Despite running late, by about a minute, I was still well ahead of Sound Control. Wondering where the barriers and bouncers were, I walked straight in, wandered very slowly past some bar staff to the stairs, up and round the corner to the actual room, past more bar staff and a sound man, shuffled around looking at flyers of shows I didn’t care to see, and rolled back downstairs to find a bouncer wrestling with a barrier. Being the sort of chap who’d actually paid for entry, I didn’t have a problem with seeing myself out, and the bouncer was surprisingly relaxed about it, and told me it was going to be a late start. After grabbing a quick half a cola from a student pub across the road (without feeling old, surprisingly), I pottered back in past the bouncer (who asked for identification, further entrenching my apparent youth), got a silly little stamp on my hand, and went through to discover that the upstairs was now blocked with a mighty chain, giving me ten minutes to wallow on the stamp and its cause, the e-ticket. Not having to take a ticket seems like a sensible solution to things like postage costs, environmentally friendly paper savings, and not worrying about losing or fatally damaging the damned thing. However, not only are you deprived of a physical memento of your presence short of buying merchandise, but you’re also ushered to one side to check off a list, which means bringing your card for proof of purchase, a far more consequential loss than that of a ticket, and also that anyone who did get a physical ticket from the more expensive vendor could have scooted right past me. As it was, that wasn’t the case, and all of about three people had arrived by the time the chain was dismantled by a crack team of youths in cheap hats. It then took another half hour before the first support act came up, by which time about thirty people were in the room and two people had wandered briefly to the front, then away again, then back again, so, having been able to stand at the side and rest against a wall, I decided to step in. After finding myself indifferent to sets from a one man band and a six-piece that were both incredibly sluggish, I noticed that the room was almost full, maybe three hundred or so strong, except for a five foot vacuum between the front and the next row of people. Such is the nature of being as standoffish and overtly reluctant as possible if you aren’t going to step in.
The presence of the main act’s roadie sucked the crowd into that vacuum, and not long after I managed to lurch over the barrier to see the last few songs on the setlist (which contained a lot of “or” and uncertainty), Buffalo Tom were greeted warmly, and immediately launched into classics “Tree House” and “Summer”. Immediately apparent was guitarist Bill Janovitz’s dominance on stage, exaggerated by his on-and-off hat-wearing, diminishing bassist Chris Colbourn, who always seems to come across as the shy, retiring type. Janovitz also seemed determined to experiment on some unfamiliar solo licks at every opportunity, as well as change up the emphasis on vowels, which seemed to be effective in preventing people from singing along.
The band introduced a couple of new songs, with “Guilty Girls” following Colbourn’s “She’s Not Your Thing”, both from the freshly released Skins album. Colbourn’s vocal delivery was much more predictable and solid, although the latter quality evaded his memory at one point. After playing standards “Taillights Fade” and “Sunflower Suit”, Colbourn had stepped up again preparing to sing “Late At Night”. A crowd member shouted out a request for “Lost Weekend”, and Colbourn paused, and eventually shook his head and replied “I don’t even recognise that one.” Three songs down the line, he stepped up and addressed the crowd member again. “I just realised, you said ‘Lost Weekend’? That’s off the new record, isn’t it?” Drummer Tom Maginnis laughed, and Janovitz taunted.
The band went through the setlist, providing the tried and trusted formula. Slower rock ballads were interspersed with high energy songs, and older material surrounded new material. They neither fell into the trap of being a nostalgia act, nor proceeded to stuff Skins material down our throats as if it was the only thing they did that mattered. The band seemed to be having fun, and Janovitz in particular put in a lot of energy and was enjoying the variation he was throwing in. Playing until a bit after eleven, I wasn’t expecting an encore given the standard curfew, but after claiming to have found the stage door to be locked, the band did indeed respond to the encore-querying cheers after a few minutes to play a few more songs. Cries of “Staples” had echoed occasionally throughout the night, and while Colbourn seemed eager to play it, Janovitz was less keen, and picked the perfect way out. “Do you want to hear ‘Staples’, or ‘Mineral’?” Of course, the crowd opted in favour of the latter, a relative hit, albeit marginally. The band closed on a New Order cover, and left to hearty cheers.
Given that “Staples” was probably the song I wanted to hear most that was in the running, that was a mild disappointment, along with the somewhat downbeat closer. Overall though, I was pretty happy. This was the first time I went to a non-punk rock show, but there was still enough sound and energy to keep things lively enough, and the only thing that didn’t work was the harmonica, which I can most certainly live with. The drive up in a small overheated car had worked a minor miracle on a dreadful head cold I was suffering from. There was also the added bonus of not being pulverised against the front barrier by waves of youths, skinheads, circle pit runners, and youthful skinhead circle pit runners, and not living in fear of crowd surfers. The first time I saw the Dropkick Murphys a few years earlier in Oxford, I had badly bruised breasts (not that I really have them, although they probably will come with old age) and knees, which is fair enough given that the barriers are typically sheets of metal with a metal pole going across the top, but a guy two along from me got clobbered in the head by some joker crowd surfing forwards, belly up, feet first. The heel bashed the back of his head forwards, smacking his face against the barrier pole. Blood everywhere, and the poor chap probably needed a dental appointment. This is why I’m an avid supporter of stealing crowd surfers’ shoes. It’s not that cool, it’s not assault, it’s not petty theft, and the fact that you may enjoy it is irrelevant. It’s protecting the health and safety of yourself and those around you from getting a serious head injury from someone else’s selfish behaviour, and discouraging them from repeating the offence. Going into a show with the confidence that I wouldn’t be badly injured gave me the confidence to plan to drive back home, which I duly did to the sound of a China Drum tape. Given that most trains, including the one I would have needed, don’t run after about half ten, let alone half eleven when the show finally finished, that saved me a bundle on a hotel room, in which experience tells me that time is best spent wallowing in the hottest bath you can handle so that you can still move your limbs the following morning. Maybe more subdued crowds are a good thing. Maybe I’m just getting old.
Setlist*
Tree House (Big Red Letter Day)
Summer (Sleepy Eyed)
She’s Not Your Thing (Skins)
Guilty Girls (Skins)
Taillights Fade (Let Me Come Over)
Sunflower Suit (Buffalo
Late At Night (Big Red Letter Day)
Sunday Night (Sleepy Eyed)
Velvet Roof (Let Me Come Over)
I’m Allowed (Big Red Letter Day)
Down (Skins)
Larry (Let Me Come Over)
Sodajerk (Big Red Letter Day)
Your Stripes (Sleepy Eyed)
Arise Watch (Skins)
Kitchen Door (Sleepy Eyed)
You’ll Never Catch Him (Three Easy Pieces)
Tangerine (Sleepy Eyed)
Encore
Don’t Forget Me (Skins)
CC And Callas (Three Easy Pieces)
Mineral (Let Me Come Over)
Age Of Consent (New Order cover)
*undoubtedly contains errors in the middle section, not having an opportunity to write down the setlist right after and listening to different music for a two hour drive before getting the opportunity does affect the quality of setlist memory.
Sounds like an incredible show. I've never had the pleasure of catching Buffalo Tom and would have to say I would have voted for mineral too. Funny thing though, Staples is the first song I heard off of Let Me Come Over and it still has magic.
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