The Roundhouse, that London
Well this was fun! A full 42 years since I last darkened their doors, here was I back in the drizzle of Chalk Farm Road, queuing up with more eager elders than a post office on pension day. And hasn’t it polished up well? No sooner inside than a tap on the shoulder, and it was @philpirrip, each of us gagging for a pint. After a brief check of our credentials, concerts seen and records heard, in we went to catch McNally Waters. Strange, I thought, that the support group for a Pink Floyd offshoot, if I can call them that, should contain a Waters, and, of course, it was indeed the son of Rog. Quite the wrong band for this evening, they weren’t bad, playing a very Band like set of songs, ragged harmonies and tinkling piano. Only an incongruous drum solo reminded us we were in dinosaur territory. So much for nepotism, they played perhaps 30 minutes, and, in another setting, outside, mid-afternoon at a festival, I think they would go down as well as a pint in the sunshine. A short break and momentous music, all feedback and 60s » Continue Reading.