Stivell, with bombarde What's the best gig you've ever been to? For me, it's not an easy one to answer.
Quite often my musical heroes and others I'd expected to deliver, have really disappointed.
I've seen Bob Dylan twice, the first time unimpressed, the second appalled. As a die-hard fan of his work - especially up to 'Desire' - I was full of excited anticipation.
The first was in a large arena in Hanover and we were miles from the stage : in an age before big screen back-drops, he looked like a Borrower. He re-hashed his back catalogue, mangling most of the classics in the process.
The second was more recently at the Motorpoint and his voice had all but packed its bags and been dispatched to a Retirement Home. His band were a clunking bluesy outfit ( as retro as you can get), who also proceeded to vandalise his great songs. It was like watching a very bad 'tribute' group!
Van Morrison at St. David's Hall was much the same. He was so laid back ( i.e. uninterested) you expected him to wear white pyjamas and sit down on stage smoking a joint.......which is exactly what the awful Frank Zappa had done in Dusseldorf!
I am just as much an admirer of Van the Man's music, so this was equally disheartening.
Sometimes great music can be defeated by the venue itself and no-one I saw managed to conquer Sophia Gardens Pavilion and its unique acoustic quirk of clashing bin-lids from the back.
Likewise R.E.M. at the Newport Centre (a venue designed for footie, not rock), who struggled with the sound all evening, despite Michael Stipe's megaphone.
Stadiums are never satisfying either and two wonderful performances from Springsteen and The Who were appreciated more on the large screens than stages, you needed binoculars to follow.
Even Bob Marley couldn't conquer the smaller Ninian Park at a time when 'No Woman, No Cry' was just breaking through. In torrential rain and with a sparse crowd, some of that bellyful of fire was sadly missing.
As venues go, my favourites have been the Capital Centre and St.David's Hall in Cardiff and the Great Hall in Aberystwyth.
The Capital was the perfect size : not too big to be distant, not to small to be deprived a view ; it had an accessible bar and was easily adapted for sitting or standing. It was acoustically very good, though not quite matching St.David's.
Aber's Great Hall was like a cross between these two and I've memories of numerous gigs there, some disastrous and some highly memorable.
I saw David Bowie there on his Ziggy Stardust tour and, though not a massive fan, I loved the way he changed outfits for almost every song and the power of his original music then, with the marvellous Mick Ronson on guitar.
One magic moment was when an Aber regular John Martyn played at the Union Refectory (no longer there).
It had wide windows overlooking Cardigan Bay and Martyn's hazy, meandering voice and reverberating guitar tallied perfectly with the scene : the sun going down on the horizon.
He told us this was the finest of venues on such a summer's night.
This was the time when my friend and I approached the support act Claire Hammill, who was practising in the cloak room and showed her our baseball shoes.
Closer to home, Merthyr's Dollars night club used to attract big acts in the 1980s.
Two of the most intense and thrilling gigs were from Dexy's Midnight Runners, just when 'Come On Eileen' was charting and Elvis Costello, who was riding on the surge of New Wave with the best songwriting at that time.
Dollars was small, hot and wild and my only regret is that Ian Dury and the Blockheads were booked to play there and it was cancelled.
But the Capital was the Ace of Venues and the Motorpoint has never come close for atmosphere.
In the 70s, I saw the Sensational Alex Harvey Band there, when they'd recently charted with 'Next' and 'Tomorrow Belongs To Me'.
They lived up to their name : one of the most exhilarating live bands, with a theatricality all their own. They demolished walls long before Floyd and flashed knives on stage, vocals often menacing and music to razor the smoky air.
The most remarkable concert was Alan Stivell, the Breton multi-instrumentalist and singer.
Celtic music was at its high point, with The Chieftains and Planxty taking Irish music to another level. So here was Stivell, doing for that music what Fairport Convention had done for English folk. He was the epitome of the Celtic Spirit, singing songs from his native Brittany, Wales, Ireland and Scotland.
With his bombarde and harp, it felt like a musical renaissance. His performance was so uplifting and the encore the best ever.
As the crowd shouted for 'More!', lights went out and he left the stage with his band.
Deflation turned to elation, as next thing, there he was at the back of the hall raised on shoulders and playing the bombarde.
Almost the entire crowd followed him out of the Capital and into Queen's Street, dance-walking in unison; it was like a combination of a Fest Noz and spontaneous street party.
These are the things which stay in mind, long after the mere re-working of album songs has been forgotten.
Some have done worse than this, such as 10 CC ( at their most popular) who made us wait two hours in the drenching rain at Cardiff Castle, only to use tapes to assist them on many songs such as 'I'm Not In Love'.
Other artists manage every time to give you a unique, lasting experience. I've seen Loudon Wainwright, Richard Thompson and Christy Moore many times and they've always inspired.
All three are witty characters who can engage audiences and exchange banter and, moreover, they have the songs and vocal abilities to change radically from hilarity to melancholy.
As with poetry, it isn't always the so-called 'greats' who move you most. For Dylan read R.S. and for Stivell read Zephaniah.
Then again, I've yet to see Tom Waits.
ALMOST (BUT NOT QUITE) FAMOUS
for Roy
When I was at school
one of my friend's brothers
designed an album cover
by someone called Reginald Dwight
who called himself 'Elton John' :
we weren't that impressed then.
At Uni I spoke with Claire Hammill
(I hear you say 'Claire Who'?)
who was supporting the grrrrrrrrreat John Martyn ;
I showed her my baseball shoes ;
you can still get her 'Baseball Blues'
as a ringtone, even if she's forgotten.
I taught with a man
who had taught Roger Waters and Syd Barrett,
said Syd had been a good lad
but Waters an arrogant bastard
(mind, some said that teacher
was 'like a brick in the wall').
I've had tweets from Thea Gilmore
and postcards from Robert Wyatt,
been insulted by half of Man
but ,above all, Mike Peters of The Alarm
was about to make a single using my poem and Cor Cochion
till Billy Bragg did it, without me but with them!
Quite often my musical heroes and others I'd expected to deliver, have really disappointed.
I've seen Bob Dylan twice, the first time unimpressed, the second appalled. As a die-hard fan of his work - especially up to 'Desire' - I was full of excited anticipation.
The first was in a large arena in Hanover and we were miles from the stage : in an age before big screen back-drops, he looked like a Borrower. He re-hashed his back catalogue, mangling most of the classics in the process.
The second was more recently at the Motorpoint and his voice had all but packed its bags and been dispatched to a Retirement Home. His band were a clunking bluesy outfit ( as retro as you can get), who also proceeded to vandalise his great songs. It was like watching a very bad 'tribute' group!
Van Morrison at St. David's Hall was much the same. He was so laid back ( i.e. uninterested) you expected him to wear white pyjamas and sit down on stage smoking a joint.......which is exactly what the awful Frank Zappa had done in Dusseldorf!
I am just as much an admirer of Van the Man's music, so this was equally disheartening.
Sometimes great music can be defeated by the venue itself and no-one I saw managed to conquer Sophia Gardens Pavilion and its unique acoustic quirk of clashing bin-lids from the back.
Likewise R.E.M. at the Newport Centre (a venue designed for footie, not rock), who struggled with the sound all evening, despite Michael Stipe's megaphone.
Stadiums are never satisfying either and two wonderful performances from Springsteen and The Who were appreciated more on the large screens than stages, you needed binoculars to follow.
Even Bob Marley couldn't conquer the smaller Ninian Park at a time when 'No Woman, No Cry' was just breaking through. In torrential rain and with a sparse crowd, some of that bellyful of fire was sadly missing.
As venues go, my favourites have been the Capital Centre and St.David's Hall in Cardiff and the Great Hall in Aberystwyth.
The Capital was the perfect size : not too big to be distant, not to small to be deprived a view ; it had an accessible bar and was easily adapted for sitting or standing. It was acoustically very good, though not quite matching St.David's.
Aber's Great Hall was like a cross between these two and I've memories of numerous gigs there, some disastrous and some highly memorable.
I saw David Bowie there on his Ziggy Stardust tour and, though not a massive fan, I loved the way he changed outfits for almost every song and the power of his original music then, with the marvellous Mick Ronson on guitar.
One magic moment was when an Aber regular John Martyn played at the Union Refectory (no longer there).
It had wide windows overlooking Cardigan Bay and Martyn's hazy, meandering voice and reverberating guitar tallied perfectly with the scene : the sun going down on the horizon.
He told us this was the finest of venues on such a summer's night.
This was the time when my friend and I approached the support act Claire Hammill, who was practising in the cloak room and showed her our baseball shoes.
Closer to home, Merthyr's Dollars night club used to attract big acts in the 1980s.
Two of the most intense and thrilling gigs were from Dexy's Midnight Runners, just when 'Come On Eileen' was charting and Elvis Costello, who was riding on the surge of New Wave with the best songwriting at that time.
Dollars was small, hot and wild and my only regret is that Ian Dury and the Blockheads were booked to play there and it was cancelled.
But the Capital was the Ace of Venues and the Motorpoint has never come close for atmosphere.
In the 70s, I saw the Sensational Alex Harvey Band there, when they'd recently charted with 'Next' and 'Tomorrow Belongs To Me'.
They lived up to their name : one of the most exhilarating live bands, with a theatricality all their own. They demolished walls long before Floyd and flashed knives on stage, vocals often menacing and music to razor the smoky air.
The most remarkable concert was Alan Stivell, the Breton multi-instrumentalist and singer.
Celtic music was at its high point, with The Chieftains and Planxty taking Irish music to another level. So here was Stivell, doing for that music what Fairport Convention had done for English folk. He was the epitome of the Celtic Spirit, singing songs from his native Brittany, Wales, Ireland and Scotland.
With his bombarde and harp, it felt like a musical renaissance. His performance was so uplifting and the encore the best ever.
As the crowd shouted for 'More!', lights went out and he left the stage with his band.
Deflation turned to elation, as next thing, there he was at the back of the hall raised on shoulders and playing the bombarde.
Almost the entire crowd followed him out of the Capital and into Queen's Street, dance-walking in unison; it was like a combination of a Fest Noz and spontaneous street party.
These are the things which stay in mind, long after the mere re-working of album songs has been forgotten.
Some have done worse than this, such as 10 CC ( at their most popular) who made us wait two hours in the drenching rain at Cardiff Castle, only to use tapes to assist them on many songs such as 'I'm Not In Love'.
Other artists manage every time to give you a unique, lasting experience. I've seen Loudon Wainwright, Richard Thompson and Christy Moore many times and they've always inspired.
All three are witty characters who can engage audiences and exchange banter and, moreover, they have the songs and vocal abilities to change radically from hilarity to melancholy.
As with poetry, it isn't always the so-called 'greats' who move you most. For Dylan read R.S. and for Stivell read Zephaniah.
Then again, I've yet to see Tom Waits.
ALMOST (BUT NOT QUITE) FAMOUS
for Roy
When I was at school
one of my friend's brothers
designed an album cover
by someone called Reginald Dwight
who called himself 'Elton John' :
we weren't that impressed then.
At Uni I spoke with Claire Hammill
(I hear you say 'Claire Who'?)
who was supporting the grrrrrrrrreat John Martyn ;
I showed her my baseball shoes ;
you can still get her 'Baseball Blues'
as a ringtone, even if she's forgotten.
I taught with a man
who had taught Roger Waters and Syd Barrett,
said Syd had been a good lad
but Waters an arrogant bastard
(mind, some said that teacher
was 'like a brick in the wall').
I've had tweets from Thea Gilmore
and postcards from Robert Wyatt,
been insulted by half of Man
but ,above all, Mike Peters of The Alarm
was about to make a single using my poem and Cor Cochion
till Billy Bragg did it, without me but with them!
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