Episode Six

Winter bites
And Blyth go off in the van again
For some sleepless nights

Who could have imagined that Blyth Power would have chosen to start the new millennium in Boston, on a freezing January night? Certainly not our heroes, as they converged from their several directions upon that hub of rock fantasy that has made Lincolnshire the very epicentre of Cool Britannia. I am talking, of course, about the Axe and Cleaver. A worm-eaten hold of ragged stone older than Blyth itself, presided over for twenty years or more by ex-Glitter Band member Malcolm who - in his own words - hung up his boots and bought himself a boozer.
Hung up his boots quite literally, as these august items form part of the décor in The Axe, reposing in a glass case on the wall along with various other items of outrageous apparel. TDL has his eye in the distant future upon such a place, with a cornucopia of Blythabillia festooning every vertical surface. Here imbibers may marvel at such preserved relics as Wob's Breton shirt; a replica of Darren's hat, and the very pen with which the band signed the contract with Midnight Music, thus condemning themselves to a lifetime of penury. Visitors will also marvel at the lack of customers, as there will be nothing available to drink stronger than lemonade shandy. Let us pray that it never comes to be.

No such problems at The Axe and Cleaver, however. It seems to have become the focus of teenage misdemeanour, and was full of hard-drinking youths so young that they could have been sired by Mr Tipping all those years ago when he was roadie to the band's first line-up. This would be neither impossible nor unlikely…..

Whether these juvenile hordes were drawn by the lure of Blyth, or by the strange pink beverage that was being slopped out of a jug in the ladies toilet is anyone's guess. Personally we suspect it may have been the mural behind the stage, which depicts a writhing maiden being rogered by a guitar - the whole thing redolent of Zeus descending in the guise of a swan like in that great renaissance painting. Beautiful.
'Are you the band?' some of these youths asked of TDL as he stumbled in beneath the weight of something conspicuously drumlike. Sharp-eyed these kids. Must be all the carrots they eat.

The cost-conscious management had decreed that the band travel to the wilderness in two separate vehicles, one from Harrogate and one from Birmingham. Thanks to Charlie who allowed himself to be pressed into service at the bottom end, with Curly riding shotgun. With little grief and even less effort the band soundchecked and retired to marvel at the carved wooden genitals in a shop window round the corner. Blyth Power had reconvened.
Apart from the band's epic performance - which is always noteworthy - the chief incident of note was the mysterious arrival of a number of stickers of a certain Miss B. Spears on the drumkit. Could her presence, smiling up from the centre of the snare skin have been responsible for the particularly enthusiastic drubbing that Mr Porter dealt out that night to the kit? Who knows? Sadly, Jessi failed to fall into the hole in the stage that Malcolm had cunningly disguised with a piece of carpet. We came, we saw, we confused the youngsters no end, but on the whole the event was a success.

The Axe and Cleaver is the kind of venue that gets sneered at by the mainstream music press, on the occasions they have run out of anecdotes concerning Robbie Williams and Hear'say. We like it. It's a live music venue first and foremost, and functions on the goodwill of people for whom this medium is still important. That and the girocheques of Boston's thirsty teenagers. Long may it last.

February came round, and with it yet another video shoot at the Harlow Square. This is another brilliant venue, and possibly one of the best live sounds ever. Blyth tend to video gigs there quite often, as the facilities are first rate, and they cost next to nothing.
The chief reason for this particular recording was as a kind of glorified demo of the current line-up, which has not yet suffered the management's scrutiny on film - that and an opportunity to get hold of a good recording of the new material. No better way to get it right at Trinity Heights than by listening to endless live tapes and ironing out the blunders. Let's sack the drummer NOW!

A million thanks to everyone who helped out on the night, and we now have some more priceless footage for the one-day-we'll-release-it Blyth documentary video. Special thanks to Chris from Bash-the-Bish for fronting the video costs. We'll never accuse you of resembling Chuck Norris again.
February 2nd ended with the band piling into Al's grey transit and wending their way down to Sydenham, where tea and hospitality awaited us at the last homely house in the capital. Thanks to Joy not only for putting us up and feeding us, but also for not pointing out to Long-Haired Steve that he was long overdue a visit to the coiffeur.
Thus we slept and dreamed sweet dreams.

Jessi was long gone by breakfast on the Saturday morning, and was off about the rail network with trespass in mind. The rest of the entourage lingered long at the kitchen table wincing as TDL taught Francis and Adam how to insert dangerous sharp objects up their noses, and to clean the floor with their grandmother's electric toothbrush. Fortunately no fatalities occurred and we all rendezvoused as planned in Camden Town for the evening's performance at The Dublin Castle.

What a great venue. Great sound, great crowd, great PA, and people who know how to use it. Shame the deal is so appallingly lousy that the management doubt the band will be able to afford to play it again.
First support band 'Daddy Those Men Scare Me' were particularly fine, and the place was pretty full. A jolly good night was had all round and the night was made momentous by the long overdue awarding of the quiz first prize. The rest to follow honest…

So it was that through the long dark watches of the night, we wound our way back to the frozen North, via Birmingham and a short sleep chez Jessi.

As his mightiness, TDL, has been gallivanting alone with his guitar much of the time of late, the only other Blyth show in February was at the Victoria in Swindon. Initially paired up with a date in Coventry, this was reduced to a one-off by the age-old 'venue-changing-hands-so-sorry-you're-not-in-the-book' excuse. In this case, however, the new management were anxious to reschedule the event, so honour will be satisfied. Shame we weren't in town for Swag's birthday, alas.

We were in Swindon for Steve Maccabbee's birthday, however. Those of you who never saw us play with Thanet's finest may consider themselves bereft. The Maccabbees were one of the most original sounding band's around, and coupled this with a catalogue of songs that frequently fall into the category 'inspiring.' One such was 'Goodnight,' which Blyth trotted out in Swindon as the first cover version ever that wasn't intended as a joke. Perhaps we'll steal 'Habit of a Lifetime' sometime as well. Thanks to Steve on the night for not throwing bottles at us for butchering his opus.
Support in Swindon was 'One in the Eye,' an acoustic duo who have also played with the guitar-toting TDL at other venues. The biscuit was taken on the night, however, by the strange gentleman who accosted us and informed us that he had written most of the songs generally credited to eldritch anarcho-punk band The Mob while in an institution in 1987. "But they were recorded in 1982," we assured him.
"That's what you've allowed everyone to believe," he informed us darkly. It seems he was given a guitar to amuse himself during his incarceration, and wrote a great many songs on it, unaware that it secretly contained a tape recorder.
TDL says that this is all true, and that furthermore his own work is similarly miscredited to himself, and that he has never penned an original note or lyric in his whole life.

Swindon was a good night out, and the band are booked to return in September. Hopefully on this occasion we may learn the truth behind Zounds' songwriting as well. We await with interest.

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