Deacon Blue, "All The Old 45s - The Very Best of Deacon Blue", OVO Hydro, Saturday 14th October 2023

They say parking spaces are too small for the size of cars these days. I think the same could also apply to the seats at the OVO as a generation of Deacon Blue fans expands. If the band continue to fill the venue year after year, the OVO management is going to have to replace the current seats with bigger ones. Just an observation that applies to me as much as the people sitting around me, side belly to side belly.

The place looked a sellout, every tier packed. With no support act, most people knew to get there early. I was very early, not bothered by drinking at the bar or dining on the fast food available in the foyer. I sat at my empty row, sucking a Werthers Original, flicking through Facebook on my phone wondering if any of my FB were in attendance, and then reading a book on my Kindle app. Very rock n roll. 

I was there alone, my wife hating the music of Deacon Blue with a passion. The woman seated on my left arrived with her husband, carrying two half-pint tumblers, handles conjoined. She showed me her OVO Lounge wristband and sang its praises, informing me that the Lounge had its own toilets and the service at the bar was so quick. "It's free you know, so long as you book it. We always do. The couple in front of us hadn't booked and tried to blag their way in but the staff were having none of it." I must have given her a look she interpreted as 'I think this woman is crazy' because she assured me she wasn't drunk. She informed me one of her drinks was water. She wasn't one of those who got drunk and missed half the show. She was too big a fan to do that. Deacon Blue has been an integral part of her life since she was thirteen. She asked me what my favourite song was and I picked one that I could remember (I don't really have one). She told me hers. Though she was chatty, carrying the conversation herself, with me struggling to think of anything to ask, I did actually enjoy talking with her. 

Then the band came on to perform the first set acoustically. The sound was crystal clear and while I didn't know all the songs, I still enjoyed them. The audience remained in their seats so my view was fairly good, though my photos suffered a bit from bonce creepage. 

At the interval, most of my row disappeared to the bar (wristbands). By the time the lights went down again, not all had returned. Then the 'excuse me's' started, as they filtered back. I didn't realise the last person was wanting past, thinking she was the woman who had been on my left, so sat back down. Her indignant excuse me was worthy of Steve Martin causing me to leap back up again, apologising. Obviously, I didn't vocalise my thoughts:  Waddle back quicker, next time, bitch. 

Deacon Blue went on to play another full electric set. Whether it was the old 45s, 55s or 65s, age didn't matter because the songs were timeless. Ricky's voice has a statesman-like quality: clear, precise, and note-perfect and everyone listened. He's got his moves and his stories and we love him for it. He's a Caledonian poet at heart. Lorraine was as bonkers as ever, her voice divine, her spirit demented like the music inhabited her. My view of the part of the stage where she sang was unfortunately eclipsed by a tall bloke in a baseball gap most of the time. 

The woman on my left burned out midway through the show. She'd been singing and dancing and then suddenly sat down, reaching into her handbag for a battery-operated fan. She wafted cool air at her face for a while, then left to go to the toilet and was away for a couple of songs. To her credit, she returned fully energised and continued to gie it laldy for the remainder of the show. 

The band played from 8 pm till 10.45 pm (albeit with a twenty-minute interval and a short break before the encore). What impressed me was how at home they looked on that stage. The light show, the screens, the music and the sing-a-long adulation of the huge audience gave the performance a scale that showed Deacon Blue deserved to be there. They gave us what we wanted and so much more. They might have been bigger in the eighties and nineties but they've matured into a fine outfit that wears well today. A great night!

Setlist  

Set 1 (Acoustic):

Wages Day (acapella first verse)

A New House

She'll Understand

Chocolate Girl

Cover From the Sky

He Looks Like Spencer Tracy Now

S.H.A.R.O.N.

Queen of the New Year

Raintown (James Prime, Lorraine McIntosh and Ricky Ross)

Set 2:

The Hipsters

Wages Day

Bethlehem Begins

Your Swaying Arms

I've Been Making Such a Fool / The Day That Jackie Jumped the Jail

Loaded

Your Town

On Love

When Will You (Make My Telephone Ring) 

City of Love

Twist and Shout

Real Gone Kid

The Believers

That's What We Can Do

Encore:

Peace Will Come

Dignity

Fergus Sings the Blues

Keep Me in Your Heart (Warren Zevon cover) 

Ticket Price: £71.80 inc fees from Ticketmaster (£60 face value)

Ria Lina - Riawakening. The Stand, Glasgow. Thursday 12th October 2033

 

Sometimes a comedian garners a long list of radio and television credits yet remains mostly unknown. Ria Lina is such a comedian (currently). I've long admired her work and was keen to see her perform her first tour show. I even missed my Thursday night writers' group meeting to do so.  

My wife and I arrived at 7.20 pm for a 7.30 pm doors open. There were only five people ahead of us in the queue. Not a promising start. Inside, the staff escorted us to our seats. I noticed the raised area had been blocked off and the entire padded bench row had been marked as reserved. So much for arriving early to snag my favourite spot. I guessed they wanted us to fill the floor tables first. I suspected this was going to be an intimate show. Not as intimate though as a pre-Taskmaster John Kearns' show where they'd curtained off half the room.

With an hour to go before showtime, I queued for drinks at the bar (because they weren't serving them in the toilet) and, as I reached the front, Ria appeared from backstage, clutching an empty plastic cup. Of course, being a gentleman, I insisted the bar staff serve her first. Ria thanked me. She has such a lovely smile. I was buzzing. She must have been too (not from meeting me) as she started to sing quietly along to the upbeat Beatles song that was playing over the sound system, grooving her shoulders to the music.   

As time went on, the venue filled up nicely. They even opened the raised area to accommodate the extra sales on the door so by the time the lights went down, there was a nice buzz about the room. (Or maybe it was just me, still buzzing from meeting her).  

She opened with some gentle crowdwork before introducing her show, about how after eighteen years of marriage, she is now single. She took us on her journey, getting to know her life, her family and her much older ex-husband, whom she married while at Uni (he was a karate instructor, with sixpack abs to die for - only he didn't die, hence the divorce, eighteen years later).   

Ria knows how to craft a joke. She packs her routines with punchlines, sometimes to the detriment of honesty, favouring the gag over truth. Some comedians adopt a persona on stage but I felt this was the real Ria hiding behind her routines. It ran like an extended club set, filled with guaranteed bangers, that stopped short of revealing any vulnerability. This choice may have been deliberate. She is career-minded, focused and determined to be a success. A complete workaholic (not wokaholic, as I initially mistyped, because that would be terribly racist, although she does play the Asian card a lot), she's looking ahead, needing to earn enough money to pay for her care home in later life when she's become her mum, a shrivelled-up Yoda.

After the show, she informed us she would be staying behind for a meet and greet for anyone who would like that, with flyers and posters to sign. I told my wife I'd like to wait. Only, being polite, I sat and waited and watched others move in to be next. My irked wife prodded me to get up and queue otherwise we'd be here all night. Ria was chatting freely with her fans so by the time it was my turn, I was shaking with nerves. She shook my hand and asked me my name. I answered and told her I didn't want a selfie, I'd like a signed flyer instead. As she reached down for one, I admitted I was nervous. She asked what I did and we shared a mutual admiration for our respective jobs. She wrote a lovely dedication. I'm so relieved she didn't ask for a dick pic in return (she has a routine about them before you ask). 

I'm still buzzing from meeting her. 

 

Ticket Price: £15

Blurb:

In the aftermath of a global pandemic, comedian and scientist, Ria Lina has had a Riawakening and sees the world differently. In this, her highly anticipated debut tour, Ria tackles the issues of coming out of a global pandemic, the new normal, divorce, dating in a new digital world, motherhood and what it really means to be a woman today.

Fearless, provocative, and very funny, Ria Lina is the only Filipina comedian in British stand-up and a hugely admired talent in the comedy industry. Her extensive list of credits includes Live At The Apollo, Have I Got News For You, Mock the Week, Lovestruck High, Richard Hammond’s Brain Reaction, House of Games, The Last Leg and Celebrity Mastermind.

Those Damned Crows, "The Takedown Tour". SWG3 Galvanisers, Glasgow. Wednesday 11th October 2023

 

It's not often I go to see a band twice in one year but Those Damn Crows are special live so I wasn't going to miss them. Last time, it was at The Garage in Glasgow and I felt at the time that the venue was too small for them, not just because the audience was packed in so tightly. Their sound and presence seemed bigger than the stage they were performing on. I still felt the same tonight at SWG3 Galvanizers. Although not sold out, with around 800 eager punters in the hall from a capacity of 1250, the stage still seemed too small for them, although the band did make good use of the tiered stage. The night started outside the venue on a chill but dry evening watching the queue dwindle to nothing as we waited for two of our group. They'd decided to come into town early for a bevvy and had lost track of time not realising how far it was to walk to SWG3 from Charing Cross. Meanwhile, not far from us, a helicopter beamed its spotlights down on the Kelvin River, assisting the firemen and other emergency services searching the water for a missing person. Eventually, the pair arrived at 7.40 p.m. (doors opened at 7 p.m.) and we all headed in. The hall in front of the sound desk looked rammed. The others headed to the bar and I waited inside, thinking the night was a bust standing so far from the stage. But the thing is, those uninhibited by alcohol don't mind being a bit pushy, so when they returned with their pints and snaked forward through the crowd, I followed and we found a great view right in the middle. Support act The Cruel Knives were unwatchable. Not because they were unsightly. The problem was with their lighting. It seemed synced to their drumkit so, with every beat, multiple lights blasted the crowd, to the point I had to keep my head down and my eyes shut or else a migraine would have been induced. The music was okay but their guitarist was a bit up himself and the lead singer was too enthusiastic with his sweary crowd encouragement. That's not how you earn a Glasgow audience's respect, mate.  Those Damn Crows played for about an hour and a half and were fantastic. The set was fairly standard with no surprises. I could have done without the drum and bass solo, but the songs were sung well and the music was great. I desperately want to see them in a bigger venue like the Barrowlands so, hopefully, their audience will continue to grow on the back of these live performances.  At the end of the gig, something happened that I've never experienced before. For years, bands have been throwing plectrums and drumsticks into the crowd and I've never been close to being on the receiving end of one. Well, not tonight. I watched as that drumstick arced its way through the air towards me. Bob reached up to snatch it from me but only succeeded in knocking it against Alan's head. I was the first to find it at our feet, holding it aloft like Excalibur, half expecting someone else to grab it from me. But no one did so I kept it. An early birthday present from a delightful band. Thank you very much, Those Damn Crows. Setlist: The Cruel Knives The Life That We Made Overdose Hollow People Black Eye Friday If This Is The End (I've Been a Fool From The Start) All Your Heros Hate You Shotgun to the Head Crawl Those Damn Crows Who Did It Man on Fire Send the Reaper Takedown Find a Way I Am Wake Up (Sleepwalker) Lay It All on Me Drum and Bass solo Waiting For Me Blink of an Eye Go Get It Rock N Roll Ain't Dead Sin on Skin This Time I'm Ready See You Again

 

Waterstones Presents "An Evening with Caro Ramsay, Michael J Malone & Douglas Skelton", PrimaVera Bistro, Newton Mearns. Tuesday 10th October, 2023

Photo trimmed from Waterstones Newton Mearns FB page

As a fan of crime fiction and a friend of Caro, I attended this Waterstones event at the PrimaVera Bistro in the shopping mall, Newton Mearns. It featured Caro with Douglas Skelton and Michael J Malone, promoting their books, The Devil Stone, Children of the Mist and The Murmurs, respectively.

The banter (as we call it in the West of Scotland) was top form, covering a wide range of topics, such as how they got into crime writing and why Scotland is such a good setting for crime fiction. The quiet but substantial, respectful audience enjoyed their hour in the trio's company.

Afterwards, I purchased Michael's book. Why not the other two, you ask? Well, I already have Children of the Mist on my Kindle and own a signed copy of the hardback version of Caro's book.

I have to admit I prefer to read books on my Kindle. I can adjust the font size to accommodate my eyesight, I can look up unfamiliar words using the built-in dictionary and I can still read in bed after my wife has put the bedroom light out. The only downside is the beautiful covers are in black and white on my Paperwhite.

My wife goes nuts when I buy physical books because she knows I rarely read them. We've bookshelves full of signed editions with unbroken spines cluttering her room now that mine is full of other junk. 

In my defence, I like to support the bookshops that host the event because, without sales, they'll go out of business. I'm also encouraging them to keep running the events so I get to hear and meet my favourite authors. Plus, I have a tiny dream that one day I'll see one of my own books for sale in such a place so it is important to keep them open.  

The book is a physical memento of the evening, and getting it signed is a lovely bonus. However, without fail, when it comes to making small talk with an author, I always become tongue-tied.  It’s like I’m suddenly starstruck by this amazing person who has actually written a book and had it published by a proper publisher (in the case of these seasoned authors, multiple times). My brain grasps for information it can’t recall and I struggle to form coherent sentences. What does come out is often embarrassing and unfunny and I want to shrivel into a little ball and roll away. 

After one book event at Bloody Scotland, I once asked AA Dhand if he'd paid his fees yet. In retrospect, I can see why he looked confused. In my head, this was my way of telling him I was a pharmacist too but this was a book event and he was there as an author so why would he expect to receive a pharmacy-related question. It didn't help that, seeing his confusion, I fluffed my follow-up, blabbering on about, you know, that thing with the form and the CPD, unable to remember the terms registration or revalidation.  When eventually he twigged, he said "Ah, you're a pharmacist," like that explained everything. He then answered that he hadn't as they weren't due to be paid till the end of October. I'd just received my reminder that mine were due by the end of September so I told him I thought he was wrong. He was certain he was correct but signed my book anyway and once again I wanted to die. 

It turned out we were both right. There are two deadlines, depending on whether you pay in full or in instalments via Direct Debit.  

My brain went into meltdown again tonight. Michael made every effort to personalise the experience and I floundered, lazy brain kicking in big-style, only half remembering where we'd met before. When I mentioned I was in Caro's writing group, he asked what I was writing and I couldn't remember my pitch for School of Thought, failing to describe it or sell it with any conviction. Nor could I describe the previous aborted work he thought he might have heard of.  

On the drive home, I cogitated over why I couldn't chat like a normal person (beyond the obvious answer of not being normal).

I decided the starstruck thing is definitely true but it might also be due to the pressure of the queue, not wanting to delay another reader from getting their moment with the author. There is also the artificiality of the situation where the author wants to impress his reader but not take too long so everyone can be satisfied. It's something I need to work on. For the moment though, I remain the befuddled, anonymous punter with a signed book sitting on my wife's bookshelf should I ever need to remind myself what my name is.