Just when it begins to look like you've been to your last pop concert and will never go to one ever again, you find yourself going to another one.
This one was organized by my friend, Alan's, daughter for a charity of some importance to the family. To me as well, because Charlotte was a very big mate of mine. I didn't necessarily expect to understand it, being by now old enough to be the grandfather of some of the college musicians performing, and even if I saw the future of rock'n'roll, how would I know.
But I need not have worried. That generation are very au fait with Facebook, Apps, gadgets and all kinds of things I've never heard of but one of the first things I did was explain to some college kids how to make a pool table work. It's amazing, isn't it. That was one of the first things I learnt at University.
And, similarly, a deep knowledge of the long history of pop music wasn't wasted in appreciating what went on. It was really quite traditional. Almost disappointingly- and certainly quite shockingly- several of the artists had haircuts not dissimilar from my dad's in the 1970's, the very last hairstyle one wanted then when, if one couldn't quite look like Marc Bolan or David Cassidy then looking as slovenly and ramshackle as one could would have to do. Well, I've faithfully stuck to those first principles and, now look, pop music is promoted in college (where once it was counter-culture and, where possible, outlawed) and the singers look like accountants. Where did it all go wrong.
None of that matters, of course, if the music is any good and all the acts were impressive. I was glad to witness the first ever public performance of Four Foxes (pictured - well done, lads), shoe-gazing but very competent, who did me the great honour of making me feel as if I wasn't so completely out of place by playing cover versions of two indie hits that I knew- the one about looking good on the dance floor but, most appositely, my big favourite Pumped Up Kicks. Those seem like very recent records to me but to them, they must be old standards. But it was probably their opener, which was probably called Enjoy Yourself, which I hope they wrote themselves, that was best. It came as some surprise quite how many cover versions there were on an evening when I would have thought one's own songwriting was the point of it all and that would be what one would want to do. But maybe they are wise and realize that something familiar that the audience will recognize will keep their attention. Not many care about yet more self expression if the alternative is a good time to be had by all.
The duo, Meerkat Junkies, were endearing, apparently taking something like Ed Sheeran as a reference point. For my generation, it was Dark Side of the Moon, Rumours or Thriller that was the album that most homes in the UK had a copy of. Apparently now, it's Ed, and you need to be any good to sell that many albums. But, of those, Thriller is the only one I have. Nevertheless, I could see what these boys were doing and they did it well. The Simple Truth was the obvious stand out song in their set.I understand it was Jay Price on guitar in the Meerkats (and I do have to say that, after 60 or more years of pop music, there really don't seem to be any good names left to use, all of the band names on the night were awful) but then he turned up as drummer for Lyras Oxford and, I thought, was an even better drummer than he was guitarist. Reggae isn't as easy to play as it sounds and the version here of Valerie was closer to Blondie's idea of reggae than, say, that of the early Wailers but it worked well. It was a great tribute to the tremendous confidence of Jessica Davies (another picture), who organized the show, and her band, they they could step in for an act who failed to show up. The confidence of their generation is to be admired, and possibly the result of sympathetic educational strategies much different to the constant brow-beating, threats and detentions that were used to get us through Latin O level in 1976.
At some point in the proceedings, never wanting a mere pop concert to prevent him from taking the spotlight, Alan had his head shaved for charity. He's not an idiot. I'm sure he already knew how much that will save him on shampoo and gel for the next month or two. (He is an idiot, actually, but only when he wants to be. But that is more often that is sometimes required and is usually when I'm about so it's not his fault.)
Marmalade Moonshine- and, yes, I did say that this generation couldn't think of a band name to save their lives- proved that the spirit of Elvis Presley, rockabilly, and a fine old time will never go out of fashion. A song probably called Watching Me Watching You was one of the best ones in a very competent if not wildly ground-breaking set. I have a note here about a song called Save the Day which was impressive with its R.E.M. riff so I hope it was them that did that.
And, finally, with sadly some of the audience who had come to see their mates in bands that were on earlier having left (a bit rude, I thought, but maybe they had a lecture at 9 o'clock tomorrow), there was Capital Fuzz. I thought at first they were going to re-invent Led Zep II, but then it passed through something like Oasis to a cover version of Come Together.
Now, look, lads, Lennon just did the song, had no need to apologize for the innuendo. If that could be let go in the 1960's, then, really, if in 2015, it is now considered worthy of a schoolboy smirk then we haven't come very far in the last 50 years, have we.
But Capital Fuzz delivered a rousing 500 Miles, had another impressive drummer, and absolutely hats off to a fine show by all the artists, the organizer and a nice venue.
Top marks to all the college kids, it is hardly their fault they weren't born when Family Affair by Sly & the Family Stone was in the charts. And many thanks to the other acts who put on a fine show for a good cause.
How very kind of the Davies family to invite me.The Boys are Back in Town, as you can see.