LIVE IN LONDON!!!
(October, November, December 2019)

 And so, here we are then. A full twelve months of gigular activity has come to an end and it's time to recap the final few months of 2019 with my third look back at the best nights out where the music took centre stage and some of the finest acts filled some of the finest venues with some absolutely mind-melding shows and stomach-rattling grooves. This post will finish with a Top Ten rundown of my favourite gigs of the year. So, eyes down people, and read on.

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.

I wasn't planning on going at first, but the closer the gig got the more I fancied it. Off I went then and I'm so glad I did. Doing exactly what it said on the tin, this was just fantastic fun from first to last with McCluskey and Humphries - along with long-standing band members Martin Cooper and Stewart Kershaw - having an absolute ball. All the hits were present and correct with the likes of Enola Gay, Tesla Girls, Locomotion and Souvenir causing mass singalongs and ageing synth-pop fans to jump about with wild abandon. There's a nod back to their early Kraftwerk-inspired days with the still futuristic sounding Isotype and Messages as well as the later McCluskey-only hits Seven Seas and Pandora's Box. Anyone who has seen old TV footage of OMD will know that McCluskey's dancing is something to behold and I was pleased to see that, if anything, it's even more out there now that he's eligible for a free bus pass. Hats off, sir. The gig ended with a stupendous run through their early calling card Electricity which had the whole venue up on their feet and frugging around crazily to one of the finest tunes from the whole synth-pop era. A really rather delightful evening.
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) 

        

THE BEST ALBUMS OF THE DECADE!!!

And so here we are then - the beginning of a new decade. It's incredible to me to think that the 21st Century is already 20 years young - it seems like only yesterday that the world at large was crapping it's collective pants over the Y2K bug and the possibility that the planet might explode. Heady days, eh? Everything turned out fine of course, and since the turn of the millennium there have been some truly staggering albums released and wonderful music of every stripe has burrowed it's way deep down into the No Static At All ear canals. This particular little post will look back at the last decade's worth of releases to choose what I feel are the very best albums that appeared between January 2010 and December 2019. All of the following albums are absolutely exceptional and a fair few are masterpieces for the ages. Eyes down and indulge!

20: BILL RYDER-JONES: YAWN

Magnificent collection of brooding, emotionally charged indie rock from former The Coral guitarist who dealt with the demons swirling around his mind - specifically the tragic early death of his beloved brother - by marrying his heartbreaking lyrics with huge walls of guitars and stunning acoustic interludes. With his hushed vocals drawing you in, listening to this album felt like having a deep, intense conversation with a mate down the pub and was one of 2018's very finest records.

19: R.E.M. : COLLAPSE INTO NOW

From 2011, and the final album released by - for me - the greatest band there has ever been. Michael Stipe, Peter Buck and Mike Mills had been coasting for a little bit for the previous couple of albums and by the time of this one, they knew it. The solution? Get back to what made them so tremendous in the first place. This set of songs threw together all the best bits from their imperial phase - the jaunty jangle, propulsive indie-rock, swirling strings, sun-drenched harmonies and choruses to die for - mixed it all up and produced their best album in ages. They then all shook hands and went their separate ways. We will never see their like again.

18: NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS: SKELETON TREE

Written before but recorded after the tragic death of Cave's son Arthur in 2015, this album will obviously always be overshadowed by that horrific event. Whether or not it would have sounded any different if Cave hadn't lost his son we will never know. Cave's songwriting here has never been better - touching on love, loss, faith and the struggle for emotional calm - but his vocals are understandably strained, cracked and forlorn. Combined with the sparse musical arrangements of head Seed Warren Ellis, this was a truly tough but thoroughly rewarding listen.

17: FLEET FOXES: HELPLESSNESS BLUES

Second album of three-part harmony infused modern-day folk-rock glory from the heroically hirsute Foxes. Their 2008 debut was - and still is - one of the best albums ever released as far as I'm concerned, and come the Spring of 2011, I was looking forward to this more than most. I wasn't disappointed. Main man Robin Pecknold had put together an exquisite set of songs fusing together the chiming jangle of that first album with more expansive, Eastern-tinged ragas and acoustic guitar driven grooves, all underpinned by those beguiling harmonies. And the title track is still arguably their finest moment to date.

16: TAME IMPALA: LONERISM

Released in 2012, the second album from Australian psych-rock magus Kevin Parker took the mellow stoner vibes of his 'Innerspeaker' debut to thrilling new heights with forays into thunderous glam, electronica-infused space jams and head-spinning galactic rock and roll that placed him firmly at the top table of modern-day musical explorers. Since this mighty record, Parker has traversed the more melodic electronic pop of his ever-expanding musical map with the globe-straddling 'Currents' and the forthcoming 'The Slow Rush' which - no doubt - will be nestling in the upper reaches of many a Best Of list come the end of 2020.

15: SUFJAN STEVENS: CARRIE & LOWELL

During the early part of the noughties, Michigan born but New York based musical genius Stevens was hell-bent on pursuing a batshit crazy attempt to write and release an album of songs for each state in his native country. And as good as the albums 'Illinois' and 'Michigan' were, it was probably best for his sanity that he abandoned the idea and stuck to releasing straightforward albums of heartbreakingly spectral folk-rock ballads. That's not to say he's veered away from that template over the last decade - the discordant art-rock of  'The Age Of Adz' and his hip-hop inspired 'Sisyphus' collaboration for example - but, for me, it's his softer side that has stuck with me. 2004's magnificent 'Seven Swans' was his high watermark as far as I was concerned until he beguiled me - and millions of others - with this extraordinary collection of plaintive and atmospheric torch songs written in tribute to his parents. Utterly compelling from first to last and - in the frankly magisterial 'Fourth Of July' - he may have written one of the finest songs ever. Divine.

14: RADIOHEAD: A MOON-SHAPED POOL

Dropping out of nowhere onto the internet in late 2016, Oxfordian art-rock polymaths Radiohead's 9th long-player of oppressive, doom-laden but ultimately euphoric indie-rock was one of their finest albums. Embracing the widescreen, atmospheric sound of guitarist Jonny Greenwood's recent soundtrack work with frontman Thom Yorke's love of electronica, these songs meshed and melded those influences with glorious aplomb. From the spiky, angular strings of  'Burn The Witch' to the hushed and fragile beauty of long-standing fan fave 'True Love Waits' via the post-rock soundscapes of 'Daydreaming' and 'The Numbers', this was Radiohead at the absolute peak of their powers.

13: DAFT PUNK: RANDOM ACCESS MEMORIES

In 1997, a pair of Parisian dance DJ's by the names of Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter got together in a recording studio, put their heads together, wrote an astounding debut album of squelchy club bangers, put on a couple of motorcycle crash helmets and the legend of Daft Punk was born. Since that monumental and game-changing 'Homework' album, the duo have become worldwide superstars simultaneously releasing more incredible albums - like the scintillating 'Discovery' from 2001- as well as producing music for the likes of  LCD Soundsystem, N.E.R.D., Sebastien Tellier and Kanye West. Then, in 2013, came this - the amalgamation of all the DP influences and production techniques spliced together on one almost faultless album. The gargantuan worldwide smash 'Get Lucky' - featuring Pharrell Williams and the godly Nile Rodgers - was the obvious calling card, but greater jewels lie within. The 'other' Rodgers track - 'Lose Yourself To Dance' - was arguably even better, and alongside the mind-bending space-funk of 'Contact', the sublime easy-listening infused soul of 'The Game Of Love' and the scuzzy NYC art-rock of 'Instant Crush' there was the glorious hip-shaking rush of 'Giorgio By Moroder' and the mind-expanding pomp-rock of  'Touch'. The album hoovered up awards by the truck-load and the duo have been conspicuous by their absence ever since. Frankly, after such a phenomenal record, who can blame them?

12: SUN KIL MOON: BENJI

If I'm honest, considering the mighty Mark Kozelek's outrageously prolific output over the past decade, I could have filled this entire list with albums by the great man. As it is, I've got to give other acts a fair shake so - for now - it's just this one under his Sun Kil Moon moniker from 2014 that makes the cut. Since 2010, Ohio native - although he's been based in San Francisco for half his life - Kozelek has released around 20 albums of material under his own name, as SKM and in collaboration with other artists. I've written before on this blog - a fair few times - that all of his records are superb, but in terms of accessibility this is one of the best places to start. The fact that it is also one of his greatest collections of songs is a happy accident. As has become his songwriting norm, 'Benji' covers a myriad of topics that on paper at least, come across like diary entries or mumbled ramblings. In fact, the songs here couldn't be more heartfelt or emotionally uplifting. Whether it be the desperately sad tale of a forgotten relative in 'Carissa', the hilarious litany of his formative sexual experiences in 'Dogs', the anger and desperation in the shout-out to gun control that is 'Pray For Newtown' or the goosebump-inducing beauty of 'I Can't Live Without My Mother's Love', this was Kozelek firing on all cylinders. As a postscript, it was about as close as he's ever come to breaking through commercially but - as is his ornery wont - Kozelek turned away from the massive critical acclaim 'Benji' recieved and turned inward once more with the more strident and fan-scaring 'Universal Themes' the following year. Glorious.

11: FUCK BUTTONS: SLOW FOCUS

Bristolian electronica duo Fuck Buttons - formed in 2004 by Andrew Hung and Benjamin Power - released their third album of mind-expanding techno-frazzled brain-freeze in 2013 and promptly turned my cerebellum into mush. Whereas their first two albums - 2008's 'Street Horrrsing' and the following year's 'Tarot Sport' - blended together a disparate mix of psychedelia, drone-rock, avant-garde noise and tribal drum patterns that brought to mind the napalm scene in Apocalypse Now crossed with an illegal rave, there were moments on 'Tarot Sport' in particular that hinted at a more full-blown dance sound that 'Slow Focus' certainly ran with and then some. Coming across like a John Carpenter soundtrack with an Uzi pointed at it's head, the 7 gigantic tracks on this album ebbed, flowed, built, dropped and exploded in ways nobody has really come close to attempting since. Thunderously exciting and as much fun as you can have with your clothes on, if I ever hear better dance tracks than 'The Red Wing', 'Stalker' and the utter eye-gouging wonder of 'Hidden XS' then I'll be a very lucky bunny indeed. Time for album number 4 though, eh chaps?

10: ARCADE FIRE: THE SUBURBS

Back in 2005, just after the release of their still astonishing debut 'Funeral', I was lucky enough to see arty Canadian baroque-pop maestros Arcade Fire at the late and lamented London venue The Astoria. It is still - to this day - one of the most tremendously exciting gigs I've ever witnessed and for about a year there in the mid-noughties they were far and away my favourite band in the universe. They dropped the ball a little with 2007's slightly underwhelming and - whisper it - a little bit dull 'Neon Bible' but, possibly a little chastened by the general shrug that their second album had been met with, by 2010 they were back with all guns blazing on this terrifically entertaining third opus. A concept album of sorts and a love letter to childhood and growing up outside of the big city, 'The Suburbs' was Arcade Fire in excelsis - huge, stadium-friendly choruses, expansive instrumentation, sublime, swooning soundscapes and tunes from the gods. Frontman Win Butler and his wife and co-vocalist Regine Chassagne are both on incredible form throughout with their singing on 'Ready To Start', 'We Used To Wait' and 'Sprawl 11' in particular standing out, but the rest of the band do more than their fair share of heavy lifting too with the likes of the outstanding title track and 'Rococo' raising the rafters. 'The Suburbs' was the must-have album of 2010, winning multitudes of awards and turning Arcade Fire into world-beaters. The band have continued making superb music since with their albums 'Reflektor' and 'Everything Now' maintaining their stadium level success, but this will always be their masterpiece.

9: MIDLAKE: THE COURAGE OF OTHERS

Oh, what an album this is and oh, what a lost opportunity Midlake were. Back in 2006 - right in the middle of the new freak-folk explosion best personified by acts like Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, Devendra Banhart, My Morning Jacket and, later, Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes - Texan combo Midlake released their second full-length opus 'The Trials Of Van Occupanther' to almost universal acclaim. A beautiful warm hug of a record, 'Van Occupanther' melded together the relaxed country-rock of the band's youth with the more modern folk-rock stylings of the day, which - coupled with the delightful harmony vocals of principal songwriters Tim Smith and Eric Pulido - made them come across like The Eagles or Fleetwood Mac mixed with R.E.M. and Counting Crows. Basking in the success of a hit record, the band decamped back home to record the follow-up. And then the problems started. By the time of it's release in 2010, it was common knowledge that 'The Courage Of Others' would be the final album by Midlake as we knew them. The shift in musical differences between Tim Smith and the rest of the band was now too big to ignore and he left the group after touring the album. A massive shame because, quite frankly, this album is as good as anything any other act in the folk-rock area has released over the last 30 years or so. An utterly bewitching and all-encompassing suite of pastoral folk - heavily influenced by bands like Fairport Convention and Jethro Tull - but with it's own identity and shot through with songwriting nous and an emotional heft that few have mastered. 'Acts Of Man', 'Winter Dies', 'Core Of Nature' and 'In The Ground' give you an idea of where Smith's head was at and it's been no surprise to me that he's basically disappeared from view since leaving the band. I have visions of him living off the grid like the protagonist in that 'Into The Wild' movie. Pulido took up head-honcho duties for 2013's 'Antiphon' but - as good as that album was - the spark had gone. This was Midlake's moment and it fizzled out before it had even begun. But, for the total and utter majesty of the track 'Children Of The Grounds' I will be forever grateful. Oh, what an album this is.

8: SPAIN: THE SOUL OF SPAIN

Formed in the early 90's by Los Angeles native Josh Haden, Spain are a jazz-influenced and blues-flecked Americana band who - despite a fabulous bunch of records - have never quite broken through to the wider consciousness. A travesty obviously. When even the godlike genius of Johnny Cash covers one of your songs - 1995's heartbreaking 'Spiritual' - it must stick in Haden's craw that lesser talents like Ed Sheeran sell trillions of records all over the galaxy. If it doesn't, then he's a better man than I, as it certainly sticks in mine. However - I digress. Haden wound Spain down in the early noughties after a raft of excellent albums failed to find an audience. After years as a session player in a multitude of jazz bands - Haden is a sublime bass player - he reactivated the group in 2009 and the first fruits of his new labours was this stunning album of mellow country rock and jazz-inflected slowcore from 2012. Also embracing jangle-drenched indie and plaintive folk ballads, this was as good as Haden had ever been - his deep, mellifluous vocals holding everything together quite beautifully. There's been a bunch of decent albums since but nothing has really come close to this one. But maybe nothing needs to.

7: W.H. LUNG: INCIDENTAL MUSIC

 The most recent album on this list and - subsequently - one I won't go into too much detail about. The more eagle-eyed amongst you will have figured out that if this particular record is so high up in this list, then it stands to reason that it more than likely is riding very high indeed in my forthcoming Top 50 Albums of 2019 list. And you'd be bang on. There will be a more fulsome review of this absolute corker of an album within that post, but suffice to say, for now I can safely suggest that these eight very, very special songs by this very, very special band are as good as anything I've heard in years. Splicing together a monumental melange of synth-pop, electronica, motorik rhythms, driving funk, sweeping dance beats and pure euphoria-inducing joyful abandon, if this album doesn't get you dancing around in your front room like a loon, then you have cement in your veins and a breeze-block for a heart. Wondrous in every single possible way.

6: THE WAR ON DRUGS: LOST IN A DREAM

By some considerable distance, this was the finest album released in 2014. Adam Granduciel and his War On Drugs collective had piqued my interest with their previous two albums - especially the drifting melancholia of 2011's 'Slave Ambient' - but if I'm honest, nothing prepared me for the quantum shift of musical brilliance that this album ushered in. Recorded at his home studio as ostensibly a solo album, Granduciel then expanded his live band from a scrappy trio into a full-blown rock outfit including synths, horns and a multitude of percussion, musically blasting the new songs onto another level. Embracing Granduciel's childhood love of widescreen 80's American rock and modern-day melodic indie and fusing it with electronic textures and Krautrock-inspired rhythms, tracks like the outstanding 'Under The Pressure' and the gloriously uplifting 'An Ocean Between The Waves' belied the fact that the lyrical themes of the album touched on the lonliness and despair of Granduciel's post-touring life whilst recording the record. Indeed, songs like 'Suffering', 'Disappearing' and the pure, unadulterated pain of 'Eyes To The Wind' drive straight through to the depression that he was feeling. A huge critical and commercial success, 'Lost In A Dream' turned Granduciel's life around leading to 2017's almost as good 'A Deeper Understanding', worldwide arena tours and armfuls of awards. Even if he never scales these heights again, he's made an album for the ages. And in the utterly magnificent 'Red Eyes' - Tom Petty flying a rocket off his tits on MDMA - he's written the song of his life.

5: DAVID BOWIE: BLACKST*R

What more can be said about this extraordinary last will and testament from the greatest pop star the universe has ever produced? Written and recorded under the shadow of the Grim Reaper, Bowie's 25th and final album was released on his 69th birthday in 2016. Two days later, the legendary rock and roll chameleon left us to shower his gifts upon another realm. The shock was palpable - Bowie had kept his illness secret from the world - and the distress and despair from fans acute. But what an incredible legacy the man had left us. And with this final album, he may very well have topped the lot. Touching on all the best parts of his previous recorded works - pounding rock and roll, glitzy glam, free-form art-rock, sax-laden discordia, electronica-infused bangers - this was mighty fare. The clues were all there of course with allusions to death peppering the lyrics and the pre-album release of the videos to the epic title track and the spine-tingling 'Lazarus' basically spelling it out for you. But the few days we were given between the album's release and the great man's death was just not enough time to decode it all. And, quite frankly, the thought of Bowie dying was absurd. However, as befitting the theatrical, art-loving polymath, his passing was timed to perfection - one final 'Exit: Stage left' for his devoted following. Four years on though, it still hurts. Rest in peace, Starman.

4: ANGEL OLSEN: MY WOMAN

Released in the summer of 2016, this third album by Missouri-born folk-rock singer/songwriter Olsen flew under my radar for a little while after it came out, before I was struck dumb one afternoon in my local record emporium upon hearing the opening strains of the first track 'Intern' emanating from the store's speakers. I knew who Olsen was - I'd bought her second album 'Burn Your Fire For No Witness' a few years previous - but, as much as I'd liked that collection of sparse folk and crackly Americana, these new tracks I was hearing in that shop were a different beast entirely. A breathtaking shift forward from her earlier work, 'My Woman' quickly became my favourite record of the year. Charting the breakdown of a relationship as well as the emotional upheaval of touring, travelling and being apart from loved ones, this album showed that Olsen was to be taken very seriously as a modern-day songwriting great. Musically, the songs run the gamut from eerie synth-pop, gnarly surf-rock, classic indie, late-night torch songs and  epic, widescreen country-rock ballads - with the astonishing title track and the utterly gorgeous 'Sister' stealing the show. Olsen toured the album solidly for 18 months - I saw her live twice during that period and she and her band were on fire on both occasions - and it also garnered much critical acclaim. Hugely justified too, as it is quite simply a masterpiece. And the fact that she's almost bettered it with her latest album 'All Mirrors' is just showing off really. Fantastic. 

3: LCD SOUNDSYSTEM: AMERICAN DREAM

Well, this was a real turn-up for the books. Back in 2011, after a mammoth world tour for the previous year's album 'This Is Happening', LCD head honcho James Murphy - who was pushing 50 and suffering physically after years of DJ-ing, partying and making utterly incredible music with his band - decided to park the Soundsystem bus and let the new breed of dance music heroes have a go. He made an extraordinary fly-on-the-wall documentary which followed the group as they played their final gig at Madison Square Garden, before then showing Murphy lost and rudderless at home, playing with his dog, bursting into tears and wondering if he'd made the right decision. For a while there, it seemed he may have got used to his new life but - after feeling the itch and with his great friend David Bowie's words ringing in his ears: "If it feels right, just do it" - he shouted down the naysayers, reactivated the band and regaled the faithful with this absolutely transcendent collection of euphoric synth-laden art-rock mixed with glittering club beats, jerky punk, superlative dance grooves and sumptuous string-laden come-downs. When it hit my stereo for the first time in late 2017, I didn't play anything else for about a month. I couldn't get over the fact that, considering it was the fourth album by a group who hadn't released anything in 8 years, it sounded so fresh, joyful and full of life. If you're new to the LCD party, start with this album and if your cranium hasn't split open with wonder by the time the HUGE sounding synth beats kick in halfway through the monumentally magnificent 'How Do You Sleep?' then there's absolutely no hope for you.

2: ROLLING BLACKOUTS COASTAL FEVER: HOPE DOWNS

 There's not much more that needs to be said about this combo to be honest with you. Aside from the previously mentioned Mark Kozelek, I think I've written more words on this blog about this delightfully monikered quintet from Melbourne than anyone else. Their first two EP's made Number 2 in my Albums Of 2017 list and the 5 times I've seen them live over the last couple of years are 5 of the best gigs I've ever seen. So, it was no surprise that this tremendous debut of rollicking jangle and shuffling indie-rock shot straight to the top of my fave albums of 2018 when it was released in June of that year and never even came close to relinquishing that position. There's not an ounce of chaff in anything they've released so far and to say I'm champing at the bit for this year's follow-up is an understatement to say the least. If they come even remotely close to writing songs as joyful and life-enriching as 'Talking Straight' and 'An Air-Conditioned Man' then I can die happy. What. A. Band.

1: MARK KOZELEK & JIMMY LAVALLE: PERILS FROM THE SEA

Well, I did tell you Mr. Kozelek would probably pop up again. And how. Throughout his mighty career, Kozelek has made nary a duff album and many a masterpiece, with some of his work as Red House Painters, Sun Kil Moon and as a solo artist touching on pure greatness. However, nothing he has recorded before or since this sublime collaboration with electronica instrumental composer Lavalle has touched me as deeply or as strongly. The total crystallisation of Kozelek's songwriting power and ear for a melody, the 11 stunning tracks on this album can - for me - easily lay claim to be one of the greatest collections of songs ever written. At once heartbreaking, hilarious, spine-tingling, shocking, profoundly moving, personal, warming and wise, these songs look back at his life and regale the listener with the moments that matter the most to Kozelek. From the desperate scramble to replace a beloved family heirloom in '1936' to the shattering denoument in the otherwise folksy tale of Kozelek's immigrant handyman in 'Gustavo'. From the plaintive paeans to adult domesticity in 'Ceiling Gazing' and 'Caroline' to the devastating sense of loss in 'He Always Felt Like Dancing'. Kozelek's songs here draw you in, intent and focused, desperate to find out what happens to this remarkable cast of characters. To top it all off, Kozelek ends this exceptional suite of songs - all backed by Lavalle's calming downtempo folktronica - with possibly the greatest song in his canon. There may be finer songs out there in the universe than the staggeringly beautiful 'Somehow The Wonder Of Life Prevails', but I very much doubt it. Just an absolutely extraordinary record. 

LIVE IN LONDON!!!
May to September 2019

Earlier this year I penned a fulsome and thorough post waxing lyrical about the best gigular moments of the first part of the year that I had been lucky enough to attend. Now, with the summer reaching it's conclusion, it's time to take a stroll back through the hazy, lazy days of 2019's middle period and regale you - dear reader - with my fave live moments that were worthy enough for me to part with my hard-earned. The summer months are always usually packed to the rafters with huge outdoor gigs and festivals, and this year has been no exception. So, without further ado, eyes down for the best of the best....

We start at the beginning of May - which turned out to be an absolute humdinger of a month - with the 8th edition of DesertFest, which has been glueing Camden Town together with a heady brew of stoner rock, doom metal, psych, fuzz and heavy rock since 2012. Taking place over the three days of the May Day Bank Holiday weekend, over the years this gloriously grotty little festival has played host to bands such as Corrosion Of Conformity, Orange Goblin, Monster Magnet, Brant Bjork, Sleep, Electric Wizard, Hawkwind, Nebula and Snapped Ankles. Pitching it's tent at the finest Camden venues - The Underworld, The Devonshire Arms, The Electric Ballroom and The Black Heart - this year also saw The Roundhouse get in on the act with a full program on the Sunday.

 Work commitments kept me away from the first two days of this year's festivities, so I missed out on the likes of Kadavar, Black Tusk, Om and Salem's Bend. However, I made up for it with a quite staggering day of the finest sludge-drenched psychedelic blues and out and out doom-filled heady rock grooves at the aforementioned Roundhouse where German trio Colour Haze, San Diego's riff-friendly Earthless, US stoner crew Witch (featuring J Mascis from Dinosaur Jr on drums), Nashville quintet All Them Witches and legendary California-bred desert rock behemoths Fu Manchu all put in sterling sets of the finest boogie-based, crunch-filled, stomach rattling heavy rock and roll this side of a early 70's Led Zep/Black Sabbath mash up. Thrilling stuff. There was just enough time before midnight on the Sunday to catch Norwegian stoner crew The Devil and The Almighty Blues kick up a storm at The Underworld. With Camden overrun with big, hairy, tattooed chaps and dames of every stripe and hue, this was real reminder of how deeply beloved the alternative rock scene still is. I for one am already saving for next year.
I was back in Camden a few days later at the Electric Ballroom to see the return to UK shores of cult Belgian indie-rock crew dEUS, who were touring Europe as part of their 'Ideal Crash 20' jaunt. Doing exactly what it says on the tin, the band rattled through the whole of their classic 'Ideal Crash' album before an encore of band favourites. Released as their third full-length album in 1999, 'Ideal Crash' was supposed to be the record that took the group into the mainstream and make them household names after their first two albums had come close to knocking on the door. Typically, the music-listening general public were looking the other way and the record slipped through the cracks. Their label dumped them and even though the band have carried on making excellent records since, nothing has come close to the majesty of this particular suite of songs.Performing it live, the band put on a real barnstormer of a show with vocalist Tom Barman and keyboard wiz Klaas Janzoons the stars of the show. 

There's an occasional appearance from a spritely modern dance troupe to add some artiness to proceedings, but it's really all about the songs: Put The Freaks Up Front, Sister Dew, The Magic Hour, Everybody's Weird and the utter genius that is Instant Street which is the song that really should have been massive for them. If, as many people suggested at the time, dEUS were the Belgian Radiohead, then Instant Street was their Paranoid Android. A huge, thunderous cacophony of grunge-drenched guitars, pulverizing percussion, hollered vocals and mind-melting Sturm und Drang, it was - and still remains - a total monster of a tune that sounded suitably epic at this gig. To be fair, once the album had been performed, the energy levels dropped somewhat and the encores were a little bit flat, but the band - who still plan to carry on ploughing their own furrow - deserved the huge ovation they received for regaling us with such a classic bunch of songs.
The following week in May saw me touch base with a couple of No Static At All faves who I have waxed lyrical about many times before. My second Psychedelic Porn Crumpets gig of this year took in a road-trip down to my old stomping grounds of Guildford in Surrey to see the hairy, lairy Aussies take the fabled Boiler Room venue by storm and lay waste to the local fuzz fans in incendiary style. Doing pretty much exactly what they did in February at Dingwalls, the fresh-faced foursome barrelled their way through a careering set of acid-fried boogie and cerebellum chomping wig-outs that had many a Guilfordian drenched in sweat and crying out for more. Bloody marvellous. Next up was a quick jaunt to Hackney's Oslo Bar to see my all-time favourite grizzled rancheros of the rock and roll mesa, Endless Boogie, who once again showed the whippersnappers how to do this blues-infused, metronomic psych-rock thing properly. Stretching their setlist to an impressive 5 songs, the Boog spent a good fifty percent of the set growling and grooving their way through the classic Smoking Figs In The Back Yard before head honcho Paul Major realised he was going to have to wind down the gig at some point. I could quite happily watch this crew play for 24 hours straight, and I get the feeling the band feel the same way. I'm putting it out there: they're pretty close to being the best live band on the planet.
Within a week, I was back out on the gig trail and on my way to The Academy in Islington to catch up with the mighty Swervedriver, who have recently released their sixth album 'Future Ruins' to huge acclaim. I've been a fan of Oxford's psych-indebted shoegazers since their early forays into the reverb-drenched stratosphere back in the early 90's. There was a lengthy sabbatical through the early noughties, before core members Adam Franklin and Jimmy Hartridge reconvened and started touring again. After the usual 'album in full' gigs and fan favourite shindigs, the duo - helped by ex-Supergrass bassist Mick Quinn and drummer Mikey Jones - released the excellent 'I Wasn't Born To Lose You' opus in 2015. That record gained some real traction and reminded people what was so special about Swervedriver in the first place. 

The new album solidifies that fact and I was really looking forward to hearing it live. I wasn't disappointed. With the band on terrific form and Franklin and Hartridge's guitars twisting and turning around each other with sublime style, the big tunes on the latest record such as the title track, Mary Winter and Drone Lover all stood toe to toe quite wonderfully with the earlier classics like Never Lose That Feeling, Rave Down and the still utterly magisterial Duel. Both Franklin and Hartridge - never usually known for their effusiveness - looked thoroughly overwhelmed and overjoyed with proceedings and the whole gig was an absolute joy from first to last.
Two more gigs to end with in May - I told you it was a humdinger - and one of the finest of the year took place at the tiny little Omeara club just round the back of London Bridge station. Timothy Showalter has been trading under the name Strand Of Oaks for a good few years now and releasing solid, if not spectacular, albums that have hovered around my radar and throwing up the odd gem like the gorgeous JM from 2014's 'Heal'. All that has changed though this year, with March's astonishing 'Eraserland' album shooting straight to the top of my own personal album of the year list. A wondrous collection of alt-country laments and psychedelic soul, it is without doubt the album of Showalter's life. To tour said record, Showalter has put together a crack unit of Americana stalwarts and, armed with his trusty guitar and a holdall full of heartbreak, big Tim was on magnificent form and enjoying himself immensely. Highlights were plentiful with most of the new album given an airing. However, if there is a better song written within this genre this year than Forever Chords, I'll be amazed. A transcendent, transformative and totally transporting thing of beauty, it filled the room with wonder and joy at the gig's climax and had Showalter straining every sinew to deliver his sermon of love and healing. Just stunning. The next gig that followed that one was always going to suffer a little, but when US art-rock inspired indie rockers Filthy Friends took to the stage at Islington's Garage a few days later, they did their very best to surpass it. Something of a alt-rock supergroup, the Friends are made up of ex-Fastbacks guitarist Kurt Bloch, Minus 5 stalwart Scott McCaughey, Baseball Project drummer Linda Pitmon, Sleater-Kinney vocalist Corin Tucker and - on lead guitar - one Peter Buck from R.E.M. Now, obviously I wasn't going to turn down the chance to see the mighty Mr Buck at such a compact venue and I'm so glad I didn't. The two Filthy Friends albums - 2016's 'Invitation' and this years 'Emerald Valley' - are perfectly serviceable collections of gnarly, politically aware rock tunes but, if I'm brutally honest, a little goes a long way.

 Live on stage though, the collective are a different matter. With Pitmon holding down the beat in hugely impressive fashion, the grizzled old coots on six-string duties are a joy to behold with Bloch in particular having an absolute ball. Buck, fully aware that most patrons are there to see him and him alone, keeps himself to himself at the back of the stage and never says a word. His guitar playing though is as exemplary as you would wish it to be, full of strident riffing and jangle-infused cirlicues that harken back to that classic R.E.M. period of the late 80's. However, as joyful as it is to see Buck up close, the gig belongs to Tucker who - freed from her vocal sharing duties with Carrie Brownstein in Sleater-Kinney - is on tremendously thrilling form throughout, with her lung-busting vocal stylings raising the rafters and rattling the rooftops for miles around. Fantastically exciting.
After such a packed May, the following month was a quieter affair with only two events on the calendar to trouble my wallet. The first was a splendid evening in the heart of Bethnal Green with the venerable old Japanese psych-rock merchants Acid Mother's Temple, who have been plying their trade for over 25 years now never straying far from the path of prog-rock influenced and doom-laden instrumental works that cover similar territory to Krautrock bands from the 70's. Led by core members Higashi Hiroshi on all manner of keyboards and synths and wild-haired guitar virtuoso Kawabata Makoto, the band has seen a revolving door of other members come and go. On this particular evening, the duo were complemented by the spectacularly flamboyant Jyonson Tsu on extra guitar and all other manner of stringed instruments, mad as a box of frogs drum titan Satoshima Nani and the mysterious Wolf on bass. Settling down in front of a small crowd of AMT devotees - indeed, there was more middle-aged men in retina-burning tie-dye here than was strictly necessary - the band proceeded to bewitch and enthrall the gathered faithful with a thumping mix of universe straddling cosmica that saw many present grinning from ear to ear whilst at the same time looking for all the world as if their heads were about to explode. Magnificent, obviously.
And secondly in June, it was a return to the UK for the biggest metal band in the world and the Bay Area thrash kings - Metallica. After bagging the number one spot in No Static At All's Best Gigs Of 2017 for their astonishing O2 performance in October of that year, this time around it was a chance to show the Metallica family if they can still do the business outside of arenas - in this case, the pain in the arse to get to enormodome that is Twickenham Stadium. Like most huge outdoor venues, Twickenham is a soulless and hugely commercialised affair that depresses on almost every level. Fortunately though, the Four Horsemen of the Metal Militia - James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Kirk Hammett and Rob Trujillo - who, even though they've been touring the 'Hardwired...' album for close to three years, were on phenomenal form yet again and helped to wash away the stain of the stadium's barn-like surroundings and the ridiculous state of affairs that was the total lack of cash-accepting food and drink concessions. All the big Metallica moments were present and correct of course: Sad But True, Seek And Destroy, Master Of Puppets, The Unforgiven, One, For Whom The Bell Tolls and a final big hit double whammy encore of Nothing Else Matters and Enter Sandman. The guys all looked hale and hearty and fit and healthy - although, with Hetfield recently re-admitting himself into rehab there was obviously more happening below the surface - and the stage set and huge visual backdrops were a godsend for those in the crowd who were perched way up in the gods. All in all, and despite the venue, Metallica once again proved why they are still top of the game and the yardstick that all metal bands should be measuring themselves against.

Into July then and first up was another trip to The Garage in Islington, this time to see a real legend in the flesh. Back in the late 60's, Arthur Lee and his band Love were a kaftan's hem away from becoming one of the biggest bands in America. Feted by luminaries like Jim Morrison and Brian Wilson, Love's third album - the deathless 'Forever Changes' - was, and remains to this day, a true classic of Summer Of love psychedelic wonder. Unfortunately, Lee discovered heroin and fell out with almost every other member of Love, the band disintegrated and Lee eventually wound up in prison. 15 years ago he returned to the fray, hooked up with Love-loving LA session band Baby Lemonade and toured the world for a time to massive acclaim before sadly passing away in 2006. Since then, Baby Lemonade - now christened The Love Band - have been touring solidly with the one sole surviving member of the original Love joining their ranks on lead guitar.

Johnny Echols is now 72 and has recently announced his retirement from performing. As such, this short UK tour - which ended in London - was billed as the farewell performances from this incarnation of Love. Quite rightly, it was a full-blown celebration of this very unique band's strain of psych-whimsy and Byrdsian jingle jangle. The whole of 'Forever Changes' was performed - stupendously well it has to be said - whilst earlier and later Love classics like 7 And 7 Is, Signed D.C., Orange Skies and She Comes In Colours all went down stormingly with the assembled throng - most of whom didn't look anywhere near old enough to have experienced Love the first, or even the second time round. Echols himself never stopped smiling throughout and was obviously having the time of his life. A real treat.
Later in July, there was a wonderfully splendid evening of the finest jangle in the known universe as my current favourite band Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever popped back to London and thrilled their ever-increasing fanbase at East London's sweaty little hotbox The Village Underground. I've written enough about this band over the last couple of years to fill a hefty tome, but suffice to say they were - as ever - utterly tremendous from minute one and the songs from last year's 'Hope Downs' album (my Album Of The Year for 2018) still sound as gloriously life-enriching as they did 12 months ago. Fantastic.
Next up was a scuzzy and fuzz-swamped evening of loud and raucous rock and roll from Southern Californian troupe Sacri Monti, who took over Camden's Black Heart and almost peeled the paint from the walls. Plugging themselves into a vibe-heavy melange of thumping drummage and teeth-flaying riffage, this quintet of long-hairs are set fair to do great things within the desert rock scene and it wouldn't surprise me at all to see them turning up on the bill of next year's DesertFest. Cracking stuff.
The last big outdoor gig of the year for me - bar the little matter of The Green Man Festival which I've written about elsewhere on this blog - was a huge coming together of two of the biggest legends in rock music and two of the finest songwriters alive. No, I don't mean the Ed Sheeran/Lewis Capaldi double-header, I'm talking about Neil Young and Bob Dylan performing on the same bill at Hyde Park. For many ageing hippies of a certain vintage, this lineup was manna from heaven. I'm not quite at that stage just yet, but I'll go and see Neil Young anywhere and the fact that Dylan was along for the ride as well was just a bonus really. Young, who has been touring with his current compadres The Promise Of The Real for a few years now, had no new product to promote (although, as is his contrary wont, he announced a brand new album with old sparring partners Crazy Horse two weeks after this gig), so was more than happy to just pump out the classics - which he did with the effervescence and zeal of a man half his age. Performing first, his entire set was in scorching daylight which, for an old school fan such as myself, was a little jarring as I'm so used to seeing him headline big outdoor gigs as the sun sets behind him. However, this odd state of affairs didn't detract from his playing and his singing as he powered through titanic renditions of Rockin' In The Free World, Like A Hurricane, Alabama, Words and Winterlong as well as a glorious little acoustic interlude containing Heart Of Gold, From Hank To Hendrix and the wonderful Old Man. With The Promise Of The Real - featuring Lukas Nelson front and center - backing Young up in eviscerating style, at one point it looked as if Young might perform all of 1990's era-defining grunge template 'Ragged Glory' in full. As it was, half of that album was aired before his allotted two hours fizzled out with a couple of throwaway songs in Roll Another Number and the pointless dirge of Piece Of Crap. An odd end to what had been a typically awesome Young set. As for Dylan? Well, as it was my first time witnessing the great man live, I'd like to say he was everything I wanted him to be. Unfortunately, all I can say is that he was everything I'd been warned he'd be like. He was never the greatest vocalist of all time but whatever he had back in the day, it worked. Not so much now. With the greatest of respect to one of - if not the - finest songwriter of all time, Dylan now sounds just like the old Vic Reeves pub singer sketch from early 90's UK quiz show Shooting Stars. He has also decided that some of his greatest songs need to be rearranged in such a manner as to be almost unrecognisable. Most of the crowd stuck it out for a good hour or so, wincing and shaking their heads as Dylan honked and howled his way through dirge after dirge but eventually - and way before curfew - huge swathes of the 60,000 strong throng started to make their way toward the exits. The whole affair was summed up brilliantly by one of my companions turning to me two-thirds of the way through one tuneless farrago and shouting incredulously "Bloody hell, this is Blowin In The Wind!" Embarrassing, really.

Finally, after my gargantuan and glory-filled long weekend of festival fun down at The Green Man, there was just time to squeeze in a couple more gigs in London before the leaves started to fall and the nights started to draw in. Mark  E Everett and his current iteration of Eels sold out the Hammersmith Apollo at the end of August and put on an incredible show bursting with classic blues-dipped alt-pop and driving rock and roll shenanigans that just confirmed to me, and many others present, how hugely underrated he is as a songwriter and showman. I'd already seen them a week earlier at Green Man so I knew what to expect at the Apollo show but it was still just as exciting and viscerally thrilling as any modern-day rock show I've witnessed recently. Everett is a hugely entertaining presence, rattling off stories and anecdotes and riffing with his brilliant band to hilarious effect. And the tunes! Prizefighter, I Like Birds, Flyswatter, Dog Faced Boy, Novocaine For The Soul. All absolute classics. There was a hefty proliferation of covers - their rendition of Prince's Raspberry Beret was particularly fine - and some spine-tingling softer moments such as the sparkling version of Brian Wilson's Love And Mercy that segued into one of Everett's finest songs in Blinking Lights. A splendid evening from a consummate entertainer and a kick-ass band. What more could you want?

And finally in this rather extensive look back at this summer's brightest and best gigular activity, we have another London appearance from the Bostonian kings of indie-rock and the godfathers of the whole alternative explosion of the early 90's. Yep, the magnificently mighty Pixies popped over a couple of weeks ago and - on the back of the recently released 'Beneath The Eyrie' album - sold out the cavernous hangar that is Alexandra Palace. I promised myself a few years ago that I wouldn't return to the fabled Ally Pally ever again, but when it comes to the Pixies, all bets are off. And I'm so glad I made the hefty old trek. If I'm honest, the new album isn't pulling up too many trees for me - it's fine and it does the job if you want a straightforward collection of dark and moody indie - but considering it's the Pixies, I was hoping for more. Live though, it's a different proposition. Every track from the new record gets an airing and each track sounds beefier and more direct than it does at home. The 20,000 strong faithful are rapt and completely into the new tunes from the off as well, and there's little evidence of a mad rush to the bar when anything brand new is played. All the big hitters get a splendid airing too with Debaser, Monkey Gone To Heaven and Where Is My Mind still sounding brilliant and predictably bringing the house down and causing mass singalongs. Vocally, Frank Black is on coruscating form with that banshee wail of his during Tame, Dead and Brick Is Red still causing frissons of excitement and hairs to rise on the back of my neck 30 odd years after I first heard it. On guitar, Joey Santiago is still doing his thing, quite incredibly, bending and stretching his strings and filling the room with his eye-watering riffs on Bone Machine and Vamos. With David Lovering thundering away happily on drums - although missing out this time on vocal duties on the sadly absent La La Love You - and new girl Paz Lenchantin doing a sterling job in the 'Kim Deal Replacement' spot, the foursome put on a commanding performance over two hours and almost 40 songs. There really has never been a band like them. Long may they continue.