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The Wildhearts/Jetboy
Fat City, San Francisco, CA
October 23, 2007
By Dan Wall
Setlist: Greetings From Shitsville,
Vanilla Radio, TV Tan, Caffeine Bomb, Everlone, The Revolution
Will be Televised, OCD, Nita Nitro, Suckerpunch, Destroy All
Monsters, Sick of Drugs, Love You ‘Til I Don’t, The Hard Way,
Weekend, Rooting For the Bad Guy, Someone That Won’t Let Me Go,
I Wanna Go Where the People Go. 90 minutes.
Someday, I would love to be able to tell you all that every
great band out there is alive and thriving with the huge fan
base it craves, as its career builds to the superstardom it
deserves. Alas, it seems those days are over, and every couple
of months or so I will have to tell you about a band like the
Wildhearts, who finally made it back to San Francisco in
October.
The Wildhearts are often mentioned as the best band you’ve never
heard of, or one of the most underrated bands in the world. All
of those statements are pretty much correct, and it doesn’t look
like the band will be receiving a boost from its new hit single
or sold-out world tour to change those perceptions anytime soon.
It’s a shame, really, because this band from Newcastle has so
much going for it that it should be a household name. Popular
(like most of the bands that get the same treatment) in England,
most of Europe and Japan, the band is an after thought here in
the states, just like most great rock music is in 2007.
Formed in 1989 after the vocalist/guitarist/songwriter Ginger
was booted out of The Quireboys, the band kicked around the
English club scene until its first record, Earth vs. The
Wildhearts, was released in 1993. That album, mixing influences
as far reaching as The Beatles and Metallica, was a hit in
England, where the band would become very influential over the
next four years, but did nothing here, and a tour with AC/DC was
cancelled after visa problems stranded the band at home.
Some might site the quartet’s sound, which can be melodic, heavy
and punky all in the framework of one chorus, as too much for
some markets to take, and that might be true. But most
Wildhearts songs have more good riffs than Megadeth and
Metallica have produced in the last 10 years, and enough melody
to make Jon Bon Jovi weep.
That formula would continue on the group’s second record,
P.H.U.Q., and both of the band’s first two records are minor
masterpieces that any self-respecting rock fan should own. But
it crashed down around the band with record number three, which
is an industrial mess and hardly listenable; also, the band’s
chaotic history comes into play here as well with revolving
line-ups of members who had drug and alcohol problems. The group
had a bitter history with its record company East West also, and
not long after the Endless Nameless album came out, the band
went on hiatus.
Although some of the blame for the band’s lack of success (even
in England, the band have never been superstars) can be laid at
the feet of management, record labels and the press, the band
certainly isn’t blameless in all of this, either. Anyone who’s
followed the band knows of its myriad of problems (many listed
above, depression and in-fighting common place as well), and its
decision to market many of its singles in multi-formats often
led to confusion in its fan base as to exactly what the band
were up to. The group has also re-formed, split up and re-formed
more than KISS, and that probably hasn’t helped matters, either.
Fortunately, one thing this great band has going for it is
songs, many which were on display in only its second S.F.
concert appearance ever, and despite how or when these songs
were released, you could always count on the band’s trademark
mix of heavy riffage, sweet melodies and an almost-Motorhead
like feel for brazen, sleazy rock to be included in most of its
releases (except for the horrid Endless Nameless, as mentioned
previously-sorry, it’s that bad). So when the band finally got
back together earlier this year, it was to play music the way
the group started out playing it, and its latest record is about
as close to its masterful debut as it has ever come.
It’s really unbelievable that only 100 or so hearty souls showed
up for the show, which also featured local sleaze gods Jetboy,
but that’s what the music scene has become in the Bay Area. I
refuse to get worked up about that stuff anymore; I was just
thrilled to see this great band for the first time, and the guys
played as if 1000 were in attendance.
It was amazing to see Ginger onstage for the first time as well.
This guy is a rock star, and he looks like Conan O’Brien’s
uglier, smellier brother. Singing every song, playing guitar at
an extraordinary volume and trying to piece together some of
rock’s fastest, most intricate songs is never an easy task, but
Ginger and his mates pulled it off on this night, despite the
overwhelming odds presented by a fragmented U.S. tour and little
support from the local rock fans.
The band’s line-up seems to have finally stabilized (and that’s
saying something) with longtime guitarist C.J., bassist Scott
Sorry and drummer Ritch Battersby joining Ginger onstage, and
the band provided those lucky enough to see it with a career
overview that included most of its best songs.
I am not going to go into a review of every song-suffice it to
say, it was loud, sleazy, heavy and exhilarating. I do want to
describe one song though, the masterpiece “Everlone.” This song
starts with a riff that’s hard to describe, moves into a choppy
beat, rails along like a runaway locomotive, meets up with a
catchy chorus, features the band’s best guitar solo and finished
off with a couple of riff breakdowns that would make Pete
Townsend blush. That’s all spread out over 6 minutes of glorious
rock and roll heaven, and pretty much sums up the group in a
nutshell.
I hope this story serves as much as a career assessment as a
concert review, and it should, because most of you who read it
will never see The Wildhearts play live. Heck, the boys might
never come back to America again, might not ever release another
record and one of the members could be headed to rehab as we
speak. Despite all of that, I would encourage anyone who loves
the wild, renegade spirit of rock and roll to search out this
band, because there aren’t many like it, and who knows when this
type of music will go out of vogue all together. Long live The
Wildhearts!
Another band that falls into the category of “why aren’t we
bigger than we are” is Jetboy, the local sleaze merchants who
opened the show. Known mainly for its single, “Feel the Shake,”
the band has re-formed with a goal to hit the festival circuit
both here and abroad and remind everyone that they had a hand in
the 80’s sleazy, Hollywood-style hair metal that Guns N Roses
made so fashionable. These guys, who played 11 songs that were
so dirty that I felt I needed a hosing off, would be at home at
Rocklahoma or any place that good, old fashioned rock is
welcome, and are better than most of the pretenders that are out
there playing music like this live now.
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