The Very Best of Texas, OVO Hydro, Glasgow. Saturday 14th September, 2024.

 

The first time I saw Texas was back in 1994 on a triple bill with Horse and Gin Blossoms (ticket price  £9). They were amazing then, and they are even better now.

The Saturday gig, the first of two consecutive nights for them at the OVO, is sold out. We arrive early, skip the drizzle-soaked queue thanks to our OVO Live tickets, and make our way in. The wristband the security person attaches, because we have Standing tickets, snags the little hairs on my arm, but I manage to detach them with a twist without too much discomfort. We hadn't intended to go near the front, but as there was space, we ended up about seven deep from the barrier with a trio of shorter ladies in front of us. There are only a couple of tall gentlemen between us and the stage. The view is excellent.

The stage set up for support act KT Tunstall has a drumkit, guitars, and her usual electronic equipment. On the two occasions we'd seen her before, she'd always played solo, joking that all her band members were from Taiwan. Was this going to be a different style of performance from her? Full band?

Not quite. Andy Burrows, drummer with Razorlight, is accompanying her on the drum kit and various instruments. The new dynamic works well. She's no longer the lone voice expecting us to wait while she builds her loops. The sound is fuller, and her voice is clear and pitch-perfect. She's got the banter, too, to keep us entertained. She's played mashups before, where she morphed her songs into covers/tributes, but tonight, they went down really well with the thunderous crowd. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed her short set.

One person drew my ire with her flip-cover camera. It didn't occur to her that she could flip the phone around, so the flap was below, not above, obscuring less of the show for those behind her. This was a minor irritation, though, as by the time Texas came on, she had already moved over, closer to the middle, away from me.

Setlist: KT Tunstall

I Am the Pilot

Dear Shadow

Other Side of the World / America (mash-up)

The River

Black Horse and the Cherry Tree / Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) (mash-up)

Hold On / Walk Like an Egyptian (mash-up)

Suddenly I See

A curtain drops from the ceiling as the crew clear her equipment. I liked that. It added a sense of theatricality and mystery to proceedings, building the anticipation.

I'm amazed by how many people this close to the stage have dressed for the weather rather than for the show in their puffy jackets and coats. It's Sweat Central where we are.

Bloke at the very front.

When the auditorium lights go down, we're greeted on the curtain by a striking sunrise silhouette of the guitarist as he twangs the opening chords to "I Don't Need a Lover." 

Wow!

The curtain drops, and massive screens showing a desert sunrise dominate the stage, which is split into two levels. The keyboards and drums are on the higher level, with Sharleen, Tony, and Johnny up front.
 

There's that cover flap again.

So begins a glorious evening. The set, as the tour title suggests, is brimming with the very best of Texas, covering the entire span of their thirty-five-year career. Sharleen's voice is incredible, and she looks fantastic. In front of her home crowd, she comments we bring out the very worst and very best in her. Her potty-mouthed banter is refreshing. She reminds us she may be a fucking global pop megastar, but she's still a mum forced to clean up the empty beer bottles after her daughter's party, laughing with the band when said girl, in her English accent, tries to say the word 'Bowffin'. Sharleen has never forgotten her roots.

We were standing so close it felt like we could hear her singing unamplified. The crowd was the loudest I've ever heard at the Hydro (maybe because the ladies around us screamed like they were actually watching Elvis, which wasn't far off at the end of the show). 

When not showing the band, the visuals on the big screen were used well, looping clips from their videos or scrolling across the crowd. It's still freaky to find yourself magnified on the big screen while thinking, "Gawd, you're ugly." 

It was a far better night than I anticipated. Maybe because we were so close. Maybe because the band and the sold-out crowd were so up for it. Either way, it was one of the best gigs of the year, not least because Sharleen still fitted into the Tom Ford-designed Gucci leather jumpsuit that she originally wore twenty years ago.  

Setlist: Texas

I Don't Want a Lover

Halo

Everyday Now

The Conversation

Hi

In Our Lifetime

Tired of Being Alone (Al Green cover)

Keep on Talking

Summer Son

Insane

Let's Work It Out

When We Are Together

Put Your Arms Around Me (acoustic)

Sleep (acoustic)

In Demand (acoustic)

Mr Haze

Black Eyed Boy

Say What You Want

Encore:

Inner Smile

Suspicious Minds (Mark James cover)

Tired of Being Alone

Black-Eyed Boy

Ticket Price:

2 OVO Live Presale Ticket (enter via OVO door) £50.00 x2 £100.00 

Per Item Fees 

£6.75 (Service Charge OVO Live Presale Ticket (enter via OVO door)) x2 

£1.70 (Facility Charge OVO Live Presale Ticket (enter via OVO door)) x2 £16.90 

Order Processing Fees 

Handling Fee (£2.00) £2.00 

Total £118.90 

Kiri Pritchard-McLean "Peacock", Oran Mor, Glasgow. Sunday 8th September, 2024.

I do not like Oran Mor. As a venue, it's seating sucks. They are too small, too close together and are very uncomfortable. Fidgeting is compulsory unless you don't mind getting bed sores on your bum. Tonight was no different, even though this was my first time in the upstairs venue.

I arrived early, not knowing how early. There was an ambiguity. The ticket stated 7.30pm, and the website said 6.30pm, neither making it clear if the indicated time was for doors opening or showtime. I arrived at 6.15pm to be safe. This is what I saw.

No queue

It turns out, though, that I was at the wrong door. I should have been standing here.

Still no queue

By 6.30pm, a few people had gathered, and we all traipsed up the winding stone stairs. The venue was beautifully laid out, with rows of the aforementioned torture devices. I selected a seat in the third row, fourth from the middle aisle. I wanted to sit at an angle in case the person in front had a tall upper body, a massive perm, or had come in a full Marge Simpson costume. This was a Kiri Pritchard-Mclean gig. Anything was possible. 

The front row filled up, as did many others further back, but there were empty seats to my left and right. An overweight woman forthrightly asked me if the seats were taken. I said no, and she plopped herself down right beside me despite there being a more appropriate choice one further over. She had a drink in one hand and a coat over her other arm, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder. She couldn't get comfortable. I got the impression that she thought this was my fault as I did not budge over to allow her the space she required. 

She got up and moved to the row in front. Shifting the seat back four inches to give herself more legroom (eating into my row), she placed her bag and coat on the seat in front of me. She reclined, crossing her leg over her knee, her white flat-soled trainers revealing a partial tattoo on her inner left foot. She finished her drink and then took out a hardback book, "The Best Way to Bury Your Husband" by Alexia Casale, which she read for a time.  

I detect that the music playing is all by female-fronted Welsh artists, such as Duffy, Catatonia, Marina and the Diamonds, and The Joy Formidable. Then, I hear Propellerheads. Are they Welsh, I wonder? I look it up. They are from Bath. Then Shirley Bassey appeared on vocals, and I realised no mistake had occurred. 

We're nearly at showtime, and the woman in front decides to get up. She places the open book face down on her seat and covers it with her jacket. She tells the people beside her not to let anyone take her seat. It's a bold move this close to the start. Is it deliberate, I ask myself, but she returns with another drink before Kiri begins. Settling in again, she pulls forward the chair again so it is in line with the one beside. 

Kiri performs her own warmup for about ten minutes to ease her nerves, she says, because she really wants to nail her show right from the off. She's very proud of it. Then she introduces her support act, Ruth Hunter, a bisexual Dubliner living in Glasgow, who also happens to be six months pregnant. I'm not her demographic, but she did have some lines I found funny.

Then, after an interval, Kiri returns to the stage, now attired in her Peacock jumpsuit, like a Welsh Elvis but with more sequins. As she starts her show—about fostering—I find the man behind me has a laugh so strong I can feel it on the back of my neck. And I don't just mean from the spray coming from his wet mouth. His guffaws are like a cold, repetitive draught. I lean forward, wishing I'd worn a scarf. Don't get me started on the volume of his clapping.   

The show itself is funny, heartfelt, and wicked. Kiri's journey to become a foster parent deserves to be a sitcom, one that could break your heart as much as split your sides. It opened my eyes to the possibility of becoming a non-biological parent.  An idea I quickly shut down and thought, Don't be a silly fecker. You're about to retire. You don't need the stress, regardless of how rewarding fostering might be emotionally and financially. The show itself would have benefitted from being held in a more intimate venue, like The Stand. The high ceiling did somewhat suck away the sound.  

At the end of the show, Kiri indicated she would wait behind to meet anyone who wanted a photo or a chat. I decided against it. I'd been picking up Baby Reindeer vibes from the girl in front after her empty cup fell onto the floor, and she turned around and smiled at me. I did not want to engage with her in any shape or form. You can see how far back her seating position was by the end of the show. 

The space between our rows at the end

Instead, I headed for the car and made my getaway. If she turns up at my place of business and requests a 'private consultation', I'll demand a witness chaperone. Fortunately, I don't have a bus stop within viewing distance of my home. Such is the power of television on my imagination.  

On the way back, I listened to Scarlet Rebels' new album, 'Where the Colours Meet'. It seemed appropriate, given their country of origin.

Ticket Price: £16 plus £2 service fee = £18 from Ticketweb.

The Karma Effect, "Promised Land" Tour, Garage Attic, Glasgow. Thursday 5th September, 2024

After a busy, short-staffed day at work, I wasn't sure how much energy I'd have left for this gig. I quickly munched down my Greggs Mexican Chicken Oval Bite and glugged half a 500ml bottle of Coke Zero, then headed out to join the others who had gathered at The Hengler's Circus, a Wetherspoons pub near the venue. There, I managed to finish off a whole can of Irn Bru (at a fantastically cheap price of only £1.67), restoring my wakefulness for the night ahead.

I had a ticket, an actual paper ticket, so the bouncers waved me in. There are a lot of stairs up to the Attic at The Garage, but my lungs and knees managed it without too much distress. The venue is tiny, only holding a hundred and fifty punters, and it was already busy, with the first band, Battalion of Flies, nearing the end of their set. The sound of BoF is reasonably riff-heavy, which I liked for the short time I heard them. 

Gaps in the audience appeared after they finished, punters heading to the bar or toilet, so we snuck in near the front (or, in Trish's case, at the front). Initially, I felt uncomfortable going so far forward in front of others, but that feeling didn't last long. One of the benefits of being in the company of friends who are already tipsy and don't care.

Austin Gold was a revelation. They had great vocals, tight playing, and proper rock music. They finished with a song that reminded me of Foo Fighters, so that was a big win for me.

Two short young girls slipped in front of us before The Karma Effect took the stage. One was outstandingly gorgeous in a Gemma Arterton way. She was rocking a Tomb Raider vibe with a white Lara Croft vest top and tight trousers, her long brown hair clipped up at the back so it fell over her bare shoulders. There was a risk the rest of this blog would have been about her if I hadn't managed to remember I was here to see The Karma Effect and not to be a perv.

When I saw the band at Maid of Stone, I was unsure about the singer's voice. It was raspy in an end-of-tour tired kind of way, struggling to find power in the upper range. Tonight was similar. It's just how he sings. The big difference, though, was that the sound was so much better here. Their parallels with the musical stylings of Aerosmith were more apparent, too, with the band's walk-on song being Heart's Done Time.

The band had a new keyboard player who coolly rocked at the side in his black fedora and sunglasses. The other young girl seemed totally obsessed with him, shooting videos of him to the exclusion of the rest of the band. Which struck me as odd. At one point, her attractive pal started filming one song, turning the phone from portrait to landscape during the performance. My heart sank. This was how I ruined my recording of one of the Those Damn Crows songs at Maid of Stone. I wanted to point out her mistake but resisted. It was inappropriate and too late. The damage was done.   

Trish had a fantastic time down the front, dancing away, wheeling her frizzy perm in big circles. My mates kept disappearing to the bar, returning with more drinks for themselves and her, which she protested about but still accepted. She was very merry by the end of the night. I usually find someone from the audience to complain about, and tonight, it was them. They were the night's irritation, chatting and carrying on while the band played. That's alcohol for you. On the plus side, they had no qualms about suggesting to Trish she snag the paper setlists from the stage for me. Which she did.

Austin Gold's setlist

The Karma Effect's setlist

After the show, Trish commandeered Liam Quinn, their bassist, to record a cameo for her pal Kerry, who could not attend. It was nice of him to agree. Pity the background noise was so loud.

The two young girls were talking to the keyboard player. After he left, Trish went up to hug them, having bonded with them during the show. This opened an avenue for Bob to start a conversation as is his wont with a drink in him. The keyboard player was the other girl's boyfriend. The one in the Tomb Raider top was originally from London, though she now lived in Glasgow, having moved here ten years ago for work. Christ, I thought. She's in her mid-twenties. 

Anyway, I chipped into the conversation about the problem she would have with her video and recommended she try PowerPoint to switch the orientation to fix it. She looked at me like I was speaking Martian but thanked me for the suggestion. Afterwards, I realised I'd tried to mansplain how she'd used her phone wrong. Well done, idiot! This is why I don't talk to strangers. At least my friends know what I'm like. 

Ticket Price: £12 plus per item fee £2, Processing Fee £1.50, Delivery £2 = £17.50 from Ticketmaster.

Testify

The Promised Land

Bit of an angle on this 

Battalion of Flies

Austin Gold

The Karma Effect

Merch - signed photo £5 
(with the old keyboard player - doh!)