PHEW! WOTTA SCORCHER!
A house, a tree, a roundabout, another roundabout, a shit-awful bus shelter, another roundabout, a real trendy fire station with knackered-looking fire engines.
Such was the view as our coach wound its way around Milton Keynes to deliver us to the site of Rock the Bowl '91, a day that held some surprises, plenty of sunshine, buckets of brilliant music, and of course, alcoholic beverages (thank you, Polydor, A&M, and Warners).
LITTLE ANGELS
After months of speculative hype, here we were standing like lemons in a field ready to witness Little Angels first British outdoor festival appearance (indeed, their first outdoor festival full stop) to an audience of 60,000 sun-dazed, pissed-up punters, by far the largest crowd they've ever played to.
There were great expectations about this, their opening slot on the bill, seeing that THUNDER had opened Donington last year and took the day for themselves. So the pressure was on for the 'Angelic' ones to do the same here.
Just as the great Milton Keynes concrete clock hit 3pm, those horny red devils, Little Angels, took to the stage amidst the shrieks of girlies wetting themselves at the sight of Toby Jepson, bedecked in shrink-wrapped shorts and ripped T-shirt.
The throbbing intro to "She's a Little Angel" boomed out of the virginal PA system as 'crystal clear' as a hippopotamus fart in a goldfish bowl. Thus the poetic subtleties of "Kicking up Dust," "I Ain't Gonna Cry," and "Radical Your Love" were all lost in the maze while the sing-along punch of "Young Gods," "Products," and "Boneyard" failed to cut any immediate atmosphere. Sure, those in front of the stage were aptly out of their heads, but the majority were staying pretty safe. I'm still convinced that they'd have been better off opening at Donington.
Inevitably, the frustration came out into the open at the end of their set during a cover of THE WHO's "My Generation" when axeman Bruce decided he'd had enough and he proceeded to smash up his guitar. The rest of the band followed suit and joined in by thrashing anything they could lay their hands on... they huffed and they puffed but failed to blow the house down. A lack of outdoor live experience and the fact that the band's sound was somewhat muffled didn't allow them the room they needed to hit the sixes.
"We'll be headlining here in a couple of years," snarled Toby as the 'best of British' hit the decks for the 'warm wet circles' of their company's beer tent backstage. (Mark Crampton)
Inevitably, the frustration came out into the open at the end of their set during a cover of THE WHO's "My Generation" when axeman Bruce decided he'd had enough and he proceeded to smash up his guitar. The rest of the band followed suit and joined in by thrashing anything they could lay their hands on... they huffed and they puffed but failed to blow the house down. A lack of outdoor live experience and the fact that the band's sound was somewhat muffled didn't allow them the room they needed to hit the sixes.
"We'll be headlining here in a couple of years," snarled Toby as the 'best of British' hit the decks for the 'warm wet circles' of their company's beer tent backstage. (Mark Crampton)
THUNDER
The weather forecast was for thundery showers, but the only thunder in evidence on what will doubtless be one of the most perfect days of this summer came from Messrs Bowes, Morley, James, Lockhurst and Matthews. Louder than the great God Thor himself, Thunder worked hard during their share of the limelight and were rewarded by a rousing reception from the 60,000 strong crowd.
Casting aside climatic conditions, they did not deliver one of their most captivating performances, although in the case of these chaps, even an average show is still pretty damn good. Beginning with "Flawed to Perfection," the Sons of Thor filled their allotted 60 minutes with the best of their new LP, Backstreet Symphony, plus a few new tunes. Danny's rapport with the crowd was as chatty as ever, and after a sadly distorted version of "Englishman on Holiday," the boys were brought to a standstill by the rowdy punters chanting, "'ere we go."
Straining on tiptoes in order to see 'em from my centre bowl position, I was delighted by the aforementioned new numbers executed about midway through their set, these being "Better Man," an acoustic ballad performed by the chaps seated centre stage on stools. The second of the newies came in the shape of "Does It Feel Like Love," a typical Thunder workout providing an assurance of better things to come on their next recording, whenever that may be.
Naturally, their considerable following kept up the vocal support on "Dirty Love" and "Backstreet Symphony," and 'Harry' took to the stage on a bike sporting a false beard (could he be taking the proverbial out of the headliners?). The one thing that wasn't consistent for them was the sound, resulting in a passing storm rather than a full-blowing electrical maelstrom. (Lyn Guy)
Casting aside climatic conditions, they did not deliver one of their most captivating performances, although in the case of these chaps, even an average show is still pretty damn good. Beginning with "Flawed to Perfection," the Sons of Thor filled their allotted 60 minutes with the best of their new LP, Backstreet Symphony, plus a few new tunes. Danny's rapport with the crowd was as chatty as ever, and after a sadly distorted version of "Englishman on Holiday," the boys were brought to a standstill by the rowdy punters chanting, "'ere we go."
Straining on tiptoes in order to see 'em from my centre bowl position, I was delighted by the aforementioned new numbers executed about midway through their set, these being "Better Man," an acoustic ballad performed by the chaps seated centre stage on stools. The second of the newies came in the shape of "Does It Feel Like Love," a typical Thunder workout providing an assurance of better things to come on their next recording, whenever that may be.
Naturally, their considerable following kept up the vocal support on "Dirty Love" and "Backstreet Symphony," and 'Harry' took to the stage on a bike sporting a false beard (could he be taking the proverbial out of the headliners?). The one thing that wasn't consistent for them was the sound, resulting in a passing storm rather than a full-blowing electrical maelstrom. (Lyn Guy)
THE LAW
Backstage, the rumours were flying faster than a stealth bomber that The Law weren't going to appear, but the gossip fell flat on its face when they proceeded to turn the Bowl on its head.
A minimum of fuss saw "For a Little Ride" rise triumphantly from the stage. "Stone Cold" followed, emphasising the point that this band isn't one to throw themselves around. Paul Rodgers, simply in jeans, white shirt and waistcoat attire, proved that he still has an incredible vocal talent, despite what anyone might think.
"This is our theme tune," he announces, as they go into "Laying down the Law." I don't know whether it was the sun of Thunder's disappointed set, but the crowd was dead.
It's not exactly cool to introduce your song as been written by CHRIS REA, but "Stone" was heavier, more vibrant live, as was all the material that they aired during their set. But still, the crowd failed to rise to the occasion.
"What do you think of it so far?" asked Rodgers, only to be rebuffed by apathy.
"Nature of the Beast," a BRYAN ADAMS-penned number, saw a bit more of a response. Maybe people were anticipating something. Then suddenly the killer punch was delivered with "Can't get Enough." Rodgers smiled. Finally people were up on their feet, but there was more to come, the FREE classic "All Right Now" took us back to yesteryear and life pumped through both young and old, smiles lighting their faces, even the ones in the queue for the beer tent.
They may have been gate-crashers to this event but The Law damn near stole the show. (Joe Mackett)
BRYAN ADAMS
T'was, or should that be, t'is the summer of 91 that saw the return of Bryan Adams, and what a return! Backed by his original watertight three-piece, he cracked his way through a set of his old familiar songs just to regain a common ground with the audience that had gathered to witness what has got to be one of the best festivals in a long time.
He kicked in with, "She's Only Happy," then drew us towards him gradually, offering "The Kids Wanna Rock" and "It's Only Love." Needless to say, we were eating out of his hand by the time "Hearts On Fire" cartwheeled its way out of the sound system. About this time, the sun had really begun to bite my neck, but I held out. You know what they say, "Where there's no sense, there's no feeling."
This was actually Bryan's first outdoor gig in the UK. How do I know? Because he told us. What do you think, I research this stuff? The only criticism that I would give is that he played it a little too safe in that I was hoping we would get a trip through the round window to check out some of his new material. But at least he did play his new single, "Everything I Do," which is now, at time of going to press, his biggest British hit to date.
"Heaven" and "Run To You" had me singing like an out-of-tune engine, but, shit, I was having such a good time, along with the rest of the thousand million odd that had converged on the Bowl (with the exception of the chap wandering to the first aid tent nursing a split lip),
As the smell of freshly lit hash wafted through the air Bry teased the crowd with "Summer of 69," then launched into "I need somebody." Off I went again, crooning like a moose. Needless to say, he left the stage to applause that I'm sure caused some little boffin somewhere to poo his drawers as the needle on the Richter scale registered the response.
A three-song encore turned up the heat with "One Night Love Affair," "Long Gone," and of course "Summer of 69," the intro to which comprised of Brian Adams on guitar, the entire audience on vocals. This guy is definitely back. (Peter Grant)
ZZ TOP
As the Tres Hombres took to the stage, the mulish sun hung in the air, determined to get a peek at tonight's headliners, who stoked the multitude with "Planet of Women." The perfect setting for some down-home Texan boogie was to have its ultimate climax, "Sleeping Bag," "Waiting For the Bus," "Jesus Just Left Chicago," "Got Me Under Pressure," yee-haw!
Twenty-two cuts in all, derived from their illustrious ten album career, Billy Gibbons and Dusty Hill's classic cool was choreographed to perfection as their guitars dipped and swung low in the 'lap of luxury.' Only once was there a moment of panic as the PA cut rough for a second.
Whoa, thar goes "Gimme All Your Lovin'" reet thar. Say, ain't that "Heard It On The X" over yonder? As the temperature reaches boiling point, the Tops turn it down a notch as "2000 Blues" segues into "Blue Jean Blues."
With the great orb in the sky finally asleep, the huge Recycler stage really comes to life. Its junkyard trickery, allowing the bearded ones a breather. Yo, what's this? Back on stage in bumper cars? Exiting the vehicles, resplendent in new suits. There's only one track, hell yeah. "Sharp Dressed Man" an' don't it just hit the spot?
If that didn't get you, then "Legs" certainly did, y'all. Those gals, those huge video screens. My head's in Mississippi, all right. If these guys are lip-syncing as accused by THE BLACK CROWES, you sure as hell can't tell.
But yeah, can't leave a longhorn out to stew. You've got to nail the critter. "Tube Snake Boogie" sees the barbies alight. "La Grange" saw the sporadic hoedowns breaking out in contagious fashion. Finally, finally, "Tush" brings it all down. Y'all pass me the steak n' bourbon, duck walking all the way home. (Joe Mackett)
Live Pix Paul Smith
Riff Raff
August 1991
But yeah, can't leave a longhorn out to stew. You've got to nail the critter. "Tube Snake Boogie" sees the barbies alight. "La Grange" saw the sporadic hoedowns breaking out in contagious fashion. Finally, finally, "Tush" brings it all down. Y'all pass me the steak n' bourbon, duck walking all the way home. (Joe Mackett)
Live Pix Paul Smith
Riff Raff
August 1991
0 comments:
Post a Comment