Album Review - Simon Godfrey: Motherland

Songs. Lovely, lovely songs. Do you like songs? Of course you do, what a silly question.

But hold on, maybe it isn't - do you insist that every song has to contain a guitar / keyboard / theremin solo for it to be any good? Do you think 'Wind and Wuthering' is the beginning of the end of Genesis because it has 'Your Own Special Way' on it? Do you listen to Radio 2 and tut at the playlist, and post things on Facebook about how 'complicated' music doesn't get the playtime you think it deserves (as if it ever did?)

Oh, ok, you don't. Good, come on in then, and settle down for something rather marvellous.

I reckon most people reading this will have a good idea of who Simon Godfrey is, if only because of me banging on about Tinyfish, the band he fronts, but he's been around on the circuit for *cough* years - as part of 80's progpop-supergroup-in-the-making Freefall, in folky-acoustic band Men Are Dead, under the ridiculously inventive electronic-rock guise of Shineback, and also as a regular at open mic night and acoustic slots, performing his catchy but deceptively complex songs around the pubs, clubs, and toilets of London.

It's this last persona that provides the best clue as to the content of 'Motherland', the first album to be released under his own name and by far the most personal thing he's put out to date - although it's certainly in the same postcode as the more straightforward moments of Tinyfish's output, like 'The June Jar', which also appears here in acoustic format, like an old familiar friend wearing a jaunty new hat.

It's one of 3 songs from Simon's other projects to be given a makeover, including opener 'Faultlines' - a powerful-but-painful highlight from last year's Shineback album, here given the stripped back treatment and a new, slightly folk-ish arrangement, and that's on top of the ambient noise-y intro which kicks off the album in expectation-buggering fashion.

Actually, let's chat about expectations - Simon's been very forthcoming about the genesis of this album right from the start, and here's an extract from the accompanying press release:

"This is a travel record, made between two countries on a laptop, some stringed instruments, a USB keyboard and one tiny microphone. This is NOT a production. It's personal, close, natural - and deliberately so."

This, and various bits about it being an acoustic album, to expect bum notes and to think of these as home demos, sets the bar of expectation pretty low - so much so that I was basically expecting an iPhone recording of him sitting on the sofa in front of 'Homes Under the Hammer', mumbling and playing the spoons. If these are also your fears (and, frankly, that does sound like the stuff of nightmares), then you'll be happy to hear that he's dramatically downplaying just how good this is. The scamp.

Yes, it's an acoustic album, but it's not sparse - there's a lovely full sound, with chiming acoustic guitars, the odd bit of percussion, some subtle keyboards, blues-y harmonica on 'Tearing Up The Room', and some wonderful multi-tracked and processed backing vocals here and there, such as the gorgeous "oooh, ooohs" which back up the gentle melody of 'The Inaccurate Man'. If this is not a production, I'd like to hear what he can do when he really goes for it. (Oh wait, I already did...)

But what about the songs, James, the songs? What are they like? Oh, ok, sorry. Well, they're like songs. With choruses, and verses, and middle eights. And lyrics - some of which are by longtime writing partner and Tinyfish spoken word maestro Rob Ramsay, but most of which are by Simon himself and deal with a theme that's extremely personal to him at the moment - moving on, loss, and leaving things behind. *sob* (Ok, you can stop feeling sorry for him now, he's buggering off to live in the US with his lovely, prog-fanatic fiancee.)

This is no 'Face Value'-esque angry and bitter divorce record, though - no, in fact the more subdued numbers like 'The Inaccurate Man', and 'Sally Won't Remember', are beautiful and uplifting in their own way, and are, oddly for me, some of my favourites after a few listens. And when the lyrics do contain a touch of the angry, such as on 'God Help Me If I'm Wrong', there's still a rollicking, toe tapping tune to go along with it.

Two tracks I'd like to single out here, though - firstly 'Dust and Wires', which is perhaps the catchiest "new" song here, and encapsulates everything there is to love about Simon's songwriting. And then the closing 'Motherland', which is a moody instrumental piece with a touch of the Matt Stevens about it - until Rob pops up to offer a brief spoken word interlude with some thoughts which neatly tie up the album's concept.

"With everything we've seen, and everything we've done placed before us one last time,
We are judged purely on what we leave behind."

If this is Simon's parting gift to the UK, as the barely audible strains of the National Anthem suggest, I put it to you that we judge him favourably. (Or 'favorably' as he'll probably have to start spelling it now.)

Rating: 4/5
Buy Immediately: Faultlines / Dust and Wires / Tearing Up The Room /The Inaccurate Man / Sally Won't Remember / Motherland
Listen to: Everything else - as one glorious whole.
Destroy: Your preconceptions before hitting 'Play'.

Motherland by Simon Godfrey is released by Bad Elephant Music today! Like, right now. Head over to the BEM Bandcamp site to listen, download, pre-order a CD, or preferably all three.

Album Review - Shineback - Rise Up Forgotten, Return Destroyed

Number 2 in a very occasional series of "imaginary conversations with my musical heroes"

The other night, I was in bed, dreaming lovely dreams about the days when Phil Collins looked like a werewolf, when my curtains were all of a flutter and I felt a worrying disturbance in the force...

---------------

A bearded ballet dancer, climbing in through the window: Hello!

Gigging Forever: What the actual feck?

The hirsute stranger in a tutu: Wotcha! I'm your Mother God-Fairy, and I'm here to grant you three wishes.

GF: Isn't it genies who grant wishes?

Mother God-Fairy:  You're the one who tried to turn my name into a torturous wish-based pun that nobody will even get.

GF: Good point. Why are you wearing a tutu?

Simon Godfrey (for it is he...) Well, I am the Prog Princess.

GF: Princesses don't wear tutus. Do fairy godmothers even wear tutus?

SG: Probably not. Look, do you want these wishes or not? I'm a busy man since I turned full-time professional Faceboo..., er musician.

GF: Well, I suppose I might as well. Can I wish for anything at all?

SG: Hmm, try me.

GF: Can you make it so that 'Tormato' doesn't suck?

SG: That's way beyond my powers, I'm afraid.

GF: How about making it so that Robert Fripp doesn't ever appear on All-Star Mr. and Mrs?

SG: Too late.

See these lovely cakes? I bet you'd like to eat one, wouldn't you?
Well you CAN'T! Ahahahahaha!
Or, you can, but I'll probably sue you.

GF: You're quite a rubbish Fairy Godmother, aren't you?

SG: To be honest mate, I'm not even sure that Fairy Godmothers are supposed to grant wishes at all, so I don't know which scary part of your brain dreamed me up.

GF: Okay then, let's try something a bit simpler. Can you make me an album?

SG: James, you know perfectly well I've just made an album and my record label has sent it to you to review, and quite frankly I'm getting fed up with you wasting valuable words on not reviewing it. People will think it's rubbish and you're just trying to avoid saying so...

GF: Simon, for the purposes of the whole review concept, could you maybe just say "Yes, James, I reckon that's one thing I CAN do!"

SG: Yeah, ok then, sure.

GF: Go on then.

SG: James, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to spend my every waking moment creating an album just for you - entirely tailored to your musical taste, and every whim and fancy.

GF: That sounded kind of sarcastic, but fine.

SG: Right then, we've got a blank piece of paper here and an empty hard drive - where would you like me to start?

GF: Ok. Well, you know I'm a sucker for anything which mixes up sounds that don't normally belong together...

SG: Like Katie Price and a recording studio?

GF:... no, not quite like that - I was thinking more like orchestras plus bands, pop music with middle eastern influence...

SG: Oh, I see where this is going. You'd like a europop concept album about the Sultan of Brunei?

GF: ... not exactly. I was thinking, as my two favourite genres of music are prog and electronica-slash-dance music, it's about time someone made an album mixing those two things together?

SG: Prog... and electronica? Progtronica! I'm so copyrighting that.

GF: Knock yourself out. So, what do you think?

SG: Weeeelllll, that's actually a cracking idea. I could just take my brilliant Tinyfish-style songwriting, and then just stick a few bleeps and bloops over the top of it. Bish bosh, sorted.

GF: You don't actually say stuff like "Bish Bosh, sorted" in real life, do you?

SG: No, not at all. I don't know what you're doing to me here, mate.

GF: Sorry. Anyway, No. NO NO NO.

SG: No what?

GF: A few bleeps and bloops are not going to cut it. If you're going to do this, it needs to be proper. I want mega dancefloor smashes. I want screeching Justice-style keyboard riffs. I want pounding drum 'n' bass beats, and samples which go kind of "Wuuuurrrrggghhhhh" in a really deep voice. Actually I didn't know I wanted those but if you were to give them to me, it would turn out that I really, really enjoyed them. I want beautiful vocal harmonies, I want innovative sound treatments and effects, and I want a dash of Kraftwerk-esque minimalism here and there too. But most of all, I want the sound of someone doing whatever the heck they want and not caring about what anyone else is going to think about it. (Apart from me, obviously...)

SG: And... and... I could call up my Tinyfish bandmate Rob Ramsay to work on the story and lyrics, and we could make it into a concept album about child abuse!

GF: You two are quite strange people, aren't you?

SG: Sorry.

"Come with me, as I explain the wonders of the universe... you promise you're going to
put the graphics on in post production, right?"

GF: No, it's ok, I said you should do whatever the heck you want within my extremely narrow predefined criteria - so just go for it. I'm sure you can make it work. And even if you can't, nobody will mind. Nobody knows what "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway" is about, and that doesn't seem to matter.

SG: It's about this Puerto Rican street kid who... um...

GF: Yeah, anyway, I need to get back to sleep, so can you, um... fly away home or something?

SG: Ok, I'll be back when you least expect it to show you what I've done so far.

GF: When I least expect it will be 'any time soon'.

SG: Git.

GF: Sorry.


When this is made into a film, I think there should definitely be a montage at this point of Simon starting work, scribbling down ideas on blank sheets of paper which get tossed into a bin, sitting around in his pants watching Jeremy Kyle, having a karate lesson with a small Japanese dude, and then having a sudden flash of inspiration and tapping away at his computer like a mad professor. Maybe playing some instruments or something, but that would be optional.

Wibbly "Time passing" effect

---------------------

SG: I'm back! I've done it!

GF: Great! Where are we?

SG: What do you mean?

GF: I mean, we've not set the scene, I could be anywhere. I could be in the bath and you would have just appeared in it next to me, frankly I'm not sure I want that image in anyone's mind.

SG: It's your bloody blog. You decide.

GF: Okay, we're on the number 281 bus going to Tolworth.

SG: Am I still wearing a tutu and fairy wings?

GF: No, I'm not that cruel.

SG: Okay then. So, er, do you want to hear what I've done?

GF: Well, I don't know. I'm a little bit worried.

SG: How so?

GF: Well, let's see... You've told me you're making an album which you think is going to be right up my street. Also, the last album you were involved in making is one of my favourites of all time. Plus, although "Tutu Simon" is a figment of my imagination, the real you is actually kind of a mate, and if I didn't like it, it would be awfully embarrassing to have to say so, especially if you'd sent me a pre-release copy to review. I'd have to write a whole load of pointless guff just to skirt around the issue.

SG: More pointless guff than you usually write?

GF: Oh, that does it - you're totally getting the Sting treatment. Go on then, tell me about the album.

SG: It's bold. I've really gone all out and not bowed to what I thought anyone would expect from me.

GF: Even less prog-rock than Tinyfish?

SG: Oh yes. Although, the title track is over 10 minutes long and is almost a kind of electrofied version of 'Wide Awake at Midnight'. And there's something that sounds suspiciously like Mellotron flute on 'One Last Perfect Day'.

GF: Well that's ok, The Beatles used mellotron flute, they weren't prog.

SG: You really want to get into that whole "Is Abbey Road the first prog album" debate?

GF: No, ok, good point. So, no twelve string guitars, Rickenbacker basses or Mini Moogs?

SG: Absolutely not.

GF: And no rip-offs of 'Supper's Ready', with widdly keyboard solos and climactic, post-apocalyptic endings?

SG: Why the heck would I do that?

GF: Good question. Why would anyone? So, um, how is it a progressive album without any of that stuff then?

SG: Why don't you listen to the damn thing and find out?

GF: What a superb suggestion.

I think this is vocalist Danny Claire.
Either that or one of the members of Tinyfish has had quite a makeover.

There follows a lengthy pause where I drift off into a world of musical delights...

GF: Blimey. The first 4 tracks are quite a statement of intent - trance-style vocals from Danny Claire kick things off immediately into unexpected territory, for those who haven't been paying attention along the route at least - and then we're suddenly catapulted into super-mega-rifferama, as first song proper, 'Is This the Dream' kicks in. But what's this? The heavy, dark riff mirrors the start of this most difficult of stories without the audible use of a single guitar. What's more, it then immediately ushers in popp-y drum beats and an upbeat tune which breaks down halfway through into a mashy, glitchy section before the the catchy chorus comes back in to complete the song.

'Under My Feet' is a brief linking section with beautifully harmonised treated vocals recalling Imogen Heap's 'Hide and Seek', and it gives us a welcome respite before one of the most powerful tracks of the whole album. 'Bedlam Days' starts by rolling along on a gentle bed of sequenced keyboard notes, before assaulting the unwary listener with another Jan Hammer-esque keyboard riff which is then rudely interrupted by what can only be described as Pendulum style drum 'n' bass, breakbeats and the aforementioned "Wuuuurgggghhhh" noises.

It's at this point that it's easy to imagine the unwary prog rock fan ejecting the CD in abject fear and disgust,  and hiding it away in a place where it can never again encourage them to think unclean thoughts about the music of "the young folks". But they'd miss the most Tinyfish-like song on the album, as 'Faultines' is a beautiful, straight-ahead ballad of the kind you'd most expect from Simon and his acoustic guitar, the only difference being the synthesised percussion. How like Simon, to confuse us by doing what we'd expect after such a genre-defying opening.

Another linking piece (named after one of our heroine, Dora's blogs), soothes the senses in preparation for yet another aural assault, as 'Here Come the Envoys' will quite possibly end up being one of the most divisive pieces on the album- as following its dark, synth and beat-heavy opening with one of the first guitar solos to be heard on the album, it then breaks down into a kind of 90's Europop take on 'The Colony of Slippermen', as the eponymous characters from the song's title make their appearance into the story, to drag Dora off into the dream world of The Memory House to confront her demons, which she seems to want to do through the medium of clubbing, if the music of 'Crush Culture' is anything to go by. Yet another monster electro-riff propels the catchiest track on the album - a song which is surely destined if not for the charts then at least for fans to have a bit of a jump around at gigs. "Memory House, give it up for Dora!", yells the MC, as the crowd go wild. And that's just 'Side 1', in old money.

This is where the magic happened.
Photo: James Allen

SG: *Cough*

GF: Oh, hello.

SG: Have you forgotten I'm here? Why are you talking like that? It almost sounds like an album review.

GF: Ah, yeah, sorry, won't happen again.

SG: You like it, then?

GF: I think you could say I'm a fan. You've pretty much achieved exactly what I hoped you would - proper songs in an electronic style, with the inventiveness of actual progressive music, and a healthy dollop of your usual songwriting brilliance. And let's not forget the rock sounds you've managed to get in there too - amazing guitar solos when they're called for, notably at the end of what is fast becoming my favourite track, 'Fears Aren't Toys', and some pretty awesome real drums on the epic title track.

SG: Um, to be fair, neither of those were me.

GF: They weren't? You cheat.

SG: I prefer to think of it as 'widening the net of experience to bring ultimate musical synergy with a view to focusing on value added tasks'.

GF: Uh-huh.

SG: I've got Matt Stevens to do quite bizarre things to a guitar on 'Bedlam Days', Dec Burke played that solo on 'Fears' which you just enjoyed so much, and Henry Rogers played the real drum track on 'Rise Up Forgotten, Return Destroyed', as well as two guitar solos from Andy Ditchfield and Hywel Bennett.

GF: Hen played the guitar solos by Andy Ditchfield and Hywel Bennett?

SG: You knew what I meant.

Look into the eyes, the eyes, not around the eyes...

GF: And the bass part on the title track is excellent, too, did you get Paul Worwood from Tinyfish in to do that?

SG: Ha! No, actually I did that all myself. But I did get Paul in to do something.

GF: Not the creepy voiceover of Dora's father on 'Xo Va Yu'? You cruel, cruel person. How are that poor man's kids ever going to sleep again when they hear that?

SG: Not my problem. Anyway, are you going to explain the story a bit?

GF: I kind of thought I would leave it as a surprise for when people hear it for the first time.

SG: You didn't pay proper attention to it, did you?

GF: Aw, that's unfair, you know how rubbish I am at paying attention to and understanding lyrics - especially of concept albums. I definitely got the gist, though. There's some pretty dark stuff going on here. I might suggest instead that people head over to your Facebook page to read your track-by-track explanations.

SG: Cop-out.

GF: All I will say, is that anyone who enjoyed the story aspect of 'The Big Red Spark' won't be disappointed with this, even if Rob's voice doesn't actually appear anywhere. Not that I detected, anyway. His legendary scariness, however, pervades and cannot be escaped.

No Biggles on this album, though.

SG: So, it sounds like you pretty much liked the loud/fast/upbeat tracks the best. That's so you.

GF: Partially guilty as charged, but there are so many goodies to choose from that it's easy to focus immediately on the "big numbers". However, I will say that once you've been through the album a few times, the linking/storytelling sections really start to reveal their hidden treasures - firstly 'The Clock of the Long Now', which is just beautiful in its quiet simplicity and almost Floyd-ian keyboard noodling, but most notably 'I Called Him in Vain (Blog 4)', whose chords are only a tympani roll or two away from recalling the quiet ending chords of Yes's 'Awaken'.

SG: Are you calling me a plagiarist now as well?

GF: Oh, c'mon.  I'm complimenting you on managing to use such heavenly and complicated sounding chords throughout the album, despite the sometimes more simple instrumentation than prog fans might be used to.

SG: Shucks. What about the last song? I was umming and ahhing between two choices...

GF: I think it works nicely as a happy-ish ending, the music is certainly suitably climactic, in a totally non-'Supper's Ready' kind of way. I do like the 'sad' alternative you also played me, though.

SG: Well, you know, if you pre-order the album from The Merch Desk right now, you can get that alternative ending as an exclusive track to listen to IMMEDIATELY.

GF: Sounds like everyone should head over there rightaway.

GF: Also. I hope it doesn't offend anyone if I say that this is by far the most professional sounding recording I've heard from any of the SG projects. It sounds like a lot of time has been spent on getting the sounds just so - it certainly sounds lovely on a nice pair of cans.

SG: I don't need to know about your lovely pair of cans, thanks. Nah, to be honest, I just brought in Tim "Mouse" Lawrie to help with production- he came in with his qualifications and all, and made it sound spangly and proper.

GF: Did he pay you to say that?

SG: Yeah. Did he pay you to mention him in the review?

GF: I am completely editorially independent. Apart from the time we went to that gig and you paid me not to mention the thing with the goat.

SG: Oh, yeah, god, thanks.

So, what do you reckon, then? Did I manage to grant your wish?

GF: Yep - I reckon you did, and then some. It's bold, it's inventive, it sticks at least two fingers up at the status quo (and at Status Quo), it makes me want to dance, laugh, cry and rock out all at the same time (which would no doubt be highly attractive) - but most of all it's the very definition of bonkers genius. You and Rob should be very proud.

SG: Ooh- you forgot something - you haven't mentioned one of the best tracks on the album, 'Passengers'.

GF: Oh yes.. it's almost as if I knew this would be going live on the day that 'Passengers' is released as a free download single.

SG: Spooky.

GF: It's a cracking song, and it can be yours for the very special price of nothing. Head over to the Bad Elephant Music Bandcamp page and download it now... don't delay, or they'll throw in a free copy of 'Love Beach' with every one.

SG: Who are you talking to now?

GF: Not really sure, to be honest.

SG: You know what? You've still got two wishes left.

GF: So I have. Hey, I know what, can I wish for a Shineback gig?

SG: It's funny you should say that, it's almost as if you knew this would be going live a week before my acoustic slot at the Celebr8 Music festival in Kingston-Upon-Thames on the 19th of May.

GF: Go figure.

SG: What about the last one?

GF: You know what, let's save it for later. You never know when I might decide I do want that Sultan of Brunei thing after all.


"Rise Up Forgotten, Return Destroyed" by Shineback is released by Bad Elephant Music on the 1st of July 2013.

All music is written by Simon Godfrey of Tinyfish and Men are Dead, and lyrics are by Robert Ramsay also of those parishes.

All instruments are played by Simon Godfrey except for some rather jolly spiffing guest appearances, and production is by Simon Godfrey and Tim "I have an actual qualification in this stuff" Lawrie.

Pre-order now to get an exclusive bonus track and pay for Simon to get home from Philadelphia in time for his acoustic set in Kingston Upon Thames on Sunday 19th of May at the Celebr8 festival.

Now, as we're a little ahead of schedule, there's just time for a little album sampler, which you can use to judge whether or not I've been talking out of my arse for the last 3,327 words.

21st December 2012: The Invisible / Public Service Broadcasting /Hejira- Tooting Tram & Social

There was a reason I said that the Frost*Bites gig was "probably" my last of the year. I'd had this December evening blocked out in my calendar for a couple of weeks but wasn't really sure whether I was going to go or not. Firstly, it was in Tooting, secondly it was nearly Christmas, and thirdly, I'd never heard of two of the bands playing this free gig. Everyone knows no good bands play for free, don't they? Especially not in Tooting.

Luckily, I was talked out of this stupidity by my gig buddy for the evening- Tinyfish frontman and local boy Simon Godfrey, who was as keen to check out Public Service Broadcasting's live multimedia set as me, following this excellent review of their Hull gig by our mutual friend and not-postman Tim.

Either Simon's a little late or I'm a bit early, but either way I find myself killing time for 15 minutes outside Tooting Broadway Tube station, which isn't exactly the easiest task I've ever set myself. After I've taken a couple of pictures of the classic Northern Line architecture and the slightly random statue of Edward VII in front of it, I'm pretty much left with jumping up and down on the spot to keep warm, and accidentally greeting every man with the slightest bit of facial hair I see in the mistaken apprehension that it's Simon.

Still, eventually he arrives and whisks me off to the first location for our evening together- KFC. Never let it be said that I am an expensive date. Here we have a good old catch up, and he tells me how he's getting on with his solo album, as well as some top secret news which makes me pull this face:

Eventually we exhaust the amount of fun that can be had in a fried chicken shop, so we decide to head over to the venue, which is a marvelous place - a converted Victorian tram shed, done out like a swanky gastro pub but with the original huge vaulted ceiling and a raised gallery around the top. That and somewhat random musical artifacts here and there, most notably this classic of 20th Century culture in the gents:

If only, Cliff. If only.

On the way in, Simon catches sight of the poster advertising tonight's gig and goes into full-on teenage girl mode. "The Invisible? THE INVISIBLE are playing here tonight?" Er, yeah, that's what it says on the poster. "But, but The Invisible are bloody brilliant - they're one of my favourite bands! This is amazing!"

I later learn that Simon claims pretty much everyone is one of his favourite bands, but the fact that he rates them so highly does do something to counteract the impression I've formed of all of tonight's acts from the fact that they're playing a free show in a disused hanger in the arse end of South London. In fact, no sooner have we grabbed our drinks than Simon spots the frontman of today's favourite band and heads over for a chat and a bit of a girly gush (um... that sounds a bit wrong, but you know what I mean.)

With no sign of anything happening on stage yet, we decide to go and check out the upstairs balcony, where there are comfy seats and a decent volume of background music over which to have an extremely in depth chat about where our respective lives went wrong, and then so very right again. We're engrossed in chat about hearing loss, or divorce, or Kraftwerk, or something equally fun, when it appears that tonight's first band has started up.

With the music being a little bit loud now for sensible chat, we sit and have a listen, and within a few seconds I see that excitable glint in Simon's eye again, as he says "Wow, it's a Joni Mitchell song..." That makes sense, I say, as the first band are called Hejira (as is one of Joni's albums), so perhaps they do Joni covers. "They're really good", says Simon, in amazement. "Absolutely spot on. I think I'm going to have to go down and watch." So we make our way downstairs in a hurry so as not to miss too much - and we find...

... the band are still very much setting up, and we're listening to Joni Mitchell on a playlist. Still, it is a very good playlist, and it's presumably been chosen by tonight's host, XFM DJ John Kennedy, who curates a regular gig series called 'Remedy' at this venue, introducing the acts, playing quality tunes between and afterwards and generally hanging around and enjoying himself. Anyway, now we're downstairs, I grab another Blue Moon and we find a spot to the right of the stage (which later turns out to be exactly where all the bands want to sell their merch from - how were we to know?), and hang about a bit with our new mate Dave from The Invisible whilst waiting for...

Hejira

... who, as it happens, don't play Joni Mitchell covers, but something far more interesting. I've written here 'dark, brooding, alternative-ish', which is I suppose true, but after the set's over, I turn to Simon and say 'I have no idea how to describe that...', which perhaps is the biggest compliment you can pay to any music. Hejira don't sound like Radiohead, or Sigur Ros, or Doves, or anyone else who would fit the description I've written above.

Coupled with that, they're pretty (deliberately?) hard to find much about online - I can't even be sure which of the band members is which, without industrial levels of research/stalking. I will refrain from making any incorrect assumptions about which of the guys onstage tonight is Sam Beste, Rahel Debebe-Dessalegne, Alex Reeve and Alexis Nunez - but right from the off, they're an interesting prospect, with dual frontman/woman sharing vocal and guitar duties, and providing some wonderful harmonies thoughout. They also have the only 'standing up drummer' I've ever seen, which is a big plus point in my book.

Check out the awesome red bobble hat on the frontwoman.
 I bet she's too young to have heard of Benny from Crossroads.

But it's when they hit their stride that I become mesmerised, with some quite hypnotic and melodic tracks which in a few cases build up gradually to urgent, powerful climaxes almost without you noticing. The penultimate song they play rolls along on a beautiful, brooding bed of toms and piano and is the cause of a severe disturbance in the spine department. And they finish up with their one and only piece of available recorded output (that I can find) - current single "Gypsy of The Soul' which luckily I don't even have to try to describe, because you can hear it right here on their Bandcamp page.

In fact, if you're interested in getting a better idea of the live experience, you can check out this wonderful and very arty video of them performing 'Gypsy of The Soul' live in the studio, which tells you way more than any of the words I've slowly dribbled out over the last half an hour whilst listening to 'Gypsy' on repeat. I will definitely be watching with interest for the debut album and future gigs.

After the band finish, Simon and I go back to our chat whilst Hejira unpack all around us. I sort of want to say something to one of them, but pleasingly they look far too cool and hip to approach - something which I find sorely lacking in musicians I see live these days. I can't help but feel that something of the magical "gig experience" I treasured as a teenager is lost when the guys on stage look like people from your office and they hang about in the bar when they're done, making friendly chit chat. Although, that is a good way to make friends, as evidenced by my companion for the evening. 

Anyway, the best thing about Hejira unpacking their gear is that I'm mid sentence talking to Simon when I turn round and clock the stand that "member of Hejira in the shadows, stage left" has been using for his keyboard. Seems Jem from Frost* isn't the only one who thinks playing keyboards is as exciting as doing the ironing.

It takes a while, during which time we retreat back to the palatial surroundings of the balcony, but eventually the stage is set and we are ready for...

Public Service Broadcasting

... or, rather, half of Public Service Broadcasting. Apparently J. Willgoose, Esq. is a local boy too, so he's playing this solo show as a Christmas treat for the Tooting Massive. 

Now, I've just made the mistake of re-reading Tim's excellent review of their Hull gig from a few weeks previously, and he's pretty much said everything I would have wanted to say about the band and their music. So perhaps you should go and read that. And I will now try to say a few words without stealing too many quality phrases from Tim's blog.

Any worries we had that tonight's solo show might be lacking the multimedia aspect of the band's regular gigs are soon put to rest, as an old-fashioned TV set on stage left kicks into life with the BBC Test Card. This is duplicated on the screen at the back of the stage in front of Mr Willgoose, who has been standing fiddling for a good 5 minutes, waiting patiently for what appear to be Work Experience kids on the mixing desk to sort out the sound enough for him to start.

A quick introduction from John Kennedy and we're off, with wartime footage and sound effects triggered by JW's keyboard pads introducing 'If War Should Come' - the first of three tracks from this year's superb 'War Room' EP which, you may be surprised to learn, are all based around war time spoken word samples - the dance-ish, electronic-ish tracks syncing up nicely with the video footage on the screens.

The audio-visual aspect of the gig is probably even more important tonight than other nights, distracting one's attention from the fact that, being a member down, more of the music than usual is necessarily being played/triggered by the laptop in front of him. But that's not to say there's no musicianship on display, far from it - Willgoose demonstrates his guitar and banjo skills admirably, all whilst triggering samples and spoken word nuggets from pads, playing keyboards every so often and seemingly looping various bits of what he's playing to enable him to move onto the next thing. 

One-man bands sure have come a long way since Mary Poppins' time, haven't they?

Dave from The Invisible and various members of Hejira watch JW banging his banjo.

Just when it looks like the Wartime shtick might wear a bit thin, J (can I call you J, J?) welcomes us to his gig in the only way he knows how - by means of ancient-sounding and deliberately mis-matched samples which he triggers from his pads. "It's Lovely to be at... TOOTING TRAM AND SOCIAL" says one. "How are you doing... TOOTING TRAM AND SOCIAL?" Giggles abound as he moves into slightly more cheery territory with the bouncy 'ROYGBIV' which is not a cover of the Boards of Canada track, but is equally good and invites favourable comparisons with Lemon Jelly, as he bangs out random colour names on the sample pads (which may or may not match the somewhat psychedelic projections behind him), and gives us a banjo masterclass along to the jaunty beats. 

Tonight's last track proper is 'Everest', an electronic hymn to the world's highest peak, accompanied by scratchy old footage of mountains and climbers, and it's a fittingly climactic end to the set. However, PSB choose to leave us tonight with an utterly bonkers duet for one on banjo and sample pads, which accompanies footage of snow and Christmas trees, and eventually morphs into Jingle Bells played on the theremin.

If there's an exact, polar opposite of Hejira's inscrutable, brooding sounds, it's fair to say that J. Willgoose, Esq. has found it. Full marks, sir. As if to prove the point, his bow tie falls off as he waves to the crowd, makes his laptop wish us "Happy Christmas... TOOTING TRAM AND SOCIAL", and heads off backstage.

With two amazing acts already having played tonight, things are starting to look a bit dodgy for "Simon's favourite band today" who surely can't be as good as he's been making out, and also have two tough (and very different) acts to follow. But it doesn't take more than a couple of minutes of...

The Invisible

 ... before Simon turns to look at me to see what I think and finds me staring at the stage with a ridiculous shit-eating grin that says "This is possibly the best night of live music I've witnessed since the last night of live music I witnessed that I claimed was possibly the best night of live music I'd witnessed..."

It's an odd thing - The Invisible are actually a proper band, with a Wikipedia page, and a Mercury Music Prize nomination and everything. And yet I've somehow managed not to hear a single note until our new BFF Dave Okumo (Vocals, guitar), and his bandmates Tom Herbert (Bass, Synth) and Leo Taylor (drums) take the stage to respectful applause befitting their status.

Tonight's set, as far as I can tell, is comprised largely of songs from this year's 'Rispah' album, and the first song ('Lifeline', perhaps?) begins with Leo Taylor whacking the heck out of some electronic pads in a pattern which has me absolutely spellbound from my position over his left shoulder, before incorporating them seamlessly into his regular acoustic drum set-up in a way I've not seen done before, or at least not at close range like this - hitting each different tiny pad just above the toms with precision as if it were a whole drum in his kit. 

I'm a bit of a sucker for watching drummers play at close range, and especially when they play electronic patterns mixed with traditional rock sounds - so it's fair to say that The Invisible were always going to float my boat, but Dave's dreamy vocals and strummed guitar elevate the introductory drum pattern into something truly magnificent. 

Now, I earlier managed to compliment Hejira by saying they didn't sound like Radiohead, Sigur Ros, or Doves, but here I'm going to have to backpedal a little because I think it's fair to say that The Invisible do, in various parts sound a little like some of these bands, especially Radiohead and especially current Radiohead (circa 'In Rainbows')-  if not in actual sound then most definitely in terms of approach, with a healthy disregard for traditional song structures, a penchant for mixing stuttering electronica and beats with more post-rock type sounds, and a pleasing love of odd time signatures and interesting chords. Almost sounds like prog rock, doesn't it?

And then there are other sounds throughout the set which make me prick my ears up and take notice - the funky bassline and syncopated rhythms of 'London Girl' (the one song whose name I catch for sure) bringing to mind everything from Everything Everything to Level 42, the members of Hejira becoming even more hip as they dance, hip-ly at the front of the stage.

There are also moments in the next track ('Protection', I think) which put me in mind of Pink Floyd (gasp!), or early Porcupine Tree as Dave Okumo strums guitar in a "Run Like Hell" / "Voyage 34" type riff as Leo bangs out a hypnotic beat in 5/4. "Who says there isn't a market for prog?", says Simon, as he points out the front row of young hipster types, dancing their little hipster pants off, lost in the wonderful sounds.

What else? Well, there's also a lovely song where Dave is accompanied only by his own guitar and Tom's dreamy synth (which I suspect was 'What Happened'), then another where Dave ends up in a drum battle with Leo, using some extra drums that seem to have appeared on stage left, and then there's the encore track, which is most intriguing - being the longest thing we hear all night and ending up in a very early-Floyd-ish instrumental freakout.

I'm only sorry not to have got to know the material before, to be able to tell you all what they played and describe it in a more erudite fashion, but I can tell you that both the albums are well worth picking up, and have been played solidly ever since. (Well, once I got home and ripped them onto my iPod, that is. I don't have a CD walkman. I'm not that old.) 

Update- I'm playing 'Rispah' right now and Karin just asked what it was. "Is it also known as the project where Massive Attack and Steven Wilson got together and had a baby?" - I think we can all agree that's praise indeed.

Unfortunately, buying the CDs from the nice lady at the band's Merch stand is quite literally all I have time to do before running off to catch my bus, so I'm not able to tell Dave how much I enjoyed his set. But who knows, now we're so well acquainted, maybe he'll read this. 


In the event, I actually do miss my bus, thereby missing my train, and end up in a 2-hour plus nightmare maze of tubes, buses and nightbuses before finally arriving home at nearly 3:00. And despite all that, it's been one of the best nights out I've had in ages - three very different and equally excellent bands, all curated by an actual genius with obviously excellent taste in music, and what's more it didn't cost me a penny. Well, apart from the KFC. And the Blue Moon. And the nightbuses. And I narrowly avoid spending £50 for a taxi in a fit of desperation. But still.

If future 'Remedy' nights prove to be a good as this, I have a feeling I'm going to become intimately acquainted with... TOOTING TRAM AND SOCIAL.

8th July 2012: Celebr8 Festival (Day Two) - The Hippodrome, Kingston

Oh, hello. I knew there was something I was supposed to be doing. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is now about as relevant as a review of Bergerac, but literally three people asked me where it was so I thought I'd better. It'll probably be rubbish though. I wouldn't waste your time on it.

Do you remember back as far as July? Pre-Olympics, when we were all bitter and cynical and sneered at everything and everyone, and took every opportunity to disparage everything our country stood for? Well, back in those hazy, crazy days before we discovered that sport could unite rather than divide us, two noble men were on a crusade to cheer us all up. That they were trying to achieve this through the medium of Progressive Rock music was brave enough, but that they chose to facilitate it by means of shoehorning 600 of us into a sticky Kingston nightclub in the middle of July surely puts them in line for next year's honours list along with Uber-Lord Coe and Sir Wiggo.

Come with me, then, as I transport you back to a simpler time, when a "Mobot" was something gentlemen used to trim their facial accoutrements, and none of us had seen David Cameron and Boris Johnson dancing to the Spice Girls.

Haha! Now you've all seen it. Bad luck.

Like the day before it, the 8th of July begins with sore heads and a general lack of desire to move, but the three of us are made of stern stuff and are soon up and about and getting ready to face another day of quality proggage. However, we can't eat our Rice Krispies in silence, so I take the opportunity to let Mr. Lawrie sit in the Sweet Spot (not the sweat spot, as I just accidentally typed), whilst his favourite album of all time plays in 5.1 Surround. And then, when we're done with "Have a Cheeky Christmas", we decide we'll give "Wish You Were Here" a little spin too. 

In all seriousness, this vies for highlight of the weekend, as the little scamp sits there with a broad grin for the entire duration, only stopping to look shocked at certain bits he's never heard before, or jumping up and yelling out, a bit like Father Jack (or maybe I'm not remembering it properly - it was a long time ago). Regardless, I've rarely seen anyone get so immersed in music and it reminds me of a glorious time when there were fewer distractions and I'd actually sit and listen to an album instead of having it on in the background whilst watching TV, surfing on my laptop and texting at the same time. Or blogging, mostly.

There's no time to dilly-dally, though, as we once again need to deliver our guest to his Evil Merch Overlord before doors open, so we briskly make our way out and retrace our steps from last night in rather drier fashion. Stepping over the residue of last night's food accident, we hop on the bus and are soon back at our new favourite venue.

Amazing how dissolved those fries are, isn't it? I'm not convinced potato is meant to do that.

Having got the measure of the security at the Hippodrome the night before ("What's that you say, you're the roadie for Gandalf's Scrotum? Ok then..."), I decide that we'll try to deliver Tim right to the desk - and sure enough, we manage to sneak in through the doors and hide away at the back of the venue without anyone noticing apart from Twang and Geoff, who seem glad of another pair of hands and soon put us to work fetching and carrying.

Gee, thanks for the photo, James Allen. No, really.

In this fashion, we manage to avoid the queue chaos of yesterday, we get to watch Dec Burke taking a soundcheck, and we manage a bit of hanging about and catching up with Bob and Jacqui (of the famous Leamington Curry Incident), who are also inside, sipping coffees emblazoned with their new nicknames of 'Stinky' and 'Normal'. Nobody seems sure which is which.

Come on, it does look like 'Stinky'. If you squint.

We're also there for the arrival of various musicians, including bassist Paul Worwood and his wife 'Helen Tinyfish' (yeah, I can see why she didn't want to give up that maiden name), as well as Simon Godfrey, who announces his presence by creeping up behind me and pinching my arse, as is customary at these things (or that's what he keeps telling me, anyway. That, and to keep it our little secret.)

Not only does our subterfuge afford us such Rock and Roll opportunities as mentioned above, but it's also rather handy for getting a nice spot. Having learned yesterday that good spots, once found, are to be guarded with one's life, we decide to take our places right in front of the stage before the doors even open, and we're therefore in prime position when people start flooding in and eventually MC Bert (in da house) introduces...

Thanks again to Mike Evans for the 'proper' photos here!

Dec Burke Band

...who absolutely storm the place with by far and away the best performance I've ever seen from them. Yep, this is, I think, the fourth time I've seen the ex-Darwin's Radio / Frost* frontman's solo band (if you can have such a thing), but frankly it may as well be the first. Right from the off, something new clicks into place - perhaps it's new boy Steve Woodcock on Bass duties, or perhaps it's Dec's sparkly new in-ear monitors, but they tear through many great tracks from "Destroy All Monsters" and "Paradigms and Storylines", bringing them to life in spectacular fashion. 

All vocal demons from their last gig are completely banished, and Dec nails the high notes with ease, commanding the audience but still finding time for those epic guitar battles with his right-hand man Hywel Bennett. Paddy Darlington keeps those pounding electronic beats coming, giving something of a Depeche Mode vibe to a couple of the tracks, and drummer Tim Churchman (now freed from his TV role as Dr. House) proves, as always, why he's in such great demand on the scene.

There's even time for a Darwin's Radio track ('Breathe it In'), which slots in so nicely to the rest of the set that I don't even twig it's not a solo song until someone else mentions it later. I love every minute, and so do many others, judging by the queues afterwards at Dec's Merch stall, manned (sorry, womanned) by the lovely Catherine. I'm chuffed to bits for Dec and can't wait to see what he does next (new album in the planning phase, folks...)

Unfortunately, I don't make it to Dec's Merch stand, or to any other Merch stand, for that matter, nor do I make it to the acoustic stage on this occasion to see Matt Stevens, who by all accounts has performed musical CPR on his guitar after last night's exertions and is back to entertain those who missed him yesterday.

No, on this occasion, I am most definitely not losing my spot, because it's time for the (probably maybe) very last full gig by...


Tinyfish

... and this has to be experienced from the front row. In addition, hanging about at the main stage whilst more devoted music lovers are lost in acoustic-y goodness means that we get to witness the band soundchecking - normally a very drab affair, but then there's nothing drab about Tinyfish (apart from bass player Paul's khaki trousers perhaps.)

Thus we are around to witness in-band fighting (surely the real reason for the gig hiatus), as drummer Leon, and then lead guitarist Jim beg for less of singer Simon in their monitors - followed by what fellow fan Pedro describes as "clown sex", as Leon tests the odd sounds on his drum pads, shouting "More! MOOORRE! LOUDER!" between each squeak and honk whilst glaring at the poor soundman like a death row executioner.

And then, the fashion moment of the entire weekend, as Simon takes to the stage in one of Nellie's fabulous 'Prog Princess' T-shirts, which of course is far too small and keeps riding up until roadie Andy R runs over to sort it out, proving yet again that there's nothing that gaffer tape can't fix.

Eventually the band stop laughing for long enough to play something, and at this point I put my phone away, I stop thinking about what I'm going to write in my review, and I just listen. (In fact I manage to do this for the rest of the day, which is a refreshing change, although it does mean that anything you get from this point on is entirely a result of my 7-week old memory...)

I'm not convinced that the world needs another full Tinyfish review from me (you can check out a proper one here and an improper one here), but I can't let this set go entirely without comment.

As I mentioned in Friday's review, Simon has intended for this gig to be a little more professional and serious, and it is (to a degree). The playing of the songs is utterly faultless  - the best I've heard them, and the sound from the Peel desk guy Tim is amongst the best I've ever heard at a live gig. It's so astonishingly good that I hope and pray after a couple of songs that someone's plugged a laptop into the desk to record it (they haven't.) 

The band give definitive renditions of the highlights of the Big Red Spark album, including the title track, lit in beautiful red (see what they did there?), spoken-word-nutter Rob Ramsay auditioning for a part in Friday night's Punto incident during 'Refugee', and another blistering guitar solo from Jim during 'Wide Awake at Midnight'. And no Tinyfish gig would be complete without some of the classic early tracks like 'Motorville'.

It's a classy way to go out, all round, but that's not to say that it's boring and humourless, oh no. Although Simon's trademark changing of lyrics to take the piss out of audience members is not in evidence this afternoon, there's a touching moment where during 'Wide Awake at Midnight' he sings "You are tired of me..." before quickly interjecting "no you're not!" - no, we really aren't. There's also the opportunity for some physical comedy as Simon tries to act out Rob's monologue through the medium of mime, prompting death glares from Rob before a resigned grimace takes over when Simon decides to plant a smacker right on his cheek.

But it's during 'Nine Months on Fire' that perhaps my favourite Tinyfish moment of all time occurs. Always a favourite track in any case, the band are delicately making their way through the quiet acoustic section in the middle when Leon appears to be fiddling about with something on his kit. Leon being a fiddly kind of person, this doesn't attract much attention until the loud section kicks in with its thundering toms, and clouds of what appear to be smoke rise into the air with every beat (and Leon being the drummer that he is, there are a lot of beats...)

Appropriate and well planned stage effect, or clinically insane drummer's idea of a practical joke? It looks like the former until Jim, who has his back to Leon, suddenly sniffs something afoot and turns round to see what the heck is going on, before a gigantic chuckle and an exasperated and weary headshake as he spies yet another drummer prank. (You can even check this out on video here.)

The set draws to a close with 'Motorville', the first track from their first album, and now the last track to be played live. Allowing myself to become briefly distracted for a moment I take a look around the venue - every floor spot, every staircase, every balcony position (including those two storeys up behind the stage in the VIP area), is absolutely rammed with people completely engaged with the amazing music and the crazy, one of a kind band who've produced it. It's a fitting way to leave the live arena.

As the final song draws to a close, we expect a cheeky smile, a joke, or a wave from Simon, but instead he tears off his guitar, flings it to the ground, and disappears moodily off stage, leaving it to forlornly feed back as the rest of the band follow him. What a closing statement - a 'fuck you' to the frustrations Simon feels at having to stop gigging at the height of their success?

I'm welling up slightly at this most unexpected end to their last gig, and marvelling at the poignancy of it all, when they all come bounding back on stage with Simon leaping about like a puppy with his tongue hanging out, waving and sticking his fingers up - and I know that all is right with the world again. I suspect we shall see them live again in some guise, but if not, it's been a fitting way to end.

After all this excitement, I desperately need a break (and to be honest, I'm not sure I can cope with hanging about and dissecting what we've just seen with my fellow fans just yet) so Karin and I slope off quietly for a bit of lunch.

Unfortunately, this means that...

Touchstone

... become the second casualty of the no-lunch-break schedule. Hopefully they aren't too hurt by this since I've seen them live 4 times now - and in any case we do manage to catch the very end of their set when they're joined on stage for a cover of Tears for Fears' "Mad World" by Kerry Chicione, bounding about like a mad person and showing why he will be so sorely missed in Mars Hollow.

On this showing, the boys (and gal) are rocking as hard (and as loud) as ever and I look forward to seeing them again soon.

After an afternoon of standing up, there's nothing better than heading to the acoustic stage for...

Kerry Chicione and Matt Brown (again)

... and it's at this point that the beauty of this acoustic stage really becomes apparent, as we head for the sofas at the side of the bar and flop out completely whilst basking in the summery glow of the guys' songs. 

I've no idea what they play today, but it's just as much fun as yesterday, and it's exactly what's needed for a warm Sunday afternoon ahead of the full prog onslaught that is...

Magenta

... who have a little bit to prove for me this evening. I first saw them at Summer's End in 2008 and was utterly blown away by the energy coming off the stage - the music itself was (and indeed still is) absolutely first-rate prog, channelling everyone from Yes to Mike Oldfield - but the sheer joy being experienced by everyone in the band set them head and shoulders from most of what I saw that weekend. Fast forward to Summer's End 2011, and I was a little less enthusiastic. With a couple of very new (and very young) band members, I felt they were still finding their way a little, with the new guys looking a little worried on stage. 

(I think I was so confused by the new and very young additions to the band that I may even have compared them to a prog Von Trapp family, with Christina Booth as the scatty governess, Rob Reed as the serious father and Chris Fry as 'Cool Uncle Chris' - but luckily that was only in a post on the Tinyfish forum, which nobody reads anyway...)

Altogether now, "Eidelweiss..."

Anyway, everything changes as soon as I hear the opening notes of 'Glitterball' from last year's "Chameleon" album, and the packed venue goes crazy for the band. Youngsters Dan Nelson on bass and Steve Roberts on drums exude confidence from the off, and look utterly relaxed and at home with the music. Guitarist Chris Fry gurns as he is supposed to, singer Christina Booth is mesmerising in centre stage, and even main man and keyboard whizz Rob Reed raises the odd sardonic eyebrow in approval at the proceedings.

All thoughts of lonely goatherds banished, I'm taken away on a prog adventure in Magenta's own inimitable style. Short, concise, almost indie-ish numbers like 'I'm Alive' and passionate, intense tracks like 'Red' (lit in, um, red - see what they did there?) nestle alongside retro-prog monoliths from the 'Revolutions' album - amusingly including the section from 'Man the Machine' which contains the lyric "Internet and Email, let us worship you and praise", delivered by Christina directly at uber-fan Pedro - either recognising the importance of their internet fan base, or... a giant flaming coincidence. 

I also take a glance to my right during this track and spot Tangent main man Andy Tillison looking directly over Rob Reed's shoulder from the gallery next to the stage, whilst what can only be described as "rocking out" to one of his keyboard solos. It's great to see some of the weekend's musicians hanging around to support and enjoy the other bands, and he's not the only one.

90 minutes pass in a flash and highlights are many - Chris Fry's face throughout the entire gig being one of them, but I'll pick out two - first up, 'Demons', with its epic instrumental section, which features Chris jumping up on his stack for maximum axe-wielding rock godness...

... and secondly, tonight's longest track - the title track from 2008's "Metamorphosis" album (my favourite of theirs - no I know you don't care), where the entire band comes together to give one of the performances of the festival, the new guys prove why they're absolutely the right fit, and everyone has as much fun as one can have whilst playing a song about a serial killer.

It's the last song of the set, or is it? They disappear offstage seemingly for good until Bob comes back on to whip up another cheer from the crowd and, frankly, demand that they come back on and carry on playing. (He tells me later that the encore is all his doing, although it seems very well rehearsed, so I'm not convinced.) But a quick lap of honour with 'Pride' from the "Seven" album, and it really is all over.

Frankly, the first two sets today would have been enough excitement for one day, but having already had 3 and a bit superb full electric sets and a lovely acoustic one, I'm seriously starting to flag by the time the Magenta-high wears off a little. I'm just about to go and find somewhere to sit down and watch the always-excellent Alan Reed at the Acoustic Stage, when I notice that a nice gap's opened up down at the front and that there's a prime opportunity to get in pole position for the festival closing set, so I sadly choose to forgo Alan's set but hear great things about it, and if it's anything like as good as the ones I've seen previously I know I'll have missed out. If you're an idiot like me, make sure you get yourself down to the Peel on the 15th of September and check him out (again)!

Soundchecks are evidently less of an occasion to piss about if you're...

It Bites

... but then, if you're It Bites, you've had several top 40 singles in your nearly 30-year history, and you have people (well, Paddy Darlington, in his third role of the weekend) to do that kind of thing for you.

Yep, It Bites are that rarest of creatures, a prog band who've broken through to the charts, albeit playing what frontman John Mitchell describes tonight as "Cheesy 80's pop", but I prefer to think of as intelligent pop/rock music with a progressive slant. He almost has a point though, in that tonight's set is weighted slightly in favour of 'The Hits', from early anthem 'All in Red' (see if you can guess what colour lights the lighting team go for), to fan-favourite tracks from the comeback album "The Tall Ships" like 'Ghosts' and 'Oh My God' (tonight's opener, which sees Paddy leaping over the front barrier quicker than an Olympic hurdler to try to fix a dodgy cable on founder member and keyboard legend John Beck's rig).

All this means there's less time than I'd personally like for the amazing new concept album 'Map of the Past', of which I slightly expect them to play the entirety - but the highlight of the set comes with a medley of 'Send No Flowers' and 'Meadow and the Stream', the latter being perhaps the most overtly proggy song on the album (in a 7/8, "yeah this is a bit like Cinema Show isn't it but nobody will notice" kind of way).

We also get latest single 'Cartoon Graveyard', a song which they're trying to get onto Radio 2 as we speak - although this only seems possible by editing it down to 4 minutes which surely means missing all the best bits. The new album also provides the day's most emotional moments when John Mitchell dedicates the haunting 'Last Escape' to one of the participants in Terry Pratchett's 'Choosing to Die' documentary, who was a big fan of the band.

Not that there's any lack of prog really, as the main set finishes with the one-two of 'The Wind That Shakes the Barley' and 'Old Man and The Angel' - both fan favourite singalong tracks. And surely this is the point of tonight - it's a closing night headline festival set, designed to give everyone a feel-good, singalong ending to the weekend. It Bites deliver in absolute spades.

As the set closes and once again I glance around at the balconies rammed with people singing along to top 10 hit 'Calling All The Heroes', there's a bit of a spine tingle.

Twang and Geoff have absolutely pulled it off - a weekend of superb, superb music, something for everyone's tastes (not to mention a flipping bucketload for mine), and a place for people to meet other fans of this odd music we call progtacular - assuming we can actually make it across the toffee-coated floors to get to them, that is.



Postlogue

When it's all over, there are literally hundreds of people to wish farewell and to exchange Facebook details with, but we're not really in any rush to go anywhere, so it gets to the stage where we are once again in the venue after hours, getting in the way of actual important work. A bit of light roadie-ing takes up some time and then we get the chance to have a chat with some people who really are supposed to be there.

We're standing talking to Jim and Paul from Tinyfish when Andy Tillison comes over to congratulate the band on a wonderful gig - praise indeed. He chats to Jim for a little bit and then turns to me. "And you, I'm sure you were in Tinyfish too?" Ah, no, I say sadly, unfortunately not, I'm just a big fan. "Well, cheers anyway!", he says and shakes my hand before walking off out of the door, leaving poor Paul pondering why it's always the bass player's fate to be forgotten. (Even now I'm going back through this review making sure I did actually put his name in somewhere other than here...)

Looks like I did, but I forgot to include a picture.
No wonder Andy was confused. Here he is.
Have you seen this bass player?

It's another fantastic moment to add to the weekend's list, and it probably signifies that I've been a hanger on for too long, so it's time to head home. In fact, everyone else has had the same idea so we actually end up being the last ones standing outside on the pavement with Twang, whilst some young Scandinavian girls try to chat him up (for some reason he doesn't appear to be interested, perhaps it all seems like too much hassle after the weekend he's had...)

And bizarrely enough, this tale ends exactly(ish) where it began - with me sitting opposite Twang on a bus, talking about Celebr8. I ask him how I think it went.

"You know what mate, at the end of the day, everybody said it wouldn't fucking work, they said it couldn't be done. And it did - everyone's been fucking impressed with the way it's gone..."

Everyone's absolutely fucking right. Celebr8 has been an unmitigated success down to the hard graft of Twang and Geoff and Bob and Nellie, and everyone else who gave up their time to make it work - their efforts being rewarded with an event to remember, and one which is destined to become an event on the prog calendar that no fan will want to miss.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to practice my vocals for the next Tinyfish tour...