The Broken Family Band say Adieu @ The Portland Arms - 31/10/09

The Broken Family Band have been a staple diet for my gig calender since I first saw them at the Cambridge Arts Picture House in October 2003 alongside Ruby Nichols, who we now all know and love as Captain.

Since then, TBFB have gone from tongue-in-cheek alt-country with the likes of Jesus Songs, The King Will Build A Disco and Cold Water Songs to harder, romantic renaissance post-rock in .



These changes were warmly embraced by fans and (most) critics alike, and Glastonbury, Koko and International tours began to replace their previous tendency to play more intimate pub venues as their fanbase grew. Their stint on Skins with It's All Over and offers to play on Later With Jools Holland looked set to propel them into the bigtime, but they always lurked tantalisingly beneath the surface, never quite 'making it'.



Their last album, Please and Thank You seemed to baffle a lot of the committed BFB-ers. While the music and lyric-writing was still solid, the album seemed to lack the personality so integral to the Broken Family way. Perhaps whatever musical horse they were flogging had begun to die a little. Other sources suggest conflicting interests between the boys. Whatever the reason, it was announced in September that The Broken Family Band would be playing their last ever gig on Hallowe'en at their Cambridge pub of choice, The Portland Arms.

I expected the atmosphere to be somewhat demure or reflective, but with most of the gig-goers dressed up trick-or-treat style, it was quite a hard attitude to maintain. There was an air of excitement - more of a wake than a funeral.



The band came on without a support at around 9pm. I wondered if there would be costumes or adornments but no, they were simply focussed on the task at hand - and boy what a task. They ploughed into a stonking 2 and a half hour set with a repertoire covering all artistic corners. As well as beautiful renditions of At the Back of the Chapel and Dancing on the 4th Floor they surprised us all by cracking out beauties from their ancient archives. (I Don't Have The Time To) Mess Around was hilarious, with Steve's grostesque embellishments about granny spunk in the intro reminding us just exactly what made this band special.



The Cambridge crowd did themselves proud - they sang, they laughed hell - they even danced! About an hour in you could see the sweat dripping off the walls and back onto the faces of the people it came from.



And so it came to the end with John Belushi. The four boys stuck their absolute heart and soul in as if they were pushing in all the work of the last 8 years. Jay cradled his guitar like a baby, Steve looked intensely into the middle distance, Mick leant back mouth open and Gav stood up. The song ended, the people clapped and there were post-coital manhugs all-round. I'm gonna miss these boys dearly, but it was one hell of a ride that saw me through my teen years. As Steve mentioned one fan reckoning, they're probably the sort of band that will reform every 10 years. Not quite a compliment, but here's to hoping! There does seems to be promise of new musical escapades from the boys on the horizon at least - the legacy lives on!

Notting Hill Carnival - 30/08/09

Since moving to Cambridge, I managed to miss the to the whistle-blowing, sweet corn-charring, booty-shaking bass-trembling extravaganza that is Notting Hill Carnival for the last few years. Boarding the 436X bus, whose sole purpose was to transport the South Londoners to the carnival that day, I found myself aboard a single-decker bubbling with excitement. Sunday being family day, the carnival kids were already blowing their whistles in anticipation. Meanwhile, I found myself sandwiched between a group of plum-mouthed sloanes who were unafraid to loudly describe their experience ‘on weed’ and express their awe at ‘how very ethnic’ the bus was. I’m pretty sure I saw those same girls huddled nervously by the piles of polystyrene goat curry leftovers and coconuts later that day.



After the long and uncomfortably warm bus journey, we finally arrived at a place those Chelsea girls termed ‘high street ken’ and the crowds began. A brief walk past the police stop-and-search, whistle touts and hideously expensive houses Hugh Grant would be proud of and I was plunged into the smoke of barbecued jerk chicken and the metallic ting of repetitive soca rhythms. The festival was already in full swing. The first sound system I came across played a variety of black music anthems, ranging from modern R’n’B to Garage, Dancehall to Break beat, with a homage to Michael Jackson thrown in for luck. The crowd was pretty mixed and also a pretty friendly bunch. I inevitably ended up spending a good portion of my dancing dimes there.

The dancehall sound system a bit further down was playing some pretty fresh sounds, but the proportion of attitude-donning rude-boys made it a little less comfortable to dance to. I found a really great sound system playing some drum n bass and funky house, but there were strangely few folk dancing - possibly because the MC had a habit of jumping on and forcibly dancing with anyone who dared nod a head in appreciation. I danced from a distance before moving to a system where I could get closer the bass bins without fear of attack.



By far the most popular system was being run by 1xtra’s ‘Rampage’, who was spinning out all the latest RnB ‘hits’ with a few summer classics thrown in. This crowd in particular made me feel pretty old, and for once I was proud to be, as these lot still seemed too immature to let themselves go and get into the . Attempting to nip down Portabello road, I forgot just how massive the festival was. A tip to check out KCC on Wornington Road was sadly dismissed as moving anywhere with any kind of speed was pretty out the question. It had a top afternoon and emerged completely exhausted and sticky with sugar cane. In hindsight I wish I’d made a note of the Djs spinning the sound systems, but I was too busy dancing!