The King Blues

Academy, Manchester - 2 Mar 2008

by Pete Charles

They are the music men, and they CAN play

"The King Blues depart, still an essentially underground act, but with fists raised and tugging persistently at the trouser-legs of the mainstream"

Photo © Mortimer

It’s a wet Sunday night in Manchester and the students' union is swarming with impossibly spikey people, covered head to foot in metal accessories, sweat and obligatory ‘Nazi Punks Fuck Off’ patches. They’re at tonight’s sold-out gig for headliners Anti-Flag who, like The King Blues, are unreservedly vocal in their opposition of war, choosing to express their views via the tried and tested medium of loud, fast punk rock music. Any die-hard 'Flag fans unfamiliar with the music of tonight’s openers might well take issue with the sight of their guitar tech out front tuning a ukulele.

Evidently, the King Blues’ sound, essentially folk music tinged with elements of reggae, ska and dub is a world away from the high octane punk rock of Anti-Flag, but the message is much the same, and perhaps even more relevant than that of the headliners, since you can actually hear it above the din. During the intro to ‘Blood On My Hands’, they hold out a huge white sheet on which they spray-paint “The King Fucking Blues”, which is then launched directly at your humble scribe’s head.

If it had been a cartoon, the ensuing melée would have been obscured by a turbulent dust cloud and a series of audible biffs and boffs. Dazed, New Noise escape our assailants in time for a new song, ‘Save The World, Get The Girl’. It sits snugly amongst the older songs and easily wins over the Anti-Flag faithful with some clever word-play: “why should we lean on you when it’s all for one and one for FUCK ALL!” It’s a pleasing reminder that despite the triumph of their début album ‘Under The Fog’, The King Blues haven’t even got going yet.

The band/crowd relationship is clearly important to frontman Jonny ‘Itch’ Fox, who simply oozes charisma, the punters wilting under the power of his call and response lyrics. By the time they wheel out their anti-BNP dub-step number ‘Come Fi Di Youth’, Itch has them in the palm of his hand and even the pointiest of hairdos is bobbing happily along.

Itch rallies an already engrossed crowd in between songs with a political spiel which hits home hard, but he never patronises and always makes his audience feel valued: “I believe that music and politics can go together and that this generation DOES care about politics, and I have every faith that if the BNP came to this town giving out their leaflets and organising their meetings, you would CHASE THEM THE FUCK OUT!”

By this point, The King Blues can do no wrong, so when they whip out a compendium of percussion instruments at the end of ‘These Streets Are Ours’ and lead the Academy in a mini samba wig-out, nobody bats an eyelid. Their biggest hit to date ‘Mr Music Man’ and a left-side/right-side sing-off in ‘Taking Over’ close a superb set and The King Blues depart, still (as Itch notes) an essentially underground act, but with fists raised and tugging persistently at the trouser-legs of the mainstream.

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