The Quireboys burst onto the music scene in the 1980′s with their unique bluesy sound, a combination of The Small Faces, The Rolling Stones, Primal Scream and The Black Crowes, and their lead singer Spike often seen out leading the high life, in fact he tended to mirror Bobby Gillespie. Their debut album, A Little Bit Of What You Fancy, was a cracking album, full of guitar and piano based blues anthems that more than stand the test of time today, Spike’s gravelly voice probably only comparable to an early Rod Stewart.
However, it took them a long time to produce a second album, which, whilst decent enough, lacked the punch of the first one, and by this time The Black Crowes had got a foothold in this genre as music, though, truthfully, they weren’t as good. Then the 90′s came and grunge took over and no-one wanted to know anymore about piano based blues music, and like others The Quireboys simply seemed to disappear into the wilderness.
And now they are back, and are promoting their new acoustic album, Halfpenny Dancer, which is a combination of covers and some of their older tracks re-recorded, and it’s billed as an acoustic show. And they are late on. Everything points to a disaster, think of acoustic, and you think of Eric Clapton almost comatosing you to death with Tears from Heaven or a stripped down Nirvana having nothing to show without the bluster of their electric guitars. And you have just received a dose of vitriol from your soon to be ex-girlfriend over the telephone, and you are wondering why you are here to end up disappointed again.
So we shuffle into a small room and wait for the support band to finish (who did an admirable job doing an acoustic set when they clearly weren’t set up for it). And then Spike appears out of a side door and gets up onto the stage, a drink in hand. He’s older and bigger but still recognisable, dressed in the gypsy/pirate look that he was wearing long before Johnny Depp made it fashionable – and this is the moment where you find out what kind of night you are in for. And they start off with a note perfect There She Goes Again, there’s no difference with Spike’s vocals, the gravelly voice is still there, in fact you kind of expect chunks of tarmac to come flying out of his mouth and embed themselves in your skin. It’s unique and there’s not another singer who sounds like this.
And it continues in the same vein. All the worries about it being an acoustic show fade away, in fact, they appear suited by it, the piano comes more out to the fore, though Spike has a lot of trouble actually sitting still, and completely abandons the idea halfway through. He continues to drink throughout the performance and engages with the crowd after every song. They talk about front men, such as Liam Gallagher and Mick Jagger, and whilst these two either scowl or pout, Spike is the real front man, wants to interact with the audience, enjoys his music and you can tell the rapport with the band and the audience is strong.
And when he sings King of New York, which wasn’t a stand out from the second album, but dedicates it to his father and says that he hasn’t been ready to sing this for some time, the song takes on a whole new meaning. Spike is not ready to sing this, and for the first time since the night began, the gravelly voice begins to crack. But this is not a night for moroseness. “What time is it?”, Spike enquires. “7 o’clock,” is the reply from the crowd as another thumping slice of guitar and piano blues fills the room. And the evening ends with an outstanding version of I Don’t Love You Anymore, where the whole room sings in unison as one, beer glasses raised high in the air. And even the final irony of the song doesn’t detract from what has been a remarkable evening.
And when it is over, and I step out into the cold Swindon air, even if it is just for a minute, everything is alright with the world once again.
