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A Hair of the Dog
My birthday dawned white and crisp and even. Not especially deep, but deep enough to unleash the usual chaos. For the second weekend since St David’s Day, snow had arranged to inconvenience every bugger. I didn’t even bother calling into Lidl on the way into town, because I knew there wouldn’t be a loaf of bread within a 30 km radius. On the other hand, the shelves would be piled high with tins, bottles, packets … The Welsh are the world’s worst Doomsday preppers.
I called into Thereisnospoon for lunch, checked the Stagecoach Wales Twitter feed (bugger all except for a couple of half-hearted runs to Hirwaun), typed up yesterday’s blog, and then made my cautious way through icy side streets to Jac’s. The $64,000 question was: would the band have arrived safely?
The answer was: of course they had! The Italian rock trio Dobermann once played an outdoor gig at an alpine ski resort. This poor excuse for snow held no terrors for them. They’d driven down from Manchester in the early hours of Sunday morning and rocked up (no pun intended) at about 6.30. After a few hours’ kip, they were ready to start setting up.
Barrie stood me a birthday pint, and we were both fairly surprised that the support band, Wheniwas5, had made it from Ebbw Vale in one piece. Obviously the Heads of the Valleys road was open normally. The same can’t be said of the road to the Rhondda – Chloe, our barmaid, had crashed in the venue on Saturday night. The Dobermann guys surfaced shortly after I arrived, and went to fetch their gear while Wheniwas5 were setting up.
Our own piss-poor Doomsday preparations meant that the cupboard was bare, so our Italian visitors went in search of something to eat. They weren’t exactly spoilt for choice. I did suggest to Amanda (with my tongue in my cheek) that we could send out for pizza. Brill, our sound guy, couldn’t make it from Aberaman, so Barrie drove down to pick him up. That kinda set the tone for the afternoon. Three pals of mine were supposed to be coming along – they’re photography students keen to build their portfolios. Understandably, Clint and Ros were reluctant to cart expensive gear from Godreaman on foot. Meanwhile Andrew, for some bizarre reason, was stuck in Gelligaer. Maybe next time …
I felt a little bit awkward on Dobermann’s behalf. It’s hard enough to get people out of their collective comfort zone (cooked dinner, EastEnders omnibus, football, reality TV) on a standard Sunday. When there’s less public transport than usual, hardly any taxis are working, and it’s treacherous underfoot, even fewer people venture outside. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why the conservative press keeps banging on about ‘snowflakes’. People started drifting in during the soundcheck, but we only had a couple of dozen in the audience. Most of us live within easy walking distance, though. Hasn’t walking in snow been proven to be good aerobic exercise? I posted a few things on social media pour encourager les autres. My friend Sam decided to take the bait, and walked from Cwmaman along the old Dare-Aman railway line. For once, she managed to arrive with both shoes still on.
Wheniwas5 had a very unusual sound – two semi-acoustic (or possibly electro-acoustic) guitars with multiple effects pedals over a drum machine, laid-back vocals, and a layered texture that reminded me a bit of very early Gong. There was a definite space-rock vibe going on. Perhaps the lads could have varied the pace a little, but they were certainly one of the more interesting acts to have played in Jac’s recently. I’m fairly sure we’ll be seeing them again soon.
Dobermann were nothing short of brilliant. From the very outset they showed us exactly what a hard rock band should be like, even down to the Flying V. It’s a classic sound which wouldn’t have displeased any of the Carpenters gang – or even my old mates from school. Energetic, tuneful, incredibly skilful, and looking every inch the rock stars they are, the guys dominated the stage from the get-go. As well as their very strong originals, they threw a few curveballs our way – a great version of ‘L.A. Woman’, a superb ‘You Really Got Me’ (which some people have argued is the first heavy rock record anyway), and a fantastic ‘Pretty Vacant’. I’m listening to their most recent LP Pure Breed as I’m typing this, and I think it would go down well in any rock club anywhere in the country. I might take it with me next time I go to Manchester, in fact, and get the DJ in Satan’s Hollow to give it a spin.
There was even a drum solo. A proper drum solo. Maybe they were being ironic, because among their merchandise (and their set list) the words ‘I F*****g Hate Drummers’ feature prominently. It’s a more concise version of Rule 23, when you think about it. Liam, the Spectrums’ drummer, smiled wryly when I showed him one of the T-shirts. I can imagine my much-missed mate Stuart Cable laughing his head off at the sight of it.
Barrie told me afterwards that he thought Dobermann were by far the best band who’ve graced our stage during his time in the place. I’m inclined to agree – and it’s been a very strong field so far. I suggested to the lads that they come back on a day that Wales are playing Italy, and really blow the post-rugby crowd away. Let’s hope it comes off, because the snow effectively put the mockers on what could have been a huge crowd.
And relax …
Next week is our Massive 80s Weekend – three nights of electronic craziness, Hair Metal, cheesy pop hits, and general mayhem. If I survive the last part of Adam Roberts’ new book, I’ll update you on proceedings next week. And now for a lie down in a darkened room.
