It’s been a big weekend in the folk-punk world: the release of the latest Ferocious Dog Album, Kleptocracy, and the band’s ‘AGM’, an all-day event at Rock City in Nottingham.
Our gig crew, consisting of Chris, Dave and I (combined age of 125) had hoped to be at Wembley cheering the Imps on in the play-off final, but the moment Portsmouth finished us off a fortnight ago, we bagged our tickets – every cloud and all that.
Rock City has a special place in my heart; it’s where I saw one of my first gigs, Bush, in the mid-nineties and over the years I’ve caught quite a few bands there. I saw Ferocious Dog for the first time supporting the Levellers there, and whilst it’s not quite as intimate as some of the venues we go to, it feels iconic. Perhaps not to those unable to get in yesterday.
There was an issue; three of the support acts played in the smaller, downstairs room. Dan Ottewell, Nick Parker and the Cloverhearts were all on before tea time, in the 300-capacity smaller room. That meant once capacity had been reached, the doors were closed until the main stage opened at 5 pm. The early bird certainly caught the worm, as several hundred fans were left locked out as they tried to see The Cloverhearts, who are supporting FD on their Kleptocracy tour in Lincoln in a fortnight. I get why some people were frustrated at not getting in – had we not been in before 2:15, we’d have missed someone I think will feature massively on my playlist over the coming weeks and months.
One thing I’ve found with gigs is that often, there’s a gem to be found in support acts. All of my favourite bands right now are ones I’ve seen as supports first, and there’s a new name to be added to that list; Nick Parker.
However, before Nick we saw 17-year-old Dan Ottewell, with a Joe Strummer vibe and a big future. For a boy not old enough to drink, he had a lot of confidence and stage presence, and he’s one to keep an eye out for. The Cloverhearts, on after Nick Parker, were a lot of fun, but their set was dogged by sound issues. We didn’t hear the bagpipes (we saw them) and the lead singer’s mic kept dropping out. I’m keen to hear them with the right technical support in Lincoln.
Nick Parker’s set wasn’t dogged by anything, it was utterly mesmerising. I’ve always been a fan of a singer-songwriter, a man (or woman) with an observational eye and a way with words. I guess it’s what I would like to have been. I can observe, I can write, but I’ll be damned if I can get a tune out of a guitar. If I could, I’d like to think my music would be as endearing as Nick’s; I’d like to think I could spot small things that resonate, as he does in The Half of the Moon. I want to think I may even have been able to write an ode to my wife, Fiona, as heartfelt as Terry and June, which even features her name.
Every gig I go to I seem to come away feeling like I’ve unearthed somebody new to listen to. With Nick Parker, a new playlist is now set up and, rather excitingly, we saw his name is down for Gig in a Field at Wroot, which we’re already booked in for. Makes me almost glad Lincoln didn’t get into the play-off final now.
After that, we made a quick dash to the main stage for what I feel should have been the main support, Millie Manders and the Shut Up. I’ve written about them recently, and everything I wrote back then is still applicable. There was only one disappointment with their set – it didn’t go on deep into the night! There’s a raw energy about Millie and the band that I find addictive and compelling. I’m picking up the words to every song like some sort of fanboy, and I even venture off on my own to get soaked in the powerful chords and baselines.
When I write ‘I venture off on my own’, for some, that will be standard gig behaviour. Not me. I am a man who has suffered anxiety issues in the past, and I don’t often like to be separated from the pack. For me to go off into a crowd to watch a gig, to be at the front alone when my favourite songs comes on, takes a lot. In the themes from many of Millie’s songs, I find a comfort, perhaps even a kindred spirit of sorts that makes me feel safe. Having seen them recently at Wroot (and booked again to see them twice more this year) I guess being at the front of their gig does actually feel like being with friends. MMATSU songs accompany me on runs, or when I’m in the gym. They’re normally what blast out on a short drive to the shops, so there’s definitely a feeling of connection whenever they strike up.
Sadly, I ended up behind a man who must have been six foot eight, which did make seeing the gig a challenge, even if I could hear it. It’s not his fault for being tall I guess, but the same happened for The Cloverhearts (albeit behind a slightly shorter man at maybe 6ft 3). I’m not short, but somehow a tall guy always gets in front of me at gigs.
Now, I have a confession to make, and it can be related to another MMATSU song, namely Bacchus. Bacchus was the God of wine, and he had me in his chains, albeit through the medium of vodka, rather than vino. Due to the narrow time frame between the Cloverhearts and MMATSU, I put away a couple of double vodkas to keep me going and it backfired somewhat spectacularly.
The plan was to retire and get something to eat during the As December Falls set. That’s no slur on the Nottingham band who are gaining traction with their emo-punk vibe; they’re just not the sort of thing I listen to. They have a great following and have achieved a lot over the last couple of years, but we figured we’d get out of Rock City, smash a burger, and back for Ferocious Dog. Sadly, the vodka came into play, and whilst I won’t go into details, a pitstop in our Airbnb was required and I didn’t digest any burger. Lesson learned.
That brought us to the main event, Ferocious Dog. The last couple of times we’ve seen them have been after they released The Hope, so the setlist has been familiar, but we didn’t really have time to learn a whole new album in the 24 hours between release and the gig. It didn’t make it harder to enjoy (the aftermath of the vodka did), but I suspect I may enjoy Lincoln a little more in a fortnight once the album has had some airtime around the house.
There are some great tracks on the new album; Blood Soaked Shores and Sus Laws have been out a while and are as catchy as anything the band has put out before. I really like Iron Mike Malloy, a great example of storytelling that feels like the sort of stuff The Pogues might put out if they’d been emerging 30 years later. Merthyr Rising is a sister-song to Pentrich Rising from the last album, telling stories of fights for workers’ rights in Britain over the years. That’s what Ken does well with his pen, guitar and mic; he tells stories others have not. Indeed, before I’d finished listening to the album, I’d Googled both Mike Malloy and the Merthyr Rising. I think that’s partly why he writes what he does.
The set did mix in some classics with the new material, and with the huge back catalogue of tracks they now how, there’s always going to be some I wish they’d played, but didn’t. Of course, they can’t play everything, otherwise we’d be there all night and deep into the morning. Not that the Hellhounds would mind, but Rock City’s organisers might.
As is standard at an FD gig, the Hunt Sabs had a stand, there was a foodbank collection, and a great atmosphere of friendly faces. One of the reasons I like these gigs, not just FD but Millie Manders, Nick Parker, Lonely Tourist, Voodoo Radio, Gaz Brookfield, Black Water County, and any more you care to mention, is they’re not age discriminatory, and I find a lot of pop culture is. You get to 45 (like me), maybe play Absolute Radio 90s in the day, or some punk channel and feel like it’s nostalgia, like it and you belong in the past. It can feel, at times, like there’s nothing there for those of us who remember not having the internet or having to record songs off the radio, like we’re just being cast aside as the pop culture juggernaut focuses it’s sights on the young and the vibrant.
That’s not the case; these bands we love carry the flag first flown by the Levellers, The Clash, Rancid, New Model Army, and any others you care to think of who mattered. This is what those bands might sound like if they came through today, and while they often get drowned in the waves of manufactured pop shite, they’re right there. There’s a scene that might not get radio play or the credit it deserves, but it’s right there if you take the time to find it. It’s a subculture that matters. These bands tell stories, fight for what is right and make me feel like I have a voice in them.
Sadly, that manufactured pop shit does seem to always take over. No sooner had Ken finished with the usual rendition of Nelly the Elephant, than the iconic venue, whose stage has been graced by the great and the good, turns into a nightclub, filled with people young enough to be my son or daughter listening to Brittany Spears, Taylor Swift and (I’m assuming) other rubbish that pollutes the airwaves. It felt like the palace was being defiled as if the festival of folk punk, storytelling and protest was nothing more than a mirage, an impossible oasis in a world that so often feels like it’s made to sell, not to matter.
After the gig we stumbled into the VIP area by accident (and quickly stumbled out) before finding the after party. Remaining there for a few hours, I saw it morph from a few kindred souls into yet another nightclub filled with young people living my past, enjoying the music I once enjoyed as my own, so we hopped it for food, bottles of water and bed before one.
It was another successful gig for the three of us, another enjoyable glimpse at bands that lay within reach of those who care to find them. We’ve got new artists to enjoy, new material from old friends and, of course, a little slice of everything we love. The gigs come thick and fast this summer: FD in June, Lincoln Badlands (Black Water County & MMATSU) and Wroot Rocks (Pet Needs, MMATSU, Beans on Toast, Nick Parker), as well as (possibly) Dogfest. To me, it feels a lot like the summer of 96 – friends, the sun, great music and a carefree attitude. Back then, I was a happy lad with the world at my feet and a head full of big ideas. It’s almost thirty years later and I’m a little older, a little more grey around the edges, but I feel like I’ve got the world in my hands, and a whole host of great ideas to explore, all set to a bloody brilliant soundtrack of similarly-aged and like-minded musical artists.
Hell, I once woke up in a ditch covered in my own sick in 1996, so I guess some things really don’t change.