Review by Gary Spiller for MPM
The Captain is, as ever, in a jovial frame of mind, “It’s a nice posh venue tonight! Better than the shithole around the corner!” he observes before adding, sneeringly “Last time there I went to the toilet and got a face full of flies!” Disregarding further discussion upon lavatorial comparisons with other venues in the city Sensible is absolutely spot on.
It’s just over a year ago, to the day, that the former Colston Hall (to several generations of gig-goers it will remain thus even after the venue’s renaming) reopened following a £130 million plus five-year long refurbishment. It’s a striking transformation that has been achieved and one that succeeds in taking breaths away upon initial entry to the bright, spacious airs of the foyer. It’s genuinely impressive.
Much history had occurred on this site prior to the initial opening of the concert hall in September 1867 – predecessors include such diversities as a Carmelite friary and a sugar refinery with attendant cottages for the workers – following the demolishing of the old school building that Tory MP, and notorious slave trader, Edward Colston had established back in the early 18th century.
From those early classical performances by the likes of Bristol Symphony Orchestra and Russian virtuoso Sergei Rachmaninoff the venue gained popularity, in the 1960s, as a rock venue. From Oldfield to Osbourne the list of rock n’ roll greats that have played here is a lengthy one. The Stones and Beatles played here in the mid-sixties whilst perennial tourers Status Quo have notched up over twenty shows.
Even Sensible is swept along with the current of rocking history pulsing through this building. “Did we play here with T. Rex?” he ponders before furthering, possibly seeking assurance, “We did the last T. Rex tour.” The Captain’s grey matter certainly doesn’t fail him, his recollections are spot on. The unlikely alliance of the resurgent glam rockers and the nascent punks happened in spring ’77 with the tour barrelling into Bristol on Monday 14th March.
Sadly, Marc Bolan lost his life in a car crash a few months later and T. Rex wouldn’t tour again; The Damned however were on the beginning of a rather lengthy wave. One that’s seen them gig pretty much every year since. 2024 will go down as the first time David Vanian, Captain Sensible, Paul Gray and Rat Scabies have played live together in well over 30 years.
Welcoming back the incomparable force de majeure of their co-founding drummer appears to have been a masterstroke given the massed ranks milling about in the concourse and supping pints down the road in the historic Hatchet. Legends of the presence of an 18th century rat pit and a door featuring human skin might well be tall but seem to fit in well with the evening’s essence.
Opening this evening’s shenanigans are garage rockers The Fleshtones. Stampeding in from their base in Queens these New Yorkers are in a boisterous mood catching the attention of the early doors crowd. Coming on just twenty minutes after the opening time to a venue still very much filling up might trip up those unprepared. However, The Fleshtones are a seasoned bunch, having debuted at the legendary CBGB’s in 1976, and take it all in their more than capable stride.
With a rapid-fire “1-2-3-4”, unannounced, the quartet burst and tumble on to the spacious stage environs. Even with three band’s kit fully assembled the Beacon’s boards offer much room, if an orchestra can fit up there I guess tonight’s gear doesn’t present too much of challenge space wise. The Stooges infused ‘Violet Crumble, Cherry Ripe’, the first of several curiously titled tracks this evening, with its hard-driving aspects kicks off matters in an ear-catching manner.
Like the evening’s headliners our maître d’s The Fleshtones set down a marker for short, sharp rock n’ rolling cramming in an incredible dozen numbers into their set that clocks in at just over half an hour. We are ushered to our chosen positions by the veritable head-nodder ‘New Song’ which is in fact a catchy oldish track from 2001’s ‘Solid Gold Sound’ album.
With an infectious cut between The Ramones and Dr. Feelgood it’s only a matter of time before Bristol are fully onboard. A punky surfing essence flows through ‘Going Back to School Good’. Sharp-dressed dry-witted vocalist Peter Zaremba is a compelling meld of Basil Fawlty and Bryan Ferry whilst, to his left, equally nattily attired guitarist Keith Streng frivolously bounces and high-kicks about.
Streng takes the lead vocals for the playful ‘You Gotta Love, Love’ that nods towards The Adverts before ‘Way of the World’, a Ramonesy rock n’ roller that brings in a slice of The Buzzcocks, sees bassist Bill Milhizer take over that role.
With their appreciation of the 50s and 60s it’s a safe bet that Quinten Tarantino would have gotten all shook up with the werewolf loving of ‘You Say You Don’t Mind It’ and the punk posturing, and ‘Telstar’ fringes, of ‘The Hearse’. The latter a fiendish cover of the Astronauts’ surf classic.
Influences shine brightly, covering Bonnie St. Clair’s ‘I Surrender’ and reminiscing with the corking ‘Remember The Ramones’ there’s no doubting where this outfit’s roots lie. We, in amongst the raw energy, all receive a one-way ticket to ‘Hitsburg USA’ before a rollicking mash-up of ‘My Kinda Loving’ and ‘Soul Shake’ bring about a climatic ending to a hi-paced set.
Pantomime seasons starts right here with Doctor and The Medics! It’s official as the good Doctor says so. “Yes, it’s behind me if you’re thinking about my career!” he wryly quips with as much aplomb as fellow Knotty Ash legend Ken Dodd in his prime. Dodd was already in his mid-thirties when The Doctor – aka Clive Jackson – became of this earth some 60 odd years ago. He makes light of his age, pointing to his right at co-vocalist Melissa Weekes, “I’m 63 for fuck’s sake! Mel gets carer’s allowance for this!”
Evergreen festival favourites, for so long written off as a novelty one hit wonder, Doctor and The Medics are so, so much more than that one hit. A glorious international number one hit but have a root about in the locker and one discovers such luminaries as ‘The Miracle of the Age’. Check out the Old Grey Whistle Test broadcast on YouTube from their 1985 gig across the city at the Bierkeller when, reportedly, nearly 2,000 people were turned away.
Consistently anarchic, like The Young Ones on some psychedelic enhancements, and bucking trends the band assembles to a cavernous, booming intro rolling into the opening strains of ‘Perfect World’. Dunked somewhere between the realms of The Rocky Horror Show and The B52s we’re regaled by the exuberantly garbed Doctor and his musical therapeuticals.
The wondrously entitled, continuing an unintended theme, ‘Love Peace and Bananas’ is dedicated to all who had seen the band tour with The Damned in 1985 – interestingly a tour with dates either side of a Medics’ appearance at the Glastonbury Festival. Quite what the connection between all three elements of the title are I haven’t the foggiest, but its bright tempo psych rocking engages well.
The tubthumping ‘Forever and Ever’ with its grandiose tones harks a touch of Sisters of Mercy and The Mission. Much despised politician’s Margaret Thatcher’s name is roundly and sounded booed as brash rocker ‘No One Loves You When You Got No Shoes’ is introduced. “It’s about the haves and have nots, it’s even more relevant now” deplores the Doctor.
The slinky affluence of ‘Terrified’ pushes to the edge before the virtues of knee operations have resulted in an age-reversing dynamic for the Doctor. “With two new knees, false teeth and hearing aids I’ve not yet reached puberty!” he mockingly decries. ‘Fried Egg Bad Monday’ is heartfeltly dedicated to the staff of the NHS with a touch of funkiness and meandering Doorsness it keeps the party going nicely. ‘The Molecatcher’s Boot’ revels in an underworldly glory before we reach the crescendo of the set.
Say what you want about cover versions when one is done so well as ‘Spirit In The Sky’ you can’t help but get swept along in the mayhem. The distinctive intro receives a deafening cheer, and the track sends shivers spinewards even all those years after its 1986 release. “Are you ready to sing one last time with the Doctor?” The Beacon responds heartily, and I feel a little more festive. A 40-minute set has more than ably demonstrated that this is a band that you write off at your peril, new material in the offing there’s a good few more miles left in the collective tank.
Billed as revisiting their albums and singles from the early 80s headliners The Damned are true to their grimly word; no lies convince the court after all. With Scabies firmly ensconced in the seat behind the kit The Damned are well placed with Vanian, Sensible, Gray, and zany keyboardist Monty Oxymoron to explore these hallowed tomes.
Following a resounding Tarantino-esque r n’ r intro the five detonative components that comprise The Damned discharge to the fullest effect rampaging into, with minimal fanfare, ‘Love Song’. Scabies battering the life out of the drums and Gray laying down those oh so familiar and engaging bass lines. “I’ll be the ticket if you’re my collector” snarls Vanian; Sensible marauds and Oxymoron shimmers.
Two and a half minutes of pure punk fury, The Damned have well and truly arrived. Rolling headlong, as per the album tracking on ‘Machine Gun Etiquette’, into spitting out the album’s title track. The front rows jostle and pogo, suddenly it’s 1979 once again, Sensible soars and Vanian swoops.
There’s no relenting in the pace (none is expected), following the double from ‘Machine Gun Etiquette’ we’re launched, as The Damned go one better, into a cataclysmic treble from 1980’s ‘The Black Album’. A ferocious pounding ‘Lively Arts’ is bracketed with, in a blaze of lights, the punk salvo of ‘Wait For The Blackout’ and the effulgent sunburst of ‘The History of the World (Part 1)’ afore which Sensible is serenaded with the time honoured “Captain is a wanker” crowd chant. Punk’s very own combo of Dennis The Menace and Where’s Wally genially faux mocks the throng “I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” before confessing to ‘Talking’ being a pile of shit.
Conflagrant ‘Plan 9 Channel 7’ keeps us at the turn of the decades, Sensible goes a slice of fuzzed bluesy in his solo. The Beacon erupts into a showing of feelings for the drummer, “We love you Scabies we do” breaks out before the raucous beginnings of ‘Stranger on the Town’. Vanian marks time in the stage left shadows before Gray’s resonant bass notes signal the moment of rejoining. Well into their collective stride The Damned are giving Bristol the short, sharp treatment on the highest level possible.
Retorting to the continuing chants about his masturbating habits the Captain scolds “Let ye who have no sin throw the first stone, what you do in your own privacy is your own concern.” It’s full-on punk pantomime with Vanian quipping “The things you learn!” as the duo enjoy sharing the moment with their crowd.
We dive into ‘Strawberries’ for a second consecutive track with a blistering ‘Gun Fury (of Riot Forces)’. An effervescent congregation, bouncing along, are led, most willingly, through the resounding anthem that is ‘I Just Can’t Be Happy Today’. All is happy in this corner of Bristol.
The slow burning gothic charms of ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’ give cause to the assertion that The Damned are far from a singular trick equine before the political comment of ‘Beware of the Clown’ breaks ranks from the twixtness of the late 70s and early 80s. Speaking of the marauder off last year’s ‘Darkadelic’ success the Captain notes “When one clown leaves, the next one emerges from the wings.” Sadly, this is so very true else it would be comical I feel.
Non-album single smash ‘Eloise’ is reworked and heavied up a touch it would seem and to good effect. The coruscant light shimmers gleefully with the enigmatic delivery possessing a rumbustious kinetic. The Beacon lap it up ravenously. Vanian passes the vocal baton over to Sensible for evocative ‘Life Goes On’ returning for frontline duties for the modern-day classic ‘The Invisible Man’.
‘Ignite’ obeys the description upon the tin’s outer packaging with good natured moshing well and truly underway. That signature bassline courtesy of Gray leading into those trademark buzzsawing riffs despatched by Sensible. The Beacon erupts with the expeditious artillery despatch that concludes the main set in a glorious turbulent, unruly crescendo.
The ‘cirque du punk’ of ‘Curtain Call’, a beautiful demonstration of the band’s softer side, gets the encore underway after a couple minutes of breath-gathering. Scabies’ well-received drum solo tumbles seamlessly into the utter punk canticle ‘New Rose’. The Beacon haven’t had their fill quite yet and The Damned aren’t quite done yet thus a second encore ensues.
As with the first encore so Scabies appears first and rightfully ‘milks’ the crowd’s appreciations before the mayhemic piledriving of an oddly festive ‘There Ain’t No Sanity Clause’ well and truly pulverises the seasonal nuts. After an hour and a half of top dollar entertainment there’s just one remaining way of bringing the curtain down on the night.
The two-parted ‘Smash It Up’ escalates higher and higher through the instrumental part one – dedicated, as ever, to the memory of Marc Bolan – before exploding into the second segment with the final eruption from the band’s most regal of volcanoes. When you leave a gig with a headful of music you know it’s been a good night, I’m going to be playing these earworms for a good while to come!
Photography by Kelly Spiller for MPM
