Or Why We Do this? a question that concerns me. I bought a ticket to see Brighton Indie Rockers Holiday Ghosts midweek last week on returning to Newcastle after a short stay with my beloved 88 year old parents in Canterbury.
By Friday, I was in two minds. I'm 57, haven't looked after myself as well as I might have done over the years,(although I'm making more of an effort recently), and was feeling a bit creaky. I was also going to the gig on my own, we all prefer a bit of company for these things I'm sure. Anyway, after a pint of alcohol free at my local, I made my way towards the Ouseburn Valley alongside Newcastle Quayside.
But I thought I'd stop for a little further alcohol free nutrition, (I'm coming to the end of a month of abstinence) at The Free Trade. The Free Trade is one of the finest pubs in Newcastle, a city that is blessed with wonderful pubs. Perched on the top of a hill on the Quayside it gives a fine view of one of the finest riverside vistas on earth, that of the River Tyne and the Newcastle's bridges. Trust me, if you haven't seen it, you need to one day.
When I arrived at The Free Trade, Billy was sat at the bar, as I hoped he might be. Billy is one of the nicest people I know. I met him at The Record Player event which had meant so much to me just after I arrived in Newcastle. Hosted by local man about town Steve Drayton, at The Tyneside Cinema, it involved listening through to a vinyl record in its entirety with an accompanying slideshow and then enjoying quizzes and other shenanigans with likeminded souls. It did much to reinvigorate my own love of vinyl and the creation of this blog having been deprived of the company of my record collection for many years before I bought my flat here.
The Record Player had been the source of enormous pleasure and joy for me over several years and I still miss it and the people I got to know through it. But I know that Billy and several of the others hang out at The Free Trade, so I sometimes head there in the hope of catching them.
Billy's an artist, in the true sense of the word, not the piss artist sense, although he enjoys a pint, as I habitually do myself. He was sampling a small snifter before returning for a quiet Friday evening with his partner Steph.. We talked about his art. He turns out great drawings of local sights which he sketches on his walks around town with accompanying text. He's always been good but he's getting better, we both agreed.
Being a good fellow Billy walked me to The Cumberland Arms where the Holiday Ghosts were playing and we had another pint. He made his way home and I made mine upstairs to the room above the bar where they hold their gigs. It's a great space. I've seen Vic Godard and his band on a couple of occasions, The Nightingales, The Blue Orchids, Trembling Bells, and most miraculously one time Thurston Moore.
As is customary at these events. Holiday Ghosts had a stall out with wares such as albums, CDs and in this case, oddly tea towels. I chatted to their singer Sam. I felt slightly embarrassed to even ask, but wanted to know how they got by doing this. He wasn't bothered.
It must be difficult for a band like them, good as they are, to get by in these trying times. They don't play the major stages at festivals like Glastonbury, or get the attention that they probably deserve from the music monthlies. Instead they're reliant on their fanbase and the ongoing support on the more discerning 6 Music DJs like Marc Riley and Gideon Coe, themselves at threat of being sidelined by radio bosses utterly unaware and unappreciative of their value to their constituency and thirsting after the Young Dollar, ignorant that Radio One already provides for that.
It was nice to talk to Sam and bassist Morgan before they played and enjoy the fine support from Ubiquitous Meh and Mount Misery. These are the kind of evenings I enjoy most really, but I was tired and most of all preoccupied by the rats in my parents loft that are currently making my poor mothers life agony.
All that anxiety was washed away the moment the band started to play and I was delighted to have all my hopes and expectations, built from years of enjoying their records met and surpassed.. They were a fine little Rock & Roll band. I imagine all they've ever wanted to be.
But that is certainly what they are. Having started off with a slightly more ramshackle sound when they kicked off in Falmouth as early Rock. Johnny Kidd & the Pirates, Bo Diddley, Beatles even, they've honed their sound and approach since moving to Brighton and changing their line up and working with other musicians. I'd say they've arrived at the perfect set up now. Like Brighton & Hove football club, they're ready to make their push for Europe.
Mostly they're Modern Lovers meet Velvet Underground Live '69, pretty much the definitive indie approach as far as I'm concerned. But all four players contribute in songwriting terms these days and guitarist B.Spanks provides a New Wave Cockney lairyness which perfectly compliments their New York and West Country cool. Frankly I thought they were fantastic. The way they held themselves, the banter between songs, their tightness, though it may sound a contradiction in terms, their looseness when required, the fact that their joint leader Katja Rackin is also a drummer and mounts her drumkit as close to the front of the stage as she can. It was just a great night.
In answer to the question I asked at the beginning of this long piece, why do we do this, it's for moments like these. For walks by the Quayside in light rain, for pints with people like Billy, for evenings with bands with Holiday Ghosts. I look forward to hearing their album, which will hit mats on Friday morning. It's why I keep writing this blog after almost ten years, it helps take my mind off rats scooting up drainpipes in Canterbury and making my poor mother's life a misery. Check out The Holiday Ghosts. They might help take your mind off whatever's worrying you. That I imagine is why they do what they do.
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