ROGER DALTREY AND FRIENDS for the TEENAGE CANCER TRUST

“This country's in a weird, feeble, grotesque state and it's about time it got out of it. And the reason it could get out of it is rock music! And I think that Pete Townshend, The Who, Roger Daltrey, Entwistle, Moon, could rise this country out of its decadent, ambient state more than Wilson and those crappy people could ever hope to achieve!”
Ken Russell talking to Russell Harty, 27 March 1975.

Bless old Ken. I don’t think many people still entertain the idea that rock music can change the country but credit to Roger Daltrey for trying to make a difference with his long-standing patronage of the Teenage Cancer Trust and his efforts in pulling together his annual fundraising gigs at the Royal Albert Hall. The trust, which receives no government funding, build specialist units within NHS hospitals to provide care and an environment designed to give teenagers the best chance of a positive outcome. The money raised by the TCT gigs, like the one on Wednesday, goes some way to change the lives of teenagers like Andrew, who shared his experiences on the big screen, and Jen and Katie there in person, on stage, to “celebrate their survival”. All three are inspiring young people and you'd need a heart of stone to not be moved by their stories and courage.

The night was billed as An Evening With Roger Daltrey, Paul Weller and Kelly Jones. There were guests. Some were special. Mostly they were Roger’s mates helping him out, and for that, I’ll ease off any heavy critique of the night. The help in financial and publicity terms given to TCT far outweighs any pithy comments I might usually make.

Roger began by playing a couple of folk tunes backed by fiddlers and an accordionist. Paul Freeman (no idea) played what he told us was his new single. Kelly Jones played what I assume were three or four Stereophonics songs backed by a string quartet, before bringing out Paul Weller to play keyboards and Ronnie Wood to play guitar on “Don’t Let Me Down” and “Ooh La La”.

Weller’s own set was next and I was looking for him to inject some life into proceeding but rather than strutting around sonically kicking he sat with four other geezers on stools playing guitars. They looked like a mod Westlife. “English Rose” was nice to hear and the arrangement of “All I Wanna Do” worked well, but even just seven songs dragged a bit for me.

After a beer and bog break Roger returned for “Who Are You”, a ropey “Kids Are Alright” and a decent “Behind Blue Eyes”, before making way for Amy MacDonald to sing three songs. She in turn made way for Steve Winwood who played “Higher Love” before a barnstorming “Gimme Some Lovin’”. Stevie's still got his pipes and pulverised the Hammond like a good un; unquestionably the highlight to that point.

Roger was then back for good and with his voice warmed up threw himself into an extended set of mainly Who classics beginning with “Pinball Wizard” and including “Won’t Get Fooled Again”, “I Can See For Miles” and a brilliant – and I mean brilliant - version of “Young Man Blues”, complete with his customary demonstration in the art of microphone swinging. I can’t think of many “rock stars” as likeable as Roger Daltrey. He cuts through any bullshit, has a lack of pretension, and comes across as sincere and passionate without preaching or sounding condescending. Quite how he’s managed fifty years with Pete Townshend…

After over three and a half hours, the show closed with Roger, a ukulele, and one of Townshend’s forgotten gems, “Blue, Red and Grey” from The Who By Numbers. I’ve seen Roger do this before but, under the circumstances, hearing him sing about liking every minute of the day was especially poignant and a lump-in-the-throat choice to end the evening.

To find out more about the Teenage Cancer Trust or to donate, click here.

SUEDE - ANIMAL NITRATE

Further to the Suede review the other day, here's some very good YouTube footage from the gig. Enjoy Brett's flamenco style handclaps near the end.

THE WHO at the ROYAL ALBERT HALL

The Who played the album Quadrophenia. Start to finish. It had its good parts and its bad parts. If writing a full review the bad parts would outweigh the good which would give a negative spin on what was an enjoyable enough show. Townshend’s theatrical impulses have stood the band in good stead over the years but rather than simply play the tracks his insistence (I’m assuming it was his rather than Daltrey’s) on showing a video narration between songs by a modern “Jimmy” was an unwelcome distraction and spoilt the flow of the music. (I'm showing my age there, it's probably not "video" at all, more like a hi-definition multi media wall screen enhancement facility). The odd growl aside, Townshend was in good voice but would it be cynical to suggest that Eddie Vedder only comes on to hit the notes Daltrey can’t?

The primary purpose was to raise funds for the Teenage Cancer Trust so it’s churlish of me to pick too many holes. And far be it for me to rattle anyone’s tins but if you fancy donating you can do so here. Or any other cancer charity of your choice. There can’t be many of us who haven’t been, and still are, affected in some way. Speech over.

One benefit of donating from the comfort of your laptop is you won’t need to endure the embarrassing sight of the geezer from Kasabian playing the Ace Face with all the style and grace of a wooden X-Factor contestant on “60s Night” giving it some attitude.

SUEDE at the ROYAL ALBERT HALL

As sensational returns go, this one pretty much took the biscuit, the plate, and the whole flipping table. Seven years since their last gigs and Brett and co were reunited for a Teenage Cancer Trust gig. Those who thought the band might treat this as a gentle lap of honour for old time’s sake were given a furious wake-up call as they tore through their catalogue with such electrifying urgency that it caused poor old Roger Daltrey to complain it was too loud!

Brett Anderson was in incredible shape (I had to put Mrs Monkey’s tongue back in her head), performing as if his life and legacy were riding on this one show. After seeing his recent chilled solo gigs, and recalling the early bum and thigh slapping Suede gigs of 1992, he was a revelation: kicking, jumping, twirling, whirling, shaking, leaping, dancing, throwing himself into the crowd and singing – yes, actually singing - his skinny frame out; this was a master class in frontman-ery that didn’t let up for the full 21 song set.

The energy levels of the first five songs alone (“She”, “Trash”, “Filmstar”, “Animal Nitrate”, “Heroine”) were cranked up so high I was glad for a breather with the welcome surprise of “Pantomime Horse”. That set the tone for the rest of the night: plenty of glorious hits mixed with b-side oddities and album favourites, mostly taken from the lifespan of the first three albums and ignoring the patchier final two. “Killing of a Flashboy” sat next to “The Drowners” with the crowd giving both an equally delirious reception. With seldom more than two seconds between songs there was little time for chat or to catch breath but after an explosive “Metal Mickey” a spontaneous two minute ovation gathered momentum as a grinning Anderson allowed himself to bask in the adoration before they continued apace.

Other honourable mentions to a beautiful “Asphalt World” and Anderson dedicating “He’s Gone” to his recently deceased friend and giving it a suitably dramatic, on-the-knees, delivery. “New Generation” was great too, so was “Can’t Get Enough”, hell, it all was. It was simply one of those unforgettable nights.

“It’s been fun. See you again in another seven years”. Whether it is sooner, we’ll see. The ethereal and pastoral nature of Anderson’s recent albums makes me wonder if there’s enough urban Suedeness left in his bones to produce a worthwhile new album so occasional reminders like this might have to suffice. Suede always meant more than most bands in that early 90s, pre-Brit Pop period, with only the Manics as peers. The pair definitely did a few things to this young man’s head. Incredibly, nearly twenty years later, they’ve shown they still mean so much and might just have played their finest gig, and I might just have run out of superlatives.