Kira Mac, Spring 2024 UK Tour, Oran Mor, Glasgow. Sat 27th April, 2024

I'm not a fan of Oran Mor as a venue, although, to be fair, I've only ever been there for comedy shows. I despised the cramped seating and level flooring. This would be my first rock gig there.

We started the night with a meal at the bar upstairs. We'd reserved a table and discovered they were strict with reservations. Multiple parties were ordered to vacate tables with reservation signs; no arguments were allowed. Nice! The food was good, too.

Arriving just before the doors opened, the queue was short. Inside, with no frisk, I selected a spot on the balcony with a raised view of the stage. No one would block my view tonight.

The downside to this location was the chatty c*nts who wouldn't stop talking during the support act, Jayler. They are a young band with plenty of energy. Their musical style is definitely influenced by Robert Plant and Led Zeppelin in the hairstyles, clothes and vocal stylings. They sounded really good. The frontman had bags of charisma and confidence for someone so young. Definitely one to look out for.

Kira Mac were good, too. Kira seemed to be struggling with a cough but still gave a great performance, her voice raspy at times, holding back sometimes from the big notes. Not that it stopped her from gabbing away between songs. I preferred their heavier numbers but still enjoyed the show.

I was briefly entertained by a drunk whom I'd initially managed to avoid in the toilets as he staggered back three steps in an attempt to turn to face the exit to the facility. Later, I watched him navigate the steps onto the dance floor while clutching three pints between his hands in a triangle shape. Each step down resulted in more and more of the pints being spilt until he'd eventually lost a third of each by the time he'd reached floor level. Silly bugger. I'm sure he'll remember he had a great night, just not any of the details.   

The distance from the stage and the fuzzy lighting messed with my camera focus, especially with the video settings, so that was a bit disappointing. 

Still, two good bands worth seeing again. 

Setlist

Save Your Whiskey

Dead Man Walking

Chaos Is Calling

Play the Game

No Way Out

Scorned

Imagine What We Could've Been (Kira solo acoustic)

Half the World Away (Oasis cover) (Kira & Joe acoustic)

Back for More (Kira & Joe acoustic)

Say Something (Justin Timberlake feat. Chris Stapleton cover)

Free

You Oughta Know (Alanis Morissette cover)

Hit Me Again

Hell Fire and Holy Water

Never Going to Stay

Mississippi Swinging

Farewell

Climbing

Encore:

Downfall

One Way Ticket

  

Ticket Price: £18. 

Jayler

Video link: Final song of Jayler's set

Video links: Dead Man Walking & You Oughta Know.

Blurb:

Kira Mac, the UK’s hottest rock sensation, is reinventing the classic genre with a modern twist. Their music bursts with the raw power of old-school rock, fused seamlessly with contemporary flair, soulful melodies, and a generous dose of rock ‘n roll attitude.

This dynamic band, a diverse collective of musicians hailing from various corners of the UK, serendipitously crossed paths in the heart of Manchester in 2018. United by a shared passion for crafting authentic music inspired by working-class struggles, they embarked on a journey to create something truly extraordinary.

Kira Mac’s influences span the rich tapestry of rock and diverse musical genres. Their unique talent is honed from grassroots beginnings, rooted in an unbridled love for music’s eclectic and acoustic dimensions.

Fronted by Rhi’s powerhouse vocals and Joe Worrall’s blistering guitar skills, the band delivers a fresh take on rock ‘n roll songwriting and a distinctive sound. Alex and Bret, round out the ensemble, creating an electrifying rhythm and percussion backbone.

Kira Mac is poised to set UK stages ablaze once again, bringing their electrifying sound to festivals and live shows. Brace yourself for a rock revival like no other, led by the unstoppable force that is Kira Mac!

GUN, Intimate Hombres Album Launch Show. St Luke's and the Winged Ox, Glasgow. Friday 26th April, 2024

It was my mammy's birthday today, so I took the day off to take her out for lunch. I won't tell you what age she was, but she has more wrinkles on her face than she has years. 

Then, because I'm getting old, too, I had to have an afternoon nap in preparation for tonight's gig. I did manage to set up and test my new subwoofer before I left, so the afternoon wasn't a complete bust. 

GUN were playing two shows at St Luke's tonight after the first gig sold out. This meant the second show was pushed to start later than originally scheduled. We arrived around 7.45pm for an 8pm doors open, with GUN due on stage at 9pm. The queue was fairly long, already stretching as far as the pavement. Not as long as the queue at the Barrowland for Rob Lambertini ( a popular George Michael tribute act), though. 

I didn't get frisked on the way in, so my initial concerns about having to explain why I was wearing a back brace were unfounded. It was just as well, as I later discovered I had a pair of scissors in my back pocket from when I opened the speaker's packaging. 

As we got to the front of the queue, I overheard the couple in front being told there were seats available upstairs, so we went up, too. We sat on the centre pews at the back, close to the middle, with one pew in front and another behind. Signs on the wall behind the sound desk/VIP area indicated no standing was allowed there, so I figured our view would be fine.

Unfortunately, the people in the pews in front decided they would stand for almost the entire gig, so taking videos was out, and my snaps had to be mostly snatched from between their shoulders.

The lady on the right took umbrage with one cheeky chap when he stood in the corridor in front of her. She leaned across and prodded him on the shoulder, gesturing for him to bugger off. He apologised and sank to his knees to continue videoing the song on his phone from ledge level. Afterwards, when he turned to apologise again, she turned up her nose at him and then smirked at her pal. Not a nice person. I half expected her to breathe fire. She videoed almost every song in portrait but only partially, as if her attention span couldn't tolerate that amount of time.

Crouching Fan, Looming Dragon

GUN were on fire (as I'm contractually obliged to say as a lifelong fan). Actually, they were good, even from my seated position. The venue sound wasn't great, with a lot of distortion. It might have come across better from floor level.  

The band played a number of tunes from the new album, Hombres, as well as the crowdpleasers of old. The new songs are brilliant and earned their right to stay on the setlist for years to come. Dante's voice was a bit rough at times, having completed one set an hour earlier, but he still belted out the songs. I couldn't really make out the banter when Jules spoke because of his quiet mic, which was strange because, at times, the backing vocals almost drowned out Dante.

I stood for Shame On You, the last song before the encore, so I got a couple of uninterrupted snaps while singing my heart out. 

On the way out, I spied Pauline McNally, a former colleague, on the stairs opposite, but she didn't notice me waving (or my anonymity struck again). It's been a while. She still looks great. 

As we walked to the car, I asked my wife if she'd changed her mind about attending the Barrowland gig in December. She smiled. "Yes. I'd like to go. They were good." 

Praise indeed!

Before that, though, I get to catch them at the Maid In Stone Festival in Kent.

Setlist: 

Lucky Guy

Here's Where I Am

Don't Say It's Over

All Fired Up

Better Days

You Are What I Need

Boys Don't Cry

Falling

Take Me Back Home

Steal Your Fire

Shame On You

Encore:

Word Up! (Cameo cover)

Inside Out

Ticket Price: £18.50 inc signed CD (£15 for ticket only).

Official photographer working in our aisle.
I bet his snaps are better than mine.

"Take Me Back Home"

Jim Gellatly and Billy Sloan 

Brian Bilston and Henry Normal, Mackintosh Queen's Cross, Glasgow. Wednesday 10th April, 2024

 

Something a little bit different tonight - Poetry.

I'd seen Henry Normal perform his poetry/stand-up back in the day (later, he formed Baby Cow Productions with Steve Coogan, where he remained as CEO until 2016), but Brian Bilston only came to my attention when posts of his clever poetry started appearing on my Facebook feed. 

I took the day off because the venue, the Mackintosh Queen's Cross, was in a part of Glasgow I wasn't overly familiar with. We left early (very early - 6pm for 7.30 pm doors open), driving through horrendously bad wet road conditions. My satnav confused me by asking me to drive in the opposite direction to the one I expected so it had to reset a number of times due to my belligerence. We still arrived forty-five minutes early. My wife was furious as she'd skipped her post-dinner coffee, thinking we would be late. I maintained the mantra, "But it's UNRESERVED SEATING".

We sat in the car, windscreen wipers clearing away the rain, aircon fighting the steam issuing from my wife's temper, as we waited to see if a queue formed outside the venue. I then noticed people disappearing down the side of the building. My wife remarked they'd been doing that for ages, so we made our way across, getting soaked by the gusts of rain.    

On the main door, a notice indicated to use the side lane. I fretted about how long the queue would be and hoped there was some sort of cover if we were left standing outside.

My worries were unfounded. There was no queue. Instead, inside the back hall, which had been set up as a hybrid waiting area, bar and bookshop, lots of people gathered, waiting for the main doors to open. Henry Normal was at the Waterstones bookstall, chatting to fans and signing books. I didn't know what Brian looked like, but there wasn't anyone else signing, so I figured he was elsewhere. 

Every so often, the crowd would surge to the door only to be told by the staff that the queue that had formed was actually for the toilets. After complaints about the lack of space inside, the venue staff opened the venue doors early, allowing me a moment of smugness for having the foresight to arrive before the advertised time. My wife was still not amused. 

We sat in the second row of pews on the left. Essentially a converted church, the venue had some lovely Mackintosh motifs in its furniture and architecture. Speakers had been set up on either side of the chancel with a microphone and table in the centre. I guessed it was inappropriate for them to perform their comedic work from the pulpit.    

Brian was fantastic. Having written and memorised a humorous script and armed with a raft of wonderfully witty poems, he gave a nuanced performance in which every tightening of the eyes, lip wobble, and momentary hesitation drew a laugh. Superb!

Then came the interval, scheduled to last twenty minutes. This turned out not to be long enough to accommodate all the women needing to use the ladies toilet. At one point, the queue extended back into the Nave. Adding another ten minutes to the break still wasn't long enough, as I noticed a number of women scurrying back to their pews after Henry had begun. Had they been served diuretics at the bar? Or had Brian made them laugh so hard that they needed to replace their Tena pads? I never found out. 

I felt Henry's set was less polished than Brian's. While his poetry was clever and covered a wide range of styles, from funny to childish to political to moving, his performance felt blustery, scrappy even, not just when he dropped his printed sheets onto the floor after use. He's a seasoned performer, and I felt he relied on this experience to get him through his set. Brian was word-perfect, while Henry had less polish.

I didn't take any pictures of either performance. I'd like to say this was to maintain Brian's personal online anonymity, but it didn't feel appropriate to take snaps. I didn't wait to buy an autographed book afterwards. There was a bit of a queue, and I wanted to get home.

The drive back was a nightmare. It was dark, I was unfamiliar with the roads, and the satnav appeared to be in a huff, telling me to 'Turn Now' just after I'd driven past the junction. Then, it took me down roads that were blocked to motor traffic, allowing 'Bicycles Only'. At one point, I nearly crashed into a queue of stationary cars as I tried to figure out where my next turn would be on the screen map, the emergency stop nearly giving my wife whiplash.  

I eventually turned off the satnav on Queen Margaret Drive. She wanted to direct me back to the City Centre, and I thought it would be quicker to use the Clyde Tunnel. Maybe she knew something that I didn't because the chaos didn't stop. I encountered a cyclist riding without lights, a pedestrian hurrying across a crossing in the style of Groucho Marx as if that would protect him from the impact of my bonnet, and then a neighbour reversed out of his driveway directly into my path. 

My wife is still bealing with me due to that early departure. 

I wouldn't rate the view from this box seat

Ticket Price: £22.50 (plus £3.03 booking fee per ticket plus £1.50 transaction fee) from See Tickets.

Blurb

Brian Bilston and Henry Normal appear together for the first time in a show which one critic has described as ‘two people reading some poems’.

Along the way, they will be drawing on their vast catalogue of crowd favourites – and throwing in new poems, to prevent becoming their own tribute bands.

Not ones to overpromise, Brian and Henry are prepared to commit to delivering the greatest poetry show in the history of the world: an evening of poems to be enjoyed, not endured.

Brian Bilston has been described as the Banksy of poetry and Twitter’s unofficial Poet Laureate. With over 200,000 followers on social media, Brian has become truly beloved by the online community.

Henry Normal is a writer, poet, TV and film producer, founder of the Manchester Poetry Festival (now the Literature Festival) and co-founder of the Nottingham Poetry Festival.

Recommended age: 14+. Please note that this performance contains some swearing and light sexual references.

Duration: approx. 2 hours 20 mins (incl. interval)

Tommy Tiernan, "Tommedian" Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow. Saturday 6th April, 2024

This was the email I received prior to the event:

We're getting in touch with a reminder that the Tommy Tiernan show on Saturday, 6 April 2024, is a PHONE-FREE event. Here's some further information for you:

THIS EVENT IS A PHONE-FREE SHOW

WHAT IS A “PHONE-FREE SHOW”? Just as it sounds. Use of phones/digital devices will not be permitted in the performance space.

HOW DOES IT WORK? Upon arrival at the venue, Yondr (the phone-pouching company hired to do this) will have staff available to help you put your phone in a lockable pouch which you keep throughout the night. There will be ticket writers on site to assist if you had a mobile ticket on your phone. If you have reserved seating please take note of your Block, Row and Seat Number from your digital ticket before you arrive at the venue.

WHAT IF I HAVE AN EMERGENCY AND NEED TO ACCESS MY PHONE? You can unlock your phone from the pouch at any time by going to the clearly marked ‘Phone Use Area’ located within the venue. Please see any usher or Yondr staff if you need help finding it.

WHAT ABOUT BARS OR MERCHANDISE? Please bring your physical credit/debit card with you for use at the bar/concessions in the venue.

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS & IS IT MANDATORY? Yes, it is mandatory. We’re convinced this makes for a better show for everyone involved. Our eyes open a bit wider, and our senses are slightly more heightened when we lose the technology crutch we’ve become accustomed to. And yes, it’s a non-negotiable deal.

I expected carnage with a huge queue of people around the block outside the theatre waiting to have their phones pouched. Instead, we found entry slick and fast, with slight security and no one questioning whether we had a phone as we bypassed the Yondr table and headed up the stairs. It did look odd, though, to see so many people entering the auditorium delicately clutching their pouches, unsure what to do with them.  

My wife asked me, "What if someone's phone isn't switched off and it rings? They can't open the pouch to turn it off." 

I smiled. "Wouldn't that be amusing!" 

Disappointingly, it never happened. (We left our phones at home). 

There are two empty seats on my left, despite the show being a sell-out. I speculate as to why: a sudden illness, a death in the family, a break-up involving one partner throwing out the other for spending all their time at work. Not that I'll ever find out. I enjoyed the extra room, though, being able to lean across without encroaching on someone else's space.  

The auditorium lights go down, a spotlight beam illuminates the microphone stand, and Tommy walks onto the stage without fanfare or introduction. Taking a moment to soak up the adulation from both sides of the audience, he then moves the stand out of the spotlight and takes the microphone. He makes a gleeful remark about us not having our phones, and we're off. 

Garbed all in black, topped with a woollen fisherman beanie hat, he stands before us as the Feral Philosopher King taking the stage to share his craic. He doesn't want anything to distract us from his craft. His pacing is measured and thoughtful, his language vulgar and forthright. He prowls the stage delivering his stories, digressing as the will takes him. He starts by acting out the many singing styles of Bob Dylan's career, then moves on to a story of a murdering paedophile on Death Row. He performs the condemned man's emotional final speech, delivered in front of both his family and the bereaved parents of his victims. He relates how he found Jesus at the end and how God has forgiven him for his sins. He believes he'll soon be up in Heaven, reunited forever with the babies he took from the people in front of him. Only this time, he knows better than to touch them. A dark and delicious punchline I hadn't seen coming. 

His tale about ordering a room service breakfast to his hotel bedroom and then fretting about how he'd look, a decrepit fifty-four-year-old Irishman in pyjamas, to the poor girl bringing him his food flies off wildly into his imagination. He figures she must have seen it all but then questions what she hadn't seen. He imagines a scenario where she finds him in bed with a woman, then two women, then triplets because why not, it's his fantasy. But what would he do with three women in bed at the same time? He then acts out what he'd have to do to satisfy them all, amending their positions to his tastes. His choice of phrasing is hilarious (the phrase, "her massive, three-gallon titties," stuck in my mind for some reason).

He rails at the accusation of him being offensive, for these are jokes, and offence is entirely in the ear of the beholder. He starts a story about a man with Down Syndrome and immediately berates us for not trusting him to make the joke about the situation, not the person. He tells us he was once scolded by a man in a small village in rural Ireland, who could not be convinced that the Down's Syndrome Association had seen and vetted the joke, dismissing his claim with a what would that lot know. There's delight in Tommy's eyes as he tiptoes along the safe side of the line. 

Despite claiming not to be into music, he manages to sing Ian Dury's Spasticus Autisticus while dancing energetically as he would have done at the school disco and then later gets the entire audience to participate in a rendition of The Eurythmics' Sweet Dream (Are Made of These) in his closer about performing for Prince Charles at his fiftieth birthday concert (they'd been on before him). That night, he brought the house down with his joke, and tonight, he did so again. Show over, he leaves the stage, his job done.    

As the auditorium lights signal it's time to leave, I rise from my seat, and my back twinges, bordering on spasm. Hobbling along the row, I notice a large woman in the row in front, walking as if she has one leg shorter than the other. I realise my gait looks similar to hers. As we reach the stairs, I am right behind her, and it now looks like I am mimicking her movement. Whenever the line halts, she turns around. To onlookers, it must appear that I'm trying to avoid her catching me doing an impression of her. 

My wife and I then walk back to the car along the ripped-up, pedestrianised Sauchiehall Street, past empty shop unit shutters that have become a canvas for unartistic graffiti and homeless beggars huddled in the shadows of shop doorways. We passed many girls of all ages heading for a night out in Glasgow. I quickly realised the amount of clothing the women wear is directly related to their age. The young ones are practically naked, while the older ones have sensible layers to keep them warm. I can't decide if the young ones believe they have more to flaunt or if the older ones just want the men to work harder to get them undressed. Not that it matters to me. The only woman I'm taking home tonight is my wife. If my back doesn't ease off, I'll need her assistance to remove my socks. This is what foreplay has become. She's asleep before I come to bed.

This is what a night of comedy from Tommy Tiernan does to a man but it's still brilliant craic.

Ticket price: £70.55 (inc all fees) direct from The Pavilion Theatre.

Tour blurb:

Tommy Tiernan’s brand new show, Tommedian, is a fun-fueled trip through the comic imagination of one of the best comedians in the world.

This is a wild, uninhibited and fiercely physical display of stand up. A madcap parade of characters, memories and ridiculous flights of fancy. Theatrical, poetical and slightly unhinged…. DON’T YOU DARE MISS IT !!!

Tiernan’s legendary record-breaking ticket sales extend across the world. The Star of Channel 4’s hit show Derry Girls and Live at the Apollo (BBC) and the host of his own highly critically praised improvised chat show on Ireland’s RTE 1.

The Hives, The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons Tour 2024. Barrowland Ballroom, Glasgow. Monday 1st April, 2024

I was offered a ticket to this sold-out gig after two friends mixed up who was buying, resulting in a spare. I had heard of the band but was not familiar with their work, but my friend promised me they were amazing live. With no work the next day, why not? 

Prior to the gig, a few of us went for dinner at Bar SOBA, an Asian fusion street food restaurant in the Merchant City area of Glasgow, a short walk from the Barrowland. I had Yakisoba as my main and Mochi Balls for dessert. The latter seemed aptly named, as they had the texture of ice cream stuffed into a bull's testicle, albeit a mock one. I'm not sure I'd order it again.

The rain drizzled as we headed to the venue, now joined by Doug, the fourth member of tonight's troupe. After a brief security frisk, we headed inside, checked out the merchandise, and then went upstairs to the dancefloor, only to find all the rear barrier spaces taken. We stood near the fire doors at the back.

Support act Bad Nerves plays what they describe as fast music, reminiscent of The Ramones. It wasn't unpleasant or overly engaging, but the audience at the front went mad for them, jumping about and pumping their fists in the air. It wasn't really my thing.

As their set finished, so did my painkillers. My back twinges started up, and I began to wonder if I was going to survive the night standing. I knew Bob had accessibility access seats available to him and wondered if that might be the less painful option for me. Doug noticed me eyeing the seats and suggested we both make use of them (he'd had back problems, too, after a rugby injury). The security person guarding access to this section took some persuading to let us in, as Bob's Ticketmaster tickets didn't specifically mention 'accessibility', but he pointed out the pricing indicated he had access. She eventually relented and opened the barrier to let the two of us in. By this point, I didn't need to act about how much pain I was in as I climbed the steps, grasping the handrail like it was a crutch.

The Accessibility platform is probably not the best location to experience The Hives, but I have to say, situated above head height, the view was excellent. The seating is quite cramped, but at least no one expects you to stand when they want past to go to the bar or toilets.  

If I thought the crowd was mad for Bad Nerves, it went up to the max when The Hives took the stage. Their frontman, Howlin’ Pelle, was in total control, whether it be making the crowd put their hands in the air, clap their hands or swing their arms from side to side. He was all over the stage, from side to side, flicking his microphone cord so it didn't get tangled, jumping on and off the risers and down to the audience, leaning over to slap their hands, nearly falling in a couple of times. His banter has the force of a Swedish Hitler (only with more humour and less intention to invade Poland), berating the audience for not being loud enough on his command. Even when he loses his train of thought, he delivers it with such power you can't help but love him for it. I didn't like the way he kept spitting on the stage, though, but maybe that's what they do in Sweden, like a dog leaving his scent.

While Pelle is the definite centre of attention, he is only one part of the band. Each member stands out musically and individually despite being costumed similarly. Their music is powerful and driven, the drums, bass, and guitars coordinating to increase our heart rate, and I would have loved to bounce about in that crowd. At the end, the band took their bows to the Carly Simon track "Nobody Does It Better." On tonight's evidence, I'd have to agree. 

Ticket Price: £38.50.

Video Link Bogus Operandi

Video Link: Hate to Say I Told You So

Video Link: Tick Tick Boom 

Setlist

Bogus Operandi

Main Offender

Take Back the Toys

Two Kinds of Trouble

Rigor Mortis Radio

Walk Idiot Walk

Good Samaritan

Go Right Ahead

Stick Up

Hate to Say I Told You So

Trapdoor Solution 

I'm Alive

Bigger Hole to Fill

Die, All Right!

Won't Be Long

Try It Again

Countdown to Shutdown

Encore:

Come On!

Smoke & Mirrors

Tick Tick Boom 

Outro music

Nobody Does It Better (Carly Simon)

One of the Ninja Roadies on percussion