Rebellion 2013

Well, it’s that time of year again. Four days of virtually nonstop punk rock in Blackpool’s Winter Gardens that are like a greenhouse in this summer heat.

Day one started with waiting in line outside the venue at 10:30 and drinking vodka with strangers. Pretty standard stuff really. Once inside I decided to have a look around and take some photos. I was told off for taking photos in the art exhibition, so to be as rebellious as possible I took another one while they weren’t looking.

The New Band Stage opened at 12 and I saw Casual Nausea and a couple of other bands (I’ve forgotten the names, but in my defence one was a last minute addition not in the programme) who masked their lack of ability with enthusiasm.

I met up with Mark, Jed, Bill and Gaz from Burnley who I’d met last year and we went to see In Evil Hour (they’d played on the New Band Stage last year) who were pretty good at getting a fairly lethargic crowd moving.

Loaded 44 (overrated) were next, followed by Dipsomaniacs (really good, but missed out by seemingly having no merch for sale) and Monkish, who performed an animal welfare song called Hardcore Kitten Stroker. I even bought their You Can’t Polish A Turd CD for a fiver off a man in a bear onesie.

Oddest moment of the afternoon was definitely walking into a bar where a guy was performing The Descendents’ Nothing With You on the piano.

After a colossal mixed grill and a lengthier-than-planned rest at the hotel I returned in time to catch On Trial UK and Leftover Crack. Both were really good, although the latter had some quite lengthy silent pauses in between songs and perhaps didn’t offer the value for money they could’ve. There was a really hilarious moment when somebody slipped and faceplanted on beer spillage on the ballroom floor though.

On my way back to the hotel in the rain I realised I hadn’t heard anything truly bad all day until I passed a karaoke bar where a group of drunk women murdered Shania Twain’s Man I Feel Like A Woman.

Day two didn’t really promise too much in the way of bands I was desperate to see, so I just sort of wandered from stage to stage checking out as much as possible.

There was Indecent Assault (poor), Army of Skanks (man in Mr T mask stood at the side of the stage), Wasted Life (shouty), RSI (from “the land of fucking roundabouts”), Eastfield (not as good as I was led to believe), Pink Hearse (very pink,but not very hearsey), Maximum RNR (Canadian hardcore mentalists), Church of Confidence (Germans with overpriced CDs), Vince Ray and the Boneshakers (psychobilly), Radio Dead Ones (average), Paranoid Visions (by far the worst live band I’ve seen in years) and Guitar Gangsters (pretty good,but made even better by the fact that they followed the worst live band I’ve seen in years).

The day’s highlight was seeing an interview with Hazel O’Connor and buying her autobiography, which she signed whilst indulging me in small talk and then posed for a photograph with me in which see looks terrified.

There was also an amusing moment when I popped down to the prom for some fresh air and a small child threw chips everywhere, attracting pretty much every seagull in a 5 mile radius. This led to an innocent passer by getting shat on. That’s never not funny.

Day three was another day with little on the agenda regarding must-see bands. I saw three bands in a row with female vocalists: Dragster (young Morticia Addams), Healthy Junkies (Taylor Swift) and Texas Terri Bomb (Pete Burns). Dragster were by far the best of the bunch.

Then there was an interview with reformed football hooligan, Cass Pennant. Bit strange really. He shouldn’t be likeable, but he is.  He talked about his books and films and how music is important, giving us all a sense of belonging. I swear I saw a man getting teary-eyed over some of his comments. Gary Bushell was on after him, but I found him insufferable and went for a food break.

The evening started with two bands I actually wanted to see. First were the comically-named and equally comedy-outfitted Dirtbox Disco who have quite a following. The crowd sang along, there was a blow-up doll surfing the crowd and, horrifically, there was a guy in a mankini dancing on stage. King Prawn were next and they sounded good, although they think they’re bigger than they are and they had no merch.

I caught bits and pieces of various bands after this, including half an hour of a ska-rock band called The Offenders. I was going to buy a CD,but they lived upto their name by charging £12 for them. No chance.

On my way to see the UK Subs after this, I happened upon a smaller venue where a ska band were just about to start playing. They were Citizen Fish, they were awesome and most importantly – they had reasonably-priced CDs. Missed the Subs though. Never mind, at least I got to hear a vagina haiku.

The final band I had decided to see was Chas and Dave. Yes, THE Chas and Dave. No, I’m not having a Turkish. As the Cockney Rejects and Cock Sparrer were closing proceedings, the organisers had obviously decided to make it an all jellied eels affair and found the most Cockney act they could. The crowd actually seemed to like them and they sang along and danced. After one and a half songs I’d heard enough. I ascended the apples and pears from the  ballroom and facked orf.

And so, before we knew, it day four was upon us. It was a very windy day and the air show along the seafront was under threat of cancellation. I can confirm it went ahead as I heard it all from inside a Wetherspoon’s.

It was a fairly subdued few hours as I waited for an intense period of bands I wanted to see, some of whom overlapped.

I caught 15 minutes of Kunt and the Gang and his near-the-knuckle synthesiser beat-accompanied “minor internet hits”, as he called them. Very funny indeed, but I had to go and see The Pukes.

I’d seen The Pukes last year and they’re what got me started playing the ukulele. If you’ve ever heard me play, blame them! There must have been 500 people watching them this year and they played a couple of self-penned numbers that were pretty decent. It was the covers we’d come to hear though and the highlight was their version of The Anti-Nowhere League’s So What.

A back-and-forth between stages was required to catch Geoffrey Oicott (cricket), TSOL (singer wore his wife’s skirt and tore it), Gimpfist (little-known gem), Roughneck Riot (Flogging Molly-esque) and The Bronx (one member refused entry to UK and none of their equipment had turned up).

There was enough time to sample a £3 hotdog, which was frankly rubbish, before I watched the last band of my weekend.

Face To Face were the band I’d wanted to see the most all weekend and they didn’t disappoint. 45 minutes with a mixture from pretty much every album spanning their 20 years as a band ensued. Much singing, much dancing and much raised glasses (or plastics, to be more exact) of beer and it was all over. The huge singalong of Bill Of Goods was definitely the best bit.

Standing in front of me while I watched them were two members of Casual Nausea, the first band I’d seen on Thursday. It was like the whole weekend had gone full circle or something.

It was another top notch, value-for-money weekend and I can’t wait to go again next year.