Noble Jacks, here tonight as a duo, are made for this sort of setting. Hailing from Brighton, they have the kind of presence that can win a room over in no time at all, and from the off they do exactly that.
“Gun Hill” has that earthy, rootsy swing to it, the fiddle giving it a Levellers-like energy that feels absolutely perfect in a packed room like this. At one point Will Page tells the crowd to identify their dancing partner, and that pretty much sums the whole thing up. With the added kick drum thump behind them, this is music built to get people moving.
Then there is “Haul Away Joe”, exactly the kind of sea shanty-fuelled fun this audience laps up. And when the harmonica comes out for “Late Night Train” – apparently written on a broken-down train, no less – the place is primed.
“Better Man” lends itself particularly well to this stripped-back format too, proving that underneath all the racket and roar there are simply strong songs at the heart of what Noble Jacks do. And if much of the set has been, for want of a better word, stompy – and frankly that feels entirely fitting here – then it makes perfect sense that they finish with “Blacksmith’s Stomp”. It is a closer that does exactly what it says on the tin.
There is a nice line in patter too. If music does not work out, Will Page reckons he has always got his Donald Trump impression to fall back on. Let’s hope not, because there is no fake news or unhinged bullshit with Noble Jacks, just great songs, a lot of character, and the sort of set that makes them the perfect opening act for Ferocious Dog.
There is always a moment when you realise Ferocious Dog, in whatever iteration they happen to be, are not really like anybody else. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, sometimes it lands like a hammer. Tonight, it comes in “Slow Motion Suicide”, the last song of the set, when Jamie Drury is front and centre with his violin and suddenly the whole thing makes sense.
Walk-on music matters, and “There Is Power In A Union” ushering them on tells you plenty before they have even played a note. Ferocious Dog have always had that bond with their people, and their people, the Hellhounds, love them right back. You can feel that connection all night long.
“Cry Of The Celt” sums up exactly what they are about, all fire and identity and force of will. Then “Victims” arrives with Ken Bonsall making it clear what it is about, and there is no dressing that up. Ferocious Dog have never been interested in hiding their point. “Spin”, with the flute giving it that genuine trad feel, lands with even more weight now. Even after the country handed the Tories their arse, its message still bites.
“Broken Soldier” is especially poignant, given the history of the band, Ken introducing it for those sent off to fight illegal wars and then left to be picked up by charities when they come home. That is the trick Ferocious Dog have always pulled off better than most. They can be furious and compassionate at exactly the same time. “Black Leg Miner”, that old Northumberland folk song, sits perfectly in their hands, and “Cover Me”, written by Dave Burbidge but, as Bonsall says, with every word somehow about his own life, only deepens the emotional pull.
Then there is “Verse For Lee”, one of the most poignant moments of the whole set, before “The Glass” somehow catches the room’s mood absolutely spot on. “Slayed The Traveller” calls discrimination out for what it is, wherever it rears its ugly head, and “Criminal Justice” is introduced with Ken dedicating it to Margaret Thatcher because, as he puts it, she is in the right place. That gets the expected reaction.
“Running With The Hounds” underlines once again that the bond between the band and the Hellhounds is unbreakable. “The Protest Singer” makes the point that whether music can change the world is up for debate, but empowering people is another matter entirely. And when Bonsall says, before “Class War”, that they are not a political band, they just sing political songs, it is classic Ferocious Dog: funny, pointed, and absolutely dead right. The reggae tinge in that one only adds to it.
“Yellow Feather”, dedicated to a local man who died, brings another lump to the throat. “Bedlam Boys” bristles with intent, and then “Sus Laws” explodes. If anyone ever wanted to know why Ferocious Dog are such a force live, this is your evidence right here. And if you are one of those Reform voters duped by fascist Farage’s lies, you could do worse than listen up.
“Freeborn John” carries more of that reggae lilt, but there is no mistaking the steel in it, and “Gallows Justice” proves not many folk songs can start a moshpit like this lot can. By the time “Mairi’s Wedding, Pt. 2” is throwing in snippets of AC/DC, ZZ Top, a-ha and Blink-182, the place is absolutely flying.
Look around the room and it tells its own story. There are Levellers shirts, punk shirts, metal shirts, all sorts. Ferocious Dog have always seemed to bark for the waifs and strays, the people who do not quite fit anywhere else, and that may be their greatest strength of all.
They are back in the autumn for one last go, as Bonsall is hanging the mic up after 33 years, and Red Ken is promising “banger after banger” even with the setlist for that final tour chosen by the band. To be fair, they did not do badly here. Even if the retirement kennel is a little closer now, Ferocious Dog still sound like a band with fight, fire and purpose running through every note.
