First Past The Post

I went to see Andy Irvine at the Tyneside Irish Centre the other week; this is a review of the gig I did as my début piece for "The Irish Post"

With a musical career spanning more than half a century, Andy Irvine has a substantial body of work to his name. After abandoning plans for an acting career in August 1962, Irvine gravitated to the pub on Merrion Row that he celebrates in song; “O’Donoghue’s” is where he became immersed in the burgeoning Irish folk and ballad movement, though what Ronnie Drew would make of Irvine opting for Australian lager as his tipple of choice is another matter.  Johnny Moynihan, with whom Irvine founded the seminal 60s band Sweeney’s Men, may have been the person who introduced the bouzouki to Irish music, but it was Irvine who popularised it and remains the country’s foremost virtuoso on that instrument.

Surrounded by a bevy of arcane stringed instruments, such as the mandola and bass bouzouki, Irvine displayed his ability on each one in turn as he skilfully delved into his extensive back catalogue during an accomplished two and a quarter hour performance at Newcastle Irish Centre in front of a rapt and respectful audience. Each song was prefaced by a detailed explanation of the source of the number and while many, such as the Planxty classics “Arthur McBride” and “As I Roved Out,” which featured harmonica in the place of Liam O’Flynn’s pipes on the original, were from the canon of Irish traditional ballads, others displayed Irvine’s love of travel and embracing of other cultures. He transported us from the banks of the Lee to the glens of Antrim, as well as to New Zealand, The States and, most poignantly, Australia on “The Ballad of Ben Hall,” the story of a noted nineteenth century outlaw. Additionally, he gave an affectionate autobiographical take on his days as an itinerant hitchhiker stopping off in Slovenia at the end of the 1960s, with a love song to all the beautiful women he failed to woo in Ljubljana.

Irvine may not be as obviously political as his former Planxty bandmate Christy Moore, but there is a defined left wing sensibility in much of his work. He apologised for not being able to remember the words to a song in tribute to Limerick International Brigade hero Frank Ryan, choosing instead to do a number parodying Captain O’Duffy and the Blueshirts’ role in the Spanish Civil War. The final encore, “Never Tire of the Road,” saw Irvine paying tribute to his first musical hero Woody Guthrie, which included a rousing, heartfelt chorus that pointed out “you fascists are bound to lose;” if they’re up against Andy Irvine’s power and dignity, that much is certain.

Funny Handshakes

Issue 7 of The Popular Side is out on Sunday 19 April. It's the best one yet; well worth £1 or £2 inc P&P via PayPal to iancusack@blueyonder.co.uk - here's a short article I've penned -:

Two years ago on the last day of the season, I was playing in goal for Wallsend Winstons away to Pennywell Comrades at Silksworth in Division 4 of the North East over 40s League. The sun was dazzling, the wind blustery and the rutted pitch rock hard. Ten minutes from time, we were leading 1-0 when their central midfielder chested down a clearance from our defence, let it bounce once and smashed it perfectly into the top left corner. I didn’t have a chance. I don’t think I even moved. At full time, the first player I sought out to shake hands with was the fella who’d just scored past me. Sometimes you just have to acknowledge when you’ve been done by a piece of audacious skill, even when lightning strikes twice. You see, the year before, also on the last day of the season, the same bloke playing for the same team on the same pitch had scored a similar goal to give them the lead in the opening 10 minutes. At half time they lead by that strike. Just as we cleared a corner, the whistle went. Stood next to me was the goal scorer’ we had a brief chat and a laugh about the quality of his strike, before joining our respective team mates for a team talk. Nobody complained about my conversation.

The hours and days following a predictable, but still gut-wrenching fifth successive derby defeat, where cowardice rather than incompetence was the root cause, may not be the ideal time to discuss the merits of Corinthian gestures to opposition players. However, the Tim Krul handshake with Jermaine Defoe has garnered as much condemnatory comment as John Carver’s alleged tactics in the game as a whole. To be perfectly frank, I am not a fan of Krul. I believed when he came into the team that we had the basis of a genuinely world class keeper, who combined the brilliant reflexes of Shay Given, the finest goalie and finest gentleman I have had the pleasure of seeing play for Newcastle United in the 42 years I’ve followed us, with a physical presence that enabled him to command the area. However, as is so often the case with players of genuine talent at our club, initial promise has not translated into fulfilled potential. Undoubtedly Krul is a very good keeper, but he should be better; his distribution is atrocious and more concerning, he is highly susceptible to shots close to his body, resulting in a significant number of “soft” goals conceded.

Jermaine Defoe did not score a soft goal; he scored a wonder strike that was almost as good as Lauren Robert’s brace against Spurs in 2003. Krul was not unprofessional in congratulating Defoe; indeed it was the opposite, as he demonstrated an awareness of the craft and skill of a fellow professional doing his job to the best of his ability. Of course if Sky hadn’t intrusively poked their lens into the tunnel, we’d have been none the wiser about Krul’s gesture and about 50% of the NUFC related Twitter traffic on Easter Monday wouldn’t have been generated. There are many things to fulminate about our players these days, being a good sport isn’t one of them. Condemn Krul when he makes a mistake on the pitch, not when he doesn’t make one off it.

1979 Revisited: 2015 Music 2

My health and personal circumstances over the past few months haven’t been conducive to enjoying the world and all its glory, though I’ve still done my best to keep abreast of musical developments, by keeping my ears wide open. If I were to say to you that my two of my favourite albums of this year have been by The Pop Group and the Gang of Four, you may be entitled to wonder if the year in question is 1979; it isn’t, it’s 2015 and the most vital, provocative and engaging release thus far is Citizen Zombie by The Pop Group. It is without question a clear and logical move on from the band’s work from 35 years ago, still replete with stuttering, brutal funk agitprop and screaming vocals that tell of the heart of an immense darkness, served in a mix of heavy bass, scorched vocal chords and pounding rhythm of a band who sound infuriated and energised.

The mood continues on ‘Mad Truth’ which seems aimed squarely at the dancefloor. ‘S.O.P.H.I.A.’ is built around a bass line that breaks only for breath and a dose of paranoia from Stewart.  With its aggressively spoken words ‘Nations’ recalls the band’s earlier Amnesty Reports, while almost parodying the ‘Trainspotting’ mantra. ‘Age of Miracles’ is a joyous blend of bass and drum thud, syncopated guitars, sun bleached piano breaks and upbeat, if still fractious, vocals. Nick Cave observed that The Pop Group made 'violent, paranoid music for a violent, paranoid time' and we still live in violent, paranoid times, which is why Citizen Zombie is as important today as For How Much Longer Must We Tolerate Mass Murder? was in 1979.

As regular readers know, I adore Godspeed You! Black Emperor and news that a new album, Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress, was ready for release in late March had me in a high state of excitement, especially as it became clear that the album would be the live piece ‘Behemoth’ that has so captivated audiences over the last few years, even if they’ve not been anywhere near Newcastle since 2001. The opening track ‘Peasantry or Light Inside of Light’ was initially streamed as a taster and ranks alongside the band’s best. The guitar line has serious depth and sweeping portent.  It and the closing "Piss Crowns Are Trebled" are so intense and grandiose they are not songs but movements, either side of the trademark drones of ‘Lambs’ Breath’ and ‘Asunder Sweet,’ where feedback, strings and found sounds flesh out empty sonic spaces. Godspeed You! Black Emperor record and play instrumental pieces that exist to move the listener, using only the force of their deep, intense and important music. Trust them.  

When I ordered the Gang of Four’s What Happens Next from Rough Trade, they actually sent me a copy of Entertainment, which amused me no end. That 1979 release was perhaps the high water mark for all post punk, agitprop music and it endures to this day, as does 1981’a follow up, Solid Gold. Subsequent to that album, original bassist Dave Allen left to be replaced by Sara Lee. Drummer Hugo Burham bailed soon after 83’s dreadful Hard, leaving vocalist Jon King and guitarist Andy Gill to keep the project going at various levels of intensity until 2011, including a reformation of the original line-up in 2005 that I tragically missed out on seeing. Now King has gone and Gill has kept the name for this latest album, as well as recruiting a replacement singer in John Sterry. He has a pleasant enough voice and it complements Gill’s trademark scabrous guitar jitters that are as compelling now as in 1979, but the irony is that other than the opener ‘Where The Nightingale sings,’ it is the brace of tracks sung by Alison Mosshart from The Kills, ‘Broken Talk’ and the magnificent ‘England’s In My Bones’ that really stand out on this album. It’s good, it’s intense, it’s vital and impassioned, but it’s up against strong competition from The Pop Group and GY!BE in this year’s early season highlight releases. Well worth a listen though and I hope they tour.

Somehow I never quite got Belle and Sebastian, probably because they hit the scene during my itinerant years 99-02 and subsequent half decade of disengagement from music. That said, seeing them at the Sage on their greatest hits tour in 2010 was a superb show. Not owning any of their music, I was happy to accept a burned CD of their new album Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance from my mate Ginger Dave, especially as the opener ‘Nobody’s Empire’ is a superb, old school, Glasgow indie guitar song; a truly uplifting, melodic number. Strangely, other than the Stevie Jackson number ‘Ever Had A Little Faith?’ there is nothing else on this album that could be regarded as hewn from a similar rock. Instead it is a baffling mixture of cheesy euro disco  and sub Eurovision parodies, such as the mischievously titled ‘Enter Sylvia Plath.’ This album seems to have more in common with Abba and Brotherhood of Man than BMX Bandits and The Pastels and I really dislike parts of it, which probably makes up my mind about their May 16^th City Hall show and Glasgow SEC the Friday after, when I hope to be on union duties.

Other than Swans version of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart,’ I’ve never been a fan of Joy Division cover versions. The absolute nadir has to be Paul Young’s version of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart;’ I even prefer Russ Abbott’s version of ‘Atmosphere’ (yes I know…). I’ve never ever really been a fan of New Order, but I quite liked ‘Love Vigilantes’ and I thought the Oyster Band’s cover of that song was great. Consequently, when Topic Records announced that the March special offer was Oyster Band and June Tabor’s version of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ on 7” a quid, I jumped right in. I really wish I hadn’t, as it’s a rather dull reading with bellowing vocals that don’t suit the song at all; a deep female voice can work well, but not in this instance. Strangely the Oyster Band and June Tabor cover versions album and tour was greatly lauded and I remember being sad when I missed out on a ticket at a sold out Sage 2, but hearing this I may have had a lucky escape.

The only gig I’ve been to recently was Lee “Scratch” Perry at the Riverside (sic). A few words about the venue first; it isn’t the Riverside as we remember it and it’s a dump. Not only that, it’s one of the most disorganised places I’ve ever been to. The previous time there was for The Fall back in November 2011, when good old MES turned up about 45 minutes after he should have been on stage. Tonight, Lee Perry turned up on time and played from 9.30 until 10.50, which was great for the 11.00pm curfew. Sadly, the venue management were totally out of control at the end; during the encore people were being prevented from either going upstairs, where the only toilet is, or coming down. Punters were frustrated and in the end, the bloke who was the apparent manager, who was totally out of control, ended up assaulting at least 3 people for the “crime” of trying to leave the venue. The man was crazy and I sincerely hope the place sorts itself out before my next scheduled visit to see The Wedding Present on November 7^th.

As regards the Godfather of Dub; well, I hope I’m as active as he is at 79 years of age. I'd like scarlet hair like his too.Yes, he’s older and possibly even madder than my mam. Blessed by a superb backing band who enabled him to draw on elements from his entire back catalogue, switching effortlessly from genres of reggae from sweet lovers rock to more stern Rastafarian didacticism,  sounding like a heavy rock band at one minute and Van Morrison Moondance era the next, he put in a tremendous show. Anyone who appears on stage with a wheeled suitcase full of hats deserves your attention. The last encore was a crowd pleasing cover of “Exodus,” but I enjoyed the selections from The Upsetters’ Mighty Ape album best of all. Certainly an enjoyable gig and an important tick for the list of greats we all should see.

I’ve read a book as well you know. As a Fairport devotee and a lover of Sandy Denny’s voice, though someone who knew very little of her life after her departure following ‘Liege and Lief,’ Fotheringay excepted, I was delighted to accept the new biography I’ve Always Kept A Unicorn by Mick Houghton as an Easter present from Laura. It’s a detailed, exhaustive account, but perhaps too distant from the central figure to be truly affectionate. However, it certainly filled in gaps in my knowledge about her return to Fairport for Rising For The Moon. Sandy grew up in a nice house, in a nice street, with nice parents who supported her choice of career, but despite her sociable nature and obvious charisma, she was dogged by an insecurity that increased as her celebrity grew, and, by the mid-Seventies, was fuelled by heavy drinking and cocaine use that precipitated her death at the age of 31 after a series of falls.

Mick Houghton’s scrupulously researched biography draws a detailed picture both of Denny’s increasingly complex mental state and of the London folk scene of the time. If there are times, in chronicling Denny’s early career, when Houghton gets bogged down in detail, he nonetheless offers a revealing portrait of a close-knit and mutually supportive scene. As well as drawing on archive interviews and Denny’s private and previously unseen notebooks, Houghton has assembled an impressive roll call of interviewees in a work that is part oral history, part critical reflection, including interviews with the likes of Ralph McTell, Judy Collins, John Martyn, Linda Thompson, and Martin Carthy, whose remark “there was a hooligan busting to get out in Sandy” is particularly apt here. Later it was fame, followed by marriage and motherhood (in 1977, she gave birth to her only child, Georgia), that would prove suffocating. Thus, in her final years, the hooligan emerged. As this authoritative and comprehensive biography underlines, it was Denny’s combination of addiction, insecurity and self-doubt that caused her tragically early demise.

On Election Day 2015, I will be in hospital having an ultrasound scan to determine the precise nature of my on-going health issues. On Election Day 2010, my dear friend David Peace went to Easington Colliery in County Durham to interview veterans of the 1984/1985 miners’ strike to see how they felt about the legacy of that glorious, failed fight. The resulting text acts as a prefatory chapter to a selection of photographer Keith Pattison’s stunning visual account of the progress of the strike, combined in volume entitled No Redemption. It was the only one of David’s works I did not possess, until I found it in Northumbria University’s bookshop. Flicking through the pages, reading the memories of those brave men and women who fought so valiantly, I feel not despair or anger, but pride and hope. These bastards in charge can’t last forever; do what you need to on May 7^th.

So, where next? Well there’s Record Store Day next week, when I hope to pick up the Trembling Bells 7” and Wire’s eponymous new release. Live, it’s Andy Irvine at the Irish Centre on April 16^th and Band of Holy Joy at The Cluny on May 8^th. I’m sure I’ll write about these in turn.

Rolling Thunder Review

Easter is a great time for football. While extremist Christians may seek to force their weird rituals on a populace who are culturally at variance with such arcane beliefs, as most people seem to regard the holiday weekend not as a time to remember when Jesus died for his own sins, not mine, but rather as an excuse for a 4 day bender, I always look forward to the annual West Allotment Celtic v Whitley Bay game on the Friday and a Northern Alliance Cup Final on the Monday, which will be between Gateshead Leam Rangers and Grainger Park at Percy Main this year. No doubt the crowd will be mainly full of miserable, hungover blokes moaning about yet another calamity against the Unwashed, but it’s a game worth seeing isn’t it?

Holy / Maundy Thursday was dry, cool, overcast and windy; Good Friday was predominantly saturated. As I plodged to Tynemouth Metro for the journey to Benton, pools of fresh rainwater told of an overnight downpour. It was still teeming with rain at kick off; a decent crowd of about 300 gathered to see a tense, scrappy affair on a spongy pitch that cut up in sections, which ended 1-1. West Allotment would probably be pleased with a point, as it keeps them clear of the drop zone, though the fact they took the lead means they could view this as 2 points dropped.

At full time, the gents I was in company with began to debate what they’d do with rest of the weekend until 4.00 Sunday. It was easy for me; Saturday would include Benfield v Consett in the afternoon after the usual morning in the Over 40s, away to Whitburn. However, Friday wasn’t going to involve a day on the gargle unlike everyone else (and not just because of doctor’s orders either), but a trip to Kingston Park to see the opening game of the rugby league season between Newcastle Thunder and Barrow Raiders. This was an event I wouldn’t even have known about, if it weren’t for the free paper I had delivered last week. Carrying it from the hall to the kitchen recycling bin, I saw an advert for Thunder v Barrow, with an offer for free tickets for the first 10 people to email the club. I did as suggested and, by return, was told I’d won; the envelope with a pair of tickets arrived the next morning, which seemed a decent bargaining point with which to try and rekindle the spirit of dad and lad sports outings with him home from Leeds. Mind, the fact he’d been out to world Headquarters until half seven or something meant he wasn’t in the most communicative of moods, so no change there then. Our next excursion is to see Lee “Scratch” Perry next Friday, where conservation will presumably be impossible.

Other than watching Ben play both codes for club and school, I’ve only ever seen one live game of rugby in my life. Back in 2009 when he’d just started playing for Wallsend rugby league and Novocastrians rugby union, I decided to try and get involved, from an admittedly non-existent knowledge base. There was no point in trying to take him to see the Falcons as cheap tickets from Novos were available for most games and, having completely missed out on Thunder’s time in the Super League years ago, the junior section of the rugby league administrators had that side of the sport all sorted out. Ben got free tickets to Magic Weekend in Murrayfield, a trip to see St Helens v Wigan and the chance to act as a ball boy, as he did for an international between England and France at Doncaster, so it was up to me to try and instil a bit of local pride. We went to Gateshead Stadium to watch a Challenge Cup tie against Whitehaven that the home side won 42-38. I wouldn’t say I particularly understood the game, but I enjoyed the experience, aided by the input of an excited 14 year old who’d fallen head over heels in love with the 13 man code and I always thought I’d go again.

Ben had a season ticket with Thunder until 2011, when the continual change of players, sponsors and managers, not to mention a series of horrific losses including a 100 point reverse at Bramley, sapped his enthusiasm. A lack of sleep and a gallon of Peroni had done it for this game, but at least he pitched up with me to see the debut fixture for Newcastle Thunder, who have changed their name after ditching the vast and soulless Gateshead Stadium for the compact and soulless Kingston Park, which now boasts a state of the art 4G pitch. As I say, I’ve never seen the Falcons, nor did I see Blue Star during their ill-fated tenancy there, but I must have seen upwards of a couple of dozen NUFC reserve games there a decade or so back. It was always windy. It was always pissing down. It was always freezing. Not this time though; the rain had stopped and there wasn’t any hint of a breeze by mid afternoon. Still bloody cold though, as we tramped down from the Metro with a couple of dozen others.

There was no discernible demographic to this tribe; solitary middle aged blokes, a few dads and lads, the odd family or knot of young fellas, but not much evidence of Thunder merchandise. If anything, I saw a few Falcons fleeces and umbrellas; perhaps union regulars had been granted freebies in the way we had been. That would go some way towards explaining the healthy crowd of 1,522, which was the highest in third-level League 1 and higher than both games in the step above Championship (including Workington’s 40-0 trouncing of Whitehaven in the Cumbrian derby), who were all contained in the large West Stand. Impressive though the turnout was I’d wager it would be less than 20% of the attendance for a Falcons game. I’ve no idea what a rugby union away support is like, nor a league one, but I’d estimate Barrow had in excess of 250 there, judging by the 4 coaches that had journeyed over from Cumbria. Would many Conference level football teams attract that level of support? You tell me. Certainly, I was impressed by their passion and relentless support, even in the face of the defeat they suffered.

Thunder, boasting a trio of Samoans, played what seemed to be an attacking and expansive game, triumphing 34-22 over a Barrow side who looked like a load of very big, very hard blokes, but didn’t seek to move the ball with the verve or panache of the home team.  However, the crowd appreciated the efforts of both teams, to the extent that victors and vanquished came across to applaud the two sets of fans, who didn’t depart at the final whistle, but adjoined to the bar in the back of the stand for post-match pints which, same as pre match and during match pints, is a real rugby league tradition, as is friendship and camaraderie. I would wonder if this is the case between the two Hull sides, or Leeds and Bradford or St Helens and Wigan, but it is seemingly de rigeur in the third tier and it was touching to see. It reminded me of the sense of unity and commonality so prevalent in the Northern League.

Sadly, being desperately hungover and on the wagon respectively, we didn’t partake, opting instead to make a slow journey home by public transport, allowing me to muse on the experience as junior fell into a reverie. Did I enjoy it? Surprisingly, yes and I would certainly contemplate going again, as I seemed to understand all the rules. I have to say that the knock on rule in rugby league is a rather strict one.

There were some bizarre touches; the Frank Sinatra tribute act on in the bar before the game and at half time, the mother and daughter in head to toe Thunder merchandise each accompanied by a snoozing lap dog, the pair of blokes in Stone Island clobber moodily supping two pint containers in the back of the stand muttering to each other about Barrow, who they conceded had brought “a canny squad.” Each to their own…

Saturday 4 April will be the 40^th consecutive Saturday I’ll have seen a game of football, with the potential of seeing games until 12 June, which will make it 50 straight weeks from 5 July last year and Benfield 2 Annan Athletic 2; if I still need more exposure to team sports other than Northumberland CC, I’ll come back to see Thunder, who I hope take the division by storm.