Harry Paterson

So, what did I miss this weekend? What happened? I could see that spring appears to have sprung. Vaguely, from a distance and through the smeared windows of my soul, dizzy from the thousands upon thousands of words cranked out over the last two days, while you bastards were, no doubt, having fun and all the other stuff normal folk have when not working.

Here, the weekend has consisted of racing for the deadline. Ten albums reviewed for Powerplay, a three thousand-word interview with the mighty Jeff ‘God’ Soto for Midlands Rocks and a last minute no-problem-if-you-can’t-H piece on Frank Maddocks, the dude responsible for the new Slash album artwork for Classic Rock.

I made the mistake of moaning about all this to my brother dude, Mick Wall. He  cackled maliciously. “Welcome to my world, H!” he crowed. “You know what I’m gonna say and you’re gonna hate me for saying it but…” and so, in unison, we duly chanted our personal little mantra; “Just bang the shite out!” Yeah. Cheers, Mick…

So, at eleven of the clock on Sunday evening, with the shite duly banged out and deadlines met, I’m pausing for breath to tell you a few things.

Firstly, on Saturday evening, I took a few hours off that I could ill-afford to catch former Isolysis main-man, Bane’s new act, A Thousand Enemies, play a show in Derby. I was far more nervous about this than he was. After all, I’d nailed my colours firmly to their mast on the basis of one single and attendance at one half-hour rehearsal before Xmas.

I really ought to have more faith in myself, frankly. They were astonishing. Much more metal than Isolysis were but, incredibly, infused with more melodic catchiness than even that once-remarkable band.

Songs like Let Me In, Hadleys Hope and Gutter Life were nothing less than superb and if anyone was wondering how a band, barely two minutes old, with only one single to their name and, at that time, with only two gigs under their belt, managed to land a slot at this year’s Hammerfest, well, the reason was clear for all to see.

A Thousand Enemies rocked hard with a savage, metallic bite that never for a moment lost anything of a melodic sensibility that is deliciously commercial and, coupled with an irresistible rhythmic pull, only confirms what I said before Xmas; these fellas really do deserve to be huge. My good friend, Fahran manager, Beth Windsor, summed it up best. Referring to Bane’s Space Invader T-shirt, she remarked, “Space Invader is right; this band are too good and too big to play venues like this”

Tight didn’t even come close. This was one of those rare gigs that was so immensely enjoyable it was with something akin to astonishment that you realized they’d finished. The whole thing seemed to rip by in about twenty minutes. What a treat. Catch ‘em soon, people. You’ll have the time of your life. Trust me.

Other things deserving of your attention are this month’s Powerplay and no; not because I write for it but because there’s some cracking stuff in this month’s issue, not least a great feature on Rammstein.

And while you’re at it, pick up this month’s Classic Rock. There’s a thoroughly excellent feature on Randy Rhoads by Mick. And no it aint ’cause he’s a mate but because he’s a great writer and always mananges to find something new and interesting to say about even the most done-to-death subjects. Another of Mick’s little pearls of wisdom, that came my way, was the instruction to never assume you know the story. Go where it takes you and let it write itself. Such is the case here and well worth any self-respecting rock fan’s time.

And finally, if all that wasn’t enough, a dear friend of ours called in earlier with a little gift for your’s truly. A bottle of my fave poison; ten year-old Laphroig. Nom nom, I believe the kids would say. In fact, that’s my cue, I reckon. Laters, y’all…