Dogfest, 2023 at the Gliderdrome in Boston. On paper, it sounds a lot like a low-rent Crufts in one of England’s backwater towns. In truth, it was more like a voyage of discovery and pilgrimage, showcasing some wonderful bands in a venue that has hosted some of the very best. In one of England’s backwater towns.
We (that being me and my oh-so stereotypically named mates, Chris and Dave) were never going to miss this, a gig from Ferocious Dog so close to home. We’re from 40 minutes away, and it’s rare we get bands of any description in our area, let alone the gods that are Ferocious Dog. I found my way to them first, catching them supporting Levellers at Rock City in 2015 or 2016, and from there Dave got involved, and then Chris. We attended Leeds last year and were utterly blown away. Chris and I still rank that as the best gig we’ve ever been to.
The Gliderdrome is quite a venue. Heading there we joked that it felt like we were going to a US sporting event, or a roller disco in the seventies. Oddly, as we got our first Madri at midday, we spotted the roller disco signs around the venue. Coupled with the band names adorning the walls, it was hard not to feel like we were completely right with our assumption, right up to the decade.
Okay, honesty shout – I’d heard of one or two of the bands on the bill, but I was there to see FD. I’ll switch to ‘I’ rather than ‘we’, because Dave gobbles up new music like my own not-so-ferocious shih-tzu gobbles up treats, so I’d be remiss to talk for him, or Chris. However, I’m harder to convince. To get on my playlist you have to be super special – at 44 I’m too old to be spending hours finding new music. My music-listening time is limited, and I need to know it’s going to be well spent. Once upon a time, it was spent listening to The Skints album Part & Parcel, so I was keen to see them, but that was about it. I didn’t know I wanted to see the other bands, I was just there to be grabbed. Basically, here’s 12-hours of my life Dogfest. Impress me.
Plenty of things other than bands impressed me. The Ferocious Dog community is one thing. There’s no ego, no animosity at these gigs. I’ve heard about some bad stuff at other gigs, but I’ve never seen anything other than cool people doing what they do best. Arrogance? Leave it at the door pal. In fact, leave it outside the courtyard car park that doubled as a communal area. Everyone did, and I spent several parts of the day outside talking to people I shall probably never see again about where they’re from and what they’ve done in life. That’s the festival vibe, even if usually there’s more grass, more space and more tents. I doubted if a one-day festival in a town centre next to an abandoned football ground could really capture the festival spirit. It did. 100%.
Festivals are all about the bands for many. They used to be in my youth, you’d scour the line-ups and see where was best to go. This was different, I’d come to see FD, the rest was almost inconsequential. It wasn’t a festival as much as a voyage of discovery, and yet perhaps that’s what a festival is. You discover. I discovered I could drink for 12 hours and not throw up (that’s rare for me). I discovered that even if the only viable food wagon served only sausages, I could still get nourished. I discovered Elton John once played in Boston.
I also discovered two bands who could have been headliners, were our own folk punk Gods not a shoo-in for that role. Ironically, one of them was the opposite of headliner. Black Water County opened the show and set the bar so high that it took me 24 hours to shake off the feeling that two wonderful bands had simply been book ends to a marathon drinking session.
BWC were always going to be a band I loved, but I didn’t know it. I’m a huge Rumjacks fan, and their vibe was very much like that, but with the powerful joint male and female vocals. They’ve got some cracking songs, high-energy but melodic and catchy, and since returning from the gig I’ve bought two CDs and woken up with Skies of Black and Blue as my earworm. Shannon, the lead singer, was deluged at the merch stand, and whilst both Chris and I (combined age of 75) waited for a selfie with her (20-something) we got worried it might seem a bit creepy. We abandoned the fan boy angle and went back to the bands. Another time.
I’m going to mention a couple more, but I’m not saying the ones I don’t talk about weren’t any good. It’s just one or two kicked me hard in the balls and demanded attention. The next to do that was Millie Manders and the Shutup. Now, I had heard a bit of them before, somehow I thought they were supporting in Leeds (not Holy Moly and the Crackers), and I listened to them for a bit before my mistake was pointed out. I couldn’t remember their songs, and yet when they hit the stage, it all came flooding back.
On Spotify, they’re a decent band with some good upbeat rhythm. On stage? They’re like a gut punch from Mike Tyson, followed by him reversing over you in his car (assuming it’s a big one, like a Range Rover). That doesn’t sound pleasant, but Millie Manders and the Shutup are powerful, engaging and absolutely essential listening.
Also, I finally got to fanboy by grabbing (not literally) Millie as she walked past for a selfie, which looks like it was taken on a camera in the seventies. I guess that’s the Gliderdrome effect, right?
There were other bands that impressed. Tony Wright could almost do stand-up as well as tunes, and Mad Dog McRae are a headline act in the waiting, powering through some great Irish-themed tunes. Personally, I began to wane a bit and ended up having three sausages and more beer but paying a little less attention to Three Mad Monkeys and Fudge than I should have. The Leylines, a band Chris and Dave have got into, certainly impressed, whilst Dreadzone were great if you like that sort of thing, but I’m not sure I do.
Sadly, The Skints really disappointed me. I think that 16-year-old kid in me has crushed a little on Marcia for ages, and I was so excited to see what I felt are a top notch band on the bill. Sadly, I wondered if they suspected they’d been booked for Massachusetts and not Lincolnshire, and I got a general vibe of at least one of the band not even wanting to be there. I thought they felt like an odd choice to support Ferocious Dog, they’re laid back, ska-infused reggae which is perfect for a hazy summer afternoon in the sun, but not so much as the culmination of ten hours of high-tempo punk rock, the penultimate act before the best band in the world took the stage.
I’m not being sycophantic here. I genuinely hold Ferocious Dog as my favourite current band. I put an enormous amount of weight behind music that matters, music that says something. I used to love The King Blues, and punk is all about sending a message. I’m much more Stiff Little Fingers than the Undertones, because SLF made music that comes from experience. I like my tunes to have a strong theme and plot and that speaks to me, you, Chris and even Dave. That’s Ferocious Dog.
Now, in the past, I have suffered with anxiety, and one of the manifestations of this is I hate doing things on my own. If I’m stood alone, I feel self-conscious, and you’re as likely to find me leaning against the bar at a gig, hoping all eyes are forward, if I’m not with my mates. We got separated at Dogfest and yet at an FD gig, I never feel alone, judged nor on show. I ended up right of the stage, about 15 rows back, and I enjoyed it as much as if I’d stuck with Dave and Chris in the middle at the front.
With FD, you know what you’re going to get, and if they’d played the Gliderdrome as a headline act with one support, the same number of people would have been there. I’ve seen another review of the day call them a religion and whilst I’m against plagiarism, I can’t help but just nod and go ‘yeah’. Following FD feels like a religion, not one of the self-loathing ones that demand penance for drinking, dancing and merriment, nor one you have to attend every week to be a part of. The FD religion is different, it picks you up when you’re down and it asks nothing (other than you buy a bit of merch).
Here’s my complaint – they didn’t play for long enough. It’s not a criticism of them as a band, nor the day, but when Ken is at the mic, I could listen for two hours, three hours and still not be satisfied. Maybe I was drunk, but there was no ‘1914’, or ‘Broken Soldier’. I love ‘Crime and Punishment’ and have researched Bill Sykes as a result. Hell, due to listening to the Live at Rock City CD, I still ache for Bru-C to come out during Freeborn John and do the rap. Is it a complaint when you say you can never get enough of a band? I’m sure it’s a compliment.
What they did play, they played well. They’re raucous and tight at the same time, they make you think, but also let go. There’s a message, but its not something you have to stand and listen to. Ferocious Dog are the band that a huge portion of UK music fans don’t know they need in their life. I know. Dave knows. Chris knows. We’re hellbent on making sure others do as well.
We came away with ringing ears and new music that we don’t have to work hard to find. Black Water County are playing as I write this. Millie Manders will shout at me all the way through my run later this evening. They’re new to my head, but Ferocious Dog are lodged firmly in my heart, and despite missing their Grimsby gig in June, we’ll be down the front in Lincoln in August, praying to the folk punk religion that is Ferocious Dog. Look forward to seeing fellow converts there.
