Tribute Bands

There have been cover acts ever since rock n' roll began. Aspiring performers learn by attempting to copy their idols and fledgling bands bash out standards before perhaps going on to pen their own material. For many musicians, playing in a covers group or wedding outfit is a way of earning extra cash - the more dedicated acts may even manage to operate on a fully professional basis. The tribute show is now a popular part of concert schedules across the country, concentrating solely on reproducing the music of one singer or band as authentically as possible. These acts range from slick theatre productions to small pub gigs. Some play no doubt purely for beer money while others make a good living from comprehensive national tours.

The first tribute concert I attended was back in the mid-90s while at university in Dundee. My flatmate and I went to see the Australian Pink Floyd in a small club venue. The place was busy and I seem to remember drinking creamy Caffrey's "premium" Irish ale. Just the sort of nitrokeg nonsense I avoid like the plague nowadays. But when you're 21 you'll drink anything that's wet and I'm wagering a craft/cask beer scene barely existed in the city back then outside of a mere handful of specialist pubs. I enjoyed the show and remember my mate Gary quipping that the visual appearance of the band members didn't matter as nobody knew (or cared) what the real Floyd looked like. This argument won't apply to all tribute shows of course. The David Bowie Experience recently rolled into Dunfermline and I'm sure multiple costume changes were very much an integral part of the set. The Aussie Floyd went on to enjoy considerable success and have performed at festivals across the globe, as have a handful of other copycat artists such as the Bootleg Beatles. I've attended a few tribute gigs over the past few years:- A nice double bill of AC/DC and ZZ Top with the former act having two singers to handle the Bon Scott and Brian Johnson eras. I headed through to Cumbernauld to see Motorheadache and mainman Rob Campbell looked scarily like Lemmy. A great night! An excellent Guns n' Roses pastiche in Dunfermline marred only by a pitiful crowd. A faithful reproduction of music from The Jam. The grandest production was Rumours of Fleetwood Mac, who drew a large crowd to the Alhambra Theatre and were even signing programmes and flogging merchandise after the set! They pack out venues up and down the UK and also play a mini set of Peter Green numbers, ensuring the early days of the Green God and his disciple Danny Kirwan are remembered. A tragic fate was to befall both men, Green losing his way to mental illness and the equally troubled Kirwan drowning in a sea of alcohol.

In stark contrast, the acoustic Mac show Nicole and I saw in Glenrothes was substandard. The husband and wife duo simply weren't good enough to properly interpret some of the biggest selling songs of all time. The lukewarm audience response certainly wasn't improved by the announcement they would pad out their allotted stage time with a few numbers from their Beatles, Eagles and Police projects. The bloke asked for a request and with no answer forthcoming, I boldly shouted out Roxanne, immediately realising I'd probably just asked him to sing one of the more difficult Police songs. Credit where it's due - he actually delivered a fine rendition (duplicating Sting must be his main strength) but I made a mental note not to book tickets for the acoustic Beatles show I'd seen advertised in the theatre guide. I telephoned my mum to tip her off about the underwhelming prospect of these guys attempting to play a Fab Four set. Now to the show that inspired me to write this article. Since my teenage years, I've been a huge fan of vocalist Paul Rodgers and the two bands he fronted in the 70s - Free and Bad Company. All Right Now by Free is one of those anthemic rock standards everyone knows but there was far more to the band than playing chest-beating stompers. Free began as a blues rock outfit but absorbed elements of soul into their repertoire and penned many sensitive songs alongside the rockier fare. The four members: Rodgers, Paul Kossoff (guitar) Andy Fraser (bass) and Simon Kirke (drums) were barely 20 as Alright Now became a huge hit single and launched them to stardom.

The first two albums were promising but next effort Fire and Water was the big commercial breakthrough. Follow-up release Highway displayed a lighter sound but was - in my opinion - just as good. Strangely it failed to trouble the charts and lead single The Stealer - a punchy track not too dissimilar to Alright Now - fared no better. Utterly disillusioned, the band tragically split. Ironically, a parting shot - the jaunty My Brother Jake - rose into the top-10 with lyrics about a young man pissing his life away. "Who couldn't relate to that?" mused Simon Kirk many moons later. The record company put out a live album after the band's demise which hit the spot. Free regrouped a year or so later but the results were variable. The comeback album was a mixed bag; excellent moments like Soldier Boy, Sail On and Little Bit Of Love but also a degree of uninspired filler, whereas well-meaning misfires might have been a better way to describe the less than stellar tracks on earlier releases. Virtuoso bass player Andy Fraser (no relation to yours truly!) quit after the tour, apparently frustrated at the physical condition of Paul Kossoff, which had led to some disastrous performances where a heavily drugged Koss was way behind everyone else.

The story of Kossoff's decline due to substance abuse is an awful tale. His main vice allegedly was mandrax - a powerful sedative intended to treat insomnia but one which rendered people drooling idiots if over consumed. Free's final album, Heartbreaker, was patchy but kicked off with the now-classic Wishing Well. It's uncertain how much guitar Kossoff actually contributed and he was absent from the final shows as the band limped on before calling it a day. Paul Kossoff died on a transatlantic flight in 1976 at the shockingly young age of 25. His new band, Back Street Crawler, had been making steady progress.

Rodgers and Kirke launched Bad Company and found immediate success in America. Playing a harder rocking style, they notched up a string of platinum albums of which the first two are essential and the remainder fall victim to the law of diminishing returns. Bad Co petered out in the early 80s and Rodgers recorded a fine solo album before hooking up with former Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page. Dubbed a supergroup from the outset, The Firm suffered from the common problem of the total being somewhat less than the sum of its parts and the band made only a modest impact. The remaining members of Bad Company regrouped with other vocalists and released a few albums which blew hot and cold. A couple sold well. Eventually Rodgers returned to the fold and the classic line-up toured on and off, finding the nostalgia circuit a lucrative one. Unfortunately the band lost the services of long-time guitarist Mick Ralph, who was incapacitated by a stroke and won't play again. Rodgers took "The Free Experience" on the road but hefty ticket price of £85 didn't lure me to Glasgow.

I didn't initially intend to write a distillation of both bands' careers but there you go. Back to the Carnegie Hall, Dunfermline. I headed along on a Friday evening to watch the Spirit of Bad Company & Free. Figuring it wouldn't sell out, I bought a ticket on the door. As expected, the balcony was closed off but a healthy crowd of at least 150 assembled in the stalls. Opening with the song "Bad Company" from the eponymous debut album, it instantly became apparent that singer Alan King was more than up to the job. An impeccable set of classic material ensued with the band nailing every number. It transpired Alan was local when he quipped mid-set "I usually joke at this point I have to catch my bus home after this number. I really am getting the bus tonight but can stay to the end, as I'm just down the road in Rosyth. Mind you, I don't have my pass yet so it's costing me £2.50". Great banter! I did a wee bit of research on Alan and discovered he'd been in a signed band back in the day who had supported a few big names. That didn't surprise me as he was obviously a quality vocalist and could handle the Paul Rodgers songbook while retaining elements of his own style. I also discovered the band was moonlighting this evening and their regular identity is Hotel California Scotland - The Eagles show. They have toured this act nationwide for many years. As the houselights came on at the end, a bloke I knew from yoga classes clocked me and pretty much told me to get my arse to an Eagles event. Duly noted!

The tribute scene is certainly thriving. Some say it abstracts potential support for up and coming bands but a typical tribute audience is middle aged. Would they otherwise be out in the big city following new trends in clubs and bars? There's nothing wrong with enjoying a night of excellent music in your local theatre and having a couple of beers beforehand if you fancy. What about Free's bass god Andy Fraser? - he who played that extended solo during Mr Big. Andy faded from the live music scene in the mid-70s but penned a few notable hits for other artists in the following decade. In any case, he didn't need to worry about finances as a co-writer of All Right Now. He re-emerged as a recording artist in 2005, released his autobiography and returned to the stage. I caught him at the Green Hotel, Kinross, in 2013. This venue specialises in retro acts and Andy had the highly-respected veteran session guitarist Chris Spedding in the line-up. Sharing guitar duties was teenage prodigy Tobi Earnshaw and it was certainly an entertaining evening with Spedding absolutely mesmerising. Andy came to the bar after the show to sign merchandise and I managed a brief word with him. Upon hearing he was chatting to a fellow Fraser, Andy relayed some of his colourful family history involving a slave plantation in British Guyana. Andy is of mixed race heritage and the plantation owner was a Fraser. You can guess the rest. The upshot being Andy and I agreeing upon the Fraser clan being a "bunch of dirty fuckers"

Amen to that!

Commercial Inn open again

A couple of months ago, I was dismayed to read on Facebook about the closure of my favourite local hostelry - the Commercial Inn. Located in Dunfermline town centre, I had visited many times over the last 20 years in order to sample the excellent selection of real ale. I was on the bus home from work when I heard the bad news and was actually planning on popping in for a quick pint before changing to a local service - a regular part of my commuting routine (both the bus and the beer, that is). The steel shutters across the doorway confirmed the closure and I completed my homeward journey without the usual bounce in my step. Yes, there is a nice Wetherspoons on the High Street dispensing ever-changing cask beer at bargain prices but the Commercial had a more personal atmosphere and the staff were knowledgeable about their wares, giving you a warm welcome.

A story surfaced in the local press saying the owners of the building were confident the premises would re-open under new management. Fighting talk, but it's a different story finding someone to put up the necessary finance in a day and age where the licensed trade faces harsh challenges. As the weeks ticked by and the entrance remained firmly bolted, I began to prepare for life as a 'Spoons regular. I should say at this point I'm a committed cask drinker and don't frequent pubs that sell only bland keg fare. I began to question my own patronage of the Commercial. Did I go often enough? Could I have done more to support a local business close to my own heart? The answer of course is I was a loyal customer and have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. I went the extra mile on a couple of occasions where I had the opportunity to choose the venue for a gathering and insisted upon the Commercial - purely to give the place a boost. Individuals can only do so much. Collectively as a society we should remember the old "use it or lose it" maxim. Finally some good news appeared on the horizon. The pub was set to re-open with former head barman Andy Black as new mine host. This was what I'd been waiting to hear. Andy knew the ropes and would almost certainly keep the strong cask tradition alive. Feedback was highly positive on Facebook. Someone enquired whether meals would still be served. Until 5pm was the resounding response. I couldn't manage a visit on the opening weekend but swung by the following Monday on my homeward journey. Just shy of 20 people were inside, an excellent figure for the beginning of the week. Six ales were on tap and I opted for a pint of Musselburgh Broke - a malty bitter that went down a treat on a cold evening.

Obviously interest had been generated by the re-opening and business will settle down into a more regular pattern, but I do wish Andy every success in his new role. He was running in and out, no doubt trying to do three things at once. "24-hour working days are my life now" he said, stopping to shake my hand. Let's hope the relaunch gets off to a good start and this legendary alehouse is re-established as a go-to destination for beer fans visiting Dunfermline. I returned a couple of days later, again on my way home from work. Around 15 people were present which was encouraging to see. This time I opted for a spiced session porter which hit the spot on another chilly evening. The Commercial was known for having a mixed range of beer styles. A common remark in real ale circles is the propensity for many outlets to focus on lighter coloured beers and hoppier varieties. Traditional bitters remain popular but have to jostle for position on the bar whereas previously their presence would have been taken for granted. Winter warming beers enjoy seasonal representation but the overall picture for darker ales (and milds) is not as healthy as it could be. Pubs are of course businesses and must deal with changing social habits and the decline of the High Street. You could certainly argue the influx of golden ales satisfies the younger drinking crowd that represents the future of cask. I enjoy real ale in all its forms and simply wish for a reasonable choice to ensure there is something to suit every taste.

Blairadam Forest

I've heard many walkers say they find long forest trails monotonous - particularly if it's a managed plantation of ubiquitous pine. I can sympathise with this viewpoint as it's not terribly exciting to trek for miles along Forestry Commission roads. In my opinion, woodland walking is best accompanied by other points of interest, be they historical or geographical. A good example is the Devilla plantation in West Fife where many hidden treasures lurk within the trees and I have already documented my wanderings there. Last weekend I planned a circular tour of Blairadam Forest, near Kelty. Nicole was attending a workshop at RSPB Loch Leven (Vane Farm in old money) and I drove the few miles back to the small village of Keltybridge to begin my excursion.

The crossing of the Kelty Burn marks the boundary between the historic counties of Fife and Kinross-shire. The latter is now administered by the modern council area of Perth & Kinross but the old county retains a strong identity. A historic road sign stands adjacent to the bridge - perhaps left for posterity. I took a farm track towards the forest, actually the small part of the Fife Pilgrim Way lying marginally outside the Kingdom. Under the M90 and into the woods, I walked up to the remains of an old mineral railway bridge. The "Beast of Blairadam" is carved into the brickwork and there is an impressive totem pole nearby, apparently fashioned by a group of first-nation Canadians on a visit to Scotland. I'd been at this point a couple of years back. On that day I followed the railway trackbed from the edge of Kelty to the point where it was severed by the motorway. I picked up the Mine Trail in the forest and found the spot where a 100-foot viaduct once crossed the burn. A toppled chunk of pier is the only evidence remaining. I remember this wander for two reasons. It became dark while I was exploring and I used Google Maps on my newly-acquired smartphone to restore my bearings and guide me back to the car park. That same evening I watched an online broadcast of a remembrance service for rock musician Lemmy Kilmister, who fronted Motorhead for 40 years until his death. A great British band who never deviated from the constant schedule of touring and recording. I raised my glass to him.

Aside from myriad pit lines, Kelty once had a railway station on the Edinburgh to Perth route via Kinross. Yet looking at today's landscape, you have to keep your eyes peeled to spot clues to this former hive of train activity. Passenger services in Kelty ceased as far back as 1930 which appears rather baffling upon first hearing. A slew of station closures did take place in that year but they were mainly minor halts that probably never did any meaningful business. Kelty was a prosperous mining community of thousands and we are talking about a time before car ownership was commonplace. Why did the station bite the dust? The answer lies in the local tram network. Fares to larger settlements such as Cowdenbeath and Dunfermline were cheaper under the wires and services far more frequent. Enough traffic was siphoned off to persuade the railway company to remove Kelty from the national network. Of course, tram systems all over the country were eventually rendered obsolete by buses - although light rail travel has been reintroduced to a handful of major cities. The case of Kelty does underline that railway closures did not begin with infamous axeman Richard Beeching in the 1960s. However, it was rare for a full line to be chopped in the pre-war days.

Back to today's walk, I followed a path paralleling the course of the old railway and once again walked out to the point where the line straddled the gorge. It appears the 100-foot label may have been a tad exaggerated but the bridge must nonetheless have been an impressive sight. The remains of mine workings lurk in the undergrowth in this part of the forest but industrial exploration wasn't the priority today, but rather to complete a circular walk with a small hill climb in the middle. I traversed the burn again but the county boundary actually lay along a small tributary a short walk away. Blairadam has a maze of paths and tracks within its confines and it certainly helps to keep a map handy if you are planning to delve deep into the woodland. I was steadily gaining height and as I followed a road through a particularly dense patch, the sunlight formed an illuminated column ahead of me and presented a wonderful photo opportunity. One for my Instagram feed. I was initially rather sceptical about joining this worldwide picture sharing platform, my reasoning being what does it offer that Facebook doesn't already have? I can only share images? No links or text updates? I decided to give it a whirl but my initial response was lukewarm - until I discovered the power of the hashtag.

For those still in the dark, an Instagram hashtag - for example #walkingtrails - is a means of attaching a reference to a picture that will group it together with other images bearing the same tag. The software detects your interests and your news feed will sometimes feature photos bearing a hashtag matched to your perceived preferences. Therefore adding relevant hashtags to your posts is a method of attracting new followers, who of course may then browse your other pictures and like some of them too. You can also actively follow a hashtag (as well as other Instagram users). When you insert a tag for the first time, Instagram shows you how many instances currently exist. By way of example, #walking has been used 19 million times whereas #walkingscotland has a count of 16000. Selective hashtagging effectively connects you with people who label their posts in a similar way. I have developed a routine of putting one picture per day on Instagram (either recently taken or from my archives) and - at the time of writing - my last ten images have all broken the 100-likes barrier. I'll soon be classed as an influencer! Move over Kim Kardashian!

The sun was shining and the sky was blue. A beautiful morning for a late-autumn walk. I was heading to the far corner of the forest where much tree felling had taken place and I was now out in the open. The map had shown two summits with a height difference of just 5 metres but no paths were marked. I therefore decided to scale whichever peak looked most accessible. The higher of the two - Cowden Hill - had plain grassy slopes and it was a simple case of hopping over a metal gate and making the short hike to the top. As soon as I emerged over the ridge, a beautiful view opened out. I was looking down upon Loch Leven, flanked by Benarty and Bishop Hills. There was nobody else around and I've always enjoyed the sensation of observing activity from a point of isolation. There wasn't anywhere to sit down so I strolled around taking a few photographs. I had made the correct decision to climb Cowden Hill as the neighbouring peak was covered in young trees and didn't appear to offer any significant views. Rather than retrace my steps, I took a straight path eastwards after descending Cowden Hill and this would lead me back to another tunnel under the M90. I followed the gradually sloping track through woodland then took a public right of way through pastureland - styles and gates helpfully provided. A woman passed on horseback and stopped for a quick chat. I caught glimpses of Blairadam House which has parts dating from the 1730s. Coal was mined on the estate for many years until the closure of the Blairenbathie drift mine in 1962. The Forestry Commission have owned most of the land since 1925 and it's difficult to imagine nowadays that this sprawling area of peaceful woodland was once alive with the clatter of industrial activity.

As I left the estate, I spotted what looked like a large walled garden although there didn't seem to be any way in. Blairadam House is still owned by the Adam family and has guest bedrooms available to rent. No railways remain in the vicinity of Kelty. The main route to Perth was scandalously closed in 1970 and part of the trackbed through Glen Farg was wiped out by the construction of the M90. There have been half-hearted calls to restore this line but it would be a massively expensive project and something of a pipe dream. I wandered through the tiny villages of Maryburgh and Keltybridge before collecting my car and driving up to Kinross. I got myself a cold drink and sat in the car for half an hour listening to Planet Rock radio station. I'm always tuned into PR when driving and it plays a wide selection from the last 50 years. Then it was back to the nature reserve for a wee browse around the shop and to collect Nicole.