Tag: The Vic Swindon

Tidy: Talk in Code at The Vic with Riviera Arcade and Flora Flora

It was only ever supposed to be a single launch gig but it could’ve been for a gold-crested gatefold triple LP, because Talk in Code were larging it last night at their hometown premier venue, Swindon’s Victoria. The crowd was ecstatic and the atmosphere was highly flammable…..strike a light!

If witnessing a great band on their own turf adds a communal elevation to the thrill of seeing them at all, Talk in Code certainly pulled out all the stops, even if the je-ne-sais quoi of these masters of indie-pop perform with sublime quality anywhere they happen to appear.

If this crossing the friend barrier themed quintessential grower, More Than Friends sits perfectly into their eighties vibe discography, we were leaked forthcoming singles might venture somewhere slightly different, but right here, now, at The Vic, Talk in Code was rewarded equal rapturous praise in throwing it out there as they were marching triumphantly through their beloved anthems.

Tunes which, like the best memorable pop, have universal and timeless appeal. At a Talk in Code gig you could mute the sound and still comprehend that the individual takes what they want from their style by observing the diversity of the demographic present. Here, this tight group of musicians evoke memories of everything gorgeous about eighties pop from Ah-Ha to Simple Minds, for me. One generation younger, especially when they backtracked to Oxygen, might wallow in nineties indie, and likewise youth will recognise their own contemporary influences.

If homeliness provides confidence to experiment, we were treated to something I’ve never seen Talk in Code do before; as the band Twix breaked, dynamic Adidas- sponsored frontman Chris Stevens proved he was no one trick pony, and blessed the Vic with an immaculate acoustic number, an original he called We Remain.

If appreciation was a pair of knickers, Talk in Code would have a visible panty line, as devotee “Talkers” in blue sunglasses and merch amassed between Vic regulars, equally relishing their vibrant, danceable and electric hoedown! And all took home a CD embossed goodie bag akin to a toddler’s birthday party, save a slice of squashed sponge cake!

Yet if there’s an honourable family-fashioned ambience surrounding this band, where Talkers would follow them to the four corners of the globe, else create Lego fan-videos or shower them with deserved fondness, the mood for a quality evening was pre-set by two awesome support acts TiC cherrypicked.

Gloucestershire soloist, songwriter and model Flora Flora opened the gig with acoustic splendour. New to me, I’m now keenly following her socials. Not because she took control of my phone from my intoxicated sausage fingers to ensure I did, though she did, but because I’ve since come to realise there’s subsequent levels to her talent than the perfection of her rocking performance last night!

An inspiring Gen Z Swifty wordsmith, crafting evocative songs praised and played by our hero James Threlfall on BBC Introducing. A new one drops on streaming platforms on 29th August but is available now on Bandcamp, Need to Say; it’s far more ethereal than Flora Flora’s edgier performance, and you’ll be foolish not to bookmark it as a favourite; fill your ankle-length boots.

Penultimate act, Bristol-Swindon longstanding five-piece rockers Riviera Arcade, I must confess, I preconceived to be a fair, hard rock band; they certainly came out like one. It only took near to the completion of the first song for me to come to complex reasoning why they’re punching well above that weight. Multi-layered precision with captivating guitar riffs set me contemplating subtle nods to eighties mod or punk, sometimes skanking, but still, it heralded heavier rock. They’ve a 2022 album Gone By Ten on stream, so you can hear what I’m waffling about.

An interesting and certainly unique style which, while I was thinking The Police or Costello, they finalised their set of beguiling originals with an apt and superbly delivered cover of The Stones’ Paint it Black, a perfect summary to their ethos. I returned home as a newfound fan, a bit wobbly on my feet and Notra-Dame bells ringing in my ears fan, but deffo a fan!

Talk in Code was officially on the best form I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness, but it was the combination of acts, venue and atmosphere which famed this fantastic night too; The Vic is renowned for doing so, historically. Owner Darren Simons assured me, though the venue is up for grabs, it’s only going to someone prepared to continue in his shoes, so this flagship to Wiltshire live music should thankfully continue to reign; dodge magic roundabouts and onwards to The Shuffle!

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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 ‘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 café 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 I’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 Fry’s gorgeous experimental jazz-come-psychedelia at the Beehive, and Liddington Hill who’ve created their own subgenre, Celtic-grunge, and were currently giving it what’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 I’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 ‘Talkers’ awaiting the headliner, and cheesemakers from Calne, real ones! It’s fine, off territory, no dispute, love The Real Cheesemakers’ 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. It’d be fifteen minutes wait at the chippy, I was content, it’s opposite the Victoria, Swindon’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 I’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 you’ll know if indie-pop virtuosos Talk In Code are there, so am I. It’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, you’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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I Shuffled in Swindon, and I Liked It!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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