Into Live Music Review: The Bluebells
Concert: The Bluebells
Venue: Glasgow Barrowland
Dates: 1 February 2025
Athens may have the Pantheon, Rome the Colosseum and Mexico City has the Estadio Azteca but to me, none can beat nor compete with the Glasgow Barrowland. It is our Mecca, our place of worship for all things music, that sacred place where we commune with our sonic saviours. They say, “the places we love the most are the places we love together“. That much is true. And to quote Robert Hodgens “How come I love them now? How come I love them more?“. That much is also true. With the strum and twang of Young At Heart enveloping the venue, it reminds us that the listeners’ relationship with the song has evolved as we have, over the forty odd years since its release. And in certain ways, it remains the same. Memories of parents gone and parents still here. Decades on, many in the crowd have taken on that parental mantle. That beautifully poignant cycle of life elicits a host of thoughts of past, present and future. That’s both the power of music and The Barrowland.
First opened by Maggie McIver, the Barras Queen ninety one years ago in 1934, the venue had only been returned to a concert worthy state since 1983. Incredibly, The Bluebells had never played it (with exception of an industry award night) but they made up for that with a stunning show that hit the ground running from Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool through to the set closing Buffalo Springfield cover of For What Its Worth.
On a dreich Saturday night in February, two thousand punters rocked up to share the love. They came from Ponteland and Partick, Leeds and Lesmahagow, Dundee Lochee and Dunipace and Thorniewood. Maybe even Troon. But no matter which way you turned, everyone had a smile on their face, here to see their band accept the Holy Grail. In fact, it felt less of a concert than the biggest house party Glasgow had seen in many a year. Of course, the band had to – and did – play their part, the sound magnificent and the lighting without doubt the best I’d witnessed in years here. Beams and solid arches of blue, red, yellow and peach, which made for a photographer’s dream.
Mick Slavin’s guitar provided the heft while John McCusker’s violin took several tunes to another level. I never thought I’d write about someone pulling off the double denim look but Douglas MacIntyre did that, oozing coolness behind his shades and quiff and providing measured guitar licks. At the back, Campbell Owens on bass was an ideal foil for David McCluskey’s solid drumming, off the scale on Anyone Could Be A Buzzcock. Central to it all of course was singer Ken McCluskey, providing some dry wit along the way but also some pointed words on the state of the world. Meanwhile, Bobby Bluebell supplied the rhythms and a great vocal on Daddy Was An Engineer.
Too many highlights of course, but South Atlantic Way segueing into The Patriot Game and back again was extraordinary. The pointlessness of war remains as relevant now as when those songs were first penned. I’m Falling provides five or so minutes of the very best adrenalin fueled pop one’s likely to hear. Sing-alonglorious.
I’ve seen more shows in The Barrowland than at any other venue and in my view, it remains the best. From the iconic neon sign, the climb of the stairs, the stars on the ceiling, the spring-loaded floor, the atmosphere, the people and of course the bands. I always say the next gig there will be the best. Now? I am not so sure. The last one was that special. A celebration that will live long in the memory.
1934 was a special year. The Barrowland was born. Babe Ruth hit his last ever home run for the New York Yankees at the stadium known affectionately as The Cathedral of Baseball. On Saturday night, Bobby, David, Ken and the rest of The Bluebells smashed their own home run in Glasgow’s Monument to Music.
Review by John Welsh & George Paterson
@welshjb & @gfpaterson
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