Glasgow: Barrowland, Sat 3 May at ‘k * 1k
Quality, total quality. How lucky we are to have Supergrass back in the nation’s bosom again, showing up the lukewarm fare which is accepted in the absence of anything tastier.
Could we be referring to support band Hurricane #1? They're a competent combo with some pedigree, courtesy of former Ride guitarist Andy Bell, but they are second generation Oasis and with the real thing preparing to return to the fray, we don't really need a diluted version.
So, goodbye cold custard, hello strawberry pavlova, as Supergrass strut and swing into action with their three-point plan for brilliance: a deluge of terrific songwriting (’this is my favourite! no, this isl, no, this onel’, etc), a great voice upfront, which thankfully doesn't sound like every other Tim, Liam and Noel - Hurricane #1 take note — with special award for best supporting vocal performance (’la la la la la la’, etc on ‘Strange Ones’), and tight, no- nonsense playing - the prolonged drum ’n' bass intro to ‘Lenny' is still a teasing cliffhanger.
It sounds so simple that musical world domination could almost be anybody's, but how many bands' sets are as failsafe a route to distinction as this? There wasn't a weak link aired at any stage (but points deducted for the absence of 'Mansize Rooster’ — how could they deprive us?)
Both albums get an equal airing and happily there's not too much of a sense of waiting for any particular song - or is the way the band chip in ‘Alright’ almost carelessly rather than wind the crowd up for an appearance in the encore like saying ’this group is about
Supergrass: musical world domination is theirs for the taking
more than one song’? And is opening with the title track of In It For The Money an immediate reminder that you can trust Supergrass not to rely on past glories?
Despite a relatively long absence from concerted touring in these goldfish-memory times, it really does feel like Supergrass have never been away. And my, how they haven't grown. They don't need to - their particularly catholic blend of retro influences is enough their own that they’ll probably never have to worry about moving with the times. The times will move and 'She’s So Loose’ will still sound as effortlessly glorious as it does wafting across Barrowland for the edification of underachievers everywhere. You just can't step on the 'Grass. (Fiona Shepherd)
Snoop Doggy Dogg
Glasgow: Barrowland, Mon 12 May * * 1r
All tha laydeez, all tha laydeez. And all tha fellahz, all tha fellahz; how many ’fucks' does tha motherfuckin List allow anyway, homes? Wha? Used up al- muthafuckin-ready are we, okay boyeezz. Shee-at. Whatta bee-atch. Word. Snoop Dogg IS in tha house — I said Snoop Dogg is in tha house — Snoop Dogg is in tha house — somebody screeeaaammmll Yeah, thass rite Snoop Dogg is in tha house, peOple, all tha way from tha Wess Side — that's tha Wess Side - I said tha Wess
Snoops in the house
tha Wess tha Wess a Wess Side. Thass me
And tha house is three quarters full -- I said tha house three quarters full — tha house three guarters full Bee-atch But we all gonna make some neize, thass rite Damn sure thass me. Because Snoop Dogg is in tha House. Johnnie Cochran cleared my man's name, and my man is in tha house tonite Thass rite, fool Betcha sweet ass thass me
And he‘s got some homey from tha
Gap Band -- I said some homey from tha Gap Band -- some homey from tha Gap Band, damn And they rockin' 'Snoop’s Upside Your Head', thass rite, 'Snoop's Upside Yetir Head' but all tha laydeez and all tha fellah‘x, see, they all rockin' wrth 'Oop's Upside Your Head‘ instead, like a damn fool load of bee—atches Shee-at They furkin’ things all up. Don't know nuttin'. Damn, eXCuse my language But they all singin' 'Oops Upside Your Head' and they should be singing 'Snoop's
Upside Your Head' —~ see? Messin shee- at all up. Fools.
Least on 'What’s My Name' they get it straight No fools rockin' wrth ’Atomic Dog’ by mistake this time, they all comin' back sweet with ‘Snoop Doggy Dow — ow-owowowog', howlin’ nice. Damn. Sweet. Gettin' tha party startin' rite And my man's up there, and he cain't be touched, lookin' tine. Whassis muthafuckin' name? His name is CaIVin, people. And dentcha go iorgettin' it neither. (Mikey Vargas)
RAP Jeru The Damaja
Glasgow: Garage, Friday 2 May ****
Friday night and The Garage is full of the Scotland rap contingent, baseball hats akimbo and single trouser legs rolled up. A hearty crowd mills and spills round the venue as the warm up DJ cut mixes us into the mood and Jeru the Damaja, Gangstarr's hottest protege hangs out at the side of the stage chatting happily to the female fans.
Figuring we're ready, he takes his place, rasta hat stretching high and bare chested under his dungarees, we cheer manically, but he’s not impressed by our welcome. Giving us a sidey- ways look he announces, joined by his co-rapper that, 'lf you don't get it live, I'm going off.’
Roars, whoops and fevered clapping reduce his scowling and he’s all smiles. Doh, he's Just playing with us, drawing us into the Damaja floor show of positive lyric rap, audience participation and stand-up comedy. Straight shout to shout performance rap combines with some freestyling including a heavily tongue in cheek version of Michael Jackson’s ’Billie Jean’. But Jeru doesn’t just want to perform at us, he wants to perform with us, splitting the audience into three and conducting the room to get a groove going before the bass kicks into the next track.
Almost two hours of top class Jeru later and he's still up for more, telling the audience, after some Braveheart and Scrooge McDuck gags, where he’s heading to after the gig and inviting them along. Modestly he sums himself up: 'leru the Damaja, microphone handler, he's no amateur, superman stamina'. Yes indeed.(Rory Weller)
Jeru The Damaja: superman stamina, apparently
16-29 May 1997 THE LIST45