It's a strange, strange thing to be reviewing a Guns N' Roses tribute act in the knowledge that while you nod along to eerily detailed renditions of Civil War, You Could Be Mine et. al, the 'core' of the real thing are bulldozing through America on the will-they-won't-they reunion tour.

Before Axl Rose and Slash finally, finally buried the nuclear hatchet, the singular Guns alumni were, of course, in action in their various pursuits. Axl could be seen fronting enormodome shows under the GN'R name, from which drummer Frank Ferrer and stringsman Richard Fortus (10 and 14 years in the job respectively) have graduated to the current 'hybrid' reunion lineup. 

Slash, meanwhile, toured and recorded under his own name and Duff McKagan continued to be the coolest human being alive. But while the Great Trio can indeed be seen sharing a stage again, there's still no sign of a UK tour or even a London show.

Enter Guns 2 Roses.

It's been 14 years (geddit?!) of mirror-imaging the legendary Hollywood rock n' roll ensemble for this lot, and Bilston's Robin 2 - a routinely fantastic place to catch tribute acts - welcomed them back.

For Axl Rose has long been heralded and celebrated as having the most fearsome pipes in rock history, and I'll be damned if my wine-addled ears didn't hear Guns 2 Roses' frontman, who even has Axl's way of glancing at the audience nailed down, wail a long way up and down the holy fuckometer. 

Of equal attention-hogging ability is their Slash. Innumerable Halloween and fancy dress outfits over the years have proved just how easy it is do dress as the man, so ingrained in the rock n' roll consciousness , but G2R's representative actually has the right guitar strap as well. Oh, and he plays guitar really well and whatever.

No, really: he cranks a damn good sound out of a gorgeous Les Paul and Marshall amp - the inseparable rock n' roll marriage - for the duration and supplies, as Slash so memorably did (does?) wonderfully crunchy, warm tones and lets fly with excellently slick guitar licks. 

The evening is over all too quickly, and after a set that leans mostly on Appetite for Destruction material, it's tantalising to think what Guns 2 Roses might be able to do with a bigger room and a longer playtime - Estranged, maybe? 

"Fing is, they're not just one of the best tribute acts oi've seen - they're one of the best gigs oi've seen," blares a punter, and as I slip away during a spirited set-closing Paradise City to dash for the last tram back to Birmingham, I'm inclined to agree. 

Review: The Smiths Indeed, The Robin 2, Bilston

Ah, the tribute band. A sad waste of musical ability pissed away on crowds of saggy-bottomed middle-aged fools who, for one night, pause the process of growing up - or, a harmless skip down the memory motorway? The deathless debate hangs in the air. If your tribute band is so good, why not pen some tunes of your own?

The curmudgeons' oh-do-cheer-up side of the argument is rightfully hit in the eye by gladioli chucked into the crowd by Jurgen Wendelen, The Smiths Indeed's Morrissey representative, as the four-piece shimmy into Still Ill.



A glance at The Robin's sizeable crowd, buoyant and resplendent in all manner of Smiths and Morrissey t-shirts, and the argument is swiftly kicked in the shins, a night of blissful indie memories well underway.

This is in no small part down to the masterful note-for-note replication of The Smith's timeless hymns, each shot through with sufficient verve to render them with a gratifying freshness. The skilfulness of their act doesn't just replicate, it channels the historic much-loved odes to love, loneliness and everything else.



Celebrating the 30th anniversary of The Smiths' No. 1 album Meat is Murder, every song from it is given spirited renditions, even the maudlin title track. For Panic, igniting a mass 'Hang the DJ!' chant in the room, Wendelen swings a noose around in one of many touches that superbly contributes to the act. He has the mannerisms, accent, weird dancing and, of course, the singing voice utterly nailed down.

Taking Bilston by the throat through just about every Smiths song you really wanted to hear (except your correspondent's favourite, Shoplifters of the World Unite - but no qualms here), we are fortunate to have a shit-kicking visualisation of what it must have been like to witness such a band in the flesh.



Representing those who sadly couldn't due to age (or lack of it), I am all the more grateful for such an eerily imitative experience that, for one night, opens a portal into hitherto inaccessible sonic territory that all the grainy YouTube footage in the world can't quite compete with.

The Smiths, indeed.

Photographs from the evening: https://flic.kr/s/aHsk7wpKHL

All photographs © JH Stokes 2015. Anyone found nicking these shots will be spanked with a wet plimsol. 



Bonus: short clip of Bigmouth Strikes Again -

Review: Steven Wilson, Wolverhampton Civic Hall 18.03.15

The cult of Steven Wilson is surely reaching critical mass. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to imagine a gem of a musician staying hidden from the mainstream public for much longer, especially when he manages to surpass an already widely-acclaimed album, 2013’s haunting The Raven that Refused to Sing. Tonight he returns to Wolverhampton’s Civic Hall in support of his latest, the end-to-end perfection of Hand.Cannot.Erase, a breathtaking guide to Wilson’s musical repertoire and a concept that out-concepts most concept albums.

The man has consistently translated well to the live setting, and tonight builds upon great memories of when he and his formidably skilled band (Guthrie Govan on guitar, Nick Beggs on bass and Chapman Stick, Adam Holzman on keyboards, Marco Minneman on drums) last graced the Civic in 2013, breathing life into the proggy ghost stories of The Raven that Refused to Sing with poise.

And in a moment reminiscent of that tour, an overly-long introductory video opens the proceedings, Wilson and band drawing loud cheers when they take to the stage.

Later, the ensemble reel off the Porcupine Tree classic Lazarus. it’s debatable whether this is as deep a cut as fans would hope for when Wilson spoke of airing rare tracks from his songwriting career, but it’s a flawless rendition. Announcing the song drew some of the biggest cheers of the night, when Wilson mentions that certain songs were chosen for airings due to having relevant themes. It’s a touching moment that demonstrates the enduring love for Wilson’s ‘other’ band, Porcupine Tree, from which he seems to finally be stepping out from under. Given how unlikely future Porcupine Tree activity may be, it’s safe to bet that more than a few fans were glad to hear it, along with Sleep Together which rears its head later in the set.

As every song from Hand.Cannot.Erase. is played tonight, and in sequence, save the gentle Transcience, it’s tempting to wonder why they don’t go for the jugular and perform the whole album. A few Steven Wilson standards, such as the woe-is-me pop of Postcard, are conspicuously absent - such is the fate of songs belonging to a steadily growing back catalogue.

Despite these gripes, what actually transpires is note-perfect and emotionally charged; every delicacy and every stomp is acutely brought to life. It’s (another) testament to the team that Wilson has assembled, who now have several tours under their collective belt and have gelled admirably (take note, Axl Rose).

While the band could play with just a post-it note for visual accompaniment and still put on an amazing show, the music is brilliantly paired with dynamic lighting and artistically matching visuals that shed light on the slightly mysterious story of Hand.Cannot.Erase. Eventually, the giant veil from tours past drops over the stage for The Watchmaker, a reminder of Raven’s progressive beauty and fragility. Nightmarish visuals projected onto the veil adds another dimension to the song, and is hugely effective.

All too soon, it’s time to say ta-ta as the band creep into The Raven that Refused to Sing’s title track, a wonderfully moving piece that may be the most beautiful and simply perfect thing Wilson has ever created. While it feels odd at first to have the same closer as the last tour, absorbing the magnificence on offer reminds you that very few things on Earth could follow such a song, and indeed such an act as polished, imaginative and skilled as Wilson and co.

***** 10/10