Astonishingly it's December already so, as is traditional, it's now time for me to look back over the last twelve months at the cavalcade of concerts, the glut of gigs and the luxuriance of live events that I was fortunate enough to attend in 2017. It was a real humdinger of a year with some absolute stonkers - especially during the summer months. And even though I missed out on a few pearls due to illness, last-minute emergencies and postponement - Mastodon, Future Islands and Dinosaur Jr, I'm looking at you - I still managed to tick off some serious bucket list entries. So, eyes down then......
The year kicked off in some style with the return to Brixton Academy of Oklahoma's one and only psychedelic nutballs The Flaming Lips, who - as usual - pulled out all the stops with confetti cannons, giant inflatables, streamers and life-sized glowing unicorns all in attendance. Ben Bridwell and his Band Of Horses cohorts were next up, choogling on down to East London on a freezing cold February eve. Scotland's finest exponents of 'the jangle' followed suit, with the glorious Teenage Fanclub touring last year's splendid 'Here' album and causing grown men to admit there might be "something in my eye" as they regaled the Shepherd's Bush faithful with absolute classics like Everything Flows and Sparky's Dream.
April brought us the return of Jason Lytle and his Grandaddy chums, who released their first album in a decade with 'Last Place'. Their gig at The Roundhouse in Camden was a triumph, but tragedy was to follow as co-founder Kevin Garcia died on the next leg of the tour in mainland Europe. A heartbreaking denouement to their recent revival.
The springtime kicked in monstrously with incendiary appearances by gnarly medieval folk-rockers Wolf People at Islington's Assembly Hall; prog-infused jazz-funkers Snarky Puppy at Brixton; gargantuanly bass-heavy old-school dub-dance titans Leftfield - performing their classic 'Leftism' opus in full - also at Brixton; and a spectaculary spectral performance by my Album Of 2016 winner Angel Olsen at The Roundhouse. Not even halfway through the year and my cup runneth over! Tremendously, June didn't let up in the slightest with a 25th Anniversary show of the mighty 'Let Me Come Over' album by Bostonian alt-indie legends Buffalo Tom at Islington; Oxford's shoegazing masters Ride at Shoreditch's oh-so-trendy Village Underground; rap-rock supergroup Prophets Of Rage turning Brixton into a sea of moshing mentalheads; pastoral psych-rockers Arbouretum at Our Black Heart in Camden; superlative, sweat-inducing funk with Lettuce just down the road at The Jazz Cafe; grizzled post-grunge electronica with Mark Lanegan and his band, even further down the road at Koko - all topped off with a mighty showing from Britpop fulcrum and former Verve frontman Richard Ashcroft, who sold out Brixton Academy and brought the house down with stupendous renditions of Bittersweet Symphony, The Drugs Don't Work, Sonnet and many more.
Into July then, and a couple of mega-gigs in Hyde Park as the achingly corporate and eye-wateringly expensive British Summer Time Festival returned with 6 all-dayers of varying quality and skewed line-ups. I usually find myself annually attending at least one of these beanos, and this year I managed two of the buggers. First up, the modern-day Doobie Brothers - Kings Of Leon - headlined on the second Friday, astonishingly ahead of HUGELY influential alt-rock godfathers - and my second fave band of all time - the Pixies. A clerical error for sure methinks? The Kings were fine, but the true kings - Frank Black and co - showed the Followill boys how it should be done. A masterclass in songcraft and live performance. BST's final day was - in hindsight - a bittersweet affair, as American singer-songwriter icon Tom Petty and his Heartbreakers brought their 40th Anniversary tour to the big field and tore the non-existent roof off. Following his tragic and untimely death no more than 3 months later, my memory of Petty and his band rattling through American Girl at the finale, whilst 60,000 immensely happy and refreshed punters grooved away on the grass, will stay with me for some considerable time. RIP Tom.
With the summer winding down and the leaves on the trees starting to turn, I found myself heading to Hammersmith's venerable old Apollo theater for an extraordinarily ethereal evening in the presence of Iceland's finest purveyors of dreamy, string-laden, modern-day prog rock - Sigur Ros. They sold out three nights at the venue and the show was an astonishing spectacle - full of sweeping soundscapes, emotionally charged instrumental passages and, toward the climax, thunderously epic guitar wig-outs. Outstanding stuff. I was back at Hammersmith a week later when America's answer to Radiohead - the really rather fantastic The National - celebrated their first UK Number One album in 'Sleep Well Beast' by going one better than Sigur Ros and selling out four nights. As per usual with Matt Berninger and co, the gig was a wonderfully intense affair, with the band at the peak of their powers and roaring through the bulk of the new album with real aplomb and emotional heft. Early classics like Fake Empire and Terrible Love were also given an airing - to a rapturous response from the faithful. I ended September by spending a few hours in luxurious comfort at the London Palladium as legendary New York singer-songwriter Suzanne Vega came to town. I've been listening to her music for almost thirty-five years now - indeed, her debut album still resides in my Top 3 of all time - and it was an absolute joy to witness her and her band perform two of her classic albums in full. 'Solitude Standing' - famed for it's hit singles Luka and Tom's Diner - is celebrating it's 30th anniversary, and Vega's fourth record - the more experimental '99.9f' - it's 25th. Both have stood the test of time in some style and hearing both sets of songs up close and personal in such a unique setting was a real highlight of the year.
However, as you'd expect from me here at No Static At All, there has to be a list of some kind. Whittling down the best of the best from this past year of storming shindigs and jumping jamborees hasn't been easy. But whittle it down I have. So, in reverse order, here are my Top 10 gigs of 2017. I'll see you at the bar....
10: ORBITAL 2/12 Hammersmith Apollo
A truly wonderful return to the live arena from the Hartnoll brothers - Phil and Paul - who, due to a little bit of sibling rivalry, have been 'on hiatus' since 2012's magisterial 'Wonky' album. This gig at Hammersmith was one of only two performances on their schedule - the other being in Manchester the night before. The completely sold out venue was rammed full of ageing techno-heads and old school dance bods - most of whom were the spit of Viz Comic's legendary 'Ravey Davey' character.
9: THE LIMINANAS 5/10 Oslo Hackney
Perpignan's husband and wife duo of Lionel and Marie Liminana brought their fuzzy, scuzzy blend of Gallic rock and roll to East London in October and promptly blew the roof off. Touring the UK for the first time on the back of last year's excellent 'Malamore' opus, the couple were complemented by a further 5 musicians, including vocalist Nika Leeflang, who added her warm and smoky voice to a bunch of tracks. Combining shoegaze, discordant indie, surf-rock and 60's indebted psych-beat to quite thrilling effect, this was heady stuff indeed. Merveilleux!!!
8: STEELY DAN 29/10 The O2
Sentiment is not something that's usually been associated with those eminent hipsters Steely Dan over the years, but when sole remaining member Donald Fagen took to the O2 stage at the end of October and glanced across to a lone microphone stand before seeming to visibly sag as he sat down behind his piano, I'm not ashamed to admit I welled up slightly. His first words to the gathered throng: "We're the Steely Dan organization, and we're a little different than usual but I'm just gonna have to live with that"' only compounded matters. This gig - the first Steely Dan performance in the UK since 2007 and part of The London BluesFest - came just a few short months since Fagen's musical partner of 50 years Walter Becker sadly passed away due to complications from a routine surgical procedure. Aside from that opening statement, Fagen kept his own counsel about recent events and let the music do the talking - which I'm pretty sure is how Becker would have wanted it. Due to the time constraints of a Sunday night in the Greenwich enormo-dome, Fagen and his hot-to-trot troupe of sterling musicians were only allotted 90 minutes of playing time so it's straight down to business with an opening troika of Bodhisattva, Black Cow (oh yes!) and Hey Nineteen. Due to my overwhelming love for this unique band's back catalogue - borne from repeated listens of the 'Aja' and 'Countdown To Ecstasy' albums during my teens - the only thing that was going to disappoint me about the evening was what they WEREN'T going to play. So even though there was no Do It Again, Rikki Don't Lose That Number or Haitian Divorce, we were still treated to Josie, Peg, Aja and Babylon Sisters as well as a truly wonderful closing double whammy of My Old School and the utterly fantastic paean to illicit drug-dealing that is Kid Charlemagne. Fagen, who must have had reservations about continuing to tour after Becker's death and who - understandably - looked more than a little fragile at the beginning of the evening, threw himself into proceedings full pelt once the music got going. On more than one occasion he got up to have a little boogie round the stage - usually tootling away on a melodica. The band were superb also, with special mention here for guitarist Michael Leonhart who was a veritable treasure trove of dazzling solos and licks. There was of course, just time enough for a frisky run through Reelin' In The Years, and then with a shy wave, Fagen was gone. Hopefully, he'll be happy to keep The Organization on the road for a little while longer, but if not, this was a splendid way to bow out.
7: GUNS 'N' ROSES 18/6 London Stadium
I waxed lyrical about this gig in an earlier review on these very pages, so for a more fulsome lowdown on the return of three fifths of the original line-up of the 80's 'most dangerous band in the world', then feel free to dive in and peruse that particular post. Suffice to say, this was one hell of a surprise. From the band bounding on stage dead on 8:00, to Axl Rose himself smiling and enjoying himself immensely, to previously warring compatriots Slash and Rose hugging and joking, right through to a 3 hour set full of perfect performances and stunning renditions of all the hits - this was nowhere near the car crash and complete shambles that many people thought it might be. Slash was on fire on the six strings, the unbelievably cool Duff McKagan radiated poise and swagger in equal measure, and Rose's vocals were a revelation. One of the best full-blown rock and roll extravaganzas I've ever been privy to. And Sweet Child O' Mine was ASTONISHING.
6: ENDLESS BOOGIE 17/9 The 100 Club
Just over 12 months since their last visit to London - and also since bagging the Number One slot in my live review of 2016 - New York's premier cabal of blues-infused psych-rock stoners rolled on down to the legendary 100 Club on Oxford Street on a balmy September Sunday and proceeded to blow my mind. Led by grizzled long-hair and modern-day rock renaissance man Paul 'Top Dollar' Major, who moonlights as an author and DJ, The Boogie were on absolute fire on this particular evening. Ostensibly in town to promote their fantastic new 'Vibe Killer' opus, the band ended up locking themselves into a groove so tight that I'm pretty sure only 5 songs were aired across 2 hours - one of which was a monumentally trippy journey through early fave Smoking Figs In The Back Yard. I could easily watch this band play for days and never tire of them.
5: SUN KIL MOON 26/11 Shepherd's Bush Empire
Regular readers of this here blog will know by now that I've got big, bad love for Ohio's greatest export - Sun Kil Moon main-man Mark Kozelek. I've maintained for many a year that he is the world's greatest living songwriter, and in recent years his record releases have continued to cement that fact for me. This year alone he's released an astonishing 4 albums - two of which are doubles for heaven's sake. Usually for any artist, being that prolific can mean diminishing returns. Not with Kozelek. Many of the songs he's released in 2017 have been the finest of his career. So, it was with intense anticipation that I headed off to West London on a dank and drizzly Sunday - perfect conditions you may think - to indulge myself in an evening of music and songs about death, grief, ageing, ennui and the futility of modern-day life. Bring it on, Koz! Accompanied by a four-piece band - including Dirty Three drummer Jim White - Kozelek focused mainly on this year's raft of releases, which meant disappointment for those in the venue who were expecting an evening of lush, acoustic ballads in the vein of 2014's commercially successful 'Benji' album. Indeed, after half an hour of discordant jazz textures and Zappa-esque left of centre time signatures, large chunks of the audience made for the exits - muttering the price of the ticket under their breath. What were you expecting, people? Ed Sheeran??? Of course, I found all of this hilarious. Kozelek has been around long enough by now to not give a monkey's fart what anyone thinks of him and he could well be even more ornery than my other favourite stubborn old buzzard Neil Young. The whole show was an absolute triumph though. Experimental and challenging? Absolutely. But life-affirming and unique too. There were tributes to recently departed Kozelek heroes David Cassidy and Malcolm Young alongside the more, ahem, out there material and there were spine-tingling and heart-breaking renditions of God Bless Ohio and A Dream Of Winter. There was also a twenty-five minute new song called Soap For Joyful Hands that he'd only written two nights before in an Italian hotel room. And the whole show was almost three and a half hours long. Truly, the man is a genius.
4: SHAWN SMITH 18/5 Putney Half Moon
Just like the above-mentioned Mark Kozelek, Seattle's Shawn Smith is one of my all-time favourite singers. Unlike Kozelek however, he's never quite broken through into the wider consciousness of the music loving masses and this is an absolute travesty. Spreading his talents far and wide over the last couple of decades, Smith has written for and sung with bands and artists like Brad, Satchel, Pigeonhed, Greg Dulli, Andrew Wood and Chris Cornell. In fact, this gig in Putney - one of two London dates on Smith's Out Of The Shadows tour - occurred one day after Cornell's tragic suicide which added many layers of emotion and poignancy to the evening. Just after this gig took place, I posted an appreciation of Smith and his talents (including a review of the gig) which, if you haven't done so already, I implore you to read. The man should be selling albums by the truck-load and this gig was just another reminder of his god-given talents. It was a glorious evening, full of sadness and joy, tears and laughter. Smith's golden and honeyed soulful voice was at it's absolute best on classics like The Day Brings, Buttercup and the magisterial Screen. There was even time for a real lump-in-the-throat moment when he combined Mother Love Bone's Crown Of Thorns with Prince's Purple Rain. Divine stuff.
3: LCD SOUNDSYSTEM 22/9 Alexandra Palace
When James Murphy reconvened his LCD Soundsystem project for some festival dates last year, there was a fair few fans crying foul. Murphy had ceased all LCD-related activity after the huge world tour that followed 2010's 'This Is Happening' album, culminating in a massive farewell concert at Madison Square Garden. The accompanying film - 'Just Play The Hits' - showed Murphy padding around his New York apartment the night after the gig and coming across as a man bereft. Had he done the right thing? Obviously not as, 6 years later, Murphy is back with the original band and an absolute masterpiece of a fourth album in 'American Dream'. Personally, I'm over the moon that they're back as for me, LCD are one of the most exciting and innovative bands out there. The two nights that they played at the cavernous barn that is North London's Alexandra Palace were complete sell-outs and the crackle of anticipation in the air was palpable. Murphy's original seven-piece band were all present and correct - including pink-jumpsuit clad Nancy Wang on keys, drum maestro Pat Mahoney and Hot Chip's Al Doyle on guitar. With four extraordinary albums of material to choose from, it was always going to be difficult for Murphy and co to please everyone but they gave it a magnificent shot. The angular art-funk of 2007's Get Innocuous and the slinky electronica of 2010's You Wanted A Hit were early highlights whilst the debut album's thunderously thrilling Trials And Tribulations had the 20,000 strong throng frugging away furiously. Sterling new tracks Call The Police, Tonite and Emotional Haircut all hit the bullseye before the evergreen Losing My Edge reminded me - and everyone else it seemed - why I fell in love with them in the first place. If it's true that it was a conversation with the late David Bowie that formulated the idea in Murphy's head to get the band back together, then it was one of the greatest things The Dame did in his final days. The last song of the night is, as it always is, the centerpiece of 2007's gargantuan 'Sounds Of Silver' album - the stunning All My Friends. As the beats ebb and flow and the emotion and poignancy of the lyrics kick in, people are hugging each other and climbing onto each other's shoulders as that astonishing refrain kicks in: "Where are your friends tonight? Where are your friends tonight?" Well James, if you're reading this, you had 20,000 friends there that night so come back soon, ok?
2: ROLLING BLACKOUTS COASTAL FEVER
4/9 The Lexington 12/9 The Moth Club
Holy crap, this was an ABSOLUTE blast. In April of this year, I was stopped in my tracks after stumbling across an EP by a young band from Australia called, deep breath, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever. The French Press EP was - and still is - one of the finest collections of songs I've ever had the complete and utter fortune to hear. 6 tracks of gorgeously summery jangle-pop and shuffling indie, dripping with Beatles and Velvets influences - as well as bands like The Feelies, Orange Juice, The Go-Betweens and Pavement. Every track is a winner - all wheat, no chaff. They then went and did it again in August with the 7-track Talk Tight EP, which if anything, might be even better. 13 tracks and not one duff moment. Could they pull it off live? Their first London date at The Lexington sold out pretty sharpish, so two more nights - at The Old Blue Last and The Moth Club - were promptly added. I was lucky enough to bag tickets for two of the gigs and if I could have made the third, I would have done. I have since decided that I will attempt to see this lot every time they play London. They're THAT good. Comprising three singer/songwriters - guitarists Fran Keaney, Joe White and Tom Russo - as well as bassist Joe Russo and drummer Marcel Tussie, RBCF amble on stage at each gig emanating chilled vibes and a laid-back demeanour. Very Australian. They plug in, give each other a nod, and we're off. Pretty much all of both EPs were aired at both nights - along with a brace of new songs and an Orange Juice cover. With Keaney on acoustic guitars, flanked by White and Russo on electrics, there was a glorious shuffling groove to proceedings and highlights were plentiful. Clean Slate, Sick Bug, Julie's Place, Wide Eyes, Fountain Of Good Fortune. I've played these songs to death this year and they're still just as thrilling and enjoyable as they were when I first heard them. By the end of each gig - after a rip-roaringly stupendous French Press - the band are sweating through their shirts and the crowds weren't that far behind. One chap next to me even kissed each member of the band full on the lips as they clambered off stage. Tremendous. I don't remember having this much fun watching a new band since I first saw the Pixies almost thirty years ago. A bold claim for sure, but I'm sticking with it. WHAT a band.
1: METALLICA 24/10 The O2
No surprise here, eh? My most recent post before this one was a fulsome and full-blown lowdown on the return to London of The Bay Area Thrash Titans and The Kings Of Metal, so if you fancy it, dive on into that post and see what I thought. Suffice to say, my feelings haven't changed a jot which is why my favourite live experience of the year involved me spending three hours backstage at the Whiplash VIP Experience before heading into the pit surrounding the stage and waiting patiently for James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Kirk Hammett and Rob Trujillo to stride on stage and peel my face off. Musically speaking, of course.
Hardwired pummeled, Fade To Black glistened, Atlas Rise thundered, Moth Into Flame swaggered, For Whom The Bell Tolls exploded, Halo On Fire scorched, Seek And Destroy rattled, One shivered, Spit Out The Bone shattered, Sad But True blasted, Master Of Puppets screamed, Nothing Else Matters cradled and Enter Sandman detonated. Best live band on the planet.
So that's your lot. A pretty solid year it has to be said. Roll on 2018, I say!
