It’s a miserable Sunday night in November, and I’m regretting asking for this show as I walk up to the venue. I’ve got a raging hangover after a night helping a dear friend going through a messy separation drown their sorrows, Wales has just been thoroughly trounced by Australia in the rugby internationals and my slippers, the log fire and a quiet night in with the dog are all very appealing right now, especially as I’m driving thanks to the joys of Sunday train schedules, so there isn’t even the prospect of a pint to take the edge of my throbbing bonce.
I’m still grumpy when Continental Lovers (6) hit the stage. This 80’s Sleaze-rich four-piece hail from my hometown of Nottingham and have been building up a buzz for a couple of years with an EP and a self-titled album released earlier this year to their name to date, but this is my first exposure to them.
I’m still grumpy when Continental Lovers (6) hit the stage. This 80’s Sleaze-rich four-piece hail from my hometown of Nottingham and have been building up a buzz for a couple of years with an EP and a self-titled album released earlier this year to their name to date, but this is my first exposure to them.
The material is the sort of stuff I used to love in the early 80’s, but this venue is an acoustic concrete echo box when it’s empty and these guys have pulled the graveyard shift on a 3-act line up on a school night and the sound mix is really not helping them. Were it a tiny flea-pit like Fuel, this would not have mattered, but this place is a barn and hardly anyone is through the door yet. This clearly drags them down a bit, as the opening songs feel a bit less energetic than this style of music demands, but frontman Joe Maddox gets more chipper mid-way through the set, the band starts to buzz and run with it and by the end the applause is genuine.
I’m glad they are here at all, because for these sorts of shows it’s a slot more often given to a local act who might pull in early doors drinkers who know them, and winning over a crowd who are still queueing to get in or finishing their pints at the Rock Bar across the street is hard work. But sometimes you have to play like it was Wembley Stadium, even if it’s an empty one. That said you have to make some allowances for the relative newness of the band and they won it back by the end.
By comparison, Willie Dowling (8) has been around the block a fair few times. I haven’t seen him perform since the criminally underrated Honeycrack fizzled out in the late 90’s, but his musical history is very closely interwoven with that of the headliners, being a part of that particular musical melting that spawned both the Quireboys and the Wildhearts, and the various members of all three intermingled somewhat. What we got tonight was absolutely at an acute stylistic angle away from what might have been expected, however.
The set tonight is mostly comprised from his current solo offering The Simpleton, and very early on I realise that this is something that I need to give a proper listening to. Dowling is one of those people who can pick up and play pretty much any musical instrument, has a great voice and range to boot, but his talents as a songwriter are given full reign here. This stripped back piano-centric record was a product of lockdown, and live we get only Dowling plus bassist Andy Lewis (with drums coming from a click track).
I’m glad they are here at all, because for these sorts of shows it’s a slot more often given to a local act who might pull in early doors drinkers who know them, and winning over a crowd who are still queueing to get in or finishing their pints at the Rock Bar across the street is hard work. But sometimes you have to play like it was Wembley Stadium, even if it’s an empty one. That said you have to make some allowances for the relative newness of the band and they won it back by the end.
By comparison, Willie Dowling (8) has been around the block a fair few times. I haven’t seen him perform since the criminally underrated Honeycrack fizzled out in the late 90’s, but his musical history is very closely interwoven with that of the headliners, being a part of that particular musical melting that spawned both the Quireboys and the Wildhearts, and the various members of all three intermingled somewhat. What we got tonight was absolutely at an acute stylistic angle away from what might have been expected, however.
The set tonight is mostly comprised from his current solo offering The Simpleton, and very early on I realise that this is something that I need to give a proper listening to. Dowling is one of those people who can pick up and play pretty much any musical instrument, has a great voice and range to boot, but his talents as a songwriter are given full reign here. This stripped back piano-centric record was a product of lockdown, and live we get only Dowling plus bassist Andy Lewis (with drums coming from a click track).
The focus is Dowling’s vocals and piano playing in the same way that an audience goes to see someone like, say Elton John, and probably misses the fact that there might be other musicians on stage (sorry Andy). Actually, his black and white checked suit could have come from Liberace’s dressing up box too, and it’s a good job the venue is in a pedestrianised area, because a zebra crossing might prove fatal on a night like tonight.
The other skill Dowling has in abundance is that of the standup comic. The crowd may still be filling up, but his sense of humour instantly disarms an audience slightly bemused at what might be going on stage. It brings them onside, creates intimacy and also means he can both underline and defuse any sensitivities that his more politically lyrics might inflame. What these gents do deliver though is a sterling and unexpected show that had me smiling throughout and kicked the remainder of my doldrums away.
I’m not sure if we can technically call this band The Quireboys (10) but they are bloody fantastic tonight regardless… Neither do I care about the details of the acrimonious split that briefly saw two incarnations fighting over the same audience, as the reality is the one that has Spike in it is the only one worthy of the name. With all that resolved now, Team Spike won out and put out a rather brilliant new album last month, which pulled back many original members of the band into the fold.
I’ve been rather blown away by their recent Wardour Street release, because it quite frankly is the best thing they’ve done in decades. A Bit Of What You Fancy is always going to be the hit of their career in terms of sales (due to the sad reality that no-one buys records anymore), but the sound was always a little too polished and commercial compared to what you got live, or the rough and ready sound of the debut single Mayfair in 1988. This new opus fuses the catchiness of the Fancy era songs, with that looser Mayfair groove, and is an absolute belter of a record. Live though the material on it kicks some serious botty, which is just as well since over a third of this quite lengthy set comes from it.
The only other original member joining Spike on stage is Nigel Mogg, with Willie Dowling pulling a double shift on the piano covering for Chris Johnstone, Thunder’s Harry James for Rudy Richman on drums and Luke Morley standing in for the late Guy Bailey. The sad reality is the reunification of the Spike / Bayley writing team is probably the reason why Wardour Street is such a solid street record, but this gig is not a wake, it’s a celebration of his life. Although Spike does generate the sense that he may have had a tipple or two when his road manager’s gaze was diverted…
When these boys hit the boards, the place erupts, and although this barn of a venue still has plenty of space, everyone packs down to the front and the atmosphere of the sweaty clubs these guys all cut their teeth in takes hold immediately. Spike is grinning like a kid from the opening bars of Jeeze Louise, and from then on, so are we as he makes eye contact with pretty much everyone and creates the atmosphere that this is a private party to which we are all guests.
The other skill Dowling has in abundance is that of the standup comic. The crowd may still be filling up, but his sense of humour instantly disarms an audience slightly bemused at what might be going on stage. It brings them onside, creates intimacy and also means he can both underline and defuse any sensitivities that his more politically lyrics might inflame. What these gents do deliver though is a sterling and unexpected show that had me smiling throughout and kicked the remainder of my doldrums away.
I’m not sure if we can technically call this band The Quireboys (10) but they are bloody fantastic tonight regardless… Neither do I care about the details of the acrimonious split that briefly saw two incarnations fighting over the same audience, as the reality is the one that has Spike in it is the only one worthy of the name. With all that resolved now, Team Spike won out and put out a rather brilliant new album last month, which pulled back many original members of the band into the fold.
I’ve been rather blown away by their recent Wardour Street release, because it quite frankly is the best thing they’ve done in decades. A Bit Of What You Fancy is always going to be the hit of their career in terms of sales (due to the sad reality that no-one buys records anymore), but the sound was always a little too polished and commercial compared to what you got live, or the rough and ready sound of the debut single Mayfair in 1988. This new opus fuses the catchiness of the Fancy era songs, with that looser Mayfair groove, and is an absolute belter of a record. Live though the material on it kicks some serious botty, which is just as well since over a third of this quite lengthy set comes from it.
The only other original member joining Spike on stage is Nigel Mogg, with Willie Dowling pulling a double shift on the piano covering for Chris Johnstone, Thunder’s Harry James for Rudy Richman on drums and Luke Morley standing in for the late Guy Bailey. The sad reality is the reunification of the Spike / Bayley writing team is probably the reason why Wardour Street is such a solid street record, but this gig is not a wake, it’s a celebration of his life. Although Spike does generate the sense that he may have had a tipple or two when his road manager’s gaze was diverted…
When these boys hit the boards, the place erupts, and although this barn of a venue still has plenty of space, everyone packs down to the front and the atmosphere of the sweaty clubs these guys all cut their teeth in takes hold immediately. Spike is grinning like a kid from the opening bars of Jeeze Louise, and from then on, so are we as he makes eye contact with pretty much everyone and creates the atmosphere that this is a private party to which we are all guests.
As well as giving Wardour Street a thoroughly good airing, the remainder of the set completely disregards anything from their post-EMI 1990’s era and sends the very clear message that the splitting faction are welcome to the material. The audience are exceedingly happy with that decision. New beasts Like It Or Not or Raining Whiskey are set to become as staple a part of their set as Whippin’ Boy, 7 O’Clock or Hey You. I lost count, but the set list ran to well over fifteen songs, and every minute was an absolute joy, and I really hope that this incarnation of the band continues. My head is still throbbing, but in the best possible way. Welcome back Quireboys…
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