Review: Stiff Little Fingers, O2 Academy

For the longest time you could calibrate your rockin’ calendar around the annual Colston Hall show by Motörhead but alas that bedrock event for any worthy gig schedule has gone (Lemmy, Philthy, Würzel – RIP). There is, however, an alternative datum point because for the fourth year running Stiff Little Fingers rolled in to the Academy, their March date proving a viable alternative (but not replacement, no band will ever replace Motörhead). This tour sees the band celebrate their fortieth anniversary and the O2 Academy date was a raucous, boozy, charged up night.

Theatre of Hate’s proprietor Kirk Brandon is something of a cult legend, not only did he lead second wave punk band The Pack, but he formed seminal post punk  band Theatre of Hate and then after splitting that outfit led the equally influential Spear of Destiny. He’s been almost continually working since the latter split (major surgery and other health issues not withstanding) and is now managing to tour and record with both ToH and SoD, as well as maintaining a solo career and the Dead Men Walking project for live dates. Oh, and there’s also the annual Westworld Weekend, which sees him performing for an entire weekend covering the whole gamut of his musical output. Tonight the band took no prisoners – jagged shards of glacial guitar, twisted twinned riffs and biting solos; Richter scale bass locked in to the pocket with post punk funk drums pounding out a warped disco beat and mutant jazz sax filling the gaps & taking solos for that unique ToH sound. Brandon’s quasi-operatic vocals were hoarse at times but powerful none the less, his Teutonic presence a sturdy counterpoint to Stan Stammers’ restless prowling as he came close to dominating the stage.

The set covered the band’s work old and new, with the new material fitting in seamlessly with the old, and little time for banter as the tunes battered the crowd: a cranium crushing set of a dozen tunes. Original Sin was remorseless; new tune Eyeless in Gaza prescient and powerful (“…an eye for an eye in the kingdom of the blind…” just about sums up the situation in the Middle East); Legion and Do You Believe in the Westworld delivered with authority and met with rapture, whilst Day of the Dog was a mesmerising slice of 21st Century post punk. On this form the band deserve your attention, there’s the new album Kinshi and a deluxe rerelease of West World for you to enjoy until you can get to a show.

Jake Burns (lead vocals, guitar) noted early in the show that Stiff Little Fingers were celebrating their fortieth anniversary and “…forty years is more than you get for murder…” to ironic cheers. Whilst he’s the only true lifer in the band the current line-up (Ali McMordie, bass; Ian McCallum, guitar; and Steve Grantley, drums) is a ferociously well drilled live band and they played a career spanning set of crowd pleasing anthems and hits, virtually every tune a singalong inciting mass euphoria and a fair amount of enthusiastic, if creaky, pogoing from the crowd. Although to be fair it wasn’t just the original fan base present, there were plenty of youngsters to, as passionate and committed as the old ‘uns. The lengthy set was of course packed with familiar material, Straw Dogs, Nobody’s Hero and Waste Life as powerful as ever and Roots, Radicals, Rockers and Reggae got the crowd skanking like it was 1981 (and the words even more pertinent in this year of strife – I’d vote for any party whose manifesto was the lyrics of this tune). Incidentally McCallum continued to fly the flag for classic rock with his AC/DC t-shirt…Bad Co last time out and it’s odd on for a Lizzy t-shirt next year but odds against Budgie.

As the set developed it was pleasing to hear tunes from “…the wilderness years…” as the band’s set has been, well, reliable on the last tours; exciting and fulfilling for sure, but reliable in choices. Each Dollar a Bullet was powerful, and a forceful reminder of the bloody crucible in which the band formed; The Roaring Boys was raucous and rambunctious; When We Were Young triumphant yet melancholy too, it’s references to Phil Lynott stirring bittersweet memories in the crowd and onstage. The band’s Strummerville was another emotional offering, but McMordie led the crowd in a rousing chorus of Clash City Rocker for a galvanising celebratory coda. The set selection also showed the breadth of the band’s lyrical concerns – they’re not just a political band but have, for instance, effectively skewered the hypocrisy and deceit around priestly child abuse with Guilty As Sin (Jebus, will there ever be a time when this song won’t be current?). Meanwhile Burns used his own fight with depression as inspiration for My Dark Places, the song introduced with a heartfelt plea for anyone suffering in the same way to seek help.

The detonation of a brutal Suspect Device closed the main set leading to a lengthy jagged, snarling Johnny Was for the first encore. A solitary encore was never going to satisfy the crowd and the band returned for a euphoric Gotta Gettway before finally leaving the crowd hoarse and exhausted with a phenomenal Alternative Ulster.

Alas there was something of a sour note that brought the night down during the closing numbers when a trio of fellas decided it was a smart move to fly an Ulster Banner, a crass move totally at odds with the entire ethos of SLF, and the fellas concerned chose to wave it during both Suspect Device and  Alternative Ulster of all songs. Whether it was intended as provocation or simply a monumentally misjudged gesture of support who knows what the point of this unwelcome gesture was. By contrast an elfin lady nearby had spent virtually the entire night grooving away with a tube of Pringles in hand, every time she got barged or knocked she offered a grin and a Pringle to each miscreant bringing smiles to all concerned. Surely the world would be a better place if more people brandished Pringles than Flags and Emblems?

Pix by Jeff Oram – SilentFoxPhotos