The Next Big Thing

So yeah, Friday 13th, a day generally synonymous with bad things, well not for me…
Southern Culture On The Skids brought good vibes via their salacious, Creedence-kissed surfatronic sounds and to be honest, if I was flush, I’d be on the bloody train to see them in Newcastle tonight also.

They played in the basement club of Oran Mor, a new facility on the corner of Byres and Great Western Road. It’s a cracking venue, great sightlines, a dancefloor(!) and no overbearing security drongos. OK so everybody had to be out by 10.30pm to make way for the disco but even that was handled with some decorum. Let’s hope this catches on. And the crowd, where the hell are all these people when the other to gigs are on. It was a totally mixed audience, all completely up for whatever was going down. It reminded me of a show Ben Vaughn did at Maryhill Community Centre, an off kilter sock-hop kinda deal, a few, too many years ago. Anyways – I’d take going out lessons if I could be assured that people would behave in this disorderly orderly fashion. And Rick Miller reminded me of a cross between Lou Whitney and the aforementioned BV in spirit. He’s a cool rockin’ daddy. Dave Hartman hits those pots and pans bloody had for just being a wee fella and Ms Mary Huff kept the whole undertow shaken and not a little stirred. The sound was fantastic too. What the chuff is wrong with this picture? You reckon I mighta dreamt it? Mickey Primeval reckons it might be a “west end thing”, well whatever – it was sight to hear and behold. It’s not every night you can say you went out and got hit square, goodnaturedly, in the chest by a piece of chicken.

This show was part of BIG BIG COUNTRY the annual celebration of roots music curated by Billy Kelly. He also puts together BIG BIG WORLD in October. Now I wonder if he’d be interested in a certain Croatian Surf (and so much beyond) combo?

In addition to all this, Mr Cruickshank had scored me a gem during his recent retreat to St. Andrews, a place not generally known for it’s services to record hunting. I was graced with a copy of The Jerry Blavatt TV Song Storybook. Saints bleedin’ preserve me. This brings us back to Ben again and I wonder if he’ll ever finish his Geatordoc? It's nearly a year since our shimmy down the Jersey Shore to catch The Geator in his regular habitat and this album brought it all back. The booklet is an unmitigated work of art.

So there you have it troops, it's all good! At least for the next 36 hours or so…