For me, a gig is a place I go where my problems dare not follow me. I’m the kinda guy that needs plenty of noise to drown out the hum drum pointlessness of everyday life and give me a reason to keep on keeping on. It’s a drug really, as potent as any narcotic, and I need a hit as often as possible to keep the normal world at bay. Tonight I find myself in Preston, looking to mainline pure rock n rock, supplied by the Jim Jones Revue.
It’s an odd place tonight. As always me and Mudkiss editor Mel get there early to scout out the area. However we manage to stand there for ages before we realise that a queue is steadily forming at another entrance of the building. It seems even seasoned pros may mistakes now and again. Still once we’ve rectified our mistake we managed to end up on the front line
I’ve got all Jim Jones’s records, but honestly, nothing can prepare you for the full sonic assault of this band. It’s great when the groups mind works as one, and there’s almost a telepathic connection between the five men that have come to cause havoc in Preston.
They rip through their set with manic fervor that gets the crowd hot and dancing from the off. I know Jim Jones is the titular head of this band, but Rupert Orton is very nearly his equal in the visual stakes.
I love it because the volume and the wildness of the performance wash over me and leave me clean of sin. It’s a long held belief that rock n roll is the devils music, well, if it is, then I’m a disciple. This band rock big time and if you want a passionate show full of commitment and heart then you need to make sure you catch them next time they hit your town.
There’s not a song tonight that this band plays that doesn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. Some would say it’s retro, but fuck that, I’d say its timeless and great music will always be current. We get an encore but really the Jim and the boys could have played all night for me.