2017: THE YEAR IN MUSIC - LIVE!!!

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.

October brought even more marvellous musical moments as flame-haired chanteuse Tori Amos brought her Native Invader tour to the Royal Albert Hall and early 90s politico funk rockers Living Colour returned from the wilderness to promote their new album 'Shame' at the University Of London Student Hall. Decent gig but dreadful venue. Also returning to the fray were 90s shoegazy dream-poppers Slowdive, whose first album in 22 years - also called 'Slowdive' - was a wonderful surprise. Their triumphant headline gig at The Roundhouse was warm, fuzzy and a real Proustian rush of loveliness. Finally in October, I spent All Hallow's Eve at one of my favourite venues - The Borderline - to witness one of the surprise gigs of the year. BNQT came together in 2016 when Eric Pulido of wondrous pastoral folkies Midlake, hooked up with Jason Lytle of Grandaddy and Ben Bridwell of Band Of Horses with a view to recording some tracks. The resulting sessions led to a splendid album - released in April of this year - which also featured our very own Fran Healy from Travis and Alex Kapranos from Franz Ferdinand. The album itself was a truly life-affirming confection of jangly folk, woozy Americana and off-kilter indie but, due to the disparate talents involved, I wasn't expecting anything but the basics at the gig. Magnificently however, all the personnel involved made the trip - with the exception of Bridwell who was touring the States - and the small but thoroughly enthusiastic throng were treated not only to the bulk of the album, but also Midlake classics Roscoe and Head Home, Travis standards Why Does It Always Rain On Me and Driftwood, Grandaddy's AM 180, and a truly fantastic run through Franz Ferdinand's Take Me Out. An absolute blast. There was just time in late November for a splendid evening of world music fusion as Afro Celt Sound System and The Dohl Foundation faced off at The Barbican, and then Robin Pecknold and his Fleet Foxes compadres returned after a six-year hiatus to sell out two nights at Brixton and celebrate the success of their mighty third album 'Crack-Up'. I fell in love with this band within seconds of hearing their 'Sun Giant' Ep in 2008, and my feelings haven't changed since. The Brixton gig was a wonder to behold as the bands keening three-part harmonies and chiming, janglesome curlicues filled the room. And if there is a better song out there from the whole modern-day folk explosion than Mykonos, I've yet to hear it. Spellbinding stuff.

Smack dead in the middle of all this glorious gigular activity was, of course, the festival season. I've missed out on going to a big festival for the last few years but I made up for it in August by 'getting it together in the country' and driving down to the Brecon Beacons for the truly fabulous Green Man Festival. I wrote about this magnificent event in great detail a few posts back, so if you haven't done so already, take some time and have a little read why don't you? The musical treats on offer were quite something and the sets from Oh Sees, Liars, Circulus, Jon Hopkins, Ride, Angel Olsen and the bonkers Sleaford Mods are still seared into my synapses.

  

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.

The whole evening itself took me right back to my own misspent youth and all of those illegal raves in the Surrey countryside that I frequented in the late 80's. Opening proceedings with Lush and Impact was the perfect double whammy from the brothers, who - bedecked as usual with their torchlight headbands - continued over the course of two hours to, quite frankly, fry my brain with their thumping beats, scorching light show, and general 'throw your hands in the air like you just don't care' vibe. A final salvo of Halcyon And On, Belfast, The Box and the evergreen Chime was proof, if any were needed, that Orbital are the premier British electronica act of the last thirty years. Bangin'.

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!

LIVE REVIEW: METALLICA O2 ARENA 24/10

The return of heavy metal behemoths Metallica to the UK is always cause for celebration here at No Static Towers, and their two sold out dates at the O2 Arena earlier this week were always going to be a monumental highlight of this year's gigular activity and a strong contender for live music event of the year. Indeed, after breaking the venue's capacity record at Sunday night's concert, the anticipation for Tuesday's gig was sky-high as I boarded the tube to North Greenwich. Riding high on the huge critical and commercial acclaim afforded to last years Hardwired....To Self-Destruct opus, Metallica are back on their A-Game and reviews from the first tranche of dates from the huge, universe-straddling WorldWired Tour have been uniformly positive. They may not quite be as spectacularly tremendous as they were in their late 80's and early 90's pomp, but it's fair to say that the embarrassing nadir of the almost unlistenable farrago of 2001's St. Anger is but a distant memory.
Realising that not only am I not getting any younger but that also the band themselves have all seen better days, I decided to push the boat out this time round - just in case this turns out to be their last visit to Europe - and treated myself and my much better half to the full-on Metallica VIP Experience. Arriving a few hours early, we were treated to an exclusive stroll around the Sanitarium Museum, chock full of Metallica exhibits such as gold and platinum discs, Grammy awards, posters, flyers, lyric books, photos, stage outfits and all kinds of other splendid artefacts. There was also a whole area devoted to instruments from the band's stash - featuring a full size drum kit and guitars aplenty which the braver souls in the room were able to pick up and play. Along with free food, drink and merchandise, this was the perfect way to start proceedings. After a couple of hours of pure, unadulterated Metallica indulgence, we were led past the queuing throngs outside the venue - normal wristbands for these proles - and allowed to pick and choose our spot down by the stage, which for this tour is a parallelogram-shaped affair in the centre of the arena, allowing for a perfect view wherever you may be situated. Then it was just a matter of waiting, and after a slightly ropey support slot from trying-ever-so-hard Norwegian prog-metallers Kvelertak, the lights darkened at around 8:45 and - like the beginning of every Metallica gig before this one - the epic sound of Ennio Morricone's Ecstasy Of Gold, otherwise known as the theme from The Good, The Bad And The Ugly, filled the arena. Within minutes, the boys were on stage and ready to rock.

The Bay Area thrash kings have been through a lot during their 36 years together, and their journey from pimple covered Diamond Head wannabes to the biggest metal band in the world has not been without trials, tribulations and traumas. The tragic death of original bassist Cliff Burton in 1986 in a coach crash whilst the band were touring Europe was undoubtedly the lowest point in their lives. There was also the acrimonious departure of Burton's replacement Jason Newsted in 2001, the less than stellar attempt to fit in with the post-grunge metal scene in the mid-90's with the Load/Reload albums, the failed attempt to battle music sharing site Napster, as well as the difficult to watch Some Kind Of Monster documentary that showed the band in a complete state of disrepair as they struggled with various demons. Throw in the aforementioned St. Anger situation, and the recent turnaround in the band's stock has been nothing short of astonishing. As if to prove the point, the reaction from tonight's crowd as James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Kirk Hammet and relative new boy Rob Trujillo take to the stage is as raucous as anything I've ever heard. The band look lean, mean and fighting fit and immediately launch into Hardwired's pummeling title track. With a hook to die for and a chorus for the ages ("We're so fucked, shit outta luck - Hardwired to self destruct!") it's the perfect start. What follows is a two and a half hour masterclass that shows why Metallica are still head and shoulders above every other metal band out there. To be honest, on this showing, I'd put them above any other arena-sized act on the planet. A healthy portion of the latest album is aired, with Atlas Rise! and Now That We're Dead standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of classic early cuts Seek And Destroy and For Whom The Bell Tolls during the early stages. There was an incendiary version of 1984's suicide anthem Fade To Black which came across as nothing more than a religious experience, as well as a frankly barnstorming run through the utter genius that is Halo On Fire. Midway through and I may have been levitating. 

The staging was a sight to behold too, with giant cubes suspended above the band that rose and fell depending on what song was being played. Each cube turned into a 6-sided television screen showing videos and footage of the band from throughout their career, as well as news footage of war, death and destruction. Standard Metallica fare, then. One of the highlights of the stage show was during Moth Into Flame when, seemingly from out of nowhere, a swarm of remote controlled glowing moth like structures floated up into the arena and around the stage. I looked for wires or handlers but saw nothing - so hats off to the folks behind that little stunt. The band themselves were in splendidly high spirits and well on form musically - Ulrich pounding away like a man 30 years his junior on his revolving drum kit, while the other three patrolled and prowled the stage sharing the 8 microphones dotted about so that the whole arena got a good look at all of them. Hammett's guitar playing has never been better and his solo at the end of Halo On Fire had me punching the air in glee. Trujillo is a wonderful addition to the band's ranks, bounding around like a panther and at one stage taking the stage by himself to perform a lovely bass solo tribute to his predecessor Burton. But it's Hetfield who runs the show here. Whereas once upon a time he came across as arrogant, cocky and unwilling to endear himself to his audience, these days the front-man is far more aware of his position as the focal point of the Metallica live experience. Laughing and joking with the crowd, paying tribute to Amy Winehouse and blowing kisses to all and sundry, tonight he's also a revelation vocally with his performance during the mighty Sad But True close to magnificence. 

Ending the main set - and crashing through the curfew - with cranium-rattling renditions of stone-cold classics One and Master Of Puppets, the quartet returned for an encore of the hits. Time - and constant radio plays - may have dulled the impact slightly of Nothing Else Matters and Enter Sandman, but watching the band perform them live whilst twenty odd thousand sweaty grinning souls punch the air in unison as fireworks exploded around them, tongues of flame burst forth from the stage floor and huge circle pits erupted in the crowd - well, it doesn't get much better quite frankly. Metallica are back, and back where they belong - at the very apex of the metal mountain. Now then, where's my Voltarol.....

SETLIST;

Hardwired
Atlas, Rise!
Seek And Destroy
Leper Messiah
Fade To Black

Now That We're Dead
Confusion
For Whom The Bell Tolls
Halo On Fire
Last Caress
Creeping Death
Moth Into Flame
Sad But True
One
Master Of Puppets

Spit Out The Bone
Nothing Else Matters
Enter Sandman


       

VIDEO OF THE WEEK: TOM PETTY & THE HEARTBREAKERS 'DON'T COME AROUND HERE NO MORE'

Another week goes by and another legend passes over to that great rock and roll gig in the sky. Regular readers of this here little blog will know that I witnessed Tom Petty and his glorious Heartbreakers do the business big time in Hyde Park during the summer. He was on fine form - seemingly hale, hearty and full of beans. His death - at 66 from a cardiac arrest - is a real kick in the teeth for lovers of classic American rock. So many fantastic songs and videos to choose from too, but this one has always been a firm fave of mine. Rest in peace Mr Petty - and thank you.

VIDEO OF THE WEEK: HUSKER DU "I DON'T WANT TO KNOW IF YOU ARE LONELY"

Another tribute video this week, as yesterday we sadly lost the mighty Grant Hart - drummer and co-vocalist with the HUGELY influential Minneapolis power-pop/punk trio Husker Du. One of those bands that garnered far more critical acclaim in their hey-day than record sales, the band - comprising Hart, fellow vocalist and guitar whizz Bob Mould, and bassist Greg Norton - released tons of glorious records throughout the 80's before imploding in an acrimonious frenzy made up of creative differences, bitterness and drugs. Lots of drugs. Norton left the music biz for good, Mould went on to forge a successful solo career - as well as hitting big with another trio in the splendid Sugar - whilst Hart tried again with Nova Mob and various solo projects. It never quite happened again for him unfortunately, and his battles with drink, drugs and depression were legion. His death - from liver cancer at the far too young age of 56 - was not really a surprise, sadly. He did though, leave us - among many other fine tunes - this sublime 3 minutes of grungy, pop/punk perfection.

RIP fella. 

GADEWCH I GYMRU GRYNU! *
THE GLORY OF THE GREEN MAN FESTIVAL
*(Let Wales Shake!)

The Green Man Festival - situated in the beautifully bucolic Brecon Beacons in South Wales - first took place in 2003, and after being held for a couple of years at Baskerville Hall near Hay-On-Wye, it was moved to the nearby Glanusk Estate near Crickhowell. One of the largest privately owned estates in Wales, Glanusk has been owned by the same family since 1826 and can be hired out throughout the year for all kinds of events - The Green Man being just one. The estate covers thousands of acres of stunning countryside including the breathtaking Sugar Loaf Mountain - at the foot of which sits the centerpiece of the festival, The Mountain Stage. The festival itself was brought into being in 2003 by former musicians Daniel and Josephine Hagan who then partnered up with Fiona Stewart in 2005. Since 2011, Stewart and her own company have been in sole charge of running the festival. Over the years, the organisers have been lucky enough to have had a huge range of stupendous artists gracing their stages such as Robert Plant, The Flaming Lips, Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes, Wilco, Jose Gonzalez, Van Morrison, The National, Super Furry Animals, Battles, F*** Buttons, Richard Thompson, Grizzly Bear, Animal Collective, Bat For Lashes, Mogwai, Band Of Horses, Patti Smith, Leftfield, Midlake, Mercury Rev, The Waterboys, St Vincent, Television, Belle And Sebastian, John Cale, Warpaint, Laura Marling and Grandaddy. And, but of course, many, many more. This year's event was The Green Man's 15th birthday and, as you would expect, the Festival team had pulled out all the stops in regard to their line-up - finally managing to bag PJ Harvey for the Sunday night headline slot, who was someone they'd been trying to get since the GM's inception. Verily, this was going to be a wondrous weekend.

This was my 6th Green Man, but due to a varying confluence of trials and tribulations, I hadn't managed to attend for a few years, so the anticipation as myself and my two companions drove down to the site on the Thursday was huge. Upon arrival there was a rather lengthy and tortuous trawl through the far-reaches of the site to get to a suitable camping spot. Since our last visit, the capacity for the festival has risen to 20,000 so the camping areas are now much, much larger and the journey there is far, far longer. By the time we'd finally set up tents and collapsed into our camp chairs, it certainly felt like it. However, beers were bought and quickly consumed and just like that - we were at the races. First up, a tour of the site itself. The festival is made up of an ever-increasing number of stages, not all of them music-based. The Mountain Stage is where the larger acts ply their trade across the four days, but there is also the Far Out Tent and Walled Garden for the majority of the rest of the bands and artists performing. The Chia Wallahs tent is a haven for the more jazz, funk and soul orientated aficionados, and then there is the usual set of stages devoted to comedy, literature and talks. Green Man also dedicates a large section of it's site to science, spiritual pursuits and workshops with the Eintsein's Garden, Nature/Nurture and Fortune Falls areas. Plus, of course, there's a massive area for the kids - Little Folk - and a cinema tent. Indeed, if music isn't your thing, you could feasibly spend the entire four days not watching any bands at all and still not feel short-changed by the price of the ticket. And, in the middle of the site, is The Green Man himself. A giant man-made structure of every flammable substance you can name, his appearance changes from year to year and he watches over proceedings like a gargantuan, grass-covered Colossus Of Rhodes - before being burnt to a crisp at midnight on the Sunday night. Poor fella.

As fantastic as all the extra activities were, I was mainly here for the music and - as befitting a big birthday celebration - the acts on offer were top drawer and of the highest quality. Sifting through my GM programme and figuring out stage times and potential clashes was a morning ritual, and unfortunately did bring up some unavoidable conflicts. The problem with such a strong line-up I guess. So, with a heavy heart, this meant I missed out on acts like Pictish Trail, Yorkston/Thorne/Khan, Michael Kiwanuka, The Shins, St Etienne, Conor Oberst and - most distressingly of all - Saturday night's headliner Ryan Adams. Such is the way of festivals though, and I can't complain at all about the bands I did get to see and the tremendous fare they offered. 
Thursday evening kicked off with a superb set from Canadian jazz/electronica enthusiasts BadBadNotGood, who whipped the Far Out Tent's crowd into a frenzy with their heady stew of bleeps, beats and saxophones. But the big draw on Thursday were Ride who were basking in the praise bestowed upon their first album in 20 years - the really rather wonderful 'Weather Diaries'. Looking very much at home having reformed and buried hatchets, the Oxfordian shoegaze specialists put in a solid shift, mixing tracks from the new album with indie disco classics like Taste, Leave Them All Behind and the frankly magisterial Vapour Trail. What a start! To the bar, then.....
Friday began badly - a Welsh cider inflicted hangover. Fortunately, there's enough food options at Green Man to take the edge off. I plumped for a breakfast of veggie-based paella and felt all the better for it afterward. Across the weekend, the staggering array of edibles had my mouth salivating and my wallet weeping. My Saturday pie and mash was outstanding whilst my Sunday rotisserie chicken and potatoes was enough to make me want to bow down to the god of fowl. However, as it had been so many times before, my favourite foodstuff port of call was the tremendous Tea And Toast van. Doing exactly what it says on the tin, this fabulous little four-wheeler stayed open pretty much 24/7 and did me proud with it's vast array of hot beverages and bread-based scran, The cheesy Marmite baps in particular were an absolute godsend. As for booze, the world was your oyster. Beers and ciders aplenty of course - including an entire bar given over to local ales and scrumpy. Only for the brave to be honest. I instead plumped for Monkey Shoulder Bourbon and I don't really remember making such an inspired decision. Gorgeous stuff.

Back to the music though and Friday's highlights included some sparky and sprightly indie from gigglesome Spanish quartet Hinds, skyscraping psychedelic Americana from Lift To Experience and full-blown electronic stadium pop from headliners Future Islands - replete with frontman Sam Herring's unique 'death-metal dad dancing'. An acquired taste certainly, but one would have to have a hard heart indeed to begrudge this very odd little band their moment in the sun. Friday was all about Angel Olsen for me though - and as regular readers of this blog will know by now, I'm a huge fan. Her album from last year - 'My Woman' - was a thing of absolute wonder, and this year's festival circuit marks the last leg of Olsen and her band's touring schedule before she heads back home to - hopefully - start work on her next record. Her Friday night slot in the Far Out tent was another showcase for her sterling songcraft, compelling stage presence and brilliant vocal ability. All my faves were present and correct - Not Gonna Kill You, Shut Up And Kiss Me, Sister and Woman  - and by the end of their allotted hour, it was obvious that Olsen and her gang were having a whale of a time. Magnificent. 

Onto Saturday then and - fingers crossed and wood being knocked - the usual mixed-up micro climate of the Brecons had thus far kept us quite dry and warm. There were furrowed brows and portents of doom from some who insisted that at some point across the Saturday night/Sunday morning there would be a storm of biblical proportions, but by Saturday lunch-time those predictions were looking foolhardy. This in turn meant that the general vibe of the festival was one of extremely good cheer. Kids gamboled, teens frolicked and oldies plonked their arses in garden chairs and didn't move all weekend. What's up with that? Leave the chairs at home and have a wander around at least...
The reasonably dry weather meant me and my crew were able to chill out and park our bums on the banks of the main arena area and catch a bit of This Is The Kit - peddling a breezy, acoustic-based folk-pop confection - as well as the Grand Dame of British folk music in the form of 82 year old Shirley Collins. Famed for her significant contribution to the UK folk scene across the last 60 years - as well her travels around America in the late 50's recording traditional blues and folk songs with her then husband Alan Lomax - Collins came out of retirement last year and released the lovely Lodestar album. Her afternoon set was a glorious reminder of what music used to sound like in the days of yore, and with only a chair that she sat on throughout her set belying her age, Collins was in fine voice and even 'got down with the kids' by turning up with glitter all over her cheeks. Lambchop were next up on the main stage, but as much as I love them - and as splendid as their recent 'FLOTUS' album is - they were a bit lost in such a large space and even though they gave their all, there was an increasing sense of disenchantment from the audience as song after song blended into one another. A shame. There then followed a quick sprint to the Far Out tent to catch Australian industrial/punk rock kiddie-frighteners Liars - who were extraordinary. With frontman Angus Andrew howling into his mic whilst wearing a spectacularly ill-fitting wedding dress, the songs from excellent new album 'TFCF' were doom-laden and full of menace. Coming across at times like a John Carpenter soundtrack with a gun pointed at it's head, this was stunning stuff. Not just a weekend highlight, but a highlight of all my Green Man experiences. That good. But then Oh Sees turned up and all bets were off. Good lord, WHAT a set. Led by singer and guitarist John Dwyer, this Californian garage band have been churning out increasingly brilliant records for almost 20 years. Their current album - the astonishing 'Orc' - is their 19th, and there has been almost as many name-changes. Last year they were The Oh Sees, and this year they have jettisoned the definitive article. It hasn't made a jot of difference to their sound though - Dwyer and his latest bunch of oddballs have perfected their scuzzy, piledriving garage rock and added sweeping psych textures and motorik drone grooves into the mix as well to startling effect.

 Performing on stage with bassist Tim Hellman and drummers Dan Rincon and Paul Quattrone, the quartet are an absolute force of nature and one of the most exciting things I've ever witnessed. There's not a dry shirt in the house by the set's end and I defy anyone not to feel a Proustian rush of youthful vim and vigour when watching them. Absolutely phenomenal. I ended Saturday night wigging out in a dazed frenzy while the mighty Jon Hopkins hit the decks and regaled the Far Out throng with huge choons from his stunning Immunity album. Green Man was on a roll....

I was a tad delicate upon waking on the Sunday morning, but after a hearty breakfast and some hilarious medieval folk from long-lost London based folk weirdos Circulus, I was back on form. Norfolk's Wolf People did their crunchy Jethro Tull meets Led Zep thing to splendid effect as usual and then The Arch-Druid of Rock himself, Julian Cope, turned up with an acoustic guitar, a mellotron and a whole host of hilarious tales of his time at the rock and roll coalface and he was an absolute treat. Mixing recent songs with classics from right across his career - including a couple of Teardrop Explodes tunes - he regaled us with stories ranging from his disdain for former TE manager and KLF nabob Bill Drummond to how bad he still feels about the Teardrops not becoming as huge as they should have done. Great stuff.

Once Sunday afternoon kicked in though, that threatened storm from earlier in the weekend finally showed up and as if by magic, the site turned into a raging swamp. Running for cover into the Far Out, we caught a snatch of discordant art-pop from Field Music as well as bellowing, chest-thumping psych-folk from Richard Dawson. But the big draw was undoubtedly Sleaford Mods. Pulling in a crowd that weren't just sheltering from the rain and which was certainly large enough to have shoved the band up to main stage contenders - I did for a brief minute pity poor Conor Oberst who was down on The Mountain Stage in the swirling tempest and performing to a spartan crowd - the duo from Nottingham arrived on stage and did what they always do. Andrew Fearn opened his laptop, cracked open a bottle of beer and pressed a button on his keyboard. Minimalist electronic beats filled the tent and can't-take-your-eyes-off-him frontman Jason Williamson opened his mouth and spewed forth his latest collection of hilariously embittered diatribes against the government, working-class twats and anyone else who pisses him off quite frankly. They are, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the strangest success stories - not just of recent times - but in the history of the music business. And they are, also, just fantastic.

 After the Mods, it was a quick jaunt down to The Mountain Stage to catch West Country polymath and The Queen Of The Mercury Prize, PJ Harvey, bring proceedings to a close with her marvelous band and splendid selection of songs - mainly drawn from her last two albums - and prove that she was well worth all the effort the festival organisers put in to book her. A rambunctious run through 50 Foot Queenie was my personal highlight. A perfect finale.
The rain had eased off by this stage so the amassed throng - bar any early to bed types - made their way up to the Green Man area to watch the ceremonial burning of the big chap. There were druids and pagans and flaming torches and a huge firework display too, and it was all rather lovely. However, I'm not a young man any more and my sleeping bag was calling. Within minutes, I was asleep and - before I knew it - it was Monday lunch-time and we were driving back home. Once again, The Green Man Festival had been a roaring success - full of joy, wonder and bangin' tunes. In my view, it's the best festival out there and I'm overjoyed that it's gone from strength to strength over the years and reached it's fifteenth birthday in fine fettle and ready to push forward to the next stage. Happy Birthday Green Man - see you next year! 

      

VIDEO OF THE WEEK #3: LCD SOUNDSYSTEM "TONITE"

Sometimes, some ideas are just so perfect they make the universe a better place. And so it is with the gobsmacking return of James Murphy and his crew of electronica enthused art-rock disciples in LCD Soundsystem. After splitting the band at their peak 7 years ago, Murphy suddenly found himself writing and making music again. Worried that his legions of fans would be slightly narked at the idea of his band splitting up in a hail of glory only to reform again, Murphy was gloriously persuaded by the late and oh so very great David Bowie who told him that if the whole idea made him uncomfortable, then that is how it should be and he should just get on and do it. The utterly magisterial new album 'American Dream' is the result and this track is one of the highlights. Long may they reign.  

VIDEO OF THE WEEK #2: COURTNEY BARNETT & KURT VILE "OVER EVERYTHING"

Well this is just absolutely joyous. Aussie slacker princess Barnett - fresh from the success of her stellar Sometimes I Just Sit album from a couple of years ago - and US slacker don Vile - who never puts a foot wrong in my book - have teamed up for a new album due in October. This is exactly as you'd expect it to be and it's all the better for it. If you're not grinning from ear to ear by the time the dual guitar wig-out appears at the climax, then you're a fool. Fantastic. 

VIDEO OF THE WEEK #1: ST. VINCENT "NEW YORK"

Loads of magnificent music coming out at the moment and, wonderfully, a lot of it is from our friends across the Atlantic. St. Vincent - Annie Clark to her mum - is back with a new album soon, and this is the first taster from it. A much more subdued offering than her last record - not surprising perhaps considering her recent personal travails - and coupled with a really rather tremendous video, this is more proof - if any were needed - that Clark is one of the most interesting and unique talents out there.

WALTER BECKER R.I.P.

Sad news once again from the rock and roll firmament today, as I awoke to the news that Steely Dan linchpin Walter Becker had shuffled off this mortal coil at the far too young age of 67. In tandem with lead vocalist and fellow songwriter Donald Fagen, Becker - and his glorious guitar playing - helped to solidify Steely Dan's stature as one of THE great American bands. Famed for their unique style of melding classic rock textures, old school R&B, jazz and catchy pop and then binding it all together with an arch world view and lyrical style that could be described as dry, laconic, sardonic, or perhaps even smug, The Dan went on to sell 40m records during their imperial phase of the mid-70s. They also had hit singles by the bucket load, with tracks like Reelin In The Years, Do It Again, Rikki Don't Lose That Number and Peg nestling snugly atop charts worldwide and which are still staples of classic rock radio to this day. After a slightly acrimonious split in 1981, Becker and Fagen reconvened where they had left off and returned to the fray in 2001 with the splendid Two Against Nature album  which promptly won them a brace of Grammys. They were also inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in that same year. Over the last two decades, Becker and Fagen have been solidly touring with an ever-evolving troupe of shit-hot session musicians as well as popping out the odd release here and there - together as well as solo. The current incarnation of Steely Dan had been putting in the touring hours pretty heftily of late - with UK dates due in October - and Becker had recently missed a couple of concerts due to an unspecified illness. His death was announced late on Sunday night and Fagen had this to say of his long-time friend, musical partner and rock and roll compadre:

"Walter Becker was my friend, my writing partner and my band-mate since we met as students at Bard College in 1967. He was smart as a whip, an excellent guitarist and a great songwriter. He was cynical about human nature, including his own, and hysterically funny."

My own love affair with Steely Dan began way back in the mid-70s, in no small part thanks to my step-father's heaving collection of jazz and rock records. I can remember many a family holiday driving around the West Country with Dan albums like Countdown To Ecstasy, Can't Buy A Thrill and The Royal Scam on constant rotation on the battered old in-car tape player. The big hits resonated first off of course, with Do It Again in particular becoming a firm family favourite. As I got older, I would investigate the deeper album cuts with tracks like Bodhisattva, Razor Boy and Any Major Dude Will Tell You filtering their way into my cerebellum. It was obvious to me that this band - and I was unaware at the time that The Dan were really just a duo - were as good as The Beatles, Led Zep, Pink Floyd and all the other classic bands that kids who grew up in the 70s were supposed to be listening to. As I got older still, Becker and Fagen's lyrics began to resonate more with me. I was a sarcastic, cynical teenager and on first listen, it can seem that there is a large element of both in every Steely Dan song. However, the more you delve into the words, the more it becomes apparent that there is real heart and feeling within - you just have to get past the cast of creeps, low-life's and weirdos that populate each of their albums. Steely Dan have been an integral part of my music-listening experience for most of my life now. When I first left home at 18, one of the first CDs I bought to listen to in my pokey little bedsit was The Best Of Steely Dan. When I got into hip-hop in a big way in the late 80s, I was overjoyed to discover De La Soul sampling Steely's Peg on their masterful Three Feet High And Rising LP. Half of the reason I got into writers like William Burroughs and Jack Kerouac was due to the fact that Steely Dan had named themselves after a steam-powered dildo contraption in Burroughs' Naked Lunch. And finally, when I decided earlier this year to start writing this blog, there was only one choice when it came to naming it. As Steely Dan so wonderfully sang back in 1978:

"Give her some funked up music, she treats you nice.
Feed her some hungry reggae, she'll love you twice.
The girls don't seem to care tonight,
As long as the mood is right.
FM - No Static At All..."

R.I.P. Walter, and thank you for all the music.

My Steely Dan Top Twenty

20: Blues Beach
19: Jack Of Speed
18: Home At Last
17: Black Friday
16: Razor Boy
15: Sign In Stranger
14: Babylon Sisters
13: King Of The World
12: Deacon Blues
11: Rikki Don't Lose That Number
10: Hey Nineteen
9:  Reelin' In The Years
8:  Peg
7:  Do It Again
6:  Haitian Divorce
5:  Bodhisattva 
4:  Showbiz Kids
3:  My Old School
2:  Kid Charlemagne
1:  Black Cow
  

BITE-SIZED LIVE REVIEWS!!!

It's been a pretty hectic few months here at No Static Towers regarding live shows. We seem to be in one of those rather fabulous cycles where most of my favourite bands and artists are touring at the same time and subsequently hardly a week has gone by without at least one visit into our nation's capital to get hot and sweaty and fling myself around to some stupendous tunes. Long may it continue! Hopefully, this post will give you a little taste of some of the sights and sounds I've recently experienced.



ANGEL OLSEN: The Roundhouse 23/5

Angel Olsen's gig at The Roundhouse in Camden took place less than a week after the horrific terrorist attack in Manchester that claimed the lives of 22 innocent people - mainly children - who were enjoying a night out of music and fun. Understandably, there was a subdued atmosphere inside the venue - indeed, even though it was advertised as a sell-out, there were definitely a large number of no-shows by ticket holders who had obviously felt reluctant to venture out to a concert. I myself had thought twice about attending, but after some soul-searching, I decided I wasn't going to let the terrorists win and off I went. Coupled with the fact that Olsen's mighty third album - the astonishing My Woman - had nabbed the #1 spot in my Best Albums Of 2016 list, this meant that I happily found myself front and centre when Olsen and her tremendously attired band - all powder blue 50's style suits and Western ties - strode onto the stage and delivered a glorious hour and a half of magnificent songs. Olsen herself alluded to the previous week's atrocity and thanked us deeply for making the trip to see her. There was also a lovely touch from the band, with 22 light blue balloons tied to the stage equipment. Musically, My Woman was a quantum leap forward from Olsen's previous two records - as good as those were - and live on stage the songs are beefed up even more. The band were on fire, with guitarist Stewart Bronaugh on particularly smoking form. The scuzzy power-pop of Shut Up And Kiss Me was an early highlight, and the twin peaks of My Woman - Sister and Woman - were even more extraordinarily epic live than they are on record. And that's saying something. Olsen herself owned the stage, both mesmerisingly delicate on Unfucktheworld, and then forcefully rocktastic on the gargantuan tsunami of wonder that is Not Gonna Kill You. The latter's refrain of  "It's not gonna break you, it's just gonna shake you" was notably pertinent too, so soon after Manchester. Fantastic stuff from Olsen and the perfect example of music as catharsis.


BUFFALO TOM: Islington Assembly Hall 9/6

In 1992, Boston indie/grunge trio Buffalo Tom released their third album: the simply superb Let Me Come Over. It was their crowning achievement and the moment all their early potential and nascent songwriting chops coalesced and flowered into bloom. It stopped me in my tracks and blew my mind in 92, and it still does the same to me today. Subsequent releases never quite matched up - although they all have their stellar moments - and there has been long periods of inactivity since. However, to celebrate the 25th anniversary of that landmark record, the Tom have reconvened and made a short trip to Europe in early June for a handful of shows so they can play the whole damn album in full. Truly, my indie-rock chalice doth overflow! The night was split into two sets, the first being a trawl through the rest of the Tom catalogue. Singer and guitarist Bill Janovitz was on sparkling form with his repartee and self-deprecating humour, as he and his two cohorts - bassist Chris Colbourn and drummer Tom Maginnis - rattled through shoulda-been mega-hits like Summer, Sodajerk, Treehouse, Wiser and the monumentally moving I'm Allowed. The second half of the evening was the real meat on the bone though as - after a 15 minute break for refreshments and, for Janovitz at least, a fresh shirt - the guys returned and struck up the chords of LMCO's opening track, Staples. What followed was a gloriously life-affirming 45 minute Proustian rush of grungy riffs, powerhouse drumming, jangly chords and - during the spine-tingling chorus of Taillights Fade - grown men in the audience openly weeping. And that's without even mentioning the wonder that is Larry. Arguably their finest moment, and the song that should have made them superstars, the rendition of which on this particular evening had the entire room singing lustily into the air and throwing their arms around the person nearest to them. And considering the majority of the audience was made up of rotund and balding men of a certain age, it made for quite a spectacle. And it's a song about a lost cat! There was just time for a quick encore of early fave Birdbrain - as well as a new song from their forthcoming PledgeMusic funded new album - and then the Tom were gone. A wonderfully memorable night.


PROPHETS OF RAGE: Brixton Academy 13/6

Rage Against The Machine. Public Enemy. Cypress Hill. Three brilliant bands who straddled the worlds of rap and rock like gods in the late 80s and early 90s. Not only did they all make music of real power, but they all managed to successfully integrate politics and anti-fascist polemic into their music without the listener feeling as if they'd been bashed over the head by it. Rage Against The Machine however have not made a new album for almost two decades, and in recent years both Public Enemy and Cypress Hill have faded from view somewhat - both bands having been overtaken by a new breed of hip-hop artist. To be fair, the three musicians in RATM - guitarist Tom Morello, bassist Timmy C and drum titan Brad Wilk - did go on to record three excellent albums with the late and very much missed Chris Cornell as Audioslave. That band though, ceased to exsist 10 years ago, so a new outlet was needed. With Rage's vocalist Zack De La Rocha seemingly turning his back on music, Morello and co have teamed up with PE frontman Chuck D and Cypress linchpin B Real to form Prophets Of Rage. Originally put together last summer as a riposte to the ass-backwards idiocy of Donald Trump and his unstoppable rise to power, the response to the bands live shows was so ecstatic that it was an absolute no-brainer to continue on and tour the world - as well as making music - the first fruits of which will be with us in September on their self-titled debut album. In early June, the group played their first British show at the mad as a box of frogs mud-fest that is Donington's Download Festival, before a quick jaunt down the M1 to Brixton for this quite incendiary show. Correctly surmising that the sold-out crowd would quite happily wait for the new album before hearing most of it, only 3 new songs were aired so what we were treated to instead was a phenomenal 90 minute journey through the best of all three original band's back catalogue. B Real took on the lions share of De La Rocha's vocals on the majority of Rage tracks - his nasal whine bringing a new flavour to classics like Know Your Enemy, Take The Power Back, People Of The Sun and Bullet In The Head. Chuck D took centre stage for a storming rendition of Fight The Power - the lyrics of which are sadly just as pertinent today as they were in 1989. B Real and Chuck D also clubbed together for a rip-roaring medley of all their classic hip-hop joints - mashing up Insane In The Brain, Bring The Noise, I Aint Goin Out Like That and Welcome To The Terrordome to serious mosh-worthy effect.

 As a unit on stage, the sextet - with PE's DJ Lord spinning the beats at the back - are as exciting as anything I've witnessed, and tight as a gnat's chuff musically. Aside from the pummeling intensity though, there was time for reflection as midway through the set, Morello placed a mic stand in the centre of the Brixton stage before a lone spotlight picked it out. Then he, Timmy C and Wilk performed a beautifully understated instrumental version of Audioslave's Like A Stone - with Brixton's 5000 strong crowd taking over the vocals. As tributes to Chris Cornell go, it was one of the most hearfelt and moving. There was only one way to finish of course, with B Real introducing the final song with the words: "These are dangerous times, people. And dangerous times call for dangerous songs. This is the most dangerous fucking song in the world". To this day, Rage's 1992 masterpiece Killing In The Name still raises the hairs on the back of your neck and causes the adrenaline to flow. The Prophets Of Rage version is no different and the atmosphere inside Brixton - already at fever pitch - was amped up a thousand fold as the band built the song up to it's firestorm of a climax. Listening to 5000 people - mostly thirty and fortysomethings with kids, mortgages and the like - screaming "Fuck you I won't do what you tell me!" whilst raising both their middle fingers to the sky was quite simply hilarious, thrilling and magnificent in equal measure. I haven't had that much fun in ages.


GUNS N ROSES: Olympic Stadium 17/6

I last saw Guns N Roses live in 1993 at the soulless crater that is The Milton Keynes Bowl. They were at the arse-end of their imperial period - the stratospheric heights of the Appetite For Destruction days long behind them. The hubris of releasing two albums on the same day in 1991 - although both Use Your Illusion 1 and 2 contained superb moments - had damaged their credibility in a major way. Cool as fuck rhythm guitarist Izzy Stradlin had left the band - never to return - and bassist Duff McKagan was so wasted on heroin and booze that his pancreas eventually exploded. Mercurial frontman Axl Rose's massive ego had all but consumed him and his relationship with lead guitarist Slash had trickled to a non-existent puddle. That performance in 93 had it's moments, but there were technical issues, frosty onstage disagreements, and - as would become the norm in future years - Axl's timekeeping and reluctance to adhere to the curfew meant huge swathes of people left the venue halfway through the gig just to be able to get home. The possibility of the band living up to all the early predictions made of them and becoming the biggest band in the world seemed laughable. Over the following two decades, Rose would continue to alienate both Slash and McKagan to the point that they both left the band they founded. Rose limped on with a revolving bunch of hired hands and toured continuously - all the while sullying the legacy of a once great rock and roll band. Somewhere in the middle of all that, there was a new album in Chinese Democracy which unfortunately fell flat on it's face commercially. The likelihood of a full-blown reunion of the original line-up seemed as remote as Ed Sheeran writing a good song. Especially after Rose joined AC/DC last year for a huge world tour to replace Brian Johnson. However, rumours and rumblings of a rapprochement between the previously warring members started to circulate last summer and incredibly, almost in the blink of an eye, Rose, Slash and McKagan had made up and announced the huge Not In This Lifetime tour - so named after a quote from Rose a few years ago when asked if GnR would ever reform. Reviews of the US gigs were uniformly positive and the British leg arrived in June with two totally sold-out shows at Stratford's Olympic Stadium. The prospect of seeing three fifths of the original group was obviously something 160,000 stone-cold rock fans just couldn't pass up.

Rose has seemingly learnt from past mistakes and sticks to the allotted start time - the crowd can't quite believe their eyes when the band bound on stage at 8:00. Slash immediately catches the eye - his look hasn't changed in almost 30 years so why change now? Black leather trousers? Check. Sleeveless denim jacket? Check. Huge black top hat? Check. A mass of tumbling black curls obscuring his face? Check. Tremendous. On the other side of the stage stands Duff, who has absolutely no right to look as fit, healthy and downright cool as he does considering what he's been through. The rest of the band is made up of keyboardist Dizzy Reed - who's been with Rose off an on since 91, guitar prodigy Richard Fortus and powerhouse drum machine Frank Ferrer. The five of them together make a hell of a noise as they strike up the chords to It's So Easy - one of 8 tracks from Appetite given an airing on this particular evening. Rose himself then runs on stage, carrying a few extra pounds for sure and looking like a strange cross between Charlie Drake and Simon Cowell. But, wonders will never cease, he's waving and smiling and spends the rest of the night looking like he's having the time of his life. Vocally he still has it in spades too - his scream during a magisterial Welcome To The Jungle hitting all the notes it should and sounding even better than the recorded version. He puts in a monumental shift and is ably matched by his long-standing comrades. Slash's solos are a wonder to behold and Duff just exudes all kinds of poise and presence. The show is stuffed full of hits - You Could Be Mine is extraordinary and Sweet Child Of Mine almost brings the house down only to be beaten to the punch by a quite frankly stupendous 15 minute rendition of November Rain. Paradise City closes the show in astounding style, accompanied by fireworks, confetti and tens of thousands of punters screaming "TAKE ME HOOOOOOOME!!!!" as loud as their lungs will allow.

 There were niggles - way too many covers (although their version of Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun was lovely) and far too many costume changes for Rose which left Slash and Fortus to pick up the slack with a series of instrumental guitar wig-outs. I wouldn't have minded if Roses's outfits were worth the bother - there's probably a right time to wear a Union Jack cowboy hat and matching bandana, t-shirt and jacket combo - but it's more likely to be when you're celebrating the Queen's 100th birthday on The Mall. Not when you're trying to look good whilst fronting one of the great rock and roll bands. Sack the stylist, Axl. All in all though, the whole gig - all two and a half hours of it - was a fantastic surprise and a thoroughly decent way to spend a Saturday night. What happens now for GnR is anyone's guess. More touring? A new album maybe? I doubt even the band have any clue. For now though, this gig will do nicely.


TOM PETTY & THE HEARTBREAKERS: Hyde Park 9/7

The annual Barclaycard British Summertime Festival in Hyde Park is a strange beast. Massively corporate of course, with high-class bars and eateries dotted about the site and an overwhelming choice of ticket packages to choose from. It does however attract some of the finest musical guests. This year there were appearances from Green Day, The Killers, Phil Collins, Kings Of Leon, Pixies, Elbow, Tears For Fears and on the final day, a rare UK visit from Tom Petty and his Heartbreakers. Celebrating 40 years at the rock and roll coalface, this gig was advertised as a full-blown greatest hits extravaganza and that's exactly what a sell-out crowd of 60,000 die-hard fans got. For my money, Petty doesn't get enough recognition in this country for his stellar library of songs - he's revered back home in the States of course - so to see him and his band fill out such a huge venue was wonderfully heartening and thoroughly deserved. After a splendid support set from Fleetwood Mac doyen and modern day faery queen Stevie Nicks, Petty and co arrive on stage to rapturous acclaim. Kicking off with early stalwart Rockin Around With You - which Petty explains was the first song they ever played in England way back in 78 - the band deliver classic after classic, veering from slow, bluesy shuffles like Mary Jane's Last Dance to the pristine sheen of Free Falling and I Won't Back Down. Nicks reappears too for a perfectly serviceable run through her big hit duet with Petty from 1981 in Stop Draggin My Heart Around. There's also time for a splendid little acoustic section drawn solely from possibly the most underrated album in the Petty canon - 1994's Wildflowers. Petty still looks and sounds exactly like he's always done, that nasally drawl of his sounding perfect on a hazy summer's eve, whilst the Heartbreakers themselves are on marvelous form. Just like Bruce Springsteen and his E Street Band, this is a group of musicians who have played together for so long - they were Mudcrutch for a good few years before becoming The Heartbreakers - that they know exactly what each of them are going to do before they even do it. There's no chaff at all with these guys - it's all wheat. Guitarist Mike Campbell and keyboard maestro Benmont Tench deserve special mention. The set ends with early humdingers Refugee and the timeless American Girl - which has many of the punters, mostly of pensionable age, frugging furiously across the Hyde Park grass. Wonderful stuff.

Just a selection there of my recent gigular highlights. I also managed to fit in trips to see Oxford shoegaze legends Ride, performing songs from their first album in 20 years to an adoring throng. There was a splendid evening of gnarly, throbbing stoner rock with Arbouretum, an extraordinarily funksome and shirt-moisteningly groovy couple of hours in the company of Lettuce, as well as a night of sparkling Britpop era hits from Richard Ashcroft who filled out Brixton in July and mixed up his excellent new material with Verve classics like Bittersweet Symphony and The Drugs Don't Work. I was also lucky enough to catch The Grizzled Godfather Of Grunge himself - the mighty Mark Lanegan - who brought his current band to Camden in June and regaled us with a haunting selection of electronica-infused blues tunes. On top of all that, indie rock royalty came to Hyde Park the day before Tom Petty, when the peerless Pixies used their allotted hour as the support act for the Kings Of Leon (which must have been some kind of bizarre technical error, surely?) to remind everyone of their brilliance, rattling off barnstormer after barnstormer. Gouge Away, Debaser, Monkey, Bone Machine, Where Is My Mind, Hey, Wave Of Mutilation, Vamos. All present, correct and utterly stunning.

2017 only gets better though: Coming up on the horizon are gigs from Endless Boogie, The National, Sigur Ros, Suzanne Vega, Tori Amos, Living Colour, Beth Ditto, The Breeders, Grizzly Bear, Metallica, Steely Dan, Slowdive, Fleet Foxes, Sun Kil Moon, Mastodon, Dinosaur Jr and many more! And oh yeah, just the small matter of The Green Man Festival in Wales. Watch this space for a full report!  

HALF-TERM REPORT!!!
The 25 Best Albums Of The Year....So Far!

So, here we are then - just over 6 months into what is already a remarkably healthy year for new albums and what's the state of play? I have to admit that I've struggled to keep pace with the relentless torrent of startling new releases - and the second half of 2017 looks even stronger with new albums on the way from big-hitters like Arcade Fire, The War On Drugs, The National and the much anticipated resurrection of the magnificent LCD Sound System. As a little taster for my end of year Top 50 - which at this rate could easily grow into a Top 100 - here is my current pick of the best records released so far this year. If you haven't heard any of these, then rectify that oversight immediately!!! 
(And before I'm inundated with heated comments about the validity of my number one pick, I know it's only a mini-album but it's so frickin brilliant I really have no other choice....)

25: The Magpie Salute  'The Magpie Salute'
24: Nadia Reid  'Preservation'
23: Thurston Moore  'Rock N Roll Consciousness'
22: Robert Cray & Hi-Rhythm  'RC&HR'
21: The Afghan Whigs  'In Spades'
20: Slowdive  'Slowdive'
19: The Feelies  'In Between'
18: The Jesus And Mary Chain  'Damage And Joy'
17: Elbow  'Little Fictions'
16: Cigarettes After Sex  'Cigarettes After Sex'
15: Spiral Stairs  'Doris And The Daggers'
14: Jane Weaver  'Modern Kosmology'
13: Grandaddy  'Last Place'
12: Spoon  'Hot Thoughts'
11: Depeche Mode  'Spirit'
10: The Moonlandingz  'Interplanetary Class Classics'
9: Little Cub  'Little Cub'
8: Sun Kil Moon  'Common As Light And Love Are Red Valleys Of Blood'
7: Endless Boogie  'Vibe Killer'
6: Mark Lanegan Band  'Gargoyle'
5: Ride  'Weather Diaries'
4: Pumarosa  'The Witch'
3: Fleet Foxes  'Crack-Up'
2: Jesu/Sun Kil Moon  '30 Seconds To The Decline Of Mother Earth'
1: Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever  'The French Press'