CARAVAN, OMFG.
Despite the weather and the fact that I've never been to Salford in my life, Jason and I got to the venue in one piece! We set off at about four o'clock since Jason's aunt had heard that trains into Salford would be a bit funny today, and then when we arrived at Manchester Oxford Road we were told that no trains went from that station anyway; the best way to Salford Quays was via a tram from St Peter's Square. Thankfully this was easy enough to find; simply leave the station, turn left and keep walking until you see the tram tracks.
Not long after we found the tram station and figured out which trams went to Salford Quays (MediaCityUK and Eccles), one arrived and we hopped on. It was about fifteen minutes before we got there, and when we did we had loads of time to kill and three places in which to murder said time - Frankie & Benny's, Chiquito (a Mexican place) or a pub, which turned out to be a Hungry Horse venue.
Once Jason realised it was a Hungry Horse place it was decided and I had no say in that decision. He used to go to one when he was down in Exeter and the college would give all students a fiver towards a meal on a Thursday, and the prices are brilliant; much better than Wetherspoon's. I had tomato and basil soup for a starter and a cajun chicken burger for a main and it was AMAZING. Jason had chicken wings and then steak and chips, and even after waiting for our food and then eating it, we still had about an hour to kill.
At half six we headed off to find the Lowry, which was actually very easy to find. The pub we ate at was just across from the Salford Quays tram stop; from there, you just turned left and carried on along the quay, past a Beefeater Grill and the Lowry Outlet Mall, until you reach a funky bridge that gradually changes colours. To the right of this, the big, shiny, multi-coloured building is the Lowry. It's all orange and purple and amazing! So we went in, got directions to where Caravan would be playing... and still had time to kill so we got ourselves a cup of tea. There was a Lowry employee in the bar area where we were waiting who was selling Caravan t-shirts and they had one medium left so I snapped it up. You have no idea how chuffed I am to finally be the proud owner of a Caravan t-shirt!
7.30 came and the doors were open. Jason and I were the first two into the theatre and wow! What a view we had! Our seats, Tier 2, Row A, 38 and 39, were right in the middle of the top tier with a cracking, uninterrupted view of the stage. In the meantime they were playing Frank Zappa, The Velvet Underground, Captain Beefheart over the PA to keep us amused. Time ticked on, I tried and mostly failed to get my camera to take decent photos, people slowly began to fill the seats. Instruments were already out on stage; Geoffrey Richardson's violin, guitar and flute. Mark Walker's drums, emblazoned with a Caravan logo. Jan Schelhaas's ensemble of keyboards... and an acoustic guitar. I wondered if we would be treated to an acoustic number tonight. I certainly couldn't see Pye Hasting's trademark red Fender on the stage anywhere, unless he would be carrying it on with him.
Then, at 8 o;clock, when the theatre was about 2/3rds full, the lights dimmed and a silent apprehension fell amongst those gathered. Two young chaps walked onto the stage - Garron Frith, the support act, and Cliff Woodworth, who would be accompanying him on Richardson's violin...
TOP: The theatre filling up // BOTTOM: Garron Frith (guitar) and Cliff Woodworth (violin)
Manchester lad Garron Frith treated us to some lovely numbers on guitar - his gentle, folkish style accompanied by Woodworth's airborne violin melodies proved to be the perfect warm-up to the main event. Between tunes he still proved to be a lively individual, engaging the audience with tales of Stalybridge in the Seventies and some cheeky banter. After Garron's short set, there was an interlude - in which I rushed to the loo - and a brief pause as the remaining seats finally filled, until the lights dimmed again. The audience burst into rapturous applause as the band walked on.
LEFT: Caravan kick off with Memory Lain, Hugh/Headloss // RIGHT: The band treat us to one of their newer songs
Caravan started their set with the traditional but nonetheless rollicking Memory Lain, Hugh/Headloss, a personal favourite of mine (Headloss especially) and one that always gets the crowd desperate for more. You could feel the energy emanating from Mark especially, and while Pye's vocals were a bit shaky here and there (both him and Jan were suffering from the dreaded lurgy) he soldiered on and played like an absolute pro. Charismatic Geoffrey Richardson, celebrating 40 awesome years with the band, bantered with us into In the Land of Grey and Pink and encouraged the audience to join in babbling between the vocals as Richard Sinclair did on the song back in 1971, which was tremendous fun.
Afterwards, Caravan delivered one of their newer songs (newer being that it was released in 2003), Smoking Gun, which is another live favourite; catchy, powerful, a definite crowd-pleaser. Back to 1971 afterwards for Golf Girl, given a rocking makeover with Mark Walker's wild drums, and polished off with something no Caravan gig would be complete without - Geoffrey Richardson whacking out a beat on the electric spoons. I was lucky enough to witness this in Cambridge, August 2011, where a spoon duel broke out between him and Mark - only this time the drummer whipped out a washboard, to the fans' delight! It's amazing to see how after two years he's really come into his own; back in Cambridge he seemed a lot more reserved, and now his true, and brilliant, madness is shining through. Richard Coughlan (ex-drummer who retired due to illness in 2011) chose very well.
TOP: 44 years on and still rocking! // BOTTOM: Pye Hastings, Caravan's driving force
The audience were led forward in time to the beautiful Nightmare, from their 1977 album Better by Far, transitioning into the classic L'Auberge du Sanglier, the sombre jazz of Backwards and then the explosive A Hunting We Shall Go, all from their For Girls Who Grow Plump In the Night, also celebrating its 40th this year. There were little lulls here and there, but that's what makes Caravan's music so special; it's like a journey, a rollercoaster. And the lulls are no less brilliant to listen to than the heavier bits!
Following that was another gem from For Girls (an album which is, admittedly, an absolute treasure trove); the supposedly innocent - according to Richardson - but most definitely tongue-in-cheek The Dog, The Dog, He's At It Again. Pye Hastings and Jim Leverton harmonised beautifully on the vocals; Geoffrey Richardson's violin was like a bird in flight above the rich undertones of Jan's keyboards and Mark Walker's excellent drumming. This is a song that has to be sung along to, and boy was I singing.
TOP: Pye, Mark and Jim lay down a solid foundation for the music // BOTTOM: Geoffrey rocking out his violin
Caravan have had a long, winding history, with a ton of previous band members, producers, managers, record labels, the lot. Pye, taking over bantering duties from Geoffrey, talked about the few unnamed people they'd worked with who'd been less than kind to the band, citing them as inspiration for their next song, Fingers in the Till, one of Pye's newer pieces. As a songwriter he certainly hasn't lost his touch, as proved by the bitter, regretful lyrics and beautiful melody. He may have moved on from the whimsical, abstract lyrics of early Caravan, but his newer, more emotive works still touch the soul. It's good no note as well that despite all their talent they haven't fallen into the trap of long-windedness and pretentiousness like some of their peers. Caravan have always been, and definitely remain, a gentle, unassuming bunch of chaps, and it's still very evident today.
Fingers in the Till paved the way for their last song of the night; the legendary gig-closer from In The Land of Grey and Pink, Nine Feet Underground. I've had the pleasure, like most of the songs previously mentioned, of hearing this live in Cambridge, and two years later, to hear it live again was an absolute blessing. From the powerful opening, to the truly magical keyboards leading in the intro, to some more wonderful vocals (and bass!) from Jim Leverton, who himself was recovering from a lurgy that seemed to be working its way through the whole band, it was a perfect end to a brilliant and much-anticipated gig. The music lifted us up, carried us along like we were part of it, its power flowed through the band and into us and it was amazing. And when they finished, the audience, previously restrained but for foot-tapping and trance-like head nodding, went crazy, and I was clapping until my hands stung, screaming for an encore. I wasn't sure we'd get it, since before Nine Feet Underground Geoffrey had said they were getting quite strapped for time, but then I noticed something on-stage.
Pye Hastings had left his guitar on-stage. They were going to come back out. And come out they did, to sate our appetites with the aptly-titled Hoedown, and Geoffrey Richardson had us clapping along (sod you, sore hands, you can rest when it's over!), and I was singing at the top of my voice and loving every minute of it.
TOP: Jim Leverton's vocals on top form, as usual // BOTTOM: Jan Schelhaas during Nine Feet Underground,
an epic perfect for keyboards
All good things eventually come to an end, and of course Caravan have lives to get on with, so the gig came to an end. When we got out of the theatre my ears were ringing, my palms were stinging from clapping and my little sing-along and cries of 'ENCORE!' had earned me a bit of a raw throat. But it was totally worth it. The gig was fantastic, Caravan delivered as they always do, and my only regret is that it had to end! It was great to see such a big turn-out for them, as well; by the time they actually got on stage, the theatre was full right to the brim.
Jason and I set back along the pier, and to be honest I was hoping that there would still be trams running at this time. As we were getting close, one was actually pulling in - one heading for Piccadilly. I reckoned that they all headed back to St. Peter's Square and so we ran, dashing through a minefield of dodgy cobbles and black ice to catch it in time. I think the driver must have seen us running because it stopped at the Quay and waited until we got on.
So we were lucky with our tram back. Not so much with our train. At Oxford Road we were greeted by a member of train station staff who informed us that the last train to Earlestown had already gone; the next way home would be a bus at 11:55pm. The current time then being just after eleven, we'd have to wait about forty minutes.
We were able to wait about half an hour in the warm waiting room, while Jason read a newspaper and I gushed over how brilliant the gig had been, but then we were evicted so the train station could close. The next ten minutes were spent huddled in the freezing cold. We were the only ones waiting.
The bus came finally, and took the motorway route back to Earlestown, which felt surprisingly quick. They dropped us off outside the train station, and we must have got home, chilled to the bone, at about 1am. I was knackered, I was cold... but it was definitely worth it. And you know what? I'd definitely do it all over again.
Not long after we found the tram station and figured out which trams went to Salford Quays (MediaCityUK and Eccles), one arrived and we hopped on. It was about fifteen minutes before we got there, and when we did we had loads of time to kill and three places in which to murder said time - Frankie & Benny's, Chiquito (a Mexican place) or a pub, which turned out to be a Hungry Horse venue.
Once Jason realised it was a Hungry Horse place it was decided and I had no say in that decision. He used to go to one when he was down in Exeter and the college would give all students a fiver towards a meal on a Thursday, and the prices are brilliant; much better than Wetherspoon's. I had tomato and basil soup for a starter and a cajun chicken burger for a main and it was AMAZING. Jason had chicken wings and then steak and chips, and even after waiting for our food and then eating it, we still had about an hour to kill.
At half six we headed off to find the Lowry, which was actually very easy to find. The pub we ate at was just across from the Salford Quays tram stop; from there, you just turned left and carried on along the quay, past a Beefeater Grill and the Lowry Outlet Mall, until you reach a funky bridge that gradually changes colours. To the right of this, the big, shiny, multi-coloured building is the Lowry. It's all orange and purple and amazing! So we went in, got directions to where Caravan would be playing... and still had time to kill so we got ourselves a cup of tea. There was a Lowry employee in the bar area where we were waiting who was selling Caravan t-shirts and they had one medium left so I snapped it up. You have no idea how chuffed I am to finally be the proud owner of a Caravan t-shirt!
7.30 came and the doors were open. Jason and I were the first two into the theatre and wow! What a view we had! Our seats, Tier 2, Row A, 38 and 39, were right in the middle of the top tier with a cracking, uninterrupted view of the stage. In the meantime they were playing Frank Zappa, The Velvet Underground, Captain Beefheart over the PA to keep us amused. Time ticked on, I tried and mostly failed to get my camera to take decent photos, people slowly began to fill the seats. Instruments were already out on stage; Geoffrey Richardson's violin, guitar and flute. Mark Walker's drums, emblazoned with a Caravan logo. Jan Schelhaas's ensemble of keyboards... and an acoustic guitar. I wondered if we would be treated to an acoustic number tonight. I certainly couldn't see Pye Hasting's trademark red Fender on the stage anywhere, unless he would be carrying it on with him.
Then, at 8 o;clock, when the theatre was about 2/3rds full, the lights dimmed and a silent apprehension fell amongst those gathered. Two young chaps walked onto the stage - Garron Frith, the support act, and Cliff Woodworth, who would be accompanying him on Richardson's violin...
TOP: The theatre filling up // BOTTOM: Garron Frith (guitar) and Cliff Woodworth (violin)
Manchester lad Garron Frith treated us to some lovely numbers on guitar - his gentle, folkish style accompanied by Woodworth's airborne violin melodies proved to be the perfect warm-up to the main event. Between tunes he still proved to be a lively individual, engaging the audience with tales of Stalybridge in the Seventies and some cheeky banter. After Garron's short set, there was an interlude - in which I rushed to the loo - and a brief pause as the remaining seats finally filled, until the lights dimmed again. The audience burst into rapturous applause as the band walked on.
LEFT: Caravan kick off with Memory Lain, Hugh/Headloss // RIGHT: The band treat us to one of their newer songs
Caravan started their set with the traditional but nonetheless rollicking Memory Lain, Hugh/Headloss, a personal favourite of mine (Headloss especially) and one that always gets the crowd desperate for more. You could feel the energy emanating from Mark especially, and while Pye's vocals were a bit shaky here and there (both him and Jan were suffering from the dreaded lurgy) he soldiered on and played like an absolute pro. Charismatic Geoffrey Richardson, celebrating 40 awesome years with the band, bantered with us into In the Land of Grey and Pink and encouraged the audience to join in babbling between the vocals as Richard Sinclair did on the song back in 1971, which was tremendous fun.
Afterwards, Caravan delivered one of their newer songs (newer being that it was released in 2003), Smoking Gun, which is another live favourite; catchy, powerful, a definite crowd-pleaser. Back to 1971 afterwards for Golf Girl, given a rocking makeover with Mark Walker's wild drums, and polished off with something no Caravan gig would be complete without - Geoffrey Richardson whacking out a beat on the electric spoons. I was lucky enough to witness this in Cambridge, August 2011, where a spoon duel broke out between him and Mark - only this time the drummer whipped out a washboard, to the fans' delight! It's amazing to see how after two years he's really come into his own; back in Cambridge he seemed a lot more reserved, and now his true, and brilliant, madness is shining through. Richard Coughlan (ex-drummer who retired due to illness in 2011) chose very well.
TOP: 44 years on and still rocking! // BOTTOM: Pye Hastings, Caravan's driving force
The audience were led forward in time to the beautiful Nightmare, from their 1977 album Better by Far, transitioning into the classic L'Auberge du Sanglier, the sombre jazz of Backwards and then the explosive A Hunting We Shall Go, all from their For Girls Who Grow Plump In the Night, also celebrating its 40th this year. There were little lulls here and there, but that's what makes Caravan's music so special; it's like a journey, a rollercoaster. And the lulls are no less brilliant to listen to than the heavier bits!
Following that was another gem from For Girls (an album which is, admittedly, an absolute treasure trove); the supposedly innocent - according to Richardson - but most definitely tongue-in-cheek The Dog, The Dog, He's At It Again. Pye Hastings and Jim Leverton harmonised beautifully on the vocals; Geoffrey Richardson's violin was like a bird in flight above the rich undertones of Jan's keyboards and Mark Walker's excellent drumming. This is a song that has to be sung along to, and boy was I singing.
TOP: Pye, Mark and Jim lay down a solid foundation for the music // BOTTOM: Geoffrey rocking out his violin
Caravan have had a long, winding history, with a ton of previous band members, producers, managers, record labels, the lot. Pye, taking over bantering duties from Geoffrey, talked about the few unnamed people they'd worked with who'd been less than kind to the band, citing them as inspiration for their next song, Fingers in the Till, one of Pye's newer pieces. As a songwriter he certainly hasn't lost his touch, as proved by the bitter, regretful lyrics and beautiful melody. He may have moved on from the whimsical, abstract lyrics of early Caravan, but his newer, more emotive works still touch the soul. It's good no note as well that despite all their talent they haven't fallen into the trap of long-windedness and pretentiousness like some of their peers. Caravan have always been, and definitely remain, a gentle, unassuming bunch of chaps, and it's still very evident today.
Fingers in the Till paved the way for their last song of the night; the legendary gig-closer from In The Land of Grey and Pink, Nine Feet Underground. I've had the pleasure, like most of the songs previously mentioned, of hearing this live in Cambridge, and two years later, to hear it live again was an absolute blessing. From the powerful opening, to the truly magical keyboards leading in the intro, to some more wonderful vocals (and bass!) from Jim Leverton, who himself was recovering from a lurgy that seemed to be working its way through the whole band, it was a perfect end to a brilliant and much-anticipated gig. The music lifted us up, carried us along like we were part of it, its power flowed through the band and into us and it was amazing. And when they finished, the audience, previously restrained but for foot-tapping and trance-like head nodding, went crazy, and I was clapping until my hands stung, screaming for an encore. I wasn't sure we'd get it, since before Nine Feet Underground Geoffrey had said they were getting quite strapped for time, but then I noticed something on-stage.
Pye Hastings had left his guitar on-stage. They were going to come back out. And come out they did, to sate our appetites with the aptly-titled Hoedown, and Geoffrey Richardson had us clapping along (sod you, sore hands, you can rest when it's over!), and I was singing at the top of my voice and loving every minute of it.
TOP: Jim Leverton's vocals on top form, as usual // BOTTOM: Jan Schelhaas during Nine Feet Underground,
an epic perfect for keyboards
All good things eventually come to an end, and of course Caravan have lives to get on with, so the gig came to an end. When we got out of the theatre my ears were ringing, my palms were stinging from clapping and my little sing-along and cries of 'ENCORE!' had earned me a bit of a raw throat. But it was totally worth it. The gig was fantastic, Caravan delivered as they always do, and my only regret is that it had to end! It was great to see such a big turn-out for them, as well; by the time they actually got on stage, the theatre was full right to the brim.
Jason and I set back along the pier, and to be honest I was hoping that there would still be trams running at this time. As we were getting close, one was actually pulling in - one heading for Piccadilly. I reckoned that they all headed back to St. Peter's Square and so we ran, dashing through a minefield of dodgy cobbles and black ice to catch it in time. I think the driver must have seen us running because it stopped at the Quay and waited until we got on.
So we were lucky with our tram back. Not so much with our train. At Oxford Road we were greeted by a member of train station staff who informed us that the last train to Earlestown had already gone; the next way home would be a bus at 11:55pm. The current time then being just after eleven, we'd have to wait about forty minutes.
We were able to wait about half an hour in the warm waiting room, while Jason read a newspaper and I gushed over how brilliant the gig had been, but then we were evicted so the train station could close. The next ten minutes were spent huddled in the freezing cold. We were the only ones waiting.
The bus came finally, and took the motorway route back to Earlestown, which felt surprisingly quick. They dropped us off outside the train station, and we must have got home, chilled to the bone, at about 1am. I was knackered, I was cold... but it was definitely worth it. And you know what? I'd definitely do it all over again.