Music

The final words of Oysterband drummer Lee Partis as he left the Oysterband at 11.15pm on December 12th at the Forum, to go and work with prisoners. Before that it had been one hell of an evening, and indeed one hell of a week. So back to the beginning...

I actually own only one album by Billy Bragg, and I looked at a day or so ago to find it was released in 1983. However Billy appears on almost as many of my albums as does Eliza Carthy (and often on the same ones!). I haven't seen him live since the great days of the GLC free concerts, and owning to a rare cock-up on dates failed to see him earlier this year. But we did manage his final date of an endless tour, at Shepherds Bush Empire. He walked on stage at 9.00pm with his electric guitar, distorted to make it sound punk, and entertained a sell-out crowd for two hours. Quite what sort of event it was, I really don't know. Part concert, part political rally, part stand-up, part religious revival. This is a man who can have 2000 people roaring their support for socialist principles and in support of their unions; there is no logical reason why Billy Bragg still exists, but he certainly does

There are a couple of reasons why he is the most unlikely survivor of the early 80s; one is he writes damn good songs and secondly he is hugely entertaining. The occasional left-wing rant is not so much acceptable as expected, but his stories are brilliant. Being in the Green Room before Andrew Marr, Alistair Darling walks in. ' Good God! Billy Bragg' he says. 'Are you still playing gigs?' 'Good God, Alistair Darling. Are you still Chancellor?' In between a selection of high energy songs old and new, most of which were accompanied by the audience in word-perfect fashion - and Milk of Human Kindness isn't the easiest sing-along! I hadn't expected the audience (which you could describe as 'mixed') to be so enraptured. The man has serious fans, who listen, sing and applaud wildly at every moment. He did have a few guests, but he doesn't exactly work them hard (just one song each) the best of which was Badly Drawn Boy, who played some beautiful guitar. All the favourites are there, played stormingly with total passion. Hard to describe, but utterly wonderful.

His support was something of a revelation as well. Otis Gibbs is real Woodie Guthrie throwback. A blue-collar drop-out who has been travelling the railways since he as a kid with a guitar on his back and singing with the sound of gravel. His denim costume and thick beard invite comparisons with Seasick Steve, but Otis is very much of the sixties singer songwriter tradition - there was nothing here Joan Baez would have found unfamiliar. American liberal songs, sung from the depths with lovely links. The man is well worth catching on his own account.

The bizarre link with Oysterband was The World Turned Upside Down. Although written by Leon Rosselson, both Billy and Oysters did version of this song about The Diggers, a great socialist song for our generation. This was by far the most 'commercial' set I have heard from the Oysterband, Generally they mix it up with their guests and never really do a set as such. Not only did they do a traditional hierarchical set, it was loud, angry, hardcore and brilliant. Clearly they decided to push the rock rather then the folk as they tore through a brilliant set of songs old and new. Highlights were too many to recount really, though a surging Bells of Rhymney was a moment to remember. But the most exceptional moment was the encore. They did Put out the Lights acoustically - with no microphones. After over 2 hours on stage John Jones used genuine vocal quality to reach the back of the Forum, but as soon as the chorus was reached the crowd took over. A very special moment.

Oysters too had special support; the ever excellent Spiers and Boden were followed by the re-formed Edward II - a reggae folk combo... You have heard nothing till you have heard solo squeezebox over a tight roots reggae backing! Brilliant. I gather Edward II are planning on doing the festivals this summer, so look out for them.

So, five days, two amazing gigs from left-wing bands who have been around 30 years or more. Two audiences who cheered the supports to the rafters and knew their songs perfectly. Musically, the year has gone out on a quite extraordinary high...

In 1649
To St George's Hill
A ragged band they called the Diggers
Come to show the people's will
They defied the landlords
They defied the law
They were the dispossessed
Reclaiming what was theirs

'We come in peace' they said
'To dig and sow
We come to work the land in common
And to make the waste land grow
This earth divided
We will make whole
So it can be
A common treasury for all

The sin of property
We do disdain
No one has any right to buy and sell
The earth for private gain
By theft and murder
They took the land
Now everywhere the walls
Rise up at their command

They make the laws
To chain us well
The clergy dazzle us with heaven
Or they damn us into hell
We will not worship
The God they serve
The God of greed who feeds the rich
While poor men starve

We work, we eat together
We need no swords
We will not bow to masters
Or pay rent to the lords
We are free men
Though we are poor
You Diggers all stand up for glory
Stand up now

From the men of property
The orders came
They sent the hired men and troopers
To wipe out the Diggers' claim
Tear down their cottages
Destroy their corn
They were dispersed
But still the vision lingers on

You poor take courage
You rich take care
This earth was made a common treasury
For everyone to share
All things in common
All people one
We come in peace -
The order came to cut them down

I think I have written previously on these page about Ken Bain's band, Lights Going Out. We saw them last year, playing on the back of a lorry in foul weather. They weren't great, I have to admit. But as they were officially supporting a band Ken really rates we thought we would go up and see them again, this time safely indoors at an excellent rock venue in Nottingham, The Running Horse. It was somewhat different. Essentially instead of playing covers not terribly well they were playing entirely self-penned songs - and they really were not half bad. There are things which could be improved, but the sound was good, the playing vastly better, singing hugely improved but most importantly there are some good songs. Improved vocals will help get the impact of the words across, but at present it is the up tempo songs that work, most notably final track Sub Prime - a terrific number. All in all a huge improvement and really, they are worth seeing!

The band were supporting Surrey's 'blue-collar warrior', Micky Kemp, who seems to be a huge fan of Lights Going Out. The feeling is mutual, however and after about ten seconds you could see why. He may hail from Farnham, but Micky has a real American Blues feel. Perhaps Country Blues is the best description, though Springsteenish gives the best idea. These US sounding blues songs included stories of going to Hayling Island driving ford Cortinas. Strangely English, yet very American. They also boasted a genuinely fabulous guitarist, Darrell Bath, who used to play with Ian Hunter. It is rare to be up close in a tiny venue with a fabulous player like this. A joy to behold. Hopefully this will be first of many, many times to see this wonderful young musician. http://www.myspace.com/mickykempband

Less than 48 hours later we were at the 100 Club to see Rod Anderson's Band with No Name doing a Sunday night for charity. BWNN are a covers band - but a bloody good one - loud too. They stormed through 90 minutes of top quality rock/pop with barely a pause, a rocking set which also raised £2500 for Cancer Relief

. They plan to do it again, and if you fancy a really good-time boogie, make sure you don't miss it.

A few days later and I found myself right a the front of the Hammersmith Apollo for Primal Scream. It is some time since I did the front few rows of a big gig, but luckily the Primal fans are pretty civilized. Apart for a bit of a beer shower and not being able to hear for a day, it was good! I have seen Primal from the balcony of the Academy and in a field in Kent, but the front row was the way to do it. My only criticism is that they are too good, too professional and too cool; it would be good if they let it go a bit! But their track list is phenomenal, and they really did make some serious noise! Once they hit the greatest hits sequence they are unstoppable. Lots of Beautiful Future, lots of Exterminator and Country Girl as an encore - almost 2 hours of non-stop rock and crushing noise; at times you just felt nothing but vibration. Great, great fun and how do they keep knocking out such great tunes?

I took my camera thinking that being at the front would make for good pictures... how wrong can you be?

We have gone out of our way to attend smaller and more unusual gigs this year, but nothing quite surpasses seeing Rap in the hallowed entrance of the British Library. But all power to them for allowing a selection of musicians into a library which is still rowing about the suitability of undergraduates being allowed in! Oh, and at £5 entrance, it was one of the cheaper nights of the year. The justification for all this was the launch of their new exhibition Taking Liberties: The Struggle for Britain's Freedoms and Rights - an important and timely display charting the struggle for liberty from Magna Carta to the Good Friday Agreement.

It was not exactly a perfect venue; site lines were horrid and the sound ridiculously echoed in the barn-like entrance. But it was intimate, cheap and , well, just a damned fine thing to do! First up were a bunch of street protest singers called Raised Voices who sing unaccompanied protest songs at demos and marches in a sort of chapel-like manner. Their set included The Diggers (trad, I think, but I know it from Billy Bragg) a Euwan McColl song on travellers and ended with the Internationale! Weird but.... interesting. So to the ever wonderful (and apparently pregnant) Eliza Carthy, this time dueting with melodianist Saul Rose. She was as magnificent as ever, and in particularly fine voice. I'm not sure if this was stranger venue than last time we saw her - The Princess Pavilions in Falmouth. We had not come across Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip, but they had a huge number of fans there. This was intelligent rap/hip-hop and really rather entertaining. The lack of vocal clarity meant we were not too clear on the detail of their songs, but in general they were entertaining and engaging; certainly worth trying to see again. Finally we saw Mark Chadwick and Simon Friend, two of the founders of The Levellers. This acoustic greatest Hits of the Levellers was, I thought, fabulous stuff. Having seen The Levellers twice in the past year, this was a rather wonderful opportunity to hear some of their songs anew. Though What a Beautiful Day does stick in your head for just too long. There was another band to fiish, but we had had our money's worth and meandered home, still struggling to take on board the surreality of the event.

My main worry, as we set out for our second Rhythm Festival, was that after enjoying last year so much, could this be anything other than a let-down? It was surely impossible to enjoy anything so much again. Last year’s mix of blues, ska and folk was just fantastic, I can still recall the Yardbirds, Levellers, Blaockheads, Joe Bonamassa and Neville Staples sets. And this year the bill was even more dominated by ‘old timers’; The Animals, Pretty Things, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Zombies, Stackridge and Jefferson Starship were all performing over the weekend.

I have some worries about going to see old bands who reform, run through their hits of thirty years ago, and take the money. In Introduction to Philosophy at college a couple of years ago, we looked at the Thesius Paradox where Thesius sailed non-stop, constantly rebuilding his ship as he travelled, throwing the wood behind him as he went. Behind him rode another sailor picking up the discarded planks and assembling them into a ship. The question was, once the second ship was completed, which was Thesius’ ship? Not too difficult when thinking about the likes of Fairport Convention, who have gigged non-stop for thirty years (errr, forty years) through the inevitable changes in personnel, but The Animals?

Interestingly the bands themselves must feel this, as they all give complex historiographies of the members playing. So The Animals had a founder member John Steel on drums (who MUST be over 65 by my reckoning) and Mick Gallagher from the 1964 line-up on keyboards. The Zombies really were Blunstone and Argent, but I liked the fact that while their bass player, Jim Rodford was not an original member he did lend them the kit for their first gig; and it was the Jim’s son Steve on drums. The Pretty Things again had two founder members in the line up, with youngsters supporting (reasonable since two of their original line-up have died in the past 5 years). I think the situation with Quicksilver Messenger Service (who never really were a band, just a rolling jam session) and Jefferson Starship is different, given that everyone on the West Coast scene played with both of them over the years. I think Frieberg and Kantner do make Starship authentic. Then there is the music. The Zombies played new music, the Pretty Things tremendous blues which was not in their chart itinerary and Starship have a new album out this week. Only the Animals were not doing original new material, but they had Steve Cropper.

There were not too many differences from last year on the festival site; a proper tent for comedy/alternative acts and several small late-night venues. The food was OK, beer and cider better, but no programmes. A typical modern, stupid rule (presumably health and safety) meant that we were not supposed to walk from the campsite to the festival site, and a very, very old bus was put on. Nonsense, of course, but no-one tried to actually enforce this rule. We mainly felt sorry for the driver doing the same 90 second (we timed it!) journey endlessly. On Sunday evening they had the camouflaged museum bus in operation as well, and the driver having a dog on a lead with him added to the interest!

The first act we saw on Friday was Gandalf Murphy & the Slambovian Circus of Dreams, who proved to be one of the most spectacular successes of the weekend. This strange band’s mix of hippie-dippidom, mixed with great communication and music proved a huge success. Interestingly the man himself was noticeable for joining the crowd to see many other bands over the weekend. He did an early stint on Sunday as well but by then the Gandalf CDs had long ago sold out. We heard Michelle Shocked from across the field but were with the masses for The Animals. The Animals were for me, after the Beatles, the formative band of my youth. House of the Rising Sun was a defining single, even if I didn’t know it was the start of my life’s love of blues. I still have my selection of Animals singles bought when I was still at Junior School, and a commendable selection of how to subvert the single

s pop charts they are. This version of the band included Tony Liddle, a young and very good singer, together with two real old timers, the keyboard player from the 60s, Mick Gallagher and the original drummer, John Steel. Mick Gallagher proved to be a revelation, perhaps there was not much time for creative keyboards in the 60s 3 minute pop single, but this man can play and has a CV to match. They knocked off top quality version of the ‘hits’ including Don’t let me be misunderstood, and the anti-Vietnam classic, We Gotta Get Out of this Place, all great stuff, and then Steve Cropper joined them. Steve, voted best living guitarist my Mojo was a founder of Booker T and MGs and guitarist for the Stax house band in the sixties. A really good set turned to genius with the first strains of Green Onions….then Put a Spell on You, Soul Man, Dock of the Bay…. And some awesome name-dropping. It all ended with House of the Rising Son better than it ever could have been before. A huge high point for so early in the weekend. We saw a brief bit of Big Star, but they were never going to compete with Steve Cropper so it was Chas and Dave to see out the night.

Saturday we were out impressively early to see the end of Smashing Time – a solid London ska-ish outfit, and then across to the Alternative Stage for PJ Wright (part of Little Johnny England) for some ironic little songs (my favourite line of the weekend - How can we make a living, delivering pizzas to each other), and then Delroy Williams for some Jamaican audience banter - D: How are yer feelin? Audience: Bullshit!!!! So what could a Quicksilver Messenger Service be like in 2008? Fucking good in fact, and they lived up to the rambling, jammin’ style they were famous for. Amanda was blown away by the driving blues/rock improvised guitar dominated old hippie shit stuff. And so was I! This was followed by the most original and creative set of the weekend, ex PIL bassist Jah Wobble playing reggae/jazz/world fusion music. One fabulous girl singer doing scat jazz vocals, his wife playing ancient Chinese stringed instruments and other guy playing anything you could blow into and a passionate fuzz guitarist. This was just brilliant! The mid-evening set was The Pretty Things, and the crowd was impressive. They slightly passed me by in the 60s and I was bemused by the high

expectations. Again, the band is based around two original members, vocalist Phil May and guitarist Dick Taylor. They took us through their early oeuvre with some style, and it was highly enjoyable. Then Phil talked about meeting Dick at Sidcup Art College (Where Dick was in a band with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards) and how they used to do some blues together. Cue for a blues duo from the two old timers, just steel guitar and vocals and everything went up a gear - or several. The rest of the set was blistering blues, including a stunning version of Hoochy Coochie Man. The crowd was ecstatic and roars were of sheer pleasure. This was a revelation. We wandered off to hear Stackridge and found them rubbish, and the Saw Doctors were good fun, but too Irish for Amanda’s tastes, so back to the tent for coffee.

On Sunday we woke to the unmistakeable sound of rain, but luckily it was only showery through the afternoon. So we started with Dani Wilde, a 21 year old Brighton girl far too young to sing blues as well as she did. Her brother Will ‘harmonica’ Wilde played some stunning blues harp as well. Not fully formed as yet, but we would love to see then again in a better venue (ie not in the rain at lunch time!). Back to the main stage for The Zombies; good God is Colin Blunstone pretty! He and Rod Argent must be in their sixties but you really wouldn’t notice. On the whole a pleasant set, rather than earth shattering, but the more progressive Argent songs were very enjoyable. Still, Hold your Head up!, She's Not There and God Gave Rock and Roll were all great, the band thoroughly enjoyed everything and it was all good. So to California part two – Jefferson Starship. Paul Kantner, David Freiberg, Cathy Richardson, Slick Aguilar, Donny Baldwin and Chris Smith. 90 minutes of stunning music. More focussed (as you might expect) than QMS, with the truly wonderful Cathy Richardson doing her Grace Slick thing with attitude, and Kantner chain smoking and swearing his way through the set. Another band who seemed stress-free, fully in command and utterly wonderful. Admittedly the average age of the audience was as high as those on stage, but this was a triumph nonetheless. The rain started, but not enough to put off the ever-wonderful Ritchie Havens who talked his fans through the rain and p

layed his unique music of joy – and two ex-Woodstock acts one after the other – not bad for Bedfordshire! Then, sadly, it really started to rain so we took refuge in the Marquee Tent to eat, see some comedy and the intriguing burlesque (no photos of that, I'm afraid!).

Monday saw another different weather pattern and we took the damp tent down in an English gale, with white clouds scurrying through a blue sky. So it was not a disappointment at all, and the ‘old’ bands all put up a great performance. Starship really are worth seeing after all these years, and I will probably buy their new album, Pretty Things again are worth seeing again, as, of course, is Steve Cropper in any form you like. The Rhythm Forum is a peon of praise for Gandalf Murphy, while Jah Wobble provided the originally and Dani Wilde the promise of blues for the future. I don’t know if the festival attracted sufficient punters to make it financially viable; it certainly seemed quieter than last year, but I hope so. It is a great weekend if you like a specific type of music, and Jim Driver once again earns the thanks and respect of generations of rock and blues fans.

A good time to mention a few CDs I have bought recently. Some of you may have noticed that I have been less than happy with Spiritualized the last couple of times I have seen them. They have moved, which is good, but not in a direction I particularly like. The last live performance we saw of them, was far too close to taking themselves seriously as a gospel band; what I have always enjoyed is the loud, messy fuzzed-up wreck of gospel they produce. So I hesitated long before buying Songs from A&E. And it is an album that is so close to going terribly wrong, on all sorts of fronts, but astonishingly Jason pulls it off, and it is a gem. Vulnerable, rather than sentimental, ironic rather than actually gospel it is quieter than at their peak, but really is a good CD. Similarly Portishead Third is a strange CD. Depressing, weird and sometimes off-putting, I rather like it - but (and this is very good) it needs a lot more listening yet. Neither Amanda nor Mathew seem to think much of it, but I am still working at it! No need to work at Primal Scream Wonderful Future. Rip-roaring, brilliant, blues based Rock. After twenty years of going through every genre possible they end sounding like the Rolling Stones. How does that happen? Two CD emerged from Rhythm, a live album from Jefferson Starship, Live at the Festival Blues Sotto le Stelle and Balboa Island by the Pretty Things. The Jefferson Starship CD is 'very' live - a straight off the sound desk recording. It is pretty much the same set and line-up they played at Rhyhthm (apart from the singer) and has all the joys, the frustrations and eccentricities of that set. I haven't bought a Starhip album for almost thirty years, but it is fine by me. The Pretty Things CD Alboa Island, on the other hand is an absolute classic. Hard to explain, but it sounds very sixties, but re-invented. Apparently Phil May and Dick Taylor having lost their way, went home to Dartford and started playing the delta blues they started on in 1963 - and this is the result. Dark, dirty, bluesy, funny and very raw, these 60 year old rockers can certainly knock out some amazingly good stuff. Probably better than Primal Scream in honesty, a really superb CD.

Our first outdoor music gig of the year was a very 'safe' one-day event in a field in Kent, the Hop Farm Festival. Sadly our stormy, but generally dry spell ended for the Wimbledon Men's final, the British Grand Prix and this festival. Arriving about 2.00pm we listened to a very good set from the Guillemots and were only mildly discomforted by the rain. The rain wasn't really that heavy, but the gale-force winds tended to ensure it was in your face whichever way you turned, and it began to feel like a long day in prospect. Various friends turned up and some even liked Rufus Wainwright. Not my sort of thing, bland American singer-songwriter in the pouring rain; I much preferred his dad! Still towards the end of his set the rain did peter out, and by the time My Morning Jacket came on there was a hint of blue sky. Can't say I know a thing about this band, but they were really enjoyable - a bit different, but I would need to hear more to expand on that judgement! Then it was Supergrass, who again I found perfectly pleasant and listenable to, but I wouldn't want to buy an album. Two of the group are big fans however and disappeared down to the front with the hard-core and they were very happy. And so to Primal Scream. They were a real joy, and Robbie Gillespie actually smiled a lot. Apart form being really short (45 mins) it was a really good, sharp set finishing with great versions of Swastika Eyes and Movin' on Up.

So it had been a really pleasant day in the end. The rain stopped before it got really awful, the mud was minimal, the bands entertaining and listenable to, and a couple of gems from Primal Scream. I wondered what Neil Young might be like....

He walked on looking like an elderly rock star should, in his paint splattered jacket, wild hair and grizzled looks. His voice is stronger and deeper than in his youth and he hit the guitar like no-one I've ever seen. This was no benefit gig, no retirement set but a passionate full on attack. From the first crushing Chords of Love and Only Love I was mesmerised. He attacks his battered guitar with extraordinary venom, and spits the words out. At the end he comments to the audience 'I'd be shit without you...' then it is on to I’ve Been Waiting For You and a couple more blistering electronic tracks. Then he picked up another battered guitar, an acoustic and we were into 'wooden music' including Oh Lonesome Me, Old Man and Heart of Gold.

The volume was turned up again for my favourite moment, Words, a succession to rhythm changes, wonderful singing and fabulous guitar. The final track No Hidden Path didn't quite work as well, but that is a minor carp. He did reappear for an encore - A Day in the Life.

There was a lot I didn't understand about this set - why illuminated letters and numbers were hanging on the stage, why a man seemed to painting pictures at the back, why there was an enormous fan when the wind was still gale-force and why he closed with a psychedelic Beatles track. But none of this matters. Neil Young was awesome, monstrous and astounding. He must have been playing some of those track for the ten-thousandth time and yet they were as fresh with emotion or anger or contempt as they ever were.

After that even the two and a half hour wait to get out of the car park paled into insignificance. Somewhat belatedly I have a new hero.

‘There’s this chap called Pete Molinari playing the 100 Club next week', said Amanda’s brother in law. ‘He’s a young chap but sounds like one of these old guys you two like…’ Not being entirely convinced a swift Google told us that a) Pete Molinari is up for a MOJO award and b) the cost of the tickets was only £8 so why not give it a go?

You don’t have a lot to lose, especially given the beer at the 100 Club is about the same cost as the local pubs, and somewhat better than some! A support act – a duo of blistering guitarist and single-note chanteuse which left us cold – came and went and eventually a very young Italian-looking chap (he is of Italian descent and hails from Chatham) with acoustic guitar and harmonica appeared. He took us swiftly through three singer/songwriter numbers, brilliantly sung and one extraordinary 50s ‘crooner’ number before being joined on stage by a fine harmonica player (sorry, never caught the name). This was a very satisfying section of the gig, presumably because it was the most blues focused. Pete’s excellent voice chimed with some class harmonica playing to great affect and the audience was loving it. Then the band arrived – and my worst fears materialised - a pedal-steel guitar! Pete is an extraordinary throwback. Overall I suppose you could describe him as Country-Blues, and he is located very precisely in the late fifties very early sixties, the time when Nashville was a ‘good thing’. We saw a band last year - Big Chief - who are very precisely 1969 - jazz/rock /blues fusion, but they have the excuse that they were there. Quite why the young Molinari is so 50s oriented is a fascinating question. Sadly the band pushed him more in the direction of country and rock&roll and apart from a splendid version of Folsom Prison Blues as an encore it was frankly downhill from there.

Not that it was an unentertaining or uninteresting evening. Pete is clearly a huge talent – a great singer, great ‘front-man’, pretty good song-writer and adequate guitarist. However, his band are not good enough for him (old friends though they may be) and one wonders how far he can go in this 50s groove unless he can find a more original take on it. With some good advice, better backing musicians and a stroke of luck, he could be huge. Or he could just be another unfulfilled talent.

But at £8 a ticket, if he comes near you, well worth checking out.

http://www.petemolinari.co.uk

Terry Reid

Borderline

I confess I was a little vague about Terry Reid prior to this gig. We all know he famously turned down joining Led Zeppelin, suggesting Jimmy Page as a reasonable alternative, and I did once own a slightly scratched version of his extraordinary LP Superlungs - though I confess I never quite 'got' it. Then last year we failed to see him at Rhythm Festival (he clashed with The Levellers, I think) so when I saw he was on at The Borderline with special guest Mick Taylor, I grabbed some tickets immediately. I do like the Borderline - a tiny venue when you are never more than a few feet from the stage, decent beer, even served in a glass and no searches; you get treated like an adult. And I think rock venues should be a bit dingy and dark and sweaty. They don't keep late hours either, and the man appeared on stage promptly at 8.15, longish curly hair and a hat, a pinkish tan and a northern accent heavily overlaid with California; it was hard not to warm to the man instantly. A bit of a surprise too, as this rock god held an acoustic. He had a band of young lads more than capable of playing the pyrotechnics. And another surprise, the first number The Ballad of Easy Rider - not the rock anthem I was expecting, but what a song, what guitar playing and what an amazing voice! I felt there were similarities, in its all-or-nothing quality to the voice of Joe Cocker, while Amanda heard early Faces. Whatever, it is a full-on, highly distinctive and powerful thing. And the youngsters can certainly play. After a solitary song the place erupted. And it simply got better. Apart from the Byrds, a marvellous piece of crowd participation in the Beach Boys' Don't Worry Baby and vaguely recognising a couple of songs from the mists of time, I didn't really know the music. But this was a faultless set. After an hour Terry strapped on an electric guitar and ripped it up a bit more, but generally this was a relatively soft rock gig with a tinge of country, but so beautifully played.

Unusually, despite his acoustic, Reid still dominated the three electric guitars around him. This was a master class in rhythm guitar, an almost forgotten art form these days. His rhythms were complex, never 4:4, always challenging and always driving his soloists on. Between numbers, he was relaxed, slightly amateur and prone to banter with the dedicated fans who made up most of the audience. Name-dropping went from Graham Nash to Robin Gibb to Jack White (Rich Kid Blues is on the new Raconteurs album) and after two hours it was all over. I wanted to go again the following night, but there were no tickets. And Mick Taylor was ill, but who cares. If you love your guitar music this is not a man to miss.

Camille at Koko

Reviewed by Graham Dougall

The trouble I had finding someone to use my spare ticket for Camille was an indication of how little she is known in this country so far. However she has enough of a following to comfortably sell out Koko even if the numbers were swelled by a vocal French contingent. With her mother an English teacher she grew up a fluent speaker and a number of her newest songs are in English which could broaden her appeal. The lyrics use as much clever wordplay as her French songs.

It must be almost ten years ago I decided to buy a Nick Cave album for no discernable reason. I thought he was a big punk man and expected some angry rock and was surprised to discover I had bought an album which was mostly a man at a piano singing painful, painful songs about love, life and God.... It was mesmeric, and five further albums have arrived, getting progressively rockier and punkier I should say. But I have never seen him live, and rarely had the opportunity, so this was a real must-do gig - and as we had only returned from a short break in France less than 24 hours earlier it had to be good. Bloody hell, it was!

The atmosphere hardly needed stoking. The Odeon ( I spit upon the Apollo!) the Hammersmith Odeon was full, excited and hot. The age range - for once I didn't feel the oldest in the crowd but there were loads of kids too - was enormous and the 51 year old hit the stage like a young punk, shirt slashed to the waist, cavorting round the stage like a lunatic. The band were demonic. Warren Elis played a number of instruments in a destructive way, mostly the electric mandolin which he abused horribly. There were two drummers - because they needed two drummers. The sound was, in fact , fabulous, but very, very loud. Despite my six albums of material, there was much I didn't know, but I enjoy ed the unfamiliar almost as much as the known stuff. He played some storming tracks. The set was almost two hours, and while the quieter mournful songs I first knew were included, it was mostly up front rock that drove the show. Second in was the title track from the new album, the over punctuated Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! a storming round in Cave's vendetta against God - Larry grew increasingly neurotic and obscene/ He never asked to be raised up from his tomb/ No-one ever asked him to forsake his dreams!

There was wonderful, on the edge musicianship, great vocals and extraordinary energy, but this was not a slick show. Between numbers Cave needed a rest (quite reasonably) and he bantered far more with the audience than I expected. The high point of this came when the foldback started emitting strange noises which Cave declared were 'fucking scary up here' and when the crowd started an ironic slow handclap he responded You London CUNTS to total delight of all.

The encores were many, and brilliant. Get Ready for Love, The Lyre of Orpheus, Hard On For Love, Stagger Lee, Into My Arms and Wanted Man. This is a man who has written some of the most angry, passionate and extraordinary rock music of all time. Staggering back out into the hot night it felt like a privilege to have seen him. One of the most talented and unfathomable music presences I have ever seen.

After a fifteen month boycott, Amanda and I returned to Brixton to see The Levellers play a twentieth anniversary gig to their devoted following. In many ways, it felt good to be back. For all its problems, there is a tremendous atmosphere at the Academy on evenings like this, rarely matched anywhere else. We caught most of the support act - Dreadzone, who played exciting cross-over music and had great stage presence. They had their fans in the audience too, and all credit to the stage crew who had The Levellers out around twenty minutes after Dreadzone came off.

As I am sure you all know, The Levellers are a folk/Punk fusion, who play furiously energetic versions modern folk songs. They are very loud, very passionate and hugely energetic. Once again, it was the bass player who can hardly help catching ht eye as he strides the stage, climbing on anything he can climb. As at Rhythm, the enormous didgeridoo made its appearance and in the encore a three person brass section. In between we had guitar solos, dancing fiddles, great repartee with the audience and all their best songs, including England My Home, Dirty Davey, Warning, One Way of Life and of course, What a Beautiful Day; but for me the best of the bunch was Carry Me.

The atmosphere was brilliant, and the pit heaving, but again those of us upstairs had to run the gamut of the security which refuses to let us stand up. Clearly the few security men haven't a hope of stopping us, so why bother? We spoke to one of the chaps at the end, pointing out that 'at our age' we were less keen on the pit than we used to be, but not old enough to sit still during a raucous set like that. The response was predictable - Health and Safety. It's the government says you have to sit down if you have a seat. I feel a letter to the Health and Safety Executive coming on!

As you may have read here previously, following huge disillusionment with the Brixton Academy, Amanda and I have been trying to concentrate on seeing bands in smaller venues. However, heading out to Claygate (a very dull bit of suburbia two stops past Surbiton) on a Friday night represented new height of smallness. Mind you, The Ram Club did win Folk Club of the year at the BBC Folk Awards last year and I have seen Little Johnny England at Cropredy on several occasions, so it was entirely a trip into the unknown.

An interesting set up; the hall is rather like the average scout hut, but is located in the garden of a rather excellent Youngs Pub. The only tricky bit is seeing from the pub when the queue starts to form, as there is quite limited entry - we thought about 70ish people. Inside the chairs are jammed together, and it rapidly shifted from cold to very warm once the door was closed. The average age, however was disappointingly high, as were the beard and pullover count.

Our host, on the other hand, was quite a surprise. The prim and proper Scottish matron was not the usual Folky MC, but her caustically dry humour soon grew on us. It was Burns night and she was hosting a band called Little Johnny England.... a T-towel with Rabbie-speak was given out and dire threats to those who did not pay homage to the poet were issued. However when answering a heckler with the words 'Sassenach bastard' the swift response of 'Fine name for a band' brought the house down. After the usual couple of musicians off the floor, LJE took the stage - well front. I had described them to Amanda as Squeezebox Rock, and I was initially disappointed to discover this was gig 3 of their first ever acoustic tour. Stripped down to just three - guitar, fiddle and accordion. However, I need not have worried. In between the excellent banter (mostly from PJ Wright) the paired down LJE sound was excellent. In fact, the complex interweaving of fiddle and accordion was quite wonderful. They sing simple, contemporary songs, often angry, sometime poignant and played beautifully. After 45 minutes we all stop to go to the bar and draw the raffle then another could from the floor and more from the main band. We slipped away a few minutes before the end to catch the last train, but overall a very positive experience - certainly worth repeating.