For the first time since 6 Nov 2019, Boy Child and I set off together in search of live music. No trains involved this time. I was being chauffeured to Glasgow as we headed up the M8 towards SWG3. (Ok, so technically the science centre car park and we walked the rest of the way.)

So, who had the honour of being Boy Child’s first post-Covid gig?… Skindred.

Negative lateral flow results, vaccine passports and masks at the ready, we joined the queue. Tickets were duly scanned, wrists were stamped (What do SWG3 put in that ink? I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed, and that damn stamp is still there 36 hours later!) we duly headed into SWG3.

This evening’s festivities were in The Galvanisers, a room that holds around 1250. This was my first venture into this hall, and I have to say I was impressed. Great venue! (Skindred voiced the same thought a few hours later.)

Rail spot secured. Happy girl.

First on the bill were Glasgow based band Anchor Lane. For those who follow this blog and have good memories, these guys supported Tremonti back in June 2018 and, due to travel delays caused by excessive heat (Yes it was the day Glasgow hit 30C), I missed half their set. Three years later and it was worth the wait! Six songs just weren’t enough. The growing Glasgow audience was treated to several tracks from their debut album Casino, including the title track. I’d love to have heard more. Front man, Conor Gaffney, did a sterling job of engaging the crowd. I think we were all clear that these boys were somewhat happy to be back onstage in their hometown. Do yourself a favour and check these youngsters out – Anchor Lane (anchorlanemusic.com)

Next up were Raging Speed Horn. Sorry, guys, I’m going to adopt my Thumper Principle here. (If ya can’t say nuffin’ nice, don’t say nuffin’ at all.) I do have to give them credit for going on despite being a man down (They were missing one of their two vocalists due an accident at the Nottingham gig the night before). Fair play to Benji from Skindred for nipping onstage to voice his encouragement too. Not my genre of choice.

Moving swiftly on.

At nine thirty, with the venue almost at capacity, the lights dimmed and the familiar sound of ACDC’s Thunderstruck rang out. The tape was almost drowned out by the crowd’s chant of “Here we, here we, here we f**king go” but the fans soon changed tune to sing along passionately to ACDC. As Thunderstruck moved on to The Imperial March (dubstep remix) Skindred took to the stage. Showman and front man, Benji Webbe looked resplendent in a scarlet sparkling jacket that matched his shoes and scarf.

This was only my second experience of seeing Skindred live. I last saw them support Disturbed back in May 2019 and was instantly hooked by their live delivery.

I’m not going to lie, I don’t generally listen to their music at home but live this is a party you don’t want to miss! It’s worth the ticket price to listen to Benji’s patter alone.

For eighty some minutes, we “woop wooped”. We declared “that’s my jam”. We “oh oh oh’d”. We “woah woah woahed” and it was awesome!

Their set was interspersed with snippets of other songs, adding to the party fun. We were even treated to a “30 second sandwich” challenge where a volunteer from the audience joined them on stage to consume an entire sandwich in 30 seconds. (Fair play to Dylan for choking down that piece!)

Above all, after months and months of musical drought conditions, we had fun!

Behind us, the crowd was moshing. (Boy Child declined to mosh – I’m guessing he wasn’t feeling “gig fit” after months of Spotify) Much as I hate to see it, the crowd surfers were coming down and over front and centre. Kudos to Showsec for taking care of those folks.

Highlights for me were That’s My Jam and Kill The Power. There was a moment of poignancy as Benji Webbe, and guitarist Mikey Demus played the only ballad of the evening Saying It Now. A reminder to all about what we’ve gone through since early 2020. The moment wasn’t lost on the Scottish fans who fell respectfully quiet.

It wouldn’t be a Skindred show if it didn’t end with Warning and the obligatory whirling t-shirt “Newport helicopters”. Entertaining if sweat-scented stuff!

As Skindred took their final bows, the room was filled with the strains of Nobody Does It Better. Couldn’t have put it better myself.