By Monk

Poster for UK Subs @ Voodoo, Belfast, 20 August 2022My home town was hosting a sort of “punk rock weekender”, with four gigs over the space of three days. XSLF had played this very same venue the previous evening, and Ferocious Dog were due to do the same the following night. But, despite the counter-attraction of local legends Stiff Little Fingers and The Undertones playing just ten minutes walk down the street, this evening was all about one band, and one man in particular. Yes, Charlie Harper and an impromptu incarnation of the U.K. Subs (we’ll come to that in a bit) were back in town for the sold-out second and final night of what had been billed as their “last ever Irish tour”…

Only Belfast could spawn a band by the name of Buck Eejit. Despite having never caught the band live before – although I have seen the constituent members in other outfits, such as The Defects – I knew from their reputation that there would be plenty of buckin’ eejitry on display, and so it proved to be, as evinced right from the off with Buck’s opening question of “how ya doin’ ya cunts?”. Yep, only in Belfast…

What follows is 30 minutes of fast ‘n’ furious back street punk ‘n’ roll that proves “we’re all the fucking same”, at least in this environment. Unfortunately, due to the early start, the gig’s sold out status is initially belied by the small peppering of devout early comers, although one eager onlooker is said Charlie Harper, who nods along appreciatively. However, by the end of their old-school, expletive-riddled set, a healthy crowd has gathered and ‘bangers such as ‘Paranoia’ go down a suitable storm.

Next up are a band who are as much veterans of the punk scene as our headliner, local stalwarts The Outcasts, who take us right back to the roots of the genre with an exhibition of how to do it properly. Despite starting to show their collective and individual ages, the quartet still possess plenty of grit and snarl, combined with catchy melodies and simple, stick in your craw riffs.

As the crowd starts to near capacity, these grizzled punk veterans defiantly epitomize the whole ethos and spirit of punk, delivering an electrifying set at an unrelenting pace which leaves the crowd baying for more.

Now, I mentioned this being an impromptu incarnation of the U.K. Subs, and the reason for this is simple: long-serving bassist Alvin Gibbs was unable to make the trip to Ireland due to recovering from the dreaded ‘rona, leading to promoter Steve Donnelly truly stepping up to the plate to fill in with just 48 hours notice and one rehearsal (plus, of course, the previous evening’s show in Dublin) under his belt. He turns in such an accomplished performance that it prompts Charlie Harper to remark that “it’s like he’s always been in the band”.

Opening with a defiant statement that ‘You Don’t Belong’, the Subs rip into a roaring set with an energy that denies their frontman’s 76 years, and over the course of the next hour engage in a thorough tunnelling of the Harper-led back catalogue. If the tempo slows it’s as noticeable as a flea on my Siberian wolf, which is not at all, as the crowd, whose demographic ranges from the vets of ’77 through to the new-age poster boys (and grrls), lap up every last second of this set of punk classics delivered with timeless enthusiasm and energy.

This may have been billed as the Subs’ last tour of this particular nether region of the rock ‘n’ roll Überverse, but I have a very funny feeling that this is far from the last we have seen of Sir Charles and whatever band of reprobate troubadours he chooses to fly the old school punk flag in years to come… I raise a glass to you, sirrah…

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