A Dream That Can Last

Looking back over the live music I've seen this year, there have been several high points.

In March I finally got to see the wonderful Half Man Half Biscuit at Cambridge's Junction. Nigel Blackwell's  unique blend of wry observation and poetic lyricism has amused and delighted for two and a half decades, and I was lucky to be able to catch one of their irregular and infrequent live shows.
The capacity crowd, sporting several Dukla Prague away kits, and even a set of Joy Division ovengloves, were treated to a set full of gems -

Restless Legs
Lock Up Your Mountain Bikes
Fuckin’ ‘Ell It’s Fred Titmus
Bad Losers On Yahoo Chess
A Lilac Harry Quinn
San Antonio Foam Party
Irk The Purists
Uffington Wassail
Bob Wilson Anchorman
Outbreak of Vitas Gerulaitis
Running Order Squabble Fest
Petty Sessions
The Light at the End of the Tunnel
All I Want For Christmas Is A Dukla Prague Away Kit
Bottleneck At Capel Curig
Look Dad No Tunes
The Ballad Of Climie Fisher (start)
Monmore Hare’s Running
Twenty Four Hour Garage People
National Shite Day
Trumpton Riots
For What Is Chatteris?
Apache
Venus In Flares 1966 And All That
Vatican Broadside
Footsteps
We Built This Village On A Trad. Arr. Tune
Evening Of Swing (Has Been Cancelled)
Joy Division Oven Gloves

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June, once again, meant Glastonbury, and my mates and I made our annual pilgrimage to Pilton.
The 2009 festival had produced a dream line-up for us chaps of, errm, a certain age, and in comparison this year looked rather less crammed with 'must-sees'. However, we need not have worried; this was Glasto after all, and it never disappoints. The whole five days saw sunshine and blue skies, with none of the traditional mud, and a seemingly limitless array of possibilities. For me, the two highlights were Muse on the iconic Pyramid Stage on Saturday night, and Toots & The Maytals on West Holts on a balmy late afternoon Sunday slot.
If ever a band was born to play on the Pyramid, it is Muse: the sound, the songs, the light show. They were totally at home as they powered through their impressive and varied catalogue of pyrotechnic-laden space-rock-funk-operatics. Joined by none other than The Edge, they threw in a punchy rendition of 'Where The Streets Have No Name' as a nod to the previous night's intended headliners.
Reggae original and living legend Frederick 'Toots' Hibbert and his band provided a perfect set of soul-infused reggae and ska for a summer afternoon party like no other. I've never seen so many people in one place grinning simultaneously. Loved it. Every second.

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August's weather was not so kind, and we had mud a-plenty at The Green Man Festival in the beautiful Brecon Beacons. A varied feast of music and comedy, with a strong folk and eco flavour, Green Man nestles among the hills in what could well be the most beautiful festival setting anywhere.
My two favourites here could hardly have been more different in presentation: one a solo acoustic performance in a tent, the other a riotous explosion of psychedelic thunder, lights, video, balloons and confetti under a smoke-laden night sky.
Kristian Matsson aka The Tallest Man On Earth is a Swedish singer-songwriter with a distinctive abrasive voice you'll either love or hate. Me, I love it. Combined with his driven, almost percussive, folk guitar style and poetic lyrics, it makes a compelling cocktail. A lively and entertaining performer, and refreshingly guileless, he filled the tent with happy faces, which was all the more impressive as his slot clashed Mumford and Sons on the main stage.
The sensory overload that is a Flaming Lips live show is difficult to describe using mere words. Having missed seeing them at Glastonbury, this was a definite for me, and they did not disappoint.