MEAT PUPPETS | LIVE REVIEW
Blackwood Miners Institute, Sun 6 Sept
words NOEL GARDNER photos RACHEL HAINES
Among the various intentions of Velvet Coalmine, which is now in its second year and has been spread over six days this time out, is an effort to put the small valleys town on the map as a live music destination. Best known as the birthplace of the Manic Street Preachers, it sporadically hosted contemporary bands (as opposed to tribute acts and dinosaurs) back in the 90s and early 00s, but the well has run pretty dry in recent years. However, the Miners Institute, Blackwood’s flagship venue, has an impressive main room, which this weekend has seen headline sets from Dub War, Slaves and – from furthest afield – Phoenix, Arizona’s joyously uncategorisable rock survivors, the Meat Puppets.
Tonight’s audience ranges from teens to the middle-aged, but if there’s a typical punter, they’re clad in baggy trews, band shirt which may not have seen daylight this century, and an aura of reliving their lost youth. Meat Puppets formed in 1980, buoyed by the emerging US hardcore movement, but quickly morphed into something very different: the classic rock and country in their collections a springboard for a unique, untethered sound. Flirtations with the mainstream came first when Nirvana covered three of their songs during their 1993 MTV Unplugged performance, then via their Too High To Die album the following year.
Following a brief instrumental opener, Comin’ Down, a punky bluegrass number from that LP, kicks off proceedings. Oh Me and Plateau, two of the three Cobain-blessed tracks, follow; it’s instantly obvious that these will get the most rousing reception, but it’s unlikely that the band consider this especially surprising or demeaning (when I saw them play in Bristol in 2013, it was much the same story). This isn’t a Meat Puppets fan convention and all three songs are classics, so y’know.
The band’s brotherly lynchpins, Curt and Cris Kirkwood, are relatively light on conversation, but seem genuinely humble at having been invited here: one could speculate that early-80s tours with Black Flag instilled in them a respect for the smalltown audience. Curt’s son Elmo also features as live guitarist, looks like how I imagine every dude who plays in a band with their dad looks, and doesn’t stop beaming with apparent delight for the entire set. Shandom Sahm, Puppets drummer since the late 90s, is a bit of a stylistic one-trick pony, but his solid timekeeping works well during the spate of long, gnarly instrumental jams, in that it highlights the inventive fluidity of Curt and Cris’ playing.
In amongst the wigouts – and it speaks well of both band and audience that they retain attention during these – there are perky, rootsy stomps through early-90s oddity Sam, concentrated psychedelic dose Up On The Sun, yearning, yeehawing jewel Lost and a cover of the Beach Boys’ version of Sloop John B. Leaving only Lake Of Fire – the remaining song with those crucial Nirvana associations – to close a set which leaned, however understandably, on the past, but hopefully offered the possibility of a bright future for both Velvet Coalmine and Blackwood in general.