My word, that was fun!

The gig, by the way, was great. Highlights from A Certain Trigger and Our Earthly Pleasures and maybe 10 tracks from the new album. It's always a bit hard to really get into songs you've never heard before, but there was a lot of promise. Paul Smith, so polite and eloquent face to face, just drips confidence on stage.

Muscular, jerky Jagger-dancing and appreciative banter kept the audience rapt.
One new song, he explained to kids who would have no idea of it's existence, was about the revolving dancefloor of the Tuxedo Princess/Tuxedo Royale, a relic of Tyneside nightlife's dubious recent past. This is the great thing about this band- no other band in recent memory (okay, okay, Lindisfarne fans) has put out an album with such regional reference points, while managing to appeal to a broad audience. "Nothing works round here/where cranes collect the sky" he sings on 'I Want You to Stay'. Such a statement can be applied to any modern city, but locals know he's referring to Wallsend's shrinking shipyards. On the next album,'By The Monument' describes waiting for a date or potential loved-one at the standard meeting point in Newcastle. This, I think is one of the reasons for their loyal, steadily-growing local fanbase.

They can also be commended for their efforts in showcasing the North East (Newcastle in particular, I suppose) to a wider audience.

However, the aftermath of this gig has left me a bit disappointed. NME comes into print the next day, and they somehow managed to have a small article on the gig; here's the headline:
'2500 fans turned away from free Maximo Park gig'.

As mentioned in the last post, some former workmates came through for us and we were the last people to get into the gig. There was a line behind us, but 2500? 200, absolute maximum. Still, that's the NME for you. And the information came from the NME in LA. Oooo-kay. I guess all publicity is good publicity.

What's more disappointing are comments on the band's website from fans. One girl sarcastically wrote 'Thanks lads. Queued for 5 hours only to get to the front and be told the we couldn't get in' Bearing in mind, I got there at 5 and got in at 8.30. And unlike most of the kids there, who -unlike me- probably have tickets for their shows in Newcastle in May, I went to the back of the line and waited.

A n y w a y
this is a great band with unique songwriting talent who actually seem to appreciate their fans. Ungrateful, grabbing adolescents that they are.

Keeping up the gig theme, 2 nights later Mrs Trousers and I went to see tabloid abortion Peter Doherty, as a Valentine's present (mwah, darling). I know, opinions are polarised on this guy. I don't buy the rag-papers that seemed so keen on bringing on his destruction a couple of years ago, when he was dating Kate Moss. His music, his personality, even the tragedy of his slide into heroin and crack addiction were lost in the mire of 'shocking' arrests, bizarre activities and model-bagging.

People who profess to know nothing and care less about music were bound to see him as a talentless, waste-of-space junkie. But even people who thought they had their finger on the pulse of music were quick to lambast him and deride his abilities. These people, of course, own albums by Razorlight and the Kaiser Chiefs.

The Libertines were produced by Mick Jones, and Jones went with Doherty when that ill-suited ship faltered and sank. Jones brought the hands-off production approach of The Clash to The Libs, and also to Babyshambles' first effort.

Here lies the difference between Doherty and Johnny Borrell or fat Ricky...
Doherty can go into a studio with a song, do a few takes on a four or eight-track and they'll pick the best one, mistakes and all. 'Up the Morning' on Babyshamble's debut album is a perfect example. It takes a while to start up, scratches and clicks throughout, and ends with Doherty stumbling off, presumably to the gin-cabinet or his crack-pipe, and falling over.

Like it or not, this a musicianship and quality which Razorlight and their like will never, ever possess. If proof is required, track down the BBC documentary about the Sgt Pepper's tribute album which came out to coincide with that album's 40th anniversary. The premise was to record the songs in the spirit of the times, using only 4-track recording equipment and techniques available to the original artists.

Unsurprisingly, both Razorlight and the Kaisers struggled, pleading with the crew to stop filming. Neither band knew how to actually play the song they had shown up to record. These are bands who have an album put together for them by a producer, then have to learn how to play their parts. they could learn a lot from someone like Doherty. In fact, they could learn a lot from Busted.

Zing!

I was talking about a gig, wasn't I? Right. Part of me had high hopes for this gig, and the rest of me was dreading it. I've had tickets for Babyshambles before, and Doherty was arrested en route. There was a mini-riot apparently. Interviews in the press were instilling me with hope, as he seemed, not clean, but almost clean. Blur's producer Stephen Street had been drafted in, who in turn had brought in guitar legend Graham Coxon to add an air of professionalism to proceedings.

The gig was vastly different to the Maximo experience. Whereas Maximo's crowd comprised of sensitive, hoodie-wearing nice people who spend too much in charity shops, Doherty has the kind of car-crash appeal which brings in the Sun-reading, wannabe hooligan crowd. Most of the guys were douched up and there were rafts of girls dressed like strippers on the traditional Monday shopping-trip. The queue for the toilet was about as big as the queue for the bar, if you catch my drift. The air was thick with aggression.

Typically, he was a half-hour late coming on stage, enough time for a nasty fight to break out near the front. He came out alone first, looking dapper in a suit and his trademark daft hat, and gave the crowd a little of what they wanted with 'I No Longer Hear The Music' from the Libertines' funereal second album. This song brilliantly sums up Doherty's predicament- he fears his persona will forever overshadow his music. He played it beautifully, no slurring or stumbling, and to rapturous applause introduced Graham Coxon and the rest of the band to the stage for his new single. A couple of numbers later he brought out a strings-section for some new numbers. Giving the rest of the band a break, he performed the Libs' first single 'What a Waster' and 2007's surprise hit 'For Lovers' - the rights to which he sold in a pub, no doubt for the price of an evening's entertainment.

Queueing for a drink, I asked the two older guys in front of me what they thought so far. They weren't impressed. They seemed even a little disappointed. Yes, he looked and sounded great, but that wasn't waht they were used to. They didn't like his new stuff- it sounded 'too whirry', like the Last Shadow Puppets. An All-Saints attired Boro-guy behind me was similarly disappointed. I had to admit, 'The Sweet By-and-By' sounds a bit like Chas and Dave doing the theme to Steptoe and Son. But this guy was saying that was a bad thing...

Doherty is doubtless still struggling with his demons. Stooping to pick up everything the crowd would throw on stage, and obviously drinking to take the edge off his craving, he seemed to be flagging by the end of the show. But a show it was, and strange as it may sound, I was proud of the guy.

Well I've been waiting here for hours/ it's getting cold, position closed

I can take or leave most bands these days. I’d imagine it’s pretty exhausting keeping up with what’s new. Plus, of course, it gets difficult to look up to someone ten years younger than yourself, or a band a few years older than myself, trying desperately to hide their age with comfortable hats and trotting out trite soundbites.

But, I decided to dust off my gig-shoes for one of my ongoing obsessions earlier this week- Maximo Park.

My job tends to put me in the same cities (even the same venues) as bands I’d love to see, but usually we’re a few weeks apart. Mrs Trousers actually has 6 tickets for the Newcastle shows in May, but I’ll be in America.

Last week Maximo Park put details on their website of a free gig showcasing new material with less than a week’s notice. The first 250 entrants could also buy a one-off 7” single, all profits of which would go to No Surrender, a cancer charity. I was pretty excited, but given the first-come first served basis and the fact that it was being held at the College, I didn’t hold out much hope, especially as Mrs Trousers is now 37 weeks pregnant.

The day rolled around and I knew that I had to give it a try, even though there were comments on the site from schoolkids saying they’d be outside from 1.30 to collect a wristband at 7pm. I certainly wasn’t going to subject my lady to that, but we both knew I'd spend the evening (indeed, the whole week) twisting and turning, wondering 'what if?....'

I wrapped up a bit and ventured out. Arriving at 5, there was already a healthy queue, but I figured it was about 150 people. I engaged in a bit of blokey chat with Mark, probably the only other guy there who could muster a beard. A few minutes later , no-one had joined the line behind us, but at least 10 kids had slinked in in front of us, joining friends or simply scanning up and down the line until they saw a face they vaguely recognised. Freakin kids. Finally a couple joined the line behind me, having driven up from Pontefract, 2 hours away.

Time edged on, the sun went down, the wind picked up and the line in front of us was swelling. The line behind, not so much. The queue tightened a bit and we had to move away from the protective wall , exposing us to a bitter wind. Mark went to speak to the security guys and we learned the theatre had a capacity of 300. This wasn’t looking so good anymore.

Still, by 6 I was resolved to stay until the bitter end. Mark’s sister joined us and Mrs Trousers decided she would join me at 7 – the assumption being I would blag her a wristband or she could join us at the entrance. So began the slowest hour of our lives. My new-found friends and I were doing our best to stay upbeat and positive, but the cold was sapping our resolve somewhat. Officials worked their way up the queue, offering band T-shirts for a donation to the charity. I got the smallest one available, for Trousers Jr. Sadly, most of the kids seemed to see this as a freebie and took what they could, giving nothing.

Mrs Trousers joined us just after 7, but we hadn’t really moved. The queue had widened, but no-one was being let inside. Another fact-finding visit to the security guys revealed plans to let the queue in 25 at a time.

7.30 and no-one had been let inside… Finally, groups were trickling inside and we began to slowly move down the line towards the barriers. Counting the number of groups going in, it was a struggle to stay hopeful.

Nearing the front I got a look at the security crew and realised they all used to work with me back when I was a bar manager. I called Awful Alan over and introduced Mrs Trousers. He told us we should just make it inside. Our little group felt their wait had been rewarded.

Finally we were at the front of the queue;the next step was to the holding pen to be issued wristbands before being allowed inside. Alan released the catch and let us through, the Pontefract couple first, then Mrs Trousers and I, and Mark, but stopped his sister. We all stopped and explained we were together and Alan let her through. There were no wristbands left, but they let us in anyway.

We got a 7” and got the T-shirt signed for baby Trousers, but we were a bit too cold for witty banter with the band. For their part I’m sure they were sick to death of signing stuff and smiling politely as people told them how cold it was outside.

Say what you like about bouncers, but if they know you and you keep them sweet, they'll work wonders for you...



Stay tuned for a gig review, and the aftermath...