Psicle: August 2023

Thunderstorms all afternoon mean that Debbie and I delay getting to Victoria Park until early evening where we wander about having a few drinks, take in a few acts and have the world;s best albeit expensive chips. Raye is the most memorable act mixing soulful R&B with a few reggae beats thrown in. After a bit of grooving at the 6 Music stage we are up for the main event along with everyone else in the park. Jungle are their usual magnificent selves and just such a great band especially outside. The crowd love them and are all up for dancing to the grooves of funk, soul, dusting of disco and some proper dance grooves all round. It's a blissful heavenly way to spend a late August evening and the crowd walking back to Mile End tube are exhilarated and happy as are us two.

Raye

Jungle

Jungle with trees

Friday late afternoon train to Leicester is near empty and I have a window seat with a table all to myself. This is the way to travel. Bruce and Christine pick me up and after a tasty meal we walk down the the steam train station, past the big houses of Birstall and to the pub with the nice beer garden for a quick drink. Back home we turn in readying ourselves for the big day tomorrow. Tomorrow is good weather and Bruce and I cycle into town to browse bikes in cash converter stores and then go visit the Punk Rock Exhibition which is great fun playing name that tune (I was the only one to recognise early The Jam) and to pay homage at Johnno's shrine. Although he's still alive and presumably kicking. We browse an extra bit at the cafe opposite and have our photos taken in seaside style punk themed montages. Hilarious. Back home for lunch then out again for a traditional ride around Bradgate Park catching a bit of local cricket then back home to prepare for the evening. We lug Bruce's gig kit to the venue and then wander off for a picnic at the clock tower entertained by the passers by and various drunks. Not that seeing someone in that state is entertaining as of itself but it does cause some odd moments. Back at the Firebug we see the first band tonight which are the curiously named The Cars That Ate Paris who play an entertaining set of curious songs a bit raw and rock which is a good thing. One of the guitarists is on holiday so we have a stand in vocalist who's plays the part very well and adds a bit of animation to the proceedings. Most of the vocals are the drummer who gives a certain gravitas or at least stops them getting too excited but it's a great mix of rock, indie and weirdness. Apparently they usually wear lycra body suits which for a couple of them may look good but not sure about all of them. Similarly I'm not sure I would so not throwing stones. Next up are Not My Good Arm who I saw 4 years ago with a brass player who isn't here tonight. They play a very decent set of tunes with great guitar and bass, and drums. A rocking set with a bit of indie a touch of funk and a slice of soul. Great musicians but if were to be picky it's that they genre hop a little too much to keep a groove going. Which cannot be said about the headliners with Bruce on guitar and vocals, Wayne on a throbbing bass JJB style and Mike hitting those skins like they've personally upset him. They have a great energetic sound with tight playing and great musicianship all round. The Burnout get us into a foot shuffling, head nodding, body swinging mood with their particular brand of psyche punk which delivers the best of the Three Pees of pub, punk and psychedelic rock with a good dollop of guitar trippery thrown into the mix. Vocals are menacing as are most of the lyrics. They hold us in the groove only slightly thrown by two women who come in and go down the front to dance like mad for two songs then leave when Bruce jokingly says the next is the disco song and turns out to be the offspring of The Smiths x Joy Division (as the current designation likes to indicate). It's a great song though. So a thoroughly enjoyable selection which I really enjoy. Punk's Not Dead indeed. It's just returned to the pubs and clubs. Bruce's patter is great too. We insist on an encore of course and are treated to the Stooges. What else? A great night and I get driven home by our rock god. Next day we go for a walk and brunch (crisps for me) at the steam train station then wander the long way home. Then it's time for me to catch the train much more traumatic than coming north as there is travel chaos and I have to get a packed train with people standing. I get a seat next to a woman travelling with 2 very bored kids who are running 2 hours late. Poor woman. A great weekend though. Thanks Bruce, and Christine.

Two for the price of one! Tuesday sees me meet up with Owen at the Bedford in Balham mainly to chat but also to catch a few acts. I won't relate the as ever interesting chat with OVP but a quick run through of the acts. Compere is Tony Moore who is a musician himself and plays us a great tune on the guitar. He was in the original Iron Maiden before they decided to ditch the keyboard. Next is Sophie Benfold who sings a couple of great songs with a backing track. Tim Chapman plays a couple of decent songs and whilst he's a good guitarist I'm slightly put off by his style of singing. KTEE sings a couple of upbeat songs with a very smiley guitarist which are a nice offset to the lyrics which are generally about crap relationships (OK, crap boyfriends) and superficial friends which seems to be a theme for tonight. Madeleine McPherson is another in that genre with a very competent guitarist accompanying her. Then a couple of rocking numbers from a four piece White Gates who lean towards stadium rock complete with cock rock guitar solos. Maybe Tony should team up with them. Although entertaining it was a bit over the top but fair dues they are up on that stage living the life and I'm sat at a table sipping pale ale. Chatting with Owen more than makes up for not being on stage though. All have played 2 songs and they all take another turn at 2 each. A great night and at 5 acts for free it's even better value than the Windmill, although without the eclectic and off the wallness of that great venue.