Come On, Make Some Noise!

Remember Christmases when you were a child? The anticipation and excitement of Christmas Eve when you hoped and wondered if Christmas morning would see the presents you wished for at the end of your bed or under the tree? That, pretty much, was how I felt last Sunday when I was on my way to Kings Place for the Big Big Train concert. Would they play my favourite songs?  Having been looking forward to the show for months, would they be as good as I hoped? Answers later, meantime I was sitting on a train into Liverpool Street, stuck at Manor Park with only two lines open due to engineering work and delayed by a signal failure at Bow. As I abhor being late and can only just tolerate being on time (I have to be early for everything), I had fortunately allowed plenty of contingency. Just as well as the minutes ticked by and my twenty minute journey stretched to forty.

Happily, having changed to the Central Line at Stratford, I was at Kings Cross at one o'clock for the 2 pm start, a time unusual in itself. I've never been to a matinee concert before and I'm only here because the Friday and Saturday night shows sold out before I even knew tickets were on sale. Kings Place is not your typical rock concert venue; it's more the sort of place you expect to go to see an exhibition and have a meal in the Rotunda restaurant looking out onto the Regents Canal. It's none the worse for that, it's a light, bright, airy building that at first I fear may be a bit antiseptic for a concert; as it turns out my apprehension is unwarranted.  

Like most concert venues, however the price of refreshments is eye watering, but with typical British diffidence I don't demur when a small beer and a packet of crisps costs an arm and a leg. The concert hall is smaller than I expected, and I'm in Row D, nearer  than I anticipated to the stage, which barely looks large enough to accommodate the eight musicians that comprise the band, live. And I can't recall ever seeing so many guitars on stage (I lose count at about 15), not even at a Steven Wilson gig; where I wonder, are the brass section going to go? On the balcony it turns out.

The chap on my left is down from Wigan for the show. We exchange notes on bands we like and concerts we've seen recently. It says a lot for the resurgence in prog [1] in recent years that we each name some bands and albums that the other isn't familiar with. Then the band are on stage and we kick off with Make Some Noise which to me is by no means a typical BBT track, but boy does it get you into the mood and the show off to a flying start. Next comes The First Rebreather and for the first, but no means last time in the afternoon, the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end. In fact they do so again during the next song, the title track from the album that got me into the band in the first place, The Underfall Yard. Moving on, and the jaunty Uncle Jack is followed by Victorian Brickwork and...an interval (another first for me at a rock concert).

After the break, Kingmaker is followed by Wassail, nominated in the "Anthem" category for the 2015 Progressive Music Awards and taken from the EP of the same name which is listed in Amazon's Folk Music chart. It's a tub-thumping piece of prog that demands audience participation, with vocalist David Longdon playing and waving flute and donning a mask, elements of the show that would have the anti-prog brigade recoiling in horror: the audience love it.  Replaying the show in my mind later, I conclude that this is the highlight of the afternoon. The more serene Summoned By Bells is next and then Nick D'Virgilio launches into a drum solo, another thing that is anathema to those who don't like prog. Personally I love a drum solo (or, indeed a duet) and this is a particularly fine example that segues into the next song, Judas Unrepentant, which my neighbour and I had remarked we were particularly keen to hear the band play. After Curator of Butterflies David Longdon announces that we've reached the end of the set, which concludes with East Coast Racer (I'm listening to this as I write, with goosebumps, and a lump in my throat). An encore of Hedgerow and suddenly I'm outside, and in daylight after a gig; it's a day of many firsts.

So, did they play the songs I hoped for? By and large yes; if they'd played everything I wanted to hear we'd still be there (not that any of the audience would have complained). There's a guy (from Holland, I think) at the back who wants the band to do A Boy in Darkness: "Maybe next time," replies David Longdon. Let's hope so. Were they as good as I had hoped? Unequivocally yes, it was a brilliant show. My wife, who doesn't share my musical tastes, asked me what sort of music BBT played. "It's prog, but very pastoral, English prog, with a bit of folk, strings and a brass section," I told her. I don't think that does them justice if I'm honest, BBT are so multi-faceted that no single definition will really suffice.

It's turning out to be a vintage year for prog gigs. I don't go to many, but I've seen two crackers so far, Steven Wilson's Hand. Cannot. Erase show at The Troxy back in March, BBT this weekend, and then there's Lonely Robot and Fish's Farewell To Childhood tour to come.

While most bands engender loyalty among their fans, it seems that BBT fans are more devoted than most. It's clear that a lot of the audience have already seen one or even both of the weekend's shows and the rapport between the band and their devotees at the end is plain for all to see. This is not just a gig, this is more a celebration and with a bit of luck, it won't be too long before the next one.

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[1] See my previous blog, "You Want Noodles With That?"