The Maccabees went out in a blaze of glory on Saturday night. At a packed Alexandra Palace, the venue shook to the rafters as the group said farewell and goodbye. On a balmy July evening, this was a roller-coaster of emotions.
Two bands; Idles and the Mystery Jets provided the warm up. In between tracks, Mystery Jets' frontman Blaine Harrison and guitarist William Rees - still wearing a winter jacket - took time to share their affection: "the Maccabees have inspired us so much" announced Blaine. This loving gesture was reciprocated in turn by singer Orlando Weeks during the headline set: "we'd like to thank the Mystery Jets, they've been the band we've always looked up to".
And what a joyous, heart-wrenching, sweaty and euphoric headline set it was. Guitarist Felix White's comments to Beats 1 beforehand summed up the general feeling around the gig: "Just because of the fact that it’s the end, it’s alleviated any of the previous tension that used to be around us and around gigs, because we always used to be trying to move somewhere or get better. These have just been a ‘let’s just celebrate how great we are’".
Celebrating by playing an array of songs from all four of their highly acclaimed albums, the Maccabees were in scintillating form. Delving into songs from the Wall of Arms catalogue, and scooping out tracks like Precious Time and Lego from their debut album Colour It In, this was a dream of a set-list.
This set spiralled at frantic pace from the rip-roaring to the delicate and bittersweet. Contrast the entire crowd bouncing up and down in unison to Can You Give It; to Hugo White's deft and touching vocals on Silence. Orlando did waver at times; stepping back from the microphone choked with emotion following a barnstorming rendition of Latchmere. Unable to speak, he bumped his chest hard with his fists, with stirring rabble-rousing cheers in reply.
There was also a super bass-heavy version of Forever I've Known, which elevated the show into the stratosphere. The celestial Grew Up at Midnight followed; before the perfect singalong finale Something Like Happiness. With the Mystery Jets re-appearing alongside Henry Harrison and the lesser spotted Jack Penate on guest vocals, I'll admit I was completely overwhelmed and I did have something in my eye. And no, it wasn't because of the vast amount of confetti raining down from above.
The encore featured a cameo from Jamie T on a lightning fast Marks to Prove It. There after was First Love, the song which poignantly made me fall in love with the band in the first place. At this point, I didn't want the set to end.
Felix was right; 'let’s just celebrate how great we are’ was the prevailing theme here. A huge "Thank you!" was written on a screen above them. When the band stepped forward to take their final almighty applause, there followed a moving crowd rendition of the chorus of Something Like Happiness. The band stood and watched on, breathless and speechless. And that moment will stay with me forever.
Sunday, 2 July 2017
Monday, 13 February 2017
Brushing your teeth
I don't know how I feel right now, in early February 2017.
A thought spilled over me while I was brushing my teeth before bed that I started the year with no parents. The two people who invested so much time, effort and love into me are gone. The two people who I adored, and whose advice I sought daily are no longer present. The two people who made me, and who wanted so much for me to succeed, are now just a series of memories.
I have lost my two biggest supporters. I looked in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, and thought: what on earth do I do now?
The person looking back at me is someone who I haven't seen before. Looking tired, drawn, lethargic. Shoulders sagging and slouched. What were those extra lines on the face? Messy features, unshaven, unkempt hair. A shipwreck of a person. The reflection matched how I felt; utterly dreadful.
Yet, an inner voice keeps telling me that I can do something about my appearance. That inner voice tells me I can get a good haircut and I can have a nice shave. The words inside my head press me to think that I can also do the littlest tasks to make me feel better. I can put fresh sheets on my bed and I can make myself smell nice. I can get out of bed and have a shower and at least begin the day; whatever a "day" is right now. I can set aside time for breakfast, lunch and dinner even though I'm hardly hungry; the inner voice reminds me that the world keeps turning and so to have some routine might be a start in tiptoeing back into the real world.
The rudimentary nature of brushing my teeth twice daily is the core of my routine. I have been able to do that, so therefore I believe I can start to do other things. As wishy-washy as I feel, this is my life right now.
I can do nothing about the reality that Dad died in December from cancer. I can do nothing about the reality that Mum died seven years ago from cancer. Facing up to this reality is not exactly something I want to do right now. It is a horror film that I do not wish to be a part of, but yet regretfully I am the star of the show. I was at the front of the funeral procession on the 28th December, the final scenes of a desperately sad film. Followed by a wake with people telling you how good Dad "was"; putting him in the past. It wasn't quite my idea of Christmas.
Feeling totally confused by what has happened; by focusing on my appearance and focusing on brushing my teeth, then at least I have a purpose. Somewhere in the depths of my psyche, I have an inner voice which is advising me to do this. The comforting thought is that this calming and soothing inner voice is most definitely the voice of my parents.
A thought spilled over me while I was brushing my teeth before bed that I started the year with no parents. The two people who invested so much time, effort and love into me are gone. The two people who I adored, and whose advice I sought daily are no longer present. The two people who made me, and who wanted so much for me to succeed, are now just a series of memories.
I have lost my two biggest supporters. I looked in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, and thought: what on earth do I do now?
The person looking back at me is someone who I haven't seen before. Looking tired, drawn, lethargic. Shoulders sagging and slouched. What were those extra lines on the face? Messy features, unshaven, unkempt hair. A shipwreck of a person. The reflection matched how I felt; utterly dreadful.
Yet, an inner voice keeps telling me that I can do something about my appearance. That inner voice tells me I can get a good haircut and I can have a nice shave. The words inside my head press me to think that I can also do the littlest tasks to make me feel better. I can put fresh sheets on my bed and I can make myself smell nice. I can get out of bed and have a shower and at least begin the day; whatever a "day" is right now. I can set aside time for breakfast, lunch and dinner even though I'm hardly hungry; the inner voice reminds me that the world keeps turning and so to have some routine might be a start in tiptoeing back into the real world.
The rudimentary nature of brushing my teeth twice daily is the core of my routine. I have been able to do that, so therefore I believe I can start to do other things. As wishy-washy as I feel, this is my life right now.
I can do nothing about the reality that Dad died in December from cancer. I can do nothing about the reality that Mum died seven years ago from cancer. Facing up to this reality is not exactly something I want to do right now. It is a horror film that I do not wish to be a part of, but yet regretfully I am the star of the show. I was at the front of the funeral procession on the 28th December, the final scenes of a desperately sad film. Followed by a wake with people telling you how good Dad "was"; putting him in the past. It wasn't quite my idea of Christmas.
Feeling totally confused by what has happened; by focusing on my appearance and focusing on brushing my teeth, then at least I have a purpose. Somewhere in the depths of my psyche, I have an inner voice which is advising me to do this. The comforting thought is that this calming and soothing inner voice is most definitely the voice of my parents.
Friday, 7 October 2016
Wild Beasts. The Roundhouse. Wednesday 5th October 2016.
Wild Beasts took to the Roundhouse stage on Wednesday evening, for the second of two nights at the iconic Camden venue. The band's fifth album arrived in August, a sharper, edgier sound to previous work.
"Who wants to hear a song that isn't about sex?" laughs lead singer Hayden Thorpe, aware of the libidinous nature of many of his songs. He saunters back and forward ominously on stage, yet always meticulous in delivery. Fellow singer Tom Fleming cuts a more formidable figure, and frankly is more fearsome beneath a baseball cap; during 2BU he arches forward with arms aloft, glaring into the crowd; all whilst delivering the chorus in his distinct deeper vocal.
Wild Beasts are untamed during a rip-roaring opening. New tracks Ponytail and He the Colossus have such an energetic zing which is sustained throughout. The two singles taken from the recent album Boy King; Get My Bang and Big Cat; nicely step into line with the same energy.
The tiptoe steps back into the archive are appreciated warmly too. The performance of Reach a Bit Further highlights the clear chemistry - and vocal distinction - between the two lead singers. In a track like Mecca, for example; whereas Thorpe opts for the higher falsetto register, it is the softer lilting backing of Fleming that enhances the sound.
This vocal harmony between the two protagonists is the real draw of Wild Beasts. Thorpe takes centre stage, with Fleming positioned right of centre. Sartorially speaking; it is a vest, jeans, high top trainers and a baseball cap for Tom Fleming, while Hayden chooses a t-shift beneath a smart sleeveless buttoned top. By far and away not a sophisticated look; they just about carry it off.
This is a captivating show. Lion's Share still sounds so good, Hayden's vocals are particularly mellifluous here, although one wanted them to immediately follow by launching straight into Bed of Nails - just like on the glorious Smother album. Hooting and Howling is ageless. Wanderlust is peerless. The finale All the Kings Men has everyone trying their best "watch me!" impressions.
Yet, even though one can clearly see a "wilder" edgier Wild Beasts blossoming; it is their elegant and refined melodies that remain everlasting.
"Who wants to hear a song that isn't about sex?" laughs lead singer Hayden Thorpe, aware of the libidinous nature of many of his songs. He saunters back and forward ominously on stage, yet always meticulous in delivery. Fellow singer Tom Fleming cuts a more formidable figure, and frankly is more fearsome beneath a baseball cap; during 2BU he arches forward with arms aloft, glaring into the crowd; all whilst delivering the chorus in his distinct deeper vocal.
Wild Beasts are untamed during a rip-roaring opening. New tracks Ponytail and He the Colossus have such an energetic zing which is sustained throughout. The two singles taken from the recent album Boy King; Get My Bang and Big Cat; nicely step into line with the same energy.
The tiptoe steps back into the archive are appreciated warmly too. The performance of Reach a Bit Further highlights the clear chemistry - and vocal distinction - between the two lead singers. In a track like Mecca, for example; whereas Thorpe opts for the higher falsetto register, it is the softer lilting backing of Fleming that enhances the sound.
This vocal harmony between the two protagonists is the real draw of Wild Beasts. Thorpe takes centre stage, with Fleming positioned right of centre. Sartorially speaking; it is a vest, jeans, high top trainers and a baseball cap for Tom Fleming, while Hayden chooses a t-shift beneath a smart sleeveless buttoned top. By far and away not a sophisticated look; they just about carry it off.
This is a captivating show. Lion's Share still sounds so good, Hayden's vocals are particularly mellifluous here, although one wanted them to immediately follow by launching straight into Bed of Nails - just like on the glorious Smother album. Hooting and Howling is ageless. Wanderlust is peerless. The finale All the Kings Men has everyone trying their best "watch me!" impressions.
Yet, even though one can clearly see a "wilder" edgier Wild Beasts blossoming; it is their elegant and refined melodies that remain everlasting.
Wednesday, 17 August 2016
Roisin Murphy. Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. Monday 15th August 2016.
Sensational set from Roisin Murphy at a stunning venue. The first ever live electronic gig at the Shakespeare Globe on South Bank, and my oh my she pulled it off.
Appearing as Lauren Laverne's final act of her Wonder Women curated series of shows hosted at the Globe, this was where Murphy shone brightly beneath a full Shakespearean moon.
"Who's playing tonight? Othello? Midsummer Night's Dream? Nikki Murphy's daughter?" Roisin asked at one point during proceedings. You could tell how much Roisin loved being on that stage; even though the Globe has no roof, it felt very intimate.
Starting off with Mastermind, and playing songs from Hairless Toys like Gone Fishing and Evil Eyes, this was a set that had everyone toe-tapping, clapping and thigh slapping.
In between tracks, we were treated to verses of Shakespeare; her introduction to Ten Miles High included a thrilling mashup of a Shakespeare quote and the Irish classic (and title of her latest album) Take Her Up to Monto.
There were songs in Italian, there were songs from her Moloko era, there were constant costume changes; the crowd lapping up every second. This was exhilarating, this was exciting, this was an - I'm not sure what is going to happen next - kind of set. This was the best of Roisin Murphy.
Appearing as Lauren Laverne's final act of her Wonder Women curated series of shows hosted at the Globe, this was where Murphy shone brightly beneath a full Shakespearean moon.
"Who's playing tonight? Othello? Midsummer Night's Dream? Nikki Murphy's daughter?" Roisin asked at one point during proceedings. You could tell how much Roisin loved being on that stage; even though the Globe has no roof, it felt very intimate.
Starting off with Mastermind, and playing songs from Hairless Toys like Gone Fishing and Evil Eyes, this was a set that had everyone toe-tapping, clapping and thigh slapping.
In between tracks, we were treated to verses of Shakespeare; her introduction to Ten Miles High included a thrilling mashup of a Shakespeare quote and the Irish classic (and title of her latest album) Take Her Up to Monto.
There were songs in Italian, there were songs from her Moloko era, there were constant costume changes; the crowd lapping up every second. This was exhilarating, this was exciting, this was an - I'm not sure what is going to happen next - kind of set. This was the best of Roisin Murphy.
Monday, 25 July 2016
Iain Lee's Late Night Radio Show
On Monday March 21st 2016 at 22:00, Iain Lee introduced his Late Night Radio show on Talk Radio for the first time.
Produced by Katherine Boyle and presented by Iain Lee, these three-hours every weeknight tackle the zeitgeist head-on. Usually, there isn't a zeitgeist in sight, or even a topic; nor an on-going thread of conversation. Iain starts with a song followed by an entire blank canvas, thus allowing the callers to create themes and a sense of direction with their words. This is a phone-in show, but not as we know it.
There are pauses for reflection, and the workings are revealed to us, as the listener. With the invention of Periscope we have even further access; a camera broadcasts the scene from inside the studio.
This is an emotional roller-coaster of a show. Alan Caddick explaining why he was only quickly drawing on a cigarette because it meant he would "get less cancer" made me laugh like a drain. Katia's moving story about her father made me cry. When Russ started talking one night about CB radios, you could hear the sheer joy in his voice.
Special guests like computer expert Stephen Murdoch have made brief appearances; although Stephen wasn't able to help with any of the tricky technical issues raised to him by the callers, a real disappointment.
Barry from Watford has also popped up; one time he was notably unhappy with the presenter's critique of the recent Dad's Army film: "where do you get off slagging off Dad's Army?!" he complained. "People like you, are enemies of this country" he continued.
Nigel from Maidstone regularly updates us on the latest celebrity news. On occasions, he has been allowed to sing a song. "Lindsay Lo-horn" featuring backing vocals by Iain and Rob Burnett was a real treat.
The age profile of people joining-in ranges from eight to ninety. You have Dennis from Dunstable, Manny, Hugo Peters, Youtuber Sam and Anna/Hannah as the more regular speakers. There is a slightly higher ratio of male to female callers, yet I like how attempts have been made to redress the balance, with "female callers only" and "new people only" evenings. Katherine often joins Iain in the studio and adds an extra dimension of humour.
Interviews with guests also are a special part of the show, I loved hearing from the likes of Viv Albertine, Rhys Thomas and Andy Partridge. They help to draw in a wider crowd.
Highlights of the four months so far include a wonderful moment where non-football fan Iain calls into sister station Talk Sport to argue with Andy Goldstein and Jason Cundy, as angry Manchester City fan Dave. "Where's the other muppet Goldstein?!" Both Talk Sport presenters falling hook, line and sinker for the prank call.
The evening where Iain egged on a married couple to have sex following a late night decorating session; the time a young farmer explained the strained relationship with his wife; the occasion Iain randomly called Sweden; or the time we were all encouraged to 'love-bomb' Gina on Periscope; these are times when gold dust sprinkles out from the radio.
Silence is used to perfection by Iain. There are times when I am completely stopped in my tracks, unable to move until I hear what happens next. When a caller phoned in during the first week feeling suicidal, Iain took time out to listen to her. It was groundbreaking radio - something I've never heard before. Iain is equally open with his own feelings, and this I feel is part of the magic. Mental health is stigmatised in the media and is seen as taboo in British culture, but it is one of the most talked about subjects on the show.
One of the greatest nights was when Mr Ethical (Nicholas Wilson) called in, frustrated at a cover-up in the media. With tension palpable during the conversation, Nicholas promptly swore twice at Iain in quick succession, causing the presenter to "double dump" the offending words spoken.
Upon kindly allowing Nicholas back on, the discussion turned to mental health. Nicholas took part in this, albeit in a terse mood, and it was compelling unmissable radio.
On Friday evening a similar moment occurred. "Stuggy" phoned in, sounding extremely drunk after midnight. Suddenly we could hear a young child's voice in the background. Silence met the airwaves.
It was a clunky gear-change, something which happens often throughout the three hours. Iain's immediate denouncement of "Stuggy" and statement to not condone what was going on was a heart-in-mouth moment. It was dealt with excellently.
One night, Barry from Watford had a plea: "I want to talk about the Brexit. Brushing the Brexit? Tickling the exit?" In fact, current affairs and news stories are overlooked for juicier topics like "WPYKOO (Weirdest place you knocked one out?)" or "Can you lipread cartoons?".
I do however wish the news wasn't present at the top of every hour. A real vibe is garnered from the continual flow of calls throughout the evening, and the news bluntly pierces the mood.
Where's long lost Pitcher Phil and his American Football updates instead? Can they play the Littlest Hobo theme tune over the top perhaps? Maybe the answerphone messages? Instead of the news, can we have Jonathan from Swansea tell us his thoughts on another film he hasn't watched? Actually, I think I'd prefer the news in that last example.
Rather like The Unexplained with Howard Hughes on Sundays on Talk Radio, I feel Iain Lee's Late Night Radio show warrants a similar title. I have written nearly nine hundred words here and it really doesn't scratch the surface of what this is about.
You simply don't know what you're going to be tuning into each time. It is addictive radio, which I adore. If you're a listener you're a welcome part of the gang. All you need is the phone number to join in: 0844 499 1000. Cue Caddick: "we call you back". Hip hip hip.
Produced by Katherine Boyle and presented by Iain Lee, these three-hours every weeknight tackle the zeitgeist head-on. Usually, there isn't a zeitgeist in sight, or even a topic; nor an on-going thread of conversation. Iain starts with a song followed by an entire blank canvas, thus allowing the callers to create themes and a sense of direction with their words. This is a phone-in show, but not as we know it.
There are pauses for reflection, and the workings are revealed to us, as the listener. With the invention of Periscope we have even further access; a camera broadcasts the scene from inside the studio.
This is an emotional roller-coaster of a show. Alan Caddick explaining why he was only quickly drawing on a cigarette because it meant he would "get less cancer" made me laugh like a drain. Katia's moving story about her father made me cry. When Russ started talking one night about CB radios, you could hear the sheer joy in his voice.
Special guests like computer expert Stephen Murdoch have made brief appearances; although Stephen wasn't able to help with any of the tricky technical issues raised to him by the callers, a real disappointment.
Barry from Watford has also popped up; one time he was notably unhappy with the presenter's critique of the recent Dad's Army film: "where do you get off slagging off Dad's Army?!" he complained. "People like you, are enemies of this country" he continued.
Nigel from Maidstone regularly updates us on the latest celebrity news. On occasions, he has been allowed to sing a song. "Lindsay Lo-horn" featuring backing vocals by Iain and Rob Burnett was a real treat.
The age profile of people joining-in ranges from eight to ninety. You have Dennis from Dunstable, Manny, Hugo Peters, Youtuber Sam and Anna/Hannah as the more regular speakers. There is a slightly higher ratio of male to female callers, yet I like how attempts have been made to redress the balance, with "female callers only" and "new people only" evenings. Katherine often joins Iain in the studio and adds an extra dimension of humour.
Interviews with guests also are a special part of the show, I loved hearing from the likes of Viv Albertine, Rhys Thomas and Andy Partridge. They help to draw in a wider crowd.
Highlights of the four months so far include a wonderful moment where non-football fan Iain calls into sister station Talk Sport to argue with Andy Goldstein and Jason Cundy, as angry Manchester City fan Dave. "Where's the other muppet Goldstein?!" Both Talk Sport presenters falling hook, line and sinker for the prank call.
The evening where Iain egged on a married couple to have sex following a late night decorating session; the time a young farmer explained the strained relationship with his wife; the occasion Iain randomly called Sweden; or the time we were all encouraged to 'love-bomb' Gina on Periscope; these are times when gold dust sprinkles out from the radio.
Silence is used to perfection by Iain. There are times when I am completely stopped in my tracks, unable to move until I hear what happens next. When a caller phoned in during the first week feeling suicidal, Iain took time out to listen to her. It was groundbreaking radio - something I've never heard before. Iain is equally open with his own feelings, and this I feel is part of the magic. Mental health is stigmatised in the media and is seen as taboo in British culture, but it is one of the most talked about subjects on the show.
One of the greatest nights was when Mr Ethical (Nicholas Wilson) called in, frustrated at a cover-up in the media. With tension palpable during the conversation, Nicholas promptly swore twice at Iain in quick succession, causing the presenter to "double dump" the offending words spoken.
Upon kindly allowing Nicholas back on, the discussion turned to mental health. Nicholas took part in this, albeit in a terse mood, and it was compelling unmissable radio.
On Friday evening a similar moment occurred. "Stuggy" phoned in, sounding extremely drunk after midnight. Suddenly we could hear a young child's voice in the background. Silence met the airwaves.
It was a clunky gear-change, something which happens often throughout the three hours. Iain's immediate denouncement of "Stuggy" and statement to not condone what was going on was a heart-in-mouth moment. It was dealt with excellently.
One night, Barry from Watford had a plea: "I want to talk about the Brexit. Brushing the Brexit? Tickling the exit?" In fact, current affairs and news stories are overlooked for juicier topics like "WPYKOO (Weirdest place you knocked one out?)" or "Can you lipread cartoons?".
I do however wish the news wasn't present at the top of every hour. A real vibe is garnered from the continual flow of calls throughout the evening, and the news bluntly pierces the mood.
Where's long lost Pitcher Phil and his American Football updates instead? Can they play the Littlest Hobo theme tune over the top perhaps? Maybe the answerphone messages? Instead of the news, can we have Jonathan from Swansea tell us his thoughts on another film he hasn't watched? Actually, I think I'd prefer the news in that last example.
Rather like The Unexplained with Howard Hughes on Sundays on Talk Radio, I feel Iain Lee's Late Night Radio show warrants a similar title. I have written nearly nine hundred words here and it really doesn't scratch the surface of what this is about.
You simply don't know what you're going to be tuning into each time. It is addictive radio, which I adore. If you're a listener you're a welcome part of the gang. All you need is the phone number to join in: 0844 499 1000. Cue Caddick: "we call you back". Hip hip hip.
Thursday, 16 June 2016
Connan Mockasin. Meltdown Festival, Royal Festival Hall. Wednesday 15th June 2016.
There's nothing quite like a Connan Mockasin concert. The performance is unique, unforgettable, unfathomable and unlike anything else you will see at the Royal Festival Hall this week, or any week.
There was definitely an electric tingle in the air before the show; tonight marking the midway point of Guy Garvey's wonderfully curated Meltdown Festival. The rumour mill abuzz with tales of who might be playing along too
Before Connan had even played a note, there were audible yelps, screams and shouts welcoming him. Mockasin was distinctly dressed in a pink beret, and green boots. Opening with the cool as hell Caramel flavoured "Do I Make You Feel Shy?" and the surreal "It's Choade my Dear", the night was alive.
The lead singer gave the audience the nod to dance. Whilst the band (comprising drummer, bassist, guitarist, bongo player) tinkered around on the wonderfully tousled number Faking Jazz Together, a huddle of people began surrounding the centre front of the stage. The huddle became a large melee and movement of bodies, arms and legs, extending across and down the aisles.
The rhythm and tempo is efficacious - allowing the listener to focus on the tinkering charms of Connan - while one almost forgets the various time signatures that are ever present in the background.
Two additional treats were in store to help keep that time signature in check. Dave Okumo of The Invisible firstly was introduced on guitar - and the show took on a funkier twist. Following this was special guest ingredient James Blake; who out of nowhere appeared on the keyboards front right of the action to add extra flavour.
One must say that one cannot cover all what went on this special night. So much happened before the audiences' eyes. The evening certainly went into overdrive once all guests were part of the performance.
A gentle chaos took over proceedings. The version of Forever Dolpin Love was charged with excitement from the close quarters of the spectators. Connan started pacing up and down, guitar in hands, acting as a metronome for the rest of the band. Not surprisingly the track gradually built to such a crescendo and wall of noise, what could possibly top it? A stage invasion? Well, quite!
As guitarist Rory McCarthy (shirtless but with braces) was just starting up Megumi the Milkyway: "Ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh ee ooh!" a slow surge of people started to climb onto the performing area. Rory took a step back literally; the jam was ongoing while the sea of bodies swelled around them. The intruders danced and swayed until they were politely disinvited and told to leave the stage. Megumi was eventually completed once all were non-stage; and the band left to rapturous unhinged applause.
Thursday, 9 June 2016
Madness. 100 Club. Wednesday 8th June 2016.
Until Wednesday evening, Madness had never played the 100 Club, on Oxford Street. A band interwoven with London culture set foot inside the iconic club on a muggy June evening. This was part of a selection of intimate gigs all on the same night for the charity Nordoff Robbins. (Other shows included Squeeze playing Oslo in Hackney and Alison Moyet performing to a tiny room at the Roundhouse).
The band meandered their way from the adjacent backstage door next to the bar through the crowd to the stage; a throwback of sorts to their 1979 Top of the Pops performance of One Step Beyond. Downstairs and away from the hustle and bustle of Oxford Street, the club is an anachronism, steeped in rock history. You forget what year it is when you descend the staircase. This is a hot, dark room with a capacity of 350 people and an infamous* giant pillar in the middle; possibly holding everything together. This year marks forty years since Johnny Rotten and Siouxsie Sioux played their memorable shows over two nights here; by many defined as the beginning of punk.
(*Viv Albertine's excellent memoir narrates the tale of Sid Vicious lobbing a pint glass at the pillar, only for the glass to rebound, shatter and blind a girl in one eye. Vicious was subsequently arrested in the aftermath. Viv tells it better than I do. I highly recommend her book).
The set is a sing-along of a sing-alongs. With numbers like Shut Up, NW5 and The Bed and Breakfast Man, everyone in the room knows the words and gleefully cries them back from where they came. Lead singer Suggs, wearing a suit with a stripy t-shirt and sunglasses; is the ringmaster. Chrissy Boy and Lee Thompson provide the entertainment value; at one point Thompson pours champagne into flutes for the revellers at the front. Bedders on bass, Woody on drums and Barso on keyboards the driving forces on rhythm and tempo.
There is a Pearly Queen in attendance, along with rock royalty too. Chrissy Boy's former girlfriend Jane of the Mo-Dette's was called up on stage to sing a storming version of Madness later on the set, a real highlight of the evening.
Comprising songs old and new, the band perform a rare outing of Girl (Why Don't You), a cover taken from their Dangermen era. The finale is joyful, and the audience are in raptures. Wings of a Dove, the aforementioned Madness and Night Boat to Cairo ensure that those watching on never have two feet on the floor at the same time. This is a humdinger of a gig, in a pocket sized perspiring historic box of a venue. Madness playing the unique 100 Club for the very first time, this felt a real privilege to be there.
The band meandered their way from the adjacent backstage door next to the bar through the crowd to the stage; a throwback of sorts to their 1979 Top of the Pops performance of One Step Beyond. Downstairs and away from the hustle and bustle of Oxford Street, the club is an anachronism, steeped in rock history. You forget what year it is when you descend the staircase. This is a hot, dark room with a capacity of 350 people and an infamous* giant pillar in the middle; possibly holding everything together. This year marks forty years since Johnny Rotten and Siouxsie Sioux played their memorable shows over two nights here; by many defined as the beginning of punk.
(*Viv Albertine's excellent memoir narrates the tale of Sid Vicious lobbing a pint glass at the pillar, only for the glass to rebound, shatter and blind a girl in one eye. Vicious was subsequently arrested in the aftermath. Viv tells it better than I do. I highly recommend her book).
The set is a sing-along of a sing-alongs. With numbers like Shut Up, NW5 and The Bed and Breakfast Man, everyone in the room knows the words and gleefully cries them back from where they came. Lead singer Suggs, wearing a suit with a stripy t-shirt and sunglasses; is the ringmaster. Chrissy Boy and Lee Thompson provide the entertainment value; at one point Thompson pours champagne into flutes for the revellers at the front. Bedders on bass, Woody on drums and Barso on keyboards the driving forces on rhythm and tempo.
There is a Pearly Queen in attendance, along with rock royalty too. Chrissy Boy's former girlfriend Jane of the Mo-Dette's was called up on stage to sing a storming version of Madness later on the set, a real highlight of the evening.
Comprising songs old and new, the band perform a rare outing of Girl (Why Don't You), a cover taken from their Dangermen era. The finale is joyful, and the audience are in raptures. Wings of a Dove, the aforementioned Madness and Night Boat to Cairo ensure that those watching on never have two feet on the floor at the same time. This is a humdinger of a gig, in a pocket sized perspiring historic box of a venue. Madness playing the unique 100 Club for the very first time, this felt a real privilege to be there.
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