Jenny Eclair, Chorley Little Theatre, 5 November 2012

Jenny Eclair's Eclarious tour brought her back to Chorley Little Theatre for the second time in under two years.  She could sell out bigger venues but would appear to like the intimacy that Chorley's home of comedy provides.

After a nervous start, in which her delivery was noticably rushed, she settled into her stride.  She gave us a taste of her novel, which was nothing more than middle age porn with its references to sumptuous furniture, before prowling the stage and launching into an exploration of the issues facing women of a certain age.

Eclair is from Lytham St Annes, and whilst her familiarity with the North West is welcome, as the audience was immediately able to picture her portrayal of her no nonsense mother, the story about what she got up to in the bus shelter in Lytham is less so. How she got such big biceps is a gag that was told on her last visit and was one of several jokes that she told last time she played Chorley and which should have been rested.

She was funnier with her newer material, with much of her act focused on the perils of being over 50, whether that is lack of bladder control or having to hold onto one's breasts when running to stop them flopping about.  She is unimpressed with Madonna's propensity to flash her nipples when other women of a similar age are more inclined to slump on the sofa drooling biscuit crumbs from their mouth.

Jenny doesn't really do sex, and doesn't know why her partner Geoff is still with her given her overall decrepitude.  Her preoccupation is with how her body, and those of all women of her age, is changing, whether it's her hair falling out or the shape of her knees.  These are revealed to a disbelieving audience to be rather, er, manly.

Eclair does not have any pretensions. At home she prefers to spend the day in her night dress if she can, and doesn't like unannounced casual visitors because it means she has to put her clothes on when she could simply stay in her knickers. Small children are particularly unwelcome because of their tendency to make a mess.

Eclair attracts a predominantly female audience - 90% of the Chorley Little Theatre crowd were women - and they loved her take on post menopausal life.  But the men too were laughing out loud.

Another sell out gig at Chorley Little Theatre and a happy comedy audience.

The Rolling Stones, O2 Arena, London, 25 September 2012

By rights the Rolling Stones should be part of a Sixties nostalgia package, pitching up at Preston Guildhall once a year and running through their number one hits in a 20 minute slot before making way for Gerry and the Pacemakers or Herman's Hermits. Instead they are charging £375 for tickets at the O2 in Greenwich, which singer Mick Jagger wryly noted isn't that far from Dartford, where they started out fifty years ago.
Their ticket prices generated headlines when they were announced, and the Stones have always been about headlines, whether it's drug busts or inappropriate use of a Mars bar. And the reason why they're not relegated to touring as a Sixties act in municipal venues across suburban England but can still sell out arenas around the globe is because they have a treasure trove of rock classics and a mastery of the craft of putting on a rock show that few bands can match.They also, despite their ages, love what they do. Guitarists Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood were in fine fettle and drummer Charlie Watts, resplendent in white tee shirt, was captured on the big screen that was projected behind the stage grinning from ear to ear.

The band's delight at being back on stage shone through in their performance. From the opening bars of their second ever single I Wanna Be Your Man, written for them by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, through to a thunderous Jumping Jack Flash, the band were on fire. Hits from Get Off My Cloud and It's All Over Now through to Start Me Up and a note perfect Brown Sugar came in wave after wave, reminding the audience that as well as being rock's perennial bad boys the Rolling Stones have recorded a juke box full of great songs.
But they also have a slew of album tracks from the late sixties and early seventies on which their musical legend is built and Wild Horses, Gimme Shelter and Sympathy for the Devil all get an outing as does a pulsating Midnight Rambler with Mick Taylor, who is officially the only past or present member of the Stones to look more like a building labourer than a rock star, making a guest appearance on lead guitar and stalking Jagger across the stage.

Honky Tonk Women, Miss You and a Bill Wyman backed It's Only Rock'n'Roll added to the occasion, the group knowing exactly which buttons to push to get the audience up dancing and singing along.

The highlight of the show was undoubtedly the encore, with the anthemic You Can't Always Get What You Want played to the accompaniment of a full choir sending a collective shiver down the spine of the audience. Were the ticket prices outrageous? Yes. Did the band give value for money? Yes. Can you put a price on seeing the greatest rock'n'roll band in the world for what could be the (very) last time? Absolutely not.

At the end, Mick Jagger stayed on stage bowing to the audience long after the rest of the band had left, so perhaps this really is the last time and perhaps the Stones will finally just make headlines for what they'll always be remembered for - their music.

The Wedding Present, The Ritz, Manchester, 9 November 2012

The Wedding Present were once termed an indie band.  But whilst they might be 'semi legendary', as self effacing main man David Gedge introduced them, the 'indie' label hardly seems appropriate for an act whose three guitarists are at one point all facing their amps and trying to extract maximum feedback from their instruments.  And I was reminded, as Gedge closed their 90 minute set by wringing one last riff out of his guitar with two broken strings flapping in the breeze, of no less a comparator than Neil Young.  The hair may be shorter but the aural barrage is pure grunge.  Maybe the Godfather of Indie and the Godfather of Grunge should talk.

The gig was showcasing the band's Seamonsters album, which is twenty years old.  Personally, I don't think playing an album in its entirety and in the order the tracks originally appeared works as a device.  Heather would make it into my all time fave Wedding Present tunes.  Some of the other things on the album frankly wouldn't, and even if I was a big fan of Seamonsters I'd prefer the tracks to be sprinkled around the set.  Surely part of the fun is not knowing which songs that a band with a back catalogue stretching back more than 25 years is going to spring on an audience?

That criticism apart, it was a great gig and the large audience (large describes the kind of middle aged man who was a skinny indie kid 25 years ago) had a good time.  Before reaching the main course of Seamonsters, the band served up a series of starters , with Girl From The DDR off their last album Valentina and various other delights including Mars Sparkles Down On Me, the delectable Sports Car and the ever dependable My Favourite Dress.

The show was over too quick and, as always with Mr Gedge, there was no encore.  One day perhaps he will surprise the audience at the end of a concert by popping up back before the microphone instead of at the merchandise stall.  I went home clutching my newly purchased Live 1991 CD, which features tracks from Seamonsters played out of sequence to how they appear on the original studio album, and listened to Heather all over again.  Loud!

Rob Rouse, Chorley Little Theatre, 10 November 2012

Being related to a comedian can't be easy.  Les Dawson's mother-in-law was the butt of many of his jokes, and stand ups who use observational material will inevitably be drawn to the people around them as subjects.

It seems doubtful that Mrs Rob Rouse realised that her bladder and bowel movements were going to feature quite so prominently in his act when she first started dating the comedian, who was visiting Chorley Little Theatre on his 'Life Sentences' tour.  Not that Mrs Rouse is the only member of the household whose toilet habits get a mention since the bowel movements of Rouse, his children and one of their friends all get discussed.

Chorley Little Theatre was barely half full for this exploration of the Rouse family's bodily functions, but those audience members who came wrapped in their coats to brave the slightly chilly temperature were soon warmed by the laughter Rouse generated.

After an introductory joke about Saturday evenings being a comedian's Monday morning and how it was important not to dive straight into work in case you make a mistake such as 'Chorley police tasering a blind man with a white stick', Rouse turned to his main themes for the evening.

One was his four year old son, who features heavily in Rouse's act, whether it's the tale of him appearing at his father's bedside at 5.30am to begin the endless stream of questions that a growing young mind needs answering or bursting into the lavatory with his potty to share an intimate moment with Dad and let the postman see the two of them having a bowel movement.

Rouse's at the time unborn daughter also features, with the effect of her her penchant for poking his heavily pregnant wife's bladder acted out on stage.  Her birth at home is also described in graphic detail, and one hopes that Mrs Rouse was given the opportunity to vet the material before her husband performed it to a wider audience.

Life as a parent is acutely observed, with his son's testing of his father's patience by prodding a lump of cheese with his finger bringing flashbacks for anyone who has raised a toddler.

A member of the audience was invited to drink a cup of tea that may have been made with Rouse's wife's breast milk ('but to tell you the truth I really can't remember') and sportingly took up the challenge, while the audience's reaction to the idea was 'milked' for all that it was worth.

Rouse is witty, filthy and thoroughly engaging as a comedian but definitely not for the under 16s, and you probably wouldn't want to be sat next to your gran at a Rob Rouse show either.  He wasn't fazed by the sparse audience and created an intimate atmosphere with his warm manner and enthusiastic way in which he threw himself around.  (For a 'stand up', he spent quite a proportion of his act on the floor.

The Chorley gig was filmed for a DVD and audience members present on the night have been promised a free copy.  When they drop through the letterbox it'll be a chance to show their comedy loving friends who decided to give the show a miss that this genuinely funny man deserves a bigger audience.  And a chance for Mrs Rouse to consider whether she wants her husband in the delivery room if she chooses to have another baby.

Rolling Stones - Crossfire Hurricane

Crossfire Hurricane
Director:  Brett Morgen
Cert 15

Crossfire Hurricane, the new documentary about the Rolling Stones, premiered at 300 cinemas worldwide including The Odeon, Preston.

It is difficult to find something new to say about a band which has probably featured in more books, magazine articles and TV programmes than any other.  But director Brett Morgen has managed it in this fasicinating trawl through the vaults of TV stations across the world.

Culled from TV and cinema footage, much of which is previously unseen or unshown since it was first broadcast, the film is both a treasure trove for hardened Stones followers and an education in the band’s history for the uninitiated.

The heavy bias towards the 1960s reveals the chaos of the early days of the Stones, when the band strummed Popeye The Sailor Man because the girls at their concerts screamed so loudly that the audience could not hear a note that was being played.  So too are the darker days of the group, including their descent into serious drug abuse in the late 1960s, with the death of guitarist and founder member Brian Jones touchingly remembered.

The horror of the Altamont concert, when an audience member was stabbed to death by the Hells Angels hired by the band to provide security at the gig, and guitarist Keith Richards' arrest for heroin possession by the Canadian police in 1976, are also examined in detail, giving a warts'n'all picture of the self styled greatest rock'n'roll band in the world.

The current day opinions of the band are voiced over the soundtrack, interspersed with the more youthful images of Mick Jagger, Keith Richards et al, and only at the very end - with an outtake from Martin Scorcese’s Shine A Light which featured the band in concert in 2008 - do we get to see the wrinkled old rockers in anything like their present state.

What carries the film along is the music, from Route 66 by way of I Can't Get No Satisfaction and Honky Tonk Women through to Miss You, with contemporary footage of the band performing numbers on TV shows that in some cases has not seen the light of day in more than 40 years.

Crossfire Hurricane will be available on DVD before Christmas.  Stones fans unable to make it to view the film on the big screen should start writing that letter to Santa now.

Greg Davies, Chorley Little Theatre, 6th October 2012

Greg Davies is a big man, as he was happy to admit to a packed Chorley Little Theatre when his The Back Of My Mum's Head show rolled into town.  Describing his body shape as resembling that carved by a four year old from a big piece of ham, he confided to the audience that the waistband in his underpants had snapped before he came on stage and that, whilst we might not witness the event, his underpants might fall down inside his jeans at some point in the evening.  Being so large had a number of other drawbacks, including the fact that he'd destroyed two toilets at home in one day.

Having shared his wardrobe malfunction secret, and engagingly got the audience on his side, this former teacher (perhaps best known for playing the teacher Mr Gilbert in The Inbetweeners) revealed his agenda for the evening, helpfully set out on a flip chart.  Davies did not go so far as to tell the crowd when they should laugh but such information would anyway have been superfluous, as they were laughing from start to finish.

The show was a well paced mix of story telling and audience interaction, with Davies' observational comedy taking random incidents in his life and weaving a narrative from them, such as the east London taxi driver who called Davies 'Big Bird' on picking up his fare and, having riled his passenger from the off, then got into an argument with him about what the ingredients of a pie are.  'It's pie, isn't it?'

Davies' top five involuntary noises, with the Pick of the Pops theme tune helpfully hummed by the audience, included a reference to a friend caught spying on his sunbathing neighbour by his monster of a wife.  Davies disguised 'Darren's' real identity to spare his embarrassment only to accidentally blurt out his real name, which is now known only to Davies and 250 theatregoers and staff.  Apart from the laugh it got, the mistake was ironic since Davies' theme was how adults need to censor what they're thinking in a way that children don't.

Davies' parents feature in much of his material, with his mother's concern about Davies being bitten by a fish whilst he was up a mountain so baffling to him that he produced a script so that the audience could help him act out the telephone conversation he had with her and his father.  His mother's 'it's not normal' refrain was reflected back by Davies to highlight how everyone says or thinks things that perhaps they shouldn't.  His friend Nicky's confession at a university Truth and Dare party that he'd fondled his sleeping grandmother's breasts was one example, whilst the hospital consultant asking Davies if there was going to be another series of The Inbetweeners whilst performing a cystoscopy on him was another.

Davies tells a story with a suitably conspiratorial air.  His family's camper van being followed through the American countryside at night with his parents terrified they are about to be killed only for Davies' then 12 year old sister to save the day by hanging out of the back door waving a plastic machine gun to scare their pursuers away has everyone on the edge of their seats, intrigued and amused.

The show concluded with the audience joining Davies on his guitar singing a song about a bonsai tree called 'I wish I was a bonsai tree'.  Music and comedy does not always work, but as a means of concluding a very funny set Davies succeeded in creating the sense of a camp fire singalong and making the audience feel they had been part of something special.

Davies' support was Ed Petrie, better known to younger readers as a presenter on BBC children's television shows.  Petrie suggested he had been asked rather at the last minute to accompany Davies on the tour, a statement which was supported by a short and slightly stumbling set that concluded in him forgetting his last joke.  The Chorley audience gave him a sympathetic hearing but the belly laughs were reserved for Davies.

Dexy's, Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, Friday 21st September 2012

A Dexy’s concert attracts an interesting mixture of mainly older audience goers, reflecting the fact that the band that was once Dexy’s Midnight Runners were big in the 1980s.  Dexy’s have been through innumerable line up changes (Wikipedia lists 30 current or past band members) but at its heart is Kevin Rowland, backed by whichever set of musicians he has enlisted to provide the silky texture to underscore one of Britain's finest vocalists.

Rowland is a tortured musical genius who over the years has enjoyed a difficult relationship with critics, fellow band members and his wardrobe.  In response, he attracts a small but devout following that includes middle aged soul boys wearing flat caps, turned up jeans and leather soled shoes.

The show starts with new album One Day I’m Going To Soar.  Played in its entirety, it does not make things easy for the non believer.  Audiences wanting the greatest hits do not always appreciate having to sit through unfamiliar concept albums, as bands going back to The Who playing Tommy in the 1960s have found, and One Day is not a comfortable first listen.  With its spoken word sections and confessional tone, the album is far from uplifting material.  As Rowland says in new song It’s Okay John Joe ‘I don’t show much of myself in life, but in my music I tend to put it all in.’

Things are not helped by the vocal being slightly muffled in parts and a reverential atmosphere descends.  There is little attempt to build a rapport with the audience and conversation is restricted to a few thank yous, reflecting Rowland’s shyness.  But there are strong songs on the new album, and if there was any justice in the world the single She Got A Wiggle would be blaring out of radios everywhere.

The lack of audience interaction continues once the new album is dispensed with, with one of the band appearing dressed as a 1950s police sergeant for inter song banter with Rowland.  It’s a pre rehearsed device that could have been insensitive in the light of the shooting of the two Manchester police officers but as a means of setting up This Is What She’s Like and Tell Me When My Light Turns Green it works, with the latter number proving to be the highlight of the show.

Rowland finally plays one of his trio of instantly recognisable hits with world wide chart topper Eileen.  Sadly fellow number one single Geno, the eminently singalongable Jackie Wilson Said and other songs that got radio play in the band’s heyday do not get an airing.

Despite this, by the end most of the audience is on its feet, waving hands in the air and dancing in their seats.  The faithful have been rewarded.  With less emphasis on the new album and a better selection of songs from a strong back catalogue, the non believers might have been dancing from earlier on in the show too.