Stereophonics "Oochya! Tour 2022", OVO Hydro, Glasgow. Monday 21st March 2022

A Monday night gig is rarely an exciting prospect but this was Stereophonics so after some persuasion I managed to convince my wife we should go. This also meant we didn't get seats together but they were relatively close on the same row in block 212 upstairs so it wasn't too bad.

We missed the start of KT Tunstall's set. She played solo with her guitar, busking like a Scottish (and less ginger) Ed Sheeran, building up her loops on her equipment before launching into each song. She experienced a few technical issues with her microphone mid-set and had to jam while the sound engineer sorted it (after a couple of goes). The highlight for me was when she cleverly morphed Black Horse and the Cherry Tree into Sweet Dreams are Made of This in tribute to her Queen of Scotland, Annie Lennox. Her cover of Pick a Part That's New by Stereophonics fell a bit flat but otherwise, she performed well in her function to warm up the crowd. She gives good banter.

By the time Stereophonics took the stage, the empty row behind me had filled with a troupe of glammed up Glasgow blondes (and their partners), ready to party, tongues suitably lubricated. They did use them to sing but unfortunately also to squawk those important conversations during the quieter numbers.  They were so loud I think Kelly could hear them from the stage, his brow permanently knotted in serious songwriter mode. In fact, I only noticed his face lighten once when the drummer donned a saltire flag thrown by a fan.

The band played more of the new album than I expected, the new songs not always justifying their place in the set. This made for an uneven gig. I noticed more people exiting for the bar/ toilet during the quiet numbers on top of the aforementioned increase in chatting behind me. However, when the band rocked or played the sing-a-long classics, they couldn't be beaten. My favourite song from the night was The Bartender and the Thief which rocked the end of the main set.

The lady on my right seemed to enjoy herself. From the off, she was swaying in her seat like a Weeble, elbows tucked in, tiny hands waving from side to side. The more she rolled, nudging me with her shoulder, the more I wanted to erect a perspex screen between us. When she got particularly excited I feared for my eyes, her fingers penetrating my field of vision like a Bonzai tree bending in a strong breeze. I could have moved to sit with my wife as there were two empty seats beside her but I feared the ticket holders would arrive late and I'd be forced to move back. 

The fellow in the tight, white, short-sleeved shirt accompanying the blondes also provided some entertainment, insisting on dancing on the stairs with his pint tumbler much to the chagrin of the elderly G4S woman who couldn't persuade him to remain in his seat. The way he busted his moves down the stairs then went into reverse when she appeared gave me a right laugh. 

Overall, a good night for a Monday.

Ticket Price: £57.50 plus £9.00 service fees. Total per ticket £66.50

Setlist - Stereophonics

Do Ya Feel My Love

C'est la vie

I Wanna Get Lost With You

Hanging On Your Hinges

Geronimo

Maybe Tomorrow

Right Place Right Time

Fly Like an Eagle

All I Have Is You

Show Me How

Leave the Light On

Superman

Traffic

A Thousand Trees

More Life in a Tramp's Vest

Billy Davey's Daughter

Mr Writer

Running Round My Brain

Mr and Mrs Smith

Have a Nice Day

Forever

Handbags and Gladrags (Mike d’Abo cover)

The Bartender and the Thief

Encore:

Just Looking

Make Friends With the Morning

Dakota

    

Stewart Lee: "Snowflake / Tornado", King's Theatre, Glasgow. Tuesday 15th March, 2022

Two shows for the price of one as Stewart performed two one-hour sets (with an interval). 

At the start, dressed in a dark suit with a grey shirt and thin black tie, he addressed the elephant in the room, namely him. He's put on a lot of weight, is going deaf (hearing aids), blind (in that he now needs glasses) and is losing his hair. He has a paunch that resembles mine if I tuck my shirt in and the image is disconcerting to me as I still remember him best from that show at the Stand where he vomited into the gaping anus of Jesus. He was thinner then (maybe because of the vomiting). 

The first half, Tornado, is about how Netflix attached the wrong description to his Comedy Vehicle series. He gains a lot of mileage out of repetition (as is his schtick) and comments about how the laughs are equal in quantity to the previous night but are just in different places. He asks the audience a question at one point and receives the correct answer the first time. Not what he was expecting so he rails comedically at the punter for spoiling a future routine where two responses were necessary as the person should have known as he saw the show the previous night. This launches him into a sidetrack which gives the set some edge as he plays on the fact that he's going to have to work out a new punchline to that routine while delivering the rest of the material. He finishes on an Alan Bennett impression and a prop, which he says has cost him a fortune storing over lockdown for a two-second joke. 

On its own, this was a strong hour (better received than last night he admits) but we still had Snowflake to go.

This time, he appeared on stage in a T-shirt and oversize denim shirt. This set was based around an article in GQ magazine by Tony Parsons where the music journalist labelled Lee as a misogynist. Lee dissected the comments at great length to defend himself, also explaining wokeness along the way and taking pops at American comics such as Dave Chappelle. He also demonstrated in extended detail how Ricky Gervais would say the unsayable if he did it properly. I actually thought he was going to vomit such was his commitment to his guttural utterings.  

I didn't feel this half was as strong as the first but then I was starting to feel sleepy. The room was warm and I had a couple of elbow twitches where I realised I was nodding off. Stewart's voice can sound quite melodic when he's not making devil voices or sounding like he's got a verbal disability. He finished with a song on his guitar with prop snow falling on him while the room was illuminated by a glitterball.  

The traffic on the way home was a bitch, probably exacerbated by my weariness. The motorway on-ramp was shut so I took a detour through the Clyde tunnel, which was single lane and full of potholes. The rain turned heavy on the other side and I realised my access to the M8 was closed here too and I was forced to take the diversion along the road through Govan parallel to the motorway. Then every traffic light changed from red to green just as I put the handbrake on as I entered Paisley. And so time got stretched to breaking just like Lee's routines. 

Larry Dean, "Fudnut", King's Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 13th March, 2022

Larry is a quality comedian and this was an entertaining night. He's built a strong stage persona, that of a gay Glasgow funny man, carrying the spirit of Billy Connelly about him in the way his stories veer off on tangents while demonstrating a comic physicality with sharp killer lines. He's adept at accents and even does a few impressions (showing us the difference in styles between Kevin Bridges and Billy Connolly, with Kermit, Miss Piggy and Gollum also getting a look in). 

He came on first to warm us up, bringing with him his interpreter for the deaf. He made some comic mileage out of her presence playing on her need to sign his material regardless of how rude it was. To a lesser comedian, it could have been hack but Larry's cheeky twinkle pulled it off (I'm signing the expression for male wanking but with my pinkie). 

He then introduced his support act, Jack Campbell, an Englishman from Oxfordshire but living in Leicester, who nailed a good twenty minutes of material and interestingly had his own interpreter for the deaf. 

During the interval, as we were on the end of a row in the stalls (second from the front), we had to rise frequently to allow other attendees in and out. It happened so often I began to feel like I was in a gym class where I'd forgotten to hang up my jacket. I got to wondering if it would be more cost-effective for the theatre to install alcohol taps on the seats, with different buttons on the pump for beer, cider, wine or spirits. This would allow the thirsty to use the self-service bar without the need to bother an entire row. I then considered extending this idea further by introducing commode seats, whose flush would either be silent or remain inactive during the performance. Ushers could sell expensive, mini toilet rolls to add to their roster of confection selection. 

One young lady in a slinky black dress, whom I didn't mind standing up for (pinkie sign), brushed past us three times during the interval, pausing on the third occasion to offer us a personal apology. She'd realised she'd left her mother's credit card behind in the toilet (!).    

Now I'm left wondering if the King's is now charging women to use the ladies and if my commode idea has legs after all. One swipe to pay, one swipe to clean... 

Where was I again? Abu Dhabi...            

Derren Brown, "Showman". Kings Theatre, Glasgow Tuesday 8th March, 2022

Derren politely requested that reviews not contain any details of the show. So I won't. Not because he tricked me (as far as I know) but because it's worth seeing unspoilt by advanced knowledge. 

I can say I don't know how he does what he does; I was astounded, moved and entertained by the show; and follow his social media beforehand if you are going. Though not essential (I didn't) it does add another element to proceedings.

I can also say there is an interval, the Queen Elizabeth Hospital was lit up in Blue and Yellow to show solidarity with Ukraine (not part of the show) and Audi owners have no respect for people parking on a slope when they keep their headlights on in the space behind. Thank heavens for parking sensors.

Derren makes the unbelievable happen and it is very definitely worth seeing. If you can get a ticket, do go or else you'll regret it for the rest of your life (which is either clever marketing or he did get inside my head).

  

Texas, "30th Anniversary of Southside", OVO Hydro, Glasgow.

This, for me, was very much a gig of two halves. The show started at 8pm. Texas performed two sets, firstly playing their debut album, Southside, in its entirety, then returning for a full show of their new stuff and greatest hits. In essence, Texas were their own support act. 

I didn't enjoy the first half. Even though we'd arrived at 7.30pm, we didn't get in on time. The queues were horrendous. It took forty minutes to get inside the venue by which time the lights were down, the band were on stage and Sharleen was mocking us for not checking what time the gig started. Cheeky bitch. 

It was a low key set, which the band performing seated. Between songs, Sharleen, dressed in her original denim jacket from back in the day, recounted stories from that time, occasionally sipping tea.

We pitched up at the very back of the hall unable to see where to go to get any closer. It felt like hell. On one side were the screeching banshees who chattered louder than the band, and the girlie selfie-takers, who constantly posed in various group combinations. On the other were the retirees who needed the comfort of checking their phones to ensure the Grim Reaper hadn't WhatsApp'd them to informed them their time was up. Early on, my temper simmering, I asked my wife if she was okay hoping she'd say no because I was so up for leaving. Crap view, shit surroundings and a third class experience. My shoes were even ripping from the floor like Velcro every time I moved my feet.

When the lights went up, we made our way to a more comfortable spot in the middle of the crowd giving ourselves a far better view. My wife informed me I'd knocked someone's cone out of their hand on the way through. I was oblivious to this and subsequently fretted about what I'd done. I wondered if I should find her and offer compensation. When I made this suggestion to my wife, asking if she could identify the person, I got a strange look. I figured she thought I was being stupid (a frequent occurrence) so I left it.

The carefully selected view was, of course, ruined by a six-foot-two lad who settled in front of us. Fortunately, his girlfriend was four-foot-six so my view was restored every time he bent down to talk to her. 

Texas's main set was excellent. Sharleen may be a potty mouth but she's Glasgow through and through and the crowd loved her banter. The set had the right amount of light and shade finishing with a burst of uptempo numbers including their favourite cover, Suspicious Minds. 

It could have been a brilliant night if it hadn't been for the experience outside trying to get in. At least it wasn't raining and I'm glad I stayed for the whole show.

On the way back to the car, I asked again about the woman with the ice cream cone. My wife corrected me. "I didn't say cone. I said phone. You knocked her phone out of her hand. She was absolutely livid." She then reassured me, "You didn't break it though." That's a relief. 

Setlist

Southside

Intro (Southside)

I Don't Want A Lover

Tell Me Why

Everyday Now

Prayer for You

Faith

Thrill Has Gone

Fight the Feeling

Fool for Love

One Choice

Future Is Promises

Hi

Halo

Summer Son

Hi

In Our Lifetime

You Can Call Me

Let's Work It Out

When We Are Together

Unbelievable

In Demand

Mr Haze

Inner Smile

Say What You Want

Encore:

I Don't Want A Lover

Black Eyed Boy

Suspicious Minds (Mark James cover)

Checking Twitter while still outside the venue

The view from the back

Not dead yet

Southside stories

John Bishop, "Right Here, Right Now" Tour, OVO Hydro, Glasgow. Saturday 19th February, 2022

It's not often I go to a comedy gig and am more amused by the audience than the comedian. And when I say the audience I mean the couple sat beside me. Not that John or his support act, Ray Bradshaw, were unfunny. Their material was a bit over-familiar but it still ticked the comedy boxes. It's just that the performance of the two beside me eclipsed that of the main man.

They arrived sharing the easy familiarity of two people who were obviously a couple, each clutching two half-pint tumblers of some coloured alcoholic liquid (I don't know what), I was sitting at the end of a row so got up to let them in. She was bulging out of a needlessly lowcut dress. I say needless because she'd already pulled so why did she feel the need to distract him from her face, behaviour and personality? It may even have fitted her once. He was in smart casual clothing, in no need to impress, and had the kind of tufty haircut that won't be necessary in a few years time once his male-pattern baldness catches up with the rest of his head.  

They settle down with their drinks and she pulls out her phone for the obligatory selfies. Then she Whatsapps a message to someone, her fingers lightning-fast, producing swathes of emojis in each sentence like they were an integral element of the English language. By now, the lights are down and John's on stage, sitting on a chair. His material is mostly about relationships and ageing and it seems apt for him to be sitting. Still, she types away, the glow of her screen muted due to a dark background. Eventually, she puts the phone away and plays catch up with her laughs, exaggerating how funny she finds John between sips of her drink. 

Then he needs the toilet. We both have to get up to let him out and again afterwards to let him back in. Then she needs the toilet. Lots of apologies directed at me as I have to rise again.

Later in the show, I notice her wriggling in her seat. She's pulling uncomfortable faces then wraps the bag strap around her tiny purse and leans across to apologise again, her words ever so slightly slurring. This time I twist round rather than stand up. 

As she staggers back, her heels higher than her head can cope with, her partner has to shout to remind her where her seat is. She isn't wearing the jacket she left with. I remain silent on the matter. None of my business. She flops back down into the seat.

The man, slightly inebriated, begins to repeat John's punchlines after he's told them. She, with surprise, giggles, "Is that what he said?" and laughs hysterically. He takes a picture on his phone of John on stage, forgetting to switch off the flash then checks how it turned out. No having to go to the chemist to get it developed, these days, as John might have remarked. 

Then she gets the drunken hiccups.

I count the Mississippi's. It's every five seconds. It's so loud my wife in the row in front can hear her. The general apologies start, often interrupted by another hiccup. He suggests she hold her nose and breath. They continue to chat like it's an episode of Gogglebox. By this time, I'm only half-listening to John. They both laugh at his material about not knowing how to behave when you're out because it's been so long we've all forgotten. 

The sad thing is they turned an otherwise ordinary night (sorry John) into something memorable. I need to get out more.  

Ticket Price: £47.50 plus £6.40 service charge. Total £53.90 each.

Mark Thomas "50 Things About Us", The Stand, Glasgow. Wednesday 16th February, 2022.

I don't normally book tickets to see a comedian twice on the same tour but because of the Ticketmaster debacle, I didn't think I was going to get to see him in Stirling. I went alone, this time because my pal tested positive for coronavirus. The Stand has a Covid policy to refund tickets in this situation so I'll get my money back on the unused ticket. 

Tonight's show was even better than the one at The Macrobert Arts Centre, despite essentially being the same material. The Stand is a proper comedy club with a better atmosphere. You feel closer to the comedian, seeing every bead of sweat as he performs his set. This also means he can see you, which was unfortunate for the numpty at the front who decided to take out his phone to send a text at the start of the second half. Mark politely ripped him apart for being rude to him and everyone around him. There were some quality heckles from the crowd ("Get out, get out, get out", a reference to one of Mark's jokes, and "Millions", a callback to a previous heckler whom Mark had handled with practised aplomb).  

The material seemed tighter tonight, even though he was perplexed that there were no diabetics in the crowd, in Glasgow, the chip capital of the world. I was primed ready with answers to obscure questions he asked last time but he'd trimmed that particular section so I didn't win a badge. He still gave us his Barry Cryer anecdotes but this time placed them near the end of the set and closed not on a gag about his shirt (different to the one above) but on one about his mum.  

I bought his book during the interval and got him to sign it after the show. I was too nervous to start a conversation except to say I also saw him in Stirling. At least now I can say I met one of my comedy heroes.  

Ticket Price: £15 each (no additional fees).