Playing to the grounds of Dudley Castle – to an audience mainly comprised of Neds Atomic Dustbin T-shirts, Uncle Bulgaria have fuck all to do with the wombles. They look dwarfed on a stage the size of which they are clearly not accustomed to, and nor does it look likely that they will ever be accustomed to. Aping your favourite bands moves in your bedroom is one thing, doing on stage to a slowly trickling and indifferent audience that will eventually number about 6000 is another thing. The shortcomings of Uncle Bulgaria’s material soon becomes evidently apparent in stark unrelenting daylight where it may have had considerably more power and impact in a darkened club, and the original material they present – sandwiched in amongst the covers that give the impression of a metal jukebox playing RATM inbetween some generic nu-metal band you’ve never heard of – ultimately leaves little impact. Visually the band are a mess of combat trousers and vests – generica nu-metal – and despite an unusual selling point in their notable bass player-but hackneyed stage raps seemingly lifted from a RATM live tape do them no favours. The singer jumps around energetically, doing an impression of Zack La Rocha meets Ray Cappo – minus the originality. The main memories of the set are covers of RATMS “Bombtrack” and Limp Bizkuits (rather than George Michael’s) “Faith”, and its obvious where the inspiration lies. It’s a shame that if this band are meant to be the apex of the talent of the Midlands metal scene that they prove to fall far short of those that they imitate. Ultimately, this band faces one of two choices: write some f*cking strong material, or fade away .
Next up is Balaam and the Angel. Ultimately, a trip down memory lane, with big shirts, big hair, dated keyboards and it makes the 80s’ ultimately less a place worth ever revisiting. Maybe they were good in the 80s’, but two decades later in broad daylight they have dated badly.
After this, comes Miles Hunt. Having languished for most of the late 90s’ in obscurity after the deliberately uncommercial Vent 414 project that followed the demise of the Wonderstuff, and with a complete lack of press following this, miles has now returned a singer songwriter, having released a solo album late last year. With a acoustic solo set alternating between old and new songs, you know you’re never more than 5 minutes away from a Wonderstuff tune, mainly so that the crowd hears out his material but never gets bored. For the first time of the day, a sizeable crowd amasses, and as for the setlist, It’s a cynical ploy but goes down well, with a steady appreciation of fans singing along to every word. Miles performance is impassioned and he’s obviously enjoying it, but it is clear that most people are here to hear the old Wonderstuff songs. Come December, and the reformation shows of the Wonderstuff, they can hear them all they like, and maybe Miles can get along with Quality songwriting as is his forte. Despite being Headlined by Terrorvision, it soon becomes clear that the majority of people are here for the next band, Neds Atomic Dustbin.
A brief burst of static and white noise.sounds fading in and out.the ominous rumble of a thousand doc martens. Five years on from the incongruous exit of Neds Atomic Dustbin somewhere in America , they come on stage to a crowd obviously deliriously happy to see them. The shirts say it all; " One More..No more.ENDS atomic dustbin. 30 years of JBs', last 30 mins of Neds Atomic Dustbin". It is clear that is meant as a final send off, a final goodbye.
The Six years since their last proper UK gig (an unadvertised one off in Birmingham excepted) have taken their toll on the Neds, but here in the bright sunshine and picturesque backdrop of Dudley castle, none of those years seem to matter anymore. For a brief 50 minute slice of time, you will believe a time machine has transported you back to the early nineties. Until you open your eyes and realise the subtle difference is that that every member of the Neds on stage now has short hair.
The reaction to the Neds is obvious and immeadiate:Jon is visibly shocked and elated at the reaction."Where the fuck have you all come from?". Its clear that most of the people are here for the Neds and the Neds only, judging by the high proportion of Neds shirts in attendance. From the opening "Until you find out", the Neds are welcomed like gods. If any gig should have had "BEWARE: LOW FLYING PEOPLE" signs on the entrance, this was it, and the Stunt Squad have reawakened from a six year slumber. Within 30 seconds of the opening , I've had to break up one fight, seen Alex get hit in the head by a beer can, been hit on the head by a crowdsurfer..and from then on it just gets sillier. The Neds seem like long lost conquering heroes in this reaction.if only for 45 minutes.
Oddly enough, the Neds seem as together as ever, given the fact that for this gig is the first they've played in five years and the first with this line up: Joining Jon, bassist Alex and Dan (dan the drumming man) is Martin (guitarist) and the bassist from Groundswell, and as Jon says "no disrepect to mat and rat, we still love them". The set is dominated by earlier era material, with only 3 songs dating from after their debut album "God Fodder". "Intact" is the only song from "Are you normal?", (Tantrum excepted) and stands out as probably the finest song in the Neds canon,and brings me to tears. The rarely heard live "Stuck" (from "BrainBloodvolume") comes up next and is an easily overlooked fine track, from the criminally ignored (but mainly because by 1995 the press had moved onto the next big trend) 3rd album. Then Jon stands at the edge of the stage as says "All we need is the poppies to be here" - followed by a obligatory huge cheer - "and they'd ask 'is everybody happy?'" , and they launch into the ecstatically received "Happy" followed up by equally well received "Trust". It seems like for a few minutes like we're back in the glory days of early 1992, before Oasis came along and slaughtered everyone with their own unique brand of moronirock which Travis later ripped off.
The Neds end the main set with "Song Eleven", final song on the third album. The encore is a return to GODFODDER territory. "Grey Cell Green" sparks up, as does the pit.It is to Martins credit that whilst the Neds look much different to before, they certainly don't sound like a band who've not played to an audience in six years ; they sound like a band who've never been away yet come back stronger than ever. The look on Jon's face betrays this as much: despite the fact that this is their farewell gig, Jon seems to realise just how damn GOOD the Neds always were, even if they didn't realise it. And how much he missed it - and how much we missed them. Its almost as much as Jon doesn't want this to be the last gasp judging by his reaction.The Last song the Neds ever play is the inevitable "Kill your Television"- or "kill your Terrorvision" as jon retitles it the last time he sings those words, and then its all over. That's it. The end of Neds atomic dustbin, and they will be missed. The only disappointment - as with any band - is to think of the classics (Aim, Walking through Syrup) that they didn't play. Oh well, the live album will be in the shops by Christmas at any rate.
"Machine wrapped with butter? Machine wrapped with butter."
Neds setlist:
- 01. Intro
- 02. Until You Find Out,
- 03. Less Than Useful
- 04. Selfish
- 05. Intact
- 06. Stuck
- 07. Happy
- 08. Trust
- 09. Tantrum
- 10. Cut Up
- 11. Song Eleven
- 12. Grey Cell Green
- 13. Kill Your Terrorvision
