneers of a “Battersea Beat.”
Whamm were financially struggling to fund an album, so the band pooled their limited resources and booked the cheapest studio time they could find, Tooting’s Broadway Sounds. By the afternoon they had knocked out nine songs, the other three on this album were recorded a fortnight later. It would be two years later when they re-recorded some of these songs for their debut album “Blow Up.”
Now remastered, these lost recordings have surfaced finally, and, with warts and all, show the uncooked spirit of a hopeful mod garage band. I’ve had this playing for a few weeks since it’s late February release, and it heralds the hallmarks of a post-punk return to the basics, which sixties groups like The Kinks and The Small Faces mastered. To expect this yardstick is pushing it, but through all its rawness there’s some beguilingly adroit songs to make you wonder why they wasn’t as their namesake suggests, direct hits!
Perhaps it was that bit too retrospective for the progressive eighties. Because, elements capture neo-psychedelia, rather than soulful eighties mod assigned via The Spencer Davis Group and into bands like The Merton Parkas. That era where the beatnik style was teetering on influencing the pop sound, but Merseybeat was still riding the high ground. There’s a delicate balance here, avoiding things getting too cliché Mamas & Papas, these upbeat three-minute-heroes never fails to kick ass.
Consistently high-spirted and energetic garage sound, yet psychedelically enhanced; think if Syd Barrett’s days spent at Pink Floyd would’ve been spent with The Who instead, and you get the idea. There’s even a bike song, just like on Relics. Lyrically there’s unassuming stories with clear narratives and characters to challenge the Beatles.
A polished rerecording of a track from the album.
Overall, though, you’ve got twelve mind-blowing rarities which perfectly capture a raw moment of youthful optimism for an inspiring band, in an era where everyone felt encouraged to pick up an instrument and give it bash; and they’re good, really good. In a funny kind of way, I see similarities to the now; the forgone passing of DJ culture in a rave new world and tasteless manufactured pop, to an imminent inclination of online DIY indie, I see hopefuls taking to a guitar and giving it a go. Perhaps then, there’s no time like the present for this to resurface.
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We are the mods, we are the mods, we are, we are, okay, you get the gist. Imagine Kate Nash is Doctor Who’s assistant, and they tracked back to Carnaby Street in 1963. If she dressed and performed without raising suspicion that they’re time travellers, you’ve got a general picture of the fantastic Emily Capell.
On one hand, this is fab retrospective meddling, on the other it’s lively and fresh fun, with a beehive hairdo.
There’s nothing here not to like, unless you’re a ret-con rocker and if so, I’ll see you on Brighton beach, pal. All I ask is you aim for the face, so you don’t crease my suit.
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Chippenham folk singer-songwriter, M3G (because she likes a backward “E”) has a new single out tomorrow, Friday 19th December. Put your jingly bell cheesy tunes … Continue reading “Rooks; New Single From M3G”
The word “very,” rarely an adjective, as in “it happened in this very house,” or “this is very Terry Edwards,” but commonly worthlessly used as an adverb, as in “it’s very cold today,” or “this is the very best of Terry Edwards.” While the album simplifies it to the ambiguous “Very Terry Edwards,” it’s BandCamp page suggests, “The Very Best of Very Terry Edwards,” which though it’s exactly what it is, it’s also one adverb enough for the most lenient of proof-reader’s red line. Yet, if the usage of very is erm, very worthless, it is the only thing on this album which is.
The multi-instrumentalist, best known for trumpet, flugelhorn, saxophone, guitar and keys, marked his sixtieth birthday last September releasing this three-CD best-of box set, and while I should’ve mentioned it last month, between putting batteries in toys and stuffing myself with pigs in blankets things got tardy. Right now, though, I can think of no better outstanding project to kick off our music reviews for 2021. Reason only partly because it ticks all my personal favourite genre boxes, more so because of the range of said genres is far greater than run-of-the-mill best of compilations.
We need to assess Terry’s biography to understand the reason for this variety. Funky punk and second-gen ska most obvious, as from 1980 he was a founding member of Two-Tone signed band The Higsons, after graduating with a degree in music. But around that time Terry also produced and played on the Yeah Jazz’s debut album, of whom, despite the name, were particularly folk-rock.
Terry in 1984
From here the vastness of Terry’s repertoire blossoms, as session musician for a huge range of acts, from Madness to Nick Cave, PJ Harvey and The Jesus and Mary Chain to, particularly notable, The Blockheads. As well as his solo material, with his band The Scapegoats and a stint with dark punk-blues outfit Gallon Drunk, it’s understandable collating this in one reminiscent anthology is a mammoth task and a melting pot. Which is just what you’re getting for your money, a very, as the grammatical disorderly title suggests, worthy melting pot.
“When the earliest recording here was made the 18-year-old me couldn’t comprehend being 60,” Terry explained, “yet here I am presenting a triple album containing 60 titles recorded between 1979 and 2020, through thick and thin.” Therefore, it must be more tongue-in-cheek than I’d suspect Roger Daltrey’s notion now of My Generation’s lyrics that for the opening track he opted for The Higsons’ “We Will Never Grow Old.”
“You’d expect an overview of my career to have some odd bedfellows and more than its share of quirks and foibles,” he continued, “but it’s been compiled to flow musically rather than have a chronological narrative.”
That said, the first four tunes from his original band follow, with all their fervent rawness. Terry covered his tracks though, “I immediately break my own rules by starting with The Higsons’ earliest release and debut single, but redeem myself by following up with the most recent recordings; two ballads recorded with Paul Cuddeford (Ian Hunter, Holy Holy) in February 2020. There is more method than madness; groups of songs which follow a theme or genre are found together regardless of when they’re from.” Indeed, we’re then treated to three tunes in a matured, mellowing jazz and blues, the latter of which with the vocally perfected Erika Stucky.
Then we’re into rock with The Wolfhounds, and a guitar-twanging Christmas blues song with Robyn Hitchcock, plodding jazz with Knife & Fork, post-punk Big Joan, avant-garde jazz with Spleen and rockabilly styled New York New York. While mostly jazz-related, this first disc graduates through genres with finesse.
Terry is like Georgie Fame with a Mohican, but whatever avenue is explored, you can guarantee quality. The second CD starts with a bang, upbeat mod-jazz with The Scapegoats. There’re more known covers here, sublimely executed Herbie Hancock’s Watermelon Man, a superb solo rendition of The Cure’s Friday I’m in Love, as if Robert Smith wore a Fred Perry, and a hard-rock electronica version of Johnny Kidd’s Shakin all Over with the haunting vocals of Lisa Ronson. Even find an orchestral film score, and a piano solo of the knees-up capital’s favourite, May It’s Because I’m a Londoner.
Yet if both the quantity and quality on offer here is so vast to make me waffle, it doesn’t waiver for the final disc, rather it’s my favourite. A BBC session outtake of a jazzy Voodoo Chile, with altered title to “Child.” Dunno, can’t be a typo, the dedication to attributing to Hendrix’s masterpiece is no easy feat, lest it be known Terry manages it with awesomeness dexterity, with a saxophone!
If the last CD continues with on a jazz tip for two tunes, we’re transported to ska via John Holt’s Ali Baba by Lee Thompson’s Ska Orchestra and other sundry members of Madness, and Totally Wired by Terry’s “Ska All Stars,” and more ska-jazz with Rhoda Dakar. Post-punk follows, featuring The Nightingales with Vic Goddard, Snuff, Glen Matlock and Gallon Drunk. Perhaps my favourite parts being the shouty cover of The Human Leagues’ “Don’t you Want Me Baby,” by Serious Drinking, and the general dilapidation of seriousness with new wave tunes mirroring the unsubtlety of Ian Dury & The Blockheads.
Here’s a jam-packed box-set brimming with variety which flows suitably and makes a definitive portfolio of a particularly prolific and proficient musician. For many it’ll hold fond memories, for younger, who think Kate Nash created the cockney chat-rap, or jazz wasn’t the same until Jamie Cullum came along, it’s a history lesson they’ll never forget!
This 60th birthday, 60 track-strong celebration spans over four decades. A triple CD clamshell boxset with 24-page booklet, but more importantly they say, “Very Terry Edwards is a birthday present to himself as much as anything else,” giving it the impression you’re on a personal journey, like a child sitting on their grandpa’s lap while he recites memoirs, blinking exciting ones!
by Mick Brian With Sandcastles Productions marking its debut production with Charlie McGuire’s original play Glass House, the cast and crew behind this production are clearly anything but inexperienced as the piece delivers its thrills and emotional beats at every turn. What Glass House ultimately delivers is a play packed with fascinating questions about the nature of…
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Ruby, Ruby, Ruby! So good the Kaiser Chiefs wrote a song about her, or if not, at least brilliant enough to silence the most rowdy venue into an utter state of jawdropping awe! A video of a new tune, a metaphorical sea shanty, Crowned Lightbringer teasing us for a forthcoming EP, is out today….. A…
Wiltshire Music announces a new season for Autumn Winter: and the first under the new leadership of Daniel Clark, Artistic Director and Sarah Robertson, Executive Director…. Since first opening in 1997, Wiltshire Music Centre has been a musical hub, bringing the best in live performances to the area as well as providing a home for…
Yeah, I hear you! An update on our inaugural Wiltshire Music Awards is overdue. So my partner on this monumental project and the guy doing all the work while I take the credit, Eddie Prestidge of Wiltshire Music Events, has taken off his shoes and socks and provided a top ten shortlist for each category….drum…
If you’ve seen Jess Self performing at the Wharf Theatre, singing at the FullTone Festival or elsewhere I’m certain you’ll agree with us; Jess has that star quality which lights up the stage….. At 13 Jess won Vernon Kay’s Talent Nation, studied performing arts at Trowbridge’s Stagecoach and has appeared in many productions including Devizes…
It’s been a wonderful summer’s weekend, in which I endeavoured to at least poke my nose into the fabulous FullTone Festival, despite being invited to cover Devizes Scooter Rally, Trowbridge Festival and My Dad’s Bigger Than Your Dad festival in Swindon as well! I either need cloning technology or more people willing to write for…
If there’s been hearsay and ballyhoo about the date clash of two major but individually different events in Devizes this week, I hold my hand up for stirring the pot, yet try to attend both and find fair balance. But at the dawning of them, as magical as the FullTone Festival is, it cannot be…
Devizes annual orchestral festival, FullTone got underway yesterday afternoon with a showcase of local talent from Devizes Music Academy, and finalised Friday night with their recent musical There’s Something About Jamie…. If today the stage is filled with the sixty-plus piece FullTone Orchestra and guest singers, Friday night was all about Jamie ….or something about…
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Fashionably late for the party, this Oxford duo’s self-titled debut EP was released on White Label Records at the beginning of the month; what can I say for an excuse? Glad to catch up though, as Skates & Wagons are well worth it.
There’s retrospective grandeur on offer here; even down to the bracketed song titles, as was common at the time, of these four diligently composed tunes of sixties-fashioned mod psych-pop. It’s as if we’d not progressed from the era of The Kinks or Small Faces, The Spencer Davis Group and The Troggs at all. And to hear this makes one wonder if it was ever progress anyway.
Yeah, the dawn of the beatnik epoch, developed from the blues and soul inspired pop of Merseybeat is formulated, tried and tested, and anyone who mimics it is dependant on the only element left to ensure it’s respectable, the quality. Skates & Wagons set such a benchmark, taking a big chunk of the influence from this aforementioned style, but with a fresh approach rather than a shoddy and aged tribute, paling by comparison to its original.
We’ve seen this youthful blast of retrospection recently with the awesome blues detonation of Little Geneva, least to suggest this is more the pop of the fab decade, it also expands to classic electric rock, and is immediately beguiling via its wonderful musings. Skates & Wagons have long established themselves on the live circuit in Oxfordshire and beyond, but the EP is something precured over time like a fine wine. Initially they started working on it as far back as 2011, and completed it earlier in 2020, a testament to that old adage, you can’t rush art.
Opening borderline glam, Just Because you Can (Doesn’t Mean you Should) is possibly the most progressive, early Genesis fashioned, and vocally there’s harmony parallel to Gabriel and Collins. It’s as if Skates & Wagons regress through time as it goes on. Spin my Wheels is decidedly backdated in sound from the opening song, mid-Kinks period of their ‘66 album, Face-to-Face.
A nuanced approach to sixties-indebted structures, all four songs drip with instant fascination, as if you may’ve heard them on a classic radio show. The third tune is perhaps the most sublime, Tender (is the Night) is affectionate acoustic guitar-led emotive mellowness, to slip into a Who rock opera unnoticed. It’s an epic, seasonal-spanning romance themed masterpiece.
Yet, the final tune, Law As I Am True plays-out with the thump of pre-psychedelia sixties pop, but it’s got the kick of how The Jam re-enacted the sound, and it’s catchy because there’s subtle hints and swirls of the imminent next move to flower-power. Together here’s four memorable tunes which would have undoubtedly sailed to the Top of the Pops during that golden era, yet somehow completely original and uniquely fitting for the now.
If we’ve seen a relived trend with scooterists and mod culture recently, these guys are a hot contender to front such a movement. Though I caution them, there’s often a dispelling, or more, overlooked aspect with the current trend, in the interesting and natural progress to the late-sixties beatnik and flower-power movements, and while there’s nothing so “way-out” as Zappa on offer through Skates & Wagons, it does reflect those initial, optimistic changes of the mid-sixties. And in this notion, is what divides the duo from the bulk standard; yeah, fab, love it!
I’ll probably get told off by my mum for adding this photo, but I love it. My parents and friends at a dance in Shoreditch Town Hall, 1964. Dad captioned the bands were Screaming Lord Such and The Rockin’ Berries. How cool those mods looked!
Zip forward to 2004 and tired of taking my mum to see mod legend, Georgie Fame, my dad dropped us off in Camberley. It was an awesome night, he played a homage to Ray Charles who had passed that week, and told some great stories. One about Mitch Mitchell, the drummer in his band, the Blue Fames. After checking out an American guy in a club nearby their gig in 1966, Mitch ran back to tell the band how awesome he was, and was soon signed to The Jimi Hendrix Experience.
Georgie’s son played guitar at the event, did an amazing solo of Hendrix’s Red House. And of course, Mr Fame, aged sixty-one at the time and still looked cooler than the mods in this photo, played his plethora of hits, “Yeah Yeah,” “Do the Dog,” and “The Ballad of Bonnie & Clyde.” Though I don’t recall my personal favourite, “Somebody Stole my Thunder,” a mod classic which still gets people up today; I know, played at the Scooter Club’s family fun day.
With my mum, incessantly inquiring if I thought he’d remember a club in the East End he used to play at, regularly in my earlobe becoming somewhat irritating, after the gig and standing waiting for my Dad to pick us up, I noted Georgie gathered with just a handful of people by a car. “I don’t know!” I huffed, pointing the figure of this senior chap out to her, “why don’t you go ask him?!”
My mum quivered like a star-struck teenager, “oh no, I couldn’t possibly do that!”
“Ahk! He’s standing right there!!” But alas, anxiety got the better of her. It pushed into my mind, that we were all young and impressable once, we all idolised heroes. Yet, though I may shudder to recall some of my own lax, eighties idolisations, I have to admit, Georgie Fame would’ve been one cool one to follow, if I lived in that era.
But time is an illusion my friend, for just when you thought we’d seen the end of The Devizes Arts Festival for the year, they today whack us with the announcement Georgie Fame is coming to Devizes on Friday 8th November, playing a one off at the Corn Exchange. I knew this, Margaret whispered her secret some weeks ago, been aching to announce it since!
I will let you know when tickets are out, but this fantastic news. This Lancashire lad is a legend on the rhythm and blues scene, played alongside rock n roll heroes like Gene Vincent and Eddie Cochran, and an idol to mod/soul aficionados as one of the first British Caucasians to be influenced by ska. Whether you lived through the sixties or not, this is an absolute teaser to forthcoming Arts Festival events, and I thought I was done praising them for the year!
On my holibobs last week, local Geordie Britpop/mod musician Bill Green of trio Billy Green 3, (not to be confused with the British-Upper Canadian scout who saw victory at the Battle of Stoney Creek, naturally) messaged a YouTube link to his debut single, “I Should be Moved.” Promised to get on it this week, finally made it; procrastination rules, but glad I did.
Impartial towards Britpop, it’s not Marmite, I take it or leave it. In my defence, during the era rave was the thing, Madchester just a slice and not a principally progressive slice when compared with breakbeat. To shock horror of Oasis fans, I sauntered past them on the NME Stage at Glasto 94; never heard of them, never cared to; I was hunting hi-tech party vibes, not a Beatles tribute.
I try to decipher if my appreciation of the genre has matured, or if it’s the forceful sixties-mod element which, while present in Britpop generally, seems particularly prominent in Billy Green 3’s style. The words and riff echo a Britpop classic for catchiness, studio noise and tambourine intro and, especially, the chorus though, rings the simplicity of sixties mod. With the modern component of a perfectly placed sample, the circle is complete, Samuel L Jackson’s one-liner as Pulp Fiction’s Jules Winnfield completes it. “Sounds great, Bill,” I replied after a tinny listen on my phone’s speaker, because it does. Grown on me more, now I’ve got it on loud.
If anything, the magnitude of this slick three-minute ride spurs me bookmark Billy Green’s next local gig, though none listed yet; watch this space. Meanwhile I wanted to gage Billy about what the recording side equates to. “I assume it’s an original song,” I asked, “written by you?” and fired several other minor questions all at once, at least England was one-nil up…. at that point.
“First recording with the new project, me and a young lad called Harvey Schorah on drums, backing Vox and all-round vibes,” Bill replied. “I wrote the words and music, played guitar, bass and sang lead and backing vocals. Martin Spencer [The Badger Set, Potterne] produced. He’s a magician, essentially, he took the song in my head and made it come out of the speakers; just love this creative process in addition to the recent live shows.”
On what this will spur, Billy explained, “second song in mixing as we speak, and then hopefully will work out how to put them out as a mini EP.” Posted on their Facebook page today, we may get a listen to it, Lose Our Way, at 7pm.
Drafting my next question, for the review lead us onto football, I mouthed my thoughts that England are sitting back on a 1-0 and then, oh dear (or words to that effect!)
“Brilliant,” Billy added, “the review, not the football, they were poor on the first half apart from the penalty, still time though; being a Newcastle fan sometimes optimism is all you have!”
This fell appropriately onto my last question; does Bill think Newcastle had a scene during the Britpop era to rival Manchester?
“Prior to Britpop I think,” He suggested, “later 80s, there was a label called Woosh, my mate’s band, the Nivens were on there and ran on Flexi discs. There’s a retrospective out called C87 which was named after the NMEs C86, but a couple of decades later, they’re on there, so jangly guitar pop; the Nivens actually opened for the Smiths. Club nights at the Broken Doll and the Riverside, basically was my musical apprenticeship, introduced me to so many great bands. Moving into the 90s, there was more of a grunge scene with Cranes etc, now there is a resurgent drone scene with a hotel in Byker putting on Japanese noise artists, it’s a bit bonkers.”
“Bonkers could describe any current pop scene in the UK though,” I scoffed.
“Fair point,” Bill nodded, “Alan McGee doing his bit for guitar bands with the Creation23 label, and This Feeling are putting on some good nights. I work in London a bit, so have been to a few of their club nights. Met up with the now defunct the Shimmer Band from Bristol, who I thought were destined for great things. DMAs came out of that scene, from Australia, and are now heading festivals, think Shame came up through there, my mate’s band Free Money are booked in, they even did the last Lexus ad, which is a bit mad. I guess I’ll always be a fan of the get a group of mates together and play in a garage until someone notices you route.”
Well, that’s been the ethos for many a decade and never did the garage scene of the sixties any harm. Stuff the Simon Cowell karaoke TV show fiasco, Billy Green 3 is archaic in fashion, just enough to know the score, yet fledgling to fit into the burgeoning music scene here; I think “I Should be Moved,” puts a stamp on that; take a listen and decide for yourself.
So, yeah, broke my 2019 hibernation and ventured out last night. I know right, but Calne-based, Six O’clock Circus blasted an otherwise mild night at the Southgate with some passionately executed mod, punk and indie covers; right up my street and kicking down my door.
Loud and proud, regardless of the five-piece squashed into Devizes’ answer to the O2 arena, singing toward the wall, plus having gigged the afternoon in Boughton Gifford, and Friday evening with Devizes-based, Burbank, for a Big Yellow Bus fundraiser at the Bug & Spider, they never waned, pulling a fine ensemble of indie covers out of their bag, for the first half, but not before an introduction of the Kinks and Who.
Six O’clock Circus, started at nine o’clock, but despite poor punctuality of their namesake, and lack of clowns, I loved the starter, then it went a bit Britpop; Travis, Stereophonics, James and Shed Seven representations. Yet I nodded through with appreciation, their precision awarded even my non-favs with worthy magnitude. Though I personally like my indie served, as they did towards latter section of the first half, with Primal Scream and the Coral, and overall would favour more mod, of the Jam, which ended the first half, Six O’clock Circus delivered them all feverously, and favourably, with ardent appreciation of their influences.
A quieter night at this haven for live music allowed me to notice the cloudy cider tariff on the wooden beam, where at least one hairy hippy usually leans, obscuring the menu. So a double-whammy for me, securing a love for the Southgate I’d joyfully shout to the hills and back.
Undoubtedly, said cider played it’s part but I supposed the band tightened with every tune. A swap of instruments, promising a “seventies love-song,” they completed by knocking out a genuine “Pretty Vacant” before the break. It was clear Six 0’Clock Circus had no intentions of delivering us a ballad at all, neither attempt something experimental, as the second section banged in with The Buzzcocks’ classic, Ever Fallen in Love, and slipping nicely into London’s Burning by the Clash.
So, the evening’s entertainment leaves me now stamping a thoroughly deserved recommendation on Six O’clock Circus, perfect for the thirty-forty-fifty somethings function or pub circuit, and with that said, I’m off to make a bacon butty.
If last weekend in Devizes belonged to rockers, as the Sports Club shook by the awesome Saddleback Festival, it was small mercies for the Mods this Saturday as Devizes Scooter Club hosted a more moderately proportioned charity BBQ day, which wasn’t without equal summer fun and frolics.
The corner of Hillworth Road and Long Street became a haven for scooter enthusiasts, who’d travelled from far and wide, and local lovers of soul, reggae and ska who gathered outside the Conservative Club to raise some funds for the Devizes and District Opportunity Centre.
How much was raised at this tender morning moment (at the time of writing this on Sunday) is unconfirmed, majority of organisers I’d wager are taking a fully-earned rest, if not nursing a sore head!
I’ll let you know the grand total as soon as I get some feedback, but cake stall helper Paula told me she’d sold twice as many as last year’s family fun day, as husband Andy, whose task it was to man the barbeque looked vacantly into space through sheer tiredness. “I reckon he’ll be flipping burgers in his sleep,” I imagined.
The bar and garden packed out by lunchtime, extending to the car park, which converted into a showroom of lamberttas and vespas, with an added parts stall. As enthusiasts admired each other’s “hairdryers,” their families enjoyed the plethora of side stalls, the hall of bouncy things (castle and a Gladiators-styled battle arena) and the quality music.
Contrary to their name, Swindon’s Daybreakers turned up early afternoon. Thank heavens I figured, lesson learned that day; a cider breakfast does no good when attempting to operate a mixer. Thanks to Tony who danced around me doing all the technical wizardry and gave our musical show a voice.
By 2pm The Daybreakers were off, with no one willing to stop them they revved through a glut of benchmark early 80s pop, the likes of the Specials and Dexy, to sublime renditions of crusty rock, such as the Levellers. Wherever Cath, Gouldy and gang land there’s guaranteed to be a blinding show and today was no exception.
An awesome team effort blessed the event with an uncompromising community spirit. From face-painted kids guessing names of teddies, shooting footballs and munching cake, to adults estimating the weight of a ham, shooting down beers and munching burgers, a village fete atmosphere ensued with a retrospective, hedonistic angle, as opposed to being all vicars and teacakes on the lawn.
By late afternoon Chippenham duo, Blondie & Ska had pitched inside and began their dazzling show; a precise Blondie tribute meshed with other two-tone classics in a style as if Debbie Harry would’ve covered them. They made a fantastic sound for just a duo and relished every minute despite fatigue setting in with the punters, who tended to loiter outside to begin with.
With most exhausted from the day’s affairs already, it took a while for the show to push the audience into gear, hangers-on remained in the shadows of the garden to begin with, or those with families retired home with worn-out youngsters. I thought it a shame the club could’ve shown how we welcome acts as good as Blondie & Ska, but the thought abruptly ceased as the evening took hold and sweltering members graced that dance floor.
I offered a rock steady break for the band, but dancers yearned for some Northern Soul, so that’s what I did. Then Blondie & Ska continued and took us to into to the close. If you need more of these guys, or if you missed this thoroughly enjoyable show, I strongly advise you check out future gigs on their website. Closest to us, is The Wroughton Club on August 11th, The Royal Oak Corsham the day after, and the Gladstone Road Club in Chippenham on October 27th.
As for the Daybreakers, well they’re never to be missed. Catch them again for an afternoon in Devizes, when they’ll be at Vinyl Realm on August 4th, and check their Facebook page for an extensive gig guide.
Back to the BBQ Day though, it was in observing the quantity of people gathered, and their enjoyment of the day which gave me both enormous optimism for a very successful Scooter Rally next summer, and a pride in our small town’s Scooter Club, where everyone contributed a gallant effort to ensure a grand day out was had by all, most laboured until they dropped, notwithstanding, some money was raised for our preschool for children with disabilities and learning difficulties. So full steam ahead for the Scooter Club now, as tickets for a brilliant sounding, soultastic Motown-eske band, All That Soul, are now on sale at the Cons Club, Jeffersons and Vinyl Realm.
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