Snapped Ankles at Citadel Festival

As the giant door of the Jager Haus stage slides back, the remarkable Snapped Ankles emerge as only they can, tree loving warlocks!

Their blend of The Fall and motorik fires and swirls around the small stage with a tenacious flair not seen anywhere else at Citadel. The epic ‘Jonny Guitar Calling Gosta Berling’ rumbles along like the purist of post-punk outsiders.

The vocal on ‘Director’s Nostalgia’ is pure Mark E Smith but, more overwhelming is their sense of Flaming Lips fun. The big riffs roar almost sarcastically which inspire people to dance like no one’s watching and, this, is inherently what Snapped Ankles are all about.

One love: The Stone Roses @ Wembley Stadium

"I'm eating sand when I need air"

Perhaps an understandable mood for London considering its terrorist attacks, the appalling loss of young life in Manchester and the unnecessary tragedy of Grenfell Tower. The concourses were awash with talk of the latter as its blackened state loomed depressingly in the backdrop of this great stadium. 

Thank god then, for four Manchester icons. Superstars to this adoring 90,000 crowd, they still represent everything great about working class people in the UK. With roots firmly in the mid-80s Paisley scene and a peak in the second summer of love, The Stone Roses show just how brilliant working class people can be when they unite with passion and love.

Opening with ‘I Wanna Be Adored’, a huge euphoric release is unleashed the moment Mani snaps out the thumping bass line of this classic. Everyone knows a greatest hits set is coming but, the early appearance of the Mersey-psyche singles ‘Elephant Stone’, ‘Sally Cinnamon’ and Mersey Paradise’ gave a sweltering crowd a brevity so badly needed. Squire’s gliding guitars are exquisite as the spirit of Roger McGuinn echoes around this huge crowd. 

Whilst the Roses have been back in the consciousness for a few years now, the sense that every live gig is something special has not faded.

The Blinders - Camden Assembly, London

The Blinders took to the stage last Friday at the Camden and then, then everything changed.

In three minutes of ICB Blues The Blinders have rendered The Wytches obsolete and made The Horrors classic 'Primary Colours' a footnote. Cabbage might be the frontrunners in the punkadelic scene right now but, make no mistake, The Blinders are its heroes in waiting.

From start to finish, this was more than a gig. It was a piece of art, it was pure drama and exciting as fuck. Frontman Thomas shuffles on stage as if the idea just occurred to him decked out in a John Motson fur coat and black face paint, everything about him screams your new hero. Meanwhile, bass player Charlie, parades around like the offspring of Nick Drake arching his bass at the crowd like Wilko Johnson. This is a band with style and substance.

There is a sense of theatre and poetical beauty despite the mayhem, especially on ‘Swine’. As Thomas decrees ‘I need not to be the man on the street’, a sold out crowd looks on wondering how he has ever been one of us. He is a god.

For 40 minutes tonight, it wasn't about hope or potential, it was about the present. That longing for something heroes to set alternative music lovers is over. Punkadelia has landed in the form of a vomiting, gut wrenching visceral juggernaut from Doncaster.

Sisteray - Camden Assembly, London

Sisteray have been making a lot of good noises with their newly released EP 15minutes and opened a memorable night the Camden Assembly.

The fast and furious ‘Who R Ya?’ opens with it’s Strokes-esque guitars meets the Buzzcocks . It encapsulates everything to love about Sisteray. Every time you have them pegged as a kick ass punk band, guitarist Dan Connolly fires a Pete Townsend via BRMC slice of swirling mayhem.

Social comment is tough get across to live audiences when you’re the second support band. However, with the election looming and frontman Niall Rowan’s charismatic aggression, the Camden crowd are braying for Tory and reality TV blood by the end of this set.

The most poignant moment of the set emerges on ‘Nostalgia Trip’. The QOTSA riot attacks the endless stream of bygone acts hogging the limelight and delivers the line ‘'it's a nostalgia trip I can't afford the ticket', a message not lost on the gig lovers present.

This is a good set with great moments, such as ‘A Wise Man Said’, a furious homage to The Libertines’ ‘Delaney’ or, halcyon rock n roll of ‘White Knuckle Joyride’. Nevertheless, Sisteray seem to have merely scratched the surface of meshing punk, rock n roll and lyrical sniping. This is a journey you must be part of!

British Sea Power: Shepherds Bush Empire, London

BSP’s new album ‘Let The Dancers Inherit The Party’, has reawakened everyone’s love for the 6 piece with its social comment and string of pop anthems. So, this tour surely could not fail.

BSP have always bred a respectful and loyal following, so, unlike most bands 6 albums deep, the new songs were a treat not an excuse for a piss. That said, 6 of the opening 7 being new tracks dimmed the mood after opening with the protest banger ‘Who’s In Control’. The pop prowess of ‘Bad Bohemian’ and the introspective Nick Drake-esque ‘Electrical Kittens’ are destined to remain in the set for a long time.

When BSP get into 5th gear with ‘Lights Out For Darker Skies’ the west London crowd spring into action. Their unique spirit rises to the surface as Martin Noble unleashes his brand of Springsteen meets punk rock.

Conspicuous by their absence are tracks from their classic album ‘Open Season’. The fact that BSP can pull off such a top draw show without classics ‘Please Stand Up’ or ‘It Ended On an Oily Stage’ is a testament to their quality, but what is it a brave step too far?

One note of Abi Fry’s violin on set closer ‘The Great Skua’ gave an emphatic answer of no. The colossal beauty and warmth was enough to think ‘fuck the encore, it’s never topping that'. Perhaps only their early firecracker ‘Carrion’ came close.

One thing is for certain, where there are dancing polar and grizzly bears, there will be a group of indie and punk lovers willing to cherish one of Britain’s best kept secrets.

The Claim at the 100 Club

The illustrious 100 Club played host to the inaugural Medway Weekender. Headlining the first night were The Claim, a genuine hidden treasure from Cliffe in Kent.

They open with the ‘Say So’, a solid reminder of a time when singles could be a blend of infectious and thought-provoking melodies. ‘Do You Still Feel’ furthers this notion, the Roses style drums are met with a withdrawn Boo Radleys-esque vocal during the verses. They serve as a perfect precursor to a rousing chorus and irresistible guitar part.

Closing the set was the classic ‘Sporting Life’. The guitars are as sharp as ever on this paisley gem. The contrast of the high and low guitar parts is a thing of beauty. It builds the tension expertly in this tale of gambling woe and then, as all hope is seemingly burned, comes the lightest of jingle jangle touches.  

What remains apparent, is without frontman David Read, there never would have been an audience for so many beloved alternative singers. He has a great nous of creating something truly interesting within a great guitar melody. Where Ian Brown and Mark Morriss were going for pop nirvana, Read straddles that line of underground/overground like The Simpsons did for its initial 8 seasons with aplomb.

How long The Claim will be back for remains unknown, but this was a special night with a special band so, here’s hoping for a lot more.

Steve Mason: The Barbican, London

Scotland’s finest singer (FACT) brought an extraordinary show to London’s Barbican Centre. Accompanied by arranger and conductor Joe Duddell, a string and brass section, two drummers, a percussionist and pianists, this was something truly remarkable.

Mason’s ability to blend folk, psyche, electronica in to alternative pop music is feat everyone should see live. However, the first part of the second half saw Mason’s angelic vocals twinned with just the orchestra. This, particularly on ‘Boys Outside’, brought out a purity in the song not heard before which, is remarkable as it details his former demons.

Throughout the set, Mason revisited his Beta Band days and rightly decries “I’m extremely proud of all the work”. There is a strong feeling that Mason is enjoying these postcards from his younger self as much as the audience.

‘Dry The Rain’ brought a respectfully sat crowd to its feet and to the Barbican's aisles in many cases. The orchestra shined brightest on this classic, as the song builds and loops over and over, the true spirit of this song encapsulated the room.

Mason though, is not someone that needs to rely on his early days to lift a crowd. ‘Alive’ and ‘Planet Sizes’ go down as well, if not better than anything from his past. On this kind of form, Mason has to be considered for big festival slots this summer. 

Cabbage: Old Blue Last, London

For 20 minutes of this 30 minute set, Cabbage are the best band on the planet.

They open with 'Uber Capitalist Death Trade' and hone the ramshackle beauty of The Libertines via the oddball genius of the Happy Mondays.

With barely time to draw breath, they launch into ‘Kevin’ cause everyone to question everything they know about music. A pulsating channeling of The Sonics via Bo Ningen provides a superbly violent anthem for this small but adoring set of fans.

Some light relief comes in the form of the decadent 'Fickle'. It strides drunkenly wherever the fuck it wants before a warped guitar solo chimes out like an acid ridden four minute warning siren.

Closing the show out are ‘Necroflat In The Place’ and ‘Free Steve Avery (Wrong America)’. The intensity remains, but, the quality dips ever so slightly as the peculiarities of ‘Kevin’ fade. What you are left with, is another dose of Palma Violets or Libertines b-sides. To be clear, they are matching their quality, no mean feat!

Cabbage, at their best tonight, are setting the agenda and blowing all their peers away. Be sure to be on their tour in the New Year.

Farewell to The Enemy

Ten years have passed since Coventry's three-piece The Enemy rolled into town. They were a rare working-class voice in British rock music and Friday witnessed their last-ever London gig at The Forum. Although, from the riotous atmosphere, you’d think it was a band on the brink of the big time.

Nobody left Kentish Town without losing a stone in sweat and jaded vocal cords. It’s what all gigs aspire to be. For anyone who reads TT regularly, sentences such as “why are Radio X and BBC6 not playing this” feature regularly. A sentiment echoed by frontman Tom Clarke on stage as to why they are splitting up.

It’s a cast-iron fact that their debut album is a classic. This should have given them the right for their singles to be a-listed when they returned for the second album. But the indie bubble of the time burst because major labels were destroying it with Scouting For Girls and the fucking Hoosiers, so they deemed The Enemy irrelevant. The presence of these tuneless gutless witless fucktards made the band more vital than ever. Clark’s venom and lyrical insights were needed to uphold a generation of indie fans who were about to be left behind.

Already the UK is a poorer musical landscape without them. As much as we love Frank Turner and The Vaccines, their middle-class and private school backgrounds can never write a song like ‘You’re Not Alone’ or ‘Be Somebody’.  Let’s hope Nicky Wire never gets bored of music!

The night itself was a joyous send-off for the band and its fans alike. The crowd was bang up for it from the moment the DJ played ‘Parklife’ 30mnis before they came on. Any opportunity to sing “now this song is about you” in-between songs was gladly taken, especially in the tube station and, for some, all the way to Bank.

The chink of light for fans should be Paul Weller. His varying and consistently high career since The Jam split will hopefully provide the inspiration for Tom to carry on in some guise.

So. Farewell to Tom, Liam, Andy, and everyone I’ve shared a sweat-filled room with since 2006. You’re not alone!

States Of Emotion live @ The Underworld

States Of Emotion in large, played to a packed audience of loyal hometown followers from Essex at the Underworld. It’s a poignant moment for the band, their debut album has finally been released and based on this showing, they are set to far outrun their roots in terms of fans.

They open with the defiant ‘I Broke The Mould’ and the intimate venue suddenly feels like a big academy venue. It’s clear to see why Huw Stevens and John Kennedy are championing this single.

Defiance is key to States Of Emotion as a band and this gig. Crowd favourites ‘The Way That I’m Wired’ and ‘The Unsung’ are thrill seeking and recalcitrant to the core. They also offer a sense of ambition which, many profess but few deliver in the indie world.

Amid the anthems comes a resounding gear change with ‘Rag n Bone Men’. This diversion combines a more desolate electronic sound with some more familiar psyche guitar parts. A tough sell amongst fine indie bangers but, from the moment frontman Olly Hookings laments his former label Rinse FM, a sense of anticipation is in the air. The slow building number hits a heavenly crescendo and the audience are eating out the palm of his hands.

The desire to make this succeed is bursting from States Of Emotion so much during this gig it seems almost impossible not to imagine bigger venues awaiting them in the future.