1,438 IDLEWILD, Zoe Graham, Oxford O2 Academy, Tuesday 14th April 2026

 

Lately it seems that whenever Celtic windswept indie survivors Idlewild crop up on my “Dance Card”, it’s usually attached to some event or other, or it’s eventful…! We’d caught them on their initial tour of best-for-ages new album, the eponymous “Idlewild”, last October in Bristol (gig 1,410), the occasion then being Rachel’s and my 20^th Wedding Anniversary (also the 20^th anniversary of our seeing them 3 times during our US West Coast honeymoon!). So when they announced a Spring 2026 10 date second leg of said tour scooping up gigs in hitherto unvisited towns and cities, what would that coincide with? Why, Rachel’s birthday of course! It’s actually tomorrow (15^th), but my dear lady wife tends to make a week of it, so…

An eventful evening started late; returning from the wilds of Oxfordshire after the daughter’s dance lesson and a painful attempt to fuel the car in Sainsburys, we set off late after dropping her off at grandmas, then endured a 20 minute wait to clear 4-way traffic roadworks! Bah! No surprise then that the Cowley Tesco car park was full on our arrival, but we jumped into a side street spot and hit the surprisingly quiet venue at ¼ to 8, being stopped for carrying pens into the venue (!!) but still snagging a near-front spot, house right. Support Zoe Graham was on prompt at 8; a slightly built girl with a make-up smear on the bridge of her nose which made her look vaguely Bajoran (!), she and her band delivered a very 80’s MTV/ FM So-Cal rock radio sounding set which at best had the expansive lazy shimmer of War On Drugs (“Shift This Feeling”), delved into more angular funk based stuff (“Evelin”) but overall was eminently listenable and header-edged than the wispy pop vignettes we’d heard from her previously. Sonically, it felt like she had designs to be a female Sam Fender, but she was an engaging and likeable presence, chatting about her mum playing Fanny Craddock in a video, and offering the initially-recalcitrant Oxford crowd a free personality test before best-of-set closer, the hooky manifesto number “Divine Female Energy”.

The place filled up but was still a couple of hundred below capacity (t’uh, Oxford…), but those present were buoyant and anticipatory, giving Idlewild a rowdy reception on their arrival at 5 past 9 following a crooner intro track. And they responded in kind; immediately into the pacy “You Held The World In Your Arms” and the anthemic blare of excellent newie “Like I Had Before”. Roddy, humble and understated as ever, then greeted the crowd, promising to, “pull up some old songs for you,” proving true to his word with a frantically groovy “When I Argue I See Shapes”, the growling opening of “Interview Music” building to a crescendo for an unexpected early highlight, then the moody build and call-and-response hook of “Roseability”, Roddy taking to the stage wings to allow his guitarists to provide the jumping jack visual focus, Rod Jones and Allan Stewart throwing shapes and hopping on and off the monitors with kinetic enthusiasm. Great start! 

Idlewild fall within the genre of 90’s/ 00s indie/ alt-rock, albeit differentiated from their contemporaries by their windswept, atmospheric sonic approach, evoking mountainous landscape vistas, and Roddy’s studiously oblique, oft-looping, contradictory and almost poetic lyricism (also resulting in some fairly long song titles!). On a good night, what they also are, however, is a magnificently kinetic and dynamic “live” band, much more coherent than the young bucks I first saw in 1998 (gig 369, an era which the NME famously described as sounding, “like a flight of stairs falling down a flight of stairs”) yet still retaining that thrilling, propulsive edge “live”. This was definitely one of those nights; following this brilliant opening salvo, the circular synth pattern and melancholy build of “Ends With Sunrise” was followed by the elegiac yet anthemic “Love Steals Us From Loneliness”, giving us a welcome breather; Roddy reminisced about their first Oxford gig (“the Point in 1998; it was 120 degrees!”) before the inclusive and soaring “American English”, and the plaintive piano intro to “El Capitan” led into a widescreen and soaring version. Then, however, it all got a bit tricky… 

A couple of blokes who had been shouting at guitarist Allan then decided to continue a loud conversation through “Capitan”, prompting Rachel to turn and shout, “will you SHUT the FUCK UP!!” into their bemused faces. After a second scolding from my incensed wife, I swapped places with her before it escalated, and in all honesty never heard another peep out of them! And the band played on; a thrillingly savage and visceral double of “Modern Way” and “Film For The Future” ended the set proper, then a 3 song encore capped with the tempo changing and sculpted “Remote Part” ended an outstanding performance, the band taking deserved bows. A quick list, then a magical mystery tour journey home which was still ½ hour shorter than the outward trip, daughter collected and home for 11.40. So, an “event”-ful evening, but the brilliant Idlewild performance will be our overarching memory. Another happy (almost) birthday gig for Rachel!

1,410 IDLEWILD, Humour, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 15th October 2025

 

October 2005; Rachel and I got married on the 1^st, then embarked on a 2-centre honeymoon in California. We’d already noticed that windswept and epic Scots indie lot Idlewild – whom we’d recently latched onto, thanks to their defining classic 2002 “The Remote Part” album and 2005’s follow-up, “Warnings/ Promises”, and had already seen “live” 3 times that year – were playing in San Francisco when we were in town, and had booked tix for that one (gig 677). However, we were also gratified to note, on subsequent arrival into Los Angeles, that they’d taken the same Big Sur route South, and were in town as well! So, a couple more Idlewild gigs in LA (an in-store Long Beach set, gig 679, and a drunken punk rock rampage, gig 681) made them our official “Honeymoon Soundtrack”! 20 years on virtually to the day (well, 3 days difference…) from that final LA gig, and it’s only fitting that Rachel and I are back again for more, this time more locally, as part of a tour for their new, 10^th, eponymous and likely best-since “W/P” release!

We sorted the kids out then headed off down a dusky M4, parking up in Trenchard and hitting a surprisingly quiet venue at 7.15, in plenty of time then to grab the usual house-right bit of barrier to lean on. The time wildly idled by until openers Humour took the stage at 8. Their opener eased in with some eerie and taut one-note post-punk/ gothy noise, before they brought the noise for the chorus. This set the tone for a dark, dramatic and caustic yet bludgeoning set of grungy noise, smothering some decent and apparently well-constructed material. A harder-rocking, My Vitriol-esque squalling number was introduced as ““Learning Greek”, and it’s about learning Greek…”; the older “Pure Misery” was a slower death march with the babbling vocalist (whom I wasn’t absolutely sure of throughout) speaking/ singing in tongues; and “Dirty Bread” was a more robust and, dare I say, tuneful cavalry charge. Overall, I’m glad I took some Anadin for a burgeoning headache before departure, as a lot of this felt like a pummelling with dirty noise, but there was enough resonant post-punk touches to suggest that under the murk, something is shining…

Chatted with a guy down the front (well, Rach did, mostly!), before Idlewild filed on, dead on 9, to cheers from the now busy Academy. The unmistakeable angular drumbeat of a deadpan understated “Roseability” kicked off proceedings, a softly spoken Roddy then welcoming us at its conclusion, giving a plug for the new album before a harder-edged, slightly pacier “Like I Had Before” became the first of a smattering of the new album material. The moody, slightly morose intro to oldie “Actually It’s Darkness” then ceded to its big yearning guitar-led choral hook, with both guitarists flanking Roddy’s centre stage position and jumping about like junior Zebedee’s (particularly Rod, far left, already hopping on and off monitors with gusto!), the vocalist already regularly wandering to the stage side to give them visual prominence.

“I think we’ve played here [in this venue] once before…” mused Roddy, some wag down the front (OK, me…!) replying with, “2005!” Roddy affirming with, “yes, 2005, “Warnings/ Promises” tour…” (yes indeed, gig 655!). “Little Discourage”’s dissonant opening hook and fist-pimping chorus was an early highlight; “Live In A Hiding Place”, a track I often overlook, was plaintive and really rather lovely, with shades of “Murmur”-era R.E.M., immediately juxtaposed by the more determined rock riffery of a strident “Ghost In The Arcade”; and the undulating and elegiac “Let Me Sleep” (“a hopeful song we wrote in our 20s!” according to Roddy) received a rare airing. “You’re a lovely bunch, [all] smiling back at me…” noted Roddy before a singalong and pretty bloody epic “American English”, then a blistering “I Am What I Am Not” (“our existential crisis anthem,” according to Roddy) blew the doors off and pre-empted the encore a little… Prior to which, a slightly cluttered “When I Argue I See Shapes” led into the slow burn intro of set closer “The Remote Part”, the climactic build topped off with the usual radio transmissions to close.

A great set, but the encore was pure punk rock, Roddy stating, “we’re going to play some fast ones!” before a brilliant, breathless set highlight “You Held The World In Your Arms” saw a slew of beach ball globes bounced around in the mosh! An unplanned, rampant and gabbling “Everyone Thinks That You’re So Fragile” preceded the savage slashing riffery of “Modern Way Of Letting Go”, then the discordant 4-alarm blare of “Film For The Future” rounded off another great Idlewild set which built up steam throughout, effervescently popping like a cork for the punk rock encore. A quick list, a quick exit and home by 11.30. 20 years on, we’re still going strong, and happily so are Idlewild, giving us a perfect Anniversary present!

1,259 IDLEWILD, Voka Gentle, London Kentish Town Forum, Saturday 17th December 2022

My 55^th and final gig of an utterly stellar 2022 gigging year (maybe even one of the best ever!), and we’re ending with quite the adventure…!

 Mine hosts were our old “live” favourites, wild, woolly and windswept Scots indie-poets and R.E.M. acolytes Idlewild, for the 15^th time of asking overall (including 3 times in a week in California in 2005, when they effectively formed the soundtrack to my and Rachel’s honeymoon!) but the first since their excellent “Shiiine On” showing in 2019 (gig 1,161). This one however sees them venturing South of the Border to deliver a start-to-finish rendition of their defining 2002 album “The Remote Part”; not only the album that moved them forward from their early fast-and-frantic “flight of stairs falling down a flight of stairs” sound into a more coherent, widescreen and literate oeuvre, but the one that (mainly thanks to the utterly brilliant leadoff single “You Held The World In Your Arms”) really put them firmly onto our gig radar. Lots to thank this album for, then, and high hopes for a performance tonight to do it justice…

 An Idlewild gig had been on Logan’s wish list for some time, so I was happy to fulfil his wish by taking him along to this one. Also joining us today for the ride was Pete “Monkey” Butler, so I picked the man up mid-afternoon, and we hit the road for an easy and chatty drive up to Osterley tube car park, just underneath the Heathrow flight path. Rammed on arrival (first time ever!), we however lucked into a parking spot after a short wait, then tubed over to Camden for the now traditional (and delicious!) Chinese street food pre-gig tea at Camden Lock. A short wander up to Kentish Town Forum saw us hit the venue 20 minutes before doors, then in early on the O2 priority (hooray!) with Logan and I bagsying a barrier spot, house left, Pete initially joining us then preferring a viewing spot further back for the bands. First up at 8 were support Voka Gentle, a 2 girl/ 2 bloke synth-based, white-suited combo, coaxing some very odd spaced-out sounds from their equipment. A weird melange of noises, this lot; experimental bleeps and bloops, echoey vocals, weird backwards off-kilter time signature drums and some occasional very lovely actually 3 part harmonies, but not really making much sense as a coherent whole. Bits of Webb Brothers psych-pop and Scissor Sisters disco falsetto as well; Logan very accurately likened one track to The Bee Gee’s “Stayin’ Alive”, then commented, “they sound like what you think drugs are going to be like!” Hmmm, note to self; play Love’s “Forever Changes” for Logan at some point… Anyway, back to Voka Gentle; verdict? Not sure…

 Luckily, next up was as close to a sure thing as you’re likely to get; keeping a full (sold out on the night?) and expectant crowd waiting until just after 9, the 7-piece Idlewild (the 5 core members being augmented by an extra keyboardist and violinist tonight) sauntered casually on to a 50’s crooner backing track, then burst into “You Held The World In Your Arms”, sounding sparklingly pure, polished and spot-on from the outset. “We’re playing “The Remote Part”, it came out 20 years ago…” murmured affable vocalist Roddy Woomble, close-cropped, perennially youthful and stylish in black sweater and white chinos, before an amphetamine-fast and frankly incendiary “Modern Way Of Letting Go” then ceded to an astonishing, spine-tingling “American English”, possibly the best I’ve ever heard this hallowed track, the sky-scraping hook sung back lustily by the devoted. What. A. Start!

 

“Anyone see us at do “The Remote Part” at Brixton Academy in 2002? [If so] thanks for the returning custom!” deadpanned an effusive Roddy, before the delicious violin embellishments of a tender “Live In A Hiding Place” saw them hit the album mid-point in remarkably short order, Roddy commenting, “we’re racing through this album! Luckily, we’re going to play lots of other songs…” An off kilter “Century After Century” was discordant yet delicious, “Stay The Same” (“one of our pop-punk numbers!”) was an unheralded and unexpected delight, then album closer “The Remote Part” eased in like a touching folky elegy, before breaking into a squalling noise-fest, the unstoppably kinetic guitarist Rod Jones channelling his inner Bob Mould to perfection. A brilliant rendition of a classic album, well deserving of the lengthy ovation.

 

That wasn’t it though; the glam stomp of newie “Dream Variations” led into a brilliantly savage yet singalong “Roseability”, then the angular, off kilter riff of “These Wooden Ideas” and a sweeping “El Capitan” with its haunting repetitive circular hook outro, again sung back by the masses, were highlights of set part 2, before the soaring “whoa-oh” harmonies and understated contemplation of “Love Steals Us From Loneliness” rounded off the set. A 4 song encore, “dialling it back to the 90’s,” as Roddy put it, kicked off with the repetitive terrace-chant hook of “Little Discourage”, a brilliantly taut and wiry “When I Argue I See Shapes” and the fire alarm blare of “Film For The Future” ultimately closing out a triumphant and quite majestic performance, Roddy leading the band off after profusely thanking the crowd for their support down the years, and the all-action, monitor-straddling jumping bean Rod unmooring his set-list for me, before heading off for a well-earned rest. Result!

 Again, that wasn’t it, though; the cross-town tube trek saw us back at Osterley just before midnight, however on arrival we discovered a fellow parker had crashed into the high kerbs at the top of the ramp and was blocking the only – and very narrow – access route whilst trying to replace a damaged and flat front wheel! D’oh! After scraping ice off our car and noting the lack of progress, we went back up to offer assistance (everybody else seemingly just stewing in their cars at this point!) and soon realised the guy was struggling with a continually slipping jack, so I solicited aid from fellow waiting motorists and ultimately ended up practically project managing the situation (yeah, “more ornament than use” little old me!), our team of (un?) willing helpers eventually clearing the blockage by ¼ to 1. Woah! So, we then hit the road, dropping Pete off and eventually hitting home at a bleary-eyed 20 past 2. Yikes! This was one for the books, though; a brilliant Idlewild performance, doing full justice to that classic “The Remote Part” album and then some, with a proper adventure thrown in at the end. What a way to end the gigging year! 

1,161 THE 2019 “SHIIINE ON” WEEKENDER, Various Venues at Butlins Resort, Minehead, Friday 15th – Sunday 17th November 2019

It’s November, we’ve just got back from sunning ourselves in foreign climes, so it must be time to Shiiine…! Our fourth year in a row down to Minehead’s Butlins holiday camp for the “Shiiine On” Festival, the annual celebration of the primarily UK Indie/ Dance 80’s and 90’s scene – which as ever plants it 50% in my Wheelhouse (I never “got” the concept of “Indie Dance”; gimme Indie Rock and I can dance my knees off to that!). And after a patchy bill in 2018, this year there were delights aplenty scattered liberally throughout this year’s itinerary, including some enticing “Shiiine On” debutants, and one real curveball in the shape of US alt-rock icon Bob Mould! Not so much that he didn’t fit right in – Sugar’s 1992 debut “Copper Blue” is a stone-cold classic of the era – but more so that he was the first original American artist to significantly feature on the “Shiiine On” bill. Who’s next; Superchunk? Buffalo Tom, even??!!

The “Core Four” of myself, Rachel, Rich and Matt booked early as usual, then were joined late on by another “Shiine On” debutant in the form of Ady Bevan, Butlins again being very accommodating in moving us to a 6-berth Silver Apartment at short notice. So Rich already had Ady in tow when he picked us up relatively early doors, a quick drive pitching us up in Minehead’s Tesco just before midday, meeting Matt and buying provisions and breakfast fixings before the traditional seafront fish and chips! One advantage of hitting town early was a very short queue to book in – result! So we squared away and chilled awhile in the chalet before wandering along to the Inn On the Green, where bands were already underway. The Inn itinerary this year featured a number of relatively unknown current bands, whose music thematically referenced the “Shiiine On” style and genres, so for starters we had NARCISSUS, a Mancunian bunch who played some initially decent baggy-influenced indie rock, but then descended into a morass of identikit guitar jangle and forgettable groove. A well-intentioned “leftie libtard disco song” was particularly poor, and we reckoned their presence on the bill was down to being mates of the organisers… Better was to come in ALFA 9, however, who chimed in with a Summery 60’s psychedelia number, their set then navigating between this baroque Byrdsian/ Love/ Buffalo Springfield groove, Kinks-ish knockabout pop and some slightly more countrified material which recalled The Thrills. The main driving feature throughout, however, were some very tight 2-part harmonies which overlaid every number, especially set highlight finale, a fast-slow “Dead Man”. Definitely an early highlight!

Some punter then hopped onstage and went all pseudo John Cooper Clarke on us, ranting about the gentrification of Manchester (or something… I was honestly paying scant attention), before introducing the much-lauded PSYENCE. They played a murkish mess of riff-heavy prog-psych noise, which immediately reminded me of Kasabian or The Music, neither being compliments! Some of their faster, more upbeat material was at best tolerable, but overall they were way too one-dimensional for me, and at worst a noisy old bag of shite! So with not much else of offer on this (admittedly) slow-burner of an opening day, we headed off back to the chalet for a cup of tea, returning about 6.30 for our first visit to the main Skyline arena and catching the last knockings of REVEREND AND THE MAKERS passable but slightly dull Britpoppy noise, with occasional ska inflections. However, they were plying their trade in front of a very large and enthusiastic first-day crowd, so clearly I’m missing something about this lot… One later number featured the Marmite ad jingle (!) which again got the crowd singing along – bizarre!

Anyway, we hung around, Rach and the boys getting the beers in, for CAST at 7.20. John Powers vowed to, “get this fucking place rocking!” and immediately set about it with a surprisingly upbeat “You’ve Got To Fly”, diverting into the slightly baggier Beatles-influenced Britpoppy jangle of “Sandstorm” and “Fine Time”. Much lower on the bill than their Sunday headline slot a couple of years back, I actually felt more kindly disposed to Cast this time, and their set was a vast improvement over that snooze-fest, whilst still featuring swathes of unenticing indie landfill and never approaching a Shed Seven-style revelation. The rockier and 60’s-inflected “Free Me”/ “I’m Alright” segue to close the set was ok, though.

We then stayed put for first-day headliners THE LIGHTNING SEEDS, Scouse legend Ian Broudie’s maverick band of popsters. I’d adored his previous band Care with former Wild Swans frontman Paul Simpson (Care in 1983 producing my Single Of The Year in the majestic “Flaming Sword”), and loved The Lightning Seeds’ debut slab of purest harmonic pop, “Pure” (that one only being beaten to 1989’’s SOTY honours by Pale Saints’ “Sight Of You”), although subsequent releases drifted lazily past in a soporific Summery haze. Still, I was looking forward to their set and wouldn’t have wished the subsequent techy glitches on anyone… opener “Marvellous” sounded anything but, with no guitar in the mix and Broudie getting visibly agitated about it, until the sound got sorted – well, sort of… Broudie did his best to engage the crowd (“are you all in a good mood? Me too!”), but their delicate and clean Britpop was falling flat, due to ongoing problems with the sound, and was often barely heard about the hubbub of a frankly disinterested and diminishing crowd. A more dynamic “Ready Or Not” showed signs of a revival, Broudie finally admitting, “we’ve got a few technical problems up here,” before diverting for an acoustic cover of Wreckless Eric’s “Whole Wide World” (“a song I used to listen to in Erics”). The penultimate “Pure” was nonetheless a moment of genuine pop brilliance, and a cheesy crowdpleasing singalong of “Three Lions” ended the set on a high note, although I guess Broudie (who had made no effort to disguise his frustrations between numbers) was then off to kick some asses…!

That was it for the main arena, and we decanted to Jaks for DEJA VEGA, as, it seemed, did most of the mainstage audience! It. Was. RAMMED!! DV were dark, pounding, fast-paced and aggressive in a bolshy 60’s Modish way (The Who on steroids?), every number ranting past in a superfast pace. I’d probably have enjoyed them under different circumstances, but decided instead to head off to the considerably less populated Centre Stage! SICE (“or, as I’ve acquired a double-barrelled name; Sice – open bracket – Boo Radleys!” quoth the man) joined us onstage for a fine set of acoustic strumalong versions of Boo Radleys classics. The Boos would go down great here but it’ll never happen, if main songwriter Martin Carr’s current stance is anything to go by, so Sice – these days a smiley bald and round chap in an ill-fitting black suit, who looked a top hat short of being The Fat Controller – will have to do. And the man did well, with “Wish I Was Skinny” (“from “Giant Steps”; one of those albums everybody loved but nobody bought!”) an ironic plangent delight, “Barney And Me” groovy, and “Lazarus” (“I don’t do the long intro – this is the 7 inch edit!”) my favourite of this set. The inevitable “Wake Up Boo” closed out a decent and fun set, Sice himself as entertaining as the music (“look how many pedals Swervedriver have got! I’ve got 2!”).

Doleful 90’s Shoegazers SWERVEDRIVER were indeed up next at 11.40; beloved by a number of my Boston rock friends, I’ve never “got” them, finding their stuff indistinct layers of noisy fuzz. The opener was suitably grumbly and growly, with Adam Franklin coming across like the curmudgeonly uncle of Shoegaze. The riff-heavy “Never Lose That Feeling”, next up, was better, but in any case I was only in for a Swervy sampler tonight, slipping back off to the  by-now much less busy Jaks at midnight. THE WOODENTOPS thankfully had a much less fiddly soundcheck than their previous “Shiiine On” appearance, but still kicked off 15 minutes late, the opener “Good Thing” chugging along respectably and building to an unexpectedly noisy climax, which when the chord changed into the denouement was quite splendid actually. The frantically strumalong psychobilly beat of “Love Train” and urgent “Get It On” followed, and initially at least, the ‘Tops, led by trilby wearing, wild eyed, gabbling vocalist Rolo McGinty, were showing signs of the form that made them one of the best “live” acts of that early 80’s era. It couldn’t last, so didn’t, the pace dropping considerably and the set gently clopping along, rather than frantically galloping, a pulsing and pulsating “Everything Breaks” and a lengthy closer “Move Me” notwithstanding. No “Plenty” (the band wanted to close with it in preference to “Move Me”, but Rolo overruled them!), but plenty of reasons to like this set, possibly their best since the reunion.

So I was late back into Centre Stage for my day one final act, THE WEDDING PRESENT (or, “semi legendary Wedding Present,” as vocalist David Gedge referred to them, hopefully ironically!). An early “Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft” sounded pretty good actually, the sound filled out by the chiming strumalong guitars, but then it tailed off considerably, a “You Should Always Keep In Touch With Your Friends” welcome but thin, and a cover of Magazine’s “A Song From Under The Floorboards” lacking all the bite and venomous snarl of the original. That was my problem with the Weddoes; everything seemed polite, understated, dull even, a late “Kennedy” notwithstanding. A band who ironically seem tethered to that mid 80s indie scene, but unlike so many contemporaries on this bill, sound just dated now.

Day 2 was re-designated “Get Rach to the Ping” day! My dear lady wife has, for her previous “Shiiine On”s, taken “Shiiine On” Saturday as an opportunity to really relax and have a complete skinful of booze; however the scheduling of her potential highlight at 1 a.m. tonight meant she had to remain largely compos mentis throughout the day, and I determined to help! A lazy morning and a Rach/ Big Man supplied brekky fry up set us up for the day, Matt and Rach going to the pool party and me and the boys heading off to the early-starting Inn On The Green. CALLOW YOUTH – aptly named as they all looked about 15! – were playing some riff-heavy and nasal grungy noise so we chilled outside in some welcome – albeit chilly – sun. I was up for a potential new band highlight next; a certain Mr. Tom Willecome had posted on the Bob Mould facebook group that any Bob fans at “Shiiine On” might like to check out BEDFORD FALLS, whilst neglecting to mention he was singer/ guitarist in said band! Nonetheless, a couple of tracks piqued my interest, so I was at the front of this sparsely attended venue for their 12.30 set. Opener “Ghost Of You” was a laze rock groove, channelled via Midway Still and Dinosaur Jr., “Congress Of Louts” recalled souped-up “Bandwagonesque”-era Teenage Fanclub, and “Wilmington” had the introspective yet rocky yearnings of a Nyack number! Hitting a lot of references for me then, and with a big chunky popcore sound and a strongarmed and energetic vocalist in Tom, it was also no surprise that this lot reminded me of local favourites Raze*Rebuild! “Nubuck” was a dynamic “Wagon”-like post-grunge gallop and the best thing I’d heard all weekend thus far, and I also liked Tom’s comment of, “I’m probably preaching to the converted, but… Fuck The Tories!” All in all, splendid stuff and a band I’d like to see again… and again…

Grabbed a chat with Tom afterwards, before heading back to the chalet for tea and chill, then back in the Inn for BLACK DOLDRUMS at 3. A bass/ drums 2-piece, their soundcheck sounded like an ocean liner docking (!) and the set was a droney, druggy, effects heavy psych-rock wall of noise. Impressive volume for a 2-piece, I’ll give them that, but the material was regimented and monotonous. Rich and I had a drink in “Hotshots” while the rest of the crew checked out Baby Bird in Centre Stage, and I got complimented for my vintage “Scars” t-shirt by the passing Jasmine Minks, who used to play with them in Scotland back in the early 80’s! Nice guys; shame that a clash with Bob Mould meant I wasn’t able to see their subsequent set… Shuttled between the dub stylings of arena-bound JAH WOBBLE and the trad yet decent Enemy-like indie rock of GAZELLE in the Inn, before heading into the arena again for TURIN BRAKES. A band who pretty much totally passed me by, their early “Lost In the Woods” (which was preceded by a lengthy monologue by the bassist!) was Irish folky-tinged and Waterboys-like, but was the best of an otherwise quiet, introspective and unobtrusive set of pastoral and Americana tinged stuff, with one totally out of place cacophonously noisy ½ number. Then back to the chalet with Rach – who was buoyant but the right side of drunk, plan working so far – then in to catch the last knockings of STEVE MASON’s early evening set in the main arena. His set was waaaay baggier than I expected from the former Beta Band man; his “Hi Fidelity” soundtrack song was the libidinous best of the set, although a high-energy closer, “So Simple”, actually ran it closer than you’d think. A nice message to leave us with as well; “don’t let the bastards grind you down – and fuck Boris Johnson!”

We then stayed arena-bound for one of the potential weekend highlights; IDLEWILD. Expansive and windswept Scottish indie staples and firm favourites in the Rose household and particularly of Rachel, they’d utterly slayed with a superb set earlier this year in Bristol, featuring cuts from almost-return-to-form new album “Interview Music”. T’was one of them that started proceedings tonight, the almost grungy growl of “Dream Variations”, before the lengthy and languid “Roseability” really kicked the set into gear, guitarist Rod Jones dashing around the stage like a demented puppy, whilst his vocalist Roddy Woomble looked casually on from the wings. “You Held The World In Your Arms”, grandiose and gorgeous, was an early highlight before “When I Argue I See Shapes” stunned with a lovely layered acapella mid-song break. The inevitable “American English”, late on, was its’ usual skyscrapingly massive self, prompting an audience singalong, then the hitherto taciturn Roddy introduced a ferocious, amped-up and punk rock “Modern Way” with a heartfelt tribute to Bob Mould, citing Husker Du as having made, “records we listened to as teenagers.” No shit, Sherlock… an initially hushed then crescendo-bound “Remote Part” concluded the best set so far – no doubt, Idlewild smashed it out of the park tonight!

We stayed in for headliners EMBRACE, who opened with easily their best number, the stately anthemic “All You Good Good People”. After that it was always going to go downhill, and for me did so verrrrry quickly, some dreary plodding indie landfill driving me out of the arena and onto a Costa chair at the back, to rest my by-now aching knees for the late evening ahead. Finally it was done, and we convened in the Inn On The Green with a disappointingly small post-arena crowd for a potential highlight at 10.15. Scots power-popsters ASTRID were a late 90’s fave of myself and Rach, their spritely and youthful 60’s influenced guitar-heavy pop tunes recalling not only a slew of Scots contemporaries (early Teenage Fanclub, BMX Bandits, even Swiss Family Orbison!) but also the US alt-pop likes of Velvet Crush and our beloved Gigolo Aunts. “We’re going to party with you like motherfuckers!” announced vocalist Willie Campbell, before launching into the irresistibly harmonic opener “Modes Of Transport”. From the off they were out to prove they’d not missed a beat since those 90’s days, and fired off the kind of upbeat, groovy and harmony-overlaid tuneage that turned us into sweaty dervishes back in the day, and at least got me bopping tonight. Furthermore, they rocked, as promised, like motherfuckers, bouncing kinetically around the small stage and prompting Rach to comment, “I don’t remember them being that rocking!” “High In the Morning” was still as Monkees-esque and catchy as all hell, and “Kitchen TV”, with it’s delicious descending guitar line, was the perfect closer to a cracking little set. Great to have them back!

Grabbed some words, compliments and pics with the boys before heading back in for Matt’s potential highlight THE POPGUNS. Hosts of a pretty good reunion show in London a few years back after a couple of 90’s Swindon Link Centre showings (one good, one less so), they certainly put the likes of last year’s Darling Buds and Primitives to shame with a tight, well played set of their effervescent girly pop fizz. An early “Someone You Love” was a loose-limbed danceathon, and whilst some mid-set numbers sounded a little subdued, polite even, and Wendy looked visibly older than that reunion show, she still could wrap her tonsils around a tune good and proper, some commanding vocal performances powering the later likes of “Bye Bye Baby” and a great “Waiting For The Winter”. A spot-on set, overall. Well done folks!

Time for fanboy Matt to have a pic with Wendy before we dashed off to Centre Stage, for the anticipated entrance of BOB MOULD, a shade before midnight. “How’s your weekend been? Good?” inquired an affable Bob before he kicked into gear with newie “From The War”, immediately cajoling a ferociously loud noise from his trusty electric guitar. Flying solo tonight, he attacked the set with his usual fierce intensity and swathes of guitar effect and noise, prompting Rach to shout in my ear early doors, “is that just Bob making ALL THAT NOISE??” It was, and therein lay the problem. I’ve been to enough Sugar and solo Bob shows to know the old boy always likes it loud, and perhaps in an attempt to make up for the size of this hall (3,000+ capacity in my estimation) he cranked it up even higher than usual. Unfortunately, this made vast tranches of the set a brutal assault, often requiring a verse and chorus to even identify the song, and it felt like we were enduring the set rather than enjoying it. There were highlights, of course – “See A Little Light” was audible and actually superb, “Sinners And Their Repentances” melancholy and doleful, and “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” irresistibly catchy even with the sound on full. But overall this felt like an opportunity missed, a relentless sonic assault at the expense of the songs. Sorry Bob…

However, the headliners were a perfect example of an opportunity grasped with both hands; we’d gotten a merry but coherent Rachel to 1 a.m., for headliners SULTANS OF PING. Early 90’s Fall-esque indie jokesters who morphed into Stooges-lite scuzz rockers (initially dropping their suffix “FC” then the “OF PING” altogether), tonight they were returned to their former flippant pomp, and vocalist Niall was a total star, throwing sneering rock star poses, regularly referring to the venue as, “Thefuckingbutlins,” admonishing the large and enthusiastic crowd to, “cut that shit out!” every time they started a, “Sultans! Sultans!” chant, then later deadpanning, “you know what, do what you like, I’m past caring…”. Still largely tune-free, they nonetheless went down an absolute storm, ramshackle terrace chant rants such as “Give Him A Ball And A Yard Of Grass”, “Stupid Kid” and the inevitable “Where’s My Jumper?” mass singalong and moshpit highlights. The perfect party band to end day 2, although I had one more task to perform… Following the Ping, Radio 6 DJ Steve Lamacq took the decks for a late night DJ set, and I had the opportunity to thank him for inviting myself and my then-11 year old son Logan onto his programme earlier this year for his “Dinosaur To Junior” feature. We’d mentioned Logan’s onstage Bowling For Soup shenanigans, so I was happy to share the pictures with an incredulous Mr. Lamacq, showing that I wasn’t at home to Billy Bullshit! Result! And we got Rach all the way to see The Ping too – double result!

Everyone was late in last night, so unsurprisingly we didn’t greet the final “Shiiine On” Sunday until nearly 11 a.m! Holding more promise for others in our party than myself – apparently the first time ever that the 80’s “Stourbridge Contingent”, namely Pop Will Eat Itself, Ned’s Atomic Dustbin and The Wonder Stuff, had been on the same bill together – today still had potential, all the more so due to it “starting” with a lunchtime carvery at The Old Ship Aground! We were joined by daytripper and old friend James Ward, back in the country from Dubai, and much catching up ensued on our walk over to The Ship (bumping into the Scotland-bound Astrid boys on the way out – safe journey gents!) for a superb – and copious! – meal. We then somehow managed to haul our food-full selves back into the arena, which even 5 minutes before the 3.20 entrance of THOUSAND YARD STARE was pretty much deserted – although that may have been down to the late-running Clone Roses in Centre Stage (Matt checked ‘em out and said they were a rubbish tribute – I mean, the vocalist could sing…). Damn shame! Still, there was a more respectable crowd as the band emerged, vocalist Stephen last, worriedly pacing the stage as if he’d forgotten where his car-keys were. Proponents of an ebullient frantic indie jangle style, often featuring the ubiquitous “funky Drummer” beat but cranked up to 100 mph, they’d impressed with their effervescent love of playing “live” at my first “Shiiine On” and also on a House Of Love support slot last year, and proceeded to do the same with an eye-catching and undulatingly melodic set. An early “Buttermouth” was terrific, bouncing along like a demented Spacehopper, before some considerably tougher and rockier new mid-set numbers, Stephen once again prowling the stage and eating an apple… odd! “Has everyone’s dinner gone down? [not ours yet, mate!] OK let’s start bouncing!” he announced before an almost ska-inflected “What’s Your Level”, then remarking, “we thought someone scored but it’s gone to VAR…” before set highlight “0-0 After Extra Time”. A thank you from Stephen, “for letting us be your amuse bouche!” preceded tumbling and clattering closer “Wideshire”, concluding another fine set. Thousand Yard Who? No longer!

Today was “Arena all the way” for the posse; I stuck around for the first few numbers of JESUS JONES, next up at 4.30. Indie electro-pop dance veterans (hey, they were “fusion” before “fusion” became trendy, this lot!), they were, incredulously, appearing at “Shiiine On” off the back of a tour celebrating the 30^th Anniversary of their defining debut “Liquidizer”. I say, “incredulously”, as main-man, the rakish, long-haired and energetic Mike Edwards, barely looked 30 at all! They kicked into a hard-edged “Move Mountains”, the undulating chug of “Never Enough” (my favourite JJ number) following in short order, accompanied by impressively lurid, if a little migraine inducing, day-glo graphics projected onto the back screen. A catchy “Bring It On Down” (thankfully not the recently re-recorded acid house 9 minute version!) was however my last taste of Jesus Jones, as, half an hour into their set, I repaired to Hotshots, finding a single chair in front of a screen and watching the Brazilian Grand Prix! Glad I am that I did; not only was it (by today’s standards) a thoroughly entertaining GP with some completely mad closing lap shenanigans, but it also meant I missed Pop Will Eat Itself! Result!

So, I emerged for NEDS ATOMIC DUSTBIN’s 7.20 set, heralded by the biggest crowd of the weekend to date. “Shiiine On” newcomers, they set about making an impression with an energetic showing of their moshpit-friendly Midlands ramshackle fraggle groove. Never been my cup of tea, the Neds, and I found the material simplistic and repetitive, the sound bass-heavy and the guitar an odd hollow echo in the background of the mix, but the “Shiiine On” massive lapped them up, so what do I know, right? Anyway, I also nipped back to the chalet to take some medication during their set, returning as the terrace chant of “Kill! Your! Television…” resonated not only around the arena, but the whole damn site!

No matter, the main event was to come in the shape of headliners THE WONDER STUFF. A band I’m increasingly enjoying “live”, finding their current iteration possibly the best sounding of all their myriad line-ups, and enjoying the relaxed bonhomie and flippant repartee of the more, erm, mature Miles Hunt, they’d been Top Band of a stellar 2016 “Shiiine On” bill and were only pipped for top honours in 2017 by an astonishing Peter Hook set. Great things expected, then, and from note one we were not to be disappointed; Miles greeted us with a buoyant, “Oi! Oi! Butlins!”, then opener “Mission Drive” snuck in before building to a stellar circular fiddle riff (do they call them “riffs” if they’re played on the violin?) from Erica Nockalls. “We have a new album out – it’s fucking outstanding – but we’re not going to play anything from it!” announced Miles to cheers, “come see us on tour for that!” Will do, Milo!

Clever move that, actually, as the perfect festival headline set ensued, hit after hit from The Wonder Stuff’s stellar 80’s/90’s catalogue raining down on us, songs ingrained in the consciousnesses of all present. “On The Ropes” sounded huge, thankfully bereft of the feedback issues it’s been plagued with here in the past, “Here Comes Everyone” was epic and building to a huge anthemic hook, and the folky fiddle-led “Golden Green” was preceded by Miles asking, “anyone in the mood for a hoe-down? A definite “no” from over there [in the crowd]… off you fuck, pal!” A poignant “Piece Of Sky” was dedicated to the dearly departed, before the set built up a proper head of steam, with “Wish Away”, “Unbearable” and a frankly thunderous “Ten Trenches Deep” tearing the crowd a collective new one. A surprise encore appearance for the flippant “Radio Ass Kiss” preceded the final number, early Stuffies number “A Song Without An End”. “Let this be a festival without an end,” announced Miles, and after this, the Set Of The Weekend by some distance, we all felt that way.

End though it did, and after a quick sojourn into Centre Stage for some bolshy mod posturing from TIME FOR ACTION, it was time for bed… for some of us at least! Matt, Rach and I turned in for just before midnight, an 8.30 start getting us all offsite just after 10 and home for 1, wiped out but happy. Another great “Shiiine On” weekend with excellent bands, fine relaxing atmosphere and great company, the addition of Ady and (for Sunday only) James to our little group adding to the general bonhomie. Four years in a row now, and this looks like being a regular fixture for some time to come. Long may we all “Shiiine On”!

1,132 IDLEWILD, Blackaby, Bristol University Anson Rooms, Saturday 20th April 2019

 

 

Always happy to tack on a late addition to the Spring Dance Card, especially given that this one was the return - after a 4-year absence, which itself followed a near-7 year hiatus! - of live faves Idlewild! Odd to consider, then, that this would be only the 3rd time in 11 years that I would be availing myself of their widescreen, windswept and cerebral REM-like indie pop, given that Rach and I had seen them on multiple occasions (13 for me, maybe more for my dear lady wife and avid Woomble-fan), including 3 times on our 2005 California honeymoon! When these dates were announced, as late as mid-Feb, it was also very much a case of "tix first, logistics later", as not only was our closest gig at the horrible-to-park-at Anson Rooms, but it also fell on a busy Easter Weekend, when Rach was already out in Bristol on Friday... and Saturday afternoon!

So I set off, shorts-clad on an unseasonably hot Easter Saturday, Rach having stayed overnight in Bath with our friend Kate after Friday’s PWEI/Neds double-header at the O2, then having travelled back down to Bristol earlier today to meet up with friends Laura and Lizzie for an afternoon show and pre-gig food and beverages. Leaving early meant a decent parking spot just along the main road from the venue, a short wait for doors at 7, then an opportunity to catch up with a svelte and affable Idlewild drummer Colin, on the merch stand early doors, reminiscing about previous encounters and particularly their final, frenzied and drunken LA show and their support that night Mutilated Mannequins, easily the worst band I've ever - ever! - seen! Grabbed a space in the barrier in the very quiet hall, chatting to some fellow front-rowers, including Julian, whom I've bumped into at Nada Surf gigs. Some muso chat with this fellow veteran rock aficionado passed the time until Rach arrived, electing to watch the support with the girls from their bar table, resting up after 2 moshpits last night. That's my girl! Support Blackaby were on for 8, a 3 piece with a Carlos Santana lookalike bassist and a tousled vocalist with a reedy, lilting voice somewhere between Jeff Buckley and Dean Wareham. They weren't bad, their varied-tempo material having some good melodic choruses and a hazy, early 70’s California soft rock feel, but much of it was either unremarkable or a little discordant, off-key even, particularly during their earlier numbers. Their last 2 songs - a cover of something I didn't recognise, and a Sparks-ish closer which also nicked the descending verse refrain from the Gigolo Aunts' " Weird Sister" - were their most upbeat and best, and they at least got through their short set without any equipment failures - unlike last night, apparently!

Rach joined us on the barriers as the place filled up; nowhere near a sell-out, though, and plenty of space down the front to dance throughout. OK, I get that students are off for Easter, but it still felt a poor turnout. C'mon Bristol, sort it out! Still, it didn't seem to bother Idlewild, as from the outset, these Scottish veterans were on it; new number "Dream Variations" was a robust glam stomp opener with some lovely 3 part harmonies and some effective mirror-ball lighting, adding to its' twinkling feel, then an extended "Roseability" was utterly superb, lengthy guitar intros and outros adding to its' drama and power, and giving guitarist Rod Jones scope to jump about energetically and Zebedee-like (as he was to do throughout). Vocalist Roddy Woomble, be-suited and clean-shaven and shorn, looked annoyingly young, harking back to that skinny gauche young boy of 1998, impervious to the ravages of time, and often delivered his conversational vocals standing sideways-on to the audience, thence retreating to the wings, content to watch his bandmates take the limelight and deliver the rock. And they duly did, the set beautifully chosen (partly the consequence of an Instagram poll, according to a fellow punter) and representing their entire canon, and played with crisp, economical yet punchy style and substance, and the relaxed insouciance of experience.

Roddy was also in relaxed fooling, commenting that upbeat newie "There's A Place For Everything" was, "about how no-one likes to do the washing(!)" and introducing "Readers And Writers" as being from the oft-overlooked "Post Electric Blues" album, then, following audience cheers, deadpanning, "popular in Bristol but nowhere else!" The candyfloss fairground melody of "Same Things Twice" was a mid-set highlight, before they brought out the really big guns; "American English" was a rousing and soaring sing-along, almost matched by "Love Steals Us From Loneliness" for its’ epic, widescreen feel, the splendid "When I Argue I See Shapes" featured a lovely looped acapella break, and "El Capitan" was probably my highlight of the night, stark and towering as the mountain itself. Some oldies for the encore too, a by-now jacketless Roddy (displaying a jazzy patterned shirt and quipping, "we need to wear snazzy shirts - we're at that age!") introducing a frantic, garbled "Everyone Thinks That You're So Fragile" as "late 90's punk rock", then profusely thanking all and sundry before the rampant closer "Modern Way Of Letting Go".

So great stuff overall, from a band who may be a couple of albums past their absolute finest recorded output but who still know how to put on a superb "live" performance. Set-list, farewells then gathered the girls (including a now wiped-out Rach, 3 moshpits in a shade over 24 hours!) for an unimpeded drive home. A late addition maybe, but always welcome and a lucky - and rather superb - 13 from Idlewild!

943 IDLEWILD, Sorren McLean, London The Roundhouse, Friday 13th March 2015

A welcome return to gigging action for perennial “live” favourites Idlewild; my 12^th time overall tonight, but the first for something approaching 7 years! In the interim, they’d released a low-key album then taken a sabbatical to pursue solo projects (one rather unpleasant upshot of this being a campaign by some so-called “fans” to boycott said solo endeavours to force Idlewild to reform… hmm…). However, they’re now back with a new album, “Everything Ever Written”, which adds a noted folkier dimension to Idlewild’s chameleonic, often windswept, often frantic, but always dramatic and intriguing REM-like alt-rock. Unfortunately, Camden’s rejuvenated Roundhouse was the closest venue an accompanying tour came to the ‘don, so it meant some logistical rejigging for Idlewild uber-fan Rachel and myself!

So, I was “Harry Half-Day”, Grandma had the kids, and I picked Rach up after her course, hitting the road at 4 and electing to park up at the Bush and tube it over. Hit the quiet early doors Roundhouse at 7.30, Rach immediately snapping up merch before we headed into the wide main space of this ornate and beautifully appointed former engine shed. Sorren McLean opened the show at 8 to a ripple of interest from a filling crowd; he and his 5-piece band played some understated, initially atmospheric slow burn stuff, which, combined with McLean’s low, conversational vocals, recalled “Graceland”-era Paul Simon, or a Death Cab For Cutie hailing from the Outer Hebrides rather than Silicon Valley. It veered into fiddly diddly finger picking trad rootsy folk a bit too much for my taste, but ‘twas an ok support overall.

The place filled up dramatically afterwards, full of really tall blokes too, and it was proper old school rammed for this sell-out show, even from our ¾ back central vantage point, as Idlewild took the stage prompt at 9 to searchlights and moody intro music. Opener “Nothing I Can Do About It”, from the new album, crept in almost apologetically, before suddenly and impressively roaring into life. Vocalist Roddy Woomble announced, “there’s a lot of you here tonight, where have you all been?” before a rambunctious “You Held The World In Your Arms”, but it took the “Murmur”-era REM backwards guitar riff of oldie “Little Discourage”, fourth number in, to really kick the gig into gear, a mad moshpit breaking out.

Idlewild clearly had a plan for this evening and executed it to perfection. The gig was the epitome of “perfectly paced”, swapping between more low-key, often folk-tinged new album material and the more familiar oldies, fast and slow, breathless and restive, light and shade, showcasing their entire canon of work and their versatility. So we varied from the slow-burn, plaintive “Every Little Thing Means Trust”, Roddy bolting on a fat acoustic for this one, then a searing “Roseability” (prior to which, some moron reeking of beer took exception to the fact I wouldn’t – couldn’t – move to let him through, another fellow punter remarking to me, “you’ve got the patience of a saint, mate,” after the idiot had manhandled me then backed off, still complaining), a touching yet jumpabout “Live In A Hiding Place” (causing guitarist Rod Jones to warn, “be careful when you jump around – we’re not getting any younger!), then a hushed “Quiet Crown” segueing into the frantic new wave bleeps and yelps of oldie but goldie “Captain”.

A slow, towering “Love Steals Us From Loneliness” was great, but merely a prelude, as an anthemic, singalong “American English” really raised the roof, the crowd filling the denouement as Roddy paused. Superb stuff, but that was even topped by an utterly brilliant “El Capitan”, soaring and haunting in equal measure, Roddy taking the time to savour the moment. An encore of a stripped back “Too Long Awake” was also stunning, the line “I’ve been too long away” being totally apt, before a frantic “Modern Way” and the slow-burn of “The Remote Part”, building to an impressive crescendo, finished a superb set.

Unfortunately, egress was slow as we inched out of the venue (a few yards behind comedian Josh Widdecombe!), then an hour tube back to the car and roadworks diverting us off the M4 at Reading meant an old-school London home time of 1.30 am. Yikes! However, it was worth it to see the rejuvenated Idlewild – they’re back, and on tonight’s evidence quite possibly as good as they’ve ever been!