1,346 RIDE, Junodream, Portsmouth Guildhall, Tuesday 17th September 2024

 

A bit further to go than I’d have liked for this one, but needs must when gig schedules clash; I’ve been on board with the post-reunion journey of Oxonian 90’s shoegaze innovators Ride, making up for lost time to a certain extent with a band I should have really liked and seen more back in the day. Since their 2016 reformation, they’ve been full-on noses to the grindstone, this tour pushing their third second-coming album “Interplay”. A fine collection of well-constructed tuneage with distinct nods to their history, this, striking a delicate balance between their effects-led shimmering wall-of-noise material and their difficult yet more song-focussed proto-Britpop/ post punk, so I was up for the tour. Unfortunately, their Bristol SWX date clashed with last Saturday’s Men They Couldn’t Hang Thekla gig, last time out, and I’d already booked tix for that, so this ticket to Ride came with a ride down to the next-nearest venue, down on the South Coast!

Happily, I had company in Ride uber-fan and 90’s Lev friend Robynne, whose husband wouldn’t take her! I picked her up just after 5 for a sunny South Coast drive, taking a wrong turn but eventually finding an open air car park near the venue. Got in 20 minutes after doors to find the auditorium almost deserted, and a house right barrier spot very easy to come by! Yikes! Chatted with fellow front-rower Chas, over from Singapore (!) to visit his Kent-domiciled parents and catch this one, before openers Junodream, on an 8 to a small smattering of folk. I’d picked up their debut album “Pools Of Colour”, finding it pleasant but unmemorable, and for me this set largely followed suit; opener “The Beach” was a meandering piece of unobtrusive dreampop, “Kitchen Sink Drama”, next up, was a more urgent drum-propelled early Death Cab-esque brooding US alt-bedsit pop number, and “Death Drive” a looser-limbed 80’s slice of baggy trip hop. To be fair, vocalist Ed Vyvyan regularly attacked his task with impressive gusto, particularly on the crescendo outros, although his claims of being the best band in the world (or second best to Ride) seemed somewhat far fetched. Closer “Nobody Wants You”, with its intricate upbeat strumalong recalling Real Estate or Rolling Blackouts, was the best of a nice enough set. Damning them with faint praise, I know, but there you go…

Unfortunately, the place still hadn’t really filled that much, and the auditorium seemed only half full (with the balcony shut and blanked off as well!) by the time Ride themselves took the stage at 9 to a suitably dramatic fanfare music backdrop. The straightahead indie rock stylings of newie “Monaco” kicked things into gear, although initially it seemed that the mix was a bit too polished and crystal clear, at the expense of the “sonic cathedrals of noise” that Ride were/ are so renowned for. An early “Dreams Burn Down” suffered particularly, its’ usual ball-crunching post-hook crescendo sounding sadly sedate, the thin sound rendering this usually mighty number a little ponderous, and I pondered this during the properly epilepsy-inducing strobe assault of a nevertheless dramatic “Killswitch”; have Ride eschewed their usual pedal-stomping modus operandi to accentuate the songcraft of the new material, but in the process lost that thrilling sonic assault? 

Happily, after an eerie, stripped-back reading of morose newie “I Came To See The Wreck”, the upbeat groove of “Twisterella” marked an ironic turning point, the balance between the crispness of sound and full-on thrilling wall-of-sound much better, as the hitherto taciturn band, initially playing within themselves, seemed to really warm to their task. The clipped, undulating hook and hypnotic krautrock beat of “Lannoy Point” was easily the best thus far, but that was eclipsed in short order by the crashing intro and sweeping strident hook of a brilliant “Taste”, seeing me give it loads in my front row spot. That’s what we’re here for!

The set denouement maintained this quality control; “Cool Your Boots” was all shimmering oscillation and cascading drums, “Vapour Trail” superbly widescreen and windswept as ever, and “Seagull” a barnstorming psych workout to close out a proper set of two halves. First encore “Light In A Quiet Room” featured a juxtaposition of the delicate choral harmony between main men Mark Gardener and Andy Bell and the noisy crescendo outro, before the lugubrious and meandering “Leave Them All Behind” required 2 takes (Bell labelling the short abortive first start as the “Tik Tok, short attention span” version! The embryonic heady rush of “Chelsea Girl” rounded off a damn fine overall set, the impressively bearded roadie then handing me a list, then we bade farewell to Chas and fellow front rower Ian, there with his son, before a quick and chatty drive up the A34/ M4 beat route saw me dropping Robynne back just after midnight. So, a slow burner, this, but one that really built up a head of steam and finished strongly, and was definitely worth the lengthy trip!

1,321 RIDE, Bristol Rough Trade Records, Wednesday 3rd April 2024

 

Not mine, unfortunately, kudos to occasional gig buddy Alfie for swiping the mixing desk list!

Fair play to Ride; they’re not just resting on the laurels of their lauded shoegaze/ neo Britpop past… This iconic reformed 90’s band, a couple of years removed from touring the Covid-delayed 30^th Anniversary of their classic and genre-defining debut album, 1990’s “Nowhere” (a tour I caught in Bristol for a stunning performance, gig 1,221), announced plans for a new album, their third such since their 2015 reunion. Snatches of said album “Interplay” sounded very promising indeed, a definite upbeat groove underpinning their shimmering yet muscular guitar sound, so I pre-ordered a copy of the album, plus tix for their Autumn tour (having to shlep it down to Portsmouth for that one, as I’d already made plans for their Bristol date). However, this then came up… I was rather hoping they’d do a Rough Trade in-store album release tour whilst not counting on it, but booked as soon as it was announced, spreading the word to like-minded friends in the process. Ride at close quarters, then a meet and greet? Yes please; particularly as there’s a burning question I’d been meaning to ask them if I ever got the chance…

So I picked Rich May up, spending a longer than anticipated (and cross-country!) drive down to Brizzle catching up – been awhile! Met up with friends Matt and newly-domiciled Bristolian Sarah, already there in this splendid small back-room venue. Whiled away the time as the room filled up – a sold-out one this, not surprisingly… Ride took the stage spot on at 7.30, the front row of vocalist/ guitarists Andy Bell and Mark Gardener, plus bassist Steve Queralt taking seats line abreast, Andy immediately bigging up the album; “last we checked we’re no. 2 [in the album charts], beaten only by Beyonce; that’s a strange situation!” 

Thereafter we were treated to a shining 40-minute acoustic vignette, understandably concentrating on the new album material, and revealing Ride are hitting a rich vein of songwriting form, the “Interplay” material on show tonight largely standing pat with the best of their post-reunion releases. Opener “Peace Sign” was powered by a tough beat from drummer Laurence Colbert and featured an impressive languid dual vocal hook interplay (sic) from Andy and Mark; “Last Frontier”’s backbeat drum opening ceded to a New Order-esque ascending bass underpinning a melancholy verse and beautifully harmonic chorus; and “Monaco” was a robust metronomic rocker even in this format. Between numbers, Ride again demonstrated they’re in fine fooling, those turbulent Britpop days thankfully long gone, with some fun banter, Andy keeping the anti-Beyonce vibe going, and Mark responding to a punter asking about a Welsh gig with, “Andy’s from Wales and if he goes back, he’ll be in trouble!”

An unexpected “Vapour Trail”, stripped back and delicately delivered, was utterly gorgeous, Mark then announcing, “let’s keep the oldies flowing for the nostalgia element in the room!” with a bouncy, strumalong and almost Beatles-esque “OX4”. Finally, “Last Night I Went Somewhere To Dream” reluctantly ended proceedings, a menacing, almost Burundi drumbeat recalling Echo And The Bunnymen’s “Zimbo” flowing into a lighter, pastoral chorus. Great way to end an understated but warm and shining set. 

Signing sesh afterwards, so after a wait we got albums signed and pics taken, plus I brought my Gigbook Volume 2, featuring the NME “On” piece from January 1990 which introduced me to Ride, along for the boys to sign, Laurence showing particular interest in my memorabilia which was nice. I also got to ask that question – when are they going to play “Shiiine On”? Mark murmured, “yeah we should play there”, my rather gushing reply of, “you totally should, you’d utterly smash it,” being cut across by Andy replying, “you can’t just turn up you know, you have to be asked!” So, come on Shiiine On, get asking…!

Left the venue with Oxonian Mark giving me some friendly gyp for my Swindon Town FC allegiances (!), before farewells to Matt and Sarah, and a drizzly yet quicker drive home, dropping Rich off then home via Jimmy’s for late kebab tea. So maybe they’re not at Shiiine On this year (unless they’re all phenomenal poker players!), but on this form, that aforementioned Ride Portsmouth gig this September should be a “live” highlight of the Autumn…

1,221 RIDE, bdrmm, Bristol Marble Factory, Sunday 24th April 2022

 

Reformed Oxford shoegaze/ pre-Britpop roustabouts Ride are on the road again… A band whom I liked very much back in the day, at least until their thrilling shoegaze sound morphed into less innovative baggy/ Britpop and unfortunate band infighting (one apocryphal story of that time seeing co-writers Andy Bell and Mark Gardener fall out so hard, that they insisted their own tunes not be put on the same side of Ride’s 3^rd album as the other bloke’s!), the times I’d seen them since their 2016 reunion (particularly that June 2018 Cure undercard appearance, gig 1,095, when their entrance music alone won them Band Of The Day!) made me actually wish I’d liked them much more back then! So when this tour – a 30^th Anniversary run-through of their stunning debut album “Nowhere” – was announced, I was all over it like a rash. Got me a ticket to Ride!

 I wasn’t the only one either –old Level 3 buddy Robynne and her slightly reluctant daughter Tia were going too, so I picked them up just before 6, anticipating some difficulty parking in this industrial estate-located venue but finding the last spot down a nearby side-road to dump the motor and join the queue. Grabbed barrier spots, house right, and chatted before openers bdrmm at 7.45. Their first 2 numbers were a bit gruesome; inarticulate guitar howls and pounding drums with not a hint of a tune, and although they settled down and played some atmospheric, gloomy and gothy post-punk noise with occasional hints of Cure-like bass and Diiv-esque monotone driving rhythm, they only had a couple of numbers (the 3^rd one, and their last, best number, which had hints of the headliners’ “Drive Blind” about it) which seemed to feature those old staples of tune, verse and chorus. Some brief flashes of promise amidst all the murk, but so far they seem more interested in coaxing “interesting” noises out of their instruments a la My Bloody Valentine (viz. the bassist kneeling to generate feedback from his monitor) than doing something so prosaic as writing songs!

 So, from the (faintly) ridiculous, to the utterly sublime… the place rapidly filled up, seeming busier than a lot of sold-out gigs I’ve been to of late, and expectation was palpable. The lights smashed to black and Ride joined us at 8.45, vocalist Mark Gardener looking somewhat taken aback by the reception as he greeted us with, “good evening Bristol! Wow! We’re gonna play “Nowhere”…” thence launching into the opening guitar squeal of “Seagull”, and we were away…

 

Without wishing to kick off with hyperbole, Ride were fucking awesome tonight, easily the best I’ve seen them since their reunion. They were “on it” from note one, celebrating the 2-year-postponed 30^th anniversary of their 1990 debut “Nowhere” which, when it arrived back in the day on the coattails of a trio of frantic, murky yet thrilling EPs, defined the “shoegaze” genre with MBV’s shimmering, reverb-heavy soundscapes aligned with the epic, stately post-punk “rockist” sound of Echo And The Bunnymen, sweeping and swooping in majestic and grandiose fashion. However, to just harp on about “soundscapes” and atmosphere does this album a disservice; simply put, it’s a collection of superb songs which have comfortably stood the test of time, and which were given full shining justice tonight. The sound was spot on; the swathes of guitar feedback were actually dialled down, allowing Andy Bell’s inverted Indian/ psychedelic guitar licks, almost Byrdsian “5^th Dimension”-like in their baroque intricacy, to really shine. And the band were clearly loving it up there, Gardener teasing the frenzied crowd for more cheers, wearing a wry smile of silent satisfaction throughout, and constantly complimenting not only the audience but the venue itself (“this place is really great, really echoey and gothy!” and “do they really make Marbles here?” being a couple of asides).

 Highlights? All of them! But particularly the elegiac march of “In A Different Place”, the languid majesty, cascading riffery and iconic drumbeat of my set highlight “Dreams Burn Down”, the gloriously sweeping “Paralysed”, the mesmeric, joyful and lengthy denouement to a stratospheric “Vapour Trail” and a frenzied, mosh-inducing but singalong “Taste”. The maleficent brooding menace and extended psych feedback finale to “Nowhere” rounded off as swift an hour set as I’ve seen of late, with a 6 (!) song encore featuring excellent newie “Lannoy Point”, the anthemic “OX4” (the crowd reaction prompting Gardener’s thanks for “taking this song to another level”) and the lugubrious, lengthy closer “Leave Them All Behind” taking us up to 10.30 and the finale of a stunning set, Gardener commenting, “let’s do this again… but not in 30 years!”

 A relatively easy set list, but a horrendous drive home thanks to a motorway closure, a subsided diversion and getting stuck behind a lorry, so home at midnight. Bah! But worth it for Ride on this form. Superb gig!

1,167 RIDE, The Soft Cavalry, Southampton Engine Rooms, Sunday 8th December 2019

You’d think that after such a mental rock weekend-punctuated November, I’d be looking to soften the toll on my 50-something bones and quietly ease out of this gigging year, right? Wrong! Tonight marked the first of 4 gigs in 7 days, all out-of-towners, and a swift return to a problematic venue in Southampton’s oddly-shaped, poor-egress affected Engine Rooms, to see Oxford shoegaze veterans Ride. Over 4 years on now from their surprise reunion (and a shade short of thirty years since that buzzsaw debut “Ride” EP assaulted our eardrums!), they’re pretty much a normal working band now, announcing this tour in support of new album “This Is Not A Safe Place”, the second since their reformation. Another balance of the shimmering guitar effects of the early Ride, the more straight-forward Britpop of their later first-time-around material, and a few odd diversions along the way, it’s an interesting if not overly gripping listen, but I’m always happy to book tix for a “live” Ride experience, in the knowledge that the old stuff will still sound great, and hopefully the new material will make more sense “live”, right?

Thankfully infrequent gig buddy Rich May (infrequent only because he’s on permanent nights!)  feels the same, so we booked tix separately and travelled down a sodden M4/A34 together, parking up and joining the queue for entry about 7.30. A little sparse early doors for openers The Soft Cavalry, taking the stage dead on 8. A side-project of Rachel and hubby Steve Clarke from shoegaze/slowcore veterans Slowdive, a band who I've recently warmed to after their making little to no impression on me first time around, they impressed from the off with opener "Bulletproof", a hazy summery vibe with a dark undercurrent and shades of understated New Order-esque bass. Nice! "Has anyone heard our record?" asked Clarke (who cut an impressive figure onstage, all big beard, black fedora and imposing gestures) to a smattering of cheers; "well, that's better than usual!" Dark atmospherics, slow-burn verses building to wild, windswept choruses and discordant keyboards were the order of the day, with "Spiders" variously recalling John Foxx and beloved (of me, anyway!) early 80s post-punkers Modern Eon, a later track being underpinned with some Beach Boys textures, and others featuring enough droney choral moodiness to suggest you can take the boy/girl out of shoegaze, but...! Final number "Ever Turning Wheel" featured a mesmeric crescendo redolent of The Pale Saints' classic "Sight Of You", ending an impressive set.

Bumped into TSC's Rachel after a loo break, who signed my set-list despite my mentioning my lack of enthusiasm for Slowdive! Well, at least she didn't call me a cunt, like Ian Prowse did...! Back to our house left spot just before Ride, only to note we were suddenly surrounded by big fuckers, including one directly in front of me who was practically blocking out the sun, never mind the stage...! Ride took the stage to their discordant new CD opener, the Viet Cong-like "R.I.D.E", teasing in with a couple of breezy newies before the loose-limbed danceathon of "Leave Them All Behind", Andy Bell coaxing off-kilter psych riffs from his guitar on the spotlight and dry ice-swathed stage. Vocalist Mark Gardiner, buoyant and smiling throughout, remarked, "alright! This is fun!" and initially things were going well, the stomp and dual vocal attack of "Charm Assault" an early highlight. However, the set drifted for me thereafter, a proliferation of new material played well enough but not really adding the extra power I was hoping for "live", a few mid-song thrashy guitar crescendos notwithstanding. It really took until a tremendous and undulating "Lannoy Point", 50 minutes in, for Ride to really soar to their fullest, the subsequent "OX4" hypnotic, and "Taste" the skyscraping and magnificent best number tonight. A brash, urgent "Killswitch" was the best new number on show before the feedback fest of "Drive Blind" saw Mark throw shapes and conduct proceedings through the onstage murk, and "Vapour Trail"s moody melancholy ended the set of a high, before encore "Seagull", stretched, sinuous and effect-heavy, closed proceedings.

Missed out on a list (D'oh! Still, sometimes you get the bear, sometimes the bear gets you), before a problematic drive back saw us diverting off the M3, then me taking a wrong turn back on the M3 heading back towards Southampton! D'oh! So, twas a slightly later than anticipated 12.30 when I dropped Rich off, ruminating on a variable Ride set. A shame much of the new material didn't shine through as hoped, but the likes of "Lannoy Point" and particularly "Taste" showed Ride can still hit the heights if their aim is right. So I'll remember that from tonight!

1,095 BRITISH SUMMER TIME PRESENTS THE CURE 40TH ANNIVERSARY, Plus Supporting Undercard, London Hyde Park, Saturday 7th July 2018

The third Saturday in a row “oop the Smoke”, and this one’s the biggest of the lot; a massive all day outdoor show in London’s iconic Hyde Park, on the hottest day of the year? Woah…

Arguably, it wasn’t supposed to be like this… British Summer time (the season, not the event!) is normally unpredictable at best, mitigating against such big events on my part. But when BST (the event this time) announced this one as part of their annual programme of huge Hyde Park extravaganzas, I couldn’t resist… it wasn’t so much the chance to see post-punk goth/pop icons The Cure again after 25 years – I like them fine but can take or leave them (much more of a Bunnymen fan back in the day, when it seemed you were either one or the other) – but more so the stellar and totally apposite undercard of post-punk/ shoegaze bands, that enticed me into parting with the big ticket price, getting on the Cure fanclub presale (despite not being a member!) and locking one down before they quickly sold out. Having booked early, I was anticipating needing layers or even waterproofs to survive the day, but when it came around the country was gripped in a lengthy heatwave, so this was going to be a different proposition altogether!

The heatwave wasn’t the only thing gripping the nation; with World Cup 2018 in full swing and Gareth Southgate’s excellent young England side due to play their crucial Quarter Final game against Sweden that afternoon, clashing with a couple of the bands I’d booked specifically to see, a decision had to be made. Rock won the day over footy, though, so an early departure at 9.30 with my wingman and Cure aficionado Rich May got us to Osterley tube car park for 11, and a baking hot Hyde Park for just before midday. Sought out some shade from the unrelenting heat before joining the GA queue at 12.40 – thankfully the organisers threw us hardy early-comers a bone and opened up the gates well before the scheduled 1.30, giving us time not only to get our bearings in the large site (due to accommodate 65,000 grumpy heatstroke-affected goths today!), but, more importantly, wander down the front and get admission to the “Golden Circle” at the front of the main “Great Oak” stage! Result!

So, I divested myself of my t-shirt and slathered up, and we grabbed a respectable viewing spot midway back in the GC – I’m normally one for getting a whole chunk closer to the front, but it’s way too hot to be that close to that many other people – particularly in my shirtless and increasingly sweaty state! Still, we were in a good viewing place for openers PALE WAVES at 1.40. A promising young band I’d been meaning to check out, their set felt like an enjoyable yet indiscriminate rummage through their parents’ record collections (dad with the gothy post-punk, mum with the slightly Deacon Blue-ish soul-inflected shiny bouncy pop), also feeling like the soundtrack to some 80’s John Hughes bratpack teen romance movies, all plangent dynamics and wispy ethereal vocals. We even pinpointed one of their kick-drum-fuelled crescendos in an early “Heavenly” as the point when Molly Ringwold kisses John McCarthy at the end of the film! Nonetheless, it was fun, tuneful and I’d certainly check out their album now. A quick run out to fill my water bottle (which would be the routine for the day – regular rehydration keeping me going in this heat!) then got us back in the by-now rapidly-filling Circle for SLOWDIVE, running early at 2.40. A band I’d blanked on back in their early 90’s shoegaze heyday, finding what I’d heard wispy and insubstantial, and lacking in the pacier dynamics of fellow genre-lumpees Ride, Lush etc., I nonetheless very much enjoyed their comeback album last year so approached this set with an open mind. Early oldie “Catch The Breeze” was absorbing and stately layered dreampop and newie “Star Roving” unexpectedly and splendidly dynamic, making up for a sandwiched “Crazy For You” which I felt was a little throwaway. “Sugar For The Pill” was lovely and touching, and final number “When The Sun Hits” a growling rocker with a roaring crescendo, ending a variable but oft-times excellent vignette. They enjoyed it anyway, Rachel Goswell gushing that she could see her dad in the viewing terraces, house right, then bringing her child onstage at the end to wave at the crowd, before doubtless pissing off with the rest of the band to catch the rest of the first half of the footy!

 The mood of the increasing crowd was buoyed by England going 1-0 up shortly afterwards, so were in party spirits to welcome EDITORS, on just after 3.45 (half-time, coincidentally…!). Ten years or so ago, I’d bullishly declared Editors the Best Of British and potential headliners in any age, but since then they’ve delivered 3 albums of diminishing quality, their most recent, this year’s “Violence” a morose and plodding, and frankly dull, little beast. I was therefore hoping they’d just go full-on festival mode and concentrate on the bangers for this 45-minute set, rather than focus too much on this newer stuff. The truth is, as always, somewhere in between; blustering opener “Hallelujah (So Low)” dragged, but a subsequent “Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors” was soaring and epic as ever, albeit with the final chorus losing some of its’ oomph after the operatically building late crescendo, and an itchy, claustrophobic rhythmic post-punk double of “Blood” and “Munich” were both excellent, the angular and kinetic Tom Smith getting the crowd onside with a, “what a day… should we mention the football?” comment. “Racing Rats” was ace, anthemic and insistent, making up for an overlong couple of mid-set newies, then the robotic synth of “Papillon” was lengthy and epic, getting the crowd jumping. Shame they didn’t end it there, as final number “Magazine” was smooth stadium pomp, but an odd one to finish on. As with Slowdive, some excellent moments “live”, but in all honesty they’re sadly a couple of albums past their recorded best…

A quick departure from the Golden Circle then, and a dash to the back of the open and exposed arena to the smaller Barclaycard Stage; Scotland’s THE TWILIGHT SAD, protegees of both Editors and Robert Smith of The Cure, were well into their set, heavily-accented vocalist James Graham quipping, “this is Summer time music for you to cool down to!” as they embarked on another morose little bedsit ditty. A band totally fitting their name, “There’s A Girl In The Corner” was gloomy and doomy, initially recalling Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control”, and “And She Would Darken The Memory” was a bleak and bare exposition of lost love. Before their final number, a Frightened Rabbit cover in tribute to Scott Hutchison, so sadly lost recently, Graham announced, “it means everything that you’re standing there, so thank you so fucking much!” to a roar of approval. A fine set, well worth crossing the park for, and well-received too by the ebullient crowd, their mood being lifted further as news filtered through that England had won 2-0 and were in the World Cup Semi Final!

This brought us to just after 5, the place started to really fill up with the footy-watching latecomers and there was a lull in proceedings, for me at least… tempting though the chicken curry may have been, I decided against that because the parched arena, if anything, was getting even hotter in the relentless late afternoon sun! Sufficed with an £8 (!) burger, munching it as we wandered back towards the Great Oak stage, meeting up with Rich’s brother Colin, his lady Jane and friends to catch some of GOLDFRAPP. The one outlier on the bill for me, the blue jumpsuited Alison led her band through some smooth commercial techno glam synth, very Bowie-esque (an early number even appropriating the rhythm from “The Jean Genie”) and therefore really not all that bad, actually, albeit somewhat unmemorable and short of real hooks. However, I did recognise one number from a TV ad (!), and her final number reminded me of 70’s oldie “The Crunch” by The Rah Band!

Rich and I filled up with fluid (me water, Rich beer!) and took a walk back into the by-now very pungently sweet-smelling GC (I’d forgotten how much these big outdoor shows positively reek of cannabis at times!) for INTERPOL, on at 6.30. Fourteen years ago, following their outstanding sophomore effort “Antics”, I’d declared them an important and influential band for the new millennium, and since then they’d made every effort to prove me wrong, with a couple of subsequent albums which were so forgettable they never really touched the sides. Probably the one band I was least looking forward to on this stacked bill, then, so I shouldn’t have been surprised as they again set out to prove me wrong, delivering from the outset a dynamic and electrifying set of superbly building and dramatic doomy post-punk. Opener “Not Even Jail” was typical, ominously building to a seethingly huge crescendo with Paul Banks’ commanding baritone a feature, possibly the best sounding number of the night, and “All The Rage Back Home” was cranked up, amped up and galloping. “A great honour to play here – and on a great day too… go England!” announced Banks, currying the enthusiastic crowd’s favour before the elegiac opening to a deliciously dark “Obstacle No. 1”, then new single “The Rover” was a frenzied B movie car chase soundtrack, and might just have put Interpol back on my “Best Of” CD for this year! (Very) oldie “Roland” was an embryonic NYC punk rock blast straight out of Max’s Kansas City in the 70’s, and overall Interpol were totally smashing it, so it was a damn shame that their set overlapped slightly with my potential highlights of the day and I had to leave a couple of numbers short of the end, hearing the excellent “Evil” only as a distant echo, as I arrived back over by a silent, packed and anticipatory Barclaycard Stage.

Suddenly the silence was broken… by the bright synth pop tones and Kenneth Wolstenholme commentary intro to New Order’s “World In Motion”! As entrance music tracks go, this was a stroke of genius, capturing the mood of the day and the crowd perfectly, Mark Gardener then leading the band on, singing along to the backing track. RIDE are winning the day, I thought, and they’ve not even started playing yet! Without further ado, “Lannoy Point” kicked off, the smooth dual harmonies of Gardener and Andy Bell overlapping splendidly for an excellent rendition of their 2017 album opening track, and the angular and pulsating wah-wah of oldie “Seagull” was pounding and magnificent, the crowd going nuts as the track sped up to a noisy conclusion. “I’ve got a massive semi!” Bell quipped before asking if anyone knew the score of the other Quarter Final (being played at the time), then a libidinous, lugubrious “Leave Them All Behind” was stretched, loose-limbed and groovy as all get out. “Vapour Trail” however even topped that, this ordinarily lazy, hazy and introspective moody dreamlike shoegaze number taking serious flight, feeling like a celebration as the crowd filled in with a terrace chant of the riff, prompting Gardener to comment, “what a fucking day… incredible!” All too soon, “Drive Blind” capped my Set Of The Day with a tremendous and thunderous feedback mid-section, Gardener blowing kisses and initiating “England!” chants whilst coaxing feedback noise from his effects pedals. Superb stuff!

 The headliners had already started at this point, but I stuck around to grab a Ride list, then some eats on the wander back into the Golden Circle. By then THE CURE had already delivered a plaintive “Pictures Of You”, mainman Robert Smith’s distinctive and curiously pleading vocal style already the main feature, dominating the mix, particularly over the very quiet guitars… As I mentioned, I like The Cure fine, but they’re one of those bands (Simple Minds and Adam And The Ants being obvious others) who have a “watershed” song, before which I’m happy with any of their stuff, and after which I don’t really care much for… Said number, the funky “The Walk”, marking the point where their early, frantic, stripped and tinny new wave morphed into a mixture of bleak bedsit goth and trite toytown pop, was early in the set and actually sounded quite good, recalling those mid 80’s Level 3 days a little. “Just Like Heaven” prompted much happy twirling from the devotees, and the haunting opening to a deliciously ominous “A Forest” led to a beefy bass outro, but, those apart, the set drifted for me somewhat in the middle and I was distracted by a rather convincing Robert Smith lookalike wandering around the enclosure, being stopped by impressed random punters for selfie pics!

After a well-delivered and crowd-pleasing 1 ½ hour set replete with hits, they were off briefly at 9.45; however the subsequent 10 song (!) encore was largely great and way much more to my Cure era. “Friday I’m In Love” was sturdy, joyful and singalong, “Why Can’t I Be You” a soaring and brassy Motown stomp, then, after profuse thanks from an otherwise taciturn Smith, the stark, pleading break-up jangle of “Boys Don’t Cry” led to my set highlight, a thrillingly jagged, tense and taut “Jumping Someone Else’s Train”. Inevitable finale “Killing An Arab” sounded superb, a rampant, full-on punkish blast through their debut single, tough and growling, a great way to finish the day, and a performance which, on reflection, was about as good as I’d hoped and way better than I’d feared. “It’s been a good first 4 decades, here’s to the next ones!” deadpanned Smith as he left the stage to rapturous applause from the devoted, and we headed off to Green Park tube, finding egress remarkably easy, catching a quick tube back to Osterley and the car, at which point I finally – finally! – put my t-shirt back on!

 So, back home for 12.30, having survived the relentless heat, and having thoroughly enjoyed our day. All the bands I wanted to see delivered at least some excellent highlights, Ride for me capturing the euphoric mood of the day with a perfectly judged set to win my Band Of The Day. But overall a great day in excellent company and a great way to celebrate the 40^th Anniversary of an enduring and iconic band in The Cure. In all ways, then, this was a hot one!

1,061 RIDE, Ulrika Spacek, Bristol SWX, Thursday 9th November 2017

A quick warm-up to the forthcoming weekend's “Shiiine On” shenanigans came in this short-notice gig; I'd been eyeing up another Ride gig since their splendid return at Field Day 2 years ago but hadn't made it happen, however the late cancellation of Rachel's governor's meeting freed me up for this one. So, 2 years on from sell-out reunion gigs and festival headline slots, and with a new album in tow in the shape of "Weather Diaries", pitching somewhere between the post-shoegaze sonics of "Going Blank Again" and the troubled embryonic Britpop of "Tarantula" but still a fine listen, what shape would Ride be in "live"?

A swift drive down an inky M4 saw me parking up and hitting the venue partway through support Ulrika Spacek, a young 5-piece who were hammering through a sludgy blues riff for all it was worth... to the extent that the same riff kicked off the next number! Subsequent songs were of a more laze-rock/ slacker persuasion, giving the impression that they wouldn't have been out of place on an early 90's Dinosaur Jr. support slot! Alright, I suppose, but some way short of fellow 90's post-grunge acolytes Yuck or Pity Sex (not to mention the excellent Nothing) in terms of tuneage.

As they concluded, I took a look around... it certainly seems as though the dust has now settled on the initial furore of the Ride reunion and its’ now back to “business as usual”. This was definitely not the sold-out in 30 minutes Roundhouse of 2 years ago; there was plenty of room to swing an average sized anaconda in here, and although it filled up by showtime, I was still able to hit the loo shortly before lights and return to my exact same spot, 2 rows back from the dry-ice saturated stage!

Ride themselves kept us waiting until 9, before coming on to their own instrumental "Integration Tape" track as intro music. Main vocalist Mark Gardener pressed a floor switch on one of two impressive banks of effects pedals either size of his mic set-up, then led the band into "Lannoy Point", the opener and most undulatingly melodic track on the new album. "A better sense to start again..." prophetic lyrics indeed! The slashing Britpop riff of "Charm Assault" followed, sounding superb, particularly the discordant middle 8 break, before the soaring psych-guitar and impressive barrage of tumbling drums heralded tonight’s first oldie "Seagull", Gardener and Andy Bell's smooth intertwining choral harmonies also a feature here. "Loz is running on Duracells, definitely!" remarked a wide-eyed Gardener in tribute to his hard-working drummer.

In all fairness, the same could be said for them all tonight; the Ride boys all put in a pretty fair shift, and as a consequence sounded superb; well practised, tough, tight and road-tested. Also, the bonhomie and camaraderie evidenced by Gardener's comment to his drummer was evident throughout; none of the petty acrimony that led to their original split here tonight, thankfully. This looked and sounded like a band starting again... oldies notwithstanding! A well-planned set too, with new material interspersed with old, and given equal emphasis as a result. Old Level 3 dancefloor fave "Taste" provided the first singalong of the night to the triumphant hook, and new single "Pulsar" featured Bell's growling bass underpinning an almost jolly marching beat. "Like A Daydream" was a huge highlight, with its driving beat and descending verse, and whilst I'd have liked more wall-of-noise to flesh out "Dreams Burn Down", the clarity of the chiming guitar and death-march drumbeat was a delight.

The penultimate "Vapour Trail" was stately and majestic, prompting another singalong, and set closer "Drive Blind" gave us a lengthy mid-song Bob Mould-esque feedback fest, with Gardener, clearly having a ball up there, conducting the crowd playfully before its denouement. Great stuff, and encores of the excellent, lengthy and libidinous groove of "Leave Them All Behind" and the inevitable yet gloriously headlong rush of "Chelsea Girl" concluded a 2 hour set demonstrating Ride are in great form!

Look mum, there I am! Bottom left corner, glasses, arms aloft...

Chatted with fellow punters before hitting the road after a splendid evening, a great warm-up for “Shiiine On” thanks to a rejuvenated Ride. Note to the organisers; on this form Ride would slay “Shiiine On” - get them as 2018 headliners!

951 FIELD DAY (Sunday Only), London Victoria Park, Sunday 7th June 2015

So here's a rare treat; an all day Festival; day 2 of “Field Day”! A chance combination of circumstances led me to this one; I’d booked tickets to see reformed 90’s rock/ shoegaze legends Ride at The Roundhouse at the end of May, having won a bet with Rachel about whether/ how quickly they’d sell out – they all went within ½ hour, well below my hour limit (Rachel having said they wouldn’t sell out at all), and Rachel’s forfeit was to buy me the ticket! However, Swindon Town FC, whom I’d been intermittently following this season for the first time in years along with an increasingly interested little boy (Logan), then scuppered things by getting to Wembley for the League One Play-Off Final – on the same evening! D’oh! A quick look into this Festival, where Ride had also been announced as headliners, revealed that it was a) not sold out, b) blessed with a very enticing undercard, c) seemingly accessible, albeit via a lengthy tube trip across London, and d) relatively cheap, only £15 or so more than the Ride Roundhouse tix (which I then managed to move on elsewhere at face value) had cost!

 

So after speaking very nicely to my dear lady wife, I secured tickets for this and the footy, recouped the cost thanks to a (modest) work bonus, then took Logan to Wembley on the clashing day, where Swindon duly went belly-up and lost 4-0! D’oh! Still, hopefully Field Day would make up for this… I was joined on the day by Rich May, who also took his son to Wembley but wanted to catch Ride, and we set off at 9.30 on a sunny Sunday morning, armed with sunscreen and water. Parked up at Osterley, under the Heathrow flight paths, then tubed it over to Victoria Park, hitting the venue about 12.30 after a short walk from Bethnal Green tube, but finding the arena not yet open! We mused about the actual purpose of all the variously fluorescent orange and green clad security bods, before they eventually let us in at 1 pm via a thorough search, which stopped just short of rubber gloves and cavities, I’m glad to say… We got our bearings in the long but compact 10,000 capacity arena, and headed over to the Big Tent (sponsored by the local Shacklewell Arms venue) for our early wake-up call. EX HEX were still soundchecking as we arrived into a deserted tent, but when they came back onstage for their performance at 1.25, the tent was respectably populated. The all-girl Washington DC trio kicked into their scuzzy garage rock set with a groovy “Don’t Wanna Lose”, following up with “Waterfall”, their best number, which for me sounded a bit understated. However, they warmed to their task and by “How You Got That Girl”, sung by bassist Betsy, they were their usual kinetic whirl of lurid red lippy, sunglasses, hot pants and rock poses. “We slept for one hour after our show last night – we’re in the crazy zone!” announced Bets, and they proceeded to invite us in! “So Hot So Cold” nicely appropriated a riff from The Knack’s classic “My Sharona”, and the final number saw a lengthy rock guitar workout, closing a fine opening set. A nice punctuation was provided as, following my request for the list, Betsy folded it up then executed a laser-like, “across the diamond” throw, which I caught. Spot on!

 

We headed out into the dusty, sun-drenched arena to check out the merch, but were waylaid by some tough sounding soaring pop from BEACH BABY in the small Verity Tent along the left side of the venue. Their vocalist recalled Justin from The Vaccines with his rabble-rousing howl, but after their early U2-like opener, their set moved into blander Boo Radleys/ Britpop territory, pastoral and pleasant but a tad forgettable. So into the main arena, where EAGULLS were kicking off their mainstage rumpus with a song based on that “Come As You Are”/ “Eighties” growling bass riff… I slathered up with sunscreen and checked them out (only being distracted by a passing Betsy Ex Hex, whose throwing arm I complimented) enjoying their spirit and attitude, but their resonant punky blast seemed promising but a little one-dimensional at this point. So I gave them 20 minutes then headed back to the Big Tent to check out ALLAH-LAS, who’d been recommended to me by Mr. Dean Ford. They were also pleasant but forgettable; jangly pop with both C86 and very 60’s Merseybeat overtones, with one number recalling the languor of “Mayflower”-era Weather Prophets, and others reminding me of the Searchers!

 

Their set done, we passed by the Verity tent again for a couple of numbers from LEOPOLD AND HIS FICTION, which were bluesy rockabilly struts, albeit not particularly well done, then wandered to the back of the arena to check out the merch – a pretty poor selection really (sorry, I’m too old and messy for white t-shirts these days…!), so the money stayed in the wallet! DIIV were kicking off their 3.30 mainstage set as I left Rich to meet up with his brother and returned; they sounded more coherent than before, in a slightly ethereal, Cure-like way, but I was back to the Big Tent!

 

Down the front as the guys from VIET CONG, who had apparently only just turned up to the festival site (“like, 3 minutes ago…!”) and were thus still soundchecking, the blond moptopped drummer wandering onstage, viewing the large assemblage and saying, “fuck, yeah!” to himself. After thanking the crowd for waiting, vocalist Matt Flegel referred to his band as, “sloppy Canadian fucks,” but their set was anything but; bursting into life with the breathless, Interpol/ Bloc Party-like opener “Silhouettes”, Matt’s vocals an even more low, menacing growl than on their challenging, confrontational current CD, they were taut, wiry and immediately conveying a sense of early 80’s Cold War claustrophobia, an uneasy feeling of impending doom which was both unsettling and yet, perversely, appealing. The off kilter slashing riff of “Bunker Buster” followed, moody, echoey and schizophrenic, then after a newie (“Unconscious”?), they tackled their sprawling CD closer “Death”, both absorbing and disturbing, building speed to a Husker Du-like crescendo, cutting the speed in favour of mighty slashing guitar riffery mid-song, then swooping breathlessly off in another direction throughout its’ 15 minute length. This climaxed a brutal, bruising and uncompromising set of thrilling guitar noise from a very promising new band. Good stuff!

 

Had a brief conversation with beefy bassist Marty whilst packing his gear up onstage (during the set, he’d alluded to his equipment getting fucked up beforehand), failing to scrounge a list as they hadn’t used one (well, they only played 4 songs, so no surprise!), then ran into Rich and scooted off to the food village , to grab pulled pork rolls for tea. MAC DEMARCO, on the main stage, spun a Summery vibe that was pleasant enough and appropriate for the sunkissed arena, but was lightweight and gossamer thin, like Toploader if they’d blanded out even more, and so inoffensive it was, well, offensive! We gave him 10 minutes, by which time his onstage larks were more entertaining than his music, then called in on the Verity stage for the last couple of numbers from IN HEAVEN. I liked their closer, as it had the scuzzy, sleazy loud-quiet-loud dynamics of The Pixies, then was left frustrated as their set finished 10 minutes early! So with time to kill, we set up on the fringes of the Big Tent awaiting former Supergrass man GAZ COOMBES. However, the breathless, fast-paced and rocking opener aside, his set was also largely forgettable, suffering from a general paucity of quality material. It felt as if, in an attempt to distance himself from those knockabout pop Supergrass days and go in a more crafted, widescreen and “mature” direction, he’s lost his mojo somewhat. A shame, but this performance (which also included a turn from Ride drummer Loz Colbert) was certainly a better use of his time and talent than his desperate Hot Rats covers project. Took a break mid-set to check out NIMMO on the Verity Stage, to find a terrible dance outfit, so ‘twas back to Gaz!

 

So, into the early evening and the main stage for US punk icon PATTI SMITH, touring her piece de resistance, the 1975 masterpiece “Horses”, celebrating its’ 40th (!) anniversary. Drawling the opening line, “Jesus died for someone else’s sins… not mine” in her laconic New York tones, she held the biggest crowd of the day captivated throughout, as opening track “Gloria” swept from her shocking lyrical manifesto into galloping primal garage rock, then “Birdland” sprawled, widescreen, epic and fractured as Smith recited the extensive lyrics over this jagged musical base with the aid of a slew of cribsheets, and “Free Money” rocked like an absolute bastard, a galloping fist-pumper.

 

“So, the record “Horses”; that was side “A”, and this is Side “B”” announced Smith thereafter, clearly a fan of vinyl! She allegedly fucked up the intro to the strident “Break It Up” (“I never do anything perfect… I only fuck up perfect!”), but no-one really noticed, and again “Land” sprawled and rocked, taking in vignettes from “Land Of 1,000 Dances” and “Gloria” again. A final “Elegy” (“written 40 years ago… when I was a toddler!”) was a touching tribute to friends lost, and a reverential hush fell as Smith read out their names, a cheer greeting each name (“Joe Strummer…  Joey Ramone… Fred Sonic Smith…”).  Sombre and haunting, yes, yet it seemed totally appropriate that this celebration of one of rock’s classics should acknowledge those who walked alongside Smith on her journey.

 

Glad though I was to have witnessed all of “Horses”, I was eager not to miss a second of my potential highlight, so after “Dancing Barefoot” and an impromptu “Happy Birthday” to her bassist, I cleared off to avoid any possible rush back to the Big Tent, pitching up stage left, 3 rows back for the Tent headliners, due on at 8. SAVAGES, all dressed in black, duly arrived at the witching hour and burst into impossibly dramatic and strident life, vocalist Jehnny Beth remarking, “let’s pick it up where we left it, right?”. Hoo boy, did they ever… opener “City’s Full” was thunderously powerful, Fay Milton pummeling the beat like a muscular blacksmith pounding on a red hot anvil, “Shut Up” was snarling, startling and dramatic, the pseudo Goth guitar licks circling the tent like a conspiracy of ravens, and a clutch of new numbers showed promise and progress, whilst thankfully not straying from Savages’ harsh, jagged post-punk 80’s rock sonic template (one brutal newie featuring some resonant riffery which almost recalled Killing Joke!).

 

But this was all about Jehnny Beth. Prowling the stage, snarling and spitting like a cornered wolverine, wild eyed and scarily intense, she gave an unsettling, threatening yet totally captivating frontperson performance throughout, abandoning the stage to lean into her frenzied and adoring public, challenging them to generate noise and fury (“we’ve just come back from Greece… you need to be louder than them!”). “She Will” (“one you might know…”) was brilliant, their best number being delivered with aplomb, building relentlessly into the crashing, cymbal-led chanting chorus crescendo, Beth hunched over onstage just like Seafood’s David Line used to, during their equally intense “Folk Song Crisis”. A simple but effective message prefaced the lengthy absorbing workout of “Fuckers” (“I know these are hard times and we’ve signed up for another 5 years… but looking at you all, I think we’re going to be alright… don’t let the fuckers get you down!”), then morphed into the all-too-soon set climax, the careering hellride of “Husbands”, the Dead Kennedy-like bass riff propelling the song to a breaktaking climax, bringing the Set Of The Day to a close. Brilliant.

 

I gathered my thoughts and a set-list (yay!) before returning to the main arena for the Main Event… As dusk (and the temperatures!) fell, headliners RIDE were just easing into their set opener, the stretched, loose-limbed and libidinous guitar workout of “Leave Them All Behind”, then into the groovy descending verse of “Like A Daydream” from their sophomore “Play” EP. The subsequent set drew almost exclusively from those youthful spiky early EPs and the first two albums, the heady amphetamine rush and shimmering guitar effects and reverb of “Nowhere” and the more expansive “Going Blank Again”, which saw them as the darlings of a new vanguard of British guitar rock, rather than from the troubled pseudo Britpop of their later work. Give the people what they really want, indeed… Drenched as much in their influences (the effortless cool and widescreen expanse of Echo And The Bunnymen, the smothering reverb dreamscapes of My Bloody Valentine, the juxtaposition of squalling feedback and easy melody of The Jesus And Mary Chain) as in their guitar effects, they were nonetheless a shining star in that early 90’s period, another band who should have been stadium massive back in the day. Still, there’s yet time…

 

Tonight saw them deliver a faultless, professional and perfect sounding performance, a little understated at times but thoroughly absorbing and eminently listenable throughout. “It’s been a great bill; I can’t believe Patti Smith went on earlier [than us]!” remarked vocalist Mark Gardiner before the wah-wah of “Seagull”; “Dreams Burn Down”’s normally powerful crashing drum intro seemed a little understated, but the song ultimately soared to a chiming, plangent crescendo; the splendid jangle of “Taste” (which Gardiner dedicated “to anyone who’s had a tequila slushie today!” and which I almost missed thanks to a pre-emptive loo trip) brought to mind those early 90’s Level 3 nights, and the sinister, spooky march of “Drive Blind” featured a thunderous, drawn out and thrillingly thrashing middle 8, which Andy Bell subsequently announced was, “for the Valentines!”

 

The chiming, echoey opening riff of “Chelsea Girl”, their debut EP’s leadoff track and the scheduled last number, resonated around the arena at 10.20, prior to which Gardiner announced that this was, “the beginning,” of a new phase for Ride, which was good news. During “Chelsea Girl”s noisy JAMC feedback stomp, we moved to the back, getting a jump at the end back to the tube station, then back to the car just before midnight after a relatively smooth cross-town journey, and home for a red-eyed 1.15 am. I think Mark Gardiner put it best, having incredulously remarked, “what a time, what a gig!” and I can only echo that. Good company with Mr. May, at a splendidly organised, generally very friendly (slightly over-zealous security at the entrance notwithstanding) and all inclusive Festival in Field Day, featuring great sets from Ex Hex, Viet Cong, Patti Smith, Ride and my Band Of The Day, Savages. I’d certainly recommend it, and I hope to be back in future. A great (Field) Day out!

159 RIDE, Madamadam, London School Of Ecomonics Student Union (The Quad), Friday 9 March 1990

Got the train with my last-minute replacement gig buddy Roger, as Veronica was ill. Hit the venue, a small student hall lined with pillars and yellow piping, with a "living room" style separate bar. Made recourse to said bar while the supports were on, as they were both crap, Madamadam more so than the unnamed openers.

Oxford's Ride, riding a wave of NME popularity, came on at 10 with a confident swagger, a flourish of buzzsaw guitar and an amphetamine rush of power. Current single, the upbeat "Chelsea Girl", climaxed a set which, while relying on Bunnymen/ Jesus And Mary Chain influences, was jagged, exciting and very worthwhile. Certainly a new guitar band to get excited about, and well worth risking the taxi-mare back to Paddington for, anyway!

162 RIDE, The Charlottes, Bristol Bierkeller, Thursday 12 April 1990

Drove down with Veronica and the Bevans, meeting posse car 2 in the Prince Rupert as usual, then got in for this sell-out gig, actually getting on the pool tables for once and enjoying a few games while support The Charlottes were on. Despite covering Shocking Pink's 60's classic "Venus", they were unimpressive, sub-MBV noisemakers with a token blonde vocalist and not a hint of a tune in their heads.

Down the front for Ride, and that was a big mistake. The reception from this young sell-out crowd bordered on the hysterical, and with no barrier up between audience and stage, we were swept onto the stage by sheer weight of numbers. I climbed over people to get to relative safety, and thankfully the bouncers cleared the stage after one number. The pushing, shoving and overall tension didn't improve, however, and with Ride themselves well below par, delivering a messy set of their normally haunting and strident Bunnymen/ Mary Chain-like buzzsaw guitar rock, it made for a most unenjoyable experience. Bierkeller please note - barriers back for the next time, please?