Live: Castles in the Air Launch Show - The Red Lion, Gravesend 1/4/11

Okay, so you've just started a promotions company setting up gigs in an area of the country which is notoriously difficult to actually persuade anyone to get off their Xbox-inflated arses to come out to gigs. You're determined to get the name out there, and to kick off your operation with a bang. How best do you do that, d'ya suppose? Well, booking in five of the best and most well-known bands in the Kent underground scene would be a pretty good place to start, and a half-decent second step would be to put them on at a well-known and much-loved venue. Obviously Castles in the Air attended that particular school of gig logic, as that's exactly what they've done, with this show containing a lineup of scene favourites from far and wide, all of slight variation, and all ready to celebrate the launch of a new promo company by giving the familar settings of The Red Lion in Gravesend a sound maiming.

First up, it's a warm welcome back to the circuit for everyone's favourite acoustic punk duo, Torn Out (77%), and it only took a few bars of opener 'Chasing Lost Nights' for it to feel like 2009 all over again. Yes folks, that really was the last time this author actually saw the Essex boys play live, and in all fairness, not a whole lot has changed. Guitarist and singer Ben Smith still barks his lines with that trademark whiplash shout, and bassist Steve Knight is still all relaxed wit and smooth, fluid basslines. There's a bit of ring rust around the edges, with a couple of messed-up chord progressions and 'oh, it's that bit now?' glances across between the two, normally descending into good-natured giggles and banter. The experiance is still as charming as ever, and the songs remain the band's ace card. The newer songs, from their recent split EPs with other groups, show a marked emphasis on melody and pop hooks compared to the street grit of their first EP, but Smith's lyrics have lost none of their gut-punch brutal honesty. Overall then, like an old friend whom you've just invited out to the pub for a pint and a catch up, Torn Out are still as enjoyable as ever, and it's good to see them back.



From one variant of punk to another, acoustic punk gives way to pop punk, with everyone's favourites A Boy Named Girl (85%) up next. It doesn't really matter when you last saw the Dartford five-piece, or how many times you've seen them full stop; they'll still sound the same, still look the same, and still kick just as much arse. They've developed a back catalogue that can happily urinate all over many bands in the pop-punk stable, and while it doesn't bring anything new to the table, their sound and style is so well-executed and so damn fun that you'll wonder why you gave two shits when Fall Out Boy went on hiatus - who needs 'em and their preening when you've got a band writing stuff on a par with their 'Take This To Your Grave' record playing venues like this? And what's more, they can nail their tunes live - Christian Swaisland (drums) and Andy Sargent (bass) hold the others together on a monstrously tight leash, and Steve Wilde and Craig McCall throw catchy, razor-sharp guitar riffs and chords around like they're going out of fashion. Phil Harrison nails every single high-pitched and wavering vocal line, and is refreshingly unpretentious as a pop-punk frontman. Brilliant fun, and an experience I'd recommend to anyone with even a hint of liking for rock 'n' roll.



From pop-punk to ska-punk, it's My Third Leg (79%) playing their home venue, and my, how times have changed since their debut on this exact stage in December 2009. Paul Smith is actually becoming a half-decent drummer, for one thing. I'll just pause for a second so you can clean up the drink you just spat on your screen in shock. In all seriousness, he's matching the endeavour he's always shown with some hard-hitting chops nowadays, and it's improved wholesale from those early days. The same can be said for the rest of the band - while the songs have remained largely the same, their execution live has tightened up immeasurably, with the band growing steadily in stature with every gig. Guitarist Mike Smith embodies this progress rather nicely - from unassuming rhythm guitarist, he's now fleshing out the songs with backing flourishes of chords and arpeggios, leaving frontman Will Woodrow to handle the skanking riffs and leads. Will himself has developed a a distinctive vocal style, growing into the frontman role with confidence and great gusto. Bassist Dave Ja Vu is...well, he's Dave: bouncing around, grinning, yelping excitably, all that we've come to expect and enjoy. M3L are an example of a band sticking to their guns and relentlessly honing their sound, steadily growing in stature until you turn around and realise that, actually, they've become a really good band, without anyone ever particularly noticing when or where this transition to greatness ever happened. Tracks like 'Going for A Drive' and 'Yes Please' are growing into fan favourites, with the former in particular getting bodies moving with ease, and their delivery is sharp, assured and confident. Job well done lads, and the recording sessions for the rumoured upcoming album cannot come soon enough.



From ska-punk to...well, just punk, in the form of this author's personal favourites The Submission (83%), as they like Torn Out make their long-overdue return to the Red Lion stage. And there's no other way of saying this without spoiling my opinion somewhat, but my inevitable enjoyment of their set was tempered by a tinge of disappointment, and a cold realisation. The punk rockers from Deal are battle-hardened veterans now, with rookie drummer Matt Browne having to hit the ground running or risk going under. I speculated in my review of their Canterbury comeback show that Browne would improve on his impressive debut showing, and indeed that was the case, with a much more assured and powerful performance. But whilst the tunes remain as strong and muscular as ever, there's just something a bit cold about them tonight that I can't entirely put my finger on. Frontman Rich Harris was terse between songs, and granted, he's never been the most verbose of frontmen, but this calculating bluntness sat awkwardly at odds for me with the warmth and relaxed front of Submission gigs past. He also seemed to phone in the trademark madcap bombast of his live persona, although a fair bit of this may be attributed to sound problems involving him unable to hear himself play. Compensating for this unnatural dip in energy, though, was bassist Sadie Williams, whom seems to be getting more and more energetic by the show. Despite the ceaseless bounding around and grooving, however, she still remains an absolute professional, never missing a beat or run. What this show does prove to me, however, is that The Submission do miss having an extra guitarist to call on as backup. Expecting Harris to carry all the guitar work on his own, strong as he is in this area, is too much to ask, and I still remain to be convinced that 'I'm Lazy' works with large chunks of the song missing the rhythm guitar. Don't get me wrong, folks - The Submission remain a blazing live proposition, and with tunes like 'Number One Sensation', 'Get Up' (which makes a welcome comeback tonight), 'Reggae Rock Rebels' and 'You Just Don't Know', plus covers of The Clash's 'Career Oppurtunities' and The Ramones' timeless 'Blitzkrieg Bop', you have a set packed of blistering anthems and barnstorming action. But tonight, the realisation occurs that the band have perhaps moved on from past glories, and are a different beast now. More clinical, more ruthless and hard-edged, and perhaps more cynical. For better or for worse, this is the Submission of 2011.


It would probably be harsh of me to give a full review on headliners One Day Elliot, as I spent most of their set either outside at the burger trailer or out in the beer garden. That probably tells you all you needed to know about what I thought of them, and the few minutes or so I did catch only confirmed these impressions. Maybe they're beginning to suffer from jaded fatigue after countless years on the circuit, but for me their set lacked spark, and felt crushingly flat and lacking in joy de vivre. As I say, maybe the good bits of their set passed me by, but unlike the other bands on the bill, they failed to captivate my attention. The fact that a fair amount of people were also outside for their set makes me think that maybe others had the same idea.

So in conclusion, despite faltering just past halfway and the evening staggering to a lethargic and disappointing climax (insert 'this is how my girlfriend feels' jokes here), Castles in the Air's launch was a definite success. With a lineup that strong, even with one or two bands misfiring, you were still guaranteed by simple law of averages a great show, and indeed that was the case. Nice job.

All photography by Ian Castle.

Live: A Boy Named Girl, My Third Leg & Captain Bastard and the Scallywags - Crush, Dartford 16/3/11

Dartford. Hardly a hotbed of ace punk rock gigs, is it? Or indeed, a hotbed of much at all, except for shopping centres and old biddies who use their shopping trolleys and mobility scooters as offensive weapons against anything that looks at them funny (which is generally everyone else). But tonight is a spirited attempt to change that, with a lineup of three strong bands from the Kent scene ready to bring rock 'n' roll to the dancefloor of the Crush bar tonight, instead of dubstep and perhaps chlamydia.

After the usual bout of confused looks from the bewildered soundman, a few shrugs of shoulders and shouts of 'fuck it, let's just play', Captain Bastard and the Scallywags (76%) kick off proceedings on the neon-pink dancefloor. Tonight is the start of three dates for the ascending folk-punk crew, and they set down a strong marker for the rest of the tour. It's the usual mix of fun and piratey shenanigans from the gang, with singer Andrew Keech leading his merry men on a romp through the pages of folk-punk tradition, ably accompanied by his vocal lieutenants, mandolinist Jordan Harris and acoustic guitarist Tom Garderner. Actually, that's a bit of a misnomer, as this is folk-punk we're talking about, so you could legitimately claim that everyone in the band and in the crowd are backing vocalists for those big choruses. Speaking of which, they have plenty of those in store for you, and some of them are attached to great songs too. Standard opener 'Along Came A Spider''s stomping beats and hard-edged riffs never cease to entertain, as do the wonderfully uplifting backing vox and catchy hooks that permeate 'Getting Out Of This Town'. Drummer 'Miami' Keith Sargent drives everything forward with the usual frenzied, foaming-at-the-mouth drumming, and whilst the execution still isn't always perfect, the group as a whole are definitely growing in stature with each show. A solid and heartily enjoyable performance to kick-start proceedings, then - a job well done, me hearties. Or something.

Next up in the triumvirate comes the band who seem to crop up more regularly on this website than bags of white powder at Charlie Sheen's house, My Third Leg (78%). I've honestly lost count of the amount of times I've seen Gravesend's finest in the last few months, but the fact that it's never gotten boring must mean that they're doing something right. And in fact, there is something a little different about them tonight, and I'm not just talking about guitarist Mike Smith's new guitar and hairstyle either. In fact, this new guitar has brought about a few changes in Smith's playing, and while it sometimes gets clogged in the sound mix, it's notable that there's a bit more meat around the bones of his riffs and rhythm chords. Some things never change, though - elder brother Paul is still as lovably chaotic behind the kit as ever, pulling the usual mix of gurning facial expressions and desperate attempts at drums rolls, and bassist Dave Ja Vu is still forgetting to take his Ritalin medication before each show, bouncing around and grinning like an idiot throughout. Their songs are slowly growing in stature along with the band, and anthems like '3470 Miles', 'Balls Deep' and the timelessly excellent 'Going for A Drive' are unleashed to the enjoyment of the crowd. Reliably enjoyable as always, then - you know exactly what you're going to get with these blokes, and no matter how many times you see it, it'll always be damn good fun.

Wait, is that the time already? The evening feels like it's flown by, but we have an appropriate headliner to bring things to a catchy and hook-laden conclusion - it's the hometown heroes themselves, A Boy Named Girl (84%). It's not that big a secret that, for a while, I wasn't the biggest fan of this group, but since my Lazarus-style reversal of opinion last October in Deal, I've been struggling to work out why it took me so long to realise what a genuinely great group these fellas are. Songs like 'Ill Be Fine (When I Forget You)', 'Night Life Story' and 'My Best Mistake' are outrageously catchy slices of pop-punk, and not only do the five-piece have an armoury of such tunes already built up, but they also have a live show that nails them to a T - relentlessly tight execution allied to the requisite amounts of energy and youthful bluster. All the above is on display tonight, as well as their usual tongue-in-cheek cover of Sisqo's 'Thong Song', which is nothing short of impishly fun. What's interesting, though, are the few new songs on display, which show that the band are maturing and taking a new direction into slower, ballad-driven radio rock...had you going for a second, didn't I? No, the newer tracks' only concession to progress is to ramp up the hooks and melodies even more so, if that was even possible, and there's one song in particular that I've yet to learn the name of who's riffs still refuse to leave my head even now, and probably won't until I conduct experimental brain surgery with a pair of tweezers. Great fun.

A lineup strong enough to survive the late departure of one of the bands and still be a classic is truly a night that doesn't fuck around in terms of enjoyment levels, and tonight was probably the most amount of fun I've had in Dartford for bloody ages. A good variety of bands, all with various prefixes you could attach to the word 'punk', and all with unique charm and character that when combined together on nights like this results in a entertaining and sweaty Wednesday night out.

Live: Random Hand/Tyrannosaurus Alan and others - The Ivy Leaf Bar, Sheerness, 5/2/11

Blimey, we really were spoilt rotten on the 5th of February 2011, weren't we? A day of absolute mayhem in the football Premier League (and a day that Arsenal fans are probably still trying to forget about), and then this gem of a gig tucked away in the evening, with in my opinion the two best bands on the circuit at the moment in the top two slots on the bill. The term 'not to be missed' is one of those terms bandied around by over-zealous promoters in a desperate attempt to get bodies into venues and cash into their pockets, but in this case, such a term feels wholly appropriate, which is why I'm thankful for the late lift down there I received at literally the 11th hour.

This late arrival meant that I missed everyone's favourite Gravesend ska-punkers My Third Leg, but honestly, if you're that interested to know what they are like live, go and read one of the many other reviews I've written on them in the last few months, and odds are good that you'd be able to apply what I've said in those articles to their performance tonight. Unless they had just finished packing away the pyrotechnics and breakdancing cats, then I'm pretty sure I've not missed anything I haven't seen multiple times before.

Having said that, I'd rather have missed L.O.W.D (39%) (that's pronounced 'loud' if anyone was wondering) and seen M3L for the umpteenth time in the last few months, such was the mediocre fare of their set. It's probably unfair of me to fully grade their performance, seeing as I was outside, taking my chances with the cigarette smoke and the cold for most of their set, although that in itself probably tells you how highly I regarded them - answer, not very. The first impression was not good - they suffered from 'yeah, we're a band' syndrome, which seemed to give them an excuse to stand completely still and not look in the least bit interested in what they were playing, whilst the singer strutted around and demanded that the audience get moving, jump up, etc etc. Such things are a two-way street, pal, and if you're not putting in the effort, then why should we? Especially when your music is so painfully anodyne and by-the-numbers that this alone is enough to bore most of the prospective crowd into submission and a long ciggie outside. Their take on aggro-punk was so painfully tedious and beige sounding that had this been the sound of London and New York in the late 70s, punk rock would never have made it out of the squats, and thank fuck bands like The Ramones, The Clash and others were there to turn it into the amazing musical genre it has become today. Oh, and speaking of the Ramones, they then went and massacred 'Blitzkrieg Bop', which I thought was both illegal under international law and impossible to actually do. They played it slower than the original studio version, for Pete's sakes! And unbelievably, despite this, they will now be able to say that they've supported Random Hand. Don't let that fool you, folks - this was some of the most boring dross I've ever heard served up under the banner of punk/rock 'n' roll, and this crushing lack of energy and joie de vivre will hinder any further progress the band wishes to make.

So whilst they headed back to the rehearsal room and the proverbial drawing board, the anticipation levels cranked up as the time ticked down to the start of this colossal clash of the titans. The challengers and potential heirs to the throne, Tyrannosaurus Alan (92%), were up first, and unsurprisingly, it was explosive and energetic from the word go. The boys seem to have a knack of finding an involuntary muscle reflex in everyone's bodies that makes them start skanking, dancing, jumping and hollering along like lunatics whether they were actually planning on doing so or not. You just can't help it - with the ferocious cocktail of outrageously catchy horn hooks and muscular guitars and drumbeats laying waste to everything in it's way, you have absolutely no choice but to respond accordingly and dance. As usual, guitarist and frontman 1 Ollie Harries' vocals are set to full-auto, and they chatter and rattle unrelentingly alongside trombonist and frontman 2 Simon Champ's cannon barks at the choruses, and the formidable rhythm section of Ben Robinson on bass and Craig Shephard on drums is rock solid and razor sharp, holding the myriad horns and crashing riffs in check with immense precision and fluidity. The majority of the brilliant 'Campaign' record is rolled out, as well as one new song, which largely eschews the ska-punk carnage for the most part and worships at the alter of hip-hop, with a suitably grimy beat driving on Ollie's extended raps, and it's an interesting change of pace, although I'd be concerned if this was the exclusive new path they were taking. Still, look how far Sonic Boom Six have got with the whole hip-hop-with-guitars path, and besides, the T-Alan collective could release a second album comprising entirely of Mumford and Sons covers played on balalaikas and harpsichords - with anthems of such strength as 'The Officer Problem', 'Bombard the BBC', 'Spitting in a Dead Man's Eye' and 'Kourtney Palmer' already in the bank, and with a live show as devastating and immensely enjoyable as this, their status is secure, and their star will continue to rise in 2011.

So, the challengers laid down the gauntlet in stunning style. How did the incumbents respond? With a powerhouse performance right out of the top drawer, that's how. Despite the traditional bout of early deserters, there was still a large contingent with just about enough energy left over to skank and shout themselves to a standstill. And Random Hand (94%) provided the perfect fuel for this rabid fire, with a set of crunching, melodic and soaring ska-rock anthems, delivered with rabid, phlegm-spitting energy from frontman Robin Leitch and his cohorts. Recently added drummer Sean Howe has earned his stripes as a rock 'n' roll drummer par excellence, and his rock-solid beats and raucous crashes drive the entire music on at a relentless pace, with bassist Joe Tilston locking everything down alongside him. This allows Leitch's vocals to snarl and bark with wild abandon, and Matt Crosher's crunching guitar riffs to smash through the mix like a devastating whirling dervish of overdriven power and melody. They are a monstrously tight and razor-sharp unit, and all this adds up to great anthems aplenty. A shrieking siren wail signals the crushing 'Anthropology' to start the set, and the excellent 'I, Human' swiftly follows. 'For Roni' (a personal favourite of mine), 'Devil's Little Guinea Pig' and 'Roots in the Crowd' keep the pace fast and unrelenting throughout the set, before the quite brilliant triumvirate of 'Anger Management', 'Play Some Ska' and 'Scum Triumphant' brings the evening to a spectacular crescendo.

So, after a thoroughly boring undercard, the heavyweight title fight was an absolute stormer, with the reigning champions from Bradford only just retaining their title on points after an epic bout. Fantastic fun, and both are looking in fine fettle to take 2011 by storm and make it their own.

Live: We Are The Union & others all-day show - The Ivy Leaf Bar, Sheerness, 4/12/10

Considering the continuing presence of mysterious white powdery stuff on the ground, the fact that this gig even took place is a small miracle in itself. Seriously, it goes beyond funny and into the realms of facepalm-inducingly pathetic just how bad this country - mainly the government and local councils - are at dealing with the snow. After a week couped up inside listening to interminable news reporters standing around looking stupid and wittering on about 'the treacherous conditions taking their grip' and other such bollocks, I was rather up for a decent gig, and it appears Mother Nature agreed, easing up on the snow just in time for what, on paper, looked like one of the gigs of the year. A great little venue playing host to a roster of bands which read like a who's-who of the UK scene, complete with American headliners fresh off of tour with none other than Less Than Jake. This was a gig not to be missed, and by hook or by crook, and with a helping hand from Messrs Wayne and Tom with Dreads, I hitched a lift down and was able to bare witness to the fun that unfolded.

























It's pretty much a given that any all-day event will never start on time, and I arrived just after the 4:45pm eventual start time, to be greeted with the slightly surreal sight of a bloke bobbing around on stage with an acoustic guitar doing tongue-in-cheek covers of Disney themes and old 90's pop songs. It didn't take long to deduce that this was in fact opening act Team Harry (6/10), though it's debatable whether the 'Team' element could be applicable, seeing as it was only the 'Harry' part, in the form of vocalist and guitarist Harry Broster, present onstage. He took the opportunity of having a stage to himself to essentially dick around for half an hour, poking fun at James Blunt and cheesy boy bands, amongst others. Hell, this was about as life-affirming as the toast I ate that morning, but it's still good fun all the same, and actually comes across more as a stand-up comedy set than a live music show, not that that's a bad thing at all.


















Dodgy S Club 7 covers aside, the first band on proper were Gravesend's own My Third Leg (7/10), a band I seem to have seen live more times in the last few months than I have eaten hot dinners. And to be honest, there wasn't that much different about this show to the previous three times I've seen them - you could practically copy-paste my review of them at Piccadilly Circus at the end of October and you'd have an accurate picture of tonight's show. Frontman Will Woodrow was as always warm, witty and humble, acting as a counterpoint to bassist Dave Ja Vu, who bounced around the stage non-stop and punctuated nearly every song with staccato 'eys!' and other yelped backing vocals. Drummer Paul Smith had a fairly decent set, making only a couple of mistakes - it's just a shame then that they were both so glaringly obvious that a deaf man wearing earmuffs in Timbuktu would've winced at them. It wasn't a great set overall for the Smith brothers - guitarist Mike also suffered problems with his amp cutting out, and overall the set felt a little flat compared to previous shows. Perhaps it was the early start time, a lengthy journey down from Gravesend, maybe both? I'm not sure, but what is certain is that they are admirably consistent in the quality of their performances, which considering the amount of gigs they've gotten through this year, will serve them in good stead. The challenge now in the new year will be to see if they can lift themselves up another few gears as a unit and go from 'good band' to 'great band worthy of headline status at events like this'.

























I know what you're thinking - that bloke in the picture doesn't look much like either of The Plan's vocalists, Tom Crabb or Andrew Keech. That's because neither of them were actually present, for some reason or another. So rather than bail altogether, bassist Wayne Tully and drummer Ben Gower hastily recruited Captain Bastard and the Scallywags' resident mandolin player Jordan Harris (pictured) as makeshift frontman, renamed themselves Mexican Wave (6.5/10), and proceeded to belt out a set of various Nirvana and Green Day covers with varying degrees of success. Of course, mistakes and technical sloppiness in these circumstances are about as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning and politicians lying to save face, so we wound up hearing the same verse to 'Longview' repeated 3 times (in fact, most bands have a problem with that song - Dr Goon brutally buttfucked it, and even The Submission struggled with the lyrics), and 'When I Come Around' clunked badly at times, but all things considered, the group actually did pretty well. Wayne's slick bass playing and Ben's driving beats formed a strong backbone when they fire together, just as they do on a regular basis with The Plan, while Harris brought an energetic delivery and barked vocals to the party. The Nirvana covers in particular went down very well, and as they ended on another Green Day cover, the criminally underrated 'Burnout', there was a sense that the trio might have stumbled on a combination that has potential to work if it's actually formed into a proper band. It'll be interesting to see if they decide to progress with the idea.



















Next up came part one of the Welsh invasion, in the form of Caerphilly's Detached (8/10). I'd heard a lot about this highly-touted ska-punk sextet, and tonight I saw exactly why they're creating such a buzz. This is proper ska-punk, in the purest sense of the word - snarling guitar riffs meld with bouncing horns and skanking beats to create a vicious, hook-laden assault that owes heavily to Less Than Jake and Big D and the Kids Table, but there's also a mild pop-punk streak running through their repertoire, bringing to mind early Kids Can't Fly or perhaps a revamped version of A Boy Named Girl with an added horn section, if you can imagine that. Frontman Rhys Mence was a livewire firecracker of energy with a vocal delivery to match, and bassist Gethin Lock cut an imposing presence next to him as they led the charge from the front. They did fall at times into a familiar trap experienced in this genre, in that some of the songs flit undisciplined from tempo to tempo, and there's never much time for a hook to embed itself in your head before they veer onto another one. Just because you have a lot of weapons in your armoury, doesn't mean you have to use as many as you can at any one time. They certainly don't suffer this as badly as other bands (I'm looking at you, Sonic Boom Six), and it didn't detract from what is an exhilarating performance full of high technical skill and chemistry. Watch out for a review of their current EP very soon, which I picked up immediately after their set from the merch stall.



















Part Two of the Welsh invasion came courtesy of the band I was most looking forward to seeing for the first time - Cardiff's Captain Accident and the Disasters (9/10). Considering the enormous gamut of ska-punk bands littering the scene right now (in itself no bad thing), CA&TDs embracing of reggae so wholeheartedly makes for a refreshing change of pace, and they laid down a set of relaxed and heavily melodic grooves which got heads bobbing and bodies swaying with consummate ease. This is music so infused with the spirit of summer that it felt criminal that we were hearing it on a cold December evening, but the truth is, everyone was too busy having fun to notice - much like Jaya the Cat, this is music to loose yourself for half an hour with, swaying with the chilled melodies. Frontman Adam Parsons, in his alter ego as Captain Accident, had a soulful delivery with his vocals, and was very friendly and affable in between songs. His Disasters backing band were a smooth and fluid combination, with Earl Christian's excellent basslines and Huw Jones' nifty drumbeats providing the perfect foundation for both Parsons and lead guitarist Ryan Steadman, who's gorgeous, surf-rock-infused lead parts added another dimension to the fun. Like a modern-day Jimmy Cliff or Toots and the Maytals, this Captain and his merry men are a shining example of just how joyous reggae music can be, and long may they continue - their Pick Up the Microphone EP/Album is another record I'll run the rule over in the next few weeks.















One Day Elliot (7/10) are a band who have certainly paid their dues and earned the respect of the scene - touring and recording for all of 12 years, with multiple big-money record deals turned down along the way, tells it's own story. Tonight they successfully managed to defy their age and delivered a set full of heavy, pop-punk-inflected action, with the occasional bursts of epic overtones a la Funeral for a Friend. I personally didn't take to their music as enthusiastically as others did, but that didn't stop me admiring the energy of the performance, with frontman Paul Richards working the crowd brilliantly. They also exhibited on the shiny new tracks some awesome vocal harmonies, something that caught me completely by surprise and adds another string to their already rather crowded bow. Impressive stuff, and a demonstration from the proverbial greybeards of the scene that they still have the drive and hunger to continue for many years yet - here's to another 12 years, eh?
















We were by now heading towards the climax of the event, and despite the best efforts of a valiant band of Welshmen earlier to try and steal the show, the night was only ever going to be about one band - the pride of Medway, Tyrannosaurus Alan (10/10). From the moment the seven members crammed onto the stage and surged into action, it was complete carnage on the floor - bodies pogoing and skanking everywhere in an incendiary display of energy from both crowd and band. Co-vocalist and occasional trombone player Simon Champ took centre stage and led the troops, snarling and spitting his vocals with wild abandon and whipping the crowd up into a frenzy with ease, getting fists in the air and circle pits spinning. Guitarist and fellow vocalist Ollie Harries gleefully assisted in the mayhem, and the band as a whole drove home bouncing hook after powerhouse riff with stunning precision and unity. Horns blared, basslines boomed, drums crashed, Harries' guitar crunched and the aforementioned vocals chattered like staccato machine-guns in a devastating display of contemporary ska-punk, blending their wide-ranging influences (from hip-hop to funk by way of Skindred ragga-punk) into a seamless and rip-roaring stream of awesome and honestly life-affirming anthems. The horn hook from 'The Officer Problem' embeds in your brain like a piece of white-hot shrapnel, and if the likes of 'Cheer Up' and 'Tunnels' don't get you skanking frantically, then I'm going to save you the bother and declare you medically dead. Fantastic fun. Time to raise a glass for T-Alan, one of the finest live bands in the UK right now - 2010 has certainly been their year.





















You really had to pity We Are The Union (8/10) - they were supposed to be the headliners and all-star international act, and yet they discovered tonight that it's almost damn near impossible to follow on from T-Alan, largely because, once the dust has settled, there's barely anyone actually left in the venue - I'd say around 20-30 people remained when the American ska-punkers hit the stage. It may well have made sense for the two bands to have swapped around on the bill, with T-Alan headlining instead - yes, WATU are internationally well-known, and it's a pretty big deal for them to be playing a tiny club in Sheerness having just come off of a UK tour with Less than Jake and Zebrahead, but let's face it, you could put Less Than Jake themselves on and offer free beer to all attendees, and they'd still struggle to pull a crowd on a par with T-Alan. The fact that WATU still managed to rip through an energetic set despite the thinning numbers (trombone player Matt Belhanger took time out after one song to bemoan this fact, and thank those who stuck around) is admirable and shows great conviction. Mind you, the music they play demands an energetic delivery by it's very nature - buzzsaw ska-punk rock that varies in pace between breakneck and blistering. In fact, I'm going to coin a new term for them - 'skate-ska'. Because listening to them felt like listening to a skater kid's mixtape, a mixtape that skips from Less Than Jake to NOFX to Black Flag to Bad Religion to Mad Caddies and back again. It's just a shame that they fell into the same trap I mentioned above with Detached and SB6 - ill-disciplined songwriting. In fact, forget just bad discipline, this was flat-out musical schizophrenia - if ten seconds went by without sudden tempo change, then that meant you had probably passed out unconscious on the floor, gibbering and foaming at the mouth. Their music has promise, definitely, it's just that it comes and goes so quickly that you'll wonder if you were just imagining it. Like I said earlier with Detached, pick one weapon, or perhaps two at the most at any one time, and batter us over the head with that - switching weapons every five seconds more often than not kills any momentum you've built up, and can mean that songs breeze by with a lot of bluster and flare, but with no end product. Whereas T-Alan's songs will be lodged in my head until sometime after Christmas, too many of WATU's tracks will slip into obscurity until I look them up on Myspace again. If they rectify this, then they have potential to be a great band; there's nothing wrong with their live show, which was tight and frenetic from first note to last. Drummer Jim Margle switched through the various tempos without breaking sweat, and his powerhouse drumming drove the entire performance with great precision and technical ability, whilst directly in front of him onstage, frontman Reed Michael Wolcott was a hunched, aggressive figurehead with a whiplash vocal style to match. In the end, this was never going to be the glorious finale it claimed to be - T-Alan ruthlessly saw to that - but it was nevertheless a decent way of wrapping things up, and there was more than enough on show to convince me that WATU are a band worth investigating further. If they can get whoever writes their songs to calm the fuck down, then there's a chance they can harness the explosive power they possess and focus it into something great.

Summation time: with a lineup this strong, it was always going to be difficult for this show to live up to the heavy weight of expectation, but do you know what? It actually does end up matching the hype, and then some. Arguably though, this was by far and away Tyrannosaurus Alan's night, and their spectacular performance was worth the trip down and admission fee on it's own. The likes of Detached, Captain Accident, We Are The Union et al all played their part well, but in the end they were all overshadowed by one of the absolute greats of the current UK scene right now, and it was a pleasure, as well as quite a thrill, to bear witness to them.

Overall 9/10

All photos by Vic Wintergreen.

Live: The Submission and others (All-Dayer) - The Railway Pub, Walmer, 23/10/10

Standing on the platform of a freezing cold Walmer station in the wee small hours of Sunday morning, waiting for the train that would take me homeward bound to Swanley, I found myself (amongst swearing under my breath at the fact my train was delayed, and perhaps yawning) reflecting on the previous 24 hours that had gone before it. Just down the road from the station I was sat at was The Railway Pub, and at this hour of the morning, only some broken glass on the pavement outside and some tatty posters in the windows gave any clue at what had come before it. It had seen me experience a gig like no other, one I had to travel nearly 60 miles just to get to, a fair distance for any gig, let alone one by local bands in a tiny pub in a small coastal town, but one that was a pretty hefty rollercoaster of music, beer, and great fun from its relatively slow start to its blistering finale. And now that I'm back home and back to normal levels of sleep and energy (just about), it's time for me to recount, in as much detail as I can, that hectic Saturday afternoon and evening.

It's pretty safe to say that the day hardly got underway in glorious fashion - in fact, if you had no prior idea of the quality of some of the bands following, you'd be well within your rights to have walked through the front doors, seen the first band playing on the first stage (what I'll call from now on the Bar Stage), and have turned round and walked straight back out the door again to stay in for the evening with The X Factor. I'm not joking - opening band Dr Goon (2/10) were so atrocious they had to be seen to be believed. Not seen for too long, mind - just long enough to realise that listening to them play was on a par with sticking a cordless drill in one ear and a screwdriver in the other. Their main problem (amongst the myriad of others) was that they looked like they had never even seen each other before, let alone played together. Lesson 1 for up-and-coming bands, kids - make sure you are relatively tight as a unit before you even think of looking for gigs. As much as I poked fun at the early iterations of My Third Leg for their technical sloppiness, at least they could hold a tune together. The Total Goons were so shockingly sloppy it sounded at times like each member was playing a completely different song - each very badly. Matters were hardly helped by a singer who looked utterly comatose, and a keyboard player who had got lost at a trad jazz gig and never found his way back home. The only reason they managed two scores was the fact that their guitarist and drummer at least looked into it, although the one shred of talent in the entire band was firmly with the guitarist - imagine Clem Burke after a particularly ham-fisted frontal lobotomy and you have Collection of Dribbling Goons' drummer. Which leads me nicely onto Lesson 2 for up-and-coming bands: if you are borrowing someone else's equipment, avoid breaking it, as the drummer did when he managed to somehow split the skin of the bass drum with the pedal. And then Lesson 3 - don't then use this pause in play to advertise a show you're playing on the very same day not very far away from there. This is perhaps one of the biggest faux pas you can commit, particularly when one of the chief organisers of the show you're currently playing (and owner of the piece of equipment you've just broken) happens to be standing right next to you. Fortunately, Mr Rich Harris kept his rebuke short and to the point (a barked 'fuck off') and the Travelling Band of Blithering Goons were allowed to leave with all of their members still in one piece. What made the incident particularly hilarious was how farcically awful they had performed - it made you wonder how on Earth they managed to get two gigs at all, let alone on the same day. Answers on a postcard please - for now, I'm calling bribery.

It's not too much of an exaggeration to suggest that anybody could look good following on from the pile of foul-smelling shite that had opened proceedings, but having said that, I genuinely quite liked Shattered Resolutions (6.5/10). They flitted from drop-C tuned metal-y, sometimes stoner-y fuzz rock to something a bit more faster paced, but whilst certainly not reinventing the wheel, they at least showcased a bit of flash and imagination. Of particular note is how the two guitarists, Aaron Dixon and James Revell, deliberately manufactured two different sounds from their respective guitars, which when combined together created an interesting mix, using it to try and expand the songs sonically. They traded solos nicely too, and when you throw in Tyler French's yelped vocals and the fairly dynamic rhythm section of Robby Levesley on bass and James Nesbitt (no, not the James Nesbitt) on drums, you have a group that have promise. They could've scored higher had their set had the energy and confidence their music deserved, but they are a young band, and have time on their side to iron these creases out.

Sadly, one of the bands I was most looking forward to seeing pulled a complete no-show - The Moo Woos. In fact, a no nothing - not a phonecall, not an answering of a phone call, no appearance at all. Very frustrating, as it puts a big black mark next to their name, which their music doesn't deserve, and I'm sure they would've thrived in the intimate setting and atmosphere of the venue, but hey, their loss I suppose.

So we move straight back into the backroom stage where Shattered Resolutions had performed, and we find The Plan's Andrew Keech (complete with trademark flat-cap) and Ben Gower, but instead of their partners in crime in The Plan, instead they are backed up today by a myriad of different instruments and members. Time to welcome to proceedings Captain Bastard and the Scallywags (7.5/10), a band with not only a spectacular name, but a spectacular array of weapons in their sonic arsenal - alongside the traditional guitar/bass/drums triumvirate, we introduce an acoustic guitar, a mandolin, an accordion, and a penny whistle, just for good measure. I was told beforehand to expect folk-punk fun to rival Calico Street Riots, with perhaps some added Guinness and pirate shenanigans, and that's a fairly accurate description. They deviated from the standard, fast-paced folk-punk template at times though, and this refreshing change of pace enabled them to make better use of the wide variety of instruments at their disposal - the mandolin in particular, played with great aplomb by Jordan Harris, was particularly prominent, and pennywhistlist (is that even a word?!) Kayla Harlow lead off one song in fine solo fashion. Just like Calico, all of their songs are infused with the bouncing energy and sense of unabashed fun that makes the genre great. Two things largely let them down - firstly, Keech's vocals were suffering due to illness and were largely reduced to a series of barks and croaks, and secondly, the band are still a work-in-progress in terms of gelling as a unit - one song had to be abandoned and the drumming fell out in several other parts. But, as I was quick to remind Keech afterwards, they are a new band, having only played 2 shows before this, and particularly with this many instruments in the mix, it would take a little more time for things to start clicking completely smoothly. For now, they are a band easing into life on the circuit, and I look forward to seeing them progress, as there is a lot of potential laying in wait.

Next up on the Bar Stage were, from a personal perspective, the biggest surprises of the day - A Boy Named Girl (8/10). I'd seen them a couple of times beforehand, and both times had never really 'got' them, and I really don't know why. Maybe I had an in-built indifference and cynicism for the largely bland, generic pap that passes for modern pop-punk nowadays which clouded my judgement of them before, but on this particular evening, I went into their set with an open mind, and I was hooked from first outrageously catchy note to last. Y'see, this is how modern pop-punk should sound - yes, there's floppy fringes, yes, there's half-tempo breakdowns, but they are interwoven into tunes packed with hooks and properly shimmering choruses, and a sound that avoids being hackneyed and cliched, and a stage presence that sidesteps plastic posturing and concentrates wholly on having a damn good time, which is exactly what the crowd that gathers to watch them do have. The theme of being tight as a unit has run constantly throughout this review, and I have to come back to it, because that's one of ABNG's biggest strengths - good pop-punk has to be razor-sharp in it's delivery, and that's something the five-piece pull off brilliantly. Great job, and I'll happily admit to being wrong about them before.

I didn't actually watch directly the next act, the Disclosure Project (6/10), so take this rating as being based on what I heard whilst having a break from the music with a beer in the bar as they performed in the backroom. All I saw directly of them was their soundcheck, which told me that they were a expansive and technical three-piece. What I heard from them in the background after that proved that pretty much right, but also told me that they somehow had a knack of making even epic rock songs by the likes of Foo Fighters and 30 Seconds to Mars sound...well, kinda boring. I don't know why, they just didn't grip me. Let's put it this way - I was waiting for them to drag me away from the bar and into the backroom to watch them, but they never managed it. Every song of theirs seemed to drag it's heels somehow, and they came across as being a bit MOR for my liking. Still, I will give them credit for being musically tight and technically very sound, with a decent depth.

Hang on, I'm feeling a bit of de ja vu coming on here...or should that be Dave Ja Vu, to be precise? Yes, for the second time in as many days, it was time for me to check out up-and-coming ska-punkers My Third Leg (8/10), Gravesend's chief representatives at the show, and the penultimate band up on the Bar Stage. Having seen them only the night before I had a pretty good idea of what to expect from them, and so it proved, as they turned in what was not only a step up from their performance in Central London, but the best performance I've seen from them so far in their burgeoning career. Bizarrely enough, despite the malfunctioning drumkit (still hungover from the brutalising it got earlier on in the day), drummer Paul Smith produced his most consistent tub-thumbing performance yet, with no obvious cock-ups - I can barely believe I'm writing this! - and the rest of the band also played to the top of their strengths. Frontman Will Woodrow was all-action, a powerful mix of crashing guitar leads and strong singing, and he was ably back up by his cohorts - additional guitarist Mike Smith was a highly rhythmic sidekick in the six-string antics, and bassist Dave Ja Vu was all beaming smiles and rippling, anchorweight basslines. Their standards were all wheeled out and given a battering - the joyous singalong of '3470 Miles', the skankpit-baiting 'Going for a Drive', and the moody 'Time Travel', and the rest from their Fift E.P., all present and correct and all sounding excellent in such a setting. A nice injection of ska-styled energy into an evening that was swiftly building towards an entertaining crescendo.

I had another break after this one to get another pint or so in and to conserve energy before the finale, so I missed IRIS's set, only hearing glimpses in the background - nowhere near enough to give them an accurate rating. The odd snatches I did hear did sounded heavy, technical and pretty creative in parts, so one to watch out for for the future perhaps.

In all fairness though, anticipation was by now building with all the speed of a runaway freight train for the arrival onto the Bar Stage of the local heroes to finish off the evening in spectacular style. And so, at around 10pm in the evening, The Submission (9.5/10) arrived on the Bar Stage, briefly tuned up, and blasted headlong into action, with a furious and spectacular medley of 'Reggae Rock Rebels', 'Stay in Action' and their rendition of the unofficial rock 'n' roll national anthem, 'Johnny Be Good.' And so began a rollercoaster journey through The Submission's personal vision of punk rock - rip-snorting energy, raucous singalongs, buzzsaw guitar riffs, hooks aplenty, and pure, uplifting power. Frontman Richard Harris was as always the absolute heart and soul of the performance, channelling the spirits of Joe Strummer, Jake Burns, Tim Armstrong and other legendary punk frontmen into his ballistic, gung-ho delivery, bellowing his vocals, headspinning, jumping around and thrashing the life out of his guitar like it was his last night on Earth - just like every Submission performance, then. That's not to say they are a one-man operation - in fact, bassist Sadie Williams acted as the calm counterpoint, quietly grooving and locking the operation down with rock solid and neat bass work, and stayed cool and collected despite the chaos erupting around her. A lot of kudoes has to go to stand-in drummer for the evening Bernie Watts, who despite less than a handful of rehearsals with the group, slotted in with no problems at all, and was a reliable and steady hand behind the kit. Sadly, guitarist Phil Morgan was reduced to errant bystander for most of the set, as a stray beer glass caused terminal damage to his amp very early on, but in true Submission fashion, a little hiccup like this wasn't allowed to get in the way of the chaos.

It's a measure of their quality as songwriters that their original songs, such as the stomping 'No Motivation' or the blistering 'No Tomorrow', merged seamlessly into the setlist alongside the gamut of covers they rolled out. Tonight the covers list included the traditional brace of Rancid tunes ('Radio' and 'Roots Radicals'), as well as their 100mph rendition of the classic Clash anthem 'White Riot', a frenzied rev-up (if it ever needed revving up in the first place) of Green Day's 'Maria', and further run throughs of 'Longview', 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' (which pushed the dancing and moshing to almost chaotic levels), blink-182's 'All The Small Things', the '80s pop hit 'Spin Me Right Round' and the Stiff Little Fingers' 'Barbed Wire Love' - all of them delivered with exactly the same hammerhead precision and relentless energy as their originals.

There was also just enough time for a mid-set interlude to finally unveil the surprise 'guest' band, Meat Whiplash, whom were in reality The Submission but with sadly departing landlord Stu and wife Wanda guesting on vocals and drums, respectively. As a way to bow out, guest-starring with the headline act at your own farewell gig is a pretty stylish way to go, and Stu celebrated the occasion by rolling back the years and giving as good as he got on covers of Department S's 'Is Vic There?', the Dead Kennadys' 'Holiday in Cambodia', and The Jam's 'That's Entertainment'. Wanda gave the drumkit a sound battering for a few numbers before allowing Bernie to re-take the hot seat and instead gave additional vocal support up front, and the Whiplash's brief set closed with a madcap run through Electric Six's 'Gay Bar', before they departed to allow The Submission to wrap things up in style, firstly with the aforementioned 'Should I Stay...' and 'Longview' covers before drawing the mayhem to a close with 'It Won't Stop', as defiant a statement as any to end what could possibly be their last showing at this particular venue. The only things that stops me giving them a maximum score was the issues with Phil's guitar, and the fact that the set sort of never really regained the early momentum after Meat Whiplash's cameo appearance, although neither of which can really be attested to the band, and they were still my personal favourite band of the entire day by some way - that's not to be disrespectful to the other bands, some of whom were excellent (okay, not Dr Goon), but that's more a measure of just how much I enjoy watching The Submission play - they are, to my mind, a live experience like no other.

So, here comes the part where I try and condense down everything into a handful of easily digestible sentence nuggets to summarise the entire review. Not easy, but I'll give it a go anyway: as a gig, it was sometimes inconsistent, although fortunately gradually improved to a spectacular zenith at the conclusion after a dreadful start, but as an experience, it was a fantastic day and evening which will last in the memory for a long time - long after I had departed Walmer on the first train back home, and long after I've even finished writing this very review. Congratulations to everybody involved in setting up and organising this great show, and I'd like to wish Stu and Wanda all the best in their new pursuits - if this is to be the last time rock 'n' roll comes to The Railway Pub in this fashion, then it's safe to say it went out in style.

Overall Review 9/10

My Third Leg - The Fift E.P.

As I type now, my voice is largely destroyed, and I'm exhausted due to a combination of lack of sleep and huge amount of manic dancing and singing. All of this, plus an 100-mile plus round trip to the Kent Coast and back, plus a rather large hole in my wallet, was all very much worthwhile, however, as it meant I got to experience the madness that was The Railway Pub's send-off all-day show in all it's blisteringly loud, beer-spilling, raucous and hella fun glory. I will get down to reviewing this show once I've recovered a little more, but for now, I fancy having a look at an EP by one of the bands that starred at the show in question - ascending ska-punkers My Third Leg.

Funnily enough, I've been seeing rather a lot of MTL over the last few days (stop sniggering at the back) - how does two shows in as many days go? And during that time I've really had a chance to see how far the band have come in a relatively short space of time, and how much potential is still laying in wait. It's fair to say - and the band themselves even admit this to a degree - that in their early iterations, there was a relative lack of structure, and the feeling was that the band were often stuck on as the shits 'n' giggles first acts at most LSP gigs in and around Gravesend - well, wouldn't you do the same if you ran a promotions company organising punk and ska gigs, and handily happened to be in a ska-punk band yourself? But my point being here was that it was easy to not take them all that seriously, a bit of a laugh, mucking around, regularly swapping instruments, etc etc. But as I mentioned in my review of their Comedy Pub show, they've quietly gone about knuckling down to work on their craft, gelling more as a unit, and honing their songwriting and technical skill, and all this has resulted in them starting to become a band to be really taken seriously as a force - all seemingly whilst I wasn't looking. All this progress business has resulted in them recording and releasing their first E.P. of material, selling at shows and on their recently set-up merch store (I told you they were going up in the world) for the princely sum of 50p (hence the title, see?), and having procured a copy for myself on Friday, it's time to give it a spin.

What jumps out straight away is the crispness of the production and sound quality, which is a very high quality for a DIY recording - credit must be given to the producer, none other than The Submission's Rich Harris, who is rightly thanked in the sleeve notes. His biggest asset from a production and mixing standpoint appears to be his ability to keep all instruments balanced - even when all instruments are at full volume and intensity, the mix does well to avoid being muddy and clogged, and the vocals are nice and clear, something that characterises The Submission's own self-produced work. This high-quality production helps the songs themselves to shine through, and guess what? That's exactly what they do.

Some of the songs on the EP date back from the very first days of the band, but have been mercilessly honed, trimmed and refined into the catchy and addictive nuggets of ska-punk we are treated to on this disc. Two such songs combine to form a nice one-two opening salvo - 'Going for a Drive' and '3470 Miles', both of which are growing to become signature anthems for the group, and rightly so, as both of them encapsulate the best aspects of the band's sound - Will Woodrow's easily recognisable vocal delivery, the trading between quiet/loud and slow/fast sections, Will and Mike Smith's choppy guitar lines, Dave Ja Vu's fantastic, bubbling basslines, and drummer Paul Smith's primal skin-battering. Another MTL standard, Random Inspiration, bookends the disc, giving the record a strong start and a strong finish - something I always like to hear on records, and something that many much bigger bands seem to completely forget about.

However, don't think for a second that they've put their most recognisable songs at each end of the disc and padded out the middle with some random filler they had lying around the rehearsal room - far from it. If you can look beyond the rather embarrassing (and pretty funny) story told in the lyrics, 'Balls Deep' is a real gem, showcasing a slight Britpop feel to the skanking mayhem. 'Yes Please' is catchy as hell, and the furious end section is tailor-made to be bellowed along with at the more drunken gigs they play, and 'Time Travel' is quite possibly the best song they've written so far overall. It's actually quite a dour song, but they use this downbeat tone to their advantage - some delicate, echoey guitar lines flit in and out, Will's vocals are mournful and wistful without becoming mawkish and dreary, and though it does speed up at parts, it doesn't go completely balls-out at any stage, instead emphasising the slow-burning atmosphere of the lyrics.

This issue of restraint is probably my main criticism of other parts of the record - there is a feeling that they try to cram too much into certain songs. 'Random Inspiration' is the worst offender, as it seems to drag it's heels near the end, and ends up being about a minute too long, which dilutes the energy and punch of the song. I mean, I know bassist Dave Ja Vu's good, but do we need to hear his little bass solo another few times than we already do in the song? Personally, I reckon the final instrumental section would be better served in another song altogether, and trim this one down to keep it more succinct. This is the only song where it's really noticeable, and otherwise the mixing of different tempos and dynamics works very well, and is a core part of their sound, so I suppose all I'm saying is be careful of that problem rearing it's head again when writing new songs in the future. Perhaps Paul's drum work is still a bit slack, but considering how it was before, it's best to be grateful that he's made it this far.

In fact, any more criticism is needless nit-picking, because I really can't find anything else to moan about. What we have here is six strong songs that form a nice blueprint of My Third Leg's sound as of right now, but also where they could go from here, and perhaps that's the most exciting part - there's still a sense that there's more ascending to come from the band, as they continue to tighten up as a unit and gig relentlessly, and this E.P. is a good snapshot of where they are right now, and what to expect for the future.

Rating: 7.5/10
Standout Tracks: 'Going for a Drive', '3470 Miles', 'Time Travel'

Live: My Third Leg/Four Letter Cure - The Comedy Pub, Piccadilly Circus 22/10/10

It's been nearly 10 long months since I last checked out a local scene gig, which is an inexcusably long amount of time. Now that I'm safely out the other side of A-levels, coursework and exams in roughly one piece, and now looking forward to a gap year of doing precisely nothing except work and twiddle my thumbs a bit, I can turn my attention back to the scene, and tonight at a tiny subterranean bar tucked in the shadows of the neon lights of Piccadilly Circus, I decided to get a minor glimpse of what I'd been missing. At least, initially that was the plan.

Firstly, finding the damn place was a mission in itself, what with it being part of about 5 venues in the same street named 'The Comedy (blank)'. But having stumbled through pretty much all the variations of said venue title, I finally found the mystical set of stairs to ascend to the tiny basement bar which would form the setting for tonight's show. When I got there, I discovered that only one member of Four Letter Cure had actually showed up - I was told they were planning on calling quits after 2 more gigs anyway, so maybe they decided to speed the process up a bit? I dunno. I'm not gonna speculate further, and I'd be interested to hear from people about how the situation lies. Thankfully, all constituent parts of My Third Leg were there, plus what could be called a half-decent little entourage for them. Also, it's worth noting that I was being facetious earlier - there was a third band scheduled for this evening, but I saw nothing in their sound check or tunes to persuade me to stick around for their set. In fact, if anything, the sound check put me right off them - old good-time rock 'n' roll with watered-down rock, no roll, a desperate lack of a good time and a guitarist who had a bad case of head firmly stuck up own arse, with all the other members having to settle with mild case of face I want to punch hard. And keyboards that just shat on all the other instruments. I've heard bands with full horn sections not sound as messy as this, seriously. Oh, and buggering off after you've done your asinine and stupidly smug soundcheck and only arriving back at your own bloody show when it's your time to go on is only going to further people's impressions that you think you're bigger than you are and are therefore complete pretentious twats. Right, that's the surplus bile dispensed with, on with the two (or rather one and a half, ish) other good bands here tonight.


Four Letter Cure (5/10) - or more like Two Letter UnSure considering as only frontman Hassan Afenah was present, along with two acoustic guitars (one rather cheap and battered) and his sidekick Asher on extra guitar and vocal duties - were on first, and it's rather hard to be harsh to them, considering the circumstances. If I tell you that they were practicing their set when I arrived, that'll tell you the level of preparation they were afforded, and considering it all, they did pretty well. What they lacked in tightness and accuracy, they made up for in easy humour, and when the stars did align and the two guitars and sets of vocals matched together relatively seamlessly, there was definitely promise on show. It might be an easy comparison to make, but a Torn Out vibe emanated from them, and Hassan's gravelly and soulful voice worked surprisingly well out of a harsh electric context, and their set showed a nice talent for reworking powerful punk songs into campfire acoustic singalongs - oh, and they earn additional kudos for nearly pulling off a great cover of Rise Against's 'Like The Angel', complete with an aborted attempt on the solo.




















To give the next part of the review some context, my first local scene show was the epic all-day event in August 2009. That day, a band named the Constant G's graced the outside stage, and found themselves in a similar situation that Four Letter Cure found themselves in tonight - hastily re-organising their lineup and set in liu of members bailing out at the last minute. Their set was therefore pretty shambolic, but in keeping with the spirit of the day, it was still fun and full of energy. This hastily cobbled together lineup eventually formed the basis for the band we see before us tonight, My Third Leg (7.5/10). Maybe it's because of the not great first impression I got, and I might be being overly harsh on them, but I did view them for a while as a handy band to open every LSP show assembled - a nifty and fun little band to open every LSP show, but still, not a band I took entirely seriously. But in the time I've been away from the scene, they've really began to go places and, if you'll pardon the phrase, get their shit together. They've recorded an EP of material, been touring hard and working on their stage craft, and with a full album and possibly bigger venues and full-length tours on the horizon, M3L are ready to start really making a name for themselves in the scene - and smash any lingering and unwarranted cynicism I had about them through the bar windows and out into the street. In the end they did just that, and in some style too, with a set that mixed everything that was always good about them - plenty of skanking riffs and an eye for fun - with improved dexterity, confidence and precision. Singer and lead guitarist Will Woodrow has really grown into his frontman duties - he now has a unique character to his voice and I was impressed with how he flitted from delicate lead lines to high-intensity strumming with ease. Probably the biggest improvement of all is how the band now gel as a unit - transitions from time signatures and styles flow a little more now, where before they felt forced and a bit strained, and part of that credit has to go to the rhythm section of bassist Dave Ja Vu and drummer Paul Smith. Sure, Paul still arses up the odd fill, but he is now a technically solid drummer, and he and Dave create a foundation for Will and skank-tastic rhythm guitarist Mike Smith to lock into. And let's face it, it probably wouldn't feel right if Paul didn't arse at least one thing up.



















So to sum up, a very enjoyable and fun evening, and a slice of humble pie is in the microwave as we speak. Now time to knuckle down for what should hopefully, fingers crossed and touch wood, be an epic in the making down in Deal tomorrow. See you there!

Live: Jaya The Cat and others (All-Dayer) - The Red Lion, Gravesend, 8/8/09

For some reason or another, I didn't expect this all-day event to be a tremendous occasion, probably because I had become so disillusioned with local-band gatherings after a trip to a recent YOG gig in my home town of Swanley. I also hadn't heard of many of the bands performing - only the Moo Woos, who I had seen twice before, and Jaya the Cat, who I had been given a folder worth of tracks by one of the promoters, were acts I recognised. The location didn't appear to be anything special either - a small club strapped onto the side of a relatively small boozer tucked down a backstreet in the middle of shipping warehouses and factories in one corner of Gravesend, with a smoking courtyard and tiny outdoor stage out the back. When I finally arrived at around 45 minutes past the scheduled start of the show, some very bizarre noises were emanating from the outside stage (I'm pretty sure it was The Cripples) and the first band inside were still sound checking. Still nothing yet to persuade me that this would be an amazing day out.

Then the band in question completed their sound check, turned to face stage front and let rip with what can only be described as a sonic punch in the face.
























The band were The Submission (10/10), and they proceeded in the next half-hour to remind me why I fell in love with punk rock in the first place. They played hard, fast (think Ramones-type tempo), anthemic, buzzsaw punk rock of the purest kind, and matched the energy of the songs with a furious delivery, led by talismanic frontman Richard Harris, who jumped, hollered, headspan, and not so much as strummed his guitar as beat it to within an inch of it's life. The rest of the band followed his lead and played to the top of their strengths - drummer Stu Cavell was a powerhouse at the back, guitarist Phil Morgan augmented the guitar assault nicely, and bassist Sadie Williams anchored it all with a bass performance that put me in mind of the likes of the Clash's Paul Simonon or Ali McMordie from Stiff Little Fingers - hardly flashy, but solid and impressive, and she was never in any danger of being drowned out in the mayhem, as some punk bassists can be. As for the songs? Again, comparisons to punk legends such as the 'Fingers and the Clash are inevitable - indeed, band anthem 'You Just Don't Know' sounded like it could have been lifted from The Clash's self-titled debut LP, which is high praise indeed. When they gave the rock 'n' roll national anthem, Chuck Berry's 'Johnny B Goode' a 100mph remix, I was sold. And when they finished with a rip-roaring version of the legendary 'White Riot', my mind was made up - The Submission are my new favourite band. They successfully tapped into the original spirit of punk rock much better than 90% of more successful 'punk' bands around today, and I certainly had no qualms in spending the princely sum of £2 on their 5-track E.P, which I shall be reviewing soon.




















So a fantastic start to the day, and the band charged with continuing where The Submission left off were A Boy Named Girl (7/10), who hit the outside stage about 5 minutes after The Submission finished. ABNG were advertised on the fliers as pop-punk, but the phrase pop-punk puts me in mind of bubblegum acts such as New Found Glory. ABNG put me more in mind of the slightly heavier pop-rocking of acts such as Kids in Glass Houses, and even maybe Lostprophets circa Liberation Transmission. Certainly singer Phil was doing his best Ian Watkins impression throughout the set, or however good he could get, as the band were quite tightly crammed onto the small outdoor stage. The songs lacked the immediacy of other acts, and maybe that's what let them down a little, as their songs are the kind that may take repeated listens to get used to. I will admit that it wasn't particularly my type of thing, but I still give them good credit for putting on an energetic show, and to be honest, anybody who was given the task of trying to follow The Submission were having a lot asked of them. Also, their choice of cover was inspired - Ricky Martin's 'Livin' La Vida Loca' - and it certainly got people dancing and singing in the smokey courtyard. Full credit to them for that.




















Back inside, and I was eagerly awaiting the start of The Moo Woos (9/10) set, having seen them twice before - once at a battle of the bands in Bluewater, where they performed last and blew away every band that had followed them, and another supporting the legendary Stiff Little Fingers. Once again, they didn't disappoint, with another energetic and powerful set of anthems, including the catchy 'Chelsea Girl' and 'Keep Your Eyes Peeled'. Just as before, they let loose their cover of Green Day's 'Basket Case' to a rapturous reception from the audience, and the finale to their set was inspired - a combined circle pit and singalong, if you can call it that, to their anti-chav anthem 'Fuck Drum 'n' Bass' with the crowd joining on the Neg-style 'Whoop Whoop's of the chorus. Great fun.

Another thing that hit me about the event came when Submission singer Richie ended up standing right next to me during the Moo Woos set. When I got talking to him, he was friendly and very knowledgeable about punk, and the same was true for the rest of his band - there was not a hint of arrogance or 'I'm in a band' aloofness about any of them, and the same was true for the other band members who I chatted to throughout the day. Nothing much in that you may think, but that was one of the great things about the day - there was never an 'us and them' divide between bands and fans; they all mingled and drank together as one. It made it something special - you could see a band rip it up on stage, then be sitting having a beer with them after the set.





















Up next on the outside stage were acoustic two-piece Torn Out (8/10). All I had heard by them was a rough two-track demo loaned to me by the same promoter who sent me the Jaya the Cat stuff, and I was quite impressed by the way they managed to craft energetic and soulful songs with only two guitars and singer Ben Smith's gravelly voice. They kept that same feeling of gritty soul throughout their set, and while obviously they were never going to match the other bands on the bill in terms of energy and sonic bombast, they still managed to win over the crowd with a great set. Bassist Steve Knight added an extra dimension to what would have essentially been a solo singer/songwriter project with his clever bass runs and additional shouted backing vocals, but the aspect of Torn Out which sticks out for me is the honest of the lyrics - when Ben sings emphatically 'We spend our lives chasing lost nights, and we won't go home until, we know, that, Saturday's dead to us' on crowd favourite and set closer 'Chasing Lost Nights', you know that it's coming from somewhere genuine, and it's not being put on as some kind of act. Much respect.





















Back inside, and it was time for the one-off reunion of local scene heroes Drop the Pop (8/10). I'd heard a lot about them but never actually heard a note, so I count myself glad that I managed to catch them for this last-ever show, as I was able to bare witness to their impressive live show. The songs themselves were sometimes difficult to keep up with, veering as they did through several different tempos and time-signatures, but they still proved very entertaining, loaded as they were with plenty of energy and danceability. What also helped was the high technical skill of the three members - singer Jak was a powerhouse singer and let loose many angry noises from his guitar throughout the set, bassist Joe Josland provided neat backing vocals and skillful bass playing, and drummer Josh proved the famous Strummer-ism 'You're only as good as your drummer' 100% correct by flipping between beats and tempos with ease. What also helped was the laugh-out-loud funny stage banter between songs, showing that there appeared to be an easy chemistry between the three members. It is a genuine shame that this is the last we may hear of DTP, as they struck me as a tight and powerful trio capable of great things. Still, as send-offs go, they well and truly head out on a high.





















I'm pretty sure I remember The Constant Gs (6/10) featuring next outside, although I may have got them and Torn Out mixed up. Either way, the Gs took to the stage despite missing 2 regular members - guitarist Dan Woodrow and bassist Andy Cherry. The stand-in guitarist, Dave Joseph, had apparently a single day to learn the set, while stand-in bassist Sam Van Leer had all of - wait for it - 20 minutes to do the same thing. Alongside this, drummer Paul Smith had a massive hand in organising the entire all-day event itself. I could easily rip into the Gs, but all factors considered, they actually did a good job. Technically they were sloppy, with the occasional falling out of time here and there, but really, it was the kind of day where you could forgive slip-ups like this, and the band still gave it their all nonetheless, with Paul in particular looking like he was trying to do damage to his kit rather than play it, and they still received a hearty round of applause at the end of their set.

From here until Tyrannosaurus Alan my memory of events is a little hazy, probably because I was looking after a friend outside who was a little worse for wear, and also sharing some drinks with the Submission and friends outside, but I do remember catching a little bit of 7 Day Conspiracy, and thinking that they were very powerful and punky. I've defiantly made a note to catch them again sometime, as the little bit I saw of them was certainly promising. I also remember catching a little bit of Beng Beng Cocktail on the outside stage, and thinking 'what on Earth is that bizarre noise from the stage?' Again, another band to check out properly sometime in the future. I also missed The Sketch/Call Off the Search, but happily I did manage to pick up one of their free 3-track EPs that were being given out, so I'll give that a listen and get back to you on that.

By the time Tyrannosaurus Alan (9/10) hit the inside stage, it was starting to get late, and a healthy amount of drinks had been consumed by this stage, which meant that proper, full-on skanking could begin. And if the skank pit that was waiting to happen was the proverbial stick of dynamite, T-Alan were the ones to light the blue touch paper and stand well back. They packed the stage out with a healthy array of horns and saxophones, and proceeded to belt out a set of tight, high-energy ska which got everybody in the room moving. If you're looking for immediate comparisons, Reel Big Fish come to mind, but for me they seemed to recall the sheer, almost out-of-control ska of such legends as Bad Manners, Big 5 and The Selecter, but, more refreshingly, they created a sound which was very much their own - they blended high-energy punk with ska well, and when you throw in Simon Champ's often rapped verses, you have a truly unique combination guaranteed to whack a smile on your face and get you moving. If The Submission tapped into the original spirit of punk rock earlier on, then T-Alan certainly dug into the spirit of original ska, to the delight of the crowd (including myself).

Pity The Plan (7.5/10), the last act on the outside stage - not only did they have to follow on from T-Alan's skankathon, they also had to act as the penultimate act of the evening and provide a warm-up to the night's biggest act, Jaya the Cat - easier said than done. However, they managed it very nicely with a set of fast-paced ska-punk, often veering more towards the punk end of ska-punk, but still getting the crowd skanking nicely. If I did have a criticism of them, and this is only what prevents them from scoring higher, is that the songs did seem to blend together and all sound the same after a little while, and didn't have the immediate hook of, say, T-Alan. That's not to say they were bad songs - they certainly got the crowd moving and using up what was left of their energy, especially in one song where they encouraged a 'skank-off', with the winner getting a Plan T-shirt. Guitarists Tom Crabb and Andrew Keech pretty much shared frontman duties between them, and one thing the band as a whole couldn't be faulted for was their energy - despite the late hour (it was getting on for around half past ten) they still gave a hearty and rip-snorting performance. Hats (or should that be flat-caps, in Keech's case?) off to them for that, and I look forward to getting hold of some of their studio tracks for a listen.





















The all-dayer was at last reaching it's conclusion, and there was a real sense of excitement around the headliners - the anticipation in the room was all to see. The band in question, of course, was the legendary Jaya The Cat (10/10), and they provided the perfect end to proceedings. Everybody by this stage was tired from lots of dancing (and skanking in some cases), hoarse from shouting and singing, and in some cases pretty drunk, and Jaya provided the ideal finale with a relaxed and mesmeric set of punk-tinged reggae grooves. It's certainly safe to say that they lived up to the hype surrounding them, and they didn't miss a beat. Frontman Geoff Lagadec had the audience in the palm of his hand and his gravelled-throated vocals fitted the music perfectly, and he lead from the front. Particular praise must go to the rhythm section of Jeroen Kok (bass) and Dave 'The Germ' Germain (drums) for providing a tight yet groovy foundation for Lagadec, guitarist Jordi "Pockets" Nieuwenburg and keyboardist Jan Jaap Onverwagt to build on. Nearly everybody used whatever they had left of their voice to sing along to fan favourite 'Thank You Reggae' and, when they did ramp up the energy and tempo, such as on the angry anti-establishment anthem 'Final Solution', they did this in impressive style without even breaking sweat. However, they did seem more at home with the slower reggae and even calypso melodies, and to be honest so were the crowd, who had skanked themselves to a standstill by this stage. Also, extra credit must go to Lagadec for the moment when he saw me and a couple of my friends trying to get a whaft of the floor fan he had pointed up at him, knelt down and turned the fan around to face us so we could have a nice cooling off for a few songs. Just as had been done so many times already in the day, the barrier between performer and audience had been smashed, and despite the fact that Jaya were probably the most well-known - certainly internationally - of all the acts playing, they still never came across as aloof rock stars - they were simply a bunch of guys inviting everybody to join in with their punky reggae party, and never was that truer than on the closing track, an extended jammed version of the classic Willie Williams track 'Armagideon Time' which brought the event to an amazing close.

So, final thoughts on the near-10 hour marathon of music and mayhem? Fantastic. It was completely free of poseurs or anybody who was simply there because it was 'hip' or 'trendy' - it was a gathering of people all there to celebrate ska, punk and reggae, drink, dance and have a good time. And that's exactly what they got. The original spirit of punk rock and ska was alive and well, and I cannot thank enough Local Support Promotions, and especially brothers Mike and Paul Smith, for organising and staging an awesome day's entertainment, and one of the defining moments of this summer for me.

Same time next year, everyone?

Photos by Ben Thompson and Paul Smith.