First Gig

I remember my first gig. I was 15 and my dad took me to see Billy Bragg. Not a bad starter for ten.

So who would be the first for my beautiful daughters? My two daughters who love music, are learning instruments and never stop singing.

They had the very first taster of live music a few months ago when they watched our brilliant talented friend with his band  - Cold Norton. After a weekend with him my eldest wanted nothing more in life than to be a guitarist/singer songwriter and builder. Which would be a very useful combination. It must be quite something to be inspirational.

But who to choose for the first big gig? I wanted someone else who might inspire them. A female sing songwriter with serious talent. Someone who wouldn't require P to wear her fetching green ear defenders throughout.

So, as a Christmas treat, I took them to see Kate Rusby, an artist we all love. They squealed when I told them, like I imagine Justin Bieber fans might. Seems we are doing something right.

It was a late school night, they were tired and they still enjoyed every second. It was fascinating to hear what they thought. My eldest plays guitar and marvelled at the band not needing any music to play their instruments - she was agog from the start. My youngest's first comment was "Mummy she's so pretty".

From the moment she started to sing they smiled, I occasionally looked at the kids soppily and we all joined in with vigour (possibly at points a bit too much vigour judging from the looks from the man behind us).

T now wants to carry on writing songs, and to take up the trumpet. "Do you think when I'm older I could play guitar with her?"

Neither of them will stop singing "Bill Brave Bill" at the tops of their voices and I haven't stopped playing the album in the kitchen.

Did I choose well?

As she closed her eyes after the long tiring night T said "Mum, that was amazing".

So I guess I did.

Divine Comedy

Sometimes you wonder whether a band you always loved will still be as good when you see them 20 years later.

Sometimes you shouldn't have worried.

Blissful voice, brilliant lyrics, bonkers costume changes, bizarre instruments, beautiful music. Plus extremely funny, but I can't think of word that means funny that begins with b.

The Divine Comedy were just wonderful on Saturday. Best gig in ages. Tragically I didn't get a photo of the admiral outfit.

Blimey the Foundry was hot though. Plus, I would like to see an enforced hat removal for audience members though because there was a point where a titfer made viewing a little tricky. Not Neil though, he can leave his hat on.

Later Without Jools Holland

Is is true to say that I was a touch disappointed when I couldn't encourage any of my friends to come out with me. I tried not to take it personally and took my husband instead. Who thankfully did not take my not having invited him in the first place personally...

It turns out I am becoming a real fan of the Sheffield band scene. By that I mean I now know the sum total of seven Sheffield bands (two of which include people I know), but you have to start somewhere.

I am specifically a fan of David Roch whose voice is somewhat phenomenal, and through the power of him and social media I found out about "Later Without Jools Holland". It was a night set up by Low Duo as an opportunity to showcase four local bands (including David and themselves) at the Greystones.

Greystones is a pub I love because:
a) they put a range of bands on at reasonable prices (I've seen both Mark Radcliffe and Atilla the Stockbroker there and have the Rory McLeod gig in my sights too) and
b) they sell excellent beer.

The four acts, Low Duo, David Roch, Pete David and See Emily Play were an eclectic, sometimes maudlin, sometimes crackers, passionate and (in the case of Low Duo) zany line up. We couldn't help but warm to all of them, partly because they were so damn musically talented but also for their genuine infectious enthusiasm for what they do. Paul spent most of the evening watching the guitarists somewhat in awe (Pete David in particular) and the genuine comic talent of Low Duo's lead singer has to be noted as an unexpected touch of genius. Not bad for the princely sum of £3. Well and all the beer we bought.

And you know what? I rather enjoyed my husband's company. Turns out he's really nice so I've invited him to come to see Navacross with me on Thursday at Maggie May's.

Tramlines

I must admit I was worried about Tramlines a little. Worried that I was, frankly, too old.

The key indicator was that I hadn't heard of anyone on the list (apart from Selector, who are, well, from a long time ago). As for everyone else my knowledge of the bands was linked to band members I knew. Two dads from school and my boss, specifically. Which pretty much has an air of middle aged about it right there.

But I am nothing if not determined. You simply cannot have a music festival on your doorstep and not go to it. It would be like ignoring a cream cake for three days and eating celery.

So my friend and I took full advantage and set off at five on Saturday afternoon. This has a host of benefits, the best one being that we totally avoided making tea and putting the kids to bed.

We did what we normally do and wondered down division street feeling a) old and b) too sober for it all and decided, as usual, not to bother queuing for the main stage. We did buy a wristband though because we wanted to head to Plug later.

This is where our middled aged experience come into play. Vast local knowledge meant we could come back the long way round to find a cash point that had no queue and didn't charge us £1.85 for taking out our own money. We knew what fast food to go for (Street Food Chef of course) and plonked ourselves on the peace garden grass to eat burritos, listen to reggae and read the programme. I've always been a planner and it's only in later years that I realise just how much of an asset this can be (you have to love your personal quirks you know). My spontaneity left me years ago.

So we looked through the programme, reinforced the fact that we didn't know who anyone was*, and picked some random stuff that included people we knew and a variety of venues. We are nothing if not eclectic.

We started at the Cathedral and watched Nat Johnson (lovely) drinking wine, wondering if you can have communion real ale and watching a man repeatedly touch his girlfriend's bum. I don't think he would have done that in any other venue - I think he liked the buzz of sin in the house of the Lord.

Briefly we stopped at the Library Theatre and this is the point where I stopped really remembering the names of bands reliably. It's a good job this isn't a review.

After that it was the back of Henrys to watch The Clench (fab), and then the Leadmill to wholly enjoy a band who were amazing but who cannot pronounce their own name over a microphone clearly enough for marketing purposes (the staff had no idea who they were either). Then we watched some of the Ratells who were raucous and talented, but not my cup of tea really (and someone threw a drink on my badly chosen footwear).

Finally we ended up in Plug watching Steve Papa Edwards and the Big Strong Love, who we've seen before (and has someone I know in the band). They were marvellous and deserved a way bigger crowd.

We even managed to bag a taxi home with no difficulty whatsoever. All in all a remarkable, if middled aged, Tramlines experience. Which got even more middled aged the next day when as a family we went to Folk Forest at Endcliffe Park. But middle age has to be seen as a positive if it means you end up listening to folk music, helping your child make a bow and arrow, watching a blacksmith, talking to talented crafty type friends and eating ice cream.

I guess the thing that makes Tramlines such a joy is that everyone has such a different experience. Mine was a middle aged one. Had it been on ten years ago it would have been, well, a slightly younger middle aged one. In years to come I might just sit in Endcliffe Park drinking cider and wondering what band I've never heard of the girls are watching in town.

All in all we took in bands playing indie, rock (regular and cowboy no less), folk, soul and funk. And maybe other categories if I had a clue about modern music  - I could have been enjoying grime for all I know. So next year? Why not.


*I am exaggerating for effect of course, I have also heard of (and love) the Crookes. And David Roch. Yep that's it.

Pretty Special - See what I did there?

Last night I skanked a bit. It's not something I've done for a good few years. I don't honestly think I have danced so much at a gig in my life as I did at The Specials yesterday. Such great music and a fantastic atmosphere. So why do I feel a bit frustrated?

It's down to the fact that I like my gigs to have something personal about them. When they don't I get the overwhelming feeling of being a bit let down. Surely bands do it all for the love and enjoy every second?

Ok I know. I suppose they would be a fool not to tour when they sell out venues and receive the reaction they got last night. Gift horses and all that.

Anyway I like a bit of banter. Terry Hall didn't exactly say much apart from "Sheffield, Sheffield" (which could just as well have been "Milton Keynes, Milton Keynes"). Throw in a reference to the state of both football teams and have a dig at Leeds and you have the crowd on your side. Very lazy if you ask me. I mind this more than I minded getting splashed in the face in the first ten seconds by a jettisoned drink (that's what I'm telling myself it was).

But obviously you couldn't call the rest of the gig lazy. The music was incredible. And the additional great thing about the Specials is that loads of the lyrics are simple. Which means you can look as if you've known the words all your life and sing along enthusiastically after only hearing one chorus.

I also loved the crowd. It was like a scene from 'This is England'. I did have to chuckle though when everyone started bouncing up and down like a maniac after the first couple of notes of the classics, like "Message to you Rudy", but couldn't keep up the level of fitness for the full three minutes. The bouncing ended up reduced to a low level shuffle. That's what comes with being middle aged. All of the enthusiasm for reminiscing and none of the fitness required for a Ska gig.

So in the words of The Specials "Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think." Just have a nice sit down and a cup of tea afterwards to recover.

Middle Aged Gig Goer

We went to see Johnny Marr last night. He was great and played new stuff along with loads of classic Smiths and Electronica tracks - fantastic. I do feel a little devilish though so here goes with my middle aged rant about gigs:

1. If you wish to pogo please go down to the first third of the crowd. Thank you.

2. If you are over six foot four please stand somewhere else other than in front of me. Also don't make it even worse by sporting a quiff. You don't need extra height.

3. It's not just tall people. If you have a massive head (width wise) you can move out of the way too. If you aren't sure whether you fit into this category just ask and I'll give you feedback.

4. As if tall and wide heads weren't tricky enough please do not add to my visibility issues by waving your arms in the air or jabbing you fingers in the direction of the band. It's annoying.

5. While we are at it, please leave your phone in your pocket. It's bad enough that I struggle to see past you, without you rubbing it in further by showing me a miniature version of what I'm missing.

6. To the man with a wide head in front of me: I don't believe that "Ryan Home" will have particularly enjoyed you calling him to play him a distorted version of "Getting Away with It" by the Pet Shop Boys. I appreciate Johnny Marr remixed it, but if you absolutely must choose a song to ring during, "Big Mouth Strikes Again" would have been a better choice...Actually no, ringing someone during a gig is stupid. I know I probably did it in my youth but I'm 37 now and I know better than you.

7. And finally an apology. I apologise if I stepped on your foot. You were all very gracious, especially my middle aged friends and the infant school teachers who happened to be there too.

For the youngsters that did tut please be advised that women who have had children cannot drink pints and go through a whole gig without needing the loo. If you attend the gig of a man who was most successful in the 1980s you can expect a large proportion of the audience to fit into this category. Me pushing past you to get to the toilet and treading on you, during one of his less exciting songs, is far better than the alternative. Believe me.

It was good though...