Marc’ing Time

Friday 27th May: There was nothing in the way of original music to tempt us out tonight so, given that it was the first time in what seemed like ages that everybody was available, we decided to revert to a covers performance. I realise that sounds a bit denigrating. It’s not meant to. Every so often, at least in my opinion, it’s nice to head out somewhere where you know pretty much all the music, can enjoy a few decent beers and, to be honest, not worry too much about having a chat – after all, being in a busy pub (in this case, the Old White Swan) on a Friday night the performer can’t and, I assume, doesn’t expect everybody to be hanging on his every note.

Tonight’s performer, York ex-pat Marc Atkinson, is a very good singer/songwriter in his own right. He has already released two solo albums – one of his own material and a double CD of covers (one disc acoustic, the other electric) – and is involved in a number of, in my opinion, exciting projects. As well as lead vocals on a number of songs on this year’s forthcoming Mandalaband album, he is getting closer to finishing his own long-awaited Riversea project (of which he was kind enough to give me a copy of some of the work in progress) and is already working on a third solo album.

Tonight, though, it’s down to what he sees as his “day job” – entertaining the punters, getting them to stay a bit longer and, hopefully, spend more money in the pub. In a kind of reverse-karaoke scenario, Marc hands round a comprehensive and, in some cases, unusual list of songs he can perform and asks for requests from the audience, which seems to include a few regulars and fans, including one young, recently betrothed couple who had Marc sing at their wedding. If no requests are forthcoming, he simply picks something himself, varying the set nicely.

The guitar playing is kept relatively simple with few real flourishes, which isn’t an issue as it is Marc’s vocal talents which really cut through the ambient noise and, eventually, the crowd in the small room in which he is playing do seem to be taking more notice. In fact, this is a better behaved pub crowd than I would have expected, at least from previous experience. Maybe it helps that the music is effectively tucked away in a corner of what is quite a large pub, leaving more space for those who don’t want to listen to wander away into (unlike say The Roman Bath). In fact so good-natured was the crowd that, even the addition of some rather drunken Grandad-dancing, from a Dylan loving OAP who walked with a stick but discarded it to dance, only seemed to add to the entertainment (at least for a while…) A very entertaining and, it turned out, very late evening.

For the record, Marc’s set tonight comprised of: Yellow (Coldplay), Human (Killers), Tumble And Fall (Feeder), Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol), Many Of Horror (Biffy Clyro), Iris (The Goo Goo Dolls), Better Be Home Soon (Crowded House), Happy Birthday (the traditional one, not Altered Images, but sung in the voice of Donald Duck), Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Queen), Someone Like You (Adele), Stand By Me (Ben E. King), Stop and Stare (One Republic), Light Up (Snow Patrol), I’m Yours (Jason Mraz), Grenade (Bruno Mars), Angels (Robbie Williams), after which he stopped for a well-deserved break, before starting again with: Walking In Memphis (Mark Cohn), Lying Eyes (The Eagles), Wherever You Will Go (The Calling), Everybody Hurts (R.E.M.), Knocking On Heaven’s Door (Bob Dylan), Summer Of ‘69 (Bryan Adams), Sex On Fire (Kings of Leon), Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen), Heaven (Bryan Adams), Valerie (Amy Winehouse), Still In Love With You (Thin Lizzy), Hotel California (The Eagles), a Beatles/Monkees medley, Have I Told You Lately (Van Morrison), Don’t Stop Believing (Journey), Comfortably Numb (Pink Floyd), Babylon (David Gray), I Don’t Want To Talk About It (Rod Stewart).

Could The Hazzards Be Hazardous To My Health?

Friday 18th July: Have you noticed the increasing use, in TV shows, of starting by showing the viewers what is happening "now" and then showing what led up to now, before showing the resolution?

It's about 01:30 on Saturday morning and I'm sheltering outside a hairdressers shop just at the edge of York's city centre. It's raining so hard that the rain is bouncing back up off the roads and pavements. Lightning lights up the sky at frequent intervals, always followed by ominous rumbles of thunder. To paraphrase Del Amitri, pretty much every car I see is a cab. I'm about four miles from home. I have my bike with me and I'm dressed in jeans, with just a baseball cap to keep the rain off my head...

About thirty-six hours earlier I had felt the usual slight tingle of excitement as Roj's weekly "what's on" email dropped into my in-box. A quick scan brought the first disappointment - with Roj otherwise engaged on Saturday, it was unlikely that anybody would be going to the Roman Bath to see Freeway. Oh well, what's happening on Friday? Hmmm, most of the usual haunts had covers bands on. I'd been out two weeks running so maybe I'd give this week a miss.

A couple of hours later, a check of The Duchess's website reveals that the independent tribunal had ruled in their favour over Barfly's objections to them opening, so all systems are now GO for York's newest venue. Well done, Tim and Michelle. Unfortunately, that doesn't really change anything as nothing was booked for Friday evening. Still looks as though I'm stopping in this week. Anyway, I send an email round the gang advising them of the result.

Arriving at work on Friday morning I find replies to said email from Roj and our seldom-seen Strensall contingent, asking who is interested in a few upcoming gigs at The Duchess. I plump for three - it looks as though I'll be seeing the new venue soon, even if I'm not venturing out this weekend.

Lunchtime and a quick chat with another gig-going colleague reveals that a) he wasn't aware of The Duchess's news (I feel a bit important, having to relay it once again) and b) there is a rumour that Hazzard County are playing the Old White Swan this evening. Hang on, I quite like them (or, at least, versions of them). This could be an opportunity to see another band live after seeing their farewell "tour". The first was Status Quo, in case you are interested. I send another email and the group's plan changes from "Head to Roman Bath to see how good the covers band is" to "Head to Old White Swan to see if the Hazzards are playing, if not head to Roman Bath." You get the picture.

Wanting to take away some of the uncertainty, I decide to ring the White Swan to see if they can tell me who is playing there tonight. They can and do and it is confirmed that the Hazzards are back (despite other listings stating that one of their number is playing a different venue on the same night...) My mind is made up - given that the plan is to see the Hazzards, I'll turn up. After all, I definitely won't be out next week. Probably...

Nine o'clock and I'm the first to arrive at the Swan. The weather didn't look threatening, so I've cycled in. After all, the bus fare is the price of a pint. Speaking of which, the Swan now has a larger choice of real ales. I decide to try a pint of Hazey Days, a pale-coloured, summery, wheat beer. It's very drinkable and I stay with it all night. (The drink not the same pint...)

The Hazzards now play in a different, smaller bar and the crowd was a bit smaller than when they used to play the pub before. It was quite a warm night, so the doors were open, meaning that people wandered in to see what was going on, but they didn't seem to generate the same sized core audience. We were joined by Elena, a Russian (who was a frequent Hazzard-goer in the old location), and her Norwegian friend (over here on holiday with his family). What an international bunch we are.

As to the gig, I'd like to say that it was like finding a favourite old jumper at the bottom of a drawer just as the cold weather starts. I expected to be wrapped in the "comfort" of a band who always played well and were always enjoyable. Unfortunately, that jumper has gone slightly baggy over time and doesn't quite fit anymore. It's not that they were bad. If they were we would have moved on. It's just that this cut-down version (Simon, John and Dave switching between lead guitar, rhythm guitar and (singular) drum and the bass-player (I didn't catch his name) standing in the background), played without some of the toe-tapping, foot-stomping gusto that I was used to. They were good, just not as good as they had been. The set was mostly new stuff to me - rock/country hybrids mainly, with a bit of bluegrass - and it was nice to hear unfamiliar songs. Hopefully, the previous high standards will be back soon.

Anyway, we stayed to the end. Longer, in fact, as we chatted long after the band had finished. As we left the pub, I realised that the non-threatening weather had been a con, lulling me into a false sense of security and that my fare-saving, fitness-inducing bike-ride into town may have been a mistake. I said goodbye to the rest of the group and headed for where I had left my bike...

Now. The rains seems to be easing up a bit. Common sense tells me that waiting for it to stop completely is a waste of time. I decide to take the plunge (almost literally). So I start the twenty-minute journey home. It's still pouring down and very soon my jeans are wet and heavy, my baseball cap and socks are soaked through and my jacket is threatening to start leaking. I arrive home just before two o'clock and shed various bits of wet clothing in the kitchen, leaving them in the sink and on the draining board. Making my way to bed, I wonder whether I'll wake up with the 'flu. If I do, it will be the Hazzard's fault. If they weren't playing I would have stopped at home.

Epilogue - it's seven-thirty on Saturday morning. I have been in bed just five and a half hours when Debbie wakes me up to ask why there is a wet pair of socks and a towel on the bathroom floor...

Emotionless Fibbers, Emotional Swan

Friday 23rd November: Another trip to Fibbers was on the cards (Friday nights out are getting more and more regular, just like these postings.

First on was Ishtar - all the guys except me had seen them before and knew what to expect. For about thirty minutes, the four guitarists and one drummer played either one tune (there's no singing) or, possibly, three tunes which segued into each other perfectly. Apart from the drummer, there is little movement on stage and very little emotion shown. Very good, though.

Second was The Falling Spikes. Competent if uninspiring music but the vocals were fairly dull. The singer was constantly leaning down to reach the mike - either he didn't realise that the stand was adjustable or he was trying for some sort of reverse-Lemmy effect - and had an expression that was halfway between angst-ridden and about-to-burst-into-tears. Of the five songs, three sounded the same and only the last one revived quite a dull set.

Finally, an L.A. band called The Warlocks. I had listened to snippets of their music on myspace during the day and was looking forward to seeing them live. Their profile said they were an octet with two drum kits - how were they going to fit on Fibbers' stage?? From my vantage point, I could see the two drums kits but only five musicians, including the female bass player who, like Ishtar, appeared completely devoid of emotion. For some reason, the sound man had cranked the volume about to about 12, resulting in a bit of early feedback and some quite unnerving bass vibrations. Trouble is that we didn't know whether they were supposed to sound like that. After all, unless the sound man had gone home or was totally deaf, he didn't seem to think there was much wrong. Anyway, while the music sounded like it could have been good, the vocals were totally inaudible. I would like to hear more, though, so may seek out one of their CDs.

After that it was on to the Swan for what could be a duet of farewells. Tom, the landlord, was moving on and the full Hazzard County (except for Chris) were playing what, apparently, had been advertised as their last gig. To celebrate, it appeared that Tom had given the regular staff the night off and that everybody who had ever been a member of the Hazzards (except for Chris) got a stint in front of the mike or playing some sort of instrument. It got to the point where a scorecard was needed to work out who had played what with, at one point towards the end, Tom (the landlord, not the drummer) having a go at the drums. While it looked a bit chaotic at times, it was a cracking performance overall and, due to me getting a lift in, one I was able to see right to the end. There were emotional speeches from Tom and lots of applause when he announced that, if he managed to find another pub in town, he would continue to book live music. We were finally kicked out of the pub after 1 o'clock this morning.

If that was the Hazzard's last gig, it's a damned shame - the more I heard of them, the more I liked them. And, how many other bands have been together, even with changes of line-up, for something like thirteen years. Strangely enough, though, there was no farewell from them.