(October, November, December 2019)
First up in October was a most welcome return to UK shores for long-lost jangle heroes The Dream Syndicate. Back in the mid-80's - along with bands like The Bangles and The Rain Parade - The Dream Syndicate were progenitors of the short-lived Paisley Underground scene, a group of bands who were very much in thrall to the melodic folk-rock sounds of the mid-60's made famous by The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield. The Bangles were the big breakout stars of this scene, but only after they'd softened the edges and embraced a more commercial rock sound. It never really happened for any of the other bands unfortunately, and even after a really rather fabulous bunch of albums (including the sublime debut 'The Days Of Wine And Roses') The Dream Syndicate split and went their separate ways in 1988. Frontman Steve Wynn carried on with a fitful solo career before reforming the band 6 years ago. The comeback album - the splendid 'How Did I Find Myself Here? - was released in 2017 and made my Top 50 Albums list on this very blog. Last year's 'These Times' was possibly even better, fusing the classic jangle-infused pop smarts of their early records with a more modern alt-country slant that works wonderfully. So, to say this brief London pit-stop on a short European tour to promote the album was long-awaited was something of an understatement. A thoroughly rammed Scala in Kings Cross is full to bursting with predominately gents of a certain age - bald pates and fulsome paunches the order of the day - when Wynn and his cohorts take to the stage and proceed to regale the faithful with excellent renditions of tunes old and new. Highlights were plentiful, but to these ears the chiming glory of classic tracks Halloween and When You Smile coupled with the dulcet harmonies and gnarly riffs of recent tunes such as Black Light, Put Some Miles On and the utterly tremendous Glide steal the show. Wynn is all smiles throughout and it's a real joy to see this very great band finally getting their dues. Top stuff.
There was room for a few more gigs in October with a storming return to the Big Smoke for the thunderously loud and fantastically hairy stoner-rock squad Black Mountain, who filled Highbury's Garage with a skin-peeling set of fan faves from all their albums, including a solid selection from their latest electronica-tinged prog-rock love letter 'Destroyer'. After that, a hardy handful of souls braved the wintry elements to spend an hour in the company of Oregon based nutjobs Weeed who turned up at their East London gig at Dalston's The Waiting Room having had the bulk of their gear stolen in Europe a few days before. Undaunted, this exciting experimental quintet of psych-rock enthusiasts borrowed what they could and put on a sterling show of loose jams, frazzled vibes and jazz-inflected grooves. Tremendous, frankly.
Lastly in October, there was an absolute humdinger of a gig at the venerable old Hammersmith Apollo when 80's goth-rock legends The Cult returned to the capital as part of their Sonic Temple 30 worldwide jaunt. As the name of the tour suggests, it's now been three full decades since vocalist Ian Astbury and guitar god Billy Duffy released the globe-straddling 'Sonic Temple' album. Produced by uber-knob twiddler Bob Rock, 'Temple' was a blatant attempt by the band to break America and sell bucketloads of units. Previous album 'Electric' had come close but this was the one to open the floodgates. Rock, who went on to produce Aerosmith, Motley Crue, Metallica, Bryan Adams and Bon Jovi, added the radio-friendly sheen whilst Astbury and Duffy came up with possibly the most commercial-sounding bunch of songs they'd ever written.
The result was exactly what the band wanted: massive sales, Grammy awards and gargantuan tours with all the rock and roll excess they desired. It couldn't last of course, and the following couple of albums were damp squibs of the highest stripe. The Cult have continued off and on ever since though, with both members remaining in America although, if recent interviews are any indication, only really getting together to record music every few years. Their most recent opus - 2016's 'Hidden City' - was a splendid return to form, and the group have been sporadically touring ever since. Last year saw the release of a huge 'Sonic Temple' box-set to celebrate it's anniversary, and this tour saw the band filling out huge venues across the planet. I hadn't seen The Cult live for a very long time indeed - 1993 if memory serves - so I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I needn't have worried. What a show this was. With Duffy and the rest of the band firing on all cylinders, Astbury surprised the hell out of me with his remarkable vocals sounding stronger and fuller than ever before and, for once, he toned down his usual 'wild man of the Native American heartland' shtick and let the music do the talking. All the hits were aired of course, with mid-80's stompers like Love Removal Machine, Rain, L'il Devil and Wild Flower raising the roof and forcing grizzled, black-clad audience members old and new to jettison their seats and wave their arms around furiously. Both Astbury and Duffy seem truly humbled to be playing such a classic venue - more than once Astbury talks of seeing bands here himself back in the day and wondering if he would ever grace the stage himself. There is the addition of a four-strong string quartet for the lovely Edie (Ciao Baby) and Soul Asylum, and the lesser-known 'Temple' tracks like American Horse, Automatic Blues and Sun King sound fantastic with Duffy's six-string work in particular a real stand-out. The gig ends, as all gigs by The Cult should end of course, with a rip-roaring full-blown She Sells Sanctuary which is still one of the finest and most downright exciting goth-rock indie-disco bangers of all time in my opinion. The band leave to a rapturous standing ovation and I for one won't be leaving it so long to see them next time.
Into November then, and it was off to The Roundhouse in Camden for a relaxed evening of mellow trip-hop inspired beats and hushed acoustic lovliness from Cornish-born singer songwriter Fin Greenall and his Fink collective who, very quietly, have been getting bigger and bigger with each album. This was their largest ever London gig and Greenall was undeniably over the moon about it. The current Fink album - last summer's gorgeous 'Bloom Innocent' - is another fabulous collection of relaxed electronica and sweeping soundscapes all pinned together with Greenall's soulful vocals and chilled guitar playing.
The live Fink experience beefs things up with sweeping strings and extra percussion and focuses mainly on the last three albums with the bulk of the new record getting an airing. Long-term fans such as myself are honoured with the wonderful Warm Shadow, This Is The Thing and the truly heart-stopping Yesterday Was Hard On All Of Us whilst the newer tunes like Once You Get A Taste and the extraordinary jazz-fuelled glory of I Just Want A Yes are high points of the set. As a band, Fink should be huge commercially, and Greenall himself should be far more well-known as a songwriter but the music business is a strange beast and so artists of his caliber often slip through the cracks. A real shame as this was just splendid.
The following night I was just down the road at The Lexington in Angel for a thrillingly exciting night of old-school driving indie-rock with the fabulously monikered Desperate Journalist. A four-piece from London who have released 3 albums of spiky post-punk and rollicking jangle-infused indie, the band have been knocking on the door of the big time for a little while now. This gig was a celebration of their early record label Fierce Panda so was a little smaller than what they're currently used to and as such was a real thrill for fans old and new. With vocalist Jo Bevan on fearsome form, the group powered through tunes from all their releases with the likes of Hollow, Why Are You So Boring and It Gets Better standing out. Cracking stuff.
I was on my way back to Hammersmith a few days later for a last-minute trip out to see one of my favourite synth-pop bands of the 80's, Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark. Back in my early secondary school days, during that incredibly exciting period of pop music between 1980 and 1985, OMD were as good as anybody when it came to gloriously catchy, three-minute pop nirvana. Garnering 18 Top 40 hits - 7 of which were Top 10 - as well as breaking America, the core OMD duo of Liverpudlians Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphries were just as successful - if not arguably more so - than the majority of their more well-known contemporaries. Splitting at their peak in 1988 after coming to blows over musical differences, the band were almost immediately replaced in the public's affections by two bands who were no doubt hugely influenced by them in the Pet Shop Boys and Erasure. McCluskey returned on his own in the early 90's and bagged a massive worldwide hit in Sailing On The Seven Seas, but soon disappeared again only to return as the songwriting force behind - of all people - late 90's girl group shams Atomic Kitten. With the huge preponderance of classic band reformations over the last decade or so it was only a matter of time perhaps that McCluskey and Humphries would bury the hatchet and get back together and so it proved in 2006 with a short reunion tour. Fortunately for fans of the group, the tour was a success - both personally and professionally - and the duo have since recorded three excellent albums of new material. Last year though, saw the 40th anniversary of their first ever single Messages, and so a huge Greatest Hits tour was announced.
Next up in November was a jaunt down to Shoreditch and the Rich Mix arts centre for an appointment with a band who - along with Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever - are my favourite group around at the moment. Mancunian three-piece W.H. Lung - named after a Chinese cash and carry of all things - released their quite extraordinary debut album 'Incidental Music' last spring and promptly tore my head off. A monumental melange of sweeping synths, thunderous dance beats, Krautrock-inspired grooves, early 90's Manc swagger, sublime production and hip-shaking pop melodies, this incredible record jumped straight to the top of the No Static At All Top 50 pile and hasn't even come close to dropping off its perch. As good as debut albums get, quite frankly. So, I was more than just a little excited to catch the band for the first time on stage. And man alive, what an astonishing gig it was. With core members Tom S on guitar and Tom P on synths - abbreviated surnames are key to this bunch it seems - augmented with an extra guitarist and live drummer, singer and frontman Joseph E patrols the stage in t-shirt, slacks and bare feet, coming across like a mix of Jim Morrison, John Lydon and Bez. As the hypnotic beats ebb and flow around him, Joseph - frequently stabbing away at a small keyboard himself - jumps around, rolls all over the floor and launches himself into the sold-out 300-strong throng of disciples in front of him. Vocally, he's on point throughout - despite his exertions - and the likes of the utterly magnificent Simpatico People, Want and the tremendously life-affirming Inspiration (song of the year as far as I'm concerned) sound just as gargantuan as they do on record. Imagine LCD Soundsystem, New Order, Happy Mondays, Talking Heads and Can getting together in a New York basement club, taking acid and dancing all week and you'd still only be about halfway close to this one.There were folks around me of all different ages, stripes and hues who - as one - let caution be damned and threw themselves into the melee with relish, dancing as if no-one was watching and having an absolute ball. This was as thrilling as gigs get to be honest. Truly, truly magnificent.
To end things off in 2019, there was just time for a bunch of gigs by some full-blown, dyed-in-the-wool No Static At All faves. First up, Scotland's finest rock and roll party animals Primal Scream scaled down their latter-day arena-sized touring machine for an up close and personal trawl through all the hits at The Forum in scuzzy old Kentish Town. With Bobby Gillespie - still rail thin and sporting a glorious fuchsia pink suit - leading proceedings and coming across like a modern-day speed-fuelled preacher at the front of the stage, long-standing partner in crime Andrew Innes on guitar took charge of the musical side of things and turned the two-hour set into a rug-cutting, glass-raising party. Loaded, Come Together, Rocks, Higher Than The Sun, Country Girl, Movin On Up. What more could you ask for? Fantastic.
Then, at a heavily over-subscribed Brixton Academy, London-based synth-pop indie trio White Lies celebrated the tenth anniversary of their classic debut album 'To Lose My Life' by playing the whole thing in full, along with a selection of other classics. White Lies have never really broken through from cult faves to big-hitters so it was heart-warming to see so many people turn out over two sold-out nights in the middle of December for these gigs. All 5 of the band's albums are worth listening to - last year's self-titled fifth effort was particularly strong - but that first album will always be their calling card. Tunes like Death, Fairwell To The Fairground and the terrific title track still sound huge to this day and had this extremely hot, sweaty and very well refreshed crowd bellowing along lustily.
Two days later, at the rather odd choice of venue in The Barbican, early 90's shoegaze heroes Ride put in an excellent performance as part of their tour for their very fine new album 'This Is Not A Safe Place'. Since their reformation 6 years ago, the Oxfordian quartet of Andy Bell, Mark Gardner, Steve Queralt and Loz Colbert have not put a foot wrong as far as I'm concerned. Greatest hits tours, album in full shows, two marvellous new albums and - splendidly - a lot more commercial fortune than they garnered back in the day. This was the sixth time I'd seen them since they got back together, and it was another sterling show from a group of lifelong friends who have hit upon a really sweet spot and know exactly where they're going musically. They were clever enough to get over the 'fully seated' atmosphere of the venue by playing 1992's classic banger Leave Them All Behind second song in, and I don't think anyone sat back down for the rest of the gig. Songs old and new melded together perfectly with early gems like Taste and Drive Blind sitting together seamlessly with ace new tunes like Jump Jet, Future Love and the incendiary sonic assault of Kill Switch. 1990's Vapour Trail is still their jewel in the crown though and tonight - as Bell and Gardner's guitars jostle and joust with each other and those cerebellum-caressing guitar frills rolled around The Barbican's rafters - I was reminded yet again why I love this band so much.
Finally in 2019, there was just enough time for me to engage in an audience with The Grizzled Godfather Of Grunge himself - the mighty Mark Lanegan. Hitting Camden's Roundhouse on an exceedingly chilly Tuesday evening the week before Christmas, legendary grump Lanegan put on his festive Santa hat and not only regaled his faithful following with a hefty swathe of his latest opus 'Somebody's Knocking' but also cherry-picked from most of his recent output, going right back to 2004's 'Bubblegum'. With his shit-hot band of dark and doomy desperados on resplendent form throughout, Lanegan was - as usual - in excellent voice from first to last with his hulking baritone growling away through the electronica-tinged proto-blues of his recent run of albums. Night Flight To Kabul and Disbelief Suspension from the new album stood out, as did the fantastic Beehive and Nocturne from 2017's 'Gargoyle' album. And as much as I love his solo work - especially the magisterial Ode To Sad Disco from 2012 which was performed tremendously on this occasion - my heart will always be with his early 90's recordings with lost grunge pioneers Screaming Trees. So, I was joyfully bowled over by legendary nostalgia refusenik Lanegan returning for the encore and performing a bunch of songs that he recorded before his solo career really took off: Hanging Tree from his time in Queens Of The Stone Age, Revival from his collaboration with Soulsavers and - glory be! - the masterful Gospel Plow from arguably the finest Screaming Trees album 'Dust'. A really rather fabulous early Xmas present!
There you have it then. Part 3 of my look back at the best gigs I attended during 2019. As is traditional of course, I've pored over all of the aforementioned posts to whittle everything down to a Top Ten. So, without anymore further ado, here lies The No Static At All Top Ten Gigs Of 2019!
10: PIXIES (Alexandra Palace)
9: EMBRACE (The Roundhouse)
8: NEIL YOUNG (Hyde Park)
7: ENDLESS BOOGIE (Oslo, Hackney)
6: ROLLING BLACKOUTS COASTAL FEVER (Village Underground)
5: THE CULT (Hammersmith Apollo)
4: STRAND OF OAKS (Omeara)
3: METALLICA (Twickenham Stadium)
2: GREEN MAN FESTIVAL (Crickhowell, Wales)
1: W.H. LUNG (Rich Mix)
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