His Lordship
His Lordship commanding the stage from the outset and didn't let go, barely stopping for breath in between songs. Their set was over and done with in less than an hour, but was packed so full that I don’t think anyone felt short changed. They may have felt like a lie down and a rest, perhaps, not short changed.
Mark Stimpson
A couple of years ago, I stumbled across a band at the Red Rooster festival, although assailed by this extraordinary duo might be a better phrase. Playing mid-afternoon, I knew nothing about them and had there been a wider choice at the festival, I might well have been somewhere else. They were nothing less than astonishing. With a fury and passion reminiscent of seventies Dr Feelgood, they tore up the stage with a frenzied set that promised great things to come. Little wonder they are back again this year, promoted to a headline slot. I dare say I'll very cheering them on when they appear, but unwilling to wait until June, I grabbed the chance to catch up with them at the Arts Centre.
Beforehand, we had a genuine treat offered up in the shape of Us, a Finnish band that's been around for longer than their support slot might suggest. Fronted by Teo Hirvonen, they ripped into an all too brief half hour slot with the confidence and enthusiasm of a band determined to make their mark. I can't know how well acquainted the Finnish are with the glory days of Southend's pub rock scene of yesteryear, but Feelgood sprung to mind again, along with the likes of Eddie and the Hot Rods, Mickey Jupp and Nick Lowe – I’m guessing they’ve got an Essex based record collection to rival that of the sadly defunct Strypes. The glorious cacophony the band produced had Hirvonen howling away for most of the set, though just when you felt you had a handle on their sound, out popped something akin to Bob Dylan fronting a punk band - and who wouldn't pay good money to hear that?
US
US
I’m in danger of repeating myself, but Feelgood really did return to my mind when His Lordship took to the stage, though it was more the energy and attitude of the grand daddies of British pub rock than the sound that struck a chord. Let’s just say that if Wilko Johnson and Lee Brilleaux had ever produced a love child, I’m confident he'd have strutted his stuff like James Walbourne. Walbourne heralds from the Pretenders, and his drumming partner Kristoffer Sonne has a similarly lustrous pedigree, so perhaps it’s no surprise that they are so good at what they do. They commanding the stage from the outset and didn't let go, barely stopping for breath in between songs. Their set was over and done with in less than an hour, but was packed so full that I don’t think anyone felt short changed. They may have felt like a lie down and a rest, perhaps, not short changed.
His Lordship
His Lordship
All Cranked Up got an early airing before the crowd pleasing chant of I’m So Bored Of Being Bored cut in. The incessant grind of Buzzkill looked to be a promising choice of single, while Jackie Works ForThe NHS pushed against an open door of a sympathetic audience. Rock Fall Echo Dust and Dry Boy strayed into rockabilly territory, contrasting sharply with the slow burn of showstopping The Repenter. After some pleasantries regarding Norwich – could have been twaddle, I suppose, but seemed sincere – they band took a final bow with a superfast version of Billy Lee Riley’s classic Red Hot.
His Lordship
I should add that, on this occasion, they were joined on stage by bassist Dave Page, and he easily earned his keep. That said, I confess to feeling a little ambivalent about the addition of bass. Objectively he rounded out the sound nicely, allowing the band to offer up a fuller and more varied set. For me, however, it was at a cost. The raw, unapologetic racket I'd heard at Rooster had a manic ferocity that set the duo apart. It’s a minor quibble. Had I not seen them as a duo, I'd be none the wiser, and to be clear this was still a fabulous evening that flew by, but I do hope the band doesn't smooth off too many rough edges in the pursuit of musical excellence. A case in point is the lunatic, loud-hailer assisted My Brother Is An Only Child, performed by Sonne while perched precariously atop his drum kit. No one could seriously rate it superior to the superb instrumental Sleepwalk that followed, but it’s nonetheless the moment I remember most fondly.
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