Dogs D'Amour
Glasgow Barfly and Edinburgh Exchange, 17th and 18th October 2005
'Tonight, tell Tyla to get his bloody chips beforehand.'
'What?'
The new Dogs D'Amour drummer, a cheery, friendly sort of chap from Peckham, is looking somewhat confused. Fair enough, I suppose – he probably wasn't expecting a lecture whilst chatting to fans in the bar at the Exchange.
'Last night – he said he wanted some chips and then you all buggered off. You only played for an hour. Play a bit longer this time.'
'We don't know any more songs.'
Surely not – this is Tyla we're talking about here, the most prolific song writer since… well, since anyone, probably. But then again, maybe his new band of hired guns haven't had time to work their way through the hefty Dogs back catalogue yet.
Count your blessings though – at least there is a band. Following his somewhat alarming tendency to write the theme tune, sing the theme tune, play all the instruments on the theme tune and record the darned thing on a four-track in his bathroom, I was half expecting to see the King of Thieves armed with nothing but an acoustic guitar and a backing track… oh, and the ubiquitous Yella.
Yup, finally I come face to face (almost – she's somewhat shorter than me) with the infamous Yella, the Yoko Ono of the Dogs D'Amour – or possibly, as Ian points out, the Linda McCartney, if fire swallowing and dancing to an invisible walkman playing Status Quo are the 21st century equivalents of waving a tambourine and holding up two fingers in a peace symbol. 'Trouble' – that's Ian's opinion, and he can be surprisingly perceptive about these things, for a man. 'Mötley Crüe this ain't,' sniffs Gwen, as Tyla's squeeze scowlingly attempts to unravel the cable of the power tool that's spraying sparks across the band during 'Firework Girl'. At least the Exchange's stage is big enough to cope with such antics – yesterday, on the Barfly's Top of the Pops size postage stamp, she nearly set fire to Tyla's hair.
But enough of the dubious charms of Yella – what of the 20th century gypsy pirate himself? Ah, still the f*cking king. The latest albums may have shaken my faith a little, but tonight in Edinburgh (and yesterday in Glasgow) I am again a confirmed believer, as the tattooed poet Messiah, on top dishevelled, skinny arsed form, simply rocks my world.
Kicking off with 'Get By', undoubtedly the standout track from 2001's Happy Ever After album, Tyla and band (sounding fantastic, I might add, not at all like a bunch of session musicians playing together for the first time) launch into a whistlestop tour of the Dogs' greatest hits – 'Last Bandit', 'Heroine', 'Errol Flynn', 'Drunk Like Me', 'How Come It Never Rains' (with a marvellous mean'n'moody bluesy intro), 'Billy Two Rivers', 'Satellite Kid' – all the songs we want to hear are given an airing (okay, apart from 'Heartbreak' and 'Kid From Kensington' and 'Kiss My Heart Goodbye' and all the other great songs they didn't play) and sound as fresh and dirty and dark and uplifting and beautiful and poetic as ever. Even the new songs sound good played live – 'Never Give Up' kicks ass, whilst a soul destroying acoustic rendition of 'When Bastards Go To Hell' is almost on a par with 'Empty World' or 'Princess Valium'.
A shame, therefore, that the turn out is so poor – although playing Glasgow on a Monday and Edinburgh on a Tuesday is never a good idea unless you're, like, Oasis – few fans are as sad as me (except that guy in the Maiden T-shirt, who insisted on standing right at the front of both gigs like a screaming girly at a Bon Jovi show). A shame also that, with such a rich seam of material to mine, we only get an hour long set. In Glasgow we don't even get a support band, although in Edinburgh we're treated to the classic metal sounds of local heroes Full Metal Racket, so at least we get a bit more music for our money. Perhaps the drummer was right after all – perhaps they really don't know any more songs.
Tyla, 18th December 2008
