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Did the Earth Move for You, Too?
You know you’re having a weird Saturday when you log into Facebook mid-afternoon and all your friends are talking about an earthquake.
I was in Cardiff city centre at the time, doing a bit of networking. I found two places who are happy to put posters up for our gigs, but there’s a desperate shortage of independent retailers I can bring on board. Twenty years ago we probably could have had space in Chapter and Verse, Eccentrix, Oriental Arts, I Claudius, the Celtic Cauldron, Buzz & Co, the Emporium … They’re all gone. Tim in Rebel Rebel – an old pal from my days working in Cardiff – has guaranteed us a place just inside the door for future use. The good people at Professional Music Technology (terrific shop, terrible abbreviation) will plug our events as well. It’s a start. I might pop into Studentville (City Road/Albany Road) next week and see if I can make any inroads there.
I took a stroll through Castle Arcade to scout potential poster sites. No joy there, but I discovered a fantastic shop called Magic and Mayhem, devoted to Harry Potter merchandise. I could have spent a fortune in there. Abbie (Barrie and Amanda’s daughter) would love it, as would a lot of my friends. And, appropriately enough, that was when the weirdness set in.
I popped into Nosda on Fitzhamon Embankment for a swift half, and everyone there was talking about an earthquake in South Wales. It was all over everyone’s social media feeds. One guy had passed a string of alarms going off on the houses in Splott, and thought it was a bit odd. Other than that, no bugger had experienced the slightest tremor. But it did happen; a shock measuring 4.4 on the Richter scale, with its epicentre a few klicks from Neath, had been confirmed by the British Geological Survey in their Twitter feed. What the actual frack is that all about?
As for me? Never felt a thing. By an odd coincidence, that’s exactly what my last ex-girlfriend said.
But I digress …
And so to Jac’s for another evening of original rock music. The weirdness continued when I was greeted at the door by Amanda, sporting newly purple hair. I told her that she looked like Nymphadora Tonks might have looked if she’d survived the Battle of Hogwarts. My pal Clive was coming in at the same time, so we grabbed a pint in the bar during the soundcheck. We had a good chat about cosmology and quantum mechanics (as you do), and then went into the music room. There was a decent crowd in already, and it was still early. That was a good sign.
First up were Digital Criminals, from Pontypool. They played here before Xmas as part of the Women of Rock package, but I think I was in London that day. Loads of my friends have told me how great they are, and I was pleased to believe the hype for once.
They have a very interesting sound, built on the standard rock framework of guitar/vocals, bass/vocals, drums, but with a female singer to add a more melodic element to the mix. She’s a great frontperson, too, with tremendous presence, energy, and a very unusual approach, alternating the mic with a megaphone. The music was far more varied than the ‘meat and potatoes’ fare served up by many Hard Rockers these days. I don’t know whether one of the instruments was a MIDI controller, because there seemed to be some interesting keyboard-style lines as well. There’s definitely more to Digital Criminals than meets the eye.
It was good to see plenty of new faces here. It backs up my hypothesis that people will travel across the Valleys (and from further afield) to see good bands. I don’t think they were really warmed up during Digital Criminals’ set, though, and their response to the music seemed a little flat. As with the rugby last week, some of the crowd seemed more interested in taking selfies than in watching the proceedings.
Rule 25: If it isn’t on Snapchat, it never really happened.
The singer went on a little walkabout after a couple of songs. You can do that in Jac’s because you’re up close and personal with the audience. You couldn’t easily do that in (say) the old Bogiez in Cardiff. It’s just another point in our favour. In hindsight, we should have let her use Barrie’s radio mic – although Goddess only knows where she’d have ended up if we had. By the end of their set, only the drummer was still in place. The singer was as far from the stage as the cable allowed, while the guitarist and bass player were standing on adjacent tables. Try doing that in the Coliseum!
Rule 26: If you want to hear decent live music, be prepared to put your hand in your pocket.
I’ve never yet met a working musician who lived entirely on fresh air and the good wishes of the audience. Nobody would dream of just strolling straight into the Coliseum, or St David’s Hall, or a West End theatre, without stopping at the box office first. And yet Barrie told me that four girls had balked at paying a fiver to see three original bands. It’s no skin off our noses. Go up that London, girls, and see how much live music you’ll get for your fiver! Better still, keep your cash in your purse and go and watch some professional karaoke singer murdering the only Alannah Miles song anyone’s ever heard – for the zillionth time. The nearest one is in the Marquis.
I bet they’re people who wouldn’t think twice about paying nearly thirty quid to see a Dire Straits tribute act on Friday night, though. Call me old-fashioned if you like, but for thirty quid I’d expect nothing less than Mark Knopfler and Co themselves.
Maybe people have had their expectations lowered by two decades of ropey cover bands and professional karaoke for sod all. But that isn’t why Jac’s is here. We’re providing the sort of entertainment that Aberdare has been crying out for since the heady days of the Hollies in the old Memorial Hall. (No, I wasn’t there, before you ask!) And decent music doesn’t grow on trees.
When I returned from the bar, four women had dived into the seats near me. We chatted briefly – mainly about what I was writing (notes for this very blog, as it happened). Then I heard one of them say ‘Expelliarmus!’ I knew I should have splashed out on a wand when I was in Magic and Mayhem. Can you imagine a crazy magical duel going on between rock sets?
The music between sets seemed a bit incongruous. ‘Mr Blue Sky’ is a great record, but ELO aren’t usually considered part of the Heavy Rock canon. I need to draw up some Spotify playlists for events like this and run them past the Committee for further consideration.
I always think it’s a bit ungracious when the first band doesn’t stick around for the rest of the gig. For a moment I thought Digital Criminals were about to bale out, but they were just putting their gear away while Nasty High sorted their stuff out. When I looked around again, the guitarist and bass player were propping up the bar. Professional musicians, see.
And now for some exciting news: I’ve been commissioned to write a book.
Have you seen that series of thick illustrated books called 1000 Books/Films/Albums/Paintings You Must Read/Watch/Hear/See Before You Die? Well, my book is called 1000 Rock Guitarist Shapes You Must Throw Before You Die. Fortunately for me, Nasty High were able to provide a further seventeen entries, all in the course of one song. Nice one, lads – I’ll mention you in the acknowledgements.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Nasty High are from Nottingham, and are cast from a far more conventional Metal mould: two guitarists and a bass player, all doubling on vocals, and a drummer. Once again we were the victims of unfortunate timing. The legendary Canadian rockers Anvil were playing in Hobos, an odd little club in Bridgend. Our potential audience were forced to decide between a prolific, hard-working, enduring, and critically overlooked power trio on a rare visit to the UK, or some relatively obscure bands a couple of mountains away.
And those people who’d decided to pay Lips service in Hobos missed Nasty High, who would have been right up their street. To my mind, Nasty High provided further evidence that HR/HM, with a very few exceptions, has been stuck in the same rut since the NWOBHM broke in the wake of Punk. To these cynical ears, they weren’t doing anything that Spinal Tap didn’t do back in the day. HR/HM gets a bad press generally, and it’s been parodied viciously over the years. After a while, I found myself wondering whether the bands themselves are taking the piss, and I was the only person not in on the joke.
Nasty High are undoubtedly fine musicians – the guitar solos alone were worth the money, while the lead singer could go toe to toe with the biggest names in the field – but they aren’t really bringing anything new to an already overcrowded marketplace. I know I’ve never really taken to HR/HM, but if I closed my eyes I could have been back in Hirwaun church hall about thirty years ago, listening to Snakebite. Except that the vicar didn’t pop his head in to tell us it was time to wrap things up. What the late (and much-missed) Revd. Russell Chiswell made of the inverted crosses on the drum kit must, I’m afraid, forever remain a mystery.
As with too many HR/HM bands, I thought Nasty High somehow managed to deliver less than the sum of their parts. At least neither guitarist had the indecency to play a Flying V. Now that really would have been Bad News.
The headline act were Kane’d – the band with possibly the most random tour itinerary since the Hollies played the Mem: Stoke, Burnley, Aberdare, Tavistock, Evesham, Sutton-in-Ashfield, Hull, Newcastle, Edinburgh, Crumlin, Cergy (France), Vienna, Cologne, Kutna Hora (Czech Republic), Austvahn (Norway). And I thought the Legendary Pink Dots played in some random places.
Their stagecraft was evident from the outset. I thought the drummer was just checking his levels with a quick solo, but then the bass player took the stage and picked up the beat. The two guitarists rocked up (sorry!) together. Then three female singers, looking exactly the way Rock Chicks are supposed to look, crashed the stage … and the place exploded. What an amazing way to start a set!
Three women’s voices, all in tight harmony, blew away the dusty cobwebs of HR straight away. It’s always been a very blokeish scene, on the whole. With a small number of exceptions (the Runaways, Doro Pesch, Lita Ford, and so forth), women in HR have traditionally been eye candy on LP covers and/or groupies. Kane’d were a real breath of fresh air, musically and stylistically. They had a good old-school Thrash vibe going on, which I can appreciate a bit more than the real Metal screamers. (I blame Phil, my brother, as I told you last week.) I don’t know what the singers’ background is, but I’m willing to bet they’ve been involved in performing arts since childhood. They’re energetic, charismatic and polished. And woe betide anyone who expected tired Adele and Celine Dion covers. These girls are Rock Chicks to the core – more black leather than ‘Black Velvet’. Thank Goddess.
About halfway through their set, I realised just why Kane’d were doing a European tour: they’re insanely great. The rhythm section is as tight as the proverbial gnat’s chuff, and the lead solos are economical and subtle. There’s no need to play nine million notes a second when half a dozen well played harmonics do the job equally well. They played a great mix of up-tempo and slower numbers. It’s nice to vary the pace a bit. The guitarists went on a little walkabout during the set, too. The vocal harmonies really worked well with their material, which is interesting and definitely deserves further attention. It’s been many years since I led the chant of ‘One more song!’, but I was pleased to do it for Kane’d. They can come back whenever they like.
Could Digital Criminals and Kane’d be the keys to reopen my personal door to the Heavy Rock scene? It’s too early to say for sure, but I bought a CD from each of them, so it’s a start. More importantly, I had a look at the rest of the Kane’d merchandise while we were chatting. The T-shirts had their tour dates listed on the reverse, including, in clear lettering: Aberdare, Jacs. That means that, scattered all across Europe, a number of people will soon be walking around with our name on their backs. You can’t buy publicity like that.
As with last week’s gig, Phil and all our HR/HM mates missed out on a great night. I know it’s easy to fall into the whole four-pack/takeaway/DVD trap – especially when you’ve got family responsibilities. But (another big ‘but’) it won’t kill you to get the grandparents to babysit and venture outdoors once in a while. I know it’s a big scary world, but sitting at home with the news headlines on a constant loop ain’t gonna make it any less scary.
Everyone – without exception – who’s played here has told us what a superb place it is. Usually there’s someone with a hitch/glitch/bitch about something or other. Not here. We’re still building things up, of course, but Aberdare has been desperate for a mid-sized venue for as long as I can remember. The fact that working bands are, even at this early stage, approaching us to ask if they can play a gig here gives you an idea of the potential market for live music in this part of the world. And why would you want to struggle through a set in the back of a pub, competing with the football on TV and people playing pool, when you can come here instead?
I’m biased, obviously, but I’m not ashamed to sing this place’s praises at every opportunity. Why not do what I do, and make it your default option on a Saturday night? It beats sitting at home and watching The Fix Factory any day of the bloody week.
That’s why it was great to see Clive, Leighton, Dai, Jazz, Sheppy and Jason here. They’re all big music fans, and people like us should be the core audience for Jac’s. Apart from Leighton and myself, none of them spend much (if any) time online. They’d either seen the posters, or heard about the gig on the grapevine, or decided to take a punt. And that last point, in a nutshell, is what Jac’s is all about. Take a punt! You won’t win on each and every gig, but you’ve got to be in it to win it.
All that we need now is a decent transport link to the outside world. I think loads more people would come to our gigs if they could stick around until last orders and still have a fighting chance of getting home. My pal Gaz once told me that his life’s ambition is to travel to his office in Llandaff on an electrified train. He’s going to have to embark on some serious bodyhacking to do that – at current estimates, he’ll be about 130 when it happens.
And finally …
I’ve just checked the BGS Twitter feed. Apparently a series of aftershocks were reported in Aberdare last night, following the earthquake outside Neath in the afternoon. Nah, mate – that was just three young, energetic, original bands rocking the place to its foundations.
