Ash Play 1977 In Its Entirety, Or How I Was 15 Again For Two Hours.

Okay, perhaps they are not a Roulees type of act. And I would have probably let it go by without writing about it, but since Mof has seen fit to comment on Britpop, it gives me good reason to review Ash at The Astoria. As was suggested, Britpop though on the whole rightly maligned, can often be close to the amazing zeitgeist of the mid nineties it seemed to be.

In my mid teens, I needed something to elevate the problems of youth, which at the time seemed like many. Though to anyone looking back, the realisation that it was all pretty easy, if all these dilemmas amounted to was poor complexions and the fact girls didn't like you. And the music, much of it, yes is dated and embarrassing, to the point many might require an amnesty for certain questionable purchases.

And of this period, Ash's debut album 1977 despite being celebrated by the two concerts they played last weekend - Friday at the Roundhouse, Saturday's Astoria show - and the many gems it contains, is one of those album's that for some would be overlooked. Never Britpop big guns in the same way as Oasis or Blur, and without the lyrically intellect of Pulp, or scuzzy druggy lifestyle of Elastica or Suede, in some respects you can see why.

The Gallaghers, despite the quality of their music, still fill column inches. Albarn, the maverick, having given up on fame for various musical journeys from from Africa to China, and several places in between, still pricks my interest on occasion. While Jarvis Cocker, is the nearest thing we have to a national treasure from the genre. So, where does that leave Ash?

Well, truth is, musically they haven't been interesting to me for years. Though their last album Twilight Of The Innocents is hell of a lot more engaging in places than their attempts as being a big rock band. It is the Ash of 1995/96, while a few years older than me, who seemed to be covering a lot of the same things I was struggling with.

Girls, generally growing up. Yadda, yadda, yadda. That's probably why 1977 worked, and still does. That album was just a fun, of the moment classic. And looking back it has a surprising maturity in places for ones so young. Okay, they haven't matched it. They also have similar problems as other Britpop acts, of where to go next and releasing material lacking the same impact once that genre died away.

But Saturday was another matter. The whole of 1977, played straight through. No messing. For around fifty minutes I was treated to a collection of songs, that mattered then and in the moment did again. When all you want to do is jump around with youthful abandonment, 'Girl From Mars', 'Kung Fu' et al, do just that. I wasn't the only one to relive their youth, since my friend Kat was happily pogoing away. Or as witnessed, the amount of late twenties/early thirties guys determined to show they can still match the youths of today. Moshing out, sweat dripping down them, even if that meant taking their tops off to reveal their man boobs.

Well, if anything it showed, while these guys lifestyles may have changed, somewhere inside of most is that teen waiting to escape upon hearing a three minute pop song. 1977 was/is perfect in that respect. While there have been several acts willing to revive their 'classic' albums - which I hope Supergrass might take note do with I Should Coco - we must hope for the love of God Shed Seven ignore the temptation to do the same with A Maximum High.

Simon J Hill