Small Ballroom, Newcastle
Friday October 10, 2014 :
Opening the show for the Dead Kennedys would be an imposing challenge for most, but for a solo folk artist armed with an acoustic guitar, a huge jug of water and a collection of endearingly earnest songs and unfiltered delivery it must be double. Spencer Scott however handles the task with aplomb, receiving a well-earned round of applause for each tune, and a rousing reception at his conclusion. Completely unfitting with the musical landscape of the night, but pretty damn good.
Onto the more serious business of the next band, shouty lyrics and fast rhythms, it’s all pretty decent but doesn’t really step out as anything too amazing, hell I don’t even remember their name. The guitar is too low in the mix, but people dance and it’s a good time.
By the time the Dead Kennedy hit the stage there is barely breathing room in the Ballroom, easily the fullest I have seen this room, and the widest range of ages I’ve encountered there too. The absence of Jello Biafra isn’t really any skin off my nose (no slight on Jello, he was absolutely rocking with Guantanamo School of Medicine when they came through town), Skip Greer does a fair impression to be fair and the music stands on its own.
Furiously danceable surf guitar punk (to be overly simplistic) with political lyrics, the list of classics is gleefully ticked off; ‘Let’s Lynch The Landlord’, ‘Holiday In Cambodia’, ‘California Uber Alles’ and ‘Nazi Punks Fuck Off’, all played to perfection. East Bay Ray shines with his cutting solos and Klaus Flouride launches himself into every song and the band has a playfully confrontational nature that resonates with the crowd of reprobates from all generations. A fantastic set of stone cold punk classics lapped up with enthusiasm, Jello who?
Reviewer: Roger Killjoy
Photographer: Kevin Bull
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