Review by Gary Spiller for MPM
Itâs very leafy and green here in the countryside of South Gloucestershire, itâs also rather refined hereabouts too.
Itâs a very pleasant Sunday afternoon, in between the blustery downpours, for The Who to âHit Bristolâ as their tour poster for today proclaims. Splitting hairs, here at Badminton Estate, weâre about a half hourâs drive and as far removed from the hustle and bustle of Bristolâs city centre as one can be.
Still, weâre amongst a crowd of many thousands gathered to take in the spectacle of British rock legends The Who take their music to another level with the most capable assistance of The Heart of England Orchestra.
Whilst, nestled in the shadow of the Worcester Lodge â the estateâs Northern entrance, weâre a little way away from the 12th Duke of Beaufortâs front lawn (more of him later âŠ. The Duke not the lawn in case clarification is somehow required) there pervades a well-heeled, genteel air of gentrified respectability. Not quite the mods and rockers tearing up Brightonâs seafront, in fact itâs all convivial between the once rival factions.
The home of the internationally renown Badminton Horse Trials and where the sport that shares the estateâs name was popularised in the 19th century this estate is much lauded lands. There is, after all, a double decker Routemaster bus serving Pimms near the back of the temporary arena. Tonightâs headliners, in terms of rock nâ roll history and nobility, are in my books on at least parity with their surrounds.
A career, rammed to the gunnels with notoriety, spanning across seven decades and a round dozen albums of which all bar two have graced the top ten of the UK charts. Itâs a safe bet that founding members Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey have much to be rightfully proud of. In any doubt? Then check out their seminal live album âLive At Leedsâ of which we will ravenously gorge upon a considerable percentage of the extended recordings tonight.
Bang on the allotted time opening band The Listening Device walk out on to the vast acreage of the stage, right on some twisted cue so the darkened clouds let fly with a short but incredibly accurate squall. Vocalist, and frontman, Harry âBunterâ Worcester (aka The Duke of Beaufort as mentioned previously) outstretches raised hands in symbolic disbelief. âWelcome to Badminton!â he proclaims before introducing his cohorts and himself.

It’s not every day that googling a rock band takes you to the upper-class online pages of high society magazine âTatlerâ. Itâs herein I discover the identity of the beholder of the seemingly rain-induced bemusement. In fact, itâs not every day one gets to ârock outâ with the landed gentry. From a personal perspective I can safely state that this is a first.
Slightly psych, the gentle atmospherics of opening number âFaded Manâ draws in the early doors crowd and by the time they end their 40 minutes with a searing uptempoâed âEleanor Rigbyâ they have well and truly introduced themselves to one and all. Their prog tendencies are prominent and thereâs sprinklings of Marillion in âLaughter in Her Eyesâ and utter deluge that does its absolute best to dampen the vibe.

âGothic Weddingâ stirs the spirits as a watery sun vainly attempts to break through high above the stage prior to interloper âSeptember Sunâ shining a piercing beam through the darkened ethereal prog-aesthetics of TLD. Worcester the self-proclaimed, with tongue firmly inserted cheekwards, ârock god and talentless golferâ (according to his Twitter account) notes âYou might have been getting the idea that we specialise in the darker end of the spectrum.â Must agree with his observation that this was the track to break that particular mould.

âMagic Potionâ invokes the essence of Pink Floyd and Genesis with an uncanny Bowie-infused edge in the vocals department, a heady brew. Thoroughbred âBeautifulâ rounds off a comprehensive introduction to The Listening Deviceâs most recent album âPath To Redemption before tearing up the form book with their raucous set closer.
The music of this tourâs special guests, UB40 featuring Ali Campbell, reverberated about my teenage years, in fact itâs worth noting that, alongside, Madness UB40 spent the most weeks on the UK singles chart in the 80s, an incredible 214 weeks to be precise! The Badminton gathering are about to be regaled with an hour-long journey from their late 70âs roots and social observations through to 2008 and âTwentyFourSevenâ the last album to feature the distinctive voice of Ali Campbell.
UB40âs contagious ska riffs and melodious reggae beats remain a personal favourite in amongst my strong leanings in the direction of rock and metal. Carefree in their very nature itâs music of a timeless essence. Nominated for the Grammy Award for Best Reggae Album on four occasions the rock-steady lineup that came together in early 1979 and remained intact for nearly three decades. A stunning length of time considering the Midlanders were an eight-piece outfit throughout this period.

Following a somewhat acrimonious split in 2008, citing management issues which were subsequently vindicated, from the band Ali Campbell forged ahead with solo projects before regrouping with fellow classic line-up members Astro and Mickey Virtue to take the music of UB40 forwards. Now minus Virtue and the sadly departed Astro the legacy remains with Campbell at the forefront with an energetically driven octet.
In an hour long set with a nucleus focused upon the first two albums of the âLabour Of Loveâ trilogy weâre treated to two of three UB40 singles that graced the pinnacle of the UK Singles charts. Itâs joyous and unbridled in its kinetics as the vibrancies chase away the threatening clouds to leave the evening mercifully largely rainless.

A quartet of nuggets from âLabour of Love II get the ball rolling with Al Greenâs âHere I Am (Come And Take Me)â the starter for ten. This and the following track âThe Way You Do The Things You Doâ â both top ten Stateside hits yet curiously barely denting the singles charts on this side of the Atlantic â set the tone neatly. Itâs bright and breezy encapsulating all thatâs great about UB40.

Big Frank, Aliâs sidekick, rallies âIâm not being funny, and pardon my French, you gotta make some more fucking noise!â âHomely Girlâ brings the Caribbean to Gloucestershire whilst The Newbeatsâ upbeat essence of âGroovinâ (Out On Life)â manfully keeps the rainclouds at bay, is there a hint of blue above?

Playfully nipping at the crowdâs heels Big Frank turns motivator, bantering throughout and insists, at the chagrin of those lovely security folks in yellow, that the crowd get up, come closer for a boogie. âI you wanna dance do so!â chirpily adding âIgnore the guys in fluorescent, fuck âem!â
With the opening notes of the legendary âCherry Oh Babyâ the overwhelming majority, myself included, more than happily comply. Ali shoulders a red Telecaster â the first appearance of a six-string in the set â and the rest is history.

It most certainly is a beautiful evening for some reggae classics such as the enduring âOne In Tenâ â a top ten smash from 1981 â its hard-hitting lyrics protesting against the Thatcherite government of the time as relevant nowadays as then. âA statistical reminder of a world that doesnât careâ laments Ali.

An acuminous ska riffed rendition of Princeâs âPurple Rainâ sees Ali, Frank and co. taking the very essence of the Labour of Love series, bringing down the house in the process. âStick By Meâ and âIâll Be Thereâ, the latter with delightfully prominent brass, ensure the river keeps flowing as the set builds towards a crescendo.
The ageless and undeniably soulful âMany Rivers To Crossâ raises the hairs on the back of the neck. Jimmy Cliff would, no doubt, wholeheartedly approve of the spinetingling delivery. Spanning a decade, the set-closing trio sandwiches number four smash âKingston Townâ in between a brace of chart-toppers as the Badminton Estate grooves to the chilled-out vibes emanating.

Big Frank punches a familiar line, âPeople try to put us down!â in the intro of the vividly shimmering âRed Red Wineâ, Campbellâs vocals havenât diminished with the passage of time, has it really been 40 years? The closing track âCanât Help Falling In Loveâ is a bonafide crowd pleaser with the sun descends horizonwards. Yes! The sun has made an overdue appearance as Ali and his band soak up the thoroughly deserved love of the crowd. Itâs been a quality packed sixty minutes that has been lapped up by rockers and mods alike. As Big Franks says âYoh youâve been wicked!â
With the mellifluous talents of the Heart of England Philharmonic on board The Who have set sail to the lands they must have longed for when writing their epic rock operas âTommyâ and âQuadropheniaâ. From the powering of the formerâs powering âOvertureâ right through to the latterâs spine chilling âLove, Reign Oâer Meâ itâs insurmountable evidence that these wondrous tracks lend themselves to this expansive vision.
Roger Daltrey, crashing a pair of tambourines together, and Pete Townshend hammering a golden Stratocaster might never have envisaged being titled âvisionariesâ at their offset in the mid-sixties but itâs a most accurate indictment of the two remaining founding members. Weâll, of course, never know how things would have turned out if Keith Moon and John Entwistle had reached this juncture but Iâd like to think that this grandiose scaled adventure would meet their approval.

Getting underway Townshend thanks the crowd for coming out and supporting, along with UB40 for warming the crowd up, âAs you can see, weâre playing with an orchestraâ he comments the master of understatement as ever. Thereâs a touch of southern in â1921â, Simon Townshend faces off his older brother Pete as they flank Daltrey. Itâs a family affair with Simonâs son Josh (guitarist in Welsh rockers Scarlet Rebels) designing the tourâs official poster, in fact the finish-line video of Josh completing his first ever Ironman event is shown on the big-screens earlier.

Daltreyâs vocals are opulent and wide-ranging in tone, statuesque he holds his mic at shoulder height whilst Peteâs guitar howls at the heavens. The thunderous drums of Zak Starkey herald the explosion of âAmazing Journeyâ evoking memories of being at Hyde Park in â96 when he made his first appearance with The Who. Where did 27 years go?

Atop the thundering earthquake of âSparksâ a bluesy fabric is woven with the slick basslines of Jon Button entwining clematis-like. Four tracks in and itâs undeniable that the production is anything other than phenomenal; the strings and wind sections are truly storming. They canter at a fair lick in âThe Acid Queenâ whilst the silver spherical of âPinball Wizardâ careers gloriously wild about the estate. Simon blasts out the acoustic intro with Pete, along with the massed ranks of The Heart of England, building up the atmosphere. The Bally table is torn asunder with the thunder of the gods.

An errant cloud masks the sun, seeking a script busting moment, as the rousing âWeâre Not Gonna Take Itâ completes a romp along âTommyâ Avenue to a rapturous roar of cheers. âAt last, the sun came outâ Daltrey notes before adding, sardonically, âFucking July in England!â Pete offers a sincere shout-out to the orchestra, but their name eludes him (weâre all human after all) âCan I have my piece of paper [to remind me]â he politely requests. âTheyâre getting sharper and strongerâ he adds.

The services of the orchestra are welcomingly retained as one question is asked âWho Are Youâ, an enquiry to which the crowd respond riotously. Itâs stupendously superb, a fully expansive raging beast with Daltrey storming âOh who the fuck are you?â The crowd provide pin sharp âWho ooohsâ aplenty. Right off the smoking mean city streets âEminence Frontâ Pete offers âCome join the partyâ warning as he continues âbut if you join the party you may have to dress to kill!â

The orchestra file off stage for a mid-set break, Itâs humorously noted they share the same union but get differing âconditions. Scaling back to âbeing the little band weâve always have beenâ as Daltrey puts it The Who crash headlong into the pure mod-fuelled rock nâ roll of âThe Kids Are Alrightâ, producing a resounding despatch. Age defying classic âYou Better You Betâ is a kaleidoscopic effulgence.

Pete trades his Stratocaster for a red and white Rickenbacker for âAnyway, Anyhow, Anywhereâ as he and Roger banter between themselves. âTechnically this is South Gloucestershireâ the six-stringer correctively observes before a comedic âmix-upâ with the running order with the frontman hitting an equaliser heralding with the opening line of âSubstituteâ. Marauding bass and cart-wheeling riffs enmesh with impactful vocals as the gears are cranked up through.

Rain threatens but doesnât materialise with âI Canât Explainâ rounding off a seminal triple on non-album singles from the compilation âMeaty Beaty Big and Bouncyâ. âMy Generationâ follows in one almighty explosion prior to morphing into a segment of âCry If You Wantâ.
The stampeding âWonât Get Fooled Againâ trucks along the freeway with those unmistakable keys taking front stage. Daltrey stomps with his mic, hanging close to floor-level, picking up his heavy footedness which adds to a tangible atmosphere. Violinist Katie Jacoby and cellist Audrey Snyder are welcomed back to the boards for stunning rendition of âBehind Blue Eyesâ before their counterparts from the Heart of England rejoin proceedings for an, in the main, âQuadropheniaâ infused finale.

âThe Real Meâ is full blown, striking in its resonance oh Doctor! With Daltrey on harmonica âIâm The Oneâ is spellbinding âI just blend in the crowdâ he emotes. The album these tracks are drawn from is one of my personal favourites and long the memories of witnessing Daltrey, Entwistle, Townshend and a much-lauded cast perform it at Hyde Park will live with me. To now be a voyeur upon their further evolution achieves parity.

â5:15â is ushered in with Starkeyâs clicking of his sticks as Daltrey whirls his mic in large circles. Dusk encroaches as Peteâs red and white Strat wails in melodic drama. Glimmery cymbals and regal keys of âThe Rockâ reverberate as archive footage of world strife and trouble play upon the big screens either side of the stage. Itâs poignant and powerful stuff.

A solitary white beam shines upon the keys for the intro of âLove, Reign Oâer Meâ. Daltrey, fists held aloft firmly clenched, and a blue towel wrapped about his neck unfurls his fingers one by one. Itâs 150% captivating. A fine spray rains down upon the vocalist, his white shirt sodden. Wild vocals echo across the stately lands with a steam hammer band delivery battering down the ramparts. Extended introductions are given by Pete prior to the showstopping âBaba OâRileyâ provides a truly memorable set-ending aspect.
The night skies are clear, the clouds firmly driven away in a no-nonsense fashion, as teenage wastelands are explored. Weâre left wondering, and indeed hoping, that next yearâs 60th anniversary is celebrated. In a summer of goodbyes from the likes of Elton John and Kiss thereâs room for thought. Either way weâve been richly entertained by two of the elder statesmen of British rock in an insurrectionary manner that genuinely belies their years.
Photography by Kelly Spiller for MPM