Week 17

Week 17 – Saturday 23^rd April – Newport Arena, Newport – Beady Eye (£27.50)

“Prepare to witness, the greatest front-man of all time. Well, except for Damon maybe...”

Only two days after the magnificence of Metronomy, we were at it again. Sandro and I were among a group of nine extremely brave and adventurous men stepping into the unknown, a dangerous place known as Newport. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of insulting Newport, because that would be a rather shit dream, and my dreams usually involve naked bungee jumping.

It was a Saturday on which Cardiff City were playing Queens Park Rangers in a mouth-watering clash between the two top teams in the Championship, for whom promotion to the Premier League was merely a formality. . .

Unfortunately for myself and another of the nine, everyone’s favourite bad-jumper wearing computer geek J-Mo, our own commitment to trying to play football meant that we were unable to attend. Instead, we would meet the others later on, for our best attended pre-gig pint of the year.

After an entertaining but disappointing 2-2 draw, J-Mo and I met the slightly dejected, not-so-magnificent seven at The Prince of Wales, where they were listening to Kenny Loggins. The seven were: Sandro, P. Mushy, Gavlova, Flapjack, Uncle Benjammin, Jimbo Richards and Nicko B, each boasting traditional Welsh names.

We were the elite. The best of the best. The top 0.01% of Cardiff City fans, and in Flapjack, the bottom 0.001% of Swansea City fans.

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On the train, while sipping our refined Marks & Sparks French lager, J-Mo repeated his declaration that Liam Gallagher is the greatest front-man of all time. The claims of Mercury, Jagger, Plant, Bono, Tim Harrington and Ryan of Brum were all brushed off. More importantly, J-Mo also revealed that he refuses to eat anything less than eighteen inches worth of sandwich from Subway at a time (two foot-long subs being his preferred option), thus rendering his opinion null and void.

After Uncle Benjammin had shaken off a couple of rowdy local stragglers in the toilets of The John Wallace Linton pub, we made it from the station to the Newport Centre. It was my first visit to the multi-purpose leisure centre, whose surprisingly spacious hall can probably cram about 2,000 people inside, with room for an extra 200 in the swimming pool.

The bar upstairs overlooked that pool and was full to the brim with young lager louts wearing Pretty Green T-Shirts (J-Mo had wisely worn a bad jumper instead), as drinks were forbidden from the main hall. 


“What kind of venue doesn’t let you have a fuckin’ drink on a Saturday night?” Liam would later say, to widespread cheers of approval. J-Mo and I battled our way to the bar and came away with a couple of pints only to met by a seething Sandro.

“Where’s mine?” Sandro said.

“What d’you mean?” I said in surprise.

“I asked you to get me and Nicko one,” he said.

“No you didn’t,” I replied.

“Yes I did. I text you,” he insisted.

I checked my phone, 1 unread message read: “Get me and Nicko a pint you scumbag. If you don’t I’ll tear your vegetables off.” 


Whoops. Goodbye vegetables.

“Well, you can never rely on text orders in a busy bar,” J-Mo said smugly, “Crash and Burn Sandro.”

“J-Mo. . .” Sandro said leaning in. “You stink.”

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It was an almost pitch black danger zone in the main arena, and we made our way unsteadily downstairs to stand with the masses. If there was any support, we didn’t see it, instead Manchester’s favourite tunes blared out, with especially well received airings of 'I Am The Resurrection' from The Stone Roses and 'Sit Down' by James.

Liam’s new band then appeared to roars from the crowd and inventive chants of “Liam! Liam!” Liam instantly pulled off his trademark fan’s favourite move, the hands-behind-the-back- lean-in-to-the-mic pose, (which helped inspire my own pigeon dance, and the behaviour of various angry pigeons). The crowd were already in raptures as the soaring riffs of 'Four Letter Word' got the show underway.

While the chants were for Liam, and he’s essentially the main attraction, Beady Eye are essentially Oasis minus Noel (Oasis’ line-up at the time of their demise that is). Never lacking in confidence, apparently one of the main reasons they settled on the new name is so that they fall between The Beach Boys and The Beatles in your alphabetized record collection or iTunes library, although that suggestion has also been refuted as, “a load of bollocks,” by Sandro.

Unfortunately there was no chance of mistaking Beady Eye for Oasis, not just because Noel was quite an important member, but also because they refuse to play any Oasis material. A brave move you could say, to not rely on guaranteed crowd pleasers like Live Forever, Wonderwall, Cigarettes & Alcohol, Rock ‘n’ Roll Star and many more.

At £27.50 a ticket, it shows they have a high opinion of their first album, Different Gear, Still Speeding, but as Sandro always says, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” All present were obviously Oasis fans, and no doubt hoping to hear at least one of the classics. Liam was adamant that it wasn’t gonna happen though, in which case my suggestion would be to reduce the ticket price. By about £27.

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They played pretty much all their album, plus a couple of extras. J-Mo and Nicko B went particularly mad for it, but we all hopped about intelligently for 'Beatles and Stone'.

'Millionaire', 'The Roller' and “The Slow One” 'Kill For a Dream', were my other personal picks. The other album tracks deservedly earned high praise from Sandro, as being, “not as bad as I expected,” but don’t tell that to Jimbo Richards, who’d fallen asleep on his feet.

Liam prowled around the stage in the manner he has become famous for. I never thought watching a man strut would be so interesting to so many, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. In place of his traditional tambourine, he carried a towel around the stage throughout, using it to wipe his sweaty brow from time to time, like an angry, badly dressed Tennis player. If you will wear a big coat to a sweaty gig, then you should bring a towel.

When he launched his towel into the crowd at the end, there were chaotic scenes, as fans desperately scrambled for it. Nicko B even head-butted a small child in his vain attempt to claim the sweaty souvenir.

During their two song encore, after much prowling Liam climbed down from the stage and went for a wander among the groping hordes. Sadly he was just out of my reach and the enormous bald man stood in front of me was unimpressed by my caressing fingers. 


“We’re out of here, you’ve been the bollocks,” Liam said, distracting baldy enough for me to slip away unscathed.

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We woke Jimbo Richards up and went back to The John Wallace Linton for a couple of drinks, before catching a train at quarter to 12 back to Cardiff. After initially being refused entry to The Old Library because certain members of the nine were wearing shorts and flip flops (Sandro included of course). 


Most of us gained entry using our persuasive skills (by using the other entrance), while some of us had the one and only Salazar to thank.

Unfortunately, in the confusion, we lost Nicko B.

“He was a good man,” I said to Sandro.

“He still is a good man,” he replied.

“That’s what I said,” I lied.

'You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin’' then suddenly clicked into play on the jukebox, and turning around, two stunningly beautiful women wandered over to me and J-Mo.

 “You can be my wingman anytime,” I said to J-Mo fifteen minutes later.

“Bullshit!” he replied. “You’re a terrible wingman, that’s why we’re going home with Sandro and not those two birds!”

How was I to know they wouldn’t like football?

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April

2-8 - The Sunshine Underground - ✓

9-15 - Pete & The Pirates - ✓

16-22 - Metronomy - ✓

23-29 - Beady Eye - ✓