When the cider starts flowing

I’d quietly started sipping the apple juice in a boogaloo bar on the other side of the street – I guess they were still putting out the chairs in The Red Hedgehog – because I was uptown in Highgate to see the ever wonderful Euros Childs ‘in concert’.  A sudden blast to the end of 2014 – a new long player (well 32 minutes or so) from the man himself and a series of dates to accompany the release of Eillaaig. 

The Boogaloo bar was once the haunt of Shane MacGowan and his brand of roogie boogie - his picture was on the wall – he was by the fire – he wasn’t on fire – I guess that would happen though – accidentally set himself alight – on an any given night.

The cider was strong in there. And when the cider starts flowing there’s only once place we’re going. To see Euros Childs in an intimate venue across the road.

The cider was flowing there too. All bottles from off licences sold at twice the price for a good cause. In fact a heady mix of strong cider and the eternal waft of a lit joss stick greeted my arrival to The Red Hedgehog. For some reason I chose a seat which pretty much meant I was looking at Euros’ back for most of the night. Just like the poster advertising the tour.

It would have felt a little odd to be seated right in front of him. You know Mark Chapman like.

Now - you know my unwavering bias for Euros Childs. So this review of sorts will simple tell you to go see him – buy his new album – and ask him to make another one – so we can all do this again next year.  So here goes – as I said the cider was stronger than me – I hope to recall the night the best I can.

The support act for tonight was Euros Childs – so it was two sets for the price of one. Never knowingly undersold is Euros. So the first set was the new record by. An odyssey (and oracle) of piano and words – like watercolour brushes dipped in water – trails and swirls. The new album -  Eillaaig – which I presumed was welsh – well he’s from another land this man – is actually a made up word – there is no translation there is only it’s fixedness to this album. It doesn’t translate to any world language – but then again Euros seems otherworldly at times – all angles and twitches – spreading utter joy wherever he lands.

This album is other worldly.

The album has this Satie/ repetitive/ Brian Wilson/ Mozart triads (that’s not a gang – I’m talking about the notes) discordant subtlety throughout it – mixed with sentiment and feeling. Of walks and old buildings – wood and smoke – it kind of conjures up the air – you feel like you’re outside when you’re listening on the inside. The piano is taut – crisp like winter mornings – but slowly filling with warmth as your cheeks begin to glow in icy sunshine.  Simple bass notes – holding the ethereal floating top end in place – not letting it drift away.  It’s full of honesty – and reminds me of arriving in halls for ‘singing practice’ dusty floors and piano masters (sorry that makes me sound so public school – it was comprehensive schools in Scunthorpe I’m referencing here – just so you know – I mean it maaaaaaan)

It’s classical in so many ways – possibly conceptual.

The Red Hedgehog was probably the right place to play. It had this awkward honesty about it to – all woollen hats and slight confusion. Euros seated at the far end surrounded by red chairs and candles and general tat – pushed to the back. The majority of the new long player is instrumental – you don’t always needs words. And besides we’d get those in the next half.

Suffice to say – It was great to hear this – without already hearing it first – a bold move on Euros’ part?  Not really – I think his audience – and it’s always growing – this night was sold out after all – I think his audience can take the risk too. You are always pleasantly surprised/ satisfied by his music making and I’ve been playing the album every morning since hearing it that first time.

It is my winter warmer.

So with the album played and hands clapped – Euros departed in readiness for the second set. It was costume changes and roadies testing equipment whilst we waited.

It wasn’t. It was an empty piano and more joss sticks. 

I don’t think there was a costume change – but there was an ‘entrance’. Appearing from the back to rapturous applause Euros was back (and of course my view was his back) to play some more – to put the soul in the rock and roll (or was that Denim?) This wonderful set mixed the old and the new – with his usual humourous insight and meandering tales we are accustomed to as part of the Euros audience – as I said there’s a gentleness to this star performer – that comes out in a humble manner – but he does make me laugh. He could do an ‘in conversation with…’ evening and it would be just as fun. Ok – well nearly as – because when Euros breaks into Ursula’s Crow (can you break into Ursula’s Crow – he’s not Elton John milking the masses?) you remember that it’s the songs that make you sing and grin.

He has that touch – light and airy meets well timed delivery. With a run through of some of the wonders of Situation Comedy (Second Home Blues and Tete-et-Tete)  and Summer Special (That’s Better ) and the majestic Ends (the Open Window, Spin that girl around, Parent’s Place – you can find how that song gets me elsewhere in my writing about Euros) And a thankful  outing for Bread ( I don’t mean we stopped and popped to Gregg’s) all baroque and crust – one day Jonny will release a second album – Euros said so – it might be the Joe Meek one.  There was How Do you Do from Son of Euros, Dust from the Cousins album and a wonderful version of Pretty Ballerina by The Left Banke that nearly rounded off the night. Euros should do a covers album at some point. You know it would be beautiful.  Euros even waited for a member of the audience to get back from the toilet. Well that was me – I told you about all this flowing cider and where it leads. And besides there was only one toilet – the other was screened off – for the rock stars I guess – or possibly because of the plumbing.

Euros finished off the night’s proceedings with a glorious uproarious Poodle Rockin’ finale. And that was it. Huge applause and shuffled chairs. Out into the bracing night air with a (miracle) grin and a wide eyed stare.

I don’t think I can make the later London shows – it feels treacherous – but there are young ones to look after and presents to buy and wrap and turkeys to feed and crackers to stuff or something. You never know – I just might find myself there.

An evening with Euros is somewhat irresistible.

Buy his album.  Buy all his albums. You even get a note from the National Elf himself. And elves like to make us happy at Christmas (or summat like that) 

I haven't got a video of the night - so here's a link to Euros' sound cloud site: 




And a lovely version of The Open Window

Here's to lots more dots: The Pale Blue Dots

I received a copy of Lots of Dots through the post the other day. It’s the new (long) player from The Pale Blue Dots. Actually it’s the first long player from The Pale Blue Dots. It was good to see that the thinking, the talking and writing has finally paid off. I was beginning to doubt whether any of this would ever surface and run its rings around the world.

If you don’t know already – because these things get around town – by word of mouth, internet ravings and rumours and releases – The Pale Blue Dots are Huw ‘Bunf’ Bunford and Richard Chester. Richard is one of my best friends – is my best friend. Good friends. We’ve spent some real good times together and I’ve always appreciated his musical ear(s). Bunf was known to me through the Furries – and that pretty much makes him a musical genius – there hasn’t been a band like the Super Furry Animals before or after. They captured that freeing of sound the 90s let in – briefly combining rock and roll with psych and soul all topped with chemical beats and treats. 

It was Welsh independence writ large for the masses with guitars and furry suits. And here it is again - without the suits but just as experimental.

As you know – I have had access to part of The Pale Blue Dots for some time and have been raving and raging about them for two years now. Ever since Richard sent me Additional (which is yet to see the light of day) a tune all awash with Jeff Lyne, flourishes and strings I have felt this band had a finger somewhere on the pulse of rock n roll (that's the widest definition of rock n roll - you could just call it music) So where to begin? I should do some sort of plodding Mojo review – two paragraphs and a press release. Give four stars and bang it up. But I think it deserves a little more praise than that – but then I am a bias fucker.

This is not an extension of the Super Furry Animals. It isn’t even a solo project – it’s a bit more complicated and I think this first long player reveals it. Its textures and hooks and riffs and rolls coupled with openness and playfulness. It’s the pleasure of listening.  It’s clear that there is an interaction between the two worlds – Bunf’s is different to Richard’s but that shared connection – that understanding is evident in the straight pop boogie of Devastation through to the wonderfully evocative Nebraska.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It isn’t conceptual – yet there’s a thread running through it. We have references to West Coast psychedelia (Slow Reaction), through soundscapes and Asian melancholia mixed with the funky drummer (Tokyo Hotel Silence or Silent Tokyo Hotel – which had my daughter smiling  - she just loved the idea that the two pieces were essential the same with muddled words) coupled with ramalama Bolan/ Bowie infused boogaloo (Devastation) eighties production and early synth experimentation (Look into my Eyes)  to the wild plains and haunting twangs of the prairie as dusk falls (Nebraska).

And it all works together. From start to finish it evolves and lingers – causually working its way from the short term memory to the long term.

Its an experiment in getting inside your head.

Guitars are distorted and loud, it's full of clangs and chimes  - then things are suddenly strummed and simple – they are sounds in themselves. And you can see that both of these fellas love sound. You can see that they 'get' sound. They get down to 'sound'. (The Sound of the Crowd)

I guess we get a glimpse of what’s inside their heads. It’s quite dark at times. You might keep it upbeat but No Motivation references that sinking slide into busily doing nothing but sleeping. Put that with Slow Reaction – which from its opening piano riff lodges itself firmly in your brain and you’ve got a band struggling to articulate and do.

Except it isn’t.  Because here’s an album full of potential pop hits. Produced by Cian at the Strangetown Studios - there's a lovely space and groove to it all. I mean that I really do. As I said previously these are older fellas writing music for the masses.  There’s a touch of Nilsson, of Alex ‘Skip’ Spence, Jeff Lyne (and his dark eyes) Spector and early electro albums and of course if you really want to you'll hear a nod to the Furries. Bound to - really. Oh and Daf is playing drums.

It's a wide-ranging album and whilst the focus will be on Bunf - this is double labour of love - for both members. It surprises and asks for a response. When I first heard Reach for the Keys – I didn’t get it. It seemed so overblown and vibrating with empty halls and the echoes of children’s voices – with a rolling nursery rhythm beat. But as with all these tunes they have legs – they have feet – they grow. And it's haunting opening - sort of reminiscent of the Tales of the Unexpected - Roald Dhal making earworm pop - soon lodges itself in your brain. Bunf's simply delivery coupled with found sounds and talk - after a few listens I was happily singing along.

Aquarium could be the missing link between the last SFA album and these Pale Blue Dots. Creeping closer now it gives you the creeps. Bunf's vibrato is quite extraordinary. There's a fragility amidst the lush orchestration - as Bunf dazzles his partner with his 'Admit One Extra' pass and get's her in for 'free now baby'. Meanwhile Richard's layering the strings like the bastard son of Barry. Super continents collide my friend.

And what a great collision this is. It's good to have Richard and Bunf together.

You know I was worried about Lots of Dots dark unnerving cover – a little girl slaughtered as a lamb sits by her side. I mean what should I be reading into that? Or it could just be a broken ornament – found in any home across the land and tipped over through excitement and stupidity. You know it’s just a cover  - but there's an undercurrent to it - a subtext. Something which rings out on this (way to short) long player - take Look in to my Eyes - it's all in a look. Concentrate. Something's lurking in this song - something's lurking in this album and I like it.

You know we might miss the Super Furry Animals and I’m not holding my breath for a reunion – although it would be great.

But let’s give this credit.

Let’s give them all credit.

They can all write fucking quality tunes - Gruf, Cian, Daf, Guto and Bunf – with each other - apart - or here with Richard Chester.

I hope this release is the start of something new. I know there are more songs  - lots more dots - absolute crackers - but as first releases go - every tune is great in its own right.  And if me and my kids are singing these songs in the car - then I know you will be too.

They're having a blast. So let's join in.

Lots of Dots is released on StrangetownRecords on November 3rd.

The Pale Blue Dots are in session on Monday on Marc Riley's show from 7.00pm

You can listen to The Pale Blue Dots here. 

Music and myth: A night with Gruff

I saw Gruff Rhys the other week. I really should have written it up sooner – but it’s been fairly hectic and frantic and non stop stop stop recently. 

If  there’s one furry animal who keeps up the appearances then it’s Gruff – whilst the band remain in some limbo state of stasis – well their name anyway – as all the other members are busy doing this and that (more to come about later on) in a furry or not so furry vein.  Gruff seems to churn out Mercury nominated collaborative albums by the bucketload – and there seems to be no dip in quality whatever he turns his exquisite eye and hand to.

I had originally planned to go with a long time friend who’s recently set up shop in the southbank concrete jungle – all education plans and talk – but he couldn’t make it – he had however managed to get me the tickets though – that unexpected joy of being on a guest list made me feel twenty years old again. Except I’m 43 now – grey and much fatter – but with the easy grin of child when it’s all coming for free.

 Not that it would have made it any better.

You see Gruff is wonderful company in the intimacy of the Queen Elizabeth Hall.  All set up ready for a recital that looks part concert, part lesson what with the power point in tow (ok it wasn’t a power point – it was a slide show – all labelled and organised - but you get my drift).

There’s a wonderful laconic relaxed nature to Gruff – it comes from that assured knowledge that what he’s doing is genuine I think – this is not postmodern trickery of the masses – it is a wonderful piece of exploratory pop wedded to an ancient ‘man-made’ (possibly) myth of a Welsh tribe conquering the America Interior and the efforts of one man to find out the truth some way back in the 1800s. It’s the outward monologue of an offbeat mindset that is Gruff Rhys.

So our gig begins with a film. Beautiful shot in high contrast, all long pans and shaky cuts as a professor in safari wear gives us the background on the Welsh’s role in the making the land of the free. Narrated by Gwyn A. Williams the short film covers the origins of the notion that Welsh tribes first settled in North America in the 12th century. It propels you back to your own childhood of BBC documentaries and early morning Open Universities output. It is flawless in its attention to detail – long shots of a walking man on Welsh hills and American landscapes. It is also funny.

Gruff is that genial host – effortlessly cool and funny in equally measure – he’s performing in wolf headdress with cue cards – record player and acoustic guitar – he’s explaining the journey and creating our journey and what a journey it turns out to be. Songs interspaced with image and explanation of the horrors that John Evans or Jean Evans or even Don Juan Evans went through in his quest to find out where the Welsh went.  From the opening  C&W tinged Tiger’s Tale, that soon segues into the ensuing Year Of The Dog, the audience are held pretty much spellbound for the best part of two hours. It’s good company to be in.

Oh did I forget to say – Gruff recreated the voyage – with a puppet. A grey muppet of austere stature and utter melancholia – it’s black and white felt (as imagined by Pete Fowler) serving to reinforce the tragicomic elements of this ‘story’. Gruff brings him on to cheers from the sold out venue – like an even more surreal moment from The Muppets.  And then proceeds to show us where he’d been and which tube line he’d travelled on – via the wonder of technology and beautifully framed pictures beamed from his ipad to the vast screen on stage. It’s fair to say Gruff looks lonely out there – but it’s clear the audience are willing him on.

Gruff has this wonderful flick of his wrist – and images zoom in and break up in pixels and fuzz – or jump back as if alive – it brings the whole story to life. And once again it’s funny. Combined with sounds – such as when John Evans is arrested in Baltimore (“the home of crack cocaine and The Wire”) or is it St.Louis -  and it becomes something else – like a scene from a B film – all zooms and chops as sirens ring out and the intensity of the zoom whilst manic is timed for comic perfection. Gruff's deadpan delivery only adding to the inherent humor in the hall. 

At times I actually shake with laughter – at school I used to spend a lot of time laughing with the friend I’d eventually gone along with the gig with – a one Richard Chester – who’s about to release a wonderful set of tunes with another furyy – Bunf – but that’s for a later post – and this is not about The Pale Blue Dots – yet.  We used to cut pictures out of the paper and bring them in to make each other laugh at inopportune moments in PHSE or History – laughter in the corridors of comprehensives – it was a steel town we didn’t have much else – but our odd pictures of Dave Hill, or Ian Botham’s engagement, Les Dawson’s eye or James Brown’s orange leather jerkin would get us through the day (and night for that matter)

And there was a moment in Gruff’s procedings where he expertly linked the Acid Trip scene from Easy Rider to the same cemetery where John Evans had been buried. His choice of photograph and that causal throwaway comment just had me howling. The juxtaposition of Hopper and Fonda in that cemetery and our journey with John was comedy timing at is finest. Seriously he should have his own sit com – it was spectacle and stand up. Beautiful combined and timed.

But we nearly never got there – as apple’s ipad warnings ominously flashed up on screen – with Gruff at first unaware of the 10% remaining life of his ipad.  Thus we – the audience were not going to follow this tale the way it had been originally intended – indeed. “To add to the suspense [of the story], we don’t even know if we’ll make it to the end” Gruff tells us - it's a tense moment but we're here for the ride. With time definately not on his side - and an aborted attempt at charging that actually reduced the power - it was only the 'back up solutions' of an audience member that saved the images that are so intrinsic to this musical monologue.

In some ways the show falling apart only made it more special – more riveting – with the ipad dying in front of our eyes and calls for the technician to find the right charger – we didn’t know whether Gruff would have to fly solo even further – unaided – without photographic evidence. So the tale was told quickly and effectively – leaving time for the songs to be played in a batch – reflecting the photos we had briefly glimpsed. Saying that Gruff – told the story with the aid of a dubplate with beats – a 7 inch of slow jam – a beat (poet) explanation with added bass.

It would be good to have this narration with the album – but all you get are the songs. And what wonderful songs they are – conjuring up the west – the (lost) tribes he meets and the travels of our character, the last conquistador, in full technicolour. Gruff performs them simply here – guitar upturned in hand – and ipad applications double tracking voices – or replaying moments – it’s what we’ve come to expect from Gruff – multiple things happen at once – out of seeming chaos and random sounds -come tunes of utter wit and beauty. These are not Furry tunes done by one man – this is his art maaaaaaaaan. This is his thing.

And I guess when the narration takes a back seat and the set takes on a more usual format - the songs aren't in anyway diminished by the lack of explanation. Instead - Gruff simply sings and we clap.

Because that's the response you have. And he tells us to with his 'Applause' cue card.

But it's The Swamp that brings me to my knees - as we lay John Evans to rest - Gruff sweetly sings the line, 'I'm not scared of dying, I'm just scared of making you cry' - it's poignant but not mawkish - it's soul singing of the highest order. So two hours later we're still there - wanting another and another - and Gruff doesn't disappoint - with some nods and winks to his own back catalogue - not the Furries - just his own.  Candylion and Honey all over - end the show. 

As harmonies build and soar - Gruff runs from the stage - one final command card in his hand - we applaud.

And he thanks us.

For a brilliant and technically accurate review of the concert you should read this:

http://dotsanddashes.co.uk/live/review-gruff-rhys-queen-elizabeth-hall/

There's also an app and DVD and soundtrack and lots and lots of things - you can find a link to those via Gruff's site 

http://www.gruffrhys.com

And here's a wonderful song from Gruff

I love it when the roogie boogie band comes to town

It had been brewing for weeks - the inevitable time that I'd be back with Euros Childs again - and as it turns out The Wellgreen and Laura J Martin. You know I'd done my research - listening to the new album in the car and watching the last great situation comedy ‘dinnerladies’ on DVD – melding the two together. It had been a new engagement - this Euros Childs’ album - it took a little longer to work with me - possible because the leaked track to Mojo (the music magazine) and the associations with Macca (it was that issue with Paul on the front) and the writing in character - all eleven songs in the vein of.....I mean it's not as if Euros hasn't done a concept album before (although this isn’t a concept album – it’s just a good album)  but I was in that frame of mind - careful rather than simply expecting the goods.

And why should I have it my way - he's the songwriter.

And what a songwriter. He just gets better and better.

So where to begin? At the start I guess. Don't look for the laughs here - oh it's comic - but not necessarily laugh out loud. Originally I was going with my other half - she's had to put up with me since I started extolling the virtues of Chops (the album  - not the meat) way back after a Concretes concert. Instead it was the solitary forty something at the front – I was meant to be meeting a dear friend - except he didn't come - I met another Richard though - he'd been drinking since 12 noon - we shared our ways of the world with a pint in the bar next to the venue. I left him there – he should have come next door for a little bit of Euros but I feel he was already swaying too much for an evening of boogie woogie.

Then I sold my ticket to an entertaining mod with a sideline in insurance. All characters you see.

And our first characters of the night were The Wellgreen. I simply love The Wellgreen –their harmony inflected pop music should be playing out of transistor radios up and down the land. I’m not going to spend too long on this far too brief but absorbing set – it was early doors for these two Scottish lads – but they set the tone for the evening. Soul music. So I just grin throughout. I don’t need to bear it. It’s a pleasure. Opening with the Bacharach meets The Zombies structure of ‘Maybe it’s the pressure of the City Life that’s tearing us apart’ the ever growing crowd (arriving at The Boston Arms) are treated to simplicity served up with a slice of the Scottish Everly brothers. Except things have changed – it might have been that time spent with Errol Brown in the prison cells – but the harmonies are evoking Brian Wilson at his finest. Stu and Marco compliment each other so well – building harmony and melody into clouds of beauty (oh come on – I’m feeling over the top) I know I

reference the sixties when I write about The Wellgreen – but there a modernist slant – as if The La’s had bothered to keep writing tunes. It seems so effortless – but that’s the craft you see – make it seem easy – Cantona style. Suffice to say – I bought their new album. I am getting ready to weave a review into a post – it’s coming soon – so grin and bear with me. I then proceeded to harangue Stuart Kidd and did my best to appear like a stalker for the rest of the night (Brides in the Bath – back home)  He was as affable and interesting as ever  - it turns out The Wellgreen teach music out in the villages up their way – now that’s a music lesson I’d love to be in.

Laura J Martin still has this bewitching effect on audiences – and rightly so – you don’t expect the sounds to emerge from her slight frame all fraught yet formidable. I saw her first at a Jonny concert (oh you know I’m stalking Euros – you just have to accept it) and she blew me away – this repetition in the music  (and we’re never gonna lose it) built from loops of flute and bangs and chants. Well she was at it again on Friday – her set was fierce. I couldn’t quite get the words this time – I think the soundperson couldn’t quite get his and her levels – so we had treble flutes and ever expanding reverb – but her charm and ingenuity shone through a muddied mix. The addition of the bouncy Adam Stearn on bass and Stuart and Marco from The Wellgreen with harmonies and drums and guitar gave her new songs that different dimension. Sublime.  I won’t talk about Kate Bush and all that - but I will say she has this PJ Harvey way about her -you know with a flute – she has this enthralling way of telling a tale. You should buy her record to – you probably did – after the gig – from her – that’s how it works.

Sing and sell. Simple.

Euros’s new long player – and it is a long player all four sides and counting takes a different trajectory to the Summer Special of last year – there’s possibly a more intricate take on the pop song on this album. These are crafted tales of worry, woe, misery, love and bitterness written with a quirk and an aside. You’d cry if you weren’t smiling. And that’s what always comes out in a live performance with Euros manning the helm of the good ship Roogie Boogie – a smile – well a laugh if I’m being honest.

Euros performs with a kind of kinetic energy – all twists and flails – bends and turns. Not exactly a man possessed – more poised than that – but you can tell there’s a music coursing through them there bones. And a humour to. There’s nothing contrived about this band – about this man – no symbolism through sub culture – just good tunes and top times. I mean Marco is wearing shorts – perhaps these final dates had depleted the wardrobe – I don’t know - there might have been a mishap on the A1 or M4?

But it’s never been about fashion.

Euros has probably written some of the finest songs of the decade and for us lucky souls he lifts them from their CD cases into new spaces of sound and fury (signifying everything) Opening with Bore Da – eventually – after Euros was reminded of the actually chords he needed to play and issues with his microphone - you could easily see the connections between these early sounds and styles and this new long player. There’s no pause for breath as we hit Second Home Blues – and characters come alive in The Boston Arms.  All frets, regrets and tete a tetes.  Euros is weaving a picture of a bored Britain through Avon Ladies and second mortgages, motorway services and emerging romances. (It’s all economics to me.)

It’s warm inside and there’s a warmth on the stage and it radiates around. We have smiles on our faces because we are happy – even when he’s singing Brides in the Bath – all howls and menace. I was worried about Brides in the Bath – I couldn’t warm to it on the album – it rankled me for some reason – but here receiving the full strength assault of the band in full swing – all discordant and descending - it made sense to me. A killer tune (aha).

An expectant hush greets Parents’ Place – and I’ve said it before – but it brings me to my knees – slays me every time. Backed by the band and still part of the set  from last year  - you see the tragedy mined on Situation Comedy started a long time back on Ends, or The Miracle Inn and even Bora da – there’s a back catalogue there. If you haven’t got it then order it now – from the National Elf himself.

It’s worth every penny. And it funds the next release.

Cottage industries making worldwide music. It’s how it should be – not tainted by the execs and excess of corporate label management – don’t get me wrong I’d love it if Euros was even more widely known than he is – but there’s an integrity about doing it the way that he does. One rehearsal and then get on the road – no leather jackets and Aerosmith entrances for this band. Just Twitter feeds, photos and thank yous – simple connections in digital times. Although to see the Roogie Boogie band dressed in leather with a firework finale could be something worth saving up for. 

And then with the melancholy high in the room – we get that cheery and cheeky little number – Be Be High and then That’s Better. And it was – Euros Childs is simply on it. And number after pop number gets played. And here I am secretly waiting for Tina Said (I also wanted the first two parts of Miracle Inn – but I kind of knew I wasn’t going to get it) because that’s the one that does it for me on Situation Comedy. That driving melody wedded to a folk tradition that stretches way, way back to when I was younger. When we were younger. It’s another one for my children – we had it on a loop in the days before the concert. I like the fact my children sing Euros Childs numbers and ask about Lou Reed when their mum and I are mouthing disbelief at him dying. They’re not hip kids – they’re just good at listening. Open and honest. Which is what I get from Euros – he looks – he sees the minutiae – the odd glance, a glint in the eye, a beauty in the banal – ‘with her suitcase full she’s out of the door on the B13 to Teddlymore’  (Listen to Avon Lady)

And the set continues to confound and please – new songs and old ones. There was a chance to win a prize – because anything goes at a Euros gig maaaaaaan. And all the while it was leading to a blistering psychedelic romp through ‘Like This Then Try This’. A genuine aural assault. You know it’s going to go off when the Casio is deployed. Three hundred people dressed as cheese all dancing to the rhythm of the beat – you had to be there. If you weren’t – then why not?

Encoring with Spin that Girl Around with extra flute from Laura – this man in the audience is wearing a grin as long as ‘your’ arm and as always I had to buy something.  Having already received my copy of Situation Comedy through the post – you’ll have to decide what I bought by visiting Euros’ site and checking out the back catalogue.

So off I rolled into the cold November night. Happy again. So roll on next year.

I’ll be there. Dressed as cheese. Will you?

There's lots to watch and listen to in this post - Here's Euros from The Boston Arms last Friday, and then Laura J Martin and finally there's a video of Ants from a Glasgow gig by The Wellgreen. (Thanks to Ruth for putting these up amd Mike Watts for the Laura J Martin one and Geomck for The Wellies)