Review: Tom Robinson, The Fleece

Tom Robinson made an early appearance at this anniversary show, generously and effusively introducing his support act Lee Forsythe Griffiths, who he described as a cross between Sleaford Mods and James Taylor. He wasn’t wrong. Forsythe Griffiths played cuts from his new recording Silence=Death: beautifully structured tunes with lively picking and strumming, and lyrics that the fainthearted might feel were confrontational but were actually unflinching and honest.

Forsythe Griffiths managed to be both pugnacious and humble throughout the set. He played on his ability to identify loudmouths chattering during the songs and suggested he’d be happy to provide a lesson in gig etiquette (widely applauded) and engaged in lively banter with the crowd. He was also clearly pleased to be on stage, referring to it as a “privilege” to be up there, and calling out others who are arrogant to believe they are entitled to be onstage and deserve automatic adulation. Cue raucous cheering and rambunctious laughter at the mention of Noel Gallagher and Kanye “bell-end” West.

Crazy Times, Home Again, Love is, Got it Coming & Silence is Death: songs that showed exactly what a gifted song writer can do with his voice, a guitar and plenty of attractive banter (despite a promise to “cut out the waffle”, Forsythe Griffiths managed to cram in plenty of chat). Crazy Times & Home Again packed in plenty of words, the listener needing quick ears to keep up with the thread, and their melodies muscled their way to the fore over some aggressive chords. Love is stood out though, a heartfelt tribute to Forsythe Griffiths’ husband George: introduced with genuine emotion, it clearly resonated with many in the crowd, and not just those who’ve suffered a loss. A masterclass in 21st century song writing, delivered with fire & skill: Forsythe Griffiths deserves your attention.

It was forty years ago that Tom Robinson recorded and released Power in the Darkness and to the delight of his many fans he’s been touring that work with his current band (Adam Phillips, guitar; Jim Simmons, keys and Andy Treacey, drums). Robinson informed us he was going to lead the band through the album in sequence and then they crashed in to Up Against the Wall, the organ led tune pugnacious and sung with impressive passion by Robinson, the band and crowd. The tune was punchy, Robinson’s voice was strong, albeit with a hard earned ragged rasp, and the band powerful. “Not bad for 68” indeed.

Thereafter the album was played, and played superbly: the songs faithful enough to satisfy the demands of nostalgia but tweaked and extended with 21st century zip and pizazz. Robinson paid tribute at numerous points to the original TRB and the current incarnation certainly did justice to their recordings and performances. Phillips, a classy player, totally meshed with Robinson’s forceful playing – a fine pairing so finely entwined they evoked Kossoff and Fraser on Too Good to Be True. Meanwhile Treacey gave the songs their drive, their swing and their bedrock: relentless and seemingly tireless. Simmons’ organ (steady) wasn’t just decorative, it was percussive and passionate: he complemented Phillips’ playing with aplomb; lifting the songs and imbuing them with class.

Despite being lumped in with the punk movement, the songs were far from “This is a chord, this is another, this is a third. Now form a band” simplistic anti-“rock” songs that received wisdom has us believe prevailed from ‘76 to ‘79. Although that said Grey Cortina certainly fitted with many of the short, sharp 45s released then; and Man You Never Saw was played at a breakneck pace – Robinson ironically stating that it was too fast to play in his youth but the past forty years had given him chance to build up his chops enough to play it as a pensioner. The tunes swung relentlessly (Too Good to Be True); thrilled with passion and power (Ain’t Gonna Take It, Better Decide Which Side You’re On): a reminder of exactly what can be achieved with the much maligned classic rock tropes.

Of course the album was also overtly political and there were many conversations before and after the show about the advances made since its release: pride in prejudices overturned and yet tinged with dismay at how little some things have changed. Points acknowledged by Robinson himself, with the lyrics tuned up to reflect the two steps forward, one step back nature of enlightenment. This was especially apparent on the title track, Robinson replacing the original mid-song right wing tirade with his own list of things we all still need to fight to achieve. A necessarily empowering reminder that we need to defeat those fuckers who still support blatant bigotry, xenophobia and misogyny.

As you’d expect the room was packed with people who’d clearly been there first time round, but there were plenty of younger attendees too, and plenty of parents and offspring. The former danced with abandon from the off, the latter were clearly embarrassed and, had the room been anything less than rammed, would have stepped away from the parent. But that said it wasn’t long before even the most embarrassed sprogs were dancing too (even the lad who’d consumed his own bodyweight in crisps during the opening numbers), the whole room under the TRB groove.

To the surprise of absolutely no one Power in the Darkness concluded the main set, the band hitting a slinky, dirty funk groove that echoed Santana in their prime, with the crowd finding fresh energy for dancing and roof raising backing vocals. Having already alerted the crowd to the fact that the band would be complying with encore custom and practice, Robinson then actually didn’t even bother to lead them offstage. Instead a bass-less Robinson conducted the crowd in a rendition of Martin with a mockney accent so blatant even Damon Albarn would have blushed.  Glad to be Gay was introduced with a pants-wettingly funny Alex Harvey anecdote and once again the crowd raised the roof on chorus and verse alike.

But let’s just pause here and acknowledge exactly how brave, how audacious and how groundbreaking that recording was…because given the advances made in attitude to sexual choices, it’s difficult to appreciate what a bold move it was to record and release Glad to be Gay. The seventies were an incredibly toxic time in many ways, bigotry wasn’t for the minority – it was engrained in everyday life. People shopped in the open-all-hours Paki shops; bought their takeaways from the Chinky and, for many, queer bashing and racial violence were a rite of passage. To release that record and perform it at gigs amid the rank stink of institutionalised homophobia and with outright hatred so pervasive took some balls.

2-4-6-8 Motorway was introduced as “…a medley of my hit”; pounding & celebratory it showed that both crowd and band had plenty of energy left. Although there were still contemporaneous tunes unplayed (notably Right on Sister & Don’t Take No for Answer. Oh, and I’m Alright Jack) Robinson elected to conclude with War Baby, allowing for a final hilarious anecdote starring Eddie Grant. Received with as much pleasure as the material from ’78 the tune was a fitting conclusion to a splendid night that was packed with nostalgia and tunes that were both a reminder of advances made and faltering steps back to the stupidity of intolerance and bigotry. Robinson was reminded by many after the gig that TRB2 is 40 next year – same time, same place Tom?

Tom Robinson: The Fleece: Wednesday, 24 October 2018

All pix by Shona Cutt