Week 5 – Wednesday 2nd February – The Thekla, Bristol – The Joy Formidable - £10
“Four hours sleep is more than enough. Look at Christian Bale in the Machinist. He never complained. . .”
As it approached midnight, Sandro tried to lift my mood, but he failed miserably. But more on that later. . .
They said we didn’t have the discipline. They said we lacked the stamina. They even questioned our haircuts. Can you hear them now?
No, because they don’t exist.
Our first gig in February and our fifth of the year so far, saw us cross the Severn Bridge once more to visit the Amsterdam of the West Country. This week’s venue was the unique Thekla (or The Thekla for those not too lazy to drop the The), a ship moored in the exotic Bristol Harbour. It may prove to be the only venue we visit this year not based on dry land, although I’m still hoping for a mid-flight performance by Billy Idol on a Jumbo Jet at some point.
On this occasion, the entertainment was to be provided by The Joy Formidable, a Welsh band who’ve been making waves recently (I couldn’t resist), having just released their debut album The Big Roar to much critical acclaim, following a couple of years of extensive touring, and much hype on the Interweb. Most of this hype is based on their impressive live performances, but also on the taster provided by 2009’s mini-album A Balloon Called Moaning. Once again, Sandro and I were joined by P. Mushy, who’d decided to desist from Schreifels-stalking for one night only.
Before setting off we took in a pre-gig drink at Gigaweek’s favourite pub, where I earned myself a free pint by successfully guessing The North Star’s Film quote of the day; ‘You’re gonna get it Bobby!’.
The answer was Happy Gilmore by the way. If you can make it to The North Star by closing time on Wednesday 2nd February 2011 you can get a free pint too.
On the train we discussed the upcoming six nations, in particular the clash between Wales and England. As optimistic Welshmen, P. Mushy and Sandro predicted narrow Welsh wins, while I’m not ashamed to say, I was more realistic.
“I’ve a funny feeling England will win 26-19. Perhaps with a brace of Chris Ashton tries, and hmmm, maybe a Morgan Stoddart try in reply for Wales. The roof will be . . . Closed. . . ” I speculated wisely.
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Once in Bristol, we made the short walk from Temple Meads station to the Harbour. As it was still early in the evening, we strolled past the Thekla and went further along the harbour, stopping instead for our post-pre-gig-pint-but-still-pre-gig pint at a strange and mystical place called The Watershed. Claiming to be a media centre, which could mean anything, it doubles as a cinema, and triples as a bar/café, and quadruples as a building.
Sandro and I had become aware of The Watershed after the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club gig we’d been to in Bristol in December last year, when a mysterious man known only as Portuguese Tony, led us here on the promise of skittles and wine gums. On that occasion my ability to operate doors came in to question. It wasn’t a case of pushing a Pull door or pulling a Push door, I’m more advanced than that, in this instance the door in question required a poorly labelled button to be pressed. As I said at the time, Open could mean anything.
Thankfully there were no such issues today. I’d done my homework, so I breezed through the manual Pull door on our way out, to the obvious admiration of those who were there to witness such skilled door work. P. Mushy tried in vain to flog his spare ticket (I told him his asking price of £53 and a rasberry Cornetto was a bit steep), and we climbed aboard The Thekla.
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I’d made two previous visits to Thekla, both in the company of Sandro and P. Mushy. My first trip had been to see Jamie T literally rock the boat, at a gig which was particularly notable for us meeting Mat ‘Gavlar’ Horne. He showered me and Sandro with praise in respect of our hair styles, without a hint of irony (though he is an actor). Flattered, I responded by questioning his age.
“I’ve always wondered. You’ve just got one of those faces, it’s impossible to tell if you’re really, really, old, or still youngish, or just a little bit old . . .”
He was clearly not offended at all, and was in fact hugely impressed by my thoughtfulness and insight.
“I’m 23,” he lied.
“Yeah, I thought you’d be about that,” I also lied. “But I still wouldn’t mind checking your passport to be sure. No? Driving license? Oh, okay. . .” Wikipedia it is, I thought. Turns out he’s 41.
On top of this momentous discussion, that particular night was also noteworthy for Sandro persuading Jamie T to do the Ayatollah, and to get a haircut. He had a thick barnet that night, but within a matter of weeks, he’d shaved his hair almost completely. Coincidence? I think not.
The second gig was when we returned to see White Denim play. On that night the token celebrity appearance was made by Skins character Panda, not to be confused with the actress who played her, who made an unsteady appearance in the mosh pit. I had to help her off the floor on more than one occasion, after P. Mushy had mercilessly and brutally floored her (for some reason he hates Bristolians).
Support this week was due to come from Airship and The Chapman Family, but unfortunately our post-pre-gig-pint-but-still-pre-gig pint coincided with their slot, so when we arrived we had time to get some drinks (Gaymers since you asked) and look for a decent spot to stand in. We tried the upper deck but unfortunately there was a casualty en route, as Sandro’s can of Gaymers fell victim to a stray arm.
“Sorry, but you didn‘t have much of a grip on it to be fair,” the handsome culprit defended himself.
“I didn’t account for Alan Shearer and his swinging elbows walking in front of me,” Sandro countered.
“You must always account for Shearer and his swinging elbows,” the guilty party, bravely and heroically responded.
For some reason Sandro then elbowed me in the face.
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It was a fruitless visit anyway. It didn’t feel right to be so cutoff from the main crowd, so we retraced our steps and this time Sandro held his can with two hands. By the time The Joy Formidable took to the stage the place was so packed we’d had to cram right into the back corner, on the starboard side of the ship. Even though they’re only a trio, it looked claustrophobic on stage. I’m pretty sure Arcade Fire couldn’t play Thekla, which they’d probably be gutted to know.
The Joy Formidable are led by a blonde, bowl haired singer and guitarist named Ritzy Bryan who, I think it’s important to point out, also happens to be comfortably the best looking star to have graced Gigaweek so far (sorry Walter Schreifels, that slug-trail moustache has cost you again). Although small in stature she commands the stage and is certainly not shy to join bass guitarist Rhydian in a good old fashioned thrash (no, that’s not a euphemism).
I’d previously seen The Joy Formidable in October last year on the NME Radar tour they were headlining, at the Millennium Music Hall in Cardiff with the infamous Cousin Bish and we'd noticed then that they loved to end a song with an energetic instrumental thrash out.
They began this time on fine form with album opener 'The Everchanging Spectrum Of A Lie' which eases in gently, before finishing accelerating into a row to get the head nodding and the toes tapping. Their set continued at this tempo with 'The Magnifying Glass' and their first single 'Austere' rocking the boat and energising the crowd.
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The Big Roar’s closer 'The Greatest Light is The Greatest Shade' may well be my tune of the year so far (although it was originally on the mini-album in ‘09) and its epic sound was used early on to great effect, with a wall of sound filling the ships interior. Rivalling 'The Greatest Light' as my favourite song of the year (even if that year is 2009) is the much shorter and sharper 'Cradle' which is as breathless live as it is on record, which is dangerous when you're on a boat.
Throughout, Ritzy and Rhydian used their stage craft to keep an enthusiastic audience involved, and weren’t afraid to interact with the crowd between songs, at one point showing off impressive nautical knowledge, “Err, is that the Stern?” Credit should also go to drummer Matt Thomas, who, er, drummed masterfully.
In October, they’d displayed their stage presence and seemed to have developed a strong rapport with a loyal Cardiff following, some of whom had worn home-made masks of the band’s own faces, which were happily handed over to Rhydian and Ritzy who wore them for a few bizarre moments. At the forefront of their Bristol following, was local legend Big Jeff. Big Jeff is a one man mosh-pit with the energy of ten men and he regularly pops up in the front row at gigs in Bristol. It was tiring just watching him.
The main part of the set ended with another fine single 'Whirring' before they closed the show with an encore that included the superb 'I Don’t Wanna See You Like This' whose chorus repeats the title in a surprisingly catchy refrain. Sandro said something similar to me, funnily enough, although he dropped the last two words. And the first five actually. Really, he just said “piss off!” and I did, right after TJF ended the show with the haunting, dramatic sound of 'A Heavy Abacus' which was a fitting finale that allowed the more than landlubbers to escape to dry land.
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The gig was over by quarter to ten, so you’d have thought getting home to Cardiff would have been straightforward. It wasn’t.
Complacency got the better of us. Believing the last train to be scheduled for quarter to eleven, but at no time feeling the need to verify that assumption, we decided that rather than waiting at the station for an hour, we would treat ourselves to a drink at the nearby Hole in The Wall (that’s the name of a pub, rather than a few loose bricks if you were wondering). At around ten past ten, Sandro decided it would be a suitable precaution to confirm the train time.
He corresponded with renowned trainspotter Cousin Bish, who advised that in fact the next train was expected at around twenty-five past ten. Bugger. The harbour to the train station in less than fifteen minutes was doable, if you are running at a gallop or are already in the back of a taxi, but I’d pulled my hamstring that weekend and had been limping around like Verbal Kint ever since, which ruled out running.
Also, and crucially, none of us were prepared to leave half a pint undrunk.
(Can you believe that the spellchecker suggests that undrunk is not in the dictionary? Even though it’s a perfectly cromulent word.)
So we remained, only leaving the Hole in The Wall come closing time at around eleven o’clock, which meant we had time to burn and Bristol to burn it in, before the next train at 1:30am. I was due in work at 8:30am the following morning, so consequently I wasn’t my usual enthusiastic, fun-loving, resplendent, fantastic, wonderful, attractive, well endowed self. Instead I was tired, ugly, and irritable.
Regardless of my mood, I didn’t fancy sitting on a cold bench at the train station for two and a half hours so we agreed to go to the popular Bristolian bar Start The Bus, which I practically sleepwalked into and then nursed a beer miserably for over an hour instead. Yes, my drinking pace was faster than normal.
When we finally did board the train home I popped in my headphones, and dozed off within seconds. What seemed like only a second later I was awake. We were back in Cardiff, and it wasn’t yet 2:30am. I dozed off once more in the taxi, and we were home by 3:00am, by which time I was ready to drop.
Only there was something missing. I checked my pockets, panicking slightly. No headphones. I checked my coat, my jacket, my jeans, and every room I’d been in before reaching my bed. I also checked my ears just in case. Still no headphones. And no headphones meant no iPod.
Shit.
Had I left it on the train or in the Taxi? Who knows? Unfortunately, you may be aware that alcohol is known to have some negative effects on memory.
Thankfully I did remember one crucial detail that allowed me to relax, lie back, and fall asleep comfortably, with a smile on my face. . .
It wasn’t my iPod. I’d borrowed it off my little sister.
“Aaaaah. . .” I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God for that.”
What?
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February
29-4 - The Joy Formidable - ✓
5-11 - Jonny
12-18 - NME Shockwaves Tour (Crystal Castles, Magnetic Man, Everything Everything, The Vaccines)
19-25 - Les Savy Fav
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