It's West End Festival time again in Glasgow. As a fervent supporter of live music - in truth I was gasping for a pint on this surprisingly warm day - a visit to the Liquid Ship was called for.
You know the thing that worries me about Crawford Smith? I'll tell you. He's always the first man on. I used to think that he just turned up and charmed his way on to the stage but now I think that he has actually got a cunning plan to become the face of Glasgow's acoustic music scene. Tonight, however, he has his soon to be wife Outi Karhula with him. Quite an interesting pairing they were too. Each of them write their own songs but they seem to come from the same spiritual place. The difference is in the delivery - Crawford's songs positively overflow with the joy of life whilst Outi's burn with a dark intensity. Like I said, an interesting combination.
Salon Society are hardly strangers to my ears. As a band, they get more focussed and - dare I say it - rockier each time I see them. I also remember remarking about lead singer Roxanne's theatrical on stage behaviour way back in their early days. Perhaps that caused a bout of self consciousness as she was rather restrained thereafter. Not tonight, however. She prowled the compact and bijou confines of the Liquid Ship like the caged rock tigress she has become and even leapt on to a table to belt out a song just like she had been possessed with the spirit of Alex Harvey. The band have a new single out in July so don't spend all your money on a holiday.
Next up was Dave Arcari. What can I say about him? Plenty actually but the important point for other musicians is that he is just one whisky fuelled man and a guitar an yet he could barely be restrained by the confines of this or any venue. He seems ten times louder than he could possibly be and he must have caused fear and confusion in the bar upstairs (and probably a few down the street) as he unleashed his blues flavoured musical demons. This was a well attended gig - in other words, the room was already warm - and Dave just kept heating things up all the way to boiling point. If you ever get to thinking that live music is dead, go see a Dave Arcari gig. You're guaranteed to leave with a big smile on your face.
Rounding things off were Hercules Mandarin. A band of varying number - tonight the lucky number was four - they are purveyors of mature, quality songs that manage to creep into your subconscious without you actually noticing. Yes, you could be humming "Always Never" in the kebab shop on the way home as you wait for your chicken pakora just like I was. The band were also undeterred by having to follow the madman Arcari and gave a poised and confident performance. It's about time somebody exploited the commercial potential of this band.
So there you have it. Beer, an abundance of good music and chicken pakora. Life is good.