The Fruit Tree Foundation Gig Noble’s Bar Leith 20th October, 2011
The Fruit Tree Foundation is an independent project, led by musicians Rod Jones and Emma Pollock, which aims to raise awareness of mental health and well-being by creating great art. First Edition, the Fruit Tree Foundation’s first album, was released in the summer of 2011 to great critical and public success. A limited edition is available for purchase commercially and for download on the Chemikal Underground label.
Now, in 2011, they’ve launched a new mentoring programme to create exciting new music by pairing up aspiring singer-songwriters with established mentors chosen by the Foundation. Successful applicants have had a taste of the creative process with mentors from the indie and folk music scene.
The fresh talent has enjoyed a day of collaboration and recorded two songs in the studio, which culminated in a live performance in Leith’s Nobles Bar with mentors Rod Jones, James Yorkston and Withered Hand.
The gig went down a storm with each of the mentees performing admirably against their full-time musical partners, the highlight for me being singer/songwriter, Liz Cronin, who gave a performance with as much professionalism as the pros alongside her. A woman with a voice to be treasured, it’s remarkable to think on watching we perform that she was the mentee in her combo.
A great night and a great charity, it’s very much a case of watch this space for all of the talent showcased on the evening.
The general feeling among the ska community about The Specials playing Glasgow’s SECC, other than the usual nostalgic wave that accompanies their arrival, was one of apprehension.
After the massive success of their 30th anniversary reunion tour in 2009, some felt—myself included—that by putting together another tour two years on, with no new material and in a larger, sub-standard venue, the Specials would be seen as another 80s cash-in.
And with the O2 Academy lying empty just down the road, all signs pointed to it being a move to capitalise on the loyalty and generosity of their fans one last time.
Although the gig was one of the few that never sold out in this particularly extensive UK tour, those that did show up (and it must have been almost at capacity by stage time) were in for a pleasant surprise.
Yes there were no new songs, and yes the acoustics in the SECC’s hall 3 sometimes leave a lot to be desired, but for a top atmosphere and a killer set, nobody could complain.
Lynval Golding seemed to acknowledge this fact toward the end of the gig in an unusually honest appraisal: “thank you for coming out to this one, Scotland—it means a lot.”
And as far as ska gigs go, it was up there with the best. The sound was as good as it could be, but the quality of the delivery and energy on stage was immense, surpassing any possibility that the venue might dampen the show. It didn’t, and The Specials worked through a blistering set and blew it out the park.
The intro was a display of iconic images shone up on the back screen to the tune of a John Barry cold war classic; every politician from Thatcher to Blair and Brown got booed. As did Gazza (that image probably meant more for the English dates on the tour). There were also images highlighting some of the changes in the nation since 1979 when it all started for Terry Hall and Co.
The message was clearly obvious: how much has really changed?
The curtains opened and into the mic bellowed Neville Staple: “Al Capone’s guns don’t argue!”
And we were off!
A romping set took us through all the classics but that’s why we were there. The whole point of the exercise was to look at the juxtaposition between the lyrics of the songs and the political landscape, asking ourselves had anything actually changed but did any of it matter? And to dance our way through the memories and the muck-ups of the political system along the way.
Do The Dog, It’s Up To You, Rat Race, Monkey Man, Dawning Of a New Era, Too Much Too Young—I could name them all but it would be a futile attempt to try and recreate something that was so unique on the night.
Part of the excitement of The Specials live stage experience that eventually won the day, is the way that one simple song can elevate a crowd into a single ball of stomping energy; heads bouncing, shoulders hunched and feet furiously shifting, with Staple and Golding equally energetic on stage flanking the ever dead-pan Terry Hall. It’s his consistently straight face that helps turn up the excitement, as he surveys the bobbing heads and swaying mosh pit in front of him.
Particularly poignant was the short speech from Golding, who praised the Scots for not being involved in all the summer rioting across England, and then dedicated A Message To You, Rudy to the Scottish people.
Also great on a more personal note, was Do Nothing, a song that speaks as much to me today as a 38-year old, as it did as a young lad.
Closing after the encore with a brilliantly extended version of Ghost Town, a final encore followed with one last stomp through Little Bitch and finally, You’re Wondering Now. It was a fitting finale, brilliantly executed by the finest and most iconic ska band we are lucky enough to be able to say are still playing on the live circuit.
The Specials have achieved a lot over the years and they did it again here in Glasgow, reminding and proving to everyone that they will always beat the odds, be it poor venues and acoustics or bigotry and racism.
Where would the nation be without The Specials to remind us who we were, and exactly who we are?
Toots and the Maytals O2 Academy Glasgow 1st September, 2011
Rating: 0/5
A decent crowd turned out at the O2 Academy to pay tribute to a man whose impact on reggae music and Jamaican culture was legendary. Unfortunately, he rewarded Glasgow with a sham of a show.
In a blatant show of arrogance and more than a dash of egotism, his attention was anywhere but the show; his attitude summed up early when Toots deemed to grace us with his appearance 45 minutes late.
The tell tale signs were there: four support acts and a slow moving road crew, should have given us a hint of what was to come.
Even before he came on, Toots’ daughter was paraded in what was essentially another support act – and a bad one at that – to sing two pop tracks to an audience beginning to ask why the man had yet to show up.
When he finally appeared, with a ridiculous swagger and glowing with self-elevated importance, Glasgow had already fallen short of being impressed. Only the swinging students with a belly full of bevy in them, waved aside the negatives; nothing was going to get in the way if their goon time.
Sure, the Maytals played a lot of their hits but it was already a piss take and not in the least enjoyable because of what went on before, There was no spark, no oomph, and the vibe coming from the stage was one of: “Thanks for overpaying on tickets, now we’ll give you the bare minimum then you mortals can all fuck off.”
It’s what led to this reporter leaving half way through. As a dedicate reggae fan and a lover of Jamaican culture, it gives me no pleasure at all to say that Toots and the Maytals should give up and retire. They were an embarrassment to the music industry, a disgrace to Jamaica, and they let themselves down badly.
I doubt Toots can even remember why he wrote the songs he did, while sitting as a poor man in Kingston.
Aidan Moffat Sierra Metro Edinburgh 7th August, 2011
Rating: 3/5
Under the Detours banner of the Edinburgh Arts Festival, Aidan Moffat, played a very different kind of gig in Newhaven’s Sierra Metro art gallery, which had been specially transformed to resemble a room in a Romanian castle.
In front of only around twenty people, the venue was perfect for the grainy, dulcet tones of the former front man of cult Scottish band, Arab Strap, now iconic singer-songwriter, to perform two short sets of solo numbers either side of a lengthy experimental pre-recorded track.
The idea was to “explore the ideas of transformation and de-contextualisation, reflecting the themes of Carmen Sylva by collective Peles Empire.” Whether it achieved Moffat’s expectations is unknown, but the experience for most there wasn’t to be forgotten.
The track was a growing symphony of different levels and changing angles, that transported the audience into a new age world with a Romanian ambiance and an eerie quality.
There were crickets, jungle sounds, tube stations and people all around us, and all of it to the backdrop of a choir-like elongated version of Kung Fu Fighting, the artistic space making the experience all the more surreal and magical.
It was definitely a spectacular one-off event, and with Moffat clearly on a run of supremely juicy creativity, one wonders what could possibly next from Falkirk’s finest.
Roger Waters: The Wall
O2 Arena
London
12th May, 2011
Rating: 7/5
It was the first time The Wall had been performed in London for 29 years and 329 days. The stage was set with its familiar iconic white bricks, built up slightly at the side towards the stands and with odd fluctuations in height; a work in progress on the stage. Something would be built here tonight, the audience anticipated; something great—magnificent.
The lights dimmed and the show exploded to life. As In The Flesh crashed into life, the stage opened out as a living, breathing entity right in front of us, and with the help of the odd pyrotechnic or three, it was perhaps the greatest introduction to a gig, encompassing power, emotion and one hell of a way to grab your attention.
The Wall is a simple and brilliant concept. It is, above all, enduring and adaptable. Initially borne from the self-analysis Waters put himself through following an on-stage incident when he found himself spitting at a fan, it led him through a journey back in time, and to readdressing the pain and impact that losing his father to a war had on him.
But The Wall has now come to represent something much larger than one man’s ability to come to terms with death; an anti-war message without being too unpalatable, with its sentiment beautiful, and like the concept, the political message is a simple one.
The story is told from birth and from the eyes of the young child, Pink. Daddy vanishes—abandons him—and mother is left to be the strong influence in his life, to bring him up. But school is rough as an only child—caught in the middle between parents and teachers, and the haunting feeling that he doesn’t really understand where his father is or why he is not there now to support him.
As Pink gets older he finds fame through his music in a rock band, all the while unaware that for the larger part of his life he has been building a wall around himself, cutting himself off from reality, signified poignantly in the real-life spitting incident that Waters found himself in.
As the story unfolds of this one human’s life, we see the wall being filled in, brick by brick, Another Brick in the Wall, played as the wall builds in height and solidity.
Finally, in the final song of the first act, Goodbye Cruel World, the wall is completed, the lights go out, and the segregation of audience from the artist is complete.
It is a masterpiece of the fusion of the visual and song writing arts.
Through the entire performance, the band was faultless, and Waters’ singing, with the perfect natural tone to deliver the inner anguish of a man on the edge of despair, as though he was forever destined to write and perform The Wall, was as powerful, if not more so, than when listened to through a set of quality headphones.
Fate was on the side of the 20,000 audience for this particular show, when a light was beamed from atop the 30 foot wall and Dave Gilmour appeared unannounced to sing and play the most unmistakable of Pink Floyd riffs. Comfortably Numb, one of Floyd’s most powerful, and some would say most deeply meaningful of songs, was met with a thunderous reception. Not a nerve remained untouched and not an eye remained dry.
This would not be a Waters/Floyd show without there being visual wonders to accompany the music. Huge dangling puppetry, floating pigs over the audience, full use of every brick on the wall with all kinds of amazing artwork to tell the story while the wall was at its highest, and some breathtaking 3D effects that made it appear as though the wall itself was spinning right out into the audience during The Trial.
When the final song came and the the wall was torn down, it was a spectacular and strangely redeeming feeling that swept over the audience. We’d lived the journey with Waters, felt his pain and become emotional with joy, and then at the end we were able to relate it all back to our own lives.
The roar the met Gilmour when he took his bow at the finale must have hurt Waters on some level, but in public he acknowledged his past failures and the two men embraced—the wall knocked down a little bit more between them, one would hope. And when Nick Mason was introduced on stage as a guest of Waters, the three remaining members of Pink Floyd took a unified bow and saw the show out with Outside the Wall.
From start to finish this gig was as grand and meaningful as it could possibly be without losing anything through its sheer scale or ambition. History was made; musically and personally.
The Fruit Tree Foundation Gig
The Specials
Toots and the Maytals
