Review: Dan Baird and Homemade Sin, The Thunderbolt

Received wisdom is that until the punk revolution there were no women in bands playing rock music and then the dinosaurs were all slain and womankind was free to learn a chord, learn another one and form a band. In actual fact there were plenty of precedents but many of them were playing in rock & proto-metal bands so have been written out of history. Thus Fanny and the Runaways were setting the pace before ’76 and even at the height of punk Girlschool were out there winning over punters, selling records and selling tickets. That band set the scene for plenty of other ladies to learn a riff and form a band – Rock Goddess, Vixen et al and of course there were the grunge(ish) bands who arguably took some influences from their less trendy forbearers. As did some of the hardcore & riot grrrl bands (ducks behind settee as fashion police reach for their Tasers). Flowerpot are a local band who are making some noise and taking the basic rock format and twisting it around, 21st century screw your genre ghetto nonsense style.

Steph Kiddle, vocals; Louise Stroud, guitar; Jess Hartley, drums and Morgan Pearce, bass are young but they’re full of confidence and already have some decent chops. Their seven song set certainly dragged plenty of punters in from the beer garden and they were rewarded with a tidy set of tunes full of promise. Set opener Blindsight rode a forceful bass riff and was decorated with an old-school metal solo whilst its fake ending caught the crowd out to the band’s amusement. Kiddle wanted to get “…up close and personal” with the front row during Quinn Condition (me neither), no shrinking violet she’s got a powerful voice and an engaging presence. Before The Dawn saw the band riding Stroud’s excellent lead before another left turn with its Sabbath like time changes.

Whilst it’s evident that the band like to rawk, they’re not slavishly aping the riffmeisters of yore – new cut Pretty Hollow had delightfully non-genre squiggly guitar and Loser Girl was full of punk rock attack and bile. The band have an easy manner on stage, plenty of banter with each other and the crowd but there’s some unashamed showmanship too, plenty to watch as they belt out the songs. Precious Little Lie closed the set, it’s opening funky and loose (an aspect of their song writing that would benefit their oeuvre if further developed) before a crashing crescendo built around Stroud’s hypnotically repetitive solo. Rewarded with a well-earned rowdy response Flowerpot deserve your attention, if they cultivate the quirk and innovation they’re gonna stand out from the crowd and gain some traction both locally and nationally.

Opening with The Myth of Love Dan Baird and Homemade Sin slipped in to a swaggering dirty Southern groove with a louche slackness that only a supremely tight band can achieve. Joining Mr Baird, lead vox and (mostly) rhythm guitar were Mr. Warner E. Hodges, lead guitar (with his patent sling the guitar round you neck panache); Mr. Micke Nilsson, bass and Mr. Mauro Magellan, drums. The band specialise in a loose Stones swagger, but aren’t afraid to pump out some hefty riffs and yet they never plod. Not a single tune lacked a singalong chorus and the majority saw the rammed crowd moving and grooving and hats off to the Danorak who negotiated the heaving mass with a tray of beers not once but twice.

So DB&HMS have a rake of good time singalong foot tapping tunes but five songs in the band unleashed Crooked Smile, a stone cold epic of a break up song that gave the band chance to really pull out all the stops. Lyrically it’s a succinct dissection of a break up in three verses and two choruses but oh boy, the heartache is all there in the music. Hodges and Nilsson whipped up a shit storm of a guitar vs bass duel, sensational stuff with the crowd the winner as they egged each other on to greater heights. A lesser band would have saved this for a set closer but DB&HMS have the confidence to chuck it in to the set early, confident they have plenty of material to match this beauty. Not content with his mid-song heroics, Hodges laid down another killer solo as the song climaxed, ending the song with a grin on his face like a fat lass who’d just hijacked a Ginsters delivery van.

Epic dispensed with the band slaughtered the crowd with a triple whammy – Movin’ Right Along, built off an infectious golden guitar riff; Julie and Lucky, its teasing duel guitar intro pleasing Magellan so much he felt compelled to beat a tattoo out on the venue ceiling; and then a raucous I Love You Period, Hodges and Baird trading lines and drowned out by the crowd bellowing out the chorus. Sheila, spliced seamlessly with I Wanna Be Sedated, kept up the pace as the band ranged across their four albums to date and Baird’s impressive solo work (Get Out and Go from the delightfully named SoLow); the Satellites (a boisterous Keep Your Hands to Yourself) and an unexpected but welcome cover of Helpless.

Speaking of the Satellites, of course some wag hilariously called out for that song, and of course it wasn’t played – Baird admirably sticking to his shout for a song and it won’t get played policy, reinforcing said policy when some “dickhead” kept hassling and was invited to, well, perform an act that would be physically impossible even if triple jointed. A rush of tunes kept up the momentum, all spiced with genuinely hilarious on stage banter. Hodges assuring the band he had “all (his) knobs in the right place” and putting his hand up when buggering up song intros. Baird praising Angus Young “…the little engine who could…” The whole band visibly having a whale of a time and clearly in love with rock n roll, woah.

The show closed with an unruly rambunctious take on Fall Apart on Me, yet another pop classic wrapped up in greasy rock n roll, followed by a frankly riotous Railroad Steel, delivered with joyous menace and drums that punished ending with the riff from Heartbreaker as a pummelling coda.

The broadsheets, monthly magazines and gatekeepers of cool on the web regularly praise a whole slew of American songwriters and yet Dan Baird never features despite the fact that he is a craftsman of tremendous skill and lyricist of no little aplomb. Sure his subject matter may not be particularly on trend but he has a knack of slicing through a particular strand of contemporary America, paring it to its essence and sharing it in ubiquitous vignettes with universal appeal. Take Julie & Lucky, it opens with a delightful scene setting couplet (“Julie and Lucky from waste your time Kentucky hit the road with the morning sun”) and then proceeds to describe the adventures of the pair with the brevity and skill of Elmore Leonard and the humorous insight of, well, name your favourite comedian. Maybe it’s the style of music, maybe it’s the Malcom Young t-shirt worn without irony, and hell, maybe it’s the top hat but Baird doesn’t get the critical recognition he deserves. But so what, he continues to release killer records, plays them to devoted fans and maybe that’s enough.

Pix by Shona Cutt

Dan Baird and Homemade Sin: The Thunderbolt, Thursday 20th July 2017