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A Man Who's At Loggerheads With His Past All The Time

So Lee Mavers is knocking around with Pete Doherty:



The La's were absolutely fantastic...and that album is similarly *absolutely fantastic*; proof positive that Lee Mavers is absolutely one of our greatest songwriters. He hates it, of course, *that* album, believing its production not up to the quality of the songs. I dare say that in some instances he has a point, but for me, it's about the quality of the songs... not the quality of the production. And besides, great music, like Mavers', will survive almost any treatment.

As a fan, I am on the one hand encouraged by this latest foray into the limelight. I held high hopes for the 2005 resurfacing, but it wasn't to be; if this showing means he's recording new material, and is maybe getting back in the game, then I'll be delighted. On the other, though, if all he's going to do is waste his time with *that* hopeless twat, reducing himself to nothing more than a cultural rock 'n' roll signifier ... well the notion is so depressing that I can't even bring myself to contemplate it.

The Zutons at Delamere Forest, 13.6.08

“This is for all you beautiful forest people”

It’s that time of year again: the confines of walls and roofs have become too much for artists to bear; festival season is just getting going, and promoters are looking for ever more innovative solutions to keep the party rolling. And so we have The Forest Tour. Now about five years old, this series of gigs across a number of (you guessed it) UK forests has previously been adorned by the likes of Ian Brown, Jools Holland, Pet Shop Boys and The Charlatans. This year sees Crowded House, Elbow and KT Tunstall join the fun, along with The Zutons - tonight bringing their effervescent pop / rock noise to Cheshire’s vast Delamere Forest.

‘Zuton Fever’ gets things going, its blend of trebly guitars, pummelled drums and blaring saxophone setting the tone before the band launch into ‘Don’t Ever Think’ and ‘Why Won’t You Give Me Your Love’. For these - and for much of the rest of the set - The Zutons are supplemented by Austin Murphy (of Edgar Jones’s band) on saxophone, which has the dual benefit of freeing Abi Harding up for backing vocals and more notably bolstering the band’s distinctive horn sound. ‘What’s Your Problem’ and ‘Bumbag’, from their recently released You Can Do Anything are warmly received but it’s as the sun fades over this idyllic setting that the country-tinged debut album offerings ‘Confusion and ‘Remember Me’ really grab the crowd’s attention. The sight moves Dave McCabe to proclaim his audience “beautiful forest people” – something he goes on to do with annoying frequency throughout the rest of the night. Hard to know what’s going on here; from where Gigwise is standing the audience is largely hampered by pissed-up late-thirtysomethings sucking on wine boxes and doing mid-life-crisis dancing to an imagined early ‘90s Madchester soundtrack. He’s either oblivious, or perhaps The Zutons front man views this curious tribe of “beautiful forest people” more in the same way somebody like J.R.R. Tolkien might. Who knows?

‘Put A Little Aside’ is tucked in behind ‘It’s The Little Things’ ahead of the pulsing ‘Harder and Harder’ the band cleverly breaking up the newer material so as to let the more familiar songs absorb them. A clearly smitten McCabe then dedicates the next song, ‘Dirty Rat’ to a cute little be-spectacled girl wearing pink. Dedicating a song with the refrain “you’re just a dirty rat” to a minor, though, was never Dave’s best idea and realising his error he humbly apologises and coyly promises to make it up to her later. And so after a storming ‘Pressure Point’ the little girl gets her song, ‘Valerie’. Not that this wasn’t always a Zutons crowd-pleaser, its recent Winehouseification probably accounts for about twenty percent of tonight’s audience (no doubt the “beautiful forest people”) and so gets the crowd whipped to a climactic frenzy. She, the little girl, will be popular at school next week. Recent glam rock single ‘Always Right Behind You’ leads into the break before the band returns to encore with ‘Hello Conscience’ and a drawn-out and ecstatically received ‘You Will You Won’t’.

Most of the new songs played tonight are subtler and possibly lacking in colour when compared with some of the older material. Further there are some notable omissions; ‘Little Red Door’ from the new album would have been interesting, as would have ‘Tired of Hanging Around’ and ‘Oh Stacy (Look What You’ve Done)’ from the last. But all that said, three albums in, The Zutons now boast an impressive canon to choose from, and they know what works as a set. Rejuvenated by new blood Paul Molloy and the complimentary saxophone of Austin Murphy (if he’s sticking around?) The Zutons look set for a great summer playing the festivals.

The Wombats @ Manchester Apollo, Thursday 29th May 2008

This gig will be the last of The Wombat’s current UK tour. We know this because the band’s front man, Matthew Murphy tells us repeatedly throughout the set. Hard to know whether this disclosure is supposed to encourage the audience to give that bit more in return – you know, in recognition of all the band’s hard work over the course of a month; or whether it’s an insecure olive branch for anybody potentially not about to be blown away by proceedings. Whatever, first up is the A capella ‘Tales Of Girls, Boys & Marsupials’, followed closely by a lively ‘Kill The Director’. There’s a fast-paced rummage through some crowd-pleasing album tracks like ‘School Uniforms’ and ‘Party In A Forest (Where’s Laura)’; all jagged pop edges bouncing off the glassy veneer of their ‘80s LO-FI ‘laser’ show (some green fluorescent tubes, essentially). Then Murphy’s off, telling us all about how emotional this last gig of the UK tour is, and as if to prove the extent of their emotional turmoil, The Wombats then crank out the panto rock ‘Here Comes The Anxiety’. Mercifully, it’s not long before the largely teenybopper audience gets what it came for came for. ‘Moving to New York’ is brilliantly executed, full of the arch pop bite the band seems to be establishing as its trademark: and what’s more, this audience - they’re good kids - so when Murphy tells them / threatens them they’d better dance – they dance. As ‘Patricia The Stripper’ nears its last, Murphy makes the between-song gaff, telling the audience about an amazing night he’d had watching Interpol at this venue. Not wise to put a great band in people’s heads only seconds before launching into the Oom-pah Lederhosen awfulness of ‘Little Miss Pipedream’. The set closes with a blistering ‘Lets Dance to Joy Division’, after which the arrival of an 8ft inflatable Wombat (doing the Pink Floyd thing, suspended above the crowd) keeps the crowd entertained in the band’s absence. This welcome addition stays in place for the encore of ‘My First wedding’ and ‘Backfire at The Disco’, and then it’s all over: Mums & Dads start arriving at the back, eager to whisk their young wombats off home for some WKD and E4.

It’s not a bad night’s work for The Wombats: their handful of singles and a few decent album tracks are exciting enough, and it’s an adrenalized performance. They need more great songs, but as we’re still on album one(ish), we shouldn’t hold this against them. What does let them down, though, is the fact that on this evidence, on this night, their front man has virtually no stage presence. And when said front man insists on an inordinate amount of between-song banter, this can really start to grate. Maybe earlier on in the tour it wasn’t a problem.

Their festival tour starts next week.

The Wombats at Manchester Apollo, Thursday 29th May 2008

This gig will be the last of The Wombat’s current UK tour. We know this because the band’s front man, Matthew Murphy tells us repeatedly throughout the set. Hard to know whether this disclosure is supposed to encourage the audience to give that bit more in return – you know, in recognition of all the band’s hard work over the course of a month; or whether it’s an insecure olive branch for anybody potentially not about to be blown away by proceedings. Whatever, first up is the A capella ‘Tales Of Girls, Boys & Marsupials’, followed closely by a lively ‘Kill The Director’. There’s a fast-paced rummage through some crowd-pleasing album tracks like ‘School Uniforms’ and ‘Party In A Forest (Where’s Laura)’; all jagged pop edges bouncing off the glassy veneer of their ‘80s LO-FI ‘laser’ show (some green fluorescent tubes, essentially). Then Murphy’s off, telling us all about how emotional this last gig of the UK tour is, and as if to prove the extent of their emotional turmoil, The Wombats then crank out the panto rock ‘Here Comes The Anxiety’. Mercifully, it’s not long before the largely teenybopper audience gets what it came for came for. ‘Moving to New York’ is brilliantly executed, full of the arch pop bite the band seems to be establishing as its trademark: and what’s more, this audience - they’re good kids - so when Murphy tells them / threatens them they’d better dance – they dance. As ‘Patricia The Stripper’ nears its last, Murphy makes the between-song gaff, telling the audience about an amazing night he’d had watching Interpol at this venue. Not wise to put a great band in people’s heads only seconds before launching into the Oom-pah Lederhosen awfulness of ‘Little Miss Pipedream’. The set closes with a blistering ‘Lets Dance to Joy Division’, after which the arrival of an 8ft inflatable Wombat (doing the Pink Floyd thing, suspended above the crowd) keeps the crowd entertained in the band’s absence. This welcome addition stays in place for the encore of ‘My First wedding’ and ‘Backfire at The Disco’, and then it’s all over: Mums & Dads start arriving at the back, eager to whisk their young wombats off home for some WKD and E4.

It’s not a bad night’s work for The Wombats: their handful of singles and a few decent album tracks are exciting enough, and it’s an adrenalized performance. They need more great songs, but as we’re still on album one(ish), we shouldn’t hold this against them. What does let them down, though, is the fact that on this evidence, on this night, their front man has virtually no stage presence. And when said front man insists on an inordinate amount of between-song banter, this can really start to grate. Maybe earlier on in the tour it wasn’t a problem.

Their festival tour starts next week.

Don't Break My Heart

I really fucking love this:

Stevie Riks

I just lost the whole morning to Stevie Riks' YouTube channel - it's really, properly funny:

Hear Me Now

I don't know anything about David Rodigan, but on this evidence, I'd really like to go for a pint with him: