It’s only 5PM and a big queue already snakes down Oxford Street confusing shoppers, and Olympic tourists. Whets going on we were asked several times? Well this was one of several gigs being held at the venue for free courtesy of Converse who were putting on a wide array of bands over the next week or so and even giving out free shirts on entry for those in first. Tonight in case you had not worked it out was punk night, we shall also be reporting on the metal night which Overkill are headlining.

First up were an unknown to me, a trio from London called Dumbjaw. They strode on stage and went for it with no mucking about. Some neat jangly guitar solos forged out the speakers and had some bopping about to the three chord strumming as the band made the most of the venues long stage. To be honest by the time we got to the second song it was obvious that my jaw was not going to hit the floor and was remaining dumb as this was a bit too pop and not enough punk for my liking; too melodic and shining, lacking in spit and venom. There was also a bit of a Britpop feel at times to things and it certainly Blurred the lines. ‘One In A Million’ was a case in point here but still it encouraged you to tap feet to the beat and no doubt after a couple of listened it was the sort of number that would have had you singing along to it.

It was time to go out with the new and in with the old and although he got one there was no intro necessary for Edward Tudor Pole, I had a feeling we were going to know a few of these songs. Ever flamboyant he certainly looked a picture and an eccentric old punk gent replete with sequined trousers. Punk Rock he said had given him a doorway into freedom and then with guitar a strumming it was as if punk had headbutted Johnny Cash, Gene Vincent and even Slim Whitman for the next half an hour. Some cheeky recognisable riffs got the crowd baying but he wanted to play some less recognisable songs including one about murder called ‘Valentine O’Hara’ which definitely had a hint of 50s crooner meets Alfie Moon down the Queen Vic about it. To appease the hecklers the baby was thrown out the bathwater and the yodels hit the rafters. Three Bells took us back to the pub and was an ode about playing on the old fruit machine, probably from back when you could do so for a shilling. It was as if his deer life depended on it and the inevitable ‘Who Killed Bambi’ was finally aired and went down a storm. As for a final Swords Of A Thousand Men what can I say? Crystal amazing!

I have heard the name Goldblade a lot but never caught them. They certainly looked the part, peroxide peaks and pork pie hats and as soon as they started it was obvious they walked the talk and we were getting the first proper band of the night from these Mancunians. The band were busy high kicking the air and gang shouts rained down giving the audience their first proper chance to respond and get in on the action themselves. Riffs at first reminded me of the Dead Kennedys and the vocals a bit horrorpunk akin to the Misfits. However as things progressed there was a definite street punk brawl about it all. Dividing the room into a nice and chaos side for ‘War was a good idea although I was happy to sit on the fence with a beer and watch battle commence. There was loads of energy about this and it was like an out of control train rattling down the rails. Fitting as much as they could in their allotted time things started off well with ‘Rebel Song’ and an amusing ‘My name Is Psycho’ keeping the set flowing nicely. For me they fell apart at the end though wasting time with a moronic repeated chant of ‘Do You Believe In The Power Of Rock And Roll’ which was frankly way too Kiss for it’s own good, next!

We knew one thing that there would be no fucking about from Discharge who were the main draw for me tonight. Having seen them a fair few times over the years and although never quite keeping up with the ever changing line up it was a case of get ready for some violence and we got that in spades with beer hitting the ceiling and the brave hitting the dance floor after launching off the stage from the off. We got a shed load of classic songs all gobbed out in vitriolic fashion from singer Anthony “Rat” Martin. ‘Hear Nothing and The Nighmare Continues kicking it off in style. The sound levels took a while to get used to, the guitars gnawed and scythed and the drums thudded without any mercy. There was nothing feeble about it apart from the bastard song which was one that the crowd were yelling for along with the likes of Never Again which all saw death on the dance floor and mohawks wilting in the heat as sweat dripped down our faces. Taking notes was impossible for this but the songs kept coming and with the likes of ‘State Violence’ included there was no let up and I lost count of how many the band got in during their 30 minute stint. Finishing off with ‘Decontrol’ it was time to collapse!

Now the Anti Nowhere League were another bunch I had not seen for a while and had always though that after their heyday they had gone into a bit of a pub rock band. They proved me wrong though I am glad to say and I found everything about them to be most enjoyable. For a start they should be given loads of money as the Tunbridge road hogs look like their image has been totally stolen for Sons Of Anarchy, you could even match some of them to cast members. From the second they started with plenty of gobby bravado and classic rocking guitar lines you could see why the likes of Motorhead are still happy to name drop them and take them on the odd date (musical that is). Singer Animal still seems to be very much in his element and postures away laughing at audience members sticking their fingers up. This lot along with Pete And The Test Tube Babies were always one of the more offensive bands out their lyric wise and I remember fondly diving for the cassette button and flicking the off switch as quickly as possible when the parents used to unexpectedly put in an appearance just as I was rocking out to the likes of ‘I Hate People’ and the anti anthem ‘Streets Of London’ which went down very well indeed tonight. Before these though ‘We will Survive’ was certainly a statement and one that nobody was denying. There were a couple of songs I did not know but were certainly not pub rock sort of crap, one about my gods bigger than your god being both amusing and sadly so true. as for the ones I did know including ‘So What and Woman’ well call me happier than a pig in shit and roll me in clover; great stuff.

So life in the old dogs yet? Well it must be 15 years or so since I last caught the UK Subs from memory at the Dome in Tufnell Park. The night is etched not so much for the music but due to the fact that Charlie Harper got a couple of (ahem) topless ladies on the stage bouncing around and like him they were no spring chickens. As for now, he is the disreputable old pensioner of punk, perhaps the equivalent of metal’s Ozzy but thankfully not quite that infirm. As for the rest of the band well they have had so many members over the years keeping up is impossible (according to wiki 33 drummers alone, how Spinal Tap is that). I recognised a couple from the recesses of my mind, Jet Storm on guitar and that bassist who was not from the Buzzcocks we were laughingly informed Alvin Gibbs who was been back and forth into the line up since 1980.

They got those who were still around bopping away at the front but it was quickly obvious these were somewhat old dogs compared to the likes of some of the bands that had come before them and the bluesy rocking numbers were far more laid back both on stage and apart from some audience participation that was by now very drunk, off it as well. I should have recognised more of the set but guess this is a band I am guilty of only really knowing the classics. What struck me was how much this reminded more of the likes of Garage bands and the stooges than anything else. It was enjoyable enough and as Charlie decreed in song that he was ‘Born A Rocker, Die A Rocker’ nobody was going to deny him that. Good deep bass sound and chaotic grinding guitars cut through the speakers on the likes of ‘Hell Is Other People’ and people were now trying to get on stage and knocking things over, typical punk rock carnage. It’s punk not drunk rock! Suitably enough as the band played on they called it civilization for ‘This Chaos.’ From here it all gets a bit blurry but I did get one of the songs I wanted to hear ‘Stranglehold’ and sang along so all was good. Cheers Converse a product I have no problem endorsing as the corporate whores of the Olympics parade around in parasitic fashion, however at a show like this thank god for steel toe capped boots!

Pete Woods