Romesh Ranganathan, 'The Cynic's Mixtape Tour', SEC Armadillo, Glasgow. 26th Oct 2019

I feel I should preface this 'reaction' by referencing a bit Romesh starts with. He talks about the audience not wanting to be there. They booked the tickets over a year ago then forgot about them and now one person reminds the other they've got Romesh tonight and the other person sighs. It was funny because it was true. I wasn't up for a good night. I'd had a busy day (week) at work and just wanted to close my eyes and wake up after my extra hour's sleep post-BST. 

Jen Brister, the support act, did twenty minutes which did little to change this view. She was supposed to warm up the audience for Romesh but the sell-out crowd's bodies were already doing that. My eyes were heavy and I did my best to stay awake but I did occasionally slip into listening mode. My first impression of her was how she resembled a thin Mark Owen (of Take That).  Her material covered topics like her twins, being a 'lezzer' and labiaplasty. I didn't rate her but that was probably my fault more than hers due to my tiredness.

Our seats behind the sound desk in the circle gave me a good view, but my smaller wife (not that I have other wives of differing sizes) could have used a booster seat to see over the raised balcony. She had to sit forward in her seat to see. It also became frustrating every time the sound engineer walked to the front of his booth and we got his wild-haired silhouette obstructing our view. A reminder not to book those particular seats again.

Romesh can be predictable with his comedy but that doesn't stop it being funny. He talked about his kids, his wife, being a vegan, racism at the football and the public opinion of Michael Jackson post-paedo scandal. In the second half, he also covered his health, his sex life (his brown sausage, sorry, chipolata) and family holidays. He admits he is lazy (despite being on a multitude of tv programmes) so we know he's going to make reference to his wonky eye, his mum and being brown. We know he's going to say something scurrilous then counter it with an 'I'm kidding' then flip it with 'I'm not'. It's his schtick. He gave us what we expected and laughed all the way to the bank.

He played well off the audience. One woman who laughed loudly like the wicked witch of the west whenever he wasn't speaking prompting him to imagine she was sitting there listening on headphones to a Michael Macintyre gig. This was followed by a spot-on impression of MM's reaction to a 'man-drawer'. Nicely improvised.

I enjoyed the end (not just because I got to go home). The encore had him rapping, which was different but still in character with his love of hip hop. Then, as he walked off stage, the outro music was 'Earth Song' by Michael Jackson. It was a lovely surprise callback to his first-half material and it made me smile. So perhaps it wasn't that bad a night out after all. 

'The Music of BOND, Licence to Thrill', featuring John Rigby (conductor), Louise Dearman and Tim Hower (vocalists) and the Scottish Concert Orchestra, Royal Concert Hall, Glasgow. Sun 20th Oct, 2019.

I can be inflexible when it comes to planning my holiday schedule. If someone suggested I record my itinerary on a tablet, I'd use a chisel rather than a touch screen. So I was a bit freaked out when my holiday plans slowly unravelled. We had to cancel an overnight stay in Fort William and a trip on the Jacobite steam train after my dog fell ill; my Saxon gig got rescheduled after singer Biff Byford needed heart surgery; then Mr Singh's phoned to say there weren't enough people booked for Sunday's Pakora Masterclass so asked us to move to the Saturday instead. My plans were in tatters.

My wife, however, saw this as an opportunity and suggested we go to 'The Music of BOND' at the Concert Hall. I wasn't that keen but thought what the hell. If I didn't go, she would have gone with her mother and I would have ended up dogsitting four pooches instead.

I didn't really know what to expect other than an orchestra. I had hoped for movie clips of classic scenes but the lack of a screen on the stage put paid to that notion.

As the auditorium began to fill up, I realised from the age of the audience that this was going to be more of a Radio 2 'Friday Night is Music Night' style concert, only on a Sunday afternoon. The 28 piece orchestra started at the beginning with the classic Bond theme and treated us to a chronological journey through the soundtrack back catalogue, spiced up with sidesteps into the Pink Panther theme and a medley of crime theme tunes from tv and film, British in the first half and American in the second. I certainly wasn't expecting to hear the 'Hong Kong Phooey' theme being played today. In between, conductor Rigby acted as host and narrator giving us information about the music. 

In hindsight, it seems obvious, but the lack of any backing tracks impressed me. The orchestra was tight and sounded amazing. I was able to pick out individual instruments and the way the sound gelled was superb. 

Two singers were used and both had incredible voices. I particularly enjoyed Tim belting out Garbage's 'The World Is Not Enough' and Chris Cornell's 'You Know My Name'. Louise has a super range too, whether she's singing Adele's 'Skyfall' or any of the Shirley Bassey numbers.

They omitted one tune along the way. I wondered if it had been missed due to cost as Paul McCartney doesn't come cheap but it was being saved for the finale, with both singers duetting the famous number. It didn't have the impact of Paul's live version (no pyros) but Live and Let Die still left me smiling. A great way to finish the afternoon. The audience gave all the performers a standing ovation and it was well deserved. 

I guess I've reached that age now where I should be looking for my slippers, pulling on a cardigan, tuning the wireless to Scala FM and sitting back to relax with a Horlicks and a Werthers Original. 

Tommy Vance will be spinning in his grave.

    

  

Kiefer Sutherland, 'Reckless and Me' Tour, The Old Fruitmarket, Glasgow. 16th Oct, 2019

I confess I was largely unaware of his music when I bought the tickets to this show. I knew it was vaguely country, it would appeal to my wife and it was something to look forward to during my week off work.

The night didn't begin well at the venue as security was a shambles. Entering via the main door of the City Halls, there were tables on either side with a security person on each one but they were only conducting bag searches. We were then directed to another table on the left for ticket checking and hand stamping. Then we were guided around a couple of corners back to the entrance and told to join the queue which had now stretched up the stairs. The system would have been fine except some people didn't use the main door - some used the side door. They didn't get a bag search. They didn't know about the hand stamps and stood anywhere they liked, defeating the purpose of the queue. Despite my grumbles though, we still got a viewing position near the front so it wasn't all bad.   

The support act Twinnie was excellent. A Yorkshire lass, she gives good country with great songs and a strong voice. She's got the whole package: looks, talent and a sense of humour. I look forward to hearing her debut album when it comes out next year.

Kiefer, on the other hand, may write songs that he's proud of but tonight he was a letdown. His gruff voice does not lend itself to singing live. For the first few tracks, his vocals were lost in the mix and the audience complained they couldn't hear him. It only seemed to affect his singing as between the songs he remembered his mic voice.

Kiefer takes his music seriously. He told some interesting tales about the tunes but it felt like he was playing a sketchily-written part. He wore the clothes and recited his lines but he didn't own the stage. The band looked like they were letting the Emperor play his tunes, remaining po-faced, giving each other side glances, occasionally breaking into a smirk as some in-joke presented itself. They are talented musicians and played well but didn't feel invested. It got better towards the end as they showed what they could do but Kiefer was only along for the ride.

He'll get better with experience and a lot of his fans did enjoy themselves. Me, not so much.
Still, it was a night out.    

Joker, Odeon Luxe, Springfield Quay, Glasgow. 15th Oct 2019

It's not often I feel inhabited by a film. The last time it happened was after the original Robocop and I left the cinema moving as if every muscle was specifically powered by minute hydraulic servos. Tonight, I could feel Joker's twitchy, contorted dance flowing within me. But then I can get a little nuts at times.

As we crossed the Quay car park, another patron was mimicking Joker's laugh so loudly it echoed from the buildings. The impersonation was pitch-perfect. A group of lads near us giggled but as the laugh continued and the crowd thinned, to me it turned creepy and disturbing. Much like the effect of the film. I had to check with my wife that she could hear it too (she could). Driving home along an empty Paisley Road West, with its faulty lighting and graffitied shop shutters, I could picture rioters reclaiming the street because no one is listening to the people any more.

Joaquin's performance is incredible. There are touches of Andy Kaufman in Arthur's voice but the physicality is so particular to this version of the Joker, it's unique. Yes, the film is violent but it's justified because so are the injustices inflicted on the weak and powerless. Joker becomes their antihero. It's not so hard to imagine a similar character being born in today's world. With the people so dissatisfied with Brexit, Trump and climate change, it only takes a lick of greasepaint and a revolver for Greta Thunberg to be taken far more seriously.  

I loved this film.    

Eddie Izzard, "Wunderbar", Kings Theatre, Glasgow 5th Oct 2019.

A yellow weather warning sign displayed on the motorway tonight as I headed into Glasgow. There should have been one outside the theatre too as Eddie Izzard treated us to heavy giggles and floods of laughter. 'Wunderbar' is his final tour before he heads off on the campaign trail to become an MP and it is a belter. 

At the start, he explained why he wants to Make Humanity Great Again while decrying our current leaders whose insular thinking he abhors. Only, unlike me, he made it funny and interesting.  

His attire was enhanced by a wonderbra (because he's dyslexic), worn under his black blazer, giving his upper-half a bigger bulge than usual. The ensemble continued with black shorts, black tights and knee-high leather boots (although he swapped into plum-coloured high heels for the second half). Bright pink lipstick completed his look as a blonde/blond 1930's chanteuse, deliberately chosen as that's the period of history we seem to be returning to (unless we change it). 

From when he left the stage at the end. I didn't
take any photos during the performance. 

Unusually for him, he shared some fond stories about his parents, such as the childhood adventures he went on with his mother (she died when he was young) and the jokes his father expressed near the end of his life, revealing him to be a wickedly-funny man. These stories weren't mawkish or sentimental but used more as jumping-off points for more surreal silliness.

He delivered a tiny fraction of his material in German, a little in French, a lot in Pingu and made regular use of expressive sound effects. Regardless of which language he used, though, it was all incredibly funny. His characteristic, playful dialogues riffed on history from the Big Bang to last Thursday through a prism of modern cultural motifs, James Bond, Marvel and JRR Tolkein all getting mentions. 

He brought us a fat ancient king (William the Conquerer, I think) who died when he exploded like Mr Creosote, killed not with a thick slice of chocolate mint or medium-size chocolate mint but a (French-accented) wafer-thin chocolate mint. While detailing how Henry the Eighth's wives died, one was beheaded by a helicopter (true story). There were also lots of historical figures called Kenny. 

He's not a fan of religion, preferring logic and reason to blind belief, and acted out why it took God 130 billion years to create man - after the Big Bang, he'd also invented crack.

Tigers featured heavily tonight (jazz chickens were only trotted out once) and so we were blessed to hear his version of a Tiger hymn because, of course, all of God's creatures must worship their Creator. 

This is a surface scratch of the zaniness. I can't recall it all. It's a wonder he can remember it all too.

He left as he appeared, in a blaze of light. 

Final word: "Wunderbar".

Frankie Boyle, Full Power, Kings Theatre, Glasgow. Tuesday 1st October, 2019.

I've been going to see Frankie perform since the days of his pink suit when he played at The Garage on Sauchiehall Street. I've watched his star rise, get consumed by his own bile then witnessed his return on his own terms, sober but still delightfully twisted and curmudgeonly. 

The support act was the naturally funny Ray Bradshaw. He got twenty minutes to play with before the venue insisted on selling more booze and ice cream. He coped admirably. His material around sign language and his deaf parents was top-notch. He is touring later in the year and would be well worth a look-see.

We were warned both on the posters displayed on the doors and verbally by the ushers that once Frankie has started there would be no readmittance to anyone leaving the auditorium. Obviously, for a Glasgow audience, this meant wading back to your seat loaded up with pints of lager just before the lights dimmed. I wondered how many would last through his set without needing a pish. Fortunately for them, he only played for an hour so few departed.

Tam Cowan was sitting in front of me. He didn't load up at the interval but did need a pish at the end, asking the ladies to his right if they wouldn't mind letting him pass given his urgency. As he is semi-famous, they, of course, insisted on chatting to him. He managed to hold it in as far as I could tell. No fouling off the ball for Tam. 

(Trivia: Tam looks older than me but is actually six months younger - that's journalism for you). 

I had attended the gig alone so was more receptive to the people around me. I thought the couple sitting on my right were mismatched. Both were in their early twenties. She was a pretty brunette in a green and blue dress with red tights that colour-matched her loafers. She also wore a purple beaded necklace that Frankie might have suggested (had he seen it), she kept as an emergency marital aid. The boyfriend, on the other hand, looked like he could pass as Ed Sheeran's older brother in Jarvis Cocker specs, with short ginger hair, short ginger beard and, presumably, short ginger pubes. He droned on with the annoying monotony of a 1970's sociology lecturer.

I couldn't understand their attraction. 

Then, when Frankie came on stage (not sexually), she put her fingers to her mouth and let rip a whistle that would leave Ray Bradshaw's parents complaining. 

Then I got it.

She was pretty.
He was annoying.
Together they were pretty annoying.

The rest of the audience were mostly well-mannered with only a couple of idiots heckling. Frankie swiftly put them down and moved on, not wishing to give their interruption more air than they deserved, while inwardly hoping they might bleed to death on the leaky priapism they'd given themselves.

You can tell I enjoyed the gig.