Daily photos no. 79: in the mosh pit with the Nightingales

I vaguely remember hearing critics' favourites The Nightingales and/or their predecessors The Prefects on John Peel's show in the 1990s, and liking their rough, caustic commentary on contemporary life. Like a punk Half Man Half Biscuit, I'm sure they wouldn't like me to say. Years later, I found myself sharing an office with their suave and talented guitarist, Alan Apperley and ended up going to more Gales gigs than any other band. Some were brilliant, some were awful, as to be expected for a band with a regular habit of producing ever-better music and then sabotaging their careers – coronavirus has put paid at least temporarily to Stewart Lee's film about Robert Lloyd the lead singer: merely the latest entry to a catalogue of stumbling blocks on the road to the Hall of Fame.



'Gales gigs are amazing though. They're not a heritage band - they've consistently produced new and better albums since they reformed, with an evolving sound. The crowds (ahem) are interesting - there's a core of devoted fans who follow them everywhere, then a group of post-punk fans, and always a floating pool of ex-members, of which there are many. It's multi-generational too - they've been going long enough to have fans ranging from their 60s to their 20s (not many kids have arrived yet though).

This gig was in 2013.

Ted Chippington, the anti-comedian!