Glasvegas, The Royal

We're at Derby's new venue tonight, The Royal formerly the Royal Hotel although it closed as a hotel in 1950. Both tonight's bands comment on the posh-ness of the surroundings when they come on stage, which is quite late. The support act play at 9.15, the main band at 10.15.

First up are a band called Madskull. The name doesn't sound promising and neither does the lack of a drumkit. Then when a badly dressed group of scallies, looking like Oasis after they've eaten all the pies, walk on stage to the sound of 'My Boy Lollipop' possibly my worst fears are realised or possibly not. Turns out they're actually quite a nice bunch of lads albeit with impenetrable Scots accents who make quite a nice sound. I think they're funny, as in entertaining and comic sort of way. Apart from that second track which is called 'Bouncy' or something like that and is all my musical nightmares rolled into one. They only play four tracks, saying that's all they've got, as they've only been together a matter of weeks but they're not too bad at all.

For a band who only assembled recently, they have a lot of equipment and they take almost as long shifting it as they did playing. Then eventually dry ice and red lighting floods the stage as four be-quiffed figures dressed in black take the stage. Glasvegas certainly look the part, like a 1960's version of the Jesus And Mary Chain with Joe Strummer on lead guitar and singing in Glaswegian. L's analogy was a cross between the Skids and the Cold War Kids with a dash of Rab C Nesbitt thrown in. Which is priceless. As you may have guessed the band are, as the name suggests, from Glasgow or more correctly Dalmarnock. Mind you, it's still a shocker of a name, even if it is how many Scots jokingly refer to Glasgow.

After their impressive entrance, singer James Allan kicks off the evening with 'Flowers And Football Tops', a song big on emotion and seemingly about roadside memorials. Along with his cousin Rab on guitar and Paul Donoghue on bass, the three of them lay down a gorgeous wall of guitar noise. This is partly where the comparisons to fellow Scots Jesus And Mary Chain come from, I also wonder if they've listened to My Bloody Valentine. The guitar sound is backed by the simple drumming of Caroline McKay on a cut-down drum kit, who is slightly hidden in the shadows at the back of the stage.



The place isn't full despite the hype and their recent appearance on 'Jools' so we can get up close and impersonal with them. Together since early 2006 with the much downloaded 'Home Tapes' demos and three limited edition singles behind them, it's taken a while for them to get noticed but finally they have been.

So have they been hyped for a good reason. Well yes. Tonight, their songs resonate off the walls of the impressive Royal without being as loud as I'd expected. Previous singles like 'Its My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry' are accompanied by fists in the air and football ground style singing from the crowd down the front but don't hold that against them. Each familiar song is sung back with increasing vigour as the night goes on, even the 'woo woo' Ronettes' bits.

There is no written set list; it's seemingly not needed for what appears to be a well-honed set. The well known downloads all take on another dimension live and are interspersed with a few new songs, such as 'Lonesome Swan' and 'Polmont On My Mind' which promise great things from their debut album when it is released in August.

'Geraldine' sounds wonderfully powerful and totally ace live. It is already L's single of the year and it's not even out until 23rd June. In fact she says the band are the best thing I've played her for a while. She's even bought the t-shirt.



There is hardly any letup, as the band rumble through their brief but breathless 45 minute set, more than justifying the frenzy about them.

'Go Square Go' storms the stage and the crowd but then finally we get a break and a slowie; a new song called 'Ice Cream Van' featuring just James Allan's distinctive Glaswegian brogue and Rab on keyboard, although it sounds a bit like the funeral march. L tells me how moving it was the way he wrung his hands as he sung it. She says she was sure he was rummaging for a hankie in his pocket afterwards so he could have a little sob. I'm not convinced, I thought the lyrics were about sectarianism and he was wringing his hands as if he had them around someone’s throat. Funny how we see things differently.

They finish with 'Daddy's Gone', which is greeted with a big cheer. A track that was voted the number 2 single of 2007 by NME readers. Most of the crowd know it and carry on singing when James Allan opts not to.



No sooner has he finished singing a final chorus of 'forget your dad, he's gone' and they're gone themselves. Almost as soon as the band are off the stage, the house lights and the music come on. Game over. Which is a shame. Not even chance to shout for an encore.

Despite the shortness of the set, these guys are clearly a class act with some great songs. Probably too short, it would have been good to hear them play 'The Prettiest Girl On Saltcoats Beach', but I suppose it was only £7. Hopefully longer sets will appear when they tour to promote the album.

So a great gig, despite them not having the cheeriest of songs; their repertoire consists of death, racism, absent fathers, social workers, infidelity... he's clearly had a rough upbringing. What a good advert for Glasgow. I've not really been there; don't think I'll bother.

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Guillemots, Rock City

Rock City isn't full and the balcony is closed for added intimacy. We head up the staircase and get a good spot, perched at the top, like, well like a guillemot or should I say guiLLeMoT, as they prefer to write it.

First though, London's Royworld and their mainstream pop rock, promoting their debut album 'Man In The Machine'. It's a terrible name and none of the band are even called Roy, in fact what's worse is the lead singer is called Rod, so why not Rodworld? Can't be any worse, or can it? Or Robworld after the guitarist? Tim and Jerry-world, the other two members, conjures up cat and mouse games...

They play some pretty standard stuff that seemed ok but nothing stood out or grabbed my attention. After a few tracks, my mind and eyes soon started to wander elsewhere.

As the roadies set up for the Guillemots, I conclude that the sound check could take a while, as a huge array of equipment is wheeled out on to the stage including more effects pedals than I've ever seen before. They also bring out a stuffed lion, which looks like the King John character from Disney's Robin Hood.



The lights go down and the baggy suited Fyfe Antony Dangerfield Hutchins takes to the stage clutching a hand held keyboard that I'm not sure he's actually playing. He sings the first verse of 'Made-up Lovesong #43' solo, sounding a little like Stevie Wonder. Fyfe it appears is a man of many voices and has a truly great vocal range. He sings about something he got 'off the paper round', hopefully not from round our way. Then he takes a seat at his keyboards and coloured lights go on everywhere, including a tube of red lights running all around the stage and the other band members join in for the rest of the song.

There are several birds on stage, there's one perched on Fyfe's keyboards, a guillemot I assume, and then there's Aristazabal Hawkes looking good in a near backless black dress with a double bass between her legs.

They drift into 'Clarion' without a pause with Arista now banging on a set of drums. Guitarist MC Lord Magrão is rocking out, as he does all night, even when the tempo of the song doesn't warrant it. Fyfe stays at his keyboards, side on to the audience, which isn't very rock n roll and annoys the hell out of me. Face your audience! He doesn't talk a lot but oddly asks what people's favourite paint was. Some bright spark replies with a yell of 'Green'.



The title track to their Mercury Music Prize nominated debut album 'Through The Windowpane' follows as we get a sequence of slowish songs to open including their rather twee new single 'Falling out of Reach'.

'Falling out of Reach' would sit well on their first album but some of the other stuff on the new album 'Red' would not. Some of the tracks are very different for sure and all hell breaks lose when the band employ a major chance of pace and play 'Last Kiss'.

Arista timidly shuffles forward to take main vocal duties, a more reluctant vocalist I don't think I've ever seen. She mumbles something, I think she says the songs about marriage. Oh dear. Major assertiveness lessons required and as for her dancing, well...

Putting all that and her rather quiet vocals aside, its still an outstanding moment. Also for Arista's dress, for which L has now placed an order.

Then they go from being completely manic back to soft and gentle although Fyfe briefly ditches his keyboards in favour of a guitar, for 'Standing On The Last Star' for which he sounds far too like Mika for my liking. He encourages everyone to clap and sing along to the ending.

The band are continually swapping instruments, often even mid-song. Fyfe's on harmonica for the intro to 'Words' which rather unfairly reminds me of that French-Tunisian crooner FR David and his awful schmaltz of the same name which sold by the skip-full in 1982. Thankfully it's not the same track but shockingly similar in sentiment.

Arista shows what a diverse girl she is by picking up bass guitar for the brooding 'Don't Look Down', which is my favourite track from 'Red'. It's a captivating song that picks up speed as it goes along until it gets insanely fast towards the end. My highlight of the night.

'Annie, Let's Not Wait', another of my favourites, has possibly too much drumbeat on it but its still good. Then Fyfe dons some very silly sunglasses as their punchy recent single 'Get Over It' picks up the pace again, dramatically so. When I first heard this being played on the radio, I couldn't believe it was the Guillemots gone all pop.

He tells us it's about being a bitter old man. Bitter it seems at ending up with the wrong girl and still longing for his unrequited love but hey, at least he's getting over it.



Fyfe is left alone to play a solo 'We're Here'. It's a quiet moment but initially the crowd are too busy chattering, still abuzz from a cracking 'Get Over It' which just needed to be commented on. Probably not a good time to play a slowie.

The rest of the band return with Arista now at the keyboards for the raucous Scissor Sisters sound of 'Kriss Kross' which closes the set.

The band leave the stage but the audience had barely finished applauding when they return. Oddly drummer Greig Stewart is now stripped to the waist with a face drawn on his torso, dancing madly, and waving a bell above his head while Fyfe plays the drums. What was that all about then? Quite surreal. Someone shouts out their perverse appreciation for Greig, Fyfe tells them to 'get over it'.

Normality is restored for 'Trains to Brazil'. Their debut record, that made a name for the band. A sad but clever song commenting on the threat of terrorism in the world these days. They re-named the song in tribute to Jean Charles de Menezes, who was shot by the police on the London Underground.

Fyfe introduces all the band members, including the lion. We even got a few words from the lion but he mumbled too much into his microphone for us to be able to make them out.

They end with a hyperactive 'Sao Paulo' with lots of percussion, with all the roadies joining in and Fyfe banging a dustbin lid.

A good gig but too many slow moments for me but then they're that sort of band. L compares them a little to Elbow, although not as witty or crowd friendly. Equally, if not more, nod-off-able at times. The new, dare I say 'disco', stuff doesn't really quite fit in their repertoire but gives an interesting contrast and possibly widens their appeal. I think perhaps, Fyfe is going through a mid-life crisis. You're supposed to start doing more slow songs when you get older but he's going the other way.

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(Photos pinched off the Guillemots forum. Sorry)

The Delays, Sheffield Leadmill

We drive up to Sheffield, which takes only around 45 minutes in all. The Delays are playing at the Leadmill, which is one of my favourite venues. You can usually park more or less outside and so it proves tonight. It's a good job because L's in heels and a skirt.

We just catch the dieing seconds of the first band but catch all of main support, Rotherham band The Tivoli, who have brought their own fervent following with them. The band have been together for quite a few years, despite a few line-up changes, and finally have a debut album due to be released. They are competent musicians and good though they are in parts, I feel they're trying too hard to be U2 or something like. They prove that they are well capable of a Dylan-esque rock out but everything seems to go on a bit too long. There are no three-minute gems here, only six-minute epics. If they can teach their songs to know when to finish, then they might be onto something.



Even after the Tivoli faithful have moved on, there's still a pretty large crowd for the main event, although the Leadmill is still far from full. There's a real mix of ages, some people who don't even look 14, some who look much older than me. Size wise the Leadmill is a step up from the Social, where we saw them in March. It's good to see bands in small intimate venues but the Social is possibly too small, they'll at least have room to move around on stage here. We're fairly near the front and L is worried about crowd surfers but I think she'll be safe tonight. In any case we've left Daughter at home.

Again The Delays road crew takes ages setting up, fiddling with equipment and it's a different chap this time, so it must be in their job description. The PA is again playing 'Raspberry Beret', so that again appears to be the signal for the band to get ready.

Southampton's finest take the stage and play 'Girls On Fire' which is also the opener to their new album 'Everything's The Rush'. Second up is their often forgotten single 'Lost In A Melody' from 2004. A track they released between their first two albums and which didn't appear on either.

The band are soon into their stride in front of an appreciative crowd and treat us to what they describe as 'festival practice' by playing 'Hideaway' and getting everyone singing, clapping and arm waving. It's good to see such an enthusiastic crowd. Recent single 'Hooray' follows and despite the fact that it's a hot sweaty night, the crowd bounce along in time. Gravity defying in the case of some of the girls present.



Naturally there's a lot from the new album tonight which seems to boast 'bigger' and happier tunes than the previous 'You See Colours'. Of the stuff we heard in March, 'Touchdown', a song they say they originally wrote as a jingle for foreign radio or something, sounds more joyful this time and 'Pieces' too improves on second listen. Other new tracks such as 'Your Friends Are False' also come over well, although it's hard to spot any 'big' singles among them.

Among the old stuff, it was good to hear 'Wanderlust' played and when they followed it with 'Nearer Than Heaven' the Leadmill was really rocking. L even accuses me of joining in, catching me at a weak moment.



Again they close with 'Valentine', and the place is well ... bouncing.

After the roadie chap reappears for a bit more fiddling, they return to play the same encore as before 'Panic Attacks' followed by 'You And Me'.



Another good gig. Greg, Aaron and the rest of the band seemed really up for it, on good form and revelling in the extra space of the Leadmill. It was a performance with plenty of passion and energy. Possibly the best way to describe a night with the Delays is 'a happy night'.

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The Wombats, Rock City

We arrive nice and early at Rock City to catch the support band but find the stage already having lots of Wombats signs draped around it and furry creatures arranged on top of the amps. Not all of which look like Wombats, in fact one looks like the Loch Ness Monster. Anyhow, disappointingly it appears we've missed seeing Nottingham's own synth-pop duo 'I was a cub scout' (or is that 'Iwasacubscout', I'm never sure).

The earliest I can recall a main band hitting the stage at Rock City is 9pm; tonight at round 8.50pm the background music is suddenly turned up. One minute we're grooving gently to MGMT the next its 'Karma Chameleon' for which the assembled masses go mental. This appears to be the final warm-up act.

The barbershop style acapella of 'Tales Of Girls, Boys And Marsupials' heralds the arrival of the band and leads us into (the needlessly re-released) 'Kill the Director'. It sounds good, fast, and vibrant as the band hurl themselves into it and the crowd respond with equal amounts of hurling. It’s the first of many songs about 'a gender I'll never understand', so says singer and lyricist Matthew Murphy. Their album 'A Guide to Love, Loss and Desperation' is basically Murphy's singing blog, the 'rough guide' to being dumped by women. Sweet Louise is up next, on the school bus ('School Uniforms'), whatever happened to her.



The Wombats are a three-piece from Liverpool. As well as Matthew Murphy, there's drummer Dan Haggis and bass player Tord Øverland-Knudsen, a Norwegian who, a bit like fellow Scandinavian and honorary Scouser Jan Molby, made his home in the city. Both are very adept with the 'Wooo-oooh-oooh' backing vocals but they all appear to be in a hurry to get somewhere and the Wombats blow through Rock City like a hurricane.

At first Murphy's voice doesn't sound that strong, perhaps he's losing it after so much touring or perhaps he's just being drowned out by the fervent crowd, who bellow every word back at him. Thankfully they seem to turn his voice up louder as the gig goes on, hence we get a storming rendition of debut single 'Lost In The Post' where his girl has 'gone where all the letters we write to Santa go'. The poor chap has had even less luck in love than me.



His women and his humiliations come and go, thick and fast. Laura (lost in the forest), Suzanne the GP (she gives you pills and all sorts) and Patricia the stripper, 'this ones about falling in love with a whore.' 'Tricia' goes down exceptionally well tonight, it I can say that, as does a totally rampant 'Moving To New York', with Tord hammering out it's bass line.

I had feared that tonight's crowd would be another bunch of screaming teenage girls, like the Hoosiers, like Scouting For Girls, but thankfully it's not. It's actually a good mix of people who have come to pay homage and go mad in the mosh pit. Murphy asks the crowd if they've got enough water, well they did, but they all keep throwing it up in the air. Please don't give them any more.

I see several people trying to crowd surf right from the back of the floor to the stage. I've not seen that attempted for many a year. Ouch! I've also never seen anyone manage it, they usually end like that poor chap did, falling on his head.

As they launch into 'Little Miss Pipedream', 'she gets hammered and goes home with other guys' and finish off with Murphy's tale of dancing drunkenly on a table with his girlfriend to 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' aka 'Lets Dance To Joy Division'. It's good but it's all a bit predictable, there are no surprises. So far we've had 11 of the 13 tracks off the album and just one other track, a new song, 'How To Pack Your Bags And Leave', and nothing else.

They return for the encore and as expected play the two missing numbers. Disappointingly there's no Norwegian rendition of ‘Postman Pat’, none of their cranky cover versions (Leona Lewis, Take That, Bryan Adams etc) and nothing from the multitude of clever b-sides that they've produced. Not even the excellent 'Derail and Crash', a particular favourite of mine and there's no giant inflatable wombat either. Douglas where are you? One small mercy I suppose.



An absolutely stonking 'My First Wedding', Murphy's tale of knocking off the bride, not that he's bitter about it, 'She'll steal your mind first and then your car'. Well I suppose it is Liverpool.

Then finally there's 'Backfire At The Disco', or how not to behave on a first date. Ah I remember it all so well. The song prompts a near-riot, the dance floor becoming one seething mass.

So maybe it's all a bit childish and as you'd expect the band don't take themselves too seriously but Murphy's autobiographical observations on life are genius, all held together by a sharp, catchy sound. The Wombats bring a refreshing touch of humour into a music scene that can sometimes take itself a little too seriously. For sure it's another case of it's going to be a difficult second album and to make matters worse Murphy has apparently now got a steady girlfriend. You're going to have to get her to dump you mate or else what are you going to write about next.

It's just a shame it's was all over in around an hour. Another half-an-hour on stage and half-a-dozen more songs and it would have been right up there as one of the gigs of the year.

Did it backfire at Rock City, certainly not.

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Forward Russia, Rescue Rooms

Tonight its Leeds oddities ¡Forward, Russia! with their artful industrial rock and interesting line in typography.

We miss the interestingly named 'Cats and cats and cats' but catch the end of 'Johnny Foreigner' who are an intriguing three-piece, two lads, one girl from Birmingham. They produce one hell of a noise with their fast and loud, scuzzy guitars. They consist of a slightly mental guitarist (male), lots of whaling and screaming, together with his slightly calmer sidekick on bass (female). Between them they enjoy quite a bit of boy-girl vocal interplay, well mainly shouting. It's actually quite a potent mix, a bit like the Subways on valium. Oodles of energy and an interesting aggressive sound, rough at the edges but also rather charming, worth another listen.



Last time we saw ¡Forward, Russia! we were in the sweatbox of the Health & Safety nightmare that is Junktion 7, tonight we have space and room to breathe in a half-full Rescue Rooms. Daughter is with us again but it's her first time at the Rescue Rooms. She gets asked for id at the door to see if she's allowed to order food. I think the girl on the door had had too many shandies, I think she meant drink!

Tickets obviously haven't apparently been selling like hot cakes, it’s clearly going to be an intimate gig, and we don't have any problems getting down the front. Where the road crew are double and triple taping the cable to the main microphone which means that the band must be due and said microphone is in for a bit of ill treatment.

Guitarist and main spokesperson Whiskas introduces the first track, 'Spring is a condition'. Yep you heard right, the band that only did songs by numbers now have tracks with proper titles, you know with words in them. They don’t ‘do’ numbers anymore. This seems to be to allow them to let they're imagination run wild, hence we get titles like 'Don't reinvent what you don't understand', which is second up tonight.

Yes, from a commercial point of view, I can see the point of titles but personally I would have retained the numbers alongside. The band will never sound 'commercial', I mean you're unlikely to ever see a ¡Forward, Russia! CD on the shelves of your local Tesco. If you ask Mr or Mrs Average about the band, you'll probably get a very blank look. This is probably why the turn out tonight is slightly disappointing. The numbers were a good gimmick and bands need gimmicks.

The average person, perhaps, just isn’t ready for Tom Woodhead but all the same, welcome back Tom, we've missed you screaming in our faces. From the moment the first chord is launched, he is off on one, into his usual manic convulsions, as if his feet have been plugged into the mains supply.



The punk-funk of 'Twelve' gets the crowd moving and Tom too of course, spiralling himself up in his microphone cord as he launches into something I assume he thinks is a dance routine.

Next we get a brooding rendition of last years 'Don't be a Doctor' and recent single 'Breaking Standing' which highlights their newer more gentle sound. A record that was of course criminally overlooked.

'A Prospector can Dream' is more like their old tried and tested formula, with its pounding, dense rhythm. Whereas a lot of the new 'Life Processes' album sees them adopting a generally more thoughtful sound.

We get a couple of 'numbers' from 2006's 'Give Me A Wall'. One of my favourite albums of that year. I get a poke in the back as L's favourite 'Nineteen' makes an appearance followed by another old favourite in 'Thirteen' accompanied by the appropriate vocal histrionics from Tom.



Tom is now giving the microphone, the expected ill treatment and swinging it around his head. Thankfully it looks like they've done a good job with that extra tape and there's more room on the stage for them here, at Junktion 7 it appeared as if they were practically stacked on top of each other.

Bassist Rob Canning is his usual anonymous self while Whiskas chitchats with the crowd. He tries to get some football banter going as it appears he's a Forest fan despite the fact that the band hail from Leeds. It falls flat because I think most of the audience are transient students and not locals. He makes his apologies to a chap who he was watching the football with next door because he told him that they expected to be on stage at 9.30, when in fact they took the stage a 9.00. 'Yeah, you bastard' comes the reply. Apology accepted then.

Last time, the perspiration was simply pouring off Katie behind her drum kit, regrettably tonight it isn't. In fact she plays the efficient ice maiden throughout and barely breaks sweat.

Newbie 'Gravity and Heat' with it's quieter, prettier parts leads us into their debut record 'Nine', which still sounds fresh and different. Tom promptly goes off on another yelping hissy fit, gyrating away to the juddering beat.

Whiskas tells us we're a 'nice audience', as long as we haven't got our Daughters locked up in our basements. Topical eh? I'm not sure there are many here who have Daughters and ours is stood beside us.

Towards the end we get the predictable bingo calling routine as people shout for their favourite tracks by number. I'm not even convinced that some of the numbers being called actually exist as tracks.



They finish with two new tracks. One of those new wordy titles 'A shadow is a shadow is a shadow'. The new stuff doesn't quite grab you by the throat and spit at you like the old stuff does but it's still not bad. It's more melodic and with tracks like the nine-minute long 'Spanish Triangles' which they close with tonight, they try and be 'epic' but I'm not sure it totally works. A song they describe as 'needing to get out of our system'. They are joined by Bentley the technician on guitar, although his talent in this department seems limited. I think he's there to add a bit of glamour, I think L fancies him.

They return very swiftly for an encore, as if they were worried the crowd might change their mind. They play a storming 'Fifteen', part two naturally.

¡Forward, Russia! may not ‘do’ numbers anymore but they still do throbbingly good gigs.

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We Are Scientists, Rock City

It's our third time at Rock City in seven days and we arrive nice and early, and catch most of the support band, Oxford Collapse. They are from New York, just like tonight's headliners but more specifically from Brooklyn, which according to We Are Scientists makes a difference. Oxford Collapse are not a new band, having three full-length albums to their name dating back to 2002. They are pleasant enough without being spectacular. A lively jangling guitar sound, that has been compared to early REM but I'm not convinced by that evaluation. Much to the delight of the crowd they are joined on stage by Keith from the Scientists for a couple of songs.

Just after 8.30, early because it's a Saturday, the Scientists take the stage. Now cut down to a two-piece of singer Keith Murray on guitar and Chris Cain on bass after the departure of drummer Michael Tapper late last year. Their numbers are swelled tonight with the addition of a replacement drummer Adam Aaronson and an additional keyboard player Max Hart who also adds occasional rhythm guitar.

They open the set in the way the new album opens with 'Ghouls, which sounds rough as they don't appear to have the sound right, before explo-oh-oh-oh-oooh-ding into 'Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt' which sends Rock City mental. About half way through that song they do seem to correct the sound, although L begs to differ. She's disappointed that the sound the band seem to prefer to put out live is much rougher than on record. In a way she's right, there is probably a touch too much bass and the vocals a bit too low in the mix. The wall of sound they turn out did often swamp the tunes. They are also very loud.



Having jumped from the new album straight back to the old, they stay with 'With Love And Squalor' and play the first three track off it, in order, before returning to the new stuff to play that song about teenage girls and their contacts lenses. Sorry, couldn't resist that one, private family joke. After 'Impatience' they continue to alternate between their two records, playing pretty much all of both of them. Which did mean there were a few not so good ones in there.

We get 'Cash Cow', 'Can't Lose', 'Callbacks' and new single 'Chick Lit'. That's four 'C' songs in a row, was that deliberate?

Between songs they 'entertain' the crowd with their inane wit. Stuff like asking if anyone is wearing a swimsuit. Keith confesses he is, a two-piece bikini with sharks and swordfishes all over it. It sounds improbable but you get the impression, that with Keith, it's not actually too far fetched.



We also get banter about other bizarre things too, along with some Nottingham references. They got some right, Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham but what was all the stuff about King Arthur? Very weird, they're at least 150 miles out. American humour eh?

A bit of a bugbear was the 'flawless' transitions between tracks or rather the tactic of running one track into another, which I didn't like. This they probably had to do to make up for the time they wasted chatting or else they wouldn't have got more than half-a-dozen songs in.

That apart they certainly knew how to get the crowd going, take note Roy Stride, and the energy that the band conveyed especially by Keith rubbed off on the crowd. The whole place was buzzing. Keith gets his shirt ripped open when he goes into the crowd, there's no swordfish bikini, the rotten liar!

Down the front is where it's all happening and Daughter has requested being accompanied down there. I'm tempted, although it's that packed near the bottom of the steps that we're perched on, it would be a nightmare to fight a way through.

Michael Pace from Oxford Collapse returned Keith's earlier favour by joining them on stage to perform 'After Hours'. A song that does my head in because it's got a really familiar guitar rift in it that I'm sure they've pinched from somewhere but I can't think where.



In fact the new album seems to have plenty of outside influences but when they play 'Tonight' tonight, it sounds like, well no one but 'We Are Scientists'. Chris confesses that the new album 'Brain Thrust Mastery' isn't actually new at all as it's been out in New Zealand for three years... hmmm.

They close with an excellent 'Lousy Reputation' and the overrated single 'It's A Hit', which wasn't.

They return to the stage for an encore to a roar from the crowd. 'That's What Counts' is followed by 'Lethal Enforcer', a good track that to me borrows a lot from, of all people, 'Hall and Oates' They conclude with a bang, to the crowds delight, with 'The Great Escape', which pretty much everyone was jumping about to.

A good gig. Storming you might say, if a bit rough at the edges but I like a bit of rough. I head home with sore ears.

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Elbow, Rock City

We're back at Rock City to see Elbow. They're more L's sort of thing than mine. She says they're very mushy and she's worried that I might nod off at the gig but I've been swotting up on them and I rather like them. If I can stay awake at 'Scouting For Girls' and 'The Hoosiers' then Elbow shouldn't be a problem.

L and Daughter are already down at Rock City while I'm aiming to get there for 9.30, which is when the main bands usually take to the stage. So I can tell you nothing of the highly rated 'Two Gallants' who were supporting. I can also tell you nothing of the opening of Elbow's set, playing 'Starlings' armed with trumpets apparently, because they came on at 9pm and I didn't get there until quarter past.

When I get there, after I manage to find someone to take my ticket, the band are playing 'Great Expectations'. I try and find L but it's so packed I can't get through to where she says she is. I wasn't expecting a crowd. I though everyone would be lounging around on blankets and in deckchairs. I was so convinced that it would be sedate and only half full, that I even considered getting the dog a ticket.

I move through the crowd to the front, which is amazingly easy, no moshing tonight. The band launch into 'Mirrorball', beautiful and dazzling but slightly nod-off-able. Elbow are sometimes so laid back they're horizontal and some of their tracks do make you want to reach for the newspaper. At other times they're simply stunning.

After another track, 'Red' I believe, I decide I can possibly make it up the back steps, across the balcony to try and find L and Daughter from above. I have a go and find them; they have a great spot on the stairs. I join them and, because a lot of people find it impossible to stand still for 90 minutes, I'm immediately totally in the way. People are constantly pushing past me, including a chap who smells like he's soaked his jacket in nicotine. At least, thankfully some of the people squeezing past me are female.

From this new position I can take in the scene. Elbow are a five-piece from Bury and are fronted by Guy Garvey, a cheery and slightly rotund chap with an interesting line in witty banter. He could make it in stand-up if his voice goes.

As he communicated with the crowd, better than almost any band I can remember and generally legible, he came across as a thoroughly decent and down to earth sort of chap. At one point he tells us about their roadie 'Mexican Wayne' but he doesn't play the track he's hinting at, 'Mexican Wave', nor does he asks us to wake up their bus driver. Thankfully.

His band, as he keeps telling us, are all friends and colleagues of 18 years. I find it hard to believe that they've been together for 18 years and only produced four albums but Wikipedia says it's true, so it must be. In fact the five guys originally formed a band called 'Mr Soft' at Sixth Form College in 1990 but it wasn't until 1997 that they became Elbow. Even then, their debut album 'Asleep in the Back' was not released until 2001.



Tonight Guy also surrounds himself with attractive women, in the form of a three-piece string section and another girlie who's acting as a runner with pints of water for him. The 'orchestra' are balanced at the back of the stage, as there's not much room with a large set of keyboards and an equally large drum kit. It would be a shame if they outgrew venues like Rock City because they need a bigger stage.

I'm on the steps in time to see the band perform their recent single; 'Grounds for Divorce', which sounds amazing live, a rocking departure from their normal style.

'Mondays is for drinking to the seldom seen kid' he tells us. Well no actually Mondays are usually AF for us but if we'd known we'd have had a beer.

The 'Seldom Seen Kid' is their friend Bryan Glancy, a fellow Manchester songwriter, who died recently and has been immortalised in the title of their new album. Like their previous three, it mixes epic melancholy ballads with more upbeat but equally epic numbers. It's also possibly their best.

'Forget Myself' follows and obviously prompts a huge sing-along, many octaves lower than last nights. Tonight's crowd is more mature, although a good mix of ages, with more men, and slimmer women.



Also from the new album, 'The Stops' comes over well and they play a haunting 'Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver' a song about 'love and the construction industry'. All in all, a set pretty much filled with spellbinding songs. Although regrettably I miss 'Leaders of the Free World' which they threw in early.

Guy reels off details of the latest births accredited to the Potter brothers, Mark on guitar and Craig on keyboards. Some wag enquires whether they have the same mother, it's a rare moment that Guy gets upstaged from the floor. This leads us into 'Newborn', a song about heartbreak and death. Cheery stuff. A powerful track which I was not previously party to.

To end the set Guy orchestrates a mass sing-along to 'One Day Like This'. Judging by the reaction, you would have thought this was a classic from Elbow's past but no, this is a four-week-old cut from the new album and the crowd sing it back to him with glee, although it is due to be released as a single in June. Could this be their 'Run', the big breakthrough that could make them as big as err... 'Snow Patrol'. Perish the thought but they deserve success.

'One day like this a year would see me right'

Yep, not a bad night out.

After the band leave the stage to rapturous applause, the crowd strike up the song again and keep singing until Guy and Craig return to play 'Puncture Repair' while the rest are allegedly on a 'fag break'.

I look behind me and L is still there on the steps and hasn't tottered over into the non-mosh pit. Thankfully no embarrassing stunts from her tonight.

They continue the encore with 'Station Approach', then to finish Guy goes into the crowd and hand picks ten lucky souls to join him on stage to dance and sing along to 'Grace Under Pressure'. Naturally he chooses the best-looking girls together with a few guys to make it not look too obvious. Although he does seem to let some plonker slip through the net.

So L reckons they're mushy, I reckon mournful is a better word, which isn't the same thing at all.