Rankin Steady - Cleethorpes Beachcomber 2nd July 2011

Note: I haven’t written anything for magazines lately, tending to do a lot of writing, then cursing because I've taken something on I haven't really time to do justice to. In those instances it's my own music that suffers - in preference to handing a magazine editor something I've cobbled together in ten minutes - and so my journalistic moonlighting antics are on hold. I do love to write though, as most know already.

Having said all of that, myself, Jared (Jez) Bird and Felicity (Fliss) Taylor, travelled a round trip of over 160 miles to see a band last Saturday. With that level of commitment I thought I’d sharpen my pencil and jot down the highlights of the evening - as I saw it. It was duly noted by Jez, Fliss, Max and Les, that I'd been taking it easy on the alcohol and Homeopathic recreational cigarettes all day - wanting to be clear headed for the gig. I'm glad I did stay sober enough to soak up the atmosphere, as it really was an amazing, shared experience. A very great number of people were thoroughly enthralled by the guys and I'm glad to have been there to see a band who has spent a long while, at the top of their game. But I'm getting ahead of myself in the preface, so without further ado, I give you Rankin Steady.
Steve Gad. July 3rd 2011.

After a day of walking around the sea front, drinking and anticipating the evening, we began the long walk back to the Beachcomber. Outside the venue a massive guitar neck and headstock towers above the entrance and people literally pour in through the door, sweeping us along with the flow of bodies.
The sound of Ska pounded throughout the large, well packed venue, as the supporting DJ had thousands of pairs of Doc Martens hammering the floor to the beat. Skins, Suedeheads, Mods and the disciples of all things cool, filled the venue to bursting point.  Shaven heads, Polo tops and the Lambretta and Mod target logo’s were everywhere you looked. There had been a large scooter rally on a field a couple of miles away, earlier in the day, but by 11pm only one thought prevailed throughout the venue. Live music = Rankin Steady.
Skinhead girls, resplendent in Harrington's, DM’s, Monkey boots and braces, nodded their feather-cuts to the music. Even all these years later, I still love to see the girls in Skins gear. 
We’d arrived earlier in the day, at 2pm, myself, Jez and partner Fliss, to be joined an hour or so later by friends Max and Les. After a belly busting carvery at the 'Trawlerman' we spent the day drinking and messing around in the arcades (£70 later we’d amassed a grand total of a rubber boiled egg each and a plastic skeleton, between us!!!)  I held back on the drink a bit, as I wanted to be able to enjoy the set and remember it. I'm not a big drinker anyway, and besides, I know Rankin would ensure there’d be plenty of time for serious drinking afterwards.

Meanwhile in the venue, there was a steady pall of steam rising from a well warmed-up crowd, as expectant faces turned toward the stage in anticipation of what was to come. They knew why they were there and they knew what they were getting. Most of the crowd had - like us - travelled many miles to be here, and the atmosphere in the venue crackled with expectation. A few minutes later, with the tension built up, like a pressure cooker full of dynamite, the heady atmosphere was ignited by drummer, Scott Walters, strutting onstage, shirtless in bright red braces, Sta-Prest pants and gleaming Ox blood DM’s, arms aloft like a victorious prize fighter, prompting a mass of arms to immediately fly aloft in response to his call to arms. This is no ordinary gig my friends, this is RANKIN STEADY!!

As the band took to the stage, they knew the night was already theirs. The reception they got on appearing, bounced around the walls and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and stay on end. From the opening salvo of “Feelin Shitty” right through to a brilliantly played “Israelites” Rankin reaffirmed, to anyone who’d ever harboured any doubts at all, that this band have been consistently great live, for a very long time. There are very few acts who have stood the test of time, AND remained true to their own identity, but Rankin are as uncompromising in approach to their craft as they have been in managing to navigate the choppy waters of musical fads, here today-gone tomorrow genres and calls to include the more lightweight, quasi-comedic tracks of their near neighbours (“Lip up Fatty” anyone?) into their set. They remain with heads held high and held several feet above the nearest competition.

Longevity is uncommon in the arts and even yours truly broke off to do DJ jobs to pay the rent - despite saying I'd never commit such a crime - so it is more than fair to say Rankin Steady are not only our region’s best live band, they’re actually one of the best acts in the country, as far as this writer - and several thousand, sweat-soaked and well satisfied fans - are concerned. I’d put Rankin up against any other act right now, and I’d be prepared to put my shirt on that bet and - based on tonight’s show -I feel sure they'd sweep any competition aside, with the ease with which you’d swat away an annoying house fly.

 The Beachcomber is a pretty large venue and the sound of whistling and clapping resonated around the walls, as Scott and Bassist “Villa” fused together to provide a rhythm section that thundered along with purpose and precision. I know only too well that having a good bass player and drummer is key to having a good sound - a solid foundation - and Villa’s decades of experience provided the lightening to Scott’s thunder, right  from the opening bars at the top of the set.
Guitarist “Nip” delivered all of the familiar licks, making the tracks instantly recognisable - and in a lengthy chat with him afterwards, I wasn’t at all surprised to discover he not only knew most of the bands I’ve played with, but knew the tracks intimately too. It really was a pleasure to be able to converse with a fellow guitarist, in my language, and on my favourite topic. As I say, I wasn’t at all surprised at his musical knowledge, after I’d just heard a lifetime of devotion to his art, delivered with such professionalism.

Shaun (Vocals/Keyboards) and “Damo” (Vocals/percussion) put the icing on this amazing cake, with very busy performances, never letting up for a second and them being right at the front, projected an atmosphere that was so infectious, there wasn’t a soul in the venue who wasn’t either dancing, stomping their feet, or nodding furiously to every number. Most of the covers of well known tracks, were done in their own style, doffing their hats in reverence to the originals, yet with the self confidence to imprint their own style onto the tracks and on songs like “The Israelites” they actually manage to make the number their very own, while maintaining the familiarity of the original - not an easy trick to pull off, but Rankin are one of those bands that do this, with an apparent ease that belies the hard work that goes on behind the scenes.

The trio of girls who comprise the backing vacals and horn section, were not only great to listen to, but striking in the visuals too. If you’ve seen the pictures that accompany this piece, you’ll see exactly what I mean. Sax player Laura worked every inch of her part of the stage, moving between her Sax mic and Damo’s vocal mic, her stage presence caught my attention (and that of a few thousand other guys) as she bobbed and weaved at the front of the stage, directing the crowd’s vocal input and inciting much whistling, shouting and cat-calling. If Scott and Villa are the base of the cake and Damo, Nip and Shaun the icing, then these girls are surely the gleaming cherry at the top. The mark of a great live band is in the ability to make what is, in reality, a very difficult thing to do, look as though they were born doing it. On top of that, every member of the band had looks on their faces like they’d won the lotto. The fact that the band were obviously enjoying it very much, despite having done thousands of shows before tonight, was picked up on by the crowd (audiences DO sense the mood of a band) and returned tenfold back to the stage. The overriding feeling in the room was one of sheer pleasure as I made my way through a seemingly endless sea of sweat-soaked happy faces, on my way out of the venue. If that isn’t testomony to a great gig, I don’t know what is!  At one stage, earlier in the set,  I’d put my hand on a wall to steady myself as I stood on a chair to get pictures, and the wall was running with condensation. It could have easily been Liverpool’s Cavern Club in the early 60’s, except you’d have fitted the Cavern into the Beachcomber several times over.
Remember also, that the people packed into the Beachcomber weren't tourists who'd wandered in off the street, or people staying at the resort. Every single person in that crowd were there for a very specific reason, with that reason being the Rankin gig. In fact I didn't see anyone all night that could have been taken for a curious holidaymaker, they'd have stood out a mile amid the Skins and Mod finery on display. I was conscious of being the only person there, with what would pass for long hair - in comparison to the ocean of shaven heads inside the venue. These were Rankin's own disciples, an army of the dedicated, but with a singular mind. My clothes were soaked and I'd only been taking pictures!!

As I relaxed at the bands after-show party, listening to some quality Reggae and swigging from one of several bottles of Brandy being passed around (among a wide selection of other recreational beverages of course) I basked in the sheer enjoyment of seeing the band looking as triumphant as they had every right to feel. As a very famous Roman general once said, over 2,000 years ago, “I came, I saw and I conquered”. This was one of those nights when that saying applied just as readily to Rankin Steady, as it did to Julius Caesar. They utterly conquered Cleethorpes, hearts, minds and most definately dancing feet. Sometime after 4am, as band and entourage began to drift off to bed, our crew also drifted into a sleep and as I felt myself sinking into the abyss, two things stuck in my mind. One had been said to me right after the show, by guitarist Nipster, praising the girls and their stage presence. “Without those girls playing horn section and looking so great, we’d be just another guitar band!”  Of course, it's more complex than that, but good point well made.


The second thing that stuck was Scott, standing - still shirtless - holding court at the after-show shindig and announcing to no one in particular, “Aren’t we just the greatest fucking band in the world!” No answer was expected. No answer was necessary. As I fell asleep I remember thinking, ‘you know what Scott, you may well be right. You may very well be right’. After a night like this, I wouldn’t want to argue on it and several thousand others, also drifting into the land of nod at that same time, would also be inclined to agree with him.


A lovely day at the coast, trawling the local pubs with good friends, topped by a fantastic band is my idea of a journey well worth making and I’d urge anyone who hasn’t already Rankin Steady, or hasn't seen them in a while to do so. This isn't a band who do resting on laurels, they continue to evolve and where most bands have a peak, then head down the other slope, Rankin are more akin to a table-top mountain, where their peak is not only large and flat, but a complete continent all of its own.
Were it not for my being in the same business and our show times colliding, a good deal of my leisure time would be spent in the company of these lovely people. You'd be hard pressed to find a nicer group of folk - onstage and off - and in the shark infested cesspool that passes for the entertainment in the 21st century Rankin Steady are a tropical isle that welcomes all comers with open arms. They really are that special. 
Gad. July 3rd 2011.