The onward march of the Old folks - part 1

Now here’s a way to link together various stars of the summer and actually have a legitimate common theme amongst them. This summer, apart from generally being wet, foul and as unlike something imagined by the Beach Boys as you could possibly get, has seen the old folk coming out into the fresh air and, frankly, knocking all sorts of stuffing out of the young pretenders. So, in chronological order (i.e. when I saw them as opposed to their age which, obviously, is personal information that it would not be for me to divulge, here they come.
So first up is the increasingly balding Steve Earle. Taking a break from crashing around with the Dukes he instead performed a largely solo show at the Colston Hall with simply a selection of guitars, mandolin and banjo and the occasional assistance of wife and support act Alison Moorer and/ or Neil on decks and beats. And it was excellent. The venue was intimate (and yes we are talking about the Colston Hall) in comparison to the Cardiff barn experience and it was refreshing to see the songs take centre stage – with reworkings in a number of cases and not always to accommodate the revised instrumentation. Apparently this tour upset a few people who were expecting that he would do what he normally does. But isn’t part of the point of Steve Earle that he doesn’t do that? Personally I would rather he attempted something different and I for one was particularly taken with the decks support – especially on Satellite Radio. So well done Steve, thanks for being consistently different.

Next up the ever spry Bruce Springsteen showing no signs of slowing down.
Another trip across the river to Cardiff – this time the Millenium stadium which, for a first visit, is some wonderful thing, especially if your ticket gets you onto the pitch. (Although you do seem to have to be lithe, lissome and young and, ideally, female if you are going to be allowed into the select area immediately front of stage. Which I wasn’t.) Having got over the curiosity of where they put the grass, there was a while to assess the surroundings, observe the Mexican waves going round the auditorium and generally feel impressed. Big screens flanked the stage to make you realise that, actually, you were further away than you realised. Unlike Steve Earle, Bruce was in typical mode – i.e. ably supported by the E Street Band making a thunderous racket - special mention to Nils Lofgren for ability and Miami Steve Van Zandt for looking the part. In fact mostly sufficient noise to prevent the tidal wave of noise echoing back from the far end having any negative impact until they stopped.As ever Bruce thundered and stormed and gave his usual 3000% going back into his older material. As is becoming apparent with the longer-established rock star they are no longer embarrassed about their back catalogue and, if it’s good, then it gets included rather than having to wade through the latest album which, frankly, may not hit the spot quite so accurately – Born To Run was plundered for around four or five tracks and all were damned fine. The River was only lightly hit – with just the title track – but it sent me scurrying out to buy it. So you can’t say better than that, and I won’t.
Coming next, even older people . . .