Words Prince Far Out
Pictures ©Pete McKee (apart from the crap band picture I took).
On Saturdays and Sundays when I am not occupied with football or gigs, I can mostly be found in the Northern Quarter of Manchester, and in particular, the Night and Day Café.
On the unassuming day of Sunday the 26th of April, I made my well worn way towards my ‘local’ and on entering was totally discombobulated. The back half of the venue, just past the end of the bar, was a blizzard of colour because unbeknownst to me, the venue was hosting an exhibition by one of Sheffield‘s finest, Pete McKee. I was both surprised and joyous because Pete McKee‘s art has long been a favourite of mine, and I am not alone given that he has lent his considerable skills to Noel Gallagher, the Arctic Monkeys and Richard Hawley. Indeed, McKee and Hawley have done much to add a romantic sheen to the steel city. My ex was from Sheffield (by way of Jamaica) and lived in the Pitsmoor district, and on a visit to her daughter, I decided to decamp and conduct a Richard Hawley tour of the city, taking in Lady’s Bridge, Lowedges and Cole’s Corner (currently the site of HSBC) amongst others. I also popped in for an excellent breakfast at Fagans, the site of McKee‘s wonderful ‘The Snog’, and smothered it in Henderson’s Relish, a magical elixir that until recently I could only get hold of when visiting the city. Now it seems to be stocked by mainstream supermarkets, which has removed some of the mystique that used to surround it. I am sure the people at Henderson’s HQ, must have wondered who the nut was who purchased litres of the stuff on periodic visits.
I digress.
With Hawley as my soundtrack, there was a distinctly love-lorn vibe about these places, as there was when walking my dog on Firth Park in the evening, and seeing the twinkling lights dipping distantly and delicately into the bowl of the city centre. I still have three (by marriage) beautiful grandkids in Sheffield (I know, I know – I don’t look old enough etc), and so I still take great pleasure in visiting the area.
Back to the exhibition in Manchester, which was the wonderfully titled ‘The Boy With A Leg Named Brian‘, and it contained some fabulous artwork that, as is his style, add kaleidoscopic colour to mundane scenes that are instantly recognisable to anyone growing up in 1970s/80s working class Britain. McKee‘s pictures are vivid depictions of everyday life, but the style and colours he uses bring a fuzzy warmth and joy to the viewer. There is a real positivity leaping from McKee‘s imagination, I say ‘imagination’ but much of this exhibition represents Pete‘s own life, with both nostalgia and modernity well represented, and it was a real treat that the Night and Day was hosting this event. I could have bought the whole shop but availed myself of a Richard Hawley print (since his posture seems akin with my general weekend demeanour), and then retired to the fresh air seats for a pint and a fag.
As is my wont, I like to sit outside, watch the world go by, observe the curious collection of Mancunians who zip by busily along Oldham St, and also geg in on conversations…so essentially I’m a nosey twat.
However, this fine, sunny afternoon (I tell no lies…yes…Manchester) my examination of the psyche of your average city dweller was brought to a shuddering halt when an an antique looking coach (it might still be described as a charabanc such was its’s vintage) pulled up in the lay-by directly outside, coughing out smoke like an eighty-a-day octogenarian. The door opened, and out popped a sprightly and be-denimed man who I instantly recognised as Pete McKee. He was followed by a merry band of Sheffield folk of various ages; who, befitting their year either leapt, sauntered or hobbled out behind him. I am sure I saw one carried out, not old either, but then much can be supped on the Snake Pass.
How strange.
But I quite like strange.
I later discovered this online.
How great is that?
And again, Pete’s artwork is so evocative of more genteel times, more fun times, and in this case…more pissed times, that chime with an audience of witnesses who live through his beautifully captured memories.
I finished my pint and ventured back inside in the hope that the artist might personalise my print. We chatted briefly about Sheffield, about my hometown (which he practically beat out of me since I don’t like to admit it myself…Rhyl…now you understand), and he told me that he used to holiday in North Wales as a child. He kindly signed my print, and then, as I heard ciggies and alcohol calling, McKee asked, “Are you coming tonight?”.
I replied, “I didn’t know about today, never mind tonight. What’s on?”
“It’s my band, a kind of parody thing”.
The penny dropped but then got half lodged in my brain.
“Oh. Was that the band that did a song about Hendos? (an ode to my aforementioned favourite condiment)”.
“Yes!”
“In which case, I will be there”.
We shook hands, which automatically made my later appearance a binding agreement, and I headed home.
Two hours later and I was heading back to the Night and Day, whose bar staff always instantly ask “Guinness?“, thereby making me feel like the old alcoholic in the pub corner…but you know what…I think I possibly am.
A spoken word artist was performing when I arrived and I later discovered it was Jack (aka Leon the Pig Farmer) and I only wish I had been around to hear more because he sounded great.
The Everly Pregnant Brothers moseyed onto the stage just before 9 pm. They consist of Richard Bailey, Nick Banks, Klive Humberstone, Charley and Pete McKee, Simon Williams and Kieran Wardle and as a collective they immediately instantly launched into ‘Hendos‘. I had seen the video to the song some years previously and so I quizzically examined the stage thinking to myself, “Fucking hell! The lead singer must practice voodoo or black magic or something, because he looks younger now than when I saw the video. Maybe it’s the beard?”.
It took me the whole song to come to the (retrospectively fucking obvious) conclusion that this must be a new singer, but what a singer! Kieran Wardle is a tour-de-force onstage. He has a fantastic voice, he’s very funny and importantly has a great stage presence. It is quite astonishing to see him put so much emotion into the vocals when you consider that the subject matter of the songs veers from breadcakes to chip shops, to Rotherham.
Now is probably a good time to explain just exactly who and what the Everly Pregnant Brothers are. The band hail from Sheffield and are in the tradition of the quite fabulous Half Man Half Biscuit and the madness that is Goldie Lookin’ Chain, with a sprinkle of the Macc Lads flirting the edges. They write wryly amusing comedy lyrics to well established songs. For instance, tonight ‘No Oven, No Pie‘ is set to Bob Marley‘s No Woman No Cry. The aforementioned Hendos is Coldplay‘s Yellow. The whole premise is FUN, and the band are the catalyst for fantastic singalongs, good times and great vibes, and so, if you are devoid of a sense of humour, you can still have a ball as the songs are globally recognisable. It’s a bit like a cool and hilarious indie disco…with ukeleles (not sure that analogy works. I also just realised analogy has anal in it so just double checked the spelling. The lengths, eh?).
I imagine a Paddy’s Night in their presence would be something quite marvellous, but dangerously teetering on the edge of chaotic collapse with “the audience outside looked from spectator to band, and from band to spectator, and from spectator to band again; but already it was impossible to say which was which” (sorry Eric), as very nearly happened tonight. I found myself smiling through the entire set and having a quiet chuckle to myself at the lyrics and some of the performing, especially gregarious lead singer Kieran who is like Pavarotti on a lethal combo of speed and Stones, almost certainly consumed by injecting it into a family portion of Gregg‘s steak bakes.
However, the humour doesn’t detract from the playing of guitars; bass, ukeleles, keyboards and drums, because the band are as tight as fuck, and it probably helps having Pulp’s drummer in tow, but each musician has the opportunity to shine at various points. It’s a bit like an a musical anarcho-syndicalist arrangement. That said, on tonight’s evidence Pete McKee made it it clear the reputations of Biggie and Tupac remain safe when he, with good humour, fluffed his rap a couple of times.
The Everly Pregnant Brothers are obviously no secret in Sheffield because the contingent from over Saddleworth Moor was seemingly bigger, and definitely louder than the Manc ne’er do wells in the audience. Pete McKee also teased about a special event being announced the next day, which as became apparent is the Everly Pregnant Brothers alongside the 70 piece Sheffield Philharmonic Orchestra at Sheffield City Hall, and I for one am keeping that day free.
That’s going to be some party.
Song titles tonight included; Shit TV, Dodgy Box, Glove In (an ode to Michael Jackson’s singular fashion sense) and Just Can’t Get It Up (which I am sure you guessed is set to Depeche Mode‘s Just Can’t Get Enough). The band look like they are having a great time and it is utterly infectious. At one point lead singer Kieran makes an excursion off the stage… and into the audience (as far as his mic lead will extend) for a mass singalong of “Me Chip Pan’s On Fire“, the best lyric Kings of Leon never wrote…then struggles to get back on to the stage, accompanied by a Del Boy shrug as he reassembles himself. Twenty songs were proffered and the set didn’t lag once. There was much to take in, every band member happily switched on, focused and happy. The closing Breadcake set to Abba‘s Winner Takes It All was an absolute highlight, giving full range to Keiran’s vocal dexterity and his sense of the dramatic as he crumpled up after one particularly lovely vocal flight, prompting a band member ask “Is he alright?”
Opening line instead of “I don’t want to………talk” is “When it comes to………..bread” is a corker but…
it’s a bap by the way.
Time flew and there was mass participation and constant laughter from those lucky enough to be crammed into the Night and Day. They have more dates lined up, some even south of the Watford Gap, and I think Pete’s exhibition and store is there for each show. So get along to have your eyes dazzled and your ears frazzled, and to have a good old fashioned knees up, and most importantly, a damn good laugh.
The Everly Pregnant Brothers are excellent fun. Get on it, cats.
