Colin's Godson – In Space.

First thing I thought when I got this through was Christ check the package on Colin's Godson.

It wasn't a homosexual exclamation of wonderment though.

It was more to do with how the band have put their album out.

It's like a seven inch single that lampoons a Tin Tin comic and instead of holding a slice of vinyl it has a whole albums worth of material on a CD within it, and what a CD that is.

ItsaXXXXthing have been on a roll recently, and I'm starting to forget the last time I was sent something to review that hit the bottom of the 'things to get around to' bin.

Do you like the Auteurs, Badder Meinhoff, Black Box Recorder?

If so then there's quite a bit of the genius of Luke Haines here, but there's also a great deal of infectious punk pop tomfoolery with a loose sci-fi concept.

Its as mad as a box of frogs who have overdosed on aceeeeeeed and are partying like tomorrow will be the dawning of an age when amphibians take over the world.

At the moment 'Let's Destroy the Thatcher Brain' is lodged in my head and I can't seem to shake it loose.

I suspect that if I do then it may just be replaced by something else by the band that is equally as fucked up and funny.

It's half man half biscuit a space oddity 2012 – a rock opera, and I say that with the greatest respect.

It's so good I'm just going to put it back on. Then when it's finished I may just put it back on again.

Bands website.   Buy their albums here, including this one.   The album was recorded here and involved a tea binge that has went down in history as the mightiest of all tea binges ever. Even more mighty than the party they had in Boston where lots of tea was spilled.

Hurray for the Riff Raff - Look out Mama

Apparently I've been living under a rock.

That can be the only explanation for my ignorance of the existence of Hurray for the Riff Raff aka Alynda Lee Segarra.

My introduction to her/their talents was rather serendipitous.

A random email arrived asking if I would be interested in reviewing the album, and then it went on to say that there was an Alabama Shakes connection as it shared a producer.

While I was reading the email I had Alabama Shakes playing so while I'm not one to to claim that everything is mapped out it did seem fateful.

A stars aligning moment if you believe in that sort of thing.

Within a few minutes the music was washing over me.

It's beguiling stuff.

Midway through it I was hooked.

Describing themselves as a country folk band seems to downplay just how good they are.

It's a niche that they have one foot in, but there's far more going on.

Similarly to claim they were just another Americana act would fall short of covering the talents on display.

There's a great deal of depth in the material.

There's history there.

It's tremendously evocative of a time and place that doesn't exist in any sort of reality, and instead is a pot pourri of the sounds of the highways and byways of America, the sweat of the land, the births and deaths of generations.

There's something of the mountain tracks and fresh clean air, the vista splitting asphalt that divides deserts and runs to the point where the earth meets the sky.

It's all there.

It sounds like the slow and easy heartbeat of the US.

Not the corporate marching drum beat, but the real sound of the people.

While listening to it I'm filled with hope.

Hope for the future, hope for the generations to come.

I also hope that one day far far in the future that kids are sitting in a history class and feeling the weight of the evils of the world pressing down on them, and one comes forward and says 'I found this in a time capsule buried in my back yard' and the class listens to it and as the last note rings out a voice of a kid says 'The world wasn't as bad as the paint it eh?'

Beautiful album.

Band Website   UK Label.  Buy it here for £6

This isn't on the album, but instead it comes from a free covers album that was released as an extra for those who pledged towards 'Look out Mamma'.

The Futureheads – Rant

I'll make no bones about it.

I used to love the Futureheads.

The first couple of albums were a post punk breath of fresh air.

Then everything seemed to go tits up rather rapidly.

My love affair with the band was seriously derailed when along with my son we went to see them play a gig in Glasgow.

That show is one of only two that I have ever walked out on.

(Whisper it, The other was Killing Joke in Edinburgh)

The sound on the night was a deafening mess and all the harmonies that I was particularly impressed with were lost within the roar, while the backdrop was a wall of seizure inducing lighting that strobed intensely and viciously at the crowd.

If we had stayed until the end I suspect my son would have morphed into Tommy. That deaf dumb and blind kid with the pinball machine.

When people ask me what the worst gig I have ever attended is I usually say that it was this one.

From that night The Futureheads and myself exited through different doors and until now our paths have never crossed.

With their latest release it sounds like a belated apology from an old flame though.

With the harmonies firmly in place their collection of self penned and covers done in a a cappella style has provided me with a welcome reintroduction to the band.

I can feel the stirring of attraction building up.

Apart from their original songs there's an impressive take on a round in their cover of 'Sumer is Icumen in', a medieval song that was apparently written around 1260.

While their reinterpretations of songs by both the Black Eyed Peas and Kelis sound better to my ears than the original, while their rendition of the Sparks classic 'The No 1 song in Heaven' is pretty sharp to.

The covers themselves nestle very comfortably in among the bands own material.

They don't jump out and give the impression of being dislocated from the whole and instead the a cappella angle gives the whole album a great deal of comfortable cohesiveness.

I'm very impressed to be honest.

If they continue to release albums of this quality then I may forgive them for scuppering our burgeoning relationship years ago and give them another chance.

Band website

Alabama Shakes - King Tuts - 09/05/12 (Glasgow)

Sometimes music can virtually transcend reality.

It can take you from your immediate surroundings and provide you with a high that no chemical concoction every could.

Your eyes dilate, the hairs rise on your arms, and for a moment in time the sounds created by a band, or a single artist, manages to become the centre of your universe.

A connection is made between those who are creating the music and those who are listening to it.

It can feel like a spiritual experience, and an argument could be made that the path to nirvana is an aural one.

Imagine the band performing as Michelangelo's God, and the audience as his Adam, while the gap between crackles with the electricity of life.

That's what it was like witnessing Alabama Shakes on their first visit to Glasgow.

In over thirty years of attending gigs I can count on one hand the occasions that I have felt that primal connection, and I count myself lucky that I have participated in as many as that.

While there are great gigs and phantasmagorical shows that live on in your memory, it is also true that some performances exist as a singularly breathtaking experience.

They go beyond what it is to simply participate in listening to music live.

It's not every artist or band that can provide that moment, and often when they do it isn't something that can be repeated on cue.

Instead it would seem that it has to organically come to life. 

A certain balance between performer and audience has to be reached, and then maintained.

It doesn't even seem to be something that needs a physical connection, as when I have been privileged to be in the right place at the right time I would say that the main performer isn't actually trying to entertain, but instead they have become lost in what they are doing, and that intensely personal evocation of their art is quite possibly where the magic lies.

The connection with the listener is real, but it is also voyeuristic.

I stood stage front, and slightly to the side of Brittany Howard, and was transfixed as she sang.

Every single word, every single syllable, every grunt and yelp was emotionally charged.

What Alabama Shakes did isn't something that can be captured in a studio or on a television appearance.

No matter how good anyone considers their album to be, or how impressed they are with the live footage that is available, it is still a diluted facsimile of the real deal.

The phrase 'you had to be there' has never been more apt.

Previously I have spoken about the similarities in her tone to Janis Joplin, but live there is so much more going on.

There's the soul of Stax and Muscle Shoals, there's James Brown, Aretha Franklin, the desperate rawness of Joplin and some emotive Tina Turner all fighting for the upper hand.

None can manage it though as there is only one Brittany Howard.

A singularly inspirational talent who deservedly garners hyperbolic superlatives from critics everywhere she goes

The band themselves are rock solid in support.

Someone said to me that they seemed quite static.

That's not how I would describe them.

Instead they are the skeleton that provides the framework that everything else hangs on.

They don't have to pander to show business flourishes.

Instead they simply let their skills as musicians do the talking.

If any of them started throwing rock star shapes then it would demean the performance and Alabama Shakes aren't about that.

They are all about the music.

It really was a privilege to have been there.

I've ran out of things to say that will convey how good the whole show was.

Similar to how some claim to speak in tongues as they are receiving Gods own words straight to them, and that their puny human bodies cannot articulate the message I may just start babbling here.

It really was that good.

If you can't accept my word on it then go and see them, and I sincerely hope that they are firing on all cylinders and you get turned inside out like I did.

Band Website     Rough Trade Records        Alabama Shakes on Facebook

The ongoing adventures of Shug ONeill

This is going to be the last bit (maybe) from Shug (Cocksparrer/Guttersnipes/Snipes) about his memoirs, as from here on in the rest will be getting saved for the book itself.

It's a sort of teaser so that people will know what to expect.

It's true that sex, drugs and rocknroll stories proliferate the shelves of rock fans everywhere, but I doubt many will be as 'out there' as this one.

It's also with great pleasure that I can say that the book itself has moved on from being an idea to becoming closer to a reality as a publisher is now on board.

I'm especially pleased as I played a small part in that. (There you go. I'm taking credit for something. Although that something is just being a small link in a chain.)

Anyhow. Here's Shug in his own words.

Me and Andy bought about 80 microdots and then went on a huge trip.

I met Cheech & Chong in Norway, I married a German prostitute, I spent a weekend break in a gay brothel in Amsterdam.

More coming to light. We played for New Age Travellers in Andover on their way to Amsterdam and as a result got to play at The Glastonbury Festival a week later!

I got my brothers band The Humour a gig in London and we all got thrown out the venue the night before we played and the record company guy had to apologise profusely so we could still play!

Me and Andy being pulled up by gun totting police in Oslo for stealing our OWN posters!

Me going missing in Oslo (with an extremely beautiful Swedish woman) and the rest of the band dumping me in the mountains the next day!

Fighting with the drummer (Norway again), Island off the mainland, no street lights, people out with torches looking for me.

Me and the other rhythm guitarist fighting our way throughout Europe on last Guttersnipes tour (best one actually).

When Ex Cathedra played London (when I lived there) Alex Aitken said I asked for a lift back to Glasgow from them, by this time I was in a hell of a state and my teeth had been falling out due to drug and drink abuse, the rest of the band didn't know who I was (Alex was a very old & good friend), he said this is Shug, ex Cock Sparrer & Guttersnipes, they thought he had picked up an old alcoholic.

I arrived in Glasgow even though I lived in London.

Be warned, this book is not just gonna be all funny stories, some of it will be quite gritty and perhaps a warning, but at least I'm happy now and do you know what?

I dont regret any of it coz I probably wouldn't have got where I am now if it hadn't happened!

Shug.

Cocksparrer

Guttersnipes from Punk & Oi site

The Snipes.

Events for Charities - Punk and Ska - Maggie Mays - 05/05/12 (Glasgow)

I think I am getting too old for burning the candle at both ends.

On Saturday I was up at 7am for work, then from there I went home I grabbed a quick shower, got changed, and then ran out to meet Robbie and jump on the train to head to the bright city lights of Glasgow.

Once there we met up with KelC and Claire before heading straight to Maggie Mays to indulge in a night of punk and ska madness in aid of Yorkhill Hospital.

(A very worthy cause to throw some money at. If you are reading, and not from Scotland, then Yorkhill is our version of the world famous Great Ormond Street Hospital.)

It was pretty much none stop from there on in as we watched some of the cream of the crop of the Scottish ska and punk scenes.

The Jackhammers

First to offer their services for this charity event were The Jackhammers.

This was the second time I had seen them in a matter of weeks and once again I was left breathless at how shambolically tight they are.

Okay that's an oxymoron, but you wouldn't disagree if you were there to see them play.

While some bands have the attitude and the look they can often fall short on delivering the goods, but The Jackhammers have got it all, even if they pretend to be sort of laissez faire in delivering it.

Highlight was the homoerotic interlude when straight guitarist Bryan snogged an equally straight punter down the front.

In a couple of seconds the provided a real punk moment that probably made a large chunk of the room uncomfortable.

Challenging perceptions is never a bad thing, and if you can back it up with a soundtrack to match then I'm a pig in the proverbial.

The Skarsoles were next to grace us with their presence and showed off their talents with a heady brew of US styled ska punk.

It's a sound that would appear to have had its day to an extent, but when played well, as it was by these guys, it very obviously still has the ability to slap a smile on a punters face and have their legs jerking to the beat.

I have a vague recollection of seeing them before, but I was unsure until someone mentioned that they have played in support to a few well known bands, but the line up was different.

So that may explain my sense of enjoyable deja vu.

After The Skarsoles it was supposedly Fire Exit, but unfortunately lead singer Gerry was unwell and made a very rare cancellation.

While that was a disappointment the upside was that some special guests were drafted in and we were treated to the mighty 4 Past Midnight in their place.

Once again it is only a matter of weeks ago that I seen them play last and while I was suitably impressed with their return to playing live after a lay off this small venue and stage is somehow the perfect place for the lads to play.

It conveys a sense of the underground and that punk rock isn't really for the larger stages and venues.

It can be transported there and there is plenty of proof that punk can hold it's on in the stadiums, but its heart beats in the clubs.

This is where the bands cut their teeth and sharpen what they do.

4 Past Midnight were once again hitting it hard and on the basis of the last two gigs it isn't going to be long before they are back to being a force to be reckoned with in UK punk circles.

Following on from them was one of my favourite bands.

Not a favourite band in the Glasgow scene, or even the Scottish scene, but just simply one of my favourite bands.

I'm not going to say that I would slot in them into a top ten, but The Red Eyes are a band that I keep coming back to when I'm slipping on CDs.

Some bands and artists who I consistently return to are The Ramones, The Cramps, Clash, New York Dolls, Hanoi Rocks, Billie Holiday Johnny Cash and for some reason The Red Eyes.

Don't as me why as I wouldn't argue that there are better bands out there, but in the case of the Red Eyes I do go back to them more often than I do many other acts.

It's probably something to do with a comfort zone.

Their music is rooted in the sounds of the bands I've listened to all my life so instead of picking out ten albums from ten different acts I can just bounce around to The Red Eyes and get the same enjoyment for a fraction of the hassle.

When it's live they just take it to another level.

They should call their next album 'If Carlsberg did punk...........'

The one and only tribute acts of the evening were to follow them and I've got a bit of a soft spot for the Counterfeit Clash as there no real effort to look like the band and they certainly aren't a parody.

Instead it's juts all heads down and tearing into the Clash classics.

Sadly the fire wasn't set to roar on this occasion.

I'd put it down to the band just arriving back from gigging in Iceland and being a bit worn out from it, but none the less I have seen them much better.

It was still enjoyable, but fell short of expectations.

Lastly was Bombskare who jumped in and saved the night from finishing on an anticlimax.

Unlike the Skarsoles, Bombskare's ska is not of the US variety and more of a traditional style.

They are the undiluted sound of ska and it's as powerful as it is relentless.

By the second song my legs felt like jelly, but they just keeping rolling out punch after punch of the good stuff until the audience and myself were on the ropes.

There's no let up from them.

Aerobic gym instructors would flag and fall to the wayside mid set if they tried to keep up.

This is intense fun and not for the faint of heart.

It's music for the extreme sports fanatics.

As work outs go I'm too old for it, but there's also something compulsively inclusive to dancing to ska tunes.

You just can't help getting into it and pushing yourself to the limit as it plays out.

Once they finished I was glad.

Not because I was bored, or had enough, but instead because I had physically hit the wall. Second, thirds and fourth winds had been dredged up, but there was nothing left in the tank.

Brilliant stuff.

The night ended with missing a bus, having to wait for the next, getting in at 'is that the time' and grabbing about 4 hours sleep before heading out to do another twelve hours shift.

I'm only just recovering now.

Like I said, I think I am getting too old for burning the candle at both ends.

Huge respect has to go to James Edmond and everyone involved with Events for Charities for putting this on along with other gigs across the weekend in other venues.

It would be fair to say that regardless of what sort of music you are into then these guys had something for you, and all the cash went to an excellent cause.

If there were more people like James and those who helped him achieve this then the world would certainly be a brighter place

Events for Charities

Masquerade Ball 2012 - Ayr Town Hall.

The argument that Ayrshire can be a bit of a cultural wasteland is one that I have paid lips service to myself.
Apart from 'the Bard' we often seem to fail to extol the virtues of the arts and support them in any meaningful way.
Usually it is my knee jerk reaction to a failed venture that leads me to rant about a perceived disinterest in anything with cultural value.
The bookshop in Kilmarnock that stumbled due to the lack of patronage was one such catalyst.
Oh, my wrath at my fellow man over that debacle was loud and thunderous.
I often bemoan the ongoing poor attendance of events that EAC have arranged.
That's a particular pet hate.
My heart wept at the lack of interest in a production of Hamlet that visited the Palace Theatre.
The flip side of the coin is that it's not all doom and gloom though.
An international food market that has visited Ayrshire has been a huge success with locals sampling edible delights from every corner of the globe imaginable.
Then there has also been the success of Hipshot theatre who took a sort of punk ethic to performances of self penned plays and threw them into local hostelries to great acclaim.
The latest laudable attempt to entertain is a fantastical vision of an update of the 'Masquerade Ball'.
This event is taking place on Saturday 12th of May in Ayr's Town Hall, and features and array of talent.
Ayrshire's very own Melisa Kelly and the Harmless Thieves will be there to provide an eclectic mix of blues and soul influences rock and roll that will be sure to get the party started.
There is also an appearance from some members of the Royal Conservatoire going under the name of The Una Notte String Orchestra who will provide a touch of class to proceedings, but that's not all.
The staff of the Berkley Hotel will also be making their presence felt by providing an elegant buffet for the patrons of this fine evening.
What else could anyone wish for?
A bit of theatre?
Okay. You've twisted their arm. You can have some theatre to.
How about we get a bit ridiculous and demand a bouncy bar just for a laugh?
Okay they've sourced one.
(Damn. I should have asked for a night with some Hollywood starlet.)
I suspect that Ayrshire has never seen anything like this before.
I sincerely wish everyone involved in it my best wishes as we could do with our own midsummer nights dream that would provide us all with some welcome respite from every day life.
Tickets available here.

Freedom to voice an opinion. The forgotten art of expression.

Just a general question.

Is it still exploitation when those being exploited are considering it an honour and privileged to be used.
I only ask as a few times my outspoken defence of the exploited, as I see them, has been questioned with it being said that it seems foolish to defend those who will not defend themselves.

Maybe I have been wrong.

Should others, who we often don't know, be left to those who would abuse them without a cautionary warning?

When we perceive a situation to be wrong should we remain silent or speak out?

Morally speaking I would suspect that most will say that we should all accept communal responsibility for each other and yes, speak out, but it is easier to say it that than do it.

This is a wide ranging question, but as I have used my blog and FB to publicly comment about a whole raft of situations that could be bundled together as speaking out against exploitation it is interesting to me personally to hear other peoples views.

Should I stick to live reviews, music reviews and nonsense?

Is voicing an opinion about the less than savoury behaviour of individuals in the world of music and global politics something that people would rather turn away from?

At the moment these posts seem to be like marmite. Equally loved and loathed.

As this is my blog I will probably continue to fill it with whatever I want, but it does seem necessary to get a handle on what is, and isn't, what readers want from it.

Mardigras Bombers - Come on in.

Over the last few years there's been an increasing amount of punk bands coming to my attention whose members could be described as having been around the block a few times.

That's far from a criticism though.

Nine times out of ten they're rag dolling their youthful peers about stages up and down the fair isle of ours.

That's probably down to them having paid their dues numerous times, and it also helps that they have wealth of musical knowledge that they can dip into to influence their own original material.

In the main there's rarely a downside to those of a certain vintage taking the gloves off and stepping into the ring.

All of this, and more, is true about The Mardigras Bombers, the latest band to get the STP records treatment.

Slip the disc in and from the start they are grabbing you by the scruff of the neck and dragging you along on a historical tour of the sounds of punk rock.

It's all very high quality stuff to.

There's none of that Exploited nonsense, or garbled shouty shouty bollocks.

Instead there's the Dead Boys, The Dead Kennedys, The Damned, the dub reggae sound that was so prevalent when punk was finding its feet, The Stranglers and..........well so much that you could be here for hours listing the nuggets of influences that flavour the album.

The good thing about the multiple influences is that The Mardigras Bombers end up avoiding sounding like any singular band, and instead come across as a deep melting pot of all that is good about the genre.

Every time I put the album on something else floats to the surface to impress me.

It's quickly becoming my one stop shop for punk goodness.

If I was to rate bands out of five stars for the blog then 'Come on in' is a six star album that's edging closer to a seven the more I listen to it.

STP Records

Mardigras Bombers on facebook

Avengers entertain kids in the creche.

Is getting annoyed at kids in the cinema a sign of creeping old age?

Kel and me went to see the ultimate superhero movie Avengers Assemble yesterday and were blown away with it, but prior to the film starting I could feel the tension build up in my neck and shoulders as one small lad clambered over chairs and chattered away randomly, while for the first twenty minutes of the actual movie another started a drum beat on the back of my chair with his feet.

I was close to telling the comic book nerd sitting behind me with his kid that it wasn't a bloody creche, and if he was that desperate to see the film then he should have hired a babysitter.

When I took my kids to the cinema no one ever had to ask me to keep them quiet, or glare at me because they were kicking the backs of people’s seats.

It takes seconds to explain to them that they are not in their own home and that the cinema is not a playground.

If for some reason they can't participate in watching the film without swinging on anything swing-able, crying halfway through it in boredom, or leaving their seat to do laps of the cinema then the solution is DON'T TAKE THEM.

To be fair the lad who was clambering over chairs was told by father calmly and reasonably that once the film started he had to sit in his seat and watch it.

It's to his credit that as soon as the film did begin he followed his fathers instructions and did sit and watch it all from start to finish.

That sort of parent and child are welcome to sit in front of me, behind me, or to either side of me at any film.

Unfortunately the kid behind me couldn't manage to go for the count of ten without either kicking my chair, or putting pressure on and it and pushing it forward.

Well maybe he could have if his father had told him not to, but not a single word was uttered by him.

Useless parenting.

I looked around a few times as his son booted my chair.

We all do that don't we?

It's the opening salvo in trying to draw attention to your displeasure.

In doing it we hope that the parent or child will click onto the action/reaction part of it.
The equation is simple. You kick my chair + I glare at you = Don't kick chair.

Words aren't really needed.

It didn't work though.

In the past my next step would be to say something, but now I would rather just avoid the confrontation and very obviously just move seats.

When I say very obviously I mean VERY OBVIOUSLY.

It's the whole shebang of the panto sigh and the snatching of the jacket accompanied by a glare or a stiff back is used to air my disappointment at a child ruining my cinema experience.

Some may consider that harsh, but for two adults it's anything between roughly fifteen and twenty quid for the cinema depending on where you want to sit.

It's an expensive couple of hours at the best of times without having to sit in the vicinity of a hyperactive child with kiddy tourettes.

Every second word is bum or jobby.

I'm not going to complain about this if it was a showing of Happy Feet or the latest Disney cartoon as these films are for that age group, but why is anyone taking a kid of four or under to a 12a rating.

It must be rare that it is because the child wants to see it.

More often than not it will be because the parent wants to see it and has failed to cover child care.

Save your cash and get it when it is out on DVD for a fraction of the price.

Have your offspring climb all over you as much as you want in the privacy of your own home.

That would be my suggestion to them if they can't find the time to go and see a movie without having to bring their kid with them.

Maybe cinemas should provide one showing a day that excludes kids of that age.

An acquaintance down in England says local cinema already does it and that shows that there is a demand.

I'm not actually against kids going to the cinema, or it being a family day out.

What I'm against is poor behaviour that impacts on other enjoyment of others.

Maybe I come across as a bit of a curmudgeon here, but if so then I'm poorly expressing myself and giving a false impression.

All I'm saying is come along and enjoy the film, but don't ruin my enjoyment of it for others.
Then again, maybe I am just getting old and can't be bothered with being annoyed.