Live: The Submission w/guests - The Beer Cart Arms, Canterbury 3/4/11

Overpriced train tickets for a lengthy train journey into the heartlands of Kent for a show in a quaint pub in Canterbury involving a set by a punk rock band from Deal? Talk about a stonking case of deja vu. As homes away from home go for a band, The Beer Cart Arms isn't a bad place to set up shop at; indeed, this was the venue in which The Submission made their return from exile to the live circuit. Their much-vanted comeback is still gathering pace, although it stuttered slightly in Gravesend a month or so ago, so tonight wouldn't be a bad night to see how that things are progressing. Oh, and they're introducing a new member tonight. Who plays Hammond organ. Intrigued? My eyebrow didn't so much raise as fly off into the sky when I first heard the idea, so this show is worth checking out for curiosity value alone.

Before then, though, we have two relatively un-punk support bands to tide us over. Things get started with alt-rockers Left of the Right Side (68%) who are on the verge of leaving a great first impression on this reviewer - right up until the vocalist Rich (no, not that one) starts singing/screaming/choking on a dead insect. Or maybe the choking and screaming were actually the same thing? My mistake. Suffice to say, the vocals are not a strong point - clunky, forced, and as subtle and well-placed as a chainsaw in a knitting convention, and whilst they aren't totally terrible, a bit of restraint may not go amiss - too many times inadequate splurges of screamo get splattered over the music when it would've paid to just shut up for a few seconds. It's a shame that they are hamstrung in this way, because it detracts from the music. And in this area, the band are strong. It's often the case that bands with one guitarist often have more flair and creativity to their guitar playing then bands with twice as many six-stringers, and that's definitely the case with Shaun. He flits from spidery leads and imaginative spirals and crackles of notes in the verses and bridges to the prerequisite big crunching chords at the choruses with reckless abandon, with the rest of the band following suit. Overall, the band are a bit hit-and-miss - whilst the creative guitar riffs are often well-placed and welcome, the vocals, as already discussed, are not, and some songs get tugged down by their own ambition. However, having so much ambition that it sometimes chokes the songs is preferable to having none at all, and their prog-pop-rock mix has the potential to be something hitherto unheard of around these parts. Stick at it, fellas - with a bit of tinkering (and maybe a bit less screaming), you've got the potential to move up the gears and become a strong band to be admired.

Which is more than can be said for our next band, We Cry Hero (24%). It constantly amazes me just how richly rewarded mediocrity is in the general music scene currently, with vacuous tripe infesting the charts and radio stations. Who are this invisible majority constantly putting God-awful crap like The Vaccines at the top of the charts and catapulting them to stardom? Well whoever you are, I hope you're proud; this is the sort of garbage you've created. A band whom think it's acceptable to have a singer doing an atrocious Patrick Stump/Caleb Followill vocal impression and intentionally having the stage presence of a Gerry Anderson puppet of Peter Crouch. Or to have a guitarist (with a white Telecaster up round his shoulders, natch) ironically wearing kiddies socks and neon yellow plastic sunglasses, whilst intentionally standing around looking bored. Or to infest our ears with a set full of mediocre wannabe-epic musical earnesty, then unironically throw in a Justin Timberlake cover. Or to have horribly out-of-place Hellogoodbye keyboards and knock-off U2 guitar lines pollute every song whilst shunning the bass and drums to make room for the frontman's self-inflated fucking ego. This is a band riding the shirttails of the very worst excesses of modern rock 'n' roll music - hipster fashions and behavior, unfulfilled ambitions of epicness, mediocre lyrics that manage to be both arrogant, cloying and pathetically earnest at the same time, awkward clashes of generic indie guitars, beige pianos and turgid electonica, aloofness disguised under the paper-thin veneer of irony - all mixed into one horrible gelatinous mass. They're not the worst band I've ever seen; Dr Goon still take that coveted award. But they were a pile of rotten giblets and tube station toilet runoff with comically awful musical quality. At least WCH can fucking play their instruments. And they're not quite as bad as Brokencyde, a band so unbelievably atrocious as to lead you to question your faith in humanity. What they are, though, is an indictment of rock music of this era - bland, uninspiring dross with no depth, imagination, spark or creativity, just happy to wallow in it's own mediocrity, content in the knowledge that that will be enough to elevate them to popularity. The last time popular rock 'n' roll music got this bad was the fag-end of the 1970s, and that time, punk rock was the explosive counter-blast that formed as a result. Fucking hell, do we need something similar now. There's plenty of bands around in the scene who could lead the charge - who fancies taking the mantle?

If we're talking specifically about a punk rock revival to kick mainstream rock squarely in the bollocks, The Submission (86%) would likely be one of the bands at the forefront of the rebellion. They start their set with something of an ambush - newie 'Sunkissed Paradise' catches everyone by surprise when it suddenly snarls into life, but from there on it's full steam ahead as frontman Richard Harris once again leads the troops into battle. The last time I saw the trio was back in Gravesend, and I speculated there that perhaps they were struggling to recapture some of the magic of old, and while tonight still isn't quite as stellar as previous classic 'Mission nights of yore, it's definitely a step in the right direction as they turn in a spirited performance. Drummer Matt Browne is continuing his baptism of fire, and tonight he is reliable if unspectacular behind the kit. Some songs suffer a little from being just a half-beat too slow, and the intensity of the hits don't quite match the snarl of the songs. It's simply a case of fine-tuning, that's all; now that the songs are learnt and can be reeled off without a problem, perhaps now is the time to start hitting harder and faster to help bolster the attack. Anyone who can blast their way through the rocket-speed 'Revolution' without a hitch is clearly up to the task, and I'm sure this will come with time either way. Whilst I'm riding the nit-pick train, I still believe bassist Sadie Williams' backing vocals are a smidge too quiet in a live setting; the promise is there to add an extra dimension and trade off Rich's growlin' and howlin', but has not yet been taken fully. None of the above points are really deal-breakers, and when you have songs as strong as 'I'm Lazy', 'Stay in Action' and 'You Just Don't Know' up your sleeve, it's all rendered moot anyway. Sadie's still comfortably out on her own as one of the very best bassists in the scene, and it's frightening how Rich can be so boundlessly energetic and passionate on such a consistent basis. The usual electric leg-stomps, head-spins, guitar-swings, searing solos, and spastic jerks and flails are all present and correct, and he still remains an example to all up-and-coming rock 'n' roll bands as to exactly how to be a rock 'n' roll frontman.

Well, we've waited long enough, so here comes the big selling point for tonight - the addition of Sadie's father Cliff onto a spectacular Hammond organ at stage right midway throughout the set. I have to be honest, I had absolutely no idea how the bubbling warmth of an organ would fit with the firestorm guitar riffs, but I'm happy to once again say my cynicism was ill-founded, as it normally is. In the same way Simon Beck's classical Wurlitzer piano bursts add a sprinkling of refinement to The Skanx's sound, Cliff's classy organ riffs flow effortlessly into the mix and bring something hitherto unheard of to the party without blunting the trademark razor edge. Not only does it bolster already existing anthems, with 'Reggae Rock Rebels' probably being the biggest beneficiary, but it opens the path up for experimentation, and we get a glimpse of that when the band roll into an impromptu jam of Little Richard's 'Long Tail Sally' with gleeful grins on faces. Its in these four minutes or so that the band seem to have the most fun they've had since returning to the circuit.

Perhaps this is what they've been missing? Possibly so, but it's heartening to see them genuinely enjoying themselves again, and whilst I was premature in declaring them back to their former glories, they're on the right track, and making steady progress. And when there's bands like We Cry Hero polluting the circuit like a wet fart in an elevator, bands like The Submission are needed more than ever.

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.

The Submission - No Man's Land E.P.

It is often said that sometimes the very best in people comes out in times of adversity. If that's the case, then one would expect this EP to be a gold-plated, sparkling diamond of musical genius and genre-defining mastery that reconfigures your very perceptions of music as an art form. Or at least to have some pretty ace tunes on it. Now that The Submission are back on the circuit, it's easy to forget that it wasn't long ago that the very existance of the band was in doubt, and this EP is a product of those sour sessions. Produced just over a year ago, it's the last recorded output featuring drummer Stu Cavell, who departed in acrimonious circumstances a few months later. Tensions were high, gigs were sparse and the future was uncertain. So, is this a record that gathers that ill-feeling together into a titanic super-record bursting with epic catharsis?

Erm, no.

In fact, the more I listen to it, the more it becomes clear to me that, rather than being a medium to vent the frustration hanging in the air, it's more just a snapshot of a rather negative moment in time. The recordings feel flat and jaded, as if reflecting the circumstances; rather than rising above the negativity, the EP tends to drag it's heels and wallow in it instead. The production values aren't quite up to Rich Harris' stellar standards, with the drums in particular sounding flakey and insubstantial, like a toy drumkit or some chocolate box tins. Rich's vocals themselves also suffer, with some of the trademark livewire crackle and spark missing from the vocal lines, and choruses that were intended to soar majestically just end up sputtering pathetically off the ground.

What stops this record from being anything other than an unnessecerily well-packaged drinks coaster are the songs themselves, which are very good. They eschew the familiar classic punk rock template and take on a distinctly folksy approach, as if Rich spent most of the sessions listening to old Flogging Molly and Pogues records. So there's plenty of chaotically fast drumbeats and gang-vocal choruses, and when this is married to Rich's strong ear for melody and chord progressions, you have a matrimony to last a lifetime. 'Wake Up' in particular sounds like an early Flogging Molly demo with less instrumentation. The highlight of the E.P. is the title track, which opens with a haunting solo ballad section piped through what sounds like an old gramaphone record, with Rich's yearning vocal lines sounding particularly effective. However, this is The Submission we're talking about, so it should be no surprise that the lighters-in-the-air balladry doesn't last that long, before the whole song takes a nitrous oxide bottle up the sphincter and roars into chaotically fast folk-punk mayhem, but the fact that it never looses it's soul alleviates it above other attempts at this style of music - yup, turns out these punk rockers can turn out a half-decent love song, too. A decent version of Eddy Grant's 'Police on my Back' done in Clash style bookends the disc, with bassist and unsung heroine of the piece Sadie Williams particularly enjoying herself on the chorus runs.

Overall, there's just something a bit disappointing about the record - it's not bad, just let down by the fact we know that they can do better, and have done since then. It's a product of it's environment, and now that the band have moved on from those days, it serves as a signpost of where they were at that particular point in time. The fact that the two originals on here are still worthy of your attention just prooves their strength as songwriters, and if you can find a copy, it's still worth a look.

Rating: 71%
Standout Track: 'No Man's Land'.

Live: The Submission w/ Melchett - The Beer Cart Arms, Canterbury 3/3/11

Under normal circumstances, it would take something pretty special to get me to spend an hour and a half on various trains and cold platforms heading down to a pub in a quaint old town in the middle of Kent on a weeknight. That, or a mild case of solvent sniffing. Not that the Beer Cart Arms isn't a nice venue - it's a pleasantly spacious and atmospheric pub in the quaint town centre of Canterbury, certainly. But a midweek gig with a journey time like that? Well, it just so happens that tonight is one such special event: the return of one of my favourite bands in the local scene to action after a lengthy hiatus. The weight of expectation is hanging in the air like tense fag smoke. Don't call it a comeback? Well, what else can I call it? After four months or more of inactivity and a lineup reshuffle, it's hard to really know what to expect tonight. It could be a flaming, embarrassing disaster on a par with letting off an eggy fart in a crowded elevator, or a glorious success that makes Elvis Presley's '68 comeback special pale in comparison. Time to find out.

But before all that can take place, three dodgy-looking blokes step onto the stage, exchange knowing grins and dive headlong into a set of hook-infested hardcore punk shenanigans. "So this is Melchett (76%), then?" I say to Captain Bastard and the Scallywags frontman Andrew Keech, who is there along with several other members. "Yeah. Basically, they're like Snuff" comes the reply. And simplistic as it is, he's got it just about spot on, as the hometown boys proceed to rocket through their repertoire of chaotically fast melodic hardcore punk. Snuff, as well as perhaps some early NOFX genetically spliced in with a bit of Dillinger Four just about covers Melchett's sound, and it's a very entertaining sound too, delivered with plenty of energy. The drumming in particular is tremendous, and puts me in mind of Brandon Barnes of Rise Against - deceptively (to look at at least) powerful and precise. In between songs, banter is rife, and often the audience dictates what song will be played next; what, you thought they had organised their own setlist and stuff like that? Don't be so bloody ridiculous! There's plenty of gooning around and we-don't-have-a-bloody-clue-what-we're-doing banter, as well as some technical cock-ups, but it's all taken in good humour, and this shouldn't overshadow the fact that their songs are actually very strong. It's up to the band now whether they go on to fulfill that promise, and I look forward to seeing them again, whenever they may be.

So here's the news, then: The Submission (88%) are back, and frankly, I have no idea what the bloody hell I was getting so worried about earlier. In fact, such worries are brutally kerb-stomped to death within seconds of the thumping 'Number One Sensation' crashing into life to ignite the start of the set. Frontman Richard Harris expunges several months' worth of frustration within the first five minutes, flailing, jerking, thrashing and bellowing madly into his microphone with a ruthless, steely determination in his eyes. His delivery is explosive, his words evocative, his rage focused - just like old times, then. I guess some things never change, right?

But really, you've heard me raving on many times before about Mr Harris' stage persona - him going nuts on stage is about as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning, after all - so instead, let's focus on what has changed since we last saw Deal's finest. Well, the obvious place to start would be with the new boy, drummer Matt Browne, who in his first live performance with the band, simply tries as best he can to suppress the inevitable nerves and just keep up with the others, which is an achievement in itself when you think about it. To his credit, blink and you'd miss the two or three slip-ups he does make, but what's more important is that he really does find his groove on several songs, and we get a glimpse of the destructive power he has the potential to unleash when he really gets going. It only appears in fits and starts tonight, but give him a little while to bed in to life in The Submission and this may well become the norm, which is a real shot in the arm for the band's future prospects.

The other big difference is that the band have downsized to a simple power trio template, with no rhythm guitarist, and this has more of an effect on the group than you might think. Obviously the versatility of being able to call on another guitar to keep the riffs going whilst Rich goes all rock god and unleashes wailing solos is missed tonight, particularly on the classic 'I'm Lazy'. But having said that, no songs are that much the worse off for it, and the trade-off is that bassist Sadie Williams is thrust more to the fore than ever before. She's effectively tasked with holding the songs together on a tight leash all on her own, a responsibility she handles effortlessly and confidently; not that she ever had a problem with holding things together before, of course. It's noticeable that she has more of a spring in her step - perhaps she trod on the same mains electricity cable that Rich obviously had inserted up his arse earlier, because there's more carefree jumping around than previous shows, and her backing vocals are much more audible, serving to beef out the already muscular tunes on display. Alongside Rich's lunatic spazzings of energy, she is even more assured and comfortable than ever onstage.

Oh yeah, the songs themselves. It's not unfair to say that the setlist has a hybrid feel about it, with Matt still yet to learn the entirety of the 'Mission's vast back catalogue. Nevertheless, there are still old favourites to enjoy: 'I'm Lazy', 'Reggae Rock Rebel' and 'You Just Don't Know' are as catchy and addictive as ever. 'No Man's Land' gets a rare airing tonight, and their cover of The Clash's 'Should I Stay Or Should I Go' (dedicated to Captain Bastard himself, Tom Gardener) ends the set in stomping style. But really, it's the two brand new songs that steal the show. '...Sensation' is a brave but inspired choice to start the set, and it's gung-ho riffing drives the entire song forward. Both that and 'Sunkissed Paradise' show a marked evolution - they sidestep four-chord hooks for big, battering riffs full of muscle and melody, with evocative, snarling lyrics. Big targets are in their firing line now, and they're no longer restricting themselves to singing about not having a job or being a lazy tosser; not when they can take bold swipes at topics such as the troubles in the Middle East and beyond.

It's this limitless ambition and belief in their own abilities that gives an exciting signpost as to where The Submission will go next, but really, worrying about the future is for another day. Tonight, in the here and now, they successfully bury the months of frustration and dead-ends and re-ignite themselves as a force, and with the new drummer still bedding in and further songs and gigs in the pipeline, it's onwards and upwards from here. Welcome back, The Submission - we've missed having you around.

Headliner's Setlist:

1. Number One Sensation
2. Reggae Rock Rebel
3. I'm Lazy
4. Johnny Be Goode (Chuck Berry cover)
5. Sunkissed Paradise
6. No Mans Land
7. What If I Give Up
8. You Just Don't Know
9. Should I Stay or Should I Go (The Clash cover)
   

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

The Submission - Enjoy With Alchohol

This may come as a surprise to many of you, but one of my favourite albums of 2009 so far was not a punk rock album. Far from it. Despite AFI, Billy Talent, Green Day and Rancid all putting out fair-to-great albums this year, Nell Bryden's 'What Does It Take?' was my personal favourite for quite a while, and for quite a few simple reasons. Firstly, I'm a sucker for retro Americana sounds, which Bryden does impeccably. Secondly, and most importantly: she writes and performs with a real spirit of honesty and integrity that is missing from so much new music nowadays. It is soulful, beautifully down-to-earth, and well-crafted without being bent over a recording desk and being subjected to painful and pointless amounts of Pro Tools. This is not to say the above artists do not have honesty and integrity in their music, far from it, but Bryden, for me, offers the single best contrast possible to the hordes of manufactured, droid-like figures cluttering up the Top 40 with almost robotic beats and cliched lines. It's a refreshing blast, and a very enjoyable one too.

Now, you may have noticed that I said it was my personal favourite. That's because I've now got a new personal favourite, and guess what? It not only trumps 'What Does It Take?' in all the areas I highlighted above, but it's also an absolutely killer punk rock album. I now take great pleasure, ladies and gentlemen, in introducing you to The Submission, a band who are almost a living definition of the term 'punk rock', with 'Enjoy With Alcohol'.

Any readers of my reviews will know that The Submission are a personal favourite band of mine, having given them rave reviews for their 'Spaghetti Penis' EP and their chaotic performance at the Ska-Punk All-Dayer 2009, and when the band broke cover with their plans to bring out a 22-track album entirely consisting of originals, it was not an understatement to say that the levels of anticipation were high. It actually means that this review could be quite difficult; y'see, I want to try and remain neutral here, and not get bogged down in a sea of NME style 'this band will save your life' type eulogies, but to be quite honest, it's hard not to when you're being presented with such a glorious collection of pure-hearted, strong-minded anthems as this.

In my humble opinion, punk rock as a music genre is the perfect balance between blind rage and fury and catchy pop hooks. Too far down the blind rage path results in hardcore, and too far down the pop end results in bubblegum-style pop-punk. On this record The Submission go all-out to try and fit both ends of the spectrum into almost every single song they write, and what results are two to three-minute explosions of equal parts pure aggression and wonderfully catchy melodies. Sounds simple? What makes them so fantastic is the fact that The Submission do both so well, and what's more, the four individual members both stand out as individuals and simultaneously combine to create a well-oiled and tight-knit machine. Thankfully, both the songs themselves and the production (which, despite being a home-studio job, is very very good) give all the members their chance to shine, and they all gleefully take it with both hands. Frontman Richard Harris is a one-man wrecking ball of passion and fury in the vocal department, but very rarely does he have to resort to blind screaming to get his point across - his vicious snarl does that perfectly. The rhythm section is built on Stuart Cavell's near-destructive drum work, which blends chaotic rolls and crashes with iron-clad beat precision. The same could be said to some degree of bassist Sadie Williams, whose basslines flow in and out of songs like mercury; forming the musical backbone of a track one minute before spinning out on a subtle run or lick the next. It certainly guarantees that she doesn't fade into the background like too many rock 'n' roll bassists are guilty of nowadays. Not to be outdone, Harris and his partner in the six-string cohorts, Phil Morgan, lay down equal parts bruising and melodic riffs, and barely a single song goes by without a thrillingly chaotic solo or guitar break.

There are highlights aplenty across the album, and the first 10 tracks alone are 10 of the very best rock 'n' roll anthems you are likely to hear all year. The record kicks off with 'Stay In Action', an outrageously catchy and bouncy slice of ska-punk, before crashing into 'I'm Lazy', a celebratory two-and-a-half minutes of pure good-time rock 'n' roll, which then in itself gives way to 'No Tomorrow', which hammers out of your speakers on the back of an intro riff brilliantly purloined from The Clash's 'I'm So Bored From The USA'. If anybody can find me a better opening 10 minutes to a modern rock 'n' roll record, I will be glad to hear it, but for now, this sits proudly atop the pile.

Speaking of The Clash, this album could easily be renamed 'A History of Classic Punk Rock', such as it shamelessly nods to past legends such as The Clash, the Stiff Little Fingers, the Ramones and the Buzzcocks. This is hardly original stuff at all, but thanks to the sheer level of musical skill, energy and passion thrown at these songs, it may as well be. This is not blatant grave-robbing; this is an evocative celebration of how emphatically uplifting and powerful punk rock can be. The fabulous 'Soldier' is a good a tribute as any to the Fingers, particularly on account of it's anti-government vibe and rallying 'bring the troops home' message, delivered with almost feral, phlegm-spitting rage by Harris. In fact, it is as close as The Submission have got so far to writing an epic, running as it does at just over 5 minutes and opening and closing with a haunting military drum roll.

On the subject of anti-government diatribes, the blistering 'Government Lies' is a personal favourite of mine, and you can just tell that, somewhere, Johnny Ramone is hearing the fabulous four-chord riff which drives this vicious diatribe along - and he's grinning. The two highlights from the 'Spaghetti Penis' teaser EP - the Rancid-infused 'Reggae Rock Rebels' and the loud and proud 'You Just Don't Know' - are wheeled out here, and they slot neatly into the mayhem. There are only a couple of slight deviations to the overall formula - 'Discharge' opens with a menacing bassline before quickly exploding into a runaway freight train of low-fi, crackling guitar and Harris loosing his temper with the microphone, and 'Sanity' rides on the back of an almost slightly metal-style main riff.

I've racked my brains for criticisms, but the only one I can really think of is that I would have chosen another song to end the album on rather than 'She Said', which isn't quite an 'ending' song, despite being excellent. That's just a personal foible for me. You could perhaps throw the lack of changes in pace or experimentation charge at this, but to be honest, they have plenty of time on future releases to address that point. Right now, they are clearly having a lot of fun evoking the spirit of original punk rock, and I as a listener am having a lot of fun hearing the results. Long may The Submission keep producing records like this and touring with their incendiary live show.

Album Details
Label: Unsigned
Release Date: October/November 2010
Rating: 10/10.
Standout tracks: I'm Lazy, No Tomorrow, Soldier, Government Lies, You Just Don't Know, Get Up.

The Submission - Spaghetti Penis EP

I don't want to sound too righteous, but honestly, so many people who claim to be deeply into punk rock don't have a clue about it. I'm talking about the countless NME journalists and keyboard warriors on YouTube who constantly argue about what exactly 'is' punk and what 'isn't', and they've mostly been miles off the mark. NME are particularly guilty, along with many UK music publications, as they have been busy, in the past few years especially, championing the likes of Gallows as the 'saviours of punk rock'. Firstly, who decided that punk rock as a genre needed 'saving'? And secondly, whenever I listen to any of their tracks, all I hear is a messy, tuneless barrage of almost white noise, with the only lyrics being distinguishable being the odd expletive here and there amongst the sound of what seems to be Frank Carter trying to puke up his vocal chords. They certainly aren't 'saving' punk rock. I don't like the term 'saviors of (insert genre here)', but if you're gonna bandy it around, then I'd be very inclined to take it from Frank Carter and co and slap it emphatically on the backs of Richard Harris, Sadie Williams, Phil Morgan and Stuart Cavell, known collectively as The Submission.

I'm well aware of how bold a claim that statement is, but I stick by it. And that comes after witnessing just one frenzied half-hour set in a small club in Gravesend. And now we arrive at this 5-track EP, purchased for the princely sum of £2, presented as it is in a plastic wallet with the cover being what looks like an intense mosh pit. As visual embodiments of a band's sound go, this one is very effective. And I will say this right off the bat, I enjoyed this EP almost as much as I enjoyed seeing them live.

In terms of production, I've been warned by Rich that the quality isn't too great, but to be honest I had no problems with it. Sure, it's scratchy stuff, with the backing vocals not quite meshing with each other, and overall this is the polar opposite of the highly-polished, high-budget affairs many of us are more used to, but I wouldn't say it affects the quality of the music, and it may actually add something to it - it gives the music a slightly rawer edge which I think actually compliments it. Think along the lines of The Offspring and Green Day's respective pre-major label records, 'Ignition' and 'Kerplunk', and you have a fairly accurate picture.

The five tracks on here consist of three originals and two covers, and while the two covers - hugely enjoyable punk remixes of the '80s pop song 'Spin Me Right Round' and the rock 'n' roll classic 'Johnny B Goode' - are entertaining listens, the three originals are the songs that really merit praise here. It's easy enough to say that they are simple blasts of pure punk rock joy, but what makes them such entertaining listens is that they aren't just standard three-chords-and-that's-your-lot - every individual member injects extra life into the mayhem to take it up to another level. Rich hollers his vocals with wild abandon, but instead of just tuneless larynx-shredding, it meshes into the high-octane rhythms very well. He and fellow guitarist Phil intersperse the fast-paced riffs with thrilling and angular guitar breaks and solos to make the likes of Captain Sensible of The Damned or Brian Baker of Bad Religion proud, particularly on standout track 'You Just Don't Know'. Drummer Stuart drives things forward all the time, throwing in rolls and helter-skelter fills only where appropriate, and bassist Sadie augments the six-stringers' assault with some neat bass lines which bring to mind such famous punk bassmen as Mike Dirnt of Green Day or Paul Simonon of The Clash - hardly the centre of attention, more the glue which musically holds everything together.

Lyrically, do not look at the sniggery, blink-182-esque toilet humour of the title track as a guide, although it is funny in places. Instead, look at the aforementioned YJDK and the 'Reggae Rock Rebels' with it's fantastic skanking verses, as better guides for themes, the former being a powerful rant against those who look down their noses at others not quite like them, with Rich taking great pride in declaring: "I don't wanna ever be like you!" and the latter acting as a counterpoint, rallying the troops in emphatic style to break out of whatever humdrum town they may be stuck in (quite a common situation for many in towns across Kent), and when all four bellow the lines 'Jump up!/Shout out!/You're reggae rock rebels' with a ferocity that distorts the microphone, you can't help but want to join them.

Of course, this is hardly original stuff - the title track nabs a vocal line from the Stiff Little Fingers back catalogue, YJDK runs like a medley of all the best songs from the Clash's debut album, and RRR bounces along on a very much Rancid-style vibe. But at no point does it feel like blatant re-hashing of some dated concepts - the tracks all buzz with their own electricity and intensity, and are laden with hooks which are all their own, no matter how many nods to past legends they may make. And, ironically for a band who sing 'I don't think it really matters/whether you are, punk or not', The Submission are the best pure, 100% punk rock band I've had the pleasure of hearing in a long time, and one listen of this handful of tracks will leave you desperate for more.

If you can, go and see them live, and enjoy The Submission in their element. But if they don't happen to be playing anywhere near you tonight, then this little disc is a very enjoyable listen, and serves as a fascinating taste of things to come.

Rating: 8/10
Standout tracks: You Just Don't Know, Reggae Rock Rebels.

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.