Greetings viewers & passers by.
Welcome to the photographic & written blog of a life spent travelling the length & breadth of the country,following rock'n'roll bands; some good,some great & some outrageously shite.
Chin chin.
Aah, the Yardbirds in Grimsby. I've seen the Presleys here before & I have got to say this is one of the finest rock clubs I've ever been to. Run by the local 'Warlocks motorcycle club', it's cleaner than a very clean whistle that's just been cleaned & has a great friendly atmosphere, so it's always a pleasure to take that 65 mile drive from dear old Ponte- Carlo. Now, the mighty Devilish Presley have a serious hardcore following & it was great to see a healthy turnout of the 'Devils Dandy Dogs', from as far afield as Oxford & Manchester. A fine effort indeed.
Bring out yer dead!
She rocks, she never stops.
Mucho praise must also go to local 'Dandy Dogs' Jez & Graham for pushing this gig into the conscience of the local populace, ensuring a very healthy turnout indeed. One thing I love about this club is the stage decor, the painted flames seem to take on an ethereal glow under the lights. The 'Bad Apples' were first up with their Johnny Cash influenced rockabilly sound & put in a thoroughly entertaining set. But there's only one band who we were itching to see & once again they delivered with some style. Now I am rapidly running out of expletives with which to describe this deadly duo. Dear reader, all you need to know is they rocked like f**k.
Mr J Navarro was his usual dynamic self, thrusting himself back & forth into the baying throng like a whirling dervish whilst Ms Vixen hogged the stage lights & belted out the anthems we know & love so well.
On the 18th & 19th of this month Devilish Presley take their show to Scotland, where lurks another diehard chapter of the 'Devils Dandy Dogs'. You folks are in for one hell of a weekend. ENJOY ! As an honorary member of the DDD it was a pleasure & an honour to meet our cultural & spiritual leader in Grimsby; the fine handsome young fella known only as.......Battle hardened road warrior...... WITHNAIL.
I can see through your skirt with my X-Ray vision.
Aah, the Replacements. I was chuffed to bits when I dug these old snaps out, all thanks to my brother for scanning them & to my old point & shoot (nothing's changed there then) Olympus trip for taking them.
The Replacements & the solo work of Paul Westerberg was all your dear scribe had in the late eighties & most of the nineties.In an era of second rate hairspray, bands they were a breath of fresh air.
The Berg & his soon to be trashed Rickenbacker.
Tommy gets his tonsils out.
Their gigs were legendary, they could either totally annoy by degenerating into a sloppy shambolic mess & abuse the audience & each other, whilst playing half assed cover versions for two hours & never completing a single song.
On the other hand when they'd got their shit together they were pure dynamite.
I guess I should consider myself very lucky. On the three occasions I got to see them they were stunning. The most notable being Sheffield Leadmill. They hit the stage dressed in archetypal American tourist garb. All green & yellow checked shirts & jackets, with silver spray painted work boots with dollar signs. How I wish I'd taken my camera that night.
Pre Guns & Roses Tommy
They started with out 'n' out rocker 'Iou from 'pleased to meet me' & from thereon in, the pace was relentless.
The Leadmill was the kind of place where the bands had to finish early to make way for the place turning into a nightclub. As the late night clubbers were drifting in they decided to play an hours worth of cover versions for an encore, from Black Sabbath to Mama Cass. GENIUS!
The snaps you are viewing are from the Manchester Boardwalk in 1991. They were touring on the back of their last album 'All shook down' a much slower affair which showed off Paul Westerbergs husky, late night, smoky voice.
They never came across as hard living rock stars. They were more like the naughty little boys from 'Little rascals'. Instead of coke fuelled sex orgies, they always looked like they'd be more at home throwing eggs at your windows then hiding in the bushes giggling about it.
Paul soaked in sweat & tcp.
As is usually the case where great talent is concerned, they never got the credit they deserved. Influencing a generation of bands, one producer of note, on hearing 'Never mind' by Nirvana, quoted; 'yup, they've made a half decent Replacements album'.
The Berg goes surfing.
So there you have it boys & girls. THE REPLACEMENTS. Often imitated, never bettered.
This post is dedicated to Bill from Edinburgh. A man who finished work on a friday, hopped on a plane to the States on the same afternoon, went to a Paul Westerberg gig & then flew back home.
My friend; the word 'Legend' doesn't even begin to come close.
N.B. Check out the duet with Paul & Joan Jett from the Tank Girl soundtrack.
Aaah, the Appleby, one of my favourite venues, a real old fashioned boozer with a great friendly atmosphere & also a happy hunting ground on many occasions for Devilish Presley.
This is hardly surprising as they approach everything they do with a professionalism that is second to none. From the moment they crashed into the first song you just knew that it was gonna be a special show. The sound out front was spot on, crisp, clear & punchy with just enough crunch on the guitars to lift the hairs on the back of your neck & give your spine a tickle,while the dual vocals complimented each other perfectly.
The new material (check out the above video to the beast must die) sounded better than I've ever heard.
'Happy as saturday' & 'I created a monster' sees Vixens vocal rip forth from a place deep in the pit of her stomach which I doubt even she knew existed. The song writing has been upped to another level, which I just didn't think possible. It's got more hooks than 'Ed Geins' reception area.
However the 'piece de resistance' as far as I'm concerned is a song called 'The DTs' or the 'Shakers' I'm not too sure which. It's an ode to the late great Dylan Thomas & how during a late night ouija board session they contacted the great man, the outcome being that he has now become their spirit guide. What great subject matter, what a fantastic song.
Closing the evenings entertainment was another newie, detailing the bands quest to have the number one single for the end of the world in 2012. 'Kiss kiss apocalypse' is a ripsnorter it's a roarer & it's a rogerer.
This is one album that's got my appetite not just whetted, but absolutely saturated.
Boys & girls, this album comes out on May the 9th do yourself a massive favour & buy it. In fact, kill two birds with one stone & buy it from a gig. If you're not satisfied with it, I'll reimburse your money myself.
The world needs a band like this, if not to walk us gently to the end of the world, then at least to blow away all the cobwebs.
Greetings dear reader & welcome to the second gig of the Dark Triad tour.
It can sometimes be a little difficult getting to certain gigs during the week & tonight proved to be no exception.
As Mrs Tightpocket & myself were nearing Manchester on the M62, I felt that ever familiar stomach cramp hit me & I knew we had to find a can & in double quick time. After struggling to get parked, we set about our holy quest, to find a bog. Now this is not such an easy job when you've parked on the outskirts of town. Just as my gait had achieved penguin status (much to the mirth & merriment of Ms Tightpocket) we happened upon the soft lighting of a small bar & not a moment too soon. Bloody hell that could have been one hell of a clean up job for the bread knife.
Without further ado we hot footed it to the gig. Now the Ruby lounge is appropriately named as the lighting on stage & everywhere else for that matter is bathed in deep dull red. Apparently the place doubles up as a lap dancing bar on other nights.
Tonights show was a charity fundraiser to help a little boy called C.J get to America for life saving surgery.
So shame on those bands who didn't turn up because they weren't getting paid. I guess some people haven't quite grasped the meaning of the word 'charity' just yet.
Not so the Mighty Devilish Presley who hit the stage with a flourish, giving twenty pound notes & t-shirts for raffling off towards the charity. Top people.
They ripped through a shortened set with great gusto, mixing in the new with the old (more of the new stuff in the next blog). Johnny Navarro jumping into the crowd & running around like a Tazmanian Devil on speed while Jacqui Vixen has hit the ground running after switching from bass to guitar. Love the newly customised Tele.
As ever, all good things must come to an end & our heroes finished with the obligatory 'black leather Jesus' & Billy Rattlestick. I never tire of seeing & hearing them but I do wish they'd stick 'Robert Johnson' on the old set list.
Now the main reason everyone was here tonight was to raise money for C.J & though the place was far from full £650 was raised. Quite an admirable figure I thought.
The surreal moment of the night ocurred as we were stood outside the venue enjoying a fag with Jacqui & Johnny. We could not believe our peepers when a horde of people walked past us dressed as mushrooms! Yup that's right. Fucking mushrooms! I jest ye not!
We took this as a sign from the gods that we really did need some sleep, so we said our farewells & headed for home. As usual when in a place we don't really know, we try to re-trace our steps when heading back to the car. This time we were forced to take a diversion around the street where the little bar we visited earlier is situated. The whole road was blocked off & guarded by men in white hooded overalls with masks. At a closer inspection I noticed some of their brethren outside the little bar with geiger counters which were making one hell of an unholy racket.
Can't think why!!!!
Aaah, greetings dear reader. Come hither & tarry a while, put up thy feet & rest thou weary head....for I have a story to tell.
'Twas the night of August 3 in the year of our lord 2006. However this little tale starts some 30 years previous.
Many moons ago there was a very talented writer who wrote for a weekly music rag. Many of us hung on his word with baited breath.
One week in particular he wrote a retrospective piece on the New York Dolls. Your genial host was dragged in; hook,line, sinker & thigh high gum boots. There was one particular phrase however, which I found quite beautiful & which kind of stuck with me for a long time. He said of the Dolls when they played Bibas in London 'They had a lease on your minds eye which lived with you forever'. I kind of half knew what he meant but couldn't quite put my finger on it.
Fast forward some 30 years to the Cleethorpes Winter gardens, (now sadly reduced to a pile of rubble) where your old mate Flash Tightpocket had made the 70 mile journey to see the Damned.
There were 4 bands in total on the bill & after a couple of worthy efforts I made my way to the bar.
As I was repairing to my seat on the sidelines, I was hit like a punch in the throat. For there on stage was everything I loved about rock'n'roll.
This 2 piece were flash they were brash & they made the most beautiful rock'n'roll noise. On guitar & vocals Mr Johnny Navarro prowling the stage like a horned demon victorian undertaker & on bass & vocals Ms Jacqui Vixen, like the coldly vampiric love child of Cruella deVille & Betty Page (I know, I know, the biology doesn't quite sync but you get the picture).
In a 40 minute blaze of colour & noise they were gone & yours truly was properly hooked.
Moreover those words of 30 years hence came straight back at me. Now I know what they meant.
I have subsequently seen this band countless times since. Have I ever tired & wearied of seeing them? Like hell I have. This is the band I'd been waiting for all my life. Such well crafted songs & instantly memorable.
Devilish Presley are about to embark on a British tour in support of their 5th (count 'em) album out in May.
May I add that's 5 albums all self financed, completely untainted by the cold dead clutches of a record companys hands.
Miss this band at your peril they ooze the very essence of rock'n'roll, like the Heartbreakers,the Ramones & T'Rex before 'em.
Recently, 'er indoors & myself took a 200 mile trek to Colchester to watch this band. We were stuck in snow & traffic for 8 hours & they refused to go on stage 'til we got there. 11.45pm. How many bands do you know who'd do that? They care & so should all of us, don't let your apathy & indifference kill 'em off.
So dear reader, try to catch 'em at one of the above venues & in the unlikely event that you should come back to your old mate Flash & tell me that you weren't impressed, then you have the piss of a fetid old tramp coursing through your veins.
Chin Chin my dears.
All live snaps from Bradford Zuu bar 29-1-11
And so dear reader, it was with great trepidation that Madame Tightpocket & myself hoofed it up the road from Northampton to Birmingham in the old green rustbucket, for the last in the trilogy of Walters shows After an exceedingly hot & vastly overpriced 'ruby murray' (thank god for plastic, apparently you don't have to pay it back) we arrived at the Actress & Bishop. If it wasn't for the posters outside you'd have sworn there was nothing happening. It was all pretty quiet downstairs but after opening the door at the top of the wooden hill, it was like opening the gates of hell.(In the nicest possible way). 'Drongos for Europe' were going through their paces. It's been many a moon since I last saw them & they still make a mighty fine punkerama noise. Walter & the boys came on stage at about 11.30 & the place erupted, these Brummy folks sure know how to throw a party.
The bread knife & me decided not to chase about snapping away, but to stand back & absorb the whole thing for one last time. I'll not bore you with the details, all you need to know dear reader, is that Waldo rocked like fuck.
Many many thanks must surely go to the people at 'stay sick' & the 'dirty water club' for getting Walter over here & making these shows possible, also hearty congratulations to the band (hi Jez) who pulled it all off with some aplomb. Sorry we couldn't hang around for drinks fellas, we had to drive home through the night to be up bright & early to pick up my 12 year old, long haired, wallet draining skateboarder. Madame Tightpocket & me drove home a little tired & a little saddened that it was all over.So we made the conscious decision to go & see the Waldos in New Yonkers in late 11-early 12. Walter, please don't leave it another 24 years, come back soon. We are not alone when we say...... WE LOVE YOU.
After a suitably snotty breakfast in our Kings Cross fleapit of a hotel, Mrs Tightpocket & myself hot-footed it the few hundred yards to K.K station & jumped on our non horse drawn carriage to Wakefield; caught a bus to dear old Pontefract & landed home at 2.30pm. A quick wash & brush up, a cup of coffee & we jumped into our rapidly decaying old jam jar & chugged our way down to Northampton. Phew! The Travelodge we stopped in offered fantastic value at £29. We troughed our way through a town centre bar meal & then finally !!!! it was time to hit the Legendary Labour club. On first viewing the club was anything but 'legendary'. An end terrace house knocked through with hot & cold running damp & dry rot. But hey, what the hell, I shouldn't be such a snob. These people have gotten off their asses & in these dark days when money is tight, they're putting some pretty hot gigs on. Might I add; none more hot, nay even more Legendary than the great Walter Lure & once again the man delivered with some gusto.
With only a slight change in set-list, the man once again led us through the tunes you can trust & no-one in the building wanted it any other way. I have to say that when taking photos of live bands it always helps to have a good lighting rig. The lighting rig in this place was a standard lamp in the corner of the room. Priceless! I have seen some strange things in my time, but after the show I saw one of the strangest. We were having a chat & a drink, with Waldo & Ossie the drummer, when a guy came up & kissed Walters hand. .Now come on, I know the man is held in high esteem in certain parts but that was ...er....creepy. Once again another wonderful evening had sadly, to come to a close. With just one more show left in the trilogy to look forward to, I bundled a heavily alcohol sedated Mrs Tightpocket into our waiting taxi & headed back to our hotel with it's hd-tv. Completely satisfied & happy that I'd touched that famous orange & white striped tie.
