April 16, 2003, Manchester, UK
Gold Blade frontman John Robb is a cultural commentator with shows on
TV, self-appointed standard bearer of the punk rock torch and a
familiar face about town who can always be relied on for a friendly
argument. His band have gone through a few line up changes and the
added muscle of an extra guitarist and spritely stand up drummer serves
them well. Familar old singles "Black Elvis" and "Strictly Hardcore"
form the backbone of their set which sees Robb stripping to the waist
and charging about like a kid half his age, climbing the PA like he's
on a mission to get Joe Strummer Action Man dolls patented. When he
makes a daft speech about the only valid subjects for rock songs being
sex, death and revolution, I feel like bashing the silly bugger over
the head with a crate of WIRE CDs and some heavy Shellac vinyl! Gold
Blade might not be the most original band ever to tread the boards and
whilst Rocket From The Crypt comparisons are obvious there are also a
handful of songs that sound like they were written to celebrate "Shot
By Both Sides" being the greatest riff ever. Robb is surely astute
enough to realise that 2003 is looking like the biggest year for punk
rock since the late seventies, probably in part as an opposing reaction
to civil clampdown and war, and Gold Blade's angry anti-corporate
stance coupled with their partying mentality might just see them in the
right place. Some might say Dead Kennedys have had their day and I was
worried I might end up hating a band I'd loved but I was won over
pretty damn quickly about halfway through opener "Forward to Death." I
shouted along and had fun with the real mixed up crowd of old punks and
young 'uns. "Lets Lynch the Landlord" seemed to get the biggest
singalong. I had doubts about the singer Brandon Cruz, but he did the
songs justice and the band were shit hot. The guitarists in glasses
Klaus Flouride and East Bay Ray are like the revenge of the uber-nerds
and Cruz was certainly less active than Biafra back in the day, but
then he did have his arm in a sling after breaking it the night before.
There might be acrimony and rancour between Biafra and the rest of the
band, but his fighting spirit was unavoidable in all those caustic
critical lyrical barbs. Even if Cruz was a much less exciting performer
than Biafra, dreadlocked drummer DH Peligro had enough anger and
charisma for about ten bands. "Holiday in Cambodia" seemed an obviously
apocalyptic choice for a finale but wasn't acyually the end of it.
Klaus suffered bass strap failure but the band pulled the song back
into hard shape as if they had a a knife in their backs for a bowl of
rice a day. DKs charged back into a second encore featuring the two
most exciting numbers of the night, a hyper "Bleed For Me" (with
anti-Bush lyrical updates) and the sadly appropriate "Chemical
Warfare," the chaotic breakdown with Klaus Flouride shouting being
probably my favourite moment of the night. Or was that shouting "Lets
Lynch the Landlord" with a bunch of people who could identify with that
sentiment? Or was it the adrenaline rush of "Riot" or the pop punk
slayer single that never was "Moon Over Marin"? The whole gig was just
a rush of great songs and even if I'd have prefered them to have played
"Halloween" or "Soup is Good Food" instead of the silly cover songs,
they really couldn't have been better under the Biafra bereft
circumstances.
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