THE BLOCKHEADS

Photo: India Skye Charlton

Alexander's, Chester (23rd June 2024)

Review by Brian Gorman 

If you're in the grand city of Chester on a sweltering midsummer's Sunday evening, then there's no better place to experience a band than the gloriously atmospheric courtyard of Alexander's Live.

The Blockheads were the ideal outfit for a place like this. Full throttle funky, jazzy, blues rock echoing into the still summer air, and threatening to blow the (non-existent) roof off.

Any band that has to carry on after the sad demise of a charismatic, universally loved frontman like Ian Dury, has its work cut out. Few bands manage to pull it off, but in the manic, frenzied, firecracker figure of Mike Bennett, the Blockheads certainly have.

Playing in the compact, high walled courtyard, there's a feeling of attending a gladiatorial display at a modern day amphitheatre, with a certain theatrical quality thanks to a wrought iron, spiral staircase that the musicians needed to navigate on their route to the stage area. Bennett is the first to appear, entering carefully, unannounced, and casually secreting himself behind the sound desk. Out of sight of the audience (except for a few punters grabbing a beer in the bar), he prepared himself by slipping on a tweed flat cap, whilst crouched on his haunches, and waiting for his band mates to take their places.

Photo: India Skye Charlton

Faces familiar to the old school fans elicited the expected whoops and cheers, as the likes of guitarist Chaz Jankel appeared, and prepared themselves for battle.

Once the gang were ready, Bennett took his place at the mic stand, gave the audience a thousand yard stare, brandishing his black eyeliner enhanced peepers, and screaming out a gravelly, Essex twanged "Oi, Oi?!!"

With the capacity crowd now excitedly revved up, the band ease into their opening song, the tingly, seductive, piano-led 'Wake Up'. A deceptively gentle, yet cheeky, saucy little number that tickles the assorted nether regions of the audience. Mickey Gallagher caresses the ivories in fine, light-fingered style, while Bennett's croaky, Essex lad vocals perfectly channeled the spirit and attitude of Ian Dury. 'Wake Up (And Make Love To Me)' is the perfect opener, and a friendly challenge to the already up-for-it crowd to join in the forthcoming musical gangbang.

Photo: India Skye Charlton

Next up, in a rather similar (throbbing) vein, is 'I'm Partial To Your Abracadabra'. It's a non-stop erotic cabaret tonight, and the audience are lapping it up. Bennett encroaches on the punters on the front line, emitting a penetrating laser beam stare reminiscent of Gort the robot from 'The Day The Earth Stood Still'. The man is a totally wired, pale-faced Baron Samedi, working his disturbing, devilish magic with undisguised glee.  

The hits are greeted with frenzied appreciation, and prove to be evergreen delights. 'What A Waste' is a little more on the melancholy side, but retains the infectious tremble that permeates the Blockheads' creative output. 

Dave Lewis's sax squeals and pierces the dusk, and he manages to wander into the crowd, at one point. The courtyard makes for a truly immersive experience, and with this particular band, you really couldn't ask for a more sensationally integrated gig.

'Sex And Drugs And Rock And Roll' could be the band's manifesto, and has lead man Bennett indulging his theatrical side, wildly gesticulating to the near-frothing crowd. Chaz Jankel's guitar (alongside bassist Nathan King) brings every song to hysterical life, and as the co-writer of their biggest hits, is particularly  welcomed with enormous love and appreciation this evening. 

'Reasons To Be Cheerful (Part Three)', that crazy, early sample of cockney rap is delivered perfectly by Bennett, and gets the crowd dancing like delirious smurfs. John Roberts' savage, primal drumbeat kicks things off. Howling sax from Dave Lewis contributes the somewhat incongruous romantic interlude, and showcases the sheer playfulness and eccentricity of the Blockheads.  Of course, it's the opening bars of their number one chart-topper, 'Hit Me With Your Rythm Stick' that seals the deal, tonight. Bennett raises his game to ever more dizzying heights with this jerky, aggressive anthem, whilst also absolutely nailing the crooning, gentle vocals. The terrifyingly stuttering sax, combined with Mickey Gallagher's jangly, seductive piano is irresistible. This song is a living embodiment of a full-blown, driving, gathering orgasm.

On a sweltering summer's eve, in this boiling cauldron of passion, The Blockheads delivered a truly anarchic, lusty, adrenaline enhanced shafting of the primal erotic shared consciousness. A crazed celebration of the human condition, and all its unbridled, barely contained volcanic power. 

It's SO nice to be a lunatic.

THE GANGS OF NEW YORK

 Grosvenor Park Open Air Theatre, Chester

25th July 2024

Produced by Storyhouse

Adapted by Kieran Lynn

Directed by John Young

Until 31st August

Martin Scorsese's epic 2002 blockbuster movie 'Gangs Of New York' is far from an obvious choice for Storyhouse Chester's annual open air theatre season. In recent years I've enjoyed several sparkling productions of more traditional fare, such as 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', 'Romeo & Juliet', etc. With the Grosvenor Park location providing a generally convivial family atmosphere, with eager punters devouring picnics of expensive cheese and red wine, and the individual shows usually crammed with panto style tomfoolery, shoe-horned-in contemporary pop songs, and a feverish madcap 'anything goes' style, surely adapting this most visceral and bloodthirsty gangster drama was a huge gamble?

Well, indeed it is, but Storyhouse have managed to pull it off. Yes, there's the usual sensory overload of spirited musical numbers, and music hall style audience participation, including the regular breaking of the fourth wall with actors chasing each other through the audience, clambering over the legs of squealing punters, often snatching a drink from an unguarded bottle, or taking a glass out of an obliging audience member's hand (it's as if covid never happened!). But, and it's a big but, these end of the pier shennanigans only just about manage to sit comfortably alongside some brutal and gut-wrenching fight scenes. and tense stand-offs. For those of a nervous disposition, I'd recommend that you prepare yourself for some truly knuckle breaking, full-throated carnage!

Our protagonist is newly-arrived Irish immigrant John Morrissey (an amiable, and oft times feral Oisin Thompson), determined to make a life for himself in 19th century New York city, and succeed in the face of undiluted racism and rampant political corruption. The bustling, virtually lawless mean streets are awash with petty thieves and murderers, with the city barely held together by dirty money, under the counter favours, and old school bigotry. John finds a kindred spirit in the feisty and fiercely independent Maggie (a sparkly, enticing Hanora Kamen). She's an expert pickpocket, who can more than hold her own in a fight, and an icy breaker of hearts. 

John soon finds himself earning some much-needed cash in the murky, dog-eat-dog world of bare knuckle boxing. Cue some tasty, sweaty, half naked skirmishes featuring much spillage of the old claret. Morrissey beats his first opponent 'Chuck Connors' (Tom Benjamin), who just happens to be the champion of local gangster William 'The Butcher' Poole, and a deadly, murderous rivalry is born. James Sheldon has the unenviable task of taking on a role made famous by the great Daniel Day-Lewis, and succeeds admirably. He's a big, gruff, bear of a man. Often wading through scenes of carnage, sporting a blood spattered apron and a leather belt dangling an impressive array of professional butcher's knives. Sheldon radiates menace, his calm swagger justified when we see him burst into action, despatching hapless opponents with Terminator style, balletic efficiency. Bill's tough-as-nails, wife Lize is played in a no nonsense, seen-it-all way by the steely Joanne Howarth, who looks after her brutal husband's interests in an often disturbingly motherly way. 

James Sheldon as 'Bill The Butcher'

A special mention must go to Lucas Button as the naive and immensely likeable police constable Lew Barker. Smitten by the strong-willed Maggie, he soon finds himself caught between his allegiance to the greedy, whiskey-fuelled Mayor Fernando Wood (an often hilarious Robert Maskell) and his reliance on backhanders from Bill The Butcher. When Lew betrays Bill, he receives an almighty beating from Bill, on a par with Brando in 'The Chase' or Christopher Walken in 'The Dogs Of War'. As I stated earlier, the onstage violence is truly effective, with heads regularly slammed against the wooden decking, or on to primitive wheelbarrows and carts that make up the sparse set. There are as many belly laughs and hysterical shrieks of delight from the audience, as there are howls of disgust, surprise, and shock at the snapping of limbs, gouging of eyes, and gut-splitting stabbings. 

Expert movement direction from Lucy Cullingford, and fight direction by Kaitlin Howard, are vital elements which succeed magnificently. Together with a rollicking, and often suitably moody musical score by local artistes ME + Deboe, all the ingredients for a roller coaster theatrical experience are here.

A truly oddball choice for a show, but a very very welcome one that has certainly paid off.

Oh, and to the woman who brought a baby in, then had to take it out crying, ten minutes in - What did you THINK was going to happen?!