Christopher Nosnibor
In keeping with my (recent) policy of never not writing about a live act I see, I find myself presenting some diaristic notes from my break from reviewing. The plan had been to avoid emails, the Internet, people, and pretty much everything by escaping to Alnmouth for four nights. Historically, I’ve used such holidays as an opportunity to concentrate on some of my fiction or other writing, but instead, I decide to walk and read and decompress for a while. And if this reads more like an extract from my diary than an actual review, that’s because, ultimately, it is. The review element is but a prelude to a ponderance, you might say.
For context, last week marked three and half years since the death of my wife, and some proper time out with our daughter, now 14, and just broken up for the summer holidays, was what was needed. Much as I depend on my routine to an extent – which involves chipping out a review of between 600 and 1,000 words a night, when not out watching bands, it’s certainly work. And you know what they say about work… Well, they say a lot, very little of which is positive. And while we’re here, this isn’t so much a review, as a review as a pretext for an essay of reflection and contemplation.
Alnmouth, while pretty sleepy, is home to no fewer than four pubs / hotels with public bars, and having just last week written about how I’d been missing bands in bars, and having clocked the The Red Lion was hosting a live band on Friday night, decided I should pop down for a last pint or two before the train home on Saturday morning. I expected a naff covers band, and while Millennium Bug are very much a covers band, they weren’t naff. They could certainly play, at least. And their choice of songs was not the obvious.
It must be hard for musicians wanting to play round here. Newcastle has a vibrant scene with an abundance of metal and noise and all sorts, but it’s a different world out here on the coast in a small village that’s a low-key tourist destination, primarily for retirees. You’re not going to get going with a metal band here.
When I set out with Aural Aggravation, the rubric was pretty explicit: music as far from the mainstream as you could possibly get. So why am I now documenting a covers band in a pub? The musical landscape has changed in the last decade, and my focus on the grass roots has developed over this time as things have got more challenging, particularly post-COVID. And I’d contend that you can’t get much further from the mainstream than this.
They’re playing ‘When You Say Nothing At All’ off the bat – as they say. It’s a shit cliché. Most cliché are, though. They forewarn that their set will consist of ‘cheesy nineties and noughties pop songs’, and they’re not kidding. The trio, consisting of acoustic guitar, bass, and minimal drum kit make their way through ‘I Want it That Way’ which I’ve always jokingly said was a song about anal sex, but, on reflection, may be about pegging, and ‘I Miss You’ by Lisa Loeb. They perform a pretty spirited and harmony-laden rendition of ‘Torn’, a passable take on ‘Unwritten’, and a killer version of ‘Genie in a Bottle’ follow. Cher’s ‘Life After Love’ actually sounds better as an acoustic song without the autotune.
So what’s the thrust here? They’re three forty-something guys playing a local village pub against a barrage of chatter. The applause starts off strong, but diminishes after about three songs as the punters lose interest and the music falls to background. It’s nothing like the volume of talk when I saw BRMC in Leeds last December, but it’s a tough gig. And yet they take it in their stride. No strops, no huffs. It’s simply the gig. And while many musicians aspire to supposedly greater things, they’re clearly enjoying doing this – and when it’s so easy to give up doing anything outside dayjob and family life and whatever, this is certainly better than that.
It’s easy to denigrate this level of the music scene, a level which exists outside of the industry. But I’d put this above tribute acts. They’re not pretending to be another band or cashing in on another name, and in many respects, this kind of live music is foundational. The first gigs I ever saw, when I was probably thirteen or so, were covers bands playing in pubs in Lincoln.
Ultimately, I have no real point, no angle, beyond this being a slice of life, and that it’s good to hear live music in even the most rural of settings.
Aural Aggravation 