Quireboys + Dan Baird and Homemade Sin + Diamond Dogs

Glasgow Cathouse, 13th May 2008

It's seven o'clock, time for a party. And what a party we have tonight at the Cathouse!

The Diamond Dogs

Kicking off proceedings are the Diamond Dogs, the most British band ever to come out of Sweden. Fronted by a Razzle deadringer resplendent in white suit and orange shirt, they belt out classic Stones/Small Faces-style bar room rock'n'roll, complete with 'Hot Patootie' saxophone. So well do they get the good times rollin' that their attempts to involve the somewhat elderly crowd in a bit of audience participation don't fall entirely flat – and that's really saying something for the Cathouse on a Tuesday.

Next up is ex-Georgia Satellites main man Dan Baird, who warms up proceedings further with his trademark feast of deep fried, hickory smoked Southern blues rock. Yes, there are a few too many protracted jammy solos, but it's hard to resist a rousing singalong to 'I Love You Period' and 'Keep Your Hands To Yourself''. The joint is rockin' – 'ye-ha!' as Spike would say.

Griff and Spike of the Quireboys

Ah yes, Spike. Still skinny as a snake, hoarse as a raven and pished as a newt, the legendary Quireboys vocalist takes to the stage like the consummate pickled professional he is. As usual, the set list leans heavily towards A Bit Of What You Fancy (Spike still managing to cock up the words to 'Hey You'), which of course I love, although, with a back catalogue bursting with rock'n'roll diamonds in the rough, I sometimes think it would be nice if they gave some other tunes a go.

However, new album Homewreckers and Heartbreakers gets a welcome airing and, although it's hardly a departure, it's got some great tracks, the stand out being the luscious, sentimental 'Late Nite Saturday Call', Spike gargling with broken glass as he tears the chorus out, and the laid back, country-laced 'One For The Road' (introduced as 'a song about women and drinking'…).

What else can I say about the Quireboys that I haven't already said? Surely one of Britain's best and most underrated bands, they never fail to deliver (okay, once they did...). Drunk and disorderly, rough but raffish, they're the essence of 1970s working class rock'n'roll rootsiness, redolent of pints and pork scratchings down a dingy pub with no ladies loo, about as far removed from alcopops, style bars and smoking bans as you can get. It's a dirty job, being the saviours of old school rock'n'roll, but someone's gotta do it, and nobody does it better than the Quireboys.

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