So it's my turn to be 'on the blog' again. I've been feeling a bit irritable and tearful the last few days and have had a craving for chocolate, so I guess that must be why. And so to the continuing adventures of four blokes and a posh bird from Farleigh Wallop…
I'm first to arrive at The Rising Sun Arts Centre. It's a quaint little place – kind of hippyish and appealingly scruffy. Barry Untidy (possibly not his real name – Big Untidy Night Out organizer) and the sound man are there already, getting things ready. Cliff Richard is playing in the bar. Not personally, you understand – if he had been I would have politely asked him to cease and desist before violence ensued. Ben arrives shortly afterwards and we start setting up, but there's no sign of the rest of the Brassneck contingent. Eventually, they do appear – the delay apparently caused by Sid's hair. He's just washed it and he can't do a thing with it.
After a soundcheck we retire to the bar. Cliff Richard has morphed into Thom Yorke - there's an interesting pop juxtaposition for you. A couple of friends of mine arrive and say they have to leave before 9.30 to pick up their son. No problem, I say, we're bottom of the bill and are certain to be on well before 8.30. We hear music coming from the other room. We're not on first – Barry and a couple of other untidies are performing a few numbers as a warm up. Don't worry, I say, we're almost certainly going to be on second. Or not, as the case may be...
Occasionally David perform a set of what I would describe as stripped down psych rock. These consist of the main man from what I gather used to be a larger group, plus a bass player who I'm guessing must be his son. The clock is ticking, and my friends are looking mildly agitated. We're ready to take to the stage and its…
Frank Bangay, 'The Bard of Hackney'. Frank treats us to some poetry, with occasional harmonica and a backing singer. I confess I don't know what to make of this, but apparently he's held in high esteem by the Big Untidy clan. So – next up it's…
Brassneck! Hurrah! My friends will get to see at least some of our set after all, although they don't make it to the end. We rip through our tunes in businesslike fashion. It feels and sounds good. I wasn't too sure at the soundcheck, what with the lack of monitors and strange acoustics, but it all came good in the end. The people seem to like what we do, even though to me it seems we're a little at odds with the rest of the bill, and we have a queue of people at the end happy to give up their email addresses in return for our free EP. Result!
Next up is Clive Product with a bunch of great, melodic songs with some nice guitar work. A thoroughly enjoyable set. He seems like a nice guy too. Incidentally, I remember my brother had an LP of his back in the early 80s, and possibly even knew him at the time.
The headliner of the night is the legendary TV Smith, former front man of punk band The Adverts. That was obviously some time ago, but it's reassuring to see that TV has lost none of his punk energy and conviction, although now solo, with a beaten up acoustic guitar as his only weapon. Now I've never seen a protest singer in the flesh before, but Smith is the real deal. In his black and yellow(ish) striped vest and the skinniest possible, bleach-enhanced drainpipe jeans, he looks every inch the angry punk hornet, come to spoil your complacent, bourgeois picnic and give you a painful reminder of the endless struggle of the individual against the establishment. A truly charismatic performer, he spits out his songs with vim and holds the audience rapt for the whole set. At the same time his humour and humility also come across, and he even airs couple of Adverts classics, 'Gary Gilmore's Eyes' and 'One Chord Wonders'. A real treat.
What a night! Very big. Very untidy. Very pleasing indeed. Until next time, pop pickers.
Neil 'Nelly' 'Knuckles Magoo' Smith (no relation)
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