Grumpy old metaller speaks out...

SCREW the mainstream, it's so bland and formulaic that it doesn't know when it is disappearing up its own back passage...

Why this outburst? For once it is not prompted by alcohol (although that is helping!). Some days ago I clocked an episode of Grumpy Old Men in the graveyard of TV that are Sky Channels repeating shows you missed because they were crap first time around. On it the various - and at times vacuous - referenced the music and style of the 80s.

It was either that or watch the utter tripe of the X-Factor (and as per previous posts I recommend SLF's Guitar and Drum, once dedicated, alliteratively, by Jake Burns to "that c**t Cowell), something worthy on BBC or Scuzz and KerrangTV playing pop punk inane posturing...

And it was an alien decade that I stumbled upon. The "grumpy" types referred first to the many style abberations (of which I do confess to many, not least the white leather trousers....) and then to the music of then 80s.

For them the memories were of Kagagogoo, the Birdie Song, Human League, Duran Duran and Spandau Ballix.

All of these dire discourses on crimes against synthesisers and music made me angry (hence this article!).

For me, and many others who love hard rock, heavy metal and, heaven forfend prog rock, the 80s were a nirvana of pure unadulterated joy.

This was a decade when you could hear Ozzy, Maiden, Motorhead. Marrillion and many others on prime time Thursday night TV, a decade when Judas Priest were on kids' shows and Friday night's The Tube.

This was a decade which started with punk's wonderful snarl (of which Norn Iron's many bands were at the forefront) merged, almost seamlessly into the New Wave of British Heavy Metal - a specious genre which spawned the likes of Metallica.

Maiden, Saxon and Leppard led the way amongst many other unheralded acts like White Spirit, Tank and many others who had their moment in the limelight with a session on Tommy Vance's Fridat Night Rock Show.

This was a decade that saw MSG sell-out the Ulster Hall twice, a decade that saw Metallica and Anthrax cause almost terminal damage to the venerable venue before WASP and Slayer ripped it up. This was a decade when Magnum sold out QUB's SU speakeasy (and yes Kyle, Michael and I may have briefly kidnapped Bob Catley for coffee in the History Common Room...during which I am sure he "borrowed" phrases for the Wings of Heaven album) and the Ulster Hall 14 months later.

This was a decade when metal and hard rock was dominant - a sell-out gig by Whitesnake almost caused a riot in Bedford Street after a rumour of more tickets, but Baal, Sylvia and I were safely inside by then...

This was a decade that saw the release of Master of Puppets, Number of the Beast, Among the Living, Misplaced Childhood, Reign in Blood, Peace Sells, Ace of Spades, Holy Diver, Thunder and Lightning, Slide it In, and even Pyromania (these were the days before Lepps discovered cheesiness stinkier than 10-year-old Gorgonzola).

And what do the numpties and non-entities quote to us? Howard F**kin' Marks and Ricke F**kin' Astley!  What do the advertisers and marketeers toss as ready made 80s references? Oh I can't be arsed referencing their crap. But they should remember that Iron Maiden's Transylvania was once on a Lucozade ad...real energy, not faux power.

In this rant, I should as a responsible (well mostly!) former full-time journo (before I sold my soul to PR) point out that the local hard rock and metal talent is better than ever (congrats to Trucker Diablo on their recent Rotosound endorsement) with literally dozens of acts that could grace global stages, compared to the average Driveshaft, the sadly unsigned Winter's Reign and Norn Iron's own NWOBHM standard bearers, Sweet Savage. (who I must note are still pumping out awesome songs!)

So, what is the purpose of this typed rant (other than personal reminiscences). Simply put, hard rock and heavy metal - even the multi platinum selling acts - exists today, as in the 80s, in the 'underground'. And even there there are graduations of 'being underground'.

Iron Maiden and Metallica can sell out the Odyssey Arena, yet the radio rants about Snooze Patrol. Many, many other rock and metal acts like The Answer sell-out the Ulster Hall, the Mandella Hall and other Belfast venues. The Distortion Projects brings international acts to the Ormeau Road, Ma Nelsons is emerging as a trusty metal venue and Ahoghill's Diamond Rock Club is burgeoning.

This rant (brought to you by 'beer') has two-purposes: an opportunity to show off my age as an advantage over the kiddie metallers, and secondly as a rallying call to the young generations and the sedentary older rockers. I may have illnesses, responsibilities and other sh*t meaning I venture to gigs less frequently than I wish.

What's your excuse?

PS: Congrats to Ball and Sylvia on becoming hard rocking grandparents, and Steve on becoming a da...now bring that child up listening to Satan's sounds :)   \m/

PPS: if you love yer rock and metal make a commitment to see at least one local act each quarter and put aside a couple of quid to buy their CD. \m/

PPS: We even liked Meatloaf then, who one asked his girlfriend for some back door action...she told him she would do anything for love, but she'll not do that. \m/

PPPS...apologies for the excessive parentheses, but sobriety disappeared over the horizon about two hours ago

PPPS - I'm stopping now as I could - and I mean it - rant all night...

You can’t fake greatness

THE thriller writer Christopher Brookmyre* has the protagonist of one his fine novels utter the lines: “Irresistible allure of nostalgia for the aging male who’s pining for lost youth. How the hell else could SLF and The Buzzcocks sell out venues in the late 80s?”

Back then the jaded, backcombed fashionistas would never have forseen the enduring appeal of SLF. The Buzzcocks may still be knocking around, but I neither know nor care – Belfast’s finest seem to be enduring.

Equally Brookmyre’s lines tell the lie that there the audience for SLF will be eternally on the wane as audiences’ age and styles move on.

If you were among the fortunate to be in the sell-out crowd on Saturday night (12th March) you will know that the age of the fans means that Stiff Little Fingers can have no doubt that a new generation of fans is developing and maturing in its taste for Rigid Digit fury.

For them each old tune was greeted as much like a new track, with the same verve as if it had been a hotly tipped track of some young outfit caught on a sampler CD.

For those of us of – ahem – a certain age the old and not-so-old tracks are greeted like old friends, friends to share a drink, a laugh and gale of not so restrained chants.

Even more unexpected was the excellent set from The Defects.

For those who missed out on the late 70s and early 80s Belfast punk scene, The Defects were amongst the motley crew of oiks like Rufrex, Rudi and the Outcasts who were born amid conflict, from the wombs of the Harp Bar, The Pound, The Labour Club and other even less salubrious venues.

For them – like SLF – the authority of the police and the pseudo-authority of bastard paramilitaries was to snubbed, ignored and generally taken the piss out of.

For each three-minute blast of fury on Saturday it was like punk never left – and it never really did. Tunes like Dance (Til You Drop) and Brutality have an elegance that those who slagged off the surface idiocy never understood, nor took the time to see them in context. But by scabs of history were well and truly ripped off to see the bleeding, pulsing sore that created Belfast punk newly exposed to the slightly stale air of the Ulster Hall.

Even more heartwarming was to hear kids chanting along to the words of Brutality who were still in primary school when the RUC became the PSNI, and an abbreviation that produced a less musical chant than the time-honoured “SS RUC”. That did earn the frowns of at least one bouncer who would have been graduating into the big school at around the same time.

If The Defects produced a set to warm up the Ulster Hall Stiff Little Fingers set the temperature dial to inferno: the teasing strains of Go For It coaxed every single soul to readiness before a storming, frantic ‘Roots, Radicals, Rocker’ blistered into action.

It was apparent that the pace was being upped, as each and every song seemed to have a tempo designed to either sweat the crowd into submission, or pack as many tunes as possible into the time span.

‘Just Fade Away’, ‘Tin Soldiers,’, ‘Wasted Life’, ‘Fly the Flag’ were among the tracks given a heart-stopping treatment. But the sheer speed of delivery didn’t diminish the playing, or the crowd’s response.

As alluded to, it was a crowd that spanned generations – from kids barely into their teens (and at least one on the balcony not yet to reach that milestone) to those about to end their fraternising with the 40s as the 50s looms – and it is a testimony to SLF that they can engage such a wide age bracket.

And there was also a sense that the political agenda of Jake Burns lyrical stance has come full circle. A majority of tracks aired where written when Thatcher’s Tories were waging war on the working class. Now the ConDem Coalition Government’s mantra of cuts is slashing working men and women’s wages and prospects, SLF aired a new song about how the bankers are basking in bonuses while public services are slashed and burned out of existence.

SLF will never, by themselves, make a change in the political landscape, but part of the enduring power is that Jake reminds us that there can be a sense of fairness that we can aspire to, there can be an alternative view outside the mainstream zombie inducing media, and there can be independent thinking.

But, as yer man also pointed out, just because ther're "miserable gits", doesn’t mean they can’t have a laugh at themselves – hence a rousing Barbed Wire Love.

And in each track from ‘Suspect Device’ through to lesser known sings such as ‘Harp’ [and by my bleeding wee fingers I love that song!] the mikes on stage were picking up the crowd’s singing. At a vantage point close to the stage right PA system the crowd’s response was a counterpoint, an enhancement, to every chorus, and every chant – all produced without a prompt, or poser’s preening for crowd response. SLF had an audible backing group of 1,000+ and the onstage directional mikes weren't pointed at the audience...

Encores produced one surprise, one not-so-surprise and a lot of sweaty burling about and pogoing.

Jake has always spoken and sang about how Joe Strummer’s influence on him – I paraphrase here, but Rory Gallagher gave Mr Burns a reason to pick up a guitar, and Joe gave him the passion to keep on playing.

Thus, when ‘I Fought The Law’ burst out it was an almost state of ecstasy that swept the crowd. Welcoming Ricky Warwick on to stage we were invited to “Please be upstanding for the National Anthem” and ‘Alternative Ulster’ seemed for some to round off the evening.

But checking out your standard SLF resumé there was the small matter of ‘Johnny Was’ that was an inevitable second encore – and the Ulster Hall was working harmonies along to the pathos of the Bob Marley song.

SLF will never be great in terms of the shallow measures of Pop Idol or X-Factor (Take ‘Guitar and Drum’ and shove it up Cowell’s superannuated arse if you ever meet him!). Nor will mere accountants’ figures of sales or cashflow measure or account for the longevity of SLF; or why street kids, metalheads, hard rockers, ska types, old skinheads, thrashers, and, of course, aging punks turn out to see the ‘Fingers.  For all the banter, all the self-deprecation, SLF are a band that will never be accorded accolades, but will always, always have a measure of greatness that few can aspire to.

And that greatness was bursting through in the Ulster Hall in what in this humble reviewer’s gigs was one of the most electric gigs I have seen SLF play since the tension filled fury of the Go For It tour gig in the same venue. In fact it was much better.

Stiff Little Fingers – the punk band that could play; the rock band with punk sensibilities; the pop punk progenitors; but most of all, Belfast’s finest bar none.

ENDS

PS – I am fuckin’ biased but I don’t care, because there are a lot of us biased towards SLF too!

* - Country of the Blind: Christopher Brrokmyre P121 Abacus 2002 paperback