Sunday 08/12/02 Tim Blake, Hawkwind @ The Lomax, Liverpool

Ahhh, there's nothing more satisfying than volleying a wet casey into someones face in a freezing cold Sunday morning game of footy. It Doanarf warm yer kite up like! Yisss.

Just as I thought the day couldn't get any better, I realised that tonight, I was off to see 'Pidgeon Blast'! No, that's not it, err… 'Budgie Hurricane', no, no, err… 'Hawkwind'! That's right! Groovy! Pass us me silver cape Eventa, I need to look the part!

We strolled down the black corridor of Wolstenholm Square to arrive at the golden void of The Lomax, leaving our footprints in the sands of time. Hawkfans on their way to the venue pointed in envy at my silver cape, and laughed in admiration of my Outer Space Visage. I felt like the master of the universe!

I felt a bit of a twat asking for two Red Stripe and change for the ciggy machine in that get up though, not at all what you'd expect to see a warrior at the end of time to be doing. Bugger!

So, without further ado, we headed into the venue to soak up the atmosphere among our fellow Space Cadets and watched in awe as the incredible psychodelic projections were being bounced around the room. Suddenly, a scrawny figure moved across the stage and sat at a bank of keyboards. Tim Blake, the builder of the New Jerusalem, and inventor of The Crystal Machine, had strapped into to his intergalactic time machine, and began to fire it up like the mad professor from Metropolis.

Whooosh! Rushing past me came a bloke from the audience with a folded up Aldi bag. "This is from me to you", said the bloke to an astonished looking synthesist, and handed over the bag. "It's my album", exclaimed the bloke, "My album was inspired by you. Much Peace and Love".

"Thank you very, very much", came the reply from Blakey in his growly 'Bladdy Landan' accent. And with that, a mouse click later, the room filled with Eastern Mystical rhythms and bleeps as he danced about over his rig, arms waiving in the air, soloing over the top with live keyboard.

Back to his Mac, cutting & pasting and dragging bar lengths, the spacey sounds poured out, and the crowd were already blissed and spaced out by the vibes man at 8pm on a Sunday evening, swaying and throwing weird shapes to the sonic hypnosis.

Suddenly… "Spleeweeechhhinnnnggggtttiisssssnrrrrr". …..The Mac had crashed and sent a billion bits of incorrect Midi information flying into a myriad of synths and samplers, causing the drivers in the PA to nearly blow a gasket! The smell was awful as the collective, blissed out crowd shit themselves, having being rudely, and instantly brought out of their deep trance by a terrifying laser attack from an intergalactic cruiser.

"Fakkin Ell", exclaimed the synthesist, as he tried to re-boot the Mac with his left hand, and hold down textured synth pads with the other. The crowd cheered and shouted out "We love it", "You know where it's at", and "We loved you in Gong".

Well, it all went a bit 'Hatstand', and the Mac was having none of it. Blakey apologised, and thanked the crowd for having him. "The last time I was in Liverpool was 22 years ago". And with that, Blakey left the stage, someone coughed, and the Mac came back to life! Ladies and Gentlemen, The 'Flying Teasmade' has landed!

Do Not Panic!!! Doooo Noooot Paaannniiiiiiic !

Eeeh, I'm quite partial to a bit of that Rub-a-Duck Reggae stuff during changeovers, however, I was getting annoyed by the amount of people standin' on me cape like! And then, whilst enjoying the Oil Wheel Projections creating a Cosmic Vortex of Vibeness in the room, I was accosted by what can only be descibed as… A Spaced Out Mong, trippin' on the event horizon of a black hole of ludicrosity. This… Sweaty bastard, unshaven, gap toothed miscreant decided to befriend me. "Thee gorroff wid me coat Laaaaar", as he looked for sympathy. All I could say was… "Sound". Then he buggered off!

The sound of 6 wheelchairs rolling onto the stage was almost deafening as the knobbies flashed their Maglites about to push Hawkwind, including the return of Blakey, into their positions. "Hurrah" shouted the crowd, as the band strapped into their instruments and fired up the keyboards from space. One particular keyboard was having a few problems, and Dave Brock struggled to get it working. I did however notice that it had big wooden ends on, a definite sign of age. Perhaps, they should have brought it from the future instead of the past!

Seconds later, the Hawkwind machine fired up, and they had set out on their intergalactic journey through space and time in typical Lords of Light fashion.

Bursting out from stage left came the legendary 'Arthur Brown', arms swinging, jumping and whirling about, resplendant in cowboy hat, ¾ length dinner jacket and gold lame MC Hammer kecks! I tell you what, for a 60 year old man, he could show the teenage bands of today a thing or two, rockin' out, raggin' the mic stand all over the place, and his voice was absolutely amazing!

The lightshow was a Brainbox Pollution of sparkly projections and illumination, with strobing projections and computer generated fx on the backdrop.

Brock stood brooding behind his keyborad rig, hammering at his guitar, looking all the part of a dodgy 'Landan' geezer from TV's Minder, whilst the bass player, when awake, or rather, when not looking like a sleeping pidgeon, reminded me of that 'orrible ginger chef from TV's 'Can't Cook, Won't Cook'.

Again, Arthur's voice soared high and swooped low, with amazing falsettos that would put Mariah Carey to shame. Track after glorious Hawkwind track were performed tonight, still interwoven with a theatrical mysticism. One section of quiet synth faded to nothing… Then uttering the haunting spoken words… "All things have a pattern"… The backdrop exploded in a cloudburst of light, and it was straight into an amazingly vibrant version of 'Hurry on Sundown'.

"We're gonna do one of Tim's old numbers now", growled Brock, and with that, Blakey kicked off the dodgy Mac with fingers crossed! 'Lighthouse' was amazingly faithful to the original album version. It may have been me just getting the monitor mix, but I thought he was singing "Light the lasers in your arse"?

During a version of Lemmy's 'The Watcher', lead guitar, 'Nigel Tuffnell' lookalike, went off for a piss and a cocoa, as computer screens were set to stun… Well, perhaps 640x480 due to failing eyesight!

A brilliant Hawkwind show as ever! Encore treats tonight were an amazing version of 'Sonic Attack', and of course… 'Silver Machine'. Me cape was wrecked! Nice One!

Photos by Eventa :: eventa@gigwise.com