I was on the very back row in the circle for this gig and I think my ears are still whistling from the volume that night. Brilliant

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As I recall. One of the girls straps on her top broke . If memory serves me right it was like a top made up of coins held together in a net style

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Rock: Petty in Concert
By Stephen Holden
The New York Times - Monday, June 17, 1985

Classic rock and roll that extends and deepens traditions established in the 60's and early 70's may be a slowly vanishing breed of music. But its most dedicated practitioners continue to produce a guitar-based electric music that is a ruminative, visceral expression of populist feeling.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, who performed at the Byrne Meadowlands Arena on Saturday, belong to this breed, as do Bob Seger and Bruce Springsteen. Each represents a different, though related, aspect of the American sensibility. Mr. Petty, who was brought up in Gainesville, Fla., writes and sings from a working-class Southern point of view. And on his latest album, "Southern Accents," he has created a sequence of pungent dramatic monologues that draw a composite portrait of a restless young Southerner.

Although Mr. Petty performed songs that ranged back to the mid-70's on Saturday, the concert versions of material from "Southern Accents" formed the artistic heart of his show, and they gave his set an emotional depth and psychological resonance that one seldom encounters at a rock concert these days. The album's hard, blues-based songs, "It Ain't Nothin' to Me," "Spike" and "Dogs on the Run," in which a contemporary Southern rebel expresses his regional pride as an animalistic indifference to contemporary culture, were drawn out by full-bodied arrangements that featured the snarling guitar solos of the Heartbreakers' lead guitarist, Mike Campbell. And Mr. Petty's surly, half-strangulated vocals, echoing Bob Dylan and the Byrds' Roger McGuinn, more than matched the recorded versions in dramatic impact. Mr. Petty's quaveringly articulated rendition of the new album's hymnlike title song provided the still point around which the rest of the songs cohered.

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Petty Puts Focus On Social Ills
By Robert Hilburn
The Los Angeles Times - Monday, June 8, 1987

Tom Petty is a classic American rocker who used to supplement his own songs in concert with party-minded numbers by Chuck Berry and other early rock or R&B figures.

On Saturday night at the Pacific Amphitheatre, he instead spotlighted "For What It's Worth," the Buffalo Springfield's memorable 1967 reaction to repressive authority.

He and the Heartbreakers' version was darkly poignant, but in no way merely nostalgic. There was an anger and disconsolation in Petty's voice that seemed directed entirely at today's unsettled--and unsettling--social agenda.

Do you think he and the band--who open a four-night stand tonight at the Universal Amphitheatre--were trying to tell us something?

Absolutely.

There's a subtle injection of social comment in several tracks on the group's outstanding new "Let Me Up (I've Had Enough)" album, but Petty--speaking to the audience much more freely between songs than before--was even more aggressive about social issues on stage.

To avoid the impression of a lecture, the lean, blond singer weaved remarks about social problems--the homeless, preteens on crack, the unemployed--into a story about troubling things he has seen from the window of his tour bus.

He then turned to a more specific reflection about the credibility of people who are looked upon, to varying degrees, as leaders in this country. Whom do you trust anymore, he asked. Reagan? Bush? Falwell? The CIA?

"It dawned on me a few days ago that in this time and age, you'd better trust yourself," he continued, moving into the Springfield song.

After that tune, Petty referred to the May 17 fire that destroyed his Encino house--a fire that officials believe was deliberately set. "Someone burned my house down," he said. Holding his guitar over his head, he added, "But he didn't burn this down. . . ."

Again using the rock example to illustrate a larger point, he continued, "You can have (all kinds of material possessions), but it ain't nothing. It's just stuff. . . ."

Petty then went into "The Waiting," one of his many early compositions that deals with the struggle to maintain integrity.

This toughened social attitude and more open manner on stage gave the evening a freedom and focus that makes this tour shape up as potentially the Heartbreakers' best in years. Things should get even better as the quintet begins featuring more songs from the new album. (Saturday's lineup offered only three of the new tunes, including the raucous single, "Jammin' Me" and the melancholy "It'll All Work Out.")

After living up to the considerable challenge last year of playing behind rock's greatest songwriter (Dylan), the Heartbreakers gave themselves another sizable test in inviting two frisky, upcoming bands to open the shows: the Georgia Satellites and the Del Fuegos.

If there were any signs of cobwebs in the veteran group, they would be magnified on a bill with these energetic outfits. But there were no signs of wear. Indeed, the Heartbreakers seem revitalized, played with a freshness and hunger that is in keeping with the spunk and craft of the new Petty tunes.

Both the Satellites and the Del Fuegos are no-nonsense, guitar-oriented bar bands, though the Satellites' good-times manner is a lot more appealing than the Del Fuegos' somewhat colorless and unduly insistent irreverence.

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Michael Jackson at Irvine: Still Dazzling but Distant
Wednesday November 9, 1988 Chris Willman
The Los Angeles Times

Early Monday night at the Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre, Michael Jackson brought out background singer Sheryl Crow to duet with him on his hit "I Just Can't Stop Loving You." He sang the verses to her. He even halfheartedly tried to indulge in a little Prince-style randy interplay with her.

But when it came time to sing the chorus, Jackson couldn't seem to bring himself to address that title phrase to her.

"I just can't stop loving you ," Jackson sang, turning to us, the audience. And like a jealous lover, we believed it.

Never mind that Jackson no more attempted to connect with the crowd than he did with Crow during this, his first-ever solo Southland appearance. He didn't, in the slightest, and that presented the most glaring void in this physically impressive but emotionally impersonal spectacle.



It's just that we sensed that this child/man--the biggest of today's pop stars--could not possibly love a mere woman--one on one--the way he loves us as a huge, anonymous monolith. A girlfriend might interact with him and give him a few moments of pleasure, but his fans, just by passively being there, make it possible for him to feel comfortable two hours a night in the one place he possibly really feels at home: on stage.

Michael Jackson's social discomfort has been so well-documented--the fake, timid smiles seen at public press conferences and unveilings; the shyness and admitted loneliness in private--that it came almost as a relief to see him so relaxed and exuberant again in concert.

And though he's now in the 14th month of his world tour, it was endearing during the show's third number, "Another Part of Me," to see the look of pure, beatific bliss on Jackson's face as he closed his eyes, spun around, landed on his toes and did all the usual right moves. Jackson really seemed to be still enjoying this--caught up and self-hypnotized in his own private, wonderful world.

That unspoken joy spoke volumes. And if all Jackson did during his 2-hour-plus show was sing and dance alone at center stage, his cup running over with contentment and talent, the crowd might never notice the absence of any attempt at connection.

As it was, too much of this dazzling, overlong, draining, occasionally brilliantly entertaining show was hyped up with production numbers that seemed to come out of somewhere between Las Vegas and Disneyland (Liza meets Siegfried & Roy on the set of "Captain Eo"?), leaving the human element abandoned somewhere around Barstow.

Of the set pieces, "Smooth Criminal" provided the highlight early on, with Jackson surrounded by four male dancers in early gangster attire. This number provided the best choreography of the evening, with the dancers using moves that were occasionally as goonily masculine as they were smoothly executed, with an obvious nod to Fred Astaire and the film noir parody segment of "The Band Wagon."

It soon became apparent, however, that most of the production numbers would reprise the themes and visuals of Jackson's video clips--most of which, of course, are not as new as "Smooth Criminal."

During "Thriller," Michael wore a werewolf mask and his four dancers became zombies. "The Way You Make Me Feel," with background singer Crow strutting her stuff before the eyes of the ogling male dancers, became an ode to leering at women a la the video. "Dirty Diana" had Jackson playing off of heavy-metal guitar soloist Jennifer Batten, who, with her mane of wild blond hair, had even been made to look like the video's Steve Stevens. And so on.



Michael, are you still in there? Did that last magic trick swallow you up and spit out a video hologram? Come out, come out, wherever you are!

And, as if he heard us calling, suddenly the dancers and props disappeared, and there was "Billie Jean," as electrifying as ever. As often as we've all seen the moonwalk on TV, his first full-scale version of the physics-defying dance step was an event worthy of ticket-selling (and scalping) in itself.

It was those moments that had Jackson alone at center stage, combining the two things he does best, that were revelations--not emotional revelations, certainly, but nonetheless the kind of intensely personal expression that can't be designed by Disney and turned on by remote control at 5-minute intervals.

Jackson's three-night Irvine Meadows stint continues through tonight, followed by six shows Sunday through Tuesday and Nov. 20-22 at the L.A. Sports Arena. All dates are sold out

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The Observer - Sunday July 17, 1988
A principal boy in total control
by John Peel

The last time I saw Michael Jackson at Wembley, he was a diminutive fifth of the Jackson 5, cute and precocious. On Thursday he returned as superhero, larger and appearing stranger than life, with a show I do not expect to see equalled in my lifetime.

The evening paper had a story of spivs selling tickets for the Jackson show at £150 a time. The dispirited scousers I spoke to outside told an altogether different tale. Ruin, I gathered, stared them in the face. Repressing the urge to press coppers into their hands, I continued the yomp in from beyond the extended wheel-clamp/tow-away zone, having left the racer in an area which only a year or so ago was probably all sylvan glades and babbling brooks alive with carp.

Once installed in Section 80 with the £5 tour programme and a packet of plain crisps, I settled back in anticipation of a feast of fun. All about me citizens were peering at the empty stage through cardboard opera glasses bearing the "Bad" logo, while others attached "Bad" balloons to their clothing. Below us the huddled masses cheered each time the Michael Jackson Pepsi advertisement appeared on the screens at the side of the stage.

At six o'clock, we cheered as technicians took their places. Five minutes later we enjoyed the first of few Mexican waves. An hour later Radio 1's Gary Davies appeared to ask whether we were ready to boogie before urging a big Wembley welcome for Kim Wilde.

I felt a bit sorry for Kim. Very much the bread roll with which we toy absent-mindedly while awaiting the meal, she had yet, as the tabloids had emphasised with their usual quiet persistence, to meet Michael Jackson. But there she was, waving a red scarf and bending over a lot so that the cameras could catch the cleavage. 'It's great to be here,' she said. After a song or two a discussion developed in our row about the catering staff, who were dealing out the lager and cold dogs in what seemed to be Motherwell colours. We reached no important conclusions.

In the interval we amused ourselves by leaping up from time to time to gawp at celebrities arriving in the glass-fronted banqueting suite. We liked Frank Bruno the best. But suddenly there was thunderous music from the stage, a battery of lights blazed out over the audience and there, scarcely believably, was Michael Jackson.

'How ya doin,' he asked after a couple of hits. Well, I was as fine as anyone with sore feet standing in a cold, damp football stadium could be - but how was Michael? From close-ups on the twin screens, he did not look too good. The famous remodelled face glowed faintly inhuman beneath a surfeit of rouge - and his performance to date had been curiously uninvolving, despite our overfamiliarity with it from a host of videos.

But Michael Jackson clearly needs a few minutes to get into gear and as the costume changes came and went and the stage and lighting effects grew more audacious, he took control with a performance of matchless virtuosity. Making much of stagecraft learned, surely, from James Brown - especially a device whereby a song apparently finished, with the star seemingly in emotional crisis, frozen save for lips moving as though in prayer, would be reprised - Jackson led his dancers, singers and musicians, all fearsomely well-drilled and rakishly handsome, through less a sequence of songs, more a series of scenes, the whole resembling some futuristic, technological pantomime, with Michael Jackson himself a distillation of all principal boys, singing some of the world's best known songs and dancing with such authority, timing and energy that the odd action replay would not have come amiss.

My only wish is that my children could have been there to see this stupendous performance. It is something they would never have forgotten.

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This was the first time I saw soft cell. I bunked off work in Leicester and caught the bus to derby with no idea how I was gonna get home and didn't care. I spent the day hanging around outside the assembly rooms and met both Marc and Dave. Even managed to get in backstage and pinched Marc's dressing room poster.

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There is a great review and some images of this concert here: Gov't Mule
but it is in german language.
First ever Mule show in Germany. It was first scheduled for the tiny and sweaty Logo club but quickly moved to the larger Große Freiheit 36. But this was also sold out ... though ....

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Two stages for this gig, local acts Razar and the Riptides played in the Cement Box a little theatre under the Refectory and the other National Acts played upstairs. For my money the local acts took the glory here as they both played storming sets. I didn't see James Griffin (ex The Agents "Suburbs Of The Heart") but the unsigned at the time Mental As Anything were scrappy but inspired at times. Dave Warner was, as he always was, and predictably produced a set of theatrical, overblown pub-rock which was good but nothing to write home about.

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A huge disappointment. So far this is the only gig I've ever walked out of half way through. The sound was appalling, apparently mixed by DragonForce's own guy rather than the usual one from the Academy.

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A sort of community project for young people, the bands didn't play in this order however as far as I know only the various members of The Persuaders would go onto make records (The Curtains, Hipster, Hoodwinks etc).

On the back of the ticket I have written (about the Persuaders) "three people danced!"

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With Norman Blake now residing in Canada this was a rare live appearance in London and TFC were of course as dependably excellent as ever. This was very much a greatest hits set with only a few songs from their new album (out this week). The new songs sounded great and I'm glad I've pre-ordered the vinyl. Highlights for me were 'The Concept' (with a massive crowd singalong), 'Your Love Is The Place Where I Come From' and 'Sparky's Dream'.

A lovely venue too with only the bar letting it down (£5 tinned beer and then it's poured into a plastic glass)

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Amazing concert! Stevie played for 4 hours with a 30-minute intermission.

The album became one long extended jam, with superb added touches - "The Letter" and "People Get Ready" were just two - and the genius was on top form! Very funny, a natural entertainer.

I was very impressed with Pharrell Williams! What a show he put on!

I always found Corinne Bailley Rae dull - maybe it was the live environment but I enjoyed her set, too.

My knees are still aching but wow, what a day! :thumbsup:

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A fantastic show with a set list that included most of the first three albums even though "Porcupine" was over a year away from proper release. I ambled up straight after work on the day, primarily to get to front of the queue but took my camera in the hope of getting shots of the show. Lo and behold when I arrive the Bunnies are doing a soundcheck for the show (see pic above) so I just started taking pics and tried to look like I was meant to be there. After the soundcheck I had a long chat with all the "Bunnies" out the front of the venue.
Then their car arrived to take them to dinner before the show and just as the "Bunnies" were hopping in (he-he) Mac turned to me and yelled " Hey, do want to come to dinner and show us round town a bit before the show." I was waiting for fiends to turn up, you know the kind, and in a split second made made a very bad decision and decided to wait for my compadres. When they arrived they noticed that I was very pissed off in spite of the arrival some top class contraband. I told them the story of what had happened earlier - they told me I was full of shit. When the Bunnies returned, they saw me at the front of the queue and came over and told me they'd had a good time and then ushered me and my bewildered friends in for free.
An absolutely astounding show followed and I got to sit on the stage and freely take pics all night. What an idiot to miss dinner with the Bunnies but I did manage to snap some shots of the show and soundcheck and found some in a shoebox the other day. So I'll tack some on.

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Travelled north to Leeds for this gig because Shepherds Bush Empire is just too big - especially for something as intimate as a Mountain Goats gig.

The journey was absolutely worthwhile. The venue is a perfect size, sight lines are good, and the audience was respectful (ie not talking through the quiet parts). Opening, The Weather Station, reminded me considerably of Joni Mitchell. She is well worth catching. The Mountain Goats, a 4 piece this time (I've seen 1, 2 and 3 piece versions before), were as ever, magnificent. Dipping between new songs and the sterling catalogue, the long set flashed by much too quickly. There is a great catharsis in the favorites with which the whole audience sings along. No "Best Ever Death Metal Band Out of Denton" tonight (wasn't expecting it after recent happenings in Kunduz), so "No Children" was the climax.. the lyrics spent much of the next three days lodged in my head.

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Great show featuring Dave Gonzalez (Paladins, Hacienda Brothers) on vocals and lead guitar backed by the Branded Men: Glen Earl Brown Jr., bass and vocals; Dave Zirbel,, steel guitar; and Dana Burt, drums. 2 sets of Hacienda Brother originals and classic country with super interplay between the Dave's guitar and steel. Guest Sylvia sat-in on second set singing and playing bass on 2 Ray Price songs.

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Die gesamte frankfurter Krautrock-Prominenz geht mal wieder zusammen ins «Bett». Ein paar Neu-Progger dürfen auch kommen, aber ein aufgeschnappter Publikums-O-Ton „Ist hier irgendjemand jünger als ich?“ hat schon so seine Berechtigung. Das Konzert der Franzosen: ein Pflichttermin, dessen Empfehlung auch ich mich zum ersten Mal anschließe. MAGMA entstand in meinem Jahrgang, genau wie KING CRIMSON (die so einige Leute aus dem Publikum erst vor einigen Wochen live gesehen haben dürften, darauf kann man sich einigen) und mich erwarten merkwürdige Dinge. Jazziges, Rockiges, Experimentelles, Chorales, eine Phantasiesprache und laaaaange Stücke - oder wie ein Bekannter mir vor der Tür erzählt: „Naja, ich hab sie zuletzt 1979 gesehen. Die spielen 2 Stücke, dann dürfen wir Zugabe klatschen und dann spielen sie noch 1 Stück. Fertig.“ ☺ Und genauso war’s! Sie sind Pioniere des Progrocks, haben ein hohes Standing bei ihren Fans („Hallo, ich bin Volker und bin extra für dieses Konzert aus Bielefeld angereist!“ – ja, ähm, wo war das nochmal? Hihi.), der letzte Auftritt von ihnen in FFM soll wohl in den späten 80ern gewesen sein, falls ich die Ansage richtig verstanden hab. Schlagzeuger CHRISTIAN VANDER (fast 70) ist übriggebliebenes Gründungsmitglied, gehört zu den besten 100 Schlagzeugern der Welt und hat sein erstes Drumset von Chet Baker geschenkt bekommen. Die Kompositionen sind zum größten Teil von ihm selbst und man merkt die Liebe zu hippieskem Schwurbeln, sowie zur Ernsthaftigkeit (ein Albumcover aus den 70ern ist von HR Giger), zu diversen Jazzgrößen oder auch zu klassischer Musik wie zB Carl Orff. Außerdem hat er einen eigenen experimentellen Solo-Gesangspart, was bei Drummern ja eher unüblich ist. Ich muss stilistisch ein paar Mal an EMBRYO denken, (ebenfalls ein musikalischer Familienbetrieb, bei MAGMA singt Ehefrau Vander mit). 7 Leute stehen auf der Bühne, allein 3 am Gesang, dazu Drums, Bass, Gitarre, div. Keyboards und ein Vibraphon. Zum Glück sind keine Blasinstrumente an Bord, solche Töne werden ausschließlich vom bärtigen Tastenmann mit der Pudelmütze erzeugt, den ich meist nur von hinten als Silhouette zu sehen bekomme. Das Bett ist trotz teurer Tickets sehr voll, die Musik groovt streckenweise erstaunlich gut, blubbert richtig nach vorn und hat auch laute Passagen, live bringt das mehr Dampf als auf Platte. Der Bassist verbiegt sich oft, der Gitarrist verzieht grinsend das Gesicht und der Mann am Vibraphon im MAGMA-Shirt legt sich mit bis zu 4 Klöppeln gleichzeitig mächtig ins Zeug und holt sehr weit aus. Viele begeisterte Zwischenquietscher und Applaus gibt’s aus dem Publikum. Doch doch, das hatte schon alles eine Klasse für sich, qualitativ guter Gig, auch wenn mein Jazz-Pensum für dieses Jahr nun voooorerst gedeckt sein dürfte. ;-)
Setlist: 
1. Theusz Hamtaahk / 
2. Mekanik Destruktiw Kommandöh / 
3. Zombies

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Turned up to see The Buzzcocks on 'A different Kind Of Tension' tour and took in an eery performance by Joy Division. Sat high at the back of the now demolished concert venue I was behind a crew of smartly dressed Manchester lads wearing flannel pegs and knot knitted jumpers and buttoned down grey shirts [Peter Hook like]. The southern Buzzcocks audience were mostly still at school and looking like the weekend punks they probably were. Things were already different and a taste of how the 80s would unfold. Joy Division made a racket. Their live set was uncompromising jagged shards of sound. Some of the songs were familiar from Peel sessions and the appearance on Something Else [BBC2]—'She's Lost Control'. Sumner removed his guitar to assume synth duties for what would become Decades on Closer and then the set came to an abrupt halt as Ian Curtis collapsed and had to be helped off stage. As the Buzzcocks started their evening Pete Shelley asked the audience to make sure the ambulance could make a clear path as the singer of Joy Division was being taken to hospital. From my perspective The Buzzcocks made a good fist of it but it was Joy Division who burned into the consciousness that wet November evening near the sea.

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Tight solid performance just post London Calling release billed as the 16 Tons. The Stateside was a venue in an underground bowling alley formed in early 60s concrete on Redfern Road in the Village Bowl complex. Sonically hard on the ears, very loud with a hard floor and sweat condensation forming on the low ceiling and walls—a perfect setting. The south coast crowd of aging prog converts, teenage punks, the odd mod [hurling phlegm and racist abuse at the support act Mickey Dread] and assorted musos. Mr Dread appeared solo toasting over a sound system soundtrack based on African Anthem and the imminent World War 3 Long Players. Many non-plussed non reggae heads in the audience but appreciated by those in the know. The venue went dark and on came assorted roadies and then moving lit cigarettes in the dark as Jones [band's right], Headon, Strummer [centre] and Simenon [left] burst into the opening number, Clash City Rockers. Hard guitar rock'n'roll, Loud, raucus and on track with the first album in terms of rawness, the band held it together for well over an hour with a short encore and then they were gone. Strummer led the band playing hard rhythm guitar stabs across Jones abrasive lead and moody death stares—'offering out' the schoolboys on the left in the audience... "wanna fight mate?". All the great first three album songs got an airing along with a couple of average tracks that in this setting became stellar. The Clash. The only band to follow... Stateside Bob

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I was at this gig, 17 years old, and, as I recall, they did around the same number of encores i.e. 17. The energy was phenomenal. It was the Ramones with a Molotov cocktail. They were in your face, but not for the sake of it, they weren't simply being 'naughty' or confrontational teenagers. They were saying something and their anger was born of frustrations with the social conditions caused by the Troubles.
What a band, what an album. 'Wasted life', just one of many gems.
There's a lot of guitar pop, not simply punk and poppy punk, in there. Surprised no one has covered 'Barbed Wire Love' or 'Breakout'. 'Alternative Ulster' is also a wonderful song, seminal - though of its time; so it couldn't really be re-worked today.
Great band, great gig, an honour to have been there.
Guy Mortensen

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the concert was brilliant: it's over fifty years now, but there's an image - much more than a mind's eye camera shot - that's forever etched in my most-valued memories:

central hall, purpose-designed concert venue for full orchestras, well-designed for the audience, mostly too, steeply inclined so everyone has clear sight-lines down to the stage; but this does mean you have to step carefully on the way down to the bar at the interval...

the lights had gone down after the end of one number, and the dim shapes of the figures of the band leaving the stage in the dark, and roadies moving instruments or mikes to their accustomed resting places for the musicians to pick up again after the interval, had all gone, so everything on stage'd stopped moving, and people in the audience were standing up, some starting to move down the steps of the aisles before the house lights are brought up, to get to the bar that's underneath the concert hall level before the queues start, a little buzz of conversations beginning...

- and the notes of a very simple repeating figure start from just one line on one guitar being played on the darkened stage...

- and - most - people slowly hush...

- and the guitar figure continues - and it's simple, but beautiful - and i don't think many people realise what it is, they're just mostly enchanted -

- and stood there, those as'd got up, or even onto the stairs - frozen, spellbound -

- and steve winwood's voice comes in, again, very, very simply:

- ''i'm looking for a girl who has no face: she has no name, or number...''

- and steve winwood's holding the entire audience spellbound, with yr hmbl srppnt. amongst them all, to the very last word, and the very last note of the guitar figure of single notes that he's been repeating, one after another without fail, or error, or change in rhythm or timing, or emphasis...

- and for maybe a clear minute - an entire clear minute - there isn't a sound. even from the bar.

- total silence.

- and then, initially very, very quietly, you can hear people begin to breathe again.

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Out of hundreds of Live gigs I've been to over the last half century..Gulp! THIS one was up there with the VERY best. The two support acts were fantastic..but U2 were something else (In fact, I would go as far as saying the boys were out of this world..it was THAT good). We had the best seats in the house!! (first row of the new directors' seats that had been used for the very first time)..Celtic Park was in the middle of a new stadium build at the time.

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According to my diary, Dick Envy were "terrible" and The Adverts "weren't much better ... TV Smith was the only one who knew what he was doing". Sounds like a cracker.

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(This is a review I wrote for a fanzine at the time)
"As soon as we paid to get in we were given a Jam badge, pretty good.. most bands would charge 50p or so for that.
Radio Stars were on first; their music was rock with heavy metal / commercial leanings but they tried to act like new wavers. At one point lead singer Andy Ellison took off his plain T-shirt and put on a paint-splattered one. Hmm.. 5 out of 10.
When The Jam came on everybody cheered but didn't really exert themselves so after a couple of songs Paul Weller (guitar, vocals) told the audience to dance. After a few more numbers then 'In The City' the place went wild. Almost everyone there was dancing. The band played 'Non-Stop Dancing', 'Time For Truth' (a killer), 'Takin' My Love', 'Slow Down', 'Art School', 'Changed My Address', 'London Girl', and the Batman theme among others.
The stage sound was clear as a bell, really ace. The individual musicians know how to play R'n'B, Paul Weller smashing the chords out of his Rickenbacker like there's no tomorrow (cliché), Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler (bass and drums respectively) are an A1 rhythm unit, moving through the set like a pair of bulldozers. That reminds me, 'Bricks And Mortar' is just about THE social commentary on the housing problem. Strong stuff. They went off, came back, went off, came back, went off, came back. Then went home I suppose. Three encores, really demanded by the crowd. Real value for money although you go home knackered through dancing so much."

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This was Petula’s debut appearance live in the United States which garnered great reviews .
Opening act was comedian Lee Tully

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I was there brilliant gig

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This concert was really behind schedule on the night and the band asked for volunteers from the audience to help them clear the stage after the gig. I volunteered and helped out

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Long day's journey into the night

By Joe Breen

DUBLIN'S victory In Croke Park yesterday was not the only victory for the city. For in Dalymount Park before a crowd of approximately 11000 People, Thin Lizzy fronted by its own black pearl, Phil Lynott returned to their native city in rip roaring fashion.

The day-long concert, which began at 3 o'clock, and attracted people from all over the country produced no violent scenes and though there were a few minor scuffles, one of the Red Cross men told me later that all in all it had been a very well behaved and happy crowd. The weather also held up with just some drizzles towards the end.
The promoter, Pat Murphy, who spent over £35,000 in staging the show, can be quite happy, as in indeed he was, with the day's proceedings.

The concert began with some local bands, including " The Radiators from Space", which pleased many in the audience. Next came Fairport with its own brand of celtic-rock.

However, the first band to arouse the crowd in a major way was the Boomtown Rats, who displayed a total lack of inhibition coupled with forthright aggression in producing a set worthy of a band breaking big In Britain at the moment. The band, all from Dublin, who have a new single released at the moment, "Looking After No. 1", appear on Top of the POPS next Thursday, which, for once, should be worth watching, especially with singer Bob Geldof, in such raucous form.

The next band on were Graham Parker and the Rumour. By this stage the crowd had grown considerably larger owing to the extra 2,000 or so People who came after the match in Croke Park. Earlier, when Ken Stewart had announced Dublin's win over Kerry, the crowd had responded in the expected fashion, chanting "Dublin Dublin”, but their main heroes were yet to come.

Although Parker and his band played a very fine set with all the panache and fervour for which they are renowned, all they really did as the rest of the concert did, was provide an appetiser for the main fare of the evening.

Thin Lizzv, of which two of the four members are from Dublin. but which Is generally recognised as a Dublin band, if not in body, in spirit, took to the stage in a haze of smoke and flashes which Introduced their first number, Soldiers of Fortune, which is on their new album soon to be released. "Bad Reputations."

Phil Lynott, the band's bassist, writer, singer and general leading personality, who is probably unique in that he is the only black Dublin rock star, warmed to the audience's reaction and performed his by now ritual antics such as the black power salute with an almost visible joy at being home once again.

And the crowd, totally at one with their hero, responded feverishly. Ken Stewart, the compere for the day, had introduced the band with the phrase culled from its own hit single, " The Boys Are Back In Town" — which aptly reflected the empathy between the singer and the crowd. The band ended the day with two encores; “Me and Boys were wondering what you and girls were doing on the way home from Dalymount” and "The Rocker" which sent the weary and hoarse crowd happily home to their beds.

The facilities provided by the promoter seemed to meet with the approval of the crowd. There was little overt criticism of how the show was run, both from the crowd's point of view and that of the artists. There were no police on duty Inside the ground, so the young People happily enjoyed their little wrong-doings, such as the odd marijuana joint and open cuddle and kiss In the shady corners of the pitch.

Later, the organisers said the day had been a total success and expressed hopes of another concert in similar vein in the future. The were no names mentioned, through Rod Steward would appear to be a favourite among some of Mr. Murphy troops.

Original Review

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Stylee who became Friends of Gavin were an awesome Band..what happened to them?

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Of course I was there! I was the guitarist for the BTM's.

What a band we were. Pushed a lot of frontiers. Either you loved us or hated us.

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