Frankie Boyle's New World Order End Of Year Show Recording, Film City, Glasgow. Tuesday 14th December, 2021

I missed out on GUN's Barrowland gig on Saturday thanks to an unfortunate COVID ping from Track and Trace. At any other time, a ten-day forced absence from work would have been a delight (excepting the illness part) but this week I was on holiday and had gigs to attend. Fortunately, my PCR result returned negative so my plans for the rest of the week were not scuppered. 

Originally, this show wasn't on my list for this week. I hadn't even bothered applying for tickets. Then, after watching the show, I noticed a name I recognised on the show's end credits. I contacted her to check if she was this person (I knew she worked in television) hoping to get some juicy backstage goss about the show. I happened to mention how long I've admired Frankie Boyle's work and she responded by offering me tickets to one of the recordings. Not just tickets, production seats, the M&S of show tickets, although at the time I didn't realise how big a deal this was. 

So, tickets printed and maps checked, we drove to Ibrox Underground station and walked the short distance to Film City on Govan Road, not failing to notice the number of parking spaces available closer. It was a cold night but the rain had paused so it wasn't too much of an inconvenience. We joined the end of the queue, which had stretched around the corner of the building. The Standing Room Only staff were checking names and temperatures. When they came to us, they highlighted that we had Production Seats and indicated we should head to the front and go in. My temp check was fine but the thermometer froze during Bob's scan. They eventually needed to scan his neck having failed to register anything other than LOW on his forehead and wrist.

At the front, the doors were already open and the queue was moving in. They closed ranks as we approached not leaving any gaps so we stood there until a security person pushed through with someone else, announcing "VIPs coming through". We tagged on behind. At the next checkpoint, the staff checked my name again and gave us silver wristbands and examined our COVID passports. The lady wanted to see all the content, not just the QR code. Then we were handed black PPE facemasks to wear during the show.

We waited in the holding area in the building's cafe. There, a security woman with long dark hair and fierce eyeliner kept us away from the doors marked PRODUCTION  and TALENT and directed those in need towards the toilets. She didn't appear happy in her job, like a wolf forced to shepherd sheep. We didn't have too long to wait before she announced that Gold and Silver wristband holders could proceed into the studio.

It felt like we had priority boarding as we headed in, greeted by an attractive production assistant who ushered us to our seats. This feeling of elation grew even stronger when I saw the signs for our reserved seats, with my name in capitals, in the second row from the front. 

The studio lights were warm as we waited for the rest of the audience to filter in. Cameramen and the production crew stood around waiting too. Without a fanfare, comedian Christopher MacArthur-Boyd jumped onto the stage to warm us up, performing material at least one audience member had heard before.

Then Frankie came on to greet us, telling us the three jokes he uses to gauge an audience's tolerance levels. And the show began.

The recording went on far longer than the half-hour programme suggests, going on for nearly two hours and those seats are not comfortable over a prolonged period. With the audience lights dimmed, the room grew colder despite being packed in close together. Fortunately, there were plenty of laughs to keep us warm. There was a brief respite where they paused the show to allow Jamali Maddix a fag break. Christopher came back and that gave us wriggle time knowing the cameras were off. 

As this is television, at the end there were pick-ups to do, one where Frankie had mispronounced Ant McPartlin's surname and another where Susie McCabe had to redo her bit about Talk Radio. It was also strange listening to Frankie recite a monologue of words like up first, up next, and finally, one after another to be subsequently used in the edit to link the sequences.

The cast posed for a picture and it was all over.

A fun experience and I can't wait to see what they use. One bit I know won't be in it is the first joke from Frankie's end of show monologue. Even he knew it, returning to his seat to start afresh, beginning with the next joke.  

Thank you to Clare Hipkiss for arranging the tickets. Check out her novel, Tales from the Ice Cream Van here. It's really good.

Admiral Fallow, St Lukes, Glasgow. Saturday 4th December, 2021.

Sometimes you buy tickets for a gig and then when it comes along, you're not in the mood. When their new album, The Idea of You, came out, it left me initially underwhelmed so my enthusiasm was low plus my wife had made other plans, leaving me with a spare ticket. Should I just punt the pair instead? The gig was sold out so it was likely I could get rid of them. 

No, I thought. Go along. You like Admiral Fallow. They are a class act.

So I asked a friend if he wanted a free gig and he accepted, kindly offering to drive us up so I didn't kill him on the journey after a rather intense day at work. 

We got there at 7.20pm for doors opening at 7.30pm and were eighth in the queue. Not quite what I had intended (where was everyone?) but we waited, had our Covid passes checked, had our ticket stubs torn off and then our wrists stamped before being allowed entry into the main room. We found a pillar table, downed some soft drinks and had a chinwag until the support act came on.

I'd never heard or heard of Pour Moi. They play Americana (?), no doubt with heartfelt lyrics but I couldn't make out what the bearded main man was signing. All their songs were performed at one of two paces: slow and slower (except for the last number which speeded up to medium). I was disappointed. Poor, indeed. But at least I could see them.

Maybe the sensible ones knew what Pour Moi were like and waited in the bar next door because, by the time Admiral Fallow ambled on stage, the venue was packed. I lost my good view to a young couple, both of whom were as tall as me, only she had thick, long blonde hair, which had the view-blocking power of a bath towel draped over her head. Whenever he closed in for a hug or to rub her back, my viewing angle disappeared. So I entertained myself by imagining how he was really into her but she wasn't into him, then she spoiled my game by reciprocating his affection. Ah, to be young and in love.

Then another group migrated their way into the narrow space between us, a not quite-as-young couple and their Art Garfunkel-lookalike friend (whom I noticed was missing a hand). The bloke chatted frequently to Art about how much he liked the band, ignoring the fact that they were playing during his conversation. How inconsiderate of them! At one point, I even considered broadcasting their chat on Facebook Live as it definitely wasn't private. It was fascinating to watch Art clap with his pint in his mouth or use his phone to take pictures. And good for him. He was certainly proficient at carrying three pints back to his pals midway through the show. Not quite at Paralympian level but close (not that there is a Paralympic event for carrying pints of lager).

Despite my initial reservations (and the crowd in front of me), I still enjoyed listening to the music. Their set contained enough variety between soulful ballads and quick-paced bouncy numbers to hold my interest and the lead singer's banter is always modestly engaging. When the band gathered at the front of the stage for Four Bulbs at the start of the encore, the audience fell appreciatively silent, giving the number a reverence that worked well in the former church venue. 

They are a class act indeed. 

Setlist  

Subbuteo

Sleepwalking

Electric Eyes

The Grand National, 1993

Holding The Strings

The Paper Trench

Evangeline

Dead Against Smoking

Three Weeks

Dragonfly

Guest of the Government

Squealing Pigs

Tuesday Grey

Encore:

Four Bulbs

Old Balloons

Madness, The Ladykillers Tour, OVO Hydro, Glasgow. Friday 3rd December, 2021

Prior to the gig, we enjoyed a sneaky game of Macdonalds' bingo, eating in, waiting patiently for our one number to be called to win an evening feast for two: ticket price - an evening feast for two. 

Our stomachs duly satisfied, we headed for the venue and joined one of the long but quick queues outside, firstly to get out Covid passports checked then to get frisked then to get our tickets scanned and a wrist band attached. My frisk was not without incident as the security man discovered my change pocket was full of forgotten dog treats. He looked at me suspiciously but let me in. I suspect the smell would have told him they weren't edibles.

Squeeze came on just after 7.30 pm and played a tight hour-long set full of familiar hits and a couple I wasn't so sure about. Glenn Tillbrook can rock a mean guitar which I was not expecting. It was great to hear the Hydro singing along to a strong support act.

The DJ did a fine job of keeping our vocal cords and our dancing feet warmed up between the bands. Dressed in a suit and shades, a handkerchief poking out of his jacket pocket, he had the style and verve of Reggie Kray and played some fine tunes. 

A lesser band would struggle to follow Squeeze but this was not a concern for Madness. Drawing back the curtains to the backdrop of a London street, complete with a telephone box, red pillar box, street lights, railings and an Underground entrance, Madness took the stage, grabbed the audience and held on till they departed before the encore. Then on came a bagpiper to play our national anthem and Scotland the Brave and the band returned to top off the evening with a couple more hits, finishing on Night Boat to Cairo, playing us out with Monty Python's Always Look On the Bright Side of Life.

Suggs is an excellent raconteur and ringleader for his band of miscreants, full of tales and comic quips. The sound was occasionally muddy but improved as the gig progressed. The audience loved them and danced and sang along in their fezs, trilbys and porkpie hats. It was a great night.

The gig did have its share of drunken doughballs who insisted on pushing forward but not in an ill-mannered way. In the break between the bands, one incensed individual was carried out off the ground at a forty-five-degree angle by a posse of security guards, his double chin straining as he struggled to keep his head upright while he cursed and argued with them. It was the first time I'd seen this level of action. Normally the drunks get led out not carried. I suspect he'd been fighting. 

Would I go back to see Madness again? Probably not. It was a special night but I've ticked them off my bucket list.

Setlist : Squeeze

Take Me I'm Yours

Up the Junction

Hourglass

Cradle to the Grave

Slap and Tickle

F-Hole

Labelled With Love

Please

Pulling Mussels (From the Shell)

Tempted

Cool for Cats

Black Coffee in Bed

Setlist: Madness 

One Step Beyond (Prince Buster cover)

Embarrassment

The Prince

NW5

My Girl

Take It or Leave It

The Sun and the Rain

Baby Burglar

Wings of a Dove

One Better Day

Lovestruck

If I Go Mad

Shut Up

Mr. Apples

Bed and Breakfast Man

Wooly Bully (Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs cover)

House of Fun

Baggy Trousers

Our House

It Must Be Love (Labi Siffre cover)

Encore:

Madness (Prince Buster cover)

Night Boat to Cairo

 

 

   

 

Holy Moly and the Crackers, Audio, Glasgow. Sat 9th October, 2021

My third gig post-lockdown and this was the one where I feared most that I'd catch Covid: small, steamy venue; no pre-checks required; no testing at the door; hardly anyone wearing masks inside; no social distancing; lots of alcohol being consumed and plenty of loud conversations between people determined to be heard over the music. Akin to playing Russian roulette with a couple of empty chambers already clicked.

I'm still glad I went.

The first support act, Rob Heron, appeared dressed like a French man (his words) and played a set of old-time music. He carried an air of Lonnie Donegan via Miles Jupp. His personality won over most pockets of the audience. Not sure if he managed to double his sales though, with a night target of two LPs.

Rob Heron

The second support act was True Strays, a rock-blues combo, inhabiting the spirit of truckstop America's Deep South. Imagine Seasick Steve as a duo. I wasn't enamoured by their weak cover of ZZ Top's Gimme All Your Lovin' but their original material went down well. Technical sound gremlins hampered their show with the mics often not working. It turned out the venue's sound engineer had called in sick with Covid and they'd had to bring in a last-minute replacement and he was having a nightmare keeping everything wired up. At one point the two guys played acapella at the front of the stage to let the engineer fix things and from then on it went fine, apart from the occasional issue with the sound levels. 

True Strays

The headliners, Holy Moly and the Crackers are (to quote their website) "innovative and fiery folk-rockers, who put on a raucous and feel-good party, where everyone is invited". This was evident by the wide range of their audience: from students to pensioners, working-class to moneyed-class. I stumbled across the band during lockdown thanks to an Amazon Music "You Might Like" suggestion. Their combination of catchy tunes and eastern European rhythms was beguiling so I took a punt on seeing them live. They did not disappoint.

Beforehand, I was not aware Ruth Patterson, their frontwoman, was disabled. She was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlon Syndrome at 21 and performs from a seat in the centre of the stage. She normally gets around in a wheelchair but this wasn't an option with Audio's small stage so Conrad Bird, the band's other frontman, carried her on piggyback-style. Seeing the frontwoman lowered to a seat this way unsettled me as I didn't know what was wrong with her. Perform sitting down, thrusting out her arms and dancing with her upper body, she quickly dissolved any awkwardness proving her disability didn't detract from her and our enjoyment. She had a great time singing, playing the fiddle and whipping up the crowd. 

So too did Conrad with his earthy vocals, guitar playing and trumpeting. Indeed, the band meshed as a tight unit to create their unique sound and party atmosphere. Again, there were a few minor sound gremlins but nothing serious.

I would definitely see these gypsy troubadours again, hopefully in a venue where the audience did less drinking and chatting during the show. 

No Setlist, unfortunately, though they did finish on Whiskey Aint No Good, written by Rob Heron, with him and True Strays joining them for the final song. 

My phone camera kept playing up so I have only a few pics from the show worth sharing.

  

Manic Street Preachers, "The Ultra Vivid Lament Tour", Glasgow Barrowland. Tues 5th October, 2021

On the day I received my flu shot and second Covid booster (one in each arm), I ventured out to Glasgow armed with my vaccine passport, mask and tickets for only my second gig in eighteen months (and this one was standing). Was I going to be gig fit and last the night?

Arriving after 7.30 pm (doors open 7 pm), we got straight through security with minimum fuss (a couple of questions re covid symptoms and a temperature check). We weren't even frisked. The dancehall was empty bar the hardcore at the front and a smattering of fans at the fringes. We settled on a spot in the middle rear part of the hall, further back than the disco ball,which hangs from the centre of the ceiling.

The support act was not The Ancores as advertised (not that I would have recognised them anyway) but a band from Hull called Low Hummer. The girl singer was in a bright red Cheongsam while the other singing bloke looked like a newly-qualified social studies teacher in his beige long-sleeved t-shirt, hands in his trouser pockets as he walked around the stage. 

Low Hummer

They play what I would describe as a retro, post-punk indie with a heavy drum beat and vocals that are as often spoken as sung. And I liked them (enough to do an internet search to check out who they were based on the few song titles I could make out). The keyboard player was so gorgeous I had to keep reminding myself I was old enough to be her dad and she would have an accent like comedian Lucy Beaumont. 

Elegant and cool!

I listened to their newly released debut album, "Modern Tricks For Living" on Amazon Music afterwards and was surprised by how 80's synth-heavy it was. This aspect wasn't apparent on the night.

The Manics opened with Motorcycle Emptiness and the Glasgow crowd came alive, taking over the vocals for the chorus. James Dean Bradfield commented afterwards in his inimitable Wesh accent, "Well, you turned up, didn't you!" Over the course of one hundred minutes, they performed a variety of old and new songs. One nice touch was when they played a few bars of Into the Valley by The Skids before going into a cover of GnR's Sweet Child O Mine. They've been varying the intro across the tour so the Scottish flavour was apt for the Glasgow show. 

The crowd was packed, with latecomers pushing their way towards the middle. Somehow I always manage to end up in a section of the crowd that forms a corridor to the bar with traffic moving in both directions. Two assholes clutching pints decided to stop right in front of me. To add insult to injury, the bald one turned around, saw my annoyance and had the balls to say "Look mate, we're not pushing in. We've been standing here all night. We just both went for a pint," then turned around again and chuckled to his mate. Believing that to be a lie, my impotent rage went into overdrive. I began to imagine drawing a garrotte from my belt and slicing his neck till the blood poured down his shirt like a waterfall. Whenever he sucked on his vape, I wanted to shove his head forward so hard he smashed his teeth against it and choked on it as it got wedged down his throat. His bearded pal deserved to get his pint sprinkled with powdered dog training treats but my supply had been emptied prior to departure in case the staff thought I was carrying Scooby snacks. Obviously, this was all in my head and I did nothing but fume and clap uncomfortably loudly close to the bald guy's head at the end of each song. 

The Manics gave a great performance and the audience loved them, As did I. My only minor gripe was with the lighting which was regularly blinding and a bit unimaginative. I suspect it was designed for a venue with a higher ceiling. But that's rock n roll for you.

I kept my mask on for the entire show (I was very much in the minority there) but still managed to sing along despite my tickly upper lip. The next morning, I was rewarded with a croaky, deep voice, which attests it was a great night out.     

Setlist

Motorcycle Emptiness

Orwellian

Your Love Alone Is Not Enough

The Secret He Had Missed

You Stole the Sun From My Heart

Little Baby Nothing

Still Snowing in Sapporo

Everything Must Go

Complicated Illusions

International Blue

If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next

From Despair to Where (Acoustic)

Into the Valley (The Skids - Intro only)

Sweet Child o' Mine (Guns N’ Roses cover)

Tsunami

Afterending

Slash 'n' Burn

Spectators of Suicide

Ocean Spray

You Love Us

A Design for Life

Addendum: Having looked through my photos of the night, I have subsequently discovered those two chaps were indeed in front of me on the other side of the traffic corridor. 

Addendum two: in today's PDE there is a report that a student has been convicted of assault to severe injury for shoving a man in a takeaway. The student was verbally provoked by the aggressive drunk but still got fined £625 because there was no excuse for his behaviour. 

A timely reminder of the consequences of violence. It's never worth it.