It seems so long ago now that I received an e-mail from Brian asking if I was going to The Stranglers’ gig in Belfast. What? When? The Belsonic/Belfast Live gig in Custom House Square supporting Stiff Little F**kers ‘40th Homecoming’ gig. Eh?? Initially I thought he was winding me up, as there was nothing officially released but, although he was supposed to keep it under his hat, a certain person who couldn’t hold his own water, had told Brian all about it. I still wasn’t 100% convinced but after a brief message to ‘da main man’ (who wouldn’t/couldn’t confirm it) but finished his reply with “I’ll see you in Belfast” – I knew my band were coming back once more for a hometown gig.
I was asked to keep the news under my hat – man, that was a long month – trying to curtail letting people know. I knew friends would want to be on the ball booking flights and accommodation, but once you lose any trust then there is no getting back from that. So I held my tongue and awaited the official announcement coming through. The day the declaration was released I was in work and my mobile phone went into overdrive – calls, texts and Facebook messages were turning the office into a cacophony of ringtones, beeps and bleeps as people were contacting me to either ask if I’d heard about the gig or asking to be put up over the weekend. It got so bad my manager called me into her office and told me to turn my feckin’ phone off!! Due to the number of calls I was receiving asking to stay at my gaff, the only truly fair way was to run a first come, first served rule and so by about 10:00 that morning the spare room was allocated, the box room had another body kipping there and lastly the sofa got nabbed by another potential visitor.
The day the tickets went on sale I was second in the queue of my local Ticketmaster outlet – bugger that on-line bullshit – and managed to purchase my tickets with relative ease. Safely tucked away until August, the excitement started as Facebook and various other social media platforms went into overdrive as the talk amongst the Strangler fans (and I’m sure among those deluded Finger Fans too) was all about the upcoming Belfast Bank Holiday weekend do.
Before then however, there were the cancelled May West Festival in Glasgow – a non-gig gathering ensued in The Crystal Palace, the Godiva Festival in Coventry – a sun-drenched outdoor bash with the Family and lastly the misnamed Always The Sun Festival in Hull – a rain-sodden affair with the usual suspects in attendance. Three very different social gatherings, but connected by the common Strangler vibe.
The Thursday before the weekend saw me running round like a black-arsed fly, readying myself for the incoming invasion – sorting out bedding, towels, food (and drink!!) for my guests and generally getting the place into some sort of semi-presentable order. I made sure my records were in prime condition for the upcoming inspection – and assembling the ‘vinyl’ detector machine around the front door to prevent any ‘stray’ items which may accidently fall into a random suitcase (or two!!) being sneaked from the premises. On Friday afternoon the taxi pulled up outside my apartment and deposited four bodies on my doorstep. Meeted (sic) and greeted – I invite the waifs inside and so the party has truly started. Once settled, we begin the ‘tour’ of my Strangler Collection – records visually devoured, followed by magazines, photos, bootleg tapes and CDs, tickets, scrapbooks – all eagerly fawned over – all set back in their place (as the time-honoured practice of vinyl and memorabilia collectors the world over adhere to). However, few would drop their Raven pic disc on the floor and have to chase it as it rolled on it’s edge across the room!! EEK!! A phone call from Billy – apologising for a mix-up in accommodation – leaves the sofa body-free. With a selection of DVDs to peruse – varying from The Stranglers, Good Vibrations, Ulster Punk and beyond (even some SLF god forbid!!) – we begin the drinking early – stomachs properly prepared for the liquid onslaught by a plate full of home-cooked Champ (pork sausages and onion gravy for sides – as and if required).
Saturday (gig day) saw us arise early(!!) and dander up to the crossroads for an Ulster Fry in my local ‘not-quite a greasy spoon’ cafe (again preparing the gastro-intestinal system for another session of alcohol consumption). Back to the flat until we are off into town to meet up with the other revellers-in-black – destination The Crown Bar (approved meeting place) and a pub crawl to McHugh’s Bar situated conveniently opposite the gig itself. First ‘family’ we meet are Pat and Dave and soon we are seated in a corner booth recently vacated by the Women’s Rugby fans. As we chatted, further relations-in-black began to arrive – Billy, Mark, Bryan, Pete, Dave, and Paul – as a bigger booth became available, which was duly appropriated, however it was still too small for everyone as John & Pud, Gareth and Za had also made an appearance. Bar staff in the Crown were undermanned and so we decided to move next door into Robinsons which although easier to get served and more space to stand – there were still some customer service issues!!
More fansinblack were beginning to gather, whilst others migrated from next door – Dave, Keith, The Owens and Taylors, Elaine, Rob and Sarah et al arrived (and during all this, one of the crowd went AWOL!!) The craic and banter were to the fore – crap jokes (undoubtedly from me!!), memories and tales of past glories – bouncing back and forth amongst those here gathered. By the by, the lost sheep returned. Alan and his Scot SLF crew were in, getting some lubrication for their vocal chords in preparation for the sing-a-longa Jake later. Outside for smokes and we bump into more friends – Alastair returning from another painful performance by his local footie team – starting to make their way gigwards. Not particularly interested in getting in early doors, however some were, and we departed the comfort of Robinsons – some straight to the gig, some diverting off for edibles.
On High Street in the shadow of the Albert Clock, the small throng all heard the strains of ‘Something Better Change’ a muffled version I thought was coming from a parked car – until I was informed it was my phone DOH!! Jason checking in and arranged to meet at McHughs Bar (he weren’t too far – unlike his hotel for the night!!). McHugh’s was already over-flowing with people either getting pre-gig drinks or staking their spot for the night’s ‘audio’ performance. Drink eventually in hand, I bumped into more gig-goers from across the Irish Sea and a good few fellow Norn Iron folk down for the gig. Patinblack (a Stranglophile work colleague) was here (first gig of the year – slipping up young man) and Owen and Jacquie arrive, shortly followed by Collector-in-Chief Neil. Always a pleasure catch up with old and new friends in the pre-gig social.
As people begin to drift off into the gig and others remain, with the intention of going in just before The Stranglers take the stage, more drinking and socialiing takes place. Elaine & Moz have hooked up with a group of Americans, taking in the gig on their way to St. Petersburg, SLF fans but have been into The Stranglers since Aural Sculpture. One named Susie will be getting forwarded a link to a pant-dampening track of which she was thus far unaware. As we drank on we could hear the support acts (Outcasts and Ruts DC) playing their repertoire – it was understandable why so many people were sitting around just to listen. Jason found the bar and proceeded to tell the tale of today’s travel woes – no quite as eventful as some previous J-Ray escapades – but FlyBe boarding card downloads that disappeared, the threat of not getting aboard – all eclipsed by the seven mile walk from their hotel to the venue. Could only happen to this pair.
The closing strains of The Ruts DC heralded the call to arms for the remaining Strangler fans to enter the fray. Tickets scanned, checked out the merch stall, food and bar facilities – food looked rank and queues for the beer tent(s) were huge – so we made our way down towards the front – close enough – JJ’s side. Before too long the intro instro of Waltzinblack reverberated across Custom House Square and from the right hand wing, the four black-clad aural sculptors take to the stage. As Jim and Dave mount their respective positions, JJ and Baz have their guitars ceremoniously draped over their shoulder – nods, turns and the wave-crashing thunder of ‘Toiler..’ creates a ripple effect of bobbing and bouncing bodies in the crowd. Another ‘festival’ set of greatest hits – but what a set-list!! Speaking to some ‘casual’ fans later – they were amazed by the songs played – as we were treated to ‘Grip’, ‘Nice’n’Sleazy’ and on through ‘Five Minutes’, ‘Peaches’, ‘Duchess’ et al. The surely must be played ‘Golden Brown’ was reported in another review as somewhat lacklustre and lost the crowd with a dip in energy (Baz now miming flicking a cigarette as well as rolling up his sleeves). Followed though by ‘Always The Sun’, the audience were soon back on board, with accompanying “Aaaaahhhhs” and throwback cheers at a digital wooden block.
At a timely break Baz took the opportunity to slag off the apartment residents on their balconies overlooking the venue – although I’d still say they had the last laugh, taking in the gig (in fact all gigs played there) for free, carry-out in the fridge and no queue for the toilets!!
One of the outstanding tracks from the last tour has remained in the set, even for these festival-type events – and rightly so. A single, a fan favourite, a welcome addition to the set and again talked about by the ‘casual’ gig-goers – ‘Bear Cage’ pounds out. It’s distinctive bass line interspersed with the sharp cutting chords, the snare-drum roll and cyclical funfair tinkling keys – all combine to produce the highlight of the evening. Further classics ‘Hanging Around’ and relatively newer material ‘Norfolk Coast’ maintained the powerful momentum of this supposed co-headline (!!) support slot and as the hour approached we were treated to an explosive performance of ‘Tank’ – culminating with the now customary ‘batter the fuck outta your bass’ as JJ stood centre stage. The reverberations from the low-end bass cabinet shock-waving out and (literally) through the crowd as internal organs were rattled in one’s ribcage and just when you thought your heart was going to erupt out off your chest – like an Alien embryo – the fleet fingered intro to the set closer ‘No More Heroes’ resurrected the crowd into a re-energised frenzy of pogo-a-go-go. And that was that – no encore, but a group bow to the audience, quick photo op from the drum riser where Andy caught the band with their audience and thence off-stage.
A curtailed festival set – which still in some people’s opinion blew off the two previous acts and the headliners too. I cannot really comment because as soon as The Stranglers left, so did I. Apart from the fact I’m not a fan of Stiff Little Fingers (I’m seriously not LOL), I wanted to hook up with some of my local mates at the gig and took this chance to seek them out on the way to the toilet. It was like finding a needle in a haystack!! Even texting where they were didn’t help and, as my bladder was crying out for relief, it was a forgotten task until I saw the queue for the bogs. Fuck that for a game of (tin) soldiers – I gotta getta wee – I decided the only real thing to do was leave the venue and pop over to McHugh’s for urinary relief. On my way toward the exit I bump into Elaine & Moz, who had a similar idea, and so we left (no re-entries) relieved out bladders and shot off for something to eat.
Fully sated, we returned to the outside smoking/seating area to listen to the remainder of the SLF set – meeting up with Audrey and Sandra who I hadn’t seen all day (nor all of the night!!) In fact an ill-thought out bum fondle greeting as she was at the bar, nearly had Audrey performing her boxercise training on my noggin (before she realised it was only me). I honestly was surprised how many people who had been in the gig were now sat present as Jake and Co. dragged out the white man reggae of ‘Johnny Was’ before they culminated in the Northern Ireland Punk National Anthem – and (near) namesake of this blog – ‘Alternative Ulster’ As the re-invented chords from Mr Marley (ironically after Johnny!!) ring out over the Belfast sky-line the event comes to a close.
The remainder of the pack re-assemble at the watering hole for more drink and post-gig catch up – giving me the opportunity to hook up with a few who had missed the early gathering. With the bar packed once more and the thought of getting my guest reprobates home, it was time to say our farewells and seek out that most endangered of species – a seven seater taxi, willing to stop rather than await behind a mile long taxi rank queue. As luck would have it, one pulled over and saved the day. Home, relax, bed.
Up the next morning and feeling relatively in good health (given yesterday’s over indulgence!!) and after a few more Strangler clips on video and a lesson in cover versions by other bands, it was time for the Finaghy Four to depart for the airport. Back into an empty house and ironically it seemed very empty (but no, I didn’t run out and call them back!!).
Another great meet up with the Familyinblack, once again in my hometown, but unfortunately a couple of people evaded my company. Would have been cool to meet up with Steve & Wendy and Adrian & Gunta – but hey-ho – even my own mates were missed.
Another gig down – next I’m running for the hills and a male sheep’s arse….
ALTERNATIVE MULLSTER 