The Cult + Bad Sav – 19/11/16 – Town Hall, Dunedin

 

The Cult? In Dunedin?  The actual Cult? Messrs Astbury and Duffy? In the Town Hall you say? Jebus. This town sucks for musical entertainment most of the time, but occasionally, just occasionally, the planets align and a promoter somewhere manages to convince a half decent act to venture down south. This year alone we’ve had The Buzzcocks and Black Sabbath, now The Cult.

Now then. The Cult. I love The Cult. I fucking love The Cult. Well, to be precise, I love the 4 or 5 albums they recorded in the 80s. I couldn’t even tell you the name of anything released since then. However, I get the suspicion that they know what the people want, the likelihood of them playing the classics is fairly high. Sure they’ll play a couple of new ones but I’m hanging out for half a dozen from the 80s and I’ll be happy with that.

There’s also the novelty factor of going to a gig in Dunedin Town Hall.  It’s a fine old building, which I’ve only seen the inside of once in 11 years of living here. That was a classical gig me and Mrs ByTor got free tickets for. I had no idea they were open to hosting rock gigs.

I’ve just re-read my review of them in 1989, (almost twenty fucking seven years ago to the day!) and it wasn’t too complimentary. My main gripe (apart from Wembley Arena’s fuckawful sound) was Ian Astbury’s voice. If I remember correctly he just seems to sing half the words, struggling to hold a note for longer than half a breath. Anyway, it’s not reason enough for me to turn my nose up at it.

Apparently there is a support act, Bad Sav, a local bunch who I’ve seen a few times before. I was too busy in the bar while they were on though. Pretty big gig for them though, there seemed to be quite a few people watching them.

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The Cult, Dunedin Town Hall 2016

The Town Hall is maybe 3/4 full, which is really surprising given the fact that it appears to have been a word-of-mouth gig, such was the scarcity of promotion. I didn’t see or hear a single ad, apart from Facebook. Is that all that you need these days though? The house lights duly go down at about 9:30, and on they saunter to a very enthusiastic reception. Wild Flower is just about the best opening track for any album, and it’s an absolute pearler to open a gig. The opening riff, as brazenly stolen from AC/DC as anything Airbourne have ever done, is just legendary. It’s one of those songs that just can’t be played too loud. The sound in the Town Hall is really good, and it’s REALLY loud. My earplugs are only just up to the task of protecting my ‘drums. Not sure if the band brought this PA with them, I’m pretty sure Strawberry Sound doesn’t have anything this big. Crystal clear too.

Astbury is, as I remember from last time, struggling to stretch the notes out to their intended length, and in places this grates slightly, but he’s bang in tune and there are a couple of thousand black-clad fans singing along to help him anyway. Duffy though, is a guitar hero of the first order. He is looking pretty good for his 50 odd years, and man can he play that fucking thing. He is the consummate pro, stuffed full of clichés, but so fucking cool with it. I would even go so far as to say he’s up there with Angus Young. The rockstar pose on the cover of Sonic Temple is not affected, it’s just the way he plays the guitar. I expect he strikes that pose when he’s washing the car or mowing the lawn, he’s that fucking rock and roll. There are some other musicians on the stage, no idea about the bassist or rhythm guitar/keyboardist (they do the job), but the drummer is John Tempesta (ex-Exodus and Testament, amongst many others) so I’ve probably seen him a few times before without realising. He’s more than capable of backing the Astbury & Duffy show, but it really is just that, the other three may as well be session musicians for all the spotlight time they get.

Fucking guitar hero of the highest order
Billy Duffy, axe hero (pic copyright Hadden Gamble 2016)

As I (and probably a couple of thousand others) had hoped, there is a healthy amount of 80s material tonight. They play a few new ones, none of which I’m familiar with, and they offer a good opportunity to sneak to the bar. They’re not bad, they’re just not Electric . So, as well as Wild Flower we get Lil’ Devil, Rain, Phoenix, Horse Nation, Sweet Soul Sister & Firewoman, and then after only 90 very short minutes, the set winds up with the absolutely epic She Sells Sanctuary. We drag them back on stage for one more – there is one classic that they can’t leave without playing, and that’s Love Removal Machine. And that’s all folks. Short but oh so sweet (90 mins isn’t really short, it’s just that Steven Wilson played for three whole hours last month!).

I was expecting my favourite songs tonight to be those from Electric and earlier, but I think I enjoyed Firewoman and Sweet Soul Sister the most. I didn’t particularly like Sonic Temple when it came out, but it’s somewhat grown on me over the last 25 years(!). Duffy was putting much more in the way of bended-knee-facial-contortion guitar solos on Sonic Temple than he ever had on Love, or even Electric, and those two tracks tonight gave him more of an opportunity to do his thang. And he does his thang with absolute note for note precision, faithful to the recorded version, exactly as it was laid down 27 years back. No ten minute improvised shredding behind his head á la Angus Young or Nigel Tufnell while the others go off for a toilet break. One word – legendary.

In case any Kiwis reading this thought Ian Astbury was from California, he’s not. He hails from the north-west of England. If you listen to Dreamtime Live at the Lyceum (recorded in 1984), he was definitely still a Scouser! By contrast, Mr Duffy, who presumably has spent roughly the same time across the Atlantic as him over the last three decades, hasn’t shed his native twang at all. I’ve always wondered if Astbury’s accent shift was just an affectation or if ‘American’ has just unconsciously consumed him since moving to LA. I am told that I have traces of a Kiwi accent these days (after 11 years living in NZ), and that is despite my attempts to resist it…

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Steven Wilson – The Power Station, Auckland – 26/10/16

Fucking guitar hero
Steven Wilson

I don’t think I’ve looked forward to a gig this much since like probably, well probably forever. Maybe Metallica in ’88. But unlikely anything else in the last 25+ years. I’ve been a massive, massive, MASSIVE fan of Steven Wilson and pretty much all his side projects since the beginning of Porcupine Tree. I would say that I listen to Steven Wilson and PT as much as I listen to Rush, as much as I listen to Iron Maiden, as much as I listen to anyone really. There’s just so much out there, his back catalogue is huge, and I’m always discovering new things.

This tour is to promote Hand. Cannot. Erase. – easily the best solo album he’s done (to date). I know it back to front, note for note (although I’m never particularly good with lyrics, aside from the odd chorus), I know he’s surrounded himself with a troop of seriously qualified musicians, and I know how good he himself is on stage, so the chances of this being anything less than a magical experience are slim.

The anticipation for this gig, as I’ve had the ticket for 5 months or so, is darn nearly unbearable. Serendipitously, I’ve managed to get myself invited to MS Ignite in Auckland the same week as the gig, so I a) don’t have to pay for a flight or hotel and b) get to stay in a considerably better hotel than if it were coming out of my wallet. It does however mean I have to spend a large portion of the gig day thinking about SQL Server 2016.

The day’s technical sessions at Ignite are really beginning to drag on as the night of the gig draws near. I decide to go and investigate Galbraith’s Alehouse, opposite the venue, so after a 30 minute route march in the drizzle (does it rain every day in Auckland?)  I’m in a very comfortable boozer surrounded by a lot of black t-shirts and long hair, not to mention English accents. Jeez, this place is even more popular than Emerson’s Brewery in goo old Dunedin. There are prog and metal shirts of every descriptions – Yes, Tull, Tool, Cardiacs. I am SO not in Dunedin any more! I don’t remember seeing a support act mentioned anywhere, and I have a sneaky suspicion that Mr Wilson and his merry band of minstrels will take the stage reasonably early (there is NO way I am missing ANY of this) so I opt to swap the luxury of a nice brew pub for the queue to get in. And it is some queue too, right round the block. Any worries I was harbouring that he wasn’t well known enough to attract a decent crowd dissolved into the Auckland mist as the queue grew and grew behind me. I know I am prone to obsessing about crowd size, and I think this was probably born back in the days when I used to go to football (where crowd size is inextricably linked to your team’s finances and thence success). It’s a weird thing, there are many advantages to a poor turnout – smaller queues, easier to get a good vantage point etc but the atmosphere suffers, and I always feel sorry, if not embarrassed for an artist if the room is half empty. As it so often is in Dunedin! As an aside, the crowd is much younger and less male-heavy than I would have expected, which is really encouraging.

swtI’m always hearing about The Power Station on Radio Hauraki, seems to be a fairly popular venue for visiting bands of small-to-mid size (mid in their home market = small in NZ) but once inside (after a brief moment of panic when my home-printed ticket won’t admit me through the door) I realise what a cracker of a place it is. Probably holds a couple of thousand at the most, with a balcony all the way round the main floor, creating a really closed in, intimate feel. The small stage is pretty much full – they have brought a serious fuckload of kit with them. Massive drum kit, Macs on every surface, two synth stations and several stacks of Marshalls. Not to mention the 15 (fifteen!) assorted guitars and basses racked up stage left and stage right. These guys certainly don’t travel light.

I was indeed correct in my assumption that there would be no support, as the lights dim and the breathy synthy intro to First Regret (the album opener) waft over the PA bang on 8.30. And on they wander. There is some fairly flashy visual stuff (bizarre arty film) projected on the back wall, but all eyes are firmly on the five individuals taking their places. Adam Holzman sits at his keyboards and tinkles out the opening piano riff with metronomic precision. It’s so good, if it were anyone else I’d be suspicious that it was sequenced. This bloke used to play with Miles Davis ffs, so he clearly knows a thing or two.

SW and his merry minstrels
Beggs, Blundell, Wilson, Holzman & Kilmister

When the guitar and bass come in I remember how tight, how utterly polished Steven Wilson and any musician he has on stage with him are. I soon realise this is possibly one of the most professional outfits I’ve ever seen. I could be listening to the CD, it’s that faithfully reproduced, but it’s not like watching Coldplay who are soulless automatons by comparison, these blokes are putting a lot into this. A heck of a lot.

I’m mildly disappointed to discover that the other guitarist is not the legendary Guthrie Govan, whom I was really looking forward to seeing. It turns out to be Dave Kilmister, who used to play for Roger Waters, and before the end of the first song I realise that he’s perfectly well qualified to do this…

On bass is a real legend from my childhood. Nick Beggs. Nick Beggs from Kajagoogoo. Nick

Beggs that had the most ridiculous blond haircut (second only to Flock of Seagulls in the ridiculous 80s hairstyles stakes). He still has the long hair, albeit safely tucked out of harm’s way in two plaits. He must be 10 years older than me, but he looks like he’s in his thirties.

The drummer is also a new face (to me) – Craig Blundell. I was expecting Marco Minneman but as I have no idea what he looks like, I’m none the wiser until Steven introduces them all.

The sound in the Power Station is well, appalling. Fine during the lighter bits, but as soon as the bass or anything on the left hand half of the piano was played then it just became a muddy wash of noise. This wasn’t supposed to happen! I managed to improve things by moving forward ever so slowly, until by the end I was only a couple of bodies from the stage.

They stroll through First Regret and 3 Years Older, then Steven stops for a bit of bants, and explains that the first half of the show will be Hand. Cannot. Erase. in its entirety, and in order. Fucking get in. The title track, possibly my favourite thing he’s done, is sublime, but at only 4 minutes is far too short. It’s all sublime though. I can’t even really pick out a highlight from this hour-and-a-bit half of the show, it’s all so good. If I had to choose one moment it would be the extended keyboard solo in Home Invasion / Regret #9. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an amazing keyboard player in action. Holzman is a jazz pianist by trade, so prog rock must be meat and drink to him, but christ on a bike, he absolutely nails this sucker. It’s like watching Keith Emerson or Rick Wakeman, but without the pomposity. The already very noisy crowd goes extra mental on the conclusion of his solo, and he turns and cheerfully, humbly acknowledges the appreciation. Legend.

The Chapman virtuoso
Nick Beggs

I’ve never (knowingly) seen the Chapman Stick in action, and I have no idea if Nick Beggs is playing it the conventional way, but he seems to be mostly using the hammer on technique and holding it like a sitar. I’m sure it’s a complicated beast to master, what with all them strings and that, but he does make it look exceedingly simple. I would have to say that he is, with the exception of Geddy Lee and Les Claypool, the finest bass player I’ve ever seen, and I’m a matter of feet away from him.

They finish the album and wander off for a breather (leaving poor Adam to play the outro by himself) and I can only wonder at what’s to come. There is such an incredible amount to choose from, and it’s clear that there are no songs which can’t be reproduced on stage (the spoken word Perfect Life being a perfect example) so we could get absolutely anything. I know he still does a couple of PT numbers but I’m not expecting Radioactive Toy (which would seem almost childishly simple compared to the contemporary stuff).

Act II is just as mesmerising as the first half, and really delves into the archives, more heavily leaning towards PT. We get My Book Of Regrets from 4 1/2 and then Thank You, then Lazarus which he touchingly dedicates to David Bowie. Don’t Hate Me is the oldest one, from way back on Stupid Dream and as a finale they throw in Sleep Together from Fear Of a Blank Planet.

The encore starts with a moving tribute to Bowie (clearly one of Wilson’s heroes) – a very poignant Space Oddity that I’ve probably never heard sung better. Then he dives into The Sound Of Muzak from PT’s In Absentia, for which I now have a new admiration. I’ve never noticed how poppy and hooky it is but hearing it live has now pushed it way up the list of SW favourites. The final effort, and it really is a masterpiece, is the eponymous title track from The Raven That Refused To Sing. Now, I’ve not really noticed how epic this song is, always believing Holy Drinker to be the stand out on the album, but The Raven… is simply a progressive rock masterpiece. What a way to end a near enough perfect gig.

Then it really is good night. This has been near enough a THREE HOUR show, what more can you ask of a band? The very fact that they’ve schlepped over from Australia, with ALL that gear, just to play in front of maybe 1500 people is laudable, and shows what enjoyment they all get out of this. They really do appreciate the reception, and hang about on stage drinking in the applause, filming the crowd and pressing the flesh for a good 5-10 minutes before disappearing backstage.

In my last blog post I suggested that I would be disappointed if this gig didn’t make it into my all time top 10 – what was I worrying about? Obviously things might change a little in the cold light of day, but it’s gone straight in at number 3.

Fan. Fucking. Tastic. Thank you Steven.

One very appreciative crowd
The Power Station crowd

On the subject of space rock…

Space rock is one of my most favouritest musical genres. I fuckin’ loves it, even though it’s primarily designed for people that take a lot of psychedelic drugs, and I haven’t done that in a long, long time (like nearly 25 years! Eek!). It seemed like the logical thing to move on to, after I cut my musical teeth on Heavy Metal. The band that made the transition for me was Hawkwind.

I’m a huge Hawkwind fan. Fucking massive. Among the many items I carted halfway round the world when I emigrated to NZ was a crate of vinyl, which contains about 50 Hawkwind LPs. I just couldn’t bear to part with them, even though I could have made a fair bit of wonga as many of them are original 70s releases complete with booklets etc etc. They took their fair share of hippy-bashing when punk burst on the scene, and have remained pretty much universally un-cool for the last 30 years, but now I think the music writers that once pilloried them realise that in their own small way they influenced a hell of a lot. I’ve even heard them described as proto-punk, for fuck sake. I grew up with them basically, since I first heard the legendary Tommy Vance play Rocky Paths (the Live Chronicles version) on the legendary Friday Rock Show, and I haven’t stopped listening to them in almost 30 years. As far as I’m concerned though, they haven’t really made a decent record since the 80s (Xenon Codex being the last studio album I will listen to) and their golden period, for me, is the Robert Calvert era ’76-’79. Live At Brixton from 91 is a corker, but I’m possibly biased because I was there.

Anyway I’m rambling, but what I’m getting at, in a rather roundabout way, is that I’ve just discovered the best thing to happen to space rock since Hawkwind (well, since the Ozric Tentacles anyway). Allow me to introduce you to The Hawklords. Not THE Hawklords, well not really, but sort of a bit similar, like. While Hawkwind have been steadily declining and going through the motions a bit, what apparently started out as little more than a Hawkwind covers band is putting out space rock more Hawkwind-like than anything the actual Hawkwind have done in three decades. The Hawklords lineup nowadays consists of Harvey Bainbridge (an original Hawklord), Ron Tree (a former Hawkwind vocalist) and a guitarist Jerry Richards who I have a vague feeling did a stint in Hawkwind too, and some other names not familiar to me. Adrian Shaw, Nik Turner, Steve Swindells and Alan Davey have all featured in the past apparently, so credentials-wise this band is at least as Hawkwindy as Dave Brock’s lot.

I don’t even remember how I stumbled across them (it would have been Spotify, obvs, but not sure if it was served up to me as a recommendation or I just got a bit lost or what). I’m listening to R:Evolution (2015) as I write this, and to be honest, it could easily pass as the logical next album after 25 Years On. They have taken the best bits of Calvert era Hawkwind and melded it with the rocky, more polished sound from the 80s, with production values that Dave Brock could only dream of. Ron Tree is an excellent Calvert impersonator, indistinguishable from the real thing really. Pretty sure I’ve seen him with Hawkwind a couple of times and come away underwhelmed but here he is majestic. Jerry Richards is an extremely capable string-twanger. Not too much guitar hero, just enough to excite the palate. Way better than (my hero) Dave Brock, better even than the late great Huw Lloyd-Langton. Harvey Bainbridge is just doing what he always used to do, brilliantly – his keyboard sounds are just legendary.

hawklords20r-evolution20R:Evolution is mostly reminiscent of PXR5 and Quark… but there is a nod to much earlier stuff too (One Day is basically Hurry On Sundown rebooted). Evolver has been lifted from Doremi or …Mountain Grill and there isn’t anything on here at all that sounds ‘original’, whatever the fuck that means anyway. I expect Dave Brock went fucking apeshit when he heard these for the first time, they’re that heavily influenced by his stuff. Pretty much every riff, every bassline, every melody can be traced to an earlier album somewhere but who cares? This isn’t self-indulgent and jammy like its forebears though, the songs are all very well crafted and well, songy, with choruses and bridges and all that shit you don’t often get in space rock. It’s all very psychedelic indeed though, crammed with lots of samples and trippy weird shit and permeated throughout by HB’s lush floaty breathy synth chords.

Censored (2014) was pretty much the same vein but the first two albums (2012’s We Are One and 2013’s Dream) are a little more basic, as you would expect. They still have the same influences, mostly the punky side of the Calvert era but with definite nods to the early 70s. I saw a post (Facebook? Twitter?) announcing the next album for later this year, featuring guest vocals from Kim McAuliffe (Girlschool), so I’m definitely looking forward to that.

In summary then, Hawklords is now basically a Hawkwind for the 21st Century, polished and produced properly. It’s like someone discovered 4 lost albums from the late 1970s. What a fantastic discovery. Thanks Spotify!

** Straw poll of other people in the room (namely, Mrs ByTor) – “Is this Hawkwind? I Didn’t know you still listened to them. It’s not actually that bad.” As positive a review as she’s ever likely to give of a space rock band, I might even be able to get away with playing it again some time.

Black Sabbath + Rival Sons – Forsyth Barr Stadium, Dunedin – 30/04/16

So I’m finally going to the Forsyth Barr stadium to see a concert. The giant fucking rugby stadium that we didn’t need. The white elephant that Dunedin ratepayers didn’t even want. I whinged and moaned about it at the start, but I’m finally coming to terms with the fact that it’s here to stay, so I might as well use the fucking thing.

I’ve been there half a dozen times before (Rugby World Cup, Football World Cup qualifying tournaments, Wellington Phoenix, Beer Festivals etc) and it’s all very nice and everything, but I’ve never been there for a gig. I’ve never been that tempted by the music on offer to stump up the $150+ necessary to see it. What have we had over the 4 years since it was opened? Elton John, Aerosmith, Fleetwood Mac, Paul Simon & Tom Jones. Not my all time list of must-see artists (although I have actually seen all of them except Fleetwood Mac before, but that’s irrelevant). But I’ll go and see Sabbath. Even at $170 I’ll go and see Sabbath. Even though the sound at Forsyth Barr is legendarily poor (to the point where it’s been said that it sounds better from Logan Park than in the actual stadium). Even though I have gone on record as saying that these days I’m only going to fork out big bucks on bands I’ve never seen before. Even though this is going to be probably the most expensive gig I’ve ever seen. Yup, I’m going.

I bought the ticket 4 months ago. It’s been pinned up on my noticeboard, glaring at me and shouting “$170? You could have bought your kids a couple of pair of shoes each for that” or “$170? That’s 17 high-end craft beers from New World” or “$170? That’s four times as much as the total face value of tickets from all previous times you’ve seen Black Sabbath”. I think only Madonna in 2004 (£100 !?) was actually more expensive than this, but that was back in the days of being unshackled by mortgage and children.

So, money concerns aside, the day is finally here, and tonight I’M GOING TO SEE BLACK SABBATH!! The greatest metal band of all time, if the ads for the concert are to be believed. They’ve certainly been a fairly big part of my life since 1987 or so. Legends, in fact. It’s just Ozzy, Geezer and Tony these days, but to be honest I think the position of drummer  (and no disrespect to Bill Ward here) is the easiest to swap out for some random session dude. It’s not like replacing Neil Peart in Rush, for instance. It’s going to be good, for sure.

The atmosphere in and around Forsyth Barr is electric. Hordes of black clad fans of all ages are milling around, and the crowd is not nearly as male dominated as you would expect of a metal gig. Like at the Buzzcocks a few weeks ago, there are a lot of strange hairy characters here that you just don’t see round and about town normally. Where do they hide? Quite an encouraging number of younger people too. I mean, Sabbath’s best records were made before I was born. Slightly disappointed by the turnout though – only half the stadium is being used – there is temporary seating on the halfway line and quite a lot of space at the back of the pitch but most of the seats look occupied. At a rough guess maybe 8-10 thousand? C’mon Dunedin, you should do better than this

rivalsonsRival Sons is the support act, not someone I’d ever heard of, but a prior bit of research on Spotify revealed them to be a pretty decent blues rock outfit from Long Beach, with only a couple of albums under their belts. They are very good in person, sort of dirty Black Crowes end of the blues rock spectrum, with more than a passing resemblance to Zeppelin. The most striking thing about them (and unfortunately my Nokia Lumia’s camera can’t do justice to this) is the beard on the tambourine/keyboard/pedal steel player. It’s a chinmuff of ZZ Top proportions, this guy could easily pass off as an Amish. I even recognise two of their songs from my brief Spotify session earlier in the day. Or maybe I recognise them from Houses Of The Holy. Difficult to tell…

sabAnd so to business. After a quick trip to the bar it’s time for the main course. Lights down, volume up and here we go. The crowd noise is fantastic as the video screen shows some flashy animation of dragons and fire and other metal clichés. The (almost) septuagenarian metal gods wander out of the shadows to the sound of a lone church bell, and this means only one thing. Black Sabbath. They’re opening with their eponymous signature tune, the heaviest, most evil, sinister riff ever written. It’s so simple, just three notes, not even chords, and it’s basically the riff that gave birth to heavy metal, nearly half a century ago. It’s probably my favourite Sabbath tune and they smash it out of the park. My fears of poor acoustics are entirely unfounded, and I don’t even need my ear plugs – it’s just about as good a sound as you could wish for in a stadium. A procession of the greatest of greatest hits then streams forth – Snowblind, After Forever, Faeries Wear Boots, Behind The Wall Of Sleep, War Pigs, Children of the Grave, Iron Man etc etc. I’m sure they’re very proud of their latest album but they don’t go anywhere near it. In fact, I don’t think they venture much later than about 1972, which is fine by me. More than fine. I know every note of every song they play and it is all FUCKING BRILLIANT. All of it. Even Tommy Clufeto’s monster drum solo (he’s way way more of a showman than Bill Ward). I’m not normally one for big solos but I am exhausted just watching this guy, the sheer effort he is putting into hitting ALL of his drums as LOUD and as FAST as he can deserves applause, which it duly gets, and lots.ozzy

And then the highpoint of the evening, as Ozzy yells at us ‘WE LOVE YOU AUCKLAND!’ If it were anyone else, I think I’d be more than a little offended, but as it’s Ozzy, and it’s such a, well, Ozzy thing to do, we’ll let it pass with a wry smile. What the fuck must he have been like at the height of his excesses though?

Then it’s good night Dunedin, you’ve been amazing, see you later. And off they trudge so we can play the encore game. You know you’re coming back on. We know you’re coming back on. You know we know you’re coming back on. And they come back on and surprise surprise, it’s for a single encore, Paranoid. It’s a great song, and a great way to round off an all too short night.

theendI wonder if it really is the end? It’s certainly not their first farewell tour, and if the bank balances run dry again, I wouldn’t bet against seeing them coming out of retirement. Sad to see them go, but it’s probably for the best. Either way, they have done immense things in music. They almost single handedly invented an entire genre of music for fuck’s sake, you can’t get more immense than that.

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Buzzcocks – Otago University – 17/03/16

When I found out the Buzzcocks were coming to play in Dunedin, at ReFuel no less, I quite rightly did a double take. OK so they’re not the biggest band in the world, they’re not my favourite punk band either, but they’re still worth a look. And they have chosen Dunedin as one of just four NZ dates on their 40th Anniversary tour. Epic!

I last saw them at Reading Festival in 1990. That’s over a quarter of a century ago. I remember thinking back then that they were pretty old, sandwiched between the young indie bands of the time. What are they going to be like now? I know nothing whatsoever of their post-1980 output, save for one track ‘Reconcilliation’ from about 10 years ago which appeared on one of the JMFH compilations that were responsible for introducing me to so much good new indie stuff. But, as this is a 40th Anniversary Tour, we’re all guessing that they’re going to be playing the hits, the whole hits and nothing but the hits.

I did a little bit of revision beforehand, exploring 2006’s Flat Pack Philosophy and 2014’s The Way. Not too bad, as it happens. Typical Buzzcocks formula, but the added bonus of decent production values, way better than the thin sound of the ‘classic’ era recordings. Anyway, I doubt they’re going to do much of it anyway. We turn up a little late, thanks to couple of pubs along the way, and the queue to get into ReFuel is ALL students, all dressed in dayglo green (St Patrick’s Day, innit). I have a moment of minor panic then I see the real queue – to the Students Union building next door. Phew, it consists almost entirely of what I would term ‘appropriately’ dressed and ‘sympathetically’ aged people. I am not going to be old enough to be all their dads, thank fuck. There are a lot of black leather jackets, a lot of tattoos, a few mohicans even – and barely a soul under the age of 30. I’ve never been inside this building, but it’s quite a bit larger than ReFuel – I’m guessing they outsold that and the Uni took the decision to move it upstairs. Apparently we’re only in the foyer of the building, the actual hall is much bigger but I estimate there are 300 or 400 people in there, enough to create a good atmosphere and make it look respectable while allowing enough room to get near the stage and (more importantly) the bar.

There was a support act, some local lads by all accounts, but they’re long gone by the time we get in, and the main act’s roadies are just putting the last few bits in place. Just have time to grab a few drinks and head to the back of the sound desk (best sound in the house, obv). At about 10pm two old blokes and two slightly younger blokes wander on stage and we’re all systems go. I haven’t seen recent pictures of the band but bloody hell, Pete Shelley has gotten old! He’s sporting a bushy grey beard now, and a considerable gut and looks a lot older than his (reported) 60 years. Steve Diggle has fared a little better, mainly because he’s not overhanging his waistband by so much. I have no idea who the bassist and drummer are. Still, when I look at these guys next to say, Iron Maiden, who are all older and look much younger, it makes me wonder which category I’ll fall into when I’m in my 7th decade…

Orgasm Addicts
Shelley, Diggle & Co

I needn’t have worried about ‘new’ material. I don’t think they played anything off the two recentish albums – it was more or less a greatest hits tour. They know what people want. Their Wikipedia entry talks about their last few tours in the UK being support act to bands I’ve not heard of, so clearly their stock at home isn’t what it was. I’ve omitted to bring my earplugs so I’m listening to rock music as God intended it for the first time in several years – it’s an excellent sound, not as muddy or earsplittingly loud mix as is usual for the Uni. Shelley and Diggle have been doing this a long time, and although I wouldn’t call it ‘tight’, it’s absolutely perfect. Two buzzsaw guitars and Shelley’s voice and Diggle’s backing vocals (which really consist of nothing more than ‘oh-oooh-oh’) and nothing longer than 3 and a half minutes and this is punk. Forget all the ‘punk’ around now, this is real punk. Green Day, Blink 182, Offspring et al can undoubtedly play their guitars much faster and louder, and could probably beat the Buzzcocks in a drinking competition or arm wrestle, but they’ll never be more than revivalists. Talking of being able to play the guitar, Shelley’s solos are still er, basic, to put it in the kindest terms possible. That’s not the point though, is it? If he were able to trip up and down the fretboard like Yngwie Malmsteen it wouldn’t be punk any more, it’s as though being ham-fisted is a requirement for this particular brand of music. For this particular brand of music as practised by them that started it off, at least.

Buzzcocks Dunedin
Orgasm Addicts

They rattle through Fast Cars, Autonomy, I Don’t Mind, Get On Our Own, Love You More, Nothing Left, Harmony In My Head amongst many others, in a frantic 60 minute set. Not a lot of bants with the crowd, save for a ‘hello Dunedin’ and a ‘thank you very much, good night’ but no down time either. It’s relentless, straight from one song to the next and all over far too quickly.

The encore was solid gold – What Do I Get? Orgasm Addict and Ever Fallen In Love and to be honest I would have happily paid $65 just to see that 10 minute set. Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. Black Sabbath next month are going to have to go some to beat this, especially given that the ticket was nearly 3x as expensive…

Buzzcocks Dunedin Ticket