Gig Review: Peter Frampton - Corn Exchange, Cambridge 12/11/11

Now into his sixth decade of performing, Peter Frampton is a living legend. Commercially, his success may have been somewhat short-lived but pick at the stitching of rock music and you'll find him interwoven into its very fabric. Released in 1976, 'Frampton Comes Alive!' is still one of the greatest selling live albums ever, going six-times platinum, yet he is mostly remembered for making his guitar speak. He does this by using an effect known as a 'talkbox' and Frampton is certainly the man who popularised its use more than any other artist.

That talkbox is here for tonight's gig at the Corn Exchange. The event, rather grandiosely titled "An Evening With Peter Frampton", is a sold-out, all-seater, three-hour marathon divided into two defined halves. The first half, celebrating the 35th anniversary of that aforementioned album, the one that Frampton jokingly refers to as "Me Comes Alive!", sees the band giving it a full airing. The second half, dedicated to Frampton's more recent work, includes material he's written for others and covers of songs that have inspired him.

Watching the lights dim, the large video screen at the back of the stage flood with simulated smoke and hearing the familiar recorded opening of roaring crowd burst forth from the monitors, is certainly enough to trigger off the nostalgia and a few goose bumps. The band shuffle into position and, finally, Frampton emerges with a mile-wide grin. They launch themselves straight into 'Something's Happening' and we're off. The five men, amongst them Sidney Sheldon, the album's original bassist, make a fine fist of picking their way through the order, track-by-track, note-for-note, beat-for-beat. "Hello Cambridge!", announces Frampton, before popping in the information that he has always supported the city in the Boat Race. The cheered response shows he's hitting the right notes even when he's not bending the strings.

The flowing locks and the slimline figure may be gone, as the awkwardly schmaltzy images flashing across the backdrop seem keen to highlight, but his honeyed vocal remains surprisingly undiminished. It's a soft, rich and faintly nasal Clapton-esque croon that yawns out from the back of his throat. When combined with his inspirational guitar technique, he is able to create a formidable sound. His touch, awareness and control of both tone and variation of string pressure is second to none. Every string bend, tremolo and slide is pinpoint and each finger movement is accompanied by a twist of both torso and face.

Through the funky shimmying of 'Doobie Wah' and the sweeping hit 'Show Me The Way', his pistoning knees propel him around the stage like a wobbling skittle that refuses to fall. The latter song takes him from the right to centre-stage where his talkbox is positioned and we get a full display of how his mouth shape and finger position dictate the robotic sound that emerges. Throughout the set, each guitar change brings with it a sidestep from clean and crisp into warm and tremulous. One particular highlight, 'Baby, I Love Your Way', brings the coy audience fully into play and 'Do You Feel Like We Do?' is a brilliant climax to the first half, inspiring both a guitar-battle with the increasingly-featured second guitarist and a refusal to perform the track's celebrated talkbox ending - "I don't have to do it tonight, do I?" he teases, shouting "Make me!" before, of course, he acquiesces.

Certainly, the monitors do play up momentarily, there's the occasional fluffed line, and there are a few sedentary pauses between songs whilst the band switch instruments and Frampton fires up the fans, but the gentle self-deprecation displayed by the man more than makes up for these misgivings.

After the interval, we get a good dousing of his latest album 'Thankyou Mr. Churchill' with the pacy 'Restraint' and the biographical 'Vaudeville Nanna And The Banjolele'. We're also treated to an appearance from his son, Julian, who is greeted by a coddling audience aah-ing. The hooded Frampton Junior responds by snarling back the loud rocker 'Road To The Sun', before a gaudily distracting backdrop. He cuts a menacing figure with his constantly flicked long-hair but it's mainly his formidable vocal that leaves many folks in shock.

With three barking instrumentals from the Grammy-winning 'Fingerprints' and a surprisingly caustic cover of Soundgarden's 'Black Hole Sun' it clearly defines Frampton Senior's decision to start mining a harder seam of rock. Of course, he pulls it back to something more palatable in the encore by sending us off singing his praises with a sublime rendition of George Harrison's 'Whilst My Guitar Gently Weeps'. Before a packed house, Frampton certainly came alive tonight.

Photograph courtesy of Stuart Hobden @ www.stuarthogbenphotography.co.uk

Also published @ Cambridge-News = http://www.cambridge-news.co.uk/Whats-on-leisure/Reviews/Peter-Frampton-14112011.htm

Gig Review: Letlive - Portland Arms, Cambridge 9/9/11

The always alternative, yet surprisingly miniscule Portland venue in the mild-mannered UK city of Cambridge is rammed, front-to-back, side-to-side, with baying punters desperate to get a glimpse of the Letlive scream-machine. The extremely effective, femme fatale foursome of Beverley Kills (3.5 out of 5) do a damned fine job of warming those check-shirted chaps and chicks up with a smouldering pop-punk play memorable for its scowls and smiles (vocalist Georgie Morrill) and blur of thundering sticks and hair (drummer Juliette Jones).

Forthwith, LA’s Letlive (4 out of 5) emerge to yelps of joy and proceed to squeeze themselves into the various nooks and crannies of the stage, leaving the front free for lantern-jawed vocalist Jason Aalon Butler to prowl back and forth like a trapped tiger. The crowd ignore the danger signs and simply launch themselves towards the band, heaving and moshing with arms raised in triumph. A few go ass-over-tit but are soon yanked back to their feet and the small floor space quickly becomes this heaving, boiling mass of bodies. Energy is expended from both band and fans, the temperature rises and clothes are quickly shed.

The noise levels are through the roof as Ryan Jay Johnson’s cacophonic bass thrum collides with Jean Nascimento’s scaling guitars and Anthony Rivera’s imploding drum beats, and still you can hear the masses yelling every word like it’s their last. Above all that it’s very much a case of Butler trying to make himself heard and through all his intense pacing and yelling he very quickly begins to wilt. During “Muther” his knees buckle, he ceases to resist any longer and simply hands the mic over to the baying masses before him. Here, the whole force of the sound becomes a little loose and parts go missing but it’s forgivable when you consider the restricted confines of the venue.

Having whisked up the setlist to add variety to the tour, the constantly billowing mop of hair that is Ryan Jay whips out his bottle-shaker mid-set to accompany the rolling snare for “Le Prologue”. It’s like one long, sucking inhalation, building and building like a pressure-cooker until, finally, the drums crack, the top blows and the crowd becomes another furious blur of swinging arms and shoving bodies. Cue “The Sick, Sick 6.8 Billion” and we have our emotional peak. Nascimento tweaks knobs at his feet to transmogrify the sound, Rivera aggressively rides his heaving crescendo and Jeff Sayhoun tries to eat the backing mic (at least until Butler evicts him from it as the crowd absorb his own). The stage invasion begins and a few of the more confident plant kisses.

The efforts leave Butler, looking pretty out of it by now, introducing “Casino Columbus” almost apologetically as he finds his happy place at the side of the stage, catching his breath. His tattooed chest heaves up and down making the pictures warp as he croons gently into the mic before he suddenly explodes back onto stage, rips down the curtains and rail and begins pawing at the steamy windows in what appears to be one last fruitless bid for freedom. Whipping round he points first at the crowd then himself, making it clear in one simple gesture how much tonight has meant to him and his band.

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/show-reviews/letlive-cambridge-uk

Gig Review: 65daysofstatic & Loops Haunt – Junction, Cambridge 09/04/2010

My review - originally published on TLOBF:





















As soon as 65daysofstatic walk onto stage and fire up the twinkling ‘Mountainhead’, the sensory overload steps up to a whole new level. Not only have we now got volume levels that threaten to take your head off but also a series of brutal strobes and searchlights that flash on and off, attempting to burn holes in your retinas. With such an overexposed image before us, it’s easy to compare the experience to whacking up the bass boost on your iTunes whilst switching on the fluorescent kitchen light first thing in the morning. During ‘Await Rescue’ some begin to retreat to the back of the room to lurk in the shadows, whilst the 65kids, front and middle, are only spurred on to embrace the inevitable oblivion. Wonderfully, ‘A Failsafe’ locates and flicks off the “overkill” button and things improve from here on in...

Photo © Rich E

Full review = http://www.thelineofbestfit.com/2010/05/65daysofstatic-loops-haunt-junction-cambridge-09042010/

Gig Review + Interview: Editors @ Corn Exchange, Cambridge 17/3/2010

My review - originally published on TLOBF:

Seeing Editors perform their synth-infested, infinitely bleaker third album, intercut with older material, is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. One minute we’re thrilled and empowered by thumping tracks like ‘The Racing Rats’ and ‘Munich’ and next we’re being impaled upon the heart-wrenching slog of gloom-dwelling laments like ‘You Don’t Know Love’ or ‘The Big Exit’. Certainly the former style is far easier to swallow than the latter – the faithful pogo and batter out metronomic handclaps with the echoic tempos...

Photo © Rich E

Full review = http://www.thelineofbestfit.com/2010/03/editors-cold-cave-the-strange-death-of-liberal-england-corn-exchange-cambridge-1732010/

My interview - originally published on TLOBF:

Me: Do you still get a buzz when you see your record in the music shops?
Russell (bassist): Yeah! I mean, I check for it. It’s nice when it’s wrapped up. If I’m in a cool town, I try and go record shopping and see what they recommend, see if I can get some vinyl. It’s always nice to see your album artwork in there along with all the other records. I went into Piccadilly Records in Manchester and they had all three on vinyl and it was quite nice.

Full interview = http://www.thelineofbestfit.com/2010/03/tlobf-interview-editors-2/

Gig review: The Answer + Black Spiders + Dark Horse – The Junction, Cambridge, 08/12/09

Going head-to-head in a self-defeating battle of rock promoters, the bands on tonight’s Cambridge Junction bill are going up against the powerhouses of Dragonforce and Glamour Of The Kill who are playing across town at the Corn Exchange. The quick fill suggests that, not only have they stolen some of the aforementioned bands’ crowd but that, people have ventured from far and wide to catch a glimpse of this venue’s headliners, The Answer – a band experiencing probably the most oustanding year of anyone on the rock circuit.

Kicking us off tonight, Dark Horse, are clearly revelling in the pregnant atmosphere. “I’m feeling it, let’s ride this bitch!” cries the lead vocalist/bassist Will Walter (one of three brothers on stage) before the band stutter into their highlight, Unspoken. The two guitarists flanking him rip out familiar riffs and leads, all the time dancing upon the grave of the now-defunct band, The Darkness. There’s no doubting the influence – you just have to look at Will’s trousers to show they are proud to be able to follow in such grandiloquent footsteps; one pant leg is denim, the other is white leather. Quite why they’d want to mimic their idols so closely is beyond me, but they have a damned good go at it, overegging the pudding at every opportunity. Falling short is inevitable, but it’s nice to see a little bit of AC/DC influence also creep in along the way. Highlights are the one-man rampage through the crowd that guitarist Ollie Walter attempts during ‘Pictures’ (he’s hilariously followed by a roadie with a torch to light his way) and the back-flip finale that Tom Johnson pulls off… just.

Black Spiders are burly, butch, brash and lots of other things starting with ‘b’. It’s the big beards that make them stand out physically and the bruising beats that isolate them sonically. A string of four axemen spread across the front of the stage, pinpoints the direction of their sound – guitar-driven desert rock with little touches of classic, old school riffing thrown in to fill out the mix. By tossing out the infectious chorus of Stay Down for the crowd to singalong to, they mark their territory early, with frontman Pete Spiby asking those gathered to raise their middle fingers and point them in his general direction whilst screaming “Fuck you Black Spiders!” It’s a move that certainly raises the temperature a couple of notches and endears the band to the crowd with immediate effect. It’s like listening to Maylene & The Sons Of Disaster on some kind of power trip. By St. Peter, drummer ‘Tiger Si’ Atkinson is leaning over his kit to longingly eyeball the crowd whilst the guitarists are taking it in turn to laugh dementedly into their mics. A bed of smoke begins to rise from the floor and a blue hue is thrown onto the stage to blur the lines even further. “How are you doing, Cambridge?” yells Spiby and repeats it over and over until he’s got the crowd busting a gut to appease him. Behind his rotund physique, Atkinson hammers at his kit with huge towering strokes until the sizzle cymbal finally explodes in a shower of rivets. By the time they reach closer, Full Seven Inches, the audience are utterly transfixed. It’s a performance that won’t be forgotten in a hurry.

“Hello Cambridge town. We’re The Answer from County Down, Northern Ireland, and we have some business with you tonight… and that business is rock and roll”. It’s a beautifully worded introduction and the riotous response indicates that plenty have heard it before. The Answer have spent the year touring as main support for AC/DC on their incredible ‘Black Ice’ U.S./Europe tour and have loved every minute of it. It’s been the proving ground on which they’ve tightened up their act, so that now they could pretty much do this gig with their eyes shut. The experience is showing as little marks all over the stage – taped crosses to indicate where they need to stand at any one time to maximise a riff or a movement. Out front, it’s the extra margin that proves there class. Lead vocalist Cormac Neeson is resplendent in his familiar flowery shirt and long hippie hair (a mop to begin with, it takes shape as he sweats it out) and he moves like a man possessed by the bluesy rhythms. They seem to flow through him as he stoops and shrugs, taking great heaving breaths to suck up the heart of firstly their single, ‘Tonight’, then the pulsing rocker, ‘Demon Eyes’. His croaked, yet voluminous delivery is a talent that his own peers, nay, idols crave (Def Leppard’s Joe Elliott has professed to being a fan) and, on the band’s slower material, it steps into the spotlight, stunning the crowd into a jaw-dropping silence. ‘Cry Out’ and, especially, ‘Why’d You Change Your Mind?’ are stunners, transcending the borrowed chords to stand alone as things of beauty.

All the way through, Neeson is checking back in with the crowd to make sure they’re all enjoying themselves, be it to regale us with faux stories of how the drummer turned down a place on the Cambridge University Rowing Team to play drums tonight, to ask us to help them out by clapping to keep the band in time, requesting a singalong for the now famous Belfast Blues Off, or letting us know that the band haven’t forgotten the last time they played Cambridge (three years ago). At his side, guitarist Paul Mahon constantly switches between guitars all night, utilising finger-slides, capos, whammy bars and wah pedals to hammer home an array of different sounds. It’s his solos that startle the most – he leans into them, stepping right out to the edge of the stage, before raising his axe triumphantly after each one’s climax. During ‘Evil Man’, Neeson steps off-stage to sing with the front row so that, come the end, he and his cracking band are being roared from the stage as heroes.

Photo by Rich E

Also online @ TLOBF = http://www.thelineofbestfit.com/2009/12/the-answer-black-spiders-dark-horse-%E2%80%93-the-junction-cambridge-081209/

Gig Review: The Drift – Man On The Moon, Cambridge 14/05/08

The Man On The Moon is a curious venue. It’s dark, grimy and has a bizarre set-up with the sub-woofer located under the stage and a wiring system so complex that it enables the soundman to only alter pairs of monitors at a time. With the lights rigged up to blaze out only a red glow it’s almost like being in a quirky Dutch brothel.

Tonight’s promoter, Xavier, doubles as the opening act, Twenty Three Hanging Trees. He’s hunched over his guitar making a warping wall-of-sound belch forth with the use of heavy reverb and loops. The venue’s mural of an astronaut floats behind his head and this only increases the whole other-worldly appeal of it. Above him hangs a dead disco ball and before him the audience sits cross-legged reverentially rocking back and forth in time with the warping guitar. He reaches across to pick up two musical boxes, in turn, which he carefully places on his pick-ups and a steady, tinkling tune is heard over the reverb as he winds them. It’s all a little too cosmic and somewhat peculiar, but there is a certain magic within his music.

Urbantramper & 10,000 Times Glorious, candidates for the most pretentious bandname ever, seem at first to be the very definition of “twee” but have the substance to back it all up. The lead-singer, the aforementioned Urbantramper, resembles a vicar with his shirt done up beneath his chin but he displays an obvious talent for the guitar, confidently plucking out simple, catchy folk rhythms. Sitting by his side, gazing up at him, is Eli D on tambourine and xylophone. Her harmonies are simply beautiful tonight and along with keyboardist George’s punchy vocal style they provide excellent back-up. They appear to be suffering a little from nerves but it doesn’t show in the music and their strong, upbeat songs are well-received by the sparse crowd.

By the time The Drift take the stage the venue is by no means at capacity but with many still sitting it appears fuller and quite a fair turn-out for a Wednesday night. After some early technical problems with the sound, the band begin recreating their complex mix of ambient jazz, gentle post-rock and dub with a surprising level of consistency.

Jeff Jacobs is the focal point raising his battered-looking trumpet to slowly eek out a resplendent blare that dips and rises gently. Across from him, Danny Grody ducks up and down as his guitar oozes a warm, melodious echoed arrangement. Intermittently he turns to his keyboard to mimic the trumpet but it’s a less harsh, lusher sound that emerges. Meanwhile, Safa Shokrai, bearded and bespectacled, stands in the background working his enormous upright bass with nimble fingers, occasionally whipping out a bow to produce longer notes. All the while his thick, black specs slip slowly down his face only to be swept back into place when the music allows him time to. Finally, we have Rich Douthit on drums, disciplined enough not to overuse his kit, employing an uplifting beat before dropping out to produce an ambient wash of cymbals.

Together, the band and their music are simply awesome. They kick off with ‘If Wishes Were Like Horses’ with it’s slow, steady, “come hither” teasing, follow through into ‘Uncanny Valley’, all jazzy trumpet, bright and sharp, with a pulsing afrobeat and rich dub wash before giving us all a glorious rendition of the dramatic ‘Land’s End’. As their set comes to an end they seem happy to take a shouted request and play a stunning track from an earlier EP (I missed the track title) that includes a stunning array of percussive tricks including some outstanding rim-scrapes which involves dragging the drumstick over the ridges at the centre of the cymbal.

The only thing missing tonight is a drop-screen light show and even that might even have ended up intruding on the purity of the music. The Drift are off to continue their mad dash around the dives of Europe whilst we lucky few are tonight more than grateful for their insanity.

Photo courtesy of Rich E

This review originally appeared on Sonic Dice and TLOBF

Gig Review: As I Lay Dying @ Barfly, Cambridge 24/3/08

Following a long delay and a seemingly endless series of sound-checks the lights dim and the crowd noise doubles in intensity. The opening bars of ‘Separation’ ring out and As I Lay Dying burst on with ‘Nothing Left’. Immediately Tim Lambesis’ vocal blows us all away as he lets rip a gigantic roar - it seems to sweep out into the room as a soundwave knocking us back a few paces. His huge frame appears over the madly devil-horning crowd and we know we’re in for one wild ride.

As has gone with the bands before, it’s abundantly clear that when the venue is full the low ceiling and stage mean that anyone back from the first five rows aren’t going to see much of the band tonight. Maybe the odd glimpse of a guitar or the top of Lambesis’ head as he stretches to see how many are in tonight, but mainly just the backs of heads. I can just about make out that there isn’t much room for them all on stage with Nick Hipa hiding behind bassist Josh Gilbert but still churning out a conveyor belt of incredible shred guitar.

‘An Ocean Between Us’ and ‘The Darkest Night’ blast out and those watching echo the words straight back. The pit opens up and the mosh begins in earnest. Tonight the search-lights are in action sweeping out across the crowd whilst the coloured strobes attempt to reduce our view of the band even further. Lambesis is up on the barrier, awash with tattoos, high-fiving and screaming bloody murder at us. As the blistering pace of ‘Within Destruction’ falls away, and the pit collapses into a sweaty mass, he leans forward and asks “Is everybody still alive?” It’s certainly getting pretty stuffy but the endless supply of water at the bar makes it bearable. As their set comes to a close not a soul leaves and they treat us to an encore kicking off with the anthemic ‘I Never Wanted’ and ending on the pogo-friendly ‘Falling Upon Deaf Ears’. It’s certainly been a treat for our ears if not our eyes.

Also online @ Music-Zine = http://www.music-zine.com/reviews/?id=440

Gig Review: Athlete + Broken Family Band @ CornEx, Cambridge, 5/2/08

The Broken Family Band, hailing from Cambridge (and bits of Foxton and London), are the city’s most successful band of recent years. They’ve been receiving all sorts of plaudits and not just from local press. NME, Rocksound, The Independent, The Guardian (I could go on) all talk highly of their music with Pitchfork claiming them “a triumph of urban wit over rustic convention”. So we’re expecting big things then.

Well, from way back here in the Corn Exchange’s curious V.I.P. area, below the upper balcony, it’s hard to get into such an unenthusiastic band. Those that are here for their brand of shoegaze/alt-country melancholy seem thin on the ground judging from the crowd reaction. Steven Adams, the lead singer, looks like Dec (of Ant + Dec) would look like after a hefty drinking session. He’s sporting a baggy checked shirt and it matches his tired banter with the crowd. “We don’t usually enjoy playing in Cambridge but you’ve been great”, he drones miserably. He follows that up with a resigned “Athlete are nearly on”. To be fair the band barely has time to get the crowd going but they have a go and ‘Don’t Change Your Mind’ and ‘It’s All Over’ are well-received.

From the moment the charisma of Athlete’s Joel Pott hits the stage everything changes. As he sings the first bars of opener ‘Tokyo’, from latest album ‘Beyond The Neighbourhood’, the crowd comes to life. His hard-edged, lilting yet urgent vocal is crystal-clear over the music. It’s pretty unusual to be able to catch every single syllable but that’s what both he and his sound-crew have managed to pull off. Every… single… syllable. ‘Westside’ is a joy with Pott standing alone in the spotlight, all eyes glued to him, as he slowly leads up to where the band provide the back-boost and the crowd join in with that damnable catchy chorus - “Wherever you look you can see that everybody wants to be part of the rock scene”. It’s the leaps in pitch delivery and subtle timing of the words that is so compelling - some are drawn out, others rapid-fire. The band have always managed to produced these perfect pop hits, brimming with clever lyrics and bounding, upbeat melodies, but not always received the acclaim (or airplay) each one deserves. Structured to appear impossibly difficult to perform they are just layer after layer of simplicity and are fiendishly clever.

Athlete have completely hooked the crowd by now and they begin impromptu clapping which the band encourages until it bullets them into hit single ‘Hurricane’ and searchlights swing over the masses searching out the loudest voice. Immediately mobile phones are held aloft, shining out in the darkness, each capturing their own personal memories. Behind the boys on stage four banded strips of neon light change hue and create shapes to each song whilst swathes of beams provide a backwash of colours – it’s quite a lightshow. There’s a brief respite in the songs and a face in the pit shouts out for his favourite song. “24 hours!” he yells. “We’re not playing for that long” retorts Pott with a wry smile. Then he’s suddenly serious informing us of the presence of St. John’s Ambulance and Security and promises that no-one will get hurt. We wonder where he’s going with this before he implores “So, we’ll be very disappointed if there aren’t a few people on shoulders for this next song”. The band strike up ‘Beautiful’ and a bunch of heads obligingly pop up above the crowd.

Throughout the set there are numerous guitar switches from electric to semi-acoustic and back again with a roadie scuttling on and off stage - he’s being kept busy tonight. Steven Roberts’ drums are thundering away under the quieter tracks whilst Tim Wanstall concerns himself with tinkling the ivories as well as flicking switches and turning knobs to create those “organic beats” of his. Bassist Carey Willets spends most of the gig completely absorbed in the music, swinging his head to and fro.

‘Wires’ inspires an impromptu singalong which the crowd take up and repeat back three times – all this without the band making a gesture or uttering a line and without backing. It’s quite a moment and Pott sounds honestly chuffed with the reaction. “Thank you. That’s the first time that’s happened”. ‘You Got The Style’ prompts a round of waving down the front which he returns with a warm smile. It’s tough to find anything wrong when a band is so on form and tight as this. He’s almost apologetic when revealing that they need to leave the stage before the encore - “We need to take a piss”. Such is the response that he retorts “What’s happening? I thought Cambridge was such a reserved town!” They bustle through ‘24 Hours’ take their bows and the fully-engaged crowd enthusiastically chant for more of their blustering piano-driven guitar pop-rock. They return with ‘Shake Those Windows’ and ‘Flying Over Bus Stops’ and as we all decamp to the bar or homewards we discuss nothing but just how heavily under-rated and completely unstoppable Athlete truly are.

Also online @ Music-Zine = http://www.music-zine.com/reviews/?id=420

Gig Review: Darkest Hour @ Cambridge Barfly 23/1/08

Formed in 1995, Darkest Hour have shifted through a number of genres over the years and are currently settled on a mixture of hardcore, death metal and punk. Since the release of last year’s fifth album, 'Deliver Us', they’ve been blazing a trail across the globe and Cambridge’s tiny Barfly venue is the lucky recipient of their monstrous sound tonight.

The stage is smothered in smoking dry ice and the band coughs their way through whilst simultaneously launching into the anthemic 'Doomsayer'. Looking something akin to a metal Jon Bon Jovi, vocalist, John Henry, is up on the amps bellowing at the crowd with Paul Burnette not far behind, vertically raising his bass so we can worship it. Somewhere amidst the gloom is drummer, Ryan Parrish, pummelling away at his double-kick - the whole heady mix hits us like a speeding train.

These guys mean business and they follow up with 'Demon(s)', a beacon amidst the gloom as Kris Norris, with snake tattoos winding round his middle digits, blazes out some monumental shredding that Mike Schleibaum riffs with across the stage. Only as the mist finally clears do we spot the incredible artwork of Baroness’ vocalist John Baizley. As well as the impressive backdrop he’s obviously been let loose on Burnette’s bass guitar – perhaps that’s why he’s been so keen to show us it.

The crowd, a real mixture of emo haircuts, bag-clutchers and headbanging metallers, are lapping it up. Their attempts at a circle pit, when Henry calls for one, leave a little to be desired. It quickly descends into a push-fest to see who’s drunkest. As they start playing the older material, 'Accessible Losses' gets quite the cheer, the strobes kick off and the dry ice is booted back up to invisible levels. Drummer Parrish, blind from the smokescreen, decides to go for a wander and stalks the crowd coaxing them to clap the beat out for him. In tiny yellow shorts he decides to take out his frustrations on the Barfly’s unfortunate central pillar, which has been blocking his view throughout, by trying to impregnate it before returning to his kit to beat out the remnants of the new album’s awesome title-track, 'Deliver Us', and leave us all gasping for air. The darkest hour approaches and we filter out exhausted, but utterly exhilarated.

Also online @ Music-Zine = http://www.music-zine.com/reviews/?id=405

Sport: Oxbridge Engineering Sports Day 2007

Every year unbeknownst to the outside world there is a colossal clash of great engineering minds. It features Cambridge University Engineering Department trading blows with the Oxford University Department of Engineering Science and, over the course of a day, one great establishment overcomes another across a range of sporting events - golf, softball, punting, cricket and tennis.

In recent years there have also been unofficial events played alongside those recognised. This year the spare places on the Cambridge coach are taken up by football-crazy engineers hell-bent on humiliating their Oxford rivals despite the lack of a trophy to recognise the feat. I am one of those determined few.

Oxford is hosting this year’s event and we arrive in their fair city on the stroke of noon. A connecting bus is caught to the Brasenose Sports Ground following lunch and we find our opponents already in full kit warming up – an ominous sight.

There’s only time for a quick warm-up and team-talk and then suddenly we’re off. Oxford start brightly with quick passing and some intricate dribbling, but Cambridge defend strongly and find space down the wings for the strikers to attack. It’s a real game of cat-and-mouse until disaster strikes. Our defensive midfielder, Chris Cassidy, goes in for a tackle and comes away with a badly twisted knee and has to go off. Oxford very sportingly loan us one of their substitutes, but as our lynchpin limps off the game opens up for Oxford.

Within ten minutes Oxford go 2-0 up as their striker proves too speedy for our ageing defence. He beats the offside trap and runs clear to round Cambridge’s otherwise excellent goalkeeper before slotting his second in off the left-hand post. Unbowed, we continue to raid down their weaker left side and get a well-earned free kick around the edge of the penalty area. The defence pour into the box and, as the kick curls in, yours truly manages to get a glancing header on target to reduce the arrears. Game on.

As half-time approaches, the older Cambridge legs start to creak and Oxford goes for the jugular. Two raids through the middle and one killer counter-attack lead to three easy goals and as the whistle sounds for the break it’s a miserable 5-1 score line.

Drinks are taken and soothing ointments are applied to sore areas. A quick change of formation leads to our striker being redeployed in defence and in the first few minutes this seems to blunt Oxford’s attacking prowess. Although, in hindsight, it may the fact that it had started raining, making the ball more difficult to control, may have had more to do with it.

Then, lo and behold, Cambridge start to dictate the play and pepper the Oxford keeper with shots. Goal-line scrambles and some clever defending at corners keeps the Cambridge side out but they are not to be denied. A foul on the edge of the area follows and Cambridge front man, Meshal Almane steps up and hammers it low past the wall and through the keeper’s outstretched arms to reduce the arrears.

From here both defences stand firm with both goalkeepers excelling with fine saves. As the minutes tick away, and with the rain now bucketing down, both sides become more conservative. Dribbling skills fall away as legs tire and the passes begin to shorten. The final whistle sounds with the score at 5-2 to Oxford.

Hands are shaken and cheers for each side are chanted vigorously. There are even beers waiting for both winning and losing sides in the changing rooms. Cambridge Captain, Tim Nichols, praises the Oxford team before thanking his players. “I was chuffed with the work rate, team spirit and ‘never say die’ attitude of my players. We kept battling and challenging for every ball right up to the final whistle”. All agreed it was a thoroughly enjoyable game and that next year the football should be repeated and become an official event in the Sports Day programme.

The coach arrives soon after and we’re all transported back to the University Club for the presentation of trophies where we learn that Oxford have won all the events save the tennis. They therefore take the Wroth Trophy as overall winners and are roundly applauded before all those present tuck into the delightful buffet that Oxford have laid on. A thoroughly successful and enjoyable day is had by all.
© Johnskibeat

Click here to see my review in the Local Secrets online magazine...

Clubbing: Generator @ Kambar, Cambridge

Following five days hard labour, the weekend is finally here and what better way is there to let off steam than to dance until you drop? Tonight's club of choice is Generator at the Kambar located opposite the Corn Exchange Box Office.

A quick look on their website reveals that the Kambar is housed in a Grade I listed building made up of beams salvaged from wrecked sailing ships dating back to 1624. In its long history, the building has been used as a butcher's, a tea shop, private housing and a restaurant.

Tonight it's a nightclub run by husband and wife team, Richard & Sue Reynolds, and a very successful one judging from the number of revellers inside. Kambar regular, DJ Neil Ogden, is on the decks playing a mix of punk, pop and rock. The music ranges from oldies like Velvet Underground and Joy Division, through The Smiths and The Cure right up to present day anthems from The Killers and The White Stripes.

The décor isn't quite what you'd find in any other nightclub, mainly a dirty brown, with most of those ship's beams still poking through, some coated in anti-vandal paint, and the furniture looks like it fell off the back of a lorry. Then there's the bar which is replete with cans, not a pint glass in sight. Shots come in those little plastic cups you get out of vending machines.

Some may go so far as to describe this place as a "dive" but this place isn't short of supporters. In fact a good share of tonight's clientele pay the Kambar a visit at least once a week to let their hair down. The alcohol is cheaper than most of Cambridge's other clubs (I heartily recommend the Sex On The Beach), the music's treble isn't drowned out by the bass, the entry fee is a mere £3, and there's no dress code (barring the ridiculous).

Song of the night goes to The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" which has me bouncing around linking arms with smiling strangers. I think this may be the moment when I understand what the Kambar is all about - being yourself. I spend half the night slumped in a bean-bag tapping my foot to the music and chatting with friends, and the other half throwing shapes to all my favourites. All because that's just what I felt like doing. I'll certainly be back to do more of what I feel like in the future.

© Johnskibeat

Commissioned by the Local Secrets online magazine...

Sport: The Copyright Cup 2007

If I said I was playing in the Copyright Cup would you know what I was talking about? The name needs some explanation I feel.

Well, several months ago now eleven librarians from the National Library of Scotland (NLS) went in to their closets and each removed a pair of old, battered and, no doubt mud-encrusted, football boots. This innocent gesture began a chain of events that ended up in the NLS inviting three other copyright libraries to join them in Edinburgh for a magnificent tournament of football.

So it was on Friday 1st June 2007 that several football-obsessed Cambridge University librarians, one being myself, caught the 10:33 from Cambridge bound for bonnie Scotland and an exhausting weekend of advancing inter-library relations.

The Pear Tree on West Nicolson Street became the initial destination where all four teams met up for the draw. An event perceived by many as a chance to judge their opponents varying levels of fitness. First impressions were that there were more of those taller and younger than us and fewer not so.

As Ireland drew Scotland and England drew Wales out of the hat roars and groans went up. The Welsh were feared – any side with their own kit and team bus must be good. Friendships were immediately struck up, however, and all were quick to learn that this was a tournament not to be taken lightly.

Saturday began with a pre-match stroll up local landmark Arthur’s Seat. Halfway-up it became apparent that this wasn’t our best idea ever. 823 feet later and with aching bones, a muddle of chastened Cantabrigians steadily descended back to base-camp.

Not an hour later and all were heading for Peffermill Playing Fields and the semi-final play-offs. Team photos were taken and then anthems were sung (some National, some alternative) and the games commenced.

First game up for Cambridge was Wales and this proved to be a particularly tricky proposition. A well-drilled defensive unit of Siam Bhayro, Angela Pittock, Tim Cruickshank and Angela Fitzpatrick, thwarted many a Welsh attack but as the reds domination began to tell it became apparent that the breakthrough would come. Goalkeeper, Robin James, was making incredible save after incredible save and at half-time the score remained 0-0 and a well-earned breather for the Cambridge defence.

Second half began with the Welsh pushing their enormous centre-back, Huw Bonner into an attacking midfield role. Within minutes he’d made two searing runs into the box and the score was 2-0, one a towering header from a pinpoint cross on the right and the other a defence-splitting dribble and shot. Nothing for it then but to push more players forward in search of that elusive CUL shot at goal. And it worked. Two weak shots came in from Tim Cruickshank and John Clarke. One easily scooped up by the NLW keeper and one way over the bar. But at least the Welsh goal had been threatened. Ultimately though, the extra gaps at the back meant clearer NLW attacks and at the final whistle the score was 4-0 to the boys and girls from the valleys. Despite the long faces, we all agreed that the cheerleading CUL substitutes Chris Bell, Eleonore Migiet, Rachel Marsh and Claire Murnin, plus WAGs Louise and Hazel, had made the most noise and had kept the team going with their continuous chanting. Naturally, we claimed a moral victory for this reason.

Rushing across to find out the result of the other match we learned that Scotland had triumphed over Ireland 3-1. So tomorrow’s matches, to be played consecutively would be England v Ireland in the third-place play-off, and Scotland v Wales in the final.

After quick showers and some more bonding at the bar, it was off to the Ceilidh. Held at the Counting House, next door to the Pear Tree, there waited an array of food, drinks & a full Ceilidh band which gave the teams a chance to let their hair down and dispel the myth of the finger-wagging timid librarian once and for all. Kilts were worn with pride by a few Scots which added a real sense of national pride to the occasion. Cambridge got stuck into the ceilidh dancing enthusiastically and soon picked many of the intricate steps involved to their own and their team-mates astonishment. As the evening drew to a close all agreed it was a wonderful way to spend a night out in Edinburgh.

The morning of the last matches began with drawn faces and aching limbs; team-mates comparing bruises and minutes of sleep gained. A hearty breakfast soon revived spirits (those that had plumped for the haggis on the first morning chose something a little less adventurous) and the walk down to the ground was a lively one. A full warm-up was needed to remove the aches and then it was straight into the battle to avoid the wooden-spoon.

Ireland began brightly but soon it was England who began to dominate possession. Suddenly, the goal was in sight and a deft through-ball led to skipper Richard Young controlling in the area and side-footing adroitly into the net. 1-0 to the CUL. The celebrations were more an outpouring of relief than anything else. To leave without scoring in the tournament would have been a complete failure. Little were we to know that this match would contain eight excellent goals! Ireland equalised and then took the lead with their star-player, Stephen Hanaphy, causing havoc when pushing forward. The half-time whistle went and a rousing Cambridge team-talk ensued. “We can win this but we have to stay focussed”, was one cry.

Suddenly we were off again with inter-library loan officer, John Clarke, pushed deeper to midfield-enforcer, and manuscript fetcher, Ian Pittock, moved to the wing. This was working. More Cambridge pressure, a wicked Tim Cruickshank dribble, a late run and deft header from Clarke and it was 2-2. But, alas, Ireland forced it down the left wing and crossed for 3-2. Immediately, Charlie Cruickshank picked it up in midfield, went past two, nay three, defenders and blasted it into the Irish net. 3-3. But, woe of woes, poor tracking from Clarke and the team from Dublin had another. 4-3. With time ebbing away, a steaming run from Andrew Alexander and a pass into Jez Cruickshank’s feet and suddenly their was an opening. Jez looked up, a good 20 yards out, turned and blasted it high and wide to the keeper’s left for 4-4. The crowd screamed and hollered. What a match. As the final whistle blew Cambridge celebrated the draw like a victory. Bronze medals all round and a split wooden spoon which quickly went walkabouts.

So, to the final. I’d love to say this was the beautiful game at its finest, but I’d be lying. The Welsh humbled the poor Scots and despite a few attacks down the right from the boys and girls in blue it was an all-red walk-over. Camwy MacDonald banged in two, Huw Bonner lifted his tournament tally to three and two Welsh penalties were missed. The crowd cheered and booed in all the wrong places and the National Library of Wales rode out deserved winners 4-0.

The weekend ended with speeches in the bar. The NLW captain said how he was chuffed to bits to be hosting the next Copyright Cup and promised to make us all as welcome as the NLS had made us feel. Rachel Edwards, the organiser, thanked everyone for attending and making the event a complete success and all teams responded in kind by thanking her for making it more enjoyable than they could ever have imagined. Richard Young, the Cambridge captain, said “It is an honour for the CUL to be part of the first Copyright Cup, and this can only be good for public relations between the copyright libraries. I'm very proud of all my players, who have trained hard over the last 5 months to be ready for the tournament and we can't wait for Wales next year”.
Hear, hear.
© Johnskibeat

Click here to read the heavily edited version of my report on the University of Cambridge website...

Tags: cambridge college copyright cup dublin edinburgh football ireland library national scotland trinity university wales