Music / punk
Review: Sham 69, The Fleece
So back in those endless punk days Sham 69 split opinion and courted (often inadvertently) chaos. They were undoubtedly popular (five top twenty singles) but their shows were marred with violence, usually instigated by warring skinheads (right vs. left vs apolitical). Genuinely working class, they never quite received the approval of punk’s self-appointed gatekeepers of cool. The band have had something of a tortuous history since those days, with various line-ups and the usual internecine nonsense. But tonight, an almost original line-up thrilled a sold-out Fleece. Spoiler alert: it was a raucous, sweaty singalong night with a rambunctious crowd and a band at full throttle.
The room was packed predominantly with original fans, with a smattering of young ‘uns. Wall to wall Fred Perrys & eight-hole cherries; dozens of Harringtons and MA1s; straight Levis everywhere and the odd Ben Sherman. The crowd were beyond partisan – the love in the room for the band and their tunes was palpable. Many of their contemporaries may be revered, and many lauded by the critics, but were / are any of them as beloved?
is needed now More than ever
Jimmy Pursey was in fine form – looking alarming like Bobby Gillespie’s deranged Uncle – and a man prone to pogoing with abandon. His voice hasn’t changed (well, more of a rasp to it) and still powerful: online dictionaries use a picture of Pursey to define stentorian. Still packed with righteous anger on the political tunes but with irresistible joie de vivre on the party songs.
He managed to be fully engaged with the crowd (unnecessarily requesting singing, as the crowd constantly took the lead) but strangely disengaged. Next to no comments addressed directly to the audience but he was prone to uttering gnomic comments…Borstal Breakout allegedly a French folk song for instance. The same French who are, apparently, “good at rioting but fuck all else”.
The setlist picked itself and whilst the casual fans had to wait for the finale and encore for the hits, the hardcore were rewarded with a judicious selection from the core catalogue. Er, correction – judging by the volume of the singalongs throughout the night there were no casual fans in attendance. There was nothing casual about the pit either, just ask the fella with the lump the size of an egg that staggered to the merch mid set. Then again, you should have seen the dent in the pillar…
No one would argue that this was a night of virtuoso musicianship, but nonetheless there’s a skill to underplaying, to staying true to the tunes rather than showing off, to just nailing it with power and passion. Buzzsaw riffs, minimally pleasing solos; forceful yet supple bass and drums of thunder: Parsons, Tregunna and Guy motored through the set like a runaway tank. There was subtlety too, a reggae breakdown in What Have We Got (“Fuck All!”), and a cheeky nod to the yanks in No Entry. I Don’t Wanna was delightfully bass led and Borstal Breakout faithful but reimagined with a funky little middle section. That tune’s ownership now firmly lying with the fans.
Like many of their contemporaries, the lyrics remain pertinent: I Don’t Wanna referencing the refugee crisis and Ulster Boys reminding all that the entrenched attitudes on both sides aren’t history but an ever-present threat to peace and decency. Of course there’s an irony to hearing a, well, middle aged crowd singing If the Kids are United, and being encouraged to go up the pub when actually in a pub. Nevertheless, it was sheer life affirming, cathartic fun for all of us to reconnect with our teenage selves and wax lyrical about lace up boots and corduroys. Shame they missed out White Riot: next time please gents.
Sham 69: The Fleece: Friday, 25 October 2019
All pix by Phil Riley
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