THE PRIMITIVES at the 100 CLUB, LONDON

Tracy Tracy is, unusually, perched on a stool singing a three-song interlude as the Primitives drop a gear from their usual high speed throttle. “And I'll be there just with my eyes, And that’s the way it is, And I don't want anything to change.”

‘Don’t Want Anything To Change’, featured on the Prims breakthrough LP, Lovely, being commemorated with a series of shows to mark its 30^th anniversary. Unlike five years ago in the same venue, it’s not being played beginning-to-end in its entirety, but most of the tracks get an airing, taking up roughly half the set.

Some things have changed, like the introduction of a mid-set sit-down, but not many. They rattle through, they hit a groove, there’s a roughness that echoes their pre-major label success and the rusty chainsaw scuzz of their early indie days. I’d love to say I saw them playing to ten grebos and a dog in Coventry flophouse, flogging singles out the boot of a car, but that’s not the case. They were already at their commercial peak when I first saw them, selling 3000 tickets for two nights at London’s Town and Country Club at the end of ’87. 

My main memory of that night, apart from me impersonating a leaping salmon at the front of the stage to ‘Spacehead’ and ‘Nothing Left’, is those eyes Tracy sings about. She didn’t move about all that much, an opening of a hand, a bend of the knees, but would seduce the audience with a look. Lure them in, then chew them up and spit them out like a bad taste. 

As a teenager then, the thought of still seeing the Prims 30 years later would’ve seemed ridiculous. Can you imagine how shit they’d be? Bunch of embarrassing old codgers. Yet, mercifully, they’ve retained their sense of style and haven’t forgotten what made them so great in the first place: tasty sweet and sour pop nuggets. 

Tracy’s a far friendly proposition these days and a more confident performer. All eyes remain on her as she spins and sashays around the stage. Forever the star, in a glittering dress so dazzling drummer Tig requires sunglasses as he cracks the snare with increasing ferocity to the opening gunshots of ‘Sick of It’. “Don't say you're having fun, There's no fire in your sun, There's nothing here that is real, Nothing that I'd stay here for, Nothing I'd like to steal, And I'm sick of it all,” she sings.

Au contraire Tracy, au contraire mon petits pois… We are most certainly having fun, mon petits pois. With each song the decibel level of audience reaction moves up a notch to near frenzy level. I’ve seen many Primitives shows since their 2009 reunion but tonight’s atmosphere is extra special. Even Tracy confesses to being emotional. Not only are favourites from Lovely greeted as old returning heroes but recent releases - the dizzying, sped-up Monkees-style ‘Petals’ and the barnstorming ‘I’ll Trust The Wind’ – are embraced with the same passionate response. The Primitives, and their followers, remember the past but aren't stuck there, they celebrate the now. 

'Crash' will forever be The Biggie. In 'Crash', so the song goes, people aren't listening anymore, they've had enough to last a lifetime through. None of those folks are in the 100 Club.  

EPILOGUE

One additional thing that made the night for me was the opportunity to play some 45s around The Primitives and support band Young Romance (who’ve taken up the mantle of fuzzy and snappy two-minute hook laden pop tunes, check out their fab single ‘Pale’). Huge thanks to the Prims and promotors AGMP and all those who kindly took the trouble to say hello, say nice things and ask for great records (none of which I had with me but demonstrated fine taste…). Here’s the list for those who like lists…

Comet Gain – An Arcade From The Warm Rain That Falls
Huggy Bear – Her Jazz

The Liminanas – Garden of Love

Psychic TV – Godstar

Rolling Stones – Dandelion

Jim Doval & the Gauchos – Mama Keep Your Big Mouth Shut

The Duals – Shift Stick

Richard Berry& the Pharaohs – Have Love Will Travel

The Stooges – Down On The Street

Primal Scream – Ivy Ivy Ivy

Birdland – Hollow Heart

Shop Assistants – Safety Net

Buzzcocks – Promises

The Velvet Underground – Foggy Notion

Young Romance

The Arrows – Blues Theme

Mouse & The Traps – Cryin’ Inside

The Byrds – Feel A Whole Lot Better

Brenda Lee – What’d I Say

The Shirelles – Boys

Shadows of Knight – Shake

Ann-Margret – It’s A Nice World To Visit (But Not To Live In)

Little Ann – Who Are You Trying To Fool

Big Maybelle – 96 Tears

Ann Sexton – You’ve Been Gone Too Long

Madeline Bell – Don’t Cross Over To My Side of the Street

Julie Driscoll, Brian Auger & the Trinity – A Kind of Love In

The Kinks – She’s Got Everything

Love – 7 and 7 Is

The Lornettes – Something To Remember Me By

The Marvelettes – Locking Up My Heart

The Marvelettes – I’ll Keep Holding On

The Primitives

Ramones – I Don’t’ Care

Johnny Thunders & the Heartbreakers – Chinese Rocks

Hollywood Brats – Sick On You

13^th Floor Elevators – You’re Gonna Miss Me

Hamilton Streetcar – Invisible People

The Left Banke – I Haven’t Got The Nerve

The Who – Dogs

Billy Young – Glendora

Dee Dee Sharp – Deep Dark Secret

Gloria Grey – It’s A Sweet World

Martha & the Vandellas – In My Lonely Room

The Choir – It’s Cold Outside

Mark Markham & the Jesters – Marlboro Country

The Masters Apprentices – War or Hands of Time

The Stairs – Flying Machine

Felt – Rain of Crystal Spires

THE TRUTH at the 100 CLUB, LONDON

With a face like a bowl of mixed fruit Dennis Greaves was few teenager’s idea of a pop star but in 1983 there he was, kicking balloons skyward on Top of the Pops and splashed across the pages of Smash Hits as The Truth infiltrated the charts with their first two singles, ‘Confusion (Hits Us Every Time)’ and ‘A Step In The Right Direction’.

In the summer of ‘83 The Truth played an under-16s matinee show at the Marquee on Wardour Street. It was the first gig I ever attended. Not only was it a great gig, with the band giving it everything they had even though they had a ‘grown up’ show to do after, but the way they mingled and signed autographs for us kids beforehand left a lasting impression.

Despite Greaves’ claim “You won’t find our audience wearing parkas or Jam shoes” that’s precisely what you would have found them wearing. With a following born from the cooling ashes of the mod revival or, as I like to think of it, the lit match of a new post-Jam modernist movement, The Truth found favour with a young fan base searching for a fresh band to pin to their lapels. Ill plead not guilty to the parka, guilty to the Jam shoes.

After that initial success, they unfortunately released the limp ‘No Stone Unturned’, deservedly a flop in ‘84. Dropped from their label, increasingly keen to distance themselves from anything mod, they lost their way and their audience. By the time debut album, Playground, was released in ’85 it was too little, too late. The production was flat, there was no spark, the songs sounded tired and the bright happy faces of their early days had given way to the dark, cold, miserable looking scowls that adorned an uninviting album sleeve. Things then got really shit but let’s not go there.

Instead, let’s go back to 1984 and the second gig I ever went to, The Truth at the 100 Club on the night they recorded their Five Live EP, with a new rhythm section and where, a mere 33 years later, the band returned at the weekend. It’s a risky business, this nostalgia. Some things are best left in the past, memories intact, untainted by retrospective analysis, but this was reaffirmed everything I felt as boy. I didn’t get everything right but The Truth were, then and now, superb.

Their live shows always far outshone their records and they’d lost none of it. Swirling, snappy, bobbing and weaving Brit-Soul played from the heart. I’d love a new band like this to exist now. The Truth didn’t studiously examine Motown records and attempt to recreate them in sterile, laboratory-like conditions; they had a crack at them – both through covers and originals – in their own style, infusing them with vibrancy and earthy, geezerish charm; their frequent call and response exchanges less Detroit church and more London terrace.

The set was strikingly similar to those old shows – ‘From The Heart’, ‘Exception of Love’, ‘Second Time Lucky’, ‘Nothing’s Too Good For My Baby’, ‘Is There A Solution’, with a few later additions such as ‘Playground’ and ‘Spread A Little Sunshine’ thrown in. Plus the hits of course. No new songs. Dennis Greaves and Mick Lister led from the front, trading harmonies, keeping energy levels high, keen on audience participation. ‘I’m In Tune’, ‘Ain’t Nothing But A Houseparty’, ‘I Just Can’t Seem To Stop’, and ‘Reach Out, I’ll Be There’ were always big frenzied favourites but the more measured ‘You Play With My Emotions’ was stunning. Perhaps because it wasn’t one to jump around to I’d never fully appreciated how good that song is, real depth, and Dennis’s vocals packing a mighty punch.

The audience were less exuberant than 30-something years ago but despite not leaping around in a seething mass of sweaty teenage boys I enjoyed this just as much as I did as a pizza-faced 15-year-old in Jam shoes.  

BETTY HARRIS at the 100 CLUB, LONDON

“It’s taken a long time, a real long time, but we made it.” When Betty Harris retired from performing in 1970 she could have had no inkling nearly 50 years later she’d be headlining a sell-out London show.

Buoyed by the upturn in interest since last year’s Soul Jazz Records’ The Lost Queen of New Orleans Soul, which gathered 17 tracks issued between 1965 and 1969 for Sansu under the direction of the legendary Allen Toussaint, Betty was afforded one of those hero receptions UK soul audiences are renown for.

As that collection showed, Betty was equally adept at R&B dancers, soul ballads and the lolloping New Orleans rhythms intrinsic to music from Louisiana’s Crescent City. Although despite Soul Jazz’s crown, Betty was not from nor ever lived in New Orleans, she was flown in from Florida to record. But that's splitting a beignet.

Shaky opening numbers ‘Mean Man’ and ’12 Red Roses’ indicated this might be a gig where fans were simply glad to be in the rare presence of someone whose records they’ve enjoyed over the years. As Betty told us, these were songs she recorded when she was 19-20 (born in 1939 she was older but you didn't hear that from me) and hasn’t sung some since, but come the third song, a rollicking ‘I Don’t Wanna Hear It’, Betty loosened up, that soulful rasp was to the fore, and we were cooking from there on in.

Backed by the Disposable Breaks, doing their best attempt at hitting the funk of the Meters, ‘Trouble With My Lover’, ‘Bad Luck’ and ‘Close To Me’ caught a groove and Betty’s slower take on Solomon Burke’s ‘Cry To Me’ – the closest she came to a real hit in 1963 – carried real emotion and experience.

Whilst fans were there to give something back, Betty, resplendent in glamourous gown and wearing her best hair, also had her own giving to do. Of her three backing singers, two were young teenage girls who’d not had the best start in life but had been offered a chance to come to the UK and sing. Betty acknowledged they found her intimidating but countered nobody was there to help guide her early in her career. Apologies for not catching the girls’ names but they should be proud of the job they did especially when handed the entire lead for ‘Can’t Last Much Longer’. The baton was passed.

Few people recorded a better version of ‘Ride Your Pony’ and after that irresistible mover Betty was brought back for a well-earned encore with the heavy funk bomb ‘There’s A Break In The Road’.

A cackling, engaging presence throughout, it was a joy to spend an hour in Betty’s company and this gig was everything, if not more, anyone could’ve hoped for. Betty was correct, it did take a long time but she made it.

FRENCH BOUTIK at the 100 CLUB, LONDON

I like French Boutik. I like how the title of their album, Front Pop, references forward-thinking popular culture and the Front Populaire movement of the 1930s where an alliance of French workers fought for basic rights.  That combination of toe tapping melodies and socio-political comment informs their music, not that I can understand it as I don’t speak French but that’s not the point, is it comrades?

I like how French Boutik sing in French - it’s authentic and natural – rather than a second tongue, it strikes me as uncompromising and, frankly, the right thing to do, unlike so many others. Be yourself, be true.

I like that French Boutik are Mods and my sort of Mods. Mods who look good, dress well, know what’s what and don’t make me flinch from the term. They make Mod appear like a cool thing, which it always should but seldom does these days. They are the only current band I can think of who do Mod well. They aren’t a clichéd Mod band or, if you prefer, band of Mods.

I like how French Boutik’s music has undercurrents of soul and jazz but doesn’t actually sound like either. There’s a 60s grasp of strong melodies, elements of 70s new wave fleck their songs, as does 90s Britpop, and sandwiched between is a clean 80s sheen which, probably unintentionally but not unpleasantly, recall early Everything But The Girl, and Swing Out Sister (no bad thing at all, in case there’s any doubt, Kaleidoscope World is a splendid LP) plus the first couple of Style Council albums.

I like how French Boutik look happy on stage at the 100 Club, relishing the moment, and the way they shoot each other looks and smile knowingly when they’ve just nailed a part of a tune. I like how as a support act they make their set feel like the headline slot. People who’ve come specially to see them and those who’ve never heard of them before are in unison: they’re an enjoyable band. They drink red wine on stage.

I like how French Boutik are spilt along gender lines and have a girl on drums who hardly breaks into a sweat. Horses sweat, gentlemen perspire and ladies gently glow, as my Granpop always used to say.

I like that the vinyl edition of French Boutik’s LP comes with an inner sleeve with lyrics and even a double-sided colour poster. Posters are proper pop group material. It’s a proper pop record.

I like French Boutik. I like them a lot.

Front Pop by French Boutik is out now on LP and CD.

THE SCENE UNSEEN - THE 100 CLUB, THURSDAY 7 NOVEMBER 1985

Andy Welsh, The Scene, 100 Club, 7 Nov '85

As 1.9 billion people turned on their television set on a sweltering Saturday afternoon on 13 July 1985 to watch Status Quo followed by the Style Council kick off Live Aid at Wembley Stadium, two hundred Mod kids were filtering their way into an upstairs room above a north London pub, grandly called the Savoy Ballroom, to watch - in a parallel universe, pointedly oblivious to what else was going on in the world - four of their bands. In order: The Wayout, The Moment, The Combine, and headliners and main attraction, The Scene.

Seeing how well the recent piece about The Rage and the mid-80s Mod scene was received, and in anticipation for this Friday's gig at the 100 Club, today we'll cast our minds back to remember The Scene.

Proud East Londoners with an adopted northerner (that's proper North: Hull) they cut a three singles - "Looking For Love", "Something That You Said" and a cover of "Good Lovin'". The finest 45 - and one of the best of the era - being the harmony driven pop-art splash "Something That You Said" backed with "Stop-Go", their paean to amphetamines, "Now I've got such a taste for... speed".

In an era when groups were cagey about being too closely associated with the dreaded "M" word, The Scene proudly proclaimed to the national music press, "We are the only Mod band". Which was one sure fire way of sacrificing any chance of greater success but endearing them greatly to their fellow brethren.

I saw them many times and loved their gigs; somehow they tied a jangle, that shook rather than jingled, to big Who powerchords and smashed guitars. You knew the guitar destruction was coming when Gary Wood put down his red Rickenbacker and picked up something less precious to bash through a set closer. The song which has stuck in my head most firmly all these years has been "Is She In Love (With Love)" which rather bizarrely and untypically sounds a bit like The Smiths. Me and my mates would come back from gigs singing that one on the tube journey home even though it took about 25 years to hear a recorded version, finally turning up on an album of Scene tracks and those of their previous incarnation, OO7, entitled Landscapes. 

These photos were taken at the 100 Club on 7 November '85. As you can read from my teenage scrawl below (you think I'm a bit anal about documenting things now, you should've seen me as a kid) it wasn't the most well attended gig and the next month Sounds announced the band would spilt after two years of "urgency, excitement, smashed guitars and a mountain of unpaid debts" which sounded very rock and roll.

Their farewell gig was another Saturday afternoon slot back in Tufnell Park on 22 February 1986. This one was packed, a great show, and saw excited kids invading the stage. With The Scene disappearing, the rest of the scene wasn't too far behind.

Reformed in 2010 with the full line-up intact, the band have a new EP due later this year and perform with The Rage at the 100 Club, Oxford Street, London this Friday 23rd January 2015. 

Gary Wood, The Scene, 7 Nov '85

Russell Wood, The Scene, 7 Nov '85

Andy Orr, The Scene, 7 Nov '85

Monkey Picks 1985 style

THE RAGE - THE MOD SUPERGROUP OF 1985 (AKA MY MOD STORY '84-'86)

Derwent, The Rage, 100 Club, 8 January 1985

Steve Moran, The Rage, 100 Club, 8 January 1985

As 1984 gave way to 1985 a "Mod supergroup" appeared on the scene and looked destined to lead the charge of the latest generation of Mod bands (or, to be more accurate, bands liked by Mods) springing up. The Rage featured Derwent Jaconelli (ex-Long Tall Shorty) who'd swapped his drumsticks for a microphone, Jeff Shadbolt (ex-Purple Hearts) on bass, Buddy Ascot (ex-The Chords) on drums and Steve Moran (ex-Long Tall Shorty) on guitar. On Friday 23rd January 2015 the band will celebrate with a 30th anniversary reunion gig - their first UK date in 25 years - at the 100 Club on Oxford Street.

Their first gig took place at the 100 Club on 18 December 1984 supporting a reformed Purple Hearts. Myself and school friends Clive and Jamie went along even though none of us were massive fans of the Purple Hearts (we had one of their records between us) but we'd recently started to go to gigs and this felt like a big deal in Mod circles so we were duty bound to go. Thank goodness we did. From the opening chords of The Rage's set the crowd went bananas. It's almost unbelievable now when I think of it. Here was a band nobody had heard before, playing songs nobody knew (apart from a few covers), and yet the atmosphere was akin to celebrating a last minute winner in a London derby. The energy from the band - and from Derwent in particular; like a bull in a china shop - translated to the crowd instantly and we leapt around and bundled into each other throughout every big ballsy song. It was love at first sight. So much so, one girl jumped on stage and whipped off her top and bra.

Us three kids sat crashed at the back of the club, on the floor, leaning against the wall; Cavern sta-press, Fred Perry jumpers, flight jackets drenched in sweat as we scrabbled together enough money for a drink to cool down. The Purple Hearts did their thing and we enjoyed them but they were from a different era and we felt a little separate from them. All we could talk about after was The Rage.

A few weeks later, 8 January 1985, The Rage were back at the 100 Club for a gig with Makin' Time. I didn't take my camera out very often as it was too bulky to fit in my pocket but made an exception occasionally and this was one of those times as you can see for the rubbishy photos above. Makin' Time, with their instantly snappy rhythm and soul, were good and throughout 1985 got better and better, culminating in their debut album and some incredible gigs during the summer. How "Here Is My Number" didn't make the charts to see them kicking balloons on Top Of The Pops is one of the great mysteries of the hit parade. Anyway, back to The Rage and they followed on where they left off in December, only this time TWO girls paraded their goods as the band knocked seven shades of shit out of "Shout". I was fifteen years old, in a famous rock and roll venue in the West End, watching a loud band nobody outside our little clique knew about, and stood open-mouthed as two half-naked girls shook their tuppennies in my direction. School was becoming less interesting by the day.

What made all this extra exciting was this was a brand new band and we were there from the beginning. Rather than being reliant on fans from their previous bands, The Rage supporters by and large were coming to them for who they were now rather than who'd they'd been. There was a keenness to follow them and see them play whenever possible, which was regularly. The 100 Club put them on almost monthly, including a support slot to Spencer Davis and Brian Auger which was an odd evening of generation clashes. The music press (especially Sounds which was supportive of the Mod scene at the time) were giving coverage and their own songs "Looking For You", "Temptation Into Temptation", "The Face", "Come On Now", "Our Soul" soon became familiar anthems. They hadn't released any records but it surely, we thought, wouldn't be long before we had something to play at home. We were half right.

One Saturday afternoon during a trip up to Carnaby Street I was in The Merc looking at the latest records and modzines. When I say "looking at", I mean this literally. Jimmy in The Merc had tantalising goods (The Action, Creation and Artwoods Edsel LPs for a start) on a display rack but erected a chrome crash barrier in front of them, leaving everything out of reach from prying hands. Young Mods would stand in front of the barrier and sheepishly ask this old geezer, "Please Jimmy, can I look at issue twelve of In The Crowd?" Jimmy didn't speak much English but understood money, would grin, nod, and gently pass it to you, under the tacit understanding that once touched, you were obliged to buy. I ended up with a stack of scruffily produced modzines as a result. On this particular day the music playing in the shop was a tape of the Rage at the 100 Club. I recognised it straight away. Jimmy said he'd be selling copies next week. Fantastic news. The following week they weren't ready. "Come back next week". I went back. Not ready. "Next week, sorry". Went back again. And again. After about six weeks Jimmy finally had the tapes. It was expensive and sounded like it was recorded from the back of the room inside a sports bag hidden under a pile of parkas then put onto the cheapest, poorest quality cassette money could buy. I doubt the band knew about it but it did the job for a while until the inevitable happened and the tape broke, all twisted and tangled inside the player, unable to be repaired. 

Despite our support, The Rage, wisely, were keen to avoid the "Mod supergroup" term, knowing the prejudices held against being associated with such an unlovable species. It was a balancing act for many that year: keeping the mod scene on side without alienating them or, probably more importantly, the rest of the world thus reducing the band's potential audience and income. As Jeff Shadbolt told Garry Bushell in Sounds: "We could say 'yeah, we're a Mod supergroup' and take the Mods' money. But that's not what we want - we want everyone's money!" Thirty years on I doubt they mind the tag.

For most of '85 everything looked rosy but they lost their impetuous with their failure to release any records. They were rightly ambitious and out for a suitable deal. Ascot and Shadbolt already knew some pitfalls of the music industry from their previous experiences and the band were taken under the wing of John Weller who wouldn't have held back with an opinion. The newly formed Countdown Records signed The Untouchables and Makin' Time, and to likes of me, ignorant to the Machiavellian workings of the music business, that would've made a suitable home for The Rage. It's interesting now to reflect on Derwent's words from July '85 when I wrote to him about the possibility: "The deal was shit, bad organisation of the whole label. We have no faith in the long term future of the label." In September it was revealed The Prisoners did sign to Countdown, and we all now know the ramifications of those inky signatures.

By November, weekly Mod newspaper The Phoenix List reported the latest Rage 100 Club gig attracted only 83 people, a far cry from the beginning of the year. I didn't go. Those later gigs weren't helped by no longer appeared with bands Mods wanted to see, so it became a less attractive proposal, especially for a band, as I've said, with no records to give them a boost. It's also worth adding The Rage weren't the only band experiencing a drop off in attendances at the 100 Club; the venue had milked the better bands dry, spread them too thin, and things were moving on fast anyway. 

That elusive record, a single, finally surfaced in well into 1986 on the tiny independent, Diamond, who'd hoovered up many Mod and 60s style bands during the past couple of years. As well as being too little, too late, and feeling after all that promise something of a defeat to sign to Diamond when they could've done that a year previously, it in no way represented the thump, the power, the rebel rousing stomp of The Rage as a live band. "Looking For You", their sole release, had a limp and weedy sound. Even now I can't understand why it sounds more like The Style Council rehearsing "Headstart For Happiness" than The Clash assaulting "Tommy Gun". It doesn't do them justice. But by then, even I wasn't listening. 

The last gig Rage gig I saw was on 9th August '86 at the Hammersmith Clarendon, again with Makin' Time. Clive and Jamie had long since bailed out of the Mod scene so I went with Sue, who was the only "Modette" (it was acceptable to use the term then) within miles of where I lived. I can't recall much other than wearing a red Harrington and red socks, and that I definitely didn't see any boobs that night. 

Things changed dramatically for the Mod scene throughout 1986. People dropped off the scene like flies and found new interests; all the best bands split and that chapter was over, but in 1985 - when we'd go out every week to see either Makin' Time, The Scene, The Prisoners, The Untouchables, The Moment, Direct Hits etc - for that glorious year, The Rage were indeed, for a while at least, all the rage.  

The Rage and The Scene appear at the 100 Club on Friday 23rd January 2015. Tickets available here. Both bands - and all the Mod bands mentioned in this article - also feature on the new 4-CD box set Millions Like Us - The Story of the Mod Revival 1977-1989, released by Cherry Red Records. 

Fay Hallam, Makin' Time, 100 Club, 8th January 1985

MANIC STREET PREACHERS at the 100 CLUB

The fierce ambition of the Manic Street Preachers is such that they’ve never shied from working with The Man. When they moved from small independent Heavenly to Columbia Records in 1991 and happily posed signing to the suits they faced howls of indignation and cries of “sell out”. Their goal was to shift seventeen million albums and if that meant signing to a major and talking to Nobby The Sheep on Saturday morning kids’ TV, then so be it.  

Their sales target is now more modest but a week ahead of their eleventh album, Rewind The Film, they’re publicity hungry enough to play a Hyde Park gig for Radio 2 on Sunday - performing down the bill to Jessie J and James Blunt – and follow it with a tiny corporate show for Absolute Radio at the 100 Club show on Tuesday; it’s all part of their original philosophy. They’ve never sought indie credibility. Appearing on Strictly Come Dancing was a recent enough reminder of that.  

There was an obvious appeal to play the 100 Club for the first time and my old mate James Dean Bradfield mentioned how he’d sound checked that afternoon with tracks from Never Mind The Bollocks; Steve Jones’s guitar parts he’d learnt off by heart in the Blackwood bedroom he shared as a kid with cousin Sean Moore. “It’s an honour to be stage on the same stage as Jonesy. Fuck the rest of them”. Although JDB was his usual affable self and Sean sported a pair of punkish tartan trousers, a make-up free Nicky Wire – despite a Sex Pistols sticker on his bass - was glumly going through the motions and looked like he’d sooner be cleaning his kitchen. The sound engineer wasted his time setting up Nicky’s vocal mic (no feather boas or decoration to the stand) as not once did he use it – not even to sing his lines on “Your Love Alone Is Not Enough” and there wasn’t even a glimpse of his loveable Cheshire Cat grin.

Whatever the cause of Wire’s moping I did feel some sympathy for him. The pairing of the Manics and the 100 Club is in theory perfect: standing in the footsteps the Pistols and their early stencil slogan template the Clash. Personally it brought together the band I’ve seen more than any other to the venue I’ve attended more than any other. They’ve both been – and remain - such an intrinsic part of my life that being able to experience them together was very special and I felt honoured to be there, made all the more extraordinary as there were so few genuine Manics fans in attendance. Admission was strictly invite only for Absolute staff, guests, music industry types and a small smattering of competition winners so it created a subdued atmosphere in a half empty club (doubt there was 150 people).  

The band stepped on stage to a ripple of polite applause but from Bradfield opening “Elvis Impersonator: Blackpool Pier” it was immediately apparent how terrible the sound quality is at most big gigs. Being able to see the band in the smallest venue I’ve seen them in since 1991 and able to hear them properly – crystal clear and with all the little nuances in Bradfield’s voice - was a rare treat, as was being stood only a few feet away; a far cry from the 02 Arena gig two years ago. They were – grumpy bollocks on bass notwithstanding – of course, magnificent. 

The sixteen song set contained some obvious choices, one or two less predictable ones, and four tracks from Rewind The Film: Richard Hawley wasn’t there so the title track was sung in its entirety by Bradfield; the brassy soul shuffling single “Show Me The Wonder” sounded wholly appropriate in the venue I’ve attended northern soul all-nighters for longer than I’ve seen the Manics, the renown “Mod Corner” to the left of the stage had been commandeered to hold a rack of twelve guitars so I had to position myself, for once, to the right; and the live debut of two previously unheard acoustic led folk numbers “Anthem For A Lost Cause” and “This Sullen Welsh Heart”. Bradfield’s delivery of that last one was stunning; even Wire was moved to applaud his friend.

The casual listener can always sing along to “A Design For Life” but even diehard fans can be excused for miming a few words to “Revol”. The new material is a long way from the fire and energy of “Revol” and “You Love Us” which were highlights (as was “No Surface All Feeling”) but the band have aged with dignity. I’m the same age and there’s no way I’d throw myself around at gigs any more so don’t expect them to write songs for me to do that. The robe barrier protecting the stage from the audience (the only time I’ve seen it here) didn’t feel necessary in the circumstances but had this been a “proper” Manics gig things may well have been considerably different. It was a real shame more fans couldn’t have been invited.

The Manics’ new found willingness to experiment with different styles is welcome (I never thought I’d see the day I could cut some northern soul moves to one of their singles); the early results speak for themselves and I can’t wait for the new album on Monday. In this wonderful world of purchase power, the Manic Street Preachers have made another sale. That should make even Nicky Wire smile.

My sincere thanks to Mark Thompson and Sean Moore for their generosity and kindness.

Set list: Elvis Impersonator: Blackpool Pier, Motorcycle Emptiness, Ocean Spray, Anthem For A Lost Cause, You Stole The Sun From My Heart, No Surface All Feeling, Rewind The Film, Tsunami, If You Tolerate This You’re Children Will Be Next, This Sullen Welsh Heart, Your Love Alone Is Not Enough, Revol, You Love Us, A Design For Life.

Rewind The Film by Manic Street Preachers is released on Monday 16th September 2013.

DARROW FLETCHER at the 100 CLUB, LONDON

Darrow Fletcher occupies a special place in the hearts of many rare soul fans, in particular to the mod corner that has congregated to the left of the 100 Club stage at 6T’s Allnighters for as long as I can remember. Fletcher’s pair of 1966 thumpers “The Pain Gets A Little Deeper” and “My Young Misery” are super-strength mod dancefloor magnets, with the more traditional northern soul of “What Good Am I Without You” and the classy sophistication of “What Have I Got Now” not far behind.

For Darrow to guest at Kent Records’ 30^th Anniversary party was therefore something to savour and an extra week of waiting after his passport was deemed “too scruffy” to travel from Chicago only added to the sense of anticipation. Soul acts can be hit or miss, especially when plonked in front of aficionados after years of inactivity. The night Ray Pollard did a similar performance here in the late 80s will stay with me forever – I’ve never experienced such love and adulation shown to an artist - but others have been less successful although that’s not really the point of these types of event.

Darrow was good, no two ways about it. His voice is understandably a bit rusty and he can’t hit all the notes but he can still hold a tune. I’ve always been amazed that he was only 14 when he recorded “The Pain Gets A Little Deeper” and when he stepped on to the stage it was hard to believe this still youthful man was now 61. Whilst many soul men are all glitz, bling and white suits, Darrow is resolutely “street” wearing nothing more ostentatious than a baggy shirt and pants (that’s American pants by the way). With his tiny stature and small glassy eyes he only needed a hoody and a bike and could’ve passed for a teenage drug runner.

Starting with “Changing By The Minute” he sang nine numbers, each to rapturous applause, including the four mentioned above plus nice 70s ones like “No Limit” and “Secret Weapon” (from his new Kent LP Crossover Records 1975-79: LA Soul Sessions) before returning for an extended “Pain”. It was over far too quickly, which speaks volumes not only for how enjoyable it was but how many great songs like “Infatuation” and “What Is This” were omitted. Kent are putting the finishing touches to a long-overdue collection of Darrow’s 60s material, due out next year; if Darrow can look after his passport they should bring him back.  

Worth a purchase is the excellent CD Kent 30: Best of Kent Northern 1982-2012 which celebrates the label with some old classics and future floor fillers. 

THE BIRDS at the 100 CLUB, LONDON

This is Ali McKenzie last night fronting his new version of The Birds.

6T’S CHRISTMAS PARTY at the 100 CLUB

With the future of London’s 100 Club shakier than my walk home after an all-nighter, this Thursday’s Christmas do by the 6T’s Rhythm and Soul Society is even more essential than usual. All those northern and R&B classics that have sat patiently at the back of record boxes all year get moved to the front and welcomed home like returning old friends.

I’m excited and as you can tell from my 1986 notebook I was pretty excited as a seventeen year old too, which translated into a terrible doodle of Jackie Wilson with his hand joined to his elbow and a funny little moddy bloke with Echo and the Bunnymen hair. The right hand page lists an edition of Peter Young’s Soul Cellar show from Capital Radio which I’d religiously record each week. (Click on the picture to enlarge).

This year’s party runs from 9pm until 2am, Thursday 23rd December, with the admission jumping from £1.50 to a somewhat less attractive £12.

THE JIM JONES REVUE at the 100 CLUB

Like black clad outlaws in a spaghetti western, the Jim Jones Revue gallop in to town, shoot the shit out the locals, drink their whiskey, steal their women, and leave a trail of destruction in their wake.

Tonight they reduce the 100 Club to rubble with a blistering assault on the senses; like being slashed with broken bourbon bottles before being bludgeoned with bar stools by barflys protecting their territory.

Jim Jones has his posse meticulously drilled. James Brown would famously fine his Flames for dropped notes, Jim Jones you suspect fines his motley crue for any chord hammered home without a suitable shape being thrown. And believe me, every chord is hammered out with the intention of being the knockout blow.

Jones’ blood curdling screams and the distorted, pummeling, rockaboogie rhythm creates a frenzied commotion before the Revue ride out in to the sunset, mission accomplished.

NEW YORK DOLLS at the 100 CLUB (Footage)

Ah man, I can't write sensibly about that Dolls gig, so here's the footage instead. The sound doesn't do it justice but it gives a sense of the rocks-off atmosphere of the night.

"Pills" was the Bo Diddley cover and the ragged "Personality Crisis" the encore. Enjoy.

NEW YORK DOLLS at the 100 CLUB

The New York Dolls played the 100 Club last night.

If I can manage to supress the hyperpole, I may write a few words. In the meantime, here's a picture I took of David Johansen.