About the photos...

You must have heard the old wives' tale:

Red light on stage, shite photos.

Come on Roadhouse, put in a decent lighting rig!

Little Barrie

The Roadhouse

Manchester

22nd October 2006

Setlist: Baling Out / Pin That Badge / Green Eyed Fool / Pretty Pictures / Thinking On My Mind / Just Wanna Play / Greener Pastures / Love You / Cashin / I Wonder Whether // Burned Out / Pay To Join

 

As I enter the twilight years of my existence on this Earth, certain things remind me how old I am getting:

• Everything pisses me off
• Schoolgirls didn’t dress like that I was at school
• I put punctuation in text messages
• New bands sound like bands from thirty-odd years ago
• Everything else pisses me off

Now, I may well be a grumpy old bastard, but I do actually like some of the music these young whippersnappers make, even if they have simply recycled the music of my youth. It is no different to what the established bands of today did when they were starting out.

Whilst some of the youngsters merely sample and regurgitate, others actually add something new and fresh to the mix, giving their sound an edge and lifting them head and shoulders above all of the others. For me, this means bands of the calibre of Kings of Leon, Yellowcard, The Kooks, Wolfmother and, yes, you guessed it, Little Barrie. To me, they just sound like they’re trying so much harder than all the rest.

It is hard not to compare Little Barrie and Wolfmother. Both bands are power trios, and both are aiming for a sound that belongs in the early ‘70s. What is more, both are bloodyfuckinggood! Fortunately, for me, I have managed to see each play live, within a couple of weeks of the other, in small venues, hence what you are now reading.

So, if Wolfmother raided their dads’ record collections and found an assortment of Uriah Heep, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and Black Sabbath albums, then Little Barrie’s dads were more bluesy, because they came across the Jethro Tull, Fuzzy Duck, MayBlitz, and Robin Trower discs. And, boy, did they listen to them?! Not many, Uncle.

Little Barrie’s first CD offering, We Are Little Barrie, could quite easily have a 1971 date on it and you wouldn’t even think to question it. Not only is the musicianship on it in another league, the feel is spot on. Everything about it is just perfect. As debut recordings go, this is as good as you’ll ever get. The fact that Wolfmother also unloaded an equally brilliant first CD in the same year is almost too much for old folks like me to deal with.

That said, just because Little Barrie can whack off a dozen-or-so tracks in a studio, doesn’t mean that they can cut it live. It’s always a possibility, when you hear a CD that rocks your world, that you go along to a gig and they turn out to be nowhere near as good on stage as they are in your living room. Still, I was prepared to go with my gut instinct and risk disillusionment and despair. So, one Sunday evening in late October, Firstborn and I mooched along to the Manchester Roadhouse.

I was ready to kill myself after suffering ten minutes of one of the most dreadful support bands I’ve ever seen. As much as I want to name and shame the pretentious tosser who made me want to eat my own liver, to stop the pain, I seem to have blacked it out completely, so horrendous was the experience. The only thing that didn’t make me go postal was the thought that Little Barrie would, hopefully, come on sooner, rather than later, and restore balance to the universe.

After some thirty minutes of Marathon Man-style pain, the ‘ever-popular tortured artist’ disappeared up his own keyboard and left us in peace. A rapid change around ensued and the three young men, who are Little Barrie, took to the stage. Immediately, the quality chasm was revealed to anyone with ears. Whereas listening to Laughing Boy had been the equivalent of shoving bamboo spikes up your toenails, this was akin to rubbing soothing aloe vera lotion onto razor rash; this was what live music is all about.

If you’ve heard the CD ‘We Are Little Barrie’, you will know that the songs are top notch (if you haven’t, well, take my word for it, they are). What I wasn’t prepared for was the sheer quality of musicianship from these guys. It wasn’t just basic playing that was taking place right in front of me; this was some really hot shit going down, the likes of which you would be impressed with if it was from a bunch of veterans who’ve been doing it for the last forty years. I was, I will freely admit, completely gobsmacked. I’m not easy to impress but Little Barrie blew me away, totally. A set filled with all original songs, played masterfully, with great feeling, skill, and conviction; what more can you ask for?

With any luck, most of the time, you will see a band live and say to yourself, “Yes, that was great. I really enjoyed that gig; it rocked.” But, you expected it to be good, that’s why you shelled-out wads of your hard-earned. All is as it should be.

Some of the time, you will go to a gig and come out saying, “God, they were shite!” You expected something that the band couldn’t deliver live. It can happen. Kiss, on the Lick It Up tour, par example. Total crap.

Occasionally, you will see something you hadn’t expected. I remember seeing ZZ Top on the Deguello tour and thinking how amazing they were; they looked like they’d just hopped off a boxcar, yet they were so damned cool and rocked like bastards. Last year, I saw Kings of Leon and their performance was so good, I came away feeling that they must be possessed by the souls of some gnarled old hillbillies; young kids can’t possibly play like that without the aid of The Devil. Little Barrie (and Wolfmother) punch so far above their weight that any of the established acts could quite easily find themselves playing the ‘Special Guest’ slot to them within the next couple of years, that is how good they are.

I’m overjoyed – well, as overjoyed as I get – at the fact that I saw them in a small intimate venue, because before too much longer, you will need binoculars to see them on the arena stage and, if you hate arenas as much as I do, that will be a generally unpleasant experience, which will furnish you with enough tales of woe to last you a good few months.

So, if you know about Little Barrie already, I am preaching to the converted and you already understand. If, however, you haven’t seen the light, do yourself a favour, surf along to littlebarrie.com, buy the CD and then catch a gig in the New Year. You deserve to live a little before you take the long dirt nap.

Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder

29th October 2006