Gig #15: 1 in 12 Club, Bradford 26 April 2014

Tonight’s support act is local Bradford heroes The Family Elan. This unique trio, led by Chris Hladowski, are often described as playing ‘psychedelic folk-rock’ but if you think you’re going to get a Byrds-soundalike, or Country Joe and The Fish wannabes you’re barking up the wrong tree, sister. Think David Lindley’s Kaleidoscope instead. Then think Kaleidoscope’s “Egyptian Gardens” or “Rampè Rampè” and you’re getting close. The Family Elan is the 1960s routed not through the Indian sub-continent and it’s incense and meditation, but through Greece, Turkey and the souks, hookah bars and mosques of north Africa. Supported by a bass-and-drum rythmn section, Hladowski alternates between the bouzouki and the baglama saz (‘elektrosaz’) played through a series of effects pedals, producing a shimmering, spine-tingling wall of sound that’s danceable, too. It’s like being caught in one of Scheherezade’s dreams after she’s quaffed a glass of honeyed tea laced with LSD. Intense and very enjoyable.

It’s also worth noting that Hladowski is one of that elite group of maverick musicians – alongside Robert ‘The Chief’ Lloyd – who continue to pioneer the wearing of glasses onstage.

Edward ‘Ted’ Chippington is up next, and though he soon has the audience mesmerised and chanting along to his strange, acapella rap numbers he is clearly not a happy man tonight. He’s been told, in no uncertain terms, that he cannot take a can of his beloved Stella Artois onstage with him this evening. The 1 in 12 security team in their hi-viz cable-knit blousons have informed Chippington that the drink’s reputation – captured neatly in its street name: ‘Wife Beater’ – does not sit well with the superior ethical stance of the club, or the aims of BWA.

 

Chippington’s mood was not improved when, just as he was about to take the stage, a special emergency meeting of the club’s steering committee had to be convened to vote on whether or not to allow him to go onstage clutching a can of Aldi’s St. Etienne Premium Belgian-style lager (pictured left: ABV 5%) owing to its uncanny resemblance to the reassuringly more expensive Stella Artois product. Their decision, published here at the committee’s insistence, follows:

“The Artist [viz. Edward ‘Ted’ Chippington] may exceptionally take onstage a can of the disputed lager [viz. Aldi St. Etienne Premium Belgian-style ABV 5%] provided that the following conditions be observed: (1) That no more than one can of said lager be consumed per hour played thereon; (2) That the prominent St. Etienne label be alternatively turned away from the audience, or shielded from said audience by said Artist’s hand for the entirety of the performance; (3) That the decision reached by the committee, and ratified ipso facto e pluribus unum on this day, be published in full on all social media or otherwise public spaces used by, or associated with, Mr. Chippington and his heirs, goods and chattels in perpetuity, so help us God (or Gods) assuming S/He (or They) exist.”

 

Chippington, of course, is a pro, and the audience get no wind of the tense negotiations that he and Mark ‘Ace’ Jones have had to endure prior to his set. He leaves the stage to rapturous and obedient applause, and after a short interval in which the audience are treated to traditional protest songs from the 1960s (Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind” and Donovan’s “Catch the Wind” are two that spring to mind) the band walk onstage to... The Scorpions’ classic hit single “Wind of Change”! Readers interested enough to have checked out my profile will know that I, along with my son Rudi, play in a Scorpions tribute band called Wind of Change. I take this choice of music as a mark of the affection that has grown up over the past two weeks between the band and myself.

Fuelled by their gourmet vegan burgers and copious amounts of Aldi’s St. Etienne Premium Belgian-style lager, the band are certainly pumping tonight. They seem to have the wind at their back as they breeze through their set. It’s as though the imminent end of the tour (this is the penultimate gig of the UK leg) has induced in them an urgency to let it all out, to lay their cards on the table, so to speak. You can almost cut the atmosphere with a knife. Bass notes explode from behind Schmid as he hunches over his guitar; Lloyd – harmonica in hand – squeezes out strangled honking sounds which are blown offstage by the hurricane unleashed by Kitson. Apperley’s gut-wrenching guitar-playing seems to bubble up from the very bowels of rock ‘n’ roll. It’s an intoxicating brew and the audience are clearly blown away by it. The band leave the stage to tumultuous applause and rush backstage keen, no doubt, to relax after their triumphant night's work.