TP live photo courtesy of Shane Thomas * Tom toured the UK in November 2006. Watch this space for reviews! UK TOUR 2003 Folk at the Grove, Grove Inn, Leeds: 2nd May 2003 Concert reviewed by Al Moir * Odd how, in a big city, one can travel along a perfectly 'respectable' thoroughfare, turn off down a couple of side streets and find oneself in what only a holiday brochure or estate agent might describe as a 'salubrious' area! The Grove Inn, quite literally, lies snuggled in the shadow of the towering Hilton Hotel. The road leading to it is not even wide enough for a Bubble-Car to do a three point turn, and no sooner had my friends and I managed to park on this narrow strip than we were accosted by one of a number of nubile, young 'working girls'. But, that is just the environment. The Grove Inn itself is no different to countless local pubs up and down the country... * Judging by the various posters and notices on the wall, the concert room is a haunt for one of the many folk clubs in the city. The stage is virtually non-existent, and the p.a. system consisted of two small speakers and a modest little amp. Generally, followers of traditional Folk music tend not to stand on ceremony so Pacheco's sound check lasted slightly under a minute and he was all set to go. Looking around the crowded room he smiled wryly, commenting that this was the smallest venue he had ever played. He recalled a time and place, long ago and far away when, as a very young man, he and a group of friends had to play in an abandoned boxcar. He said this small room took him back to that time - and he was right. This little club was little bigger than a converted boxcar, but it was filled, the acoustics were excellent, and both artist and audience were more than happy... * Time and again during his two sets Tom Pacheco ranged freely through his vast repertoire, recounting stories of bruised and broken souls who had fallen by the wayside, including the poignant 'Shadow Of A Seagull' which he wrote for his own sister when she was lost in the shadows. Then there was the ironic 'Just A Little Bullet', the harrowing tale of 'China Blue', a racehorse which, once it fell from grace, was doomed. The pent up anger at the greed of corrupt corporate concerns who greased the palms of politicians but cared nothing for those who had made them what they were was expressed most forcefully in 'What About Us', and the deep sadness at the passing of an era was vividly recalled in 'There Was A Time', a song which earned him the longest, loudest applause of the evening... * There were times when Pacheco seemed to be venting his spleen on his guitar as he thrashed it violently, but then, there were other times when he would caress the strings lovingly, as he did when he sang 'St. Christopher In The Cornfield', 'I Was Meant To Pass Through Your Life (I Was Never Meant To Stay)', and a song he had only recently completed, 'That's What Life Is', a generous slice of intelligent, homespun philosophy at which Pacheco excels. Another new and hitherto unrecorded song was the uncompromising 'Not In My Name', a song which could stand shoulder to shoulder with Dylan's 'Masters Of War'... * Tom was friends with the late Rick Danko of 'The Band'. Danko had co-written and recorded a song with Tom, 'You Can Go Home', but tonight Tom sang a song he wrote for Rick, who recorded it only three weeks before his untimely death, 'People Of Conscience', another song which Tom has not recorded himself yet but which is a powerful statement and which, no doubt, will find its way on to some future album... * In all, Pacheco performed for just short of two hours. A number of those present were clearly not familiar with him or his work, but by the end of the night there were few he had failed to impress. They stood and applauded, long and loud, calling for a thoroughly well earned encore, but time had run out, and much as Pacheco was willing to oblige, the licensing hours dictated otherwise. Notwithstanding, this was a memorable night spent in the company of a man who for far too long has tended to be ignored. Tom Pacheco is the embodiment of the spirit of the genuine troubadour and one of the very few people I know who live for and truly believe in their music. Long may he continue to be able to do what he loves so well... The Spitz, London: 28th April 2003 Concert reviewed by Will Hardy * Tom at full blast is like three guitars coming at you at once, together with a heart full of passion and a head full of insight. There were plenty of moments like this, on what proved to be a very special night at the Spitz... * The venue helped. You could eat downstairs (where Tom himself was spotted before he performed), and you went upstairs to a large, but intimate, room to see the concert. Here, groups of chairs surrounded candle-lit tables, placed close to the stage. Time Out magazine had listed the concert wrongly as ‘5 p.m.’ and ‘free’; but there was still an attentive, enthusiastic audience of about thirty to forty... * Things started in a gentle way, as we were coaxed to life by support act Rosie Wilby, who showed a talent for interesting chord progressions, soaring vocals, and reflective lyrics of love and loss. Then – bam! – on came Tom, taking the audience by the scruff of the neck with a fine rendition of ‘One Heart One Soul’... * And so he continued for the rest of the evening, keeping up the same quality throughout. By turns, we were stirred, we were moved, and we laughed, as the mood changed from one song to the next. Tom joked at one point that he was battling with a newly-strung guitar, but it didn’t seem to affect his performance... * The other songs included: ‘Teddy Roosevelt’, ‘There Was a Time’, ‘I Was Meant to Pass Through Your Life (I Wasn’t Meant to Stay)’, ‘China Blue’, ‘Jack’s Luncheonette’, ‘St Christopher and the Cornfield’, ‘Heroes’, ‘Just a Little Bullet’, ‘Not in My Name’, ‘Juan Romero’, ‘Jerry’s Gone’, ‘Birdseye Heaven’, ‘That’s What Life Is’ (a new song for the next album), and ‘Big Muddy River’... * Finally it drew to a close, as all good concerts must, and we walked out into the London night, dreamy with the music, thinking ‘that’s one to remember’. Thanks once again, Tom, for a great evening... UK Tour 2002 The Musician, Leicester: Thursday, 18th April 2002 Concert reviewed by Jane de Gay * It was Tom’s first concert of the tour and there could have been some major teething-troubles that night. Tom came to the gig straight from the airport: 'It's still Wednesday for me,' he warned. To make matters worse, his guitar had suffered an injury in transit and he was gingerly trying to gauge which songs it could manage. But from the strength of his performance, from the vigorous opening bars of 'Jesus in a Leather Jacket', to the gentle and reflective 'Shadow of a Seagull' played as an encore two hours later, no-one would have thought he was battling against any odds whatsoever... * It's true to say that Tom was among friends at this concert – the audience were friends of Tom's and friends of one another. The Musician is a relatively intimate venue, holding maybe 60 people comfortably, and the gig was held under the banner of the Madhatter Acoustic Folk Roots Club. The club is hosted by the inimitable Paul Howe, who cuts a dapper figure in colourful waistcoat and stove-pipe hat, his face framed by an incredible fringe of moustache-free beard. The evening began with half an hour of songs by a young local duo, Table Nine, then Tom did two sets, interspersed with a break for that great tradition of the British folk-club – the raffle – halfway through. The set-list for the evening consisted of a delightful mix of new material and old favourites. Tom sang six songs that he was grooming for his forthcoming album There Was a Time (including ‘Before There Was You’, which did not make the final cut); some unrecorded numbers – a hard-hitting song about Palestinian refugees and, by happy contrast, the hilarious older lost gem, ‘The Last Rolling Stone’; plus many songs we all know and love and could not let him escape without playing, including ‘Angel’, ‘Hippy on the Highway’ and of course, ‘Robert and Ramona’... * About half of the audience were sitting at bar tables clustered around the small stage area, and Tom greeted nearly all of them personally, having remembered them from previous concerts at the venue. The other half of the audience was cut off from sight of the stage area by the curious architecture of the room, either trapped behind a pillar in front of the bar or behind a wall which juts right into the centre of the room. The layout must surely provide temptation for punters to drink and chat in the corners, regardless of what’s happening onstage, but Tom's performance cut right through the barriers, and even those stuck at the back were spellbound and listening appreciatively. Tom's rendition of 'Birdseye Heaven' was a marvel to witness. In case you don't know it, the song is about a man who is in prison over alimony payments but is given the option of taking part in a cryogenic experiment, to be frozen and woken up in the future, by which time his debt would have been cancelled. Everyone listened in breathless anticipation as the story unfolded, laughing heartily when Tom unleashed the sting in the tail: that the character's ex-wife had also been frozen and was about to be brought back to life to trouble him! It was an unfamiliar song to many (it has not been recorded since 1976), but gradually everyone caught on to the chorus and began singing along. The last song but one, ‘What We Left Behind’, which also got us singing, celebrates just what Tom helped us to do that night: getting together and enjoying one another’s company. My guess is that quite a few people who came in for a quick drink at the bar left the venue having made a new friend in Tom Pacheco... Clarence Hotel, Bury: Wednesday 24th April 2002 Concert reviewed by David Kidman * Tom’s another of those exceptionally talented left-field singer-songwriters who seem only to be appreciated by a select band of connoisseurs who are 'in the know'. I really liked what I heard back in '98, bought one of his albums, made a mental note to investigate further, then life overtook (hey, you know how it is!) and the 'must' list got buried … But the news that Tom would be touring the UK this spring, together with the offer of a ride to the gig with the good folks who run Tom’s fanzine – well, this was far too good a chance to pass up, so I primed myself by seeking out some more of the albums and immersing myself (in between the usual folky deadlines)... * I remained impressed by Tom’s songs and singing, and increasingly captivated by his unusual and (let’s face it) pretty individual take on life, but it still wasn’t quite the road to Damascus. But I sure hit that road last night, zero to heavy crusin' in nanoseconds! An unpromising start tho', winging my way through the yawping footy-watchers down in the bar, up to the tiny function room where, resplendent in freshly-laundered Che Guevara T-shirt and sharing the stage with effigies of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe (don’t ask!), Tom was to hold court in front of a suspiciously large crowd (for 'twas a charity gig in aid of Bolton Mountain Rescue), sticking to his guns and winning the 80-strong audience over in spite of some wearisomely insistent shouts for 'Woody Guthrie' from a couple of cretins who'd presumably had their brains left behind when they'd got rescued off the mountains of industrial Lancashire! But Tom only had to strum an opening chord – well, hammer is probably a more accurate description, as his playing technique is strongly individual to say the least, and once you’ve experienced the full force of it live, it's unmistakable and unforgettable... * The rattle of flamenco with the high energy of punk, here cranked up to high 'n' mighty to drown the yatter of the barflies, a choppy, stabbing staccato but with surprisingly delicate fills tossed in, or on the gentler numbers, a simpler, understated fingerstyle though still preserving a strong rhythmic impetus – it shows Tom’s always aware of the shape of the accompaniment he’s using, where it's going structurally and melodically. This unique playing style forms the setting for Tom's equally unique voice – its gruff and gravelly timbre all but hides a compelling control of phrasing and dynamics as he unfolds his distinctive tales of the unloved, unwanted and unexpected. He's a storyteller first and foremost, and like all good storytellers, the rugged passion of his live presence is utterly compelling, really drawing you into his peculiar world, where an environmentally wise take on all things Americana (and Native Americana) meets oddball X-file characters in an pseudo-apocalyptic Philip K. Dick sci-fi setting... * Tom’s songs are often littered with twisted and imaginative parallel-universe fantasy references to cultural icons. Everything is portrayed in wonderfully intense (though user-friendly) turns of phrase. There are times when a potentially useful marker tag like 'satirical crossfire' proves woefully inadequate (songs like 'Teddy Roosevelt'), but in among the cheekily barbed commentary there lurks a very deep, very human concern, and just as often Tom steals the ground from under your feet with a heart-rendingly tender spoken piece like 'Angel' that just oozes compassion from every orifice. Tom's set – a stupendous 90 minutes – drew material from way back in the past (1976 – The Outsider’s 'Birdseye Heaven') and on into the future (the stunning, as yet unrecorded 'Last Rolling Stone'), via no less than four excellent new songs taken from his eagerly-awaited new album, due this autumn... * Honorary mention too for the local support man, Stuart Warburton (organiser of the gig), who proved himself a perfect foil for Tom, presenting a selection of self-penned numbers displaying a quirky humour, constructed with a canny intelligence that belies their often deceptively throwaway nature. A darned fine gig all told... Fibbers, York: Thursday 25th April 2002 Concert reviewed by Al Moir * Fibbers should have been packed to the rafters and they should have been turning folk away in droves, but it wasn't – and they weren't. This sorry state of affairs is totally divorced from the ability of Tom Pacheco to immediately grab the attention of an audience and hold it, spellbound, for the duration of his performance. It has nothing to do with his incredible talent as a poet who is able to paint the most vivid pictures of a vast gallery of characters, many from life's other side, or his God-given gift of expressing those emotions which are universal, yet which many lesser mortals feel but are incapable of expressing. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the integrity of the man. Unhappily, the blame for the disappointing turnout can be directly attributed to two factors: poor advertising and an almost criminal lack of airplay. Tom Pacheco, one of the most gifted of singer/songwriters around today is still too much of a closely guarded secret. Unlike many with infinitely less talent, Pacheco is a quiet, unassuming, benign character, not given to blowing his own trumpet, so, until those in a position to blow it for him start to do so, it would seem that his light will continue to be hidden under a bushel... * Now, lest it be thought that apart from this reviewer (a great admirer of Pacheco's work), Fibbers was empty, let me set the record straight. There was a respectable crowd, but 'respectable' is less than Pacheco deserves. However, if there was the faintest hint of disappointment, it came from those present rather than from the artist himself (and by that I mean a disappointment on the part of those present that many others were going to be denied an evening which would live in memory for a long time to come). Tom himself never once expressed the slightest disillusionment. Rather, he was fulsome in his praise for those who had turned out to see him, and from opening to closing note, he played and sang as though this was a capacity crowd at The Royal Albert Hall; but then, that is the Pacheco way, and he has told me before that he would rather play for just one person who was listening to his music than a thousand for whom it meant nothing but a background sound. Tonight he had a lot more than one who had come to listen... * Opening with 'Jesus In A Leather Jacket', Tom was instantly into his stride. Time and again, eyes closed, face contorted, he attacked his guitar so ferociously it's a wonder the strings did not all give up the ghost simultaneously! The sweat poured from him as he agonised over the lyrics, feeling the pain of the protagonists of many of his songs. The almost sardonic bitterness, counterbalanced with the indomitable pride of the characters in 'Teddy Roosevelt' and 'What About Us?' could hardly have been lost on any audience. The wistfulness inherent in numbers like 'There Was A Time', (the title track of his forthcoming album), 'I Was Meant To Pass Through Your Life (I Wasn't Meant To Stay)', and 'Shadow Of A Seagull', where he lovingly caressed the guitar strings as he lost himself in his music, hit home forcefully, and the underlying sadness in songs like 'Angel' and 'Minnesota Blue' displayed his deep compassion for not just his fellow man, but for all creatures helplessly trapped in life's web... * If Tom expressed any disappointment at all, it was in the fact that he did not come on stage until 9:45pm and was compelled by the management to take a break part-way through to allow the patrons to replenish their glasses, as very few ventured to the bar while Tom was performing. Reluctantly, he broke for just five minutes, before returning, but after just seven songs in the second half, he was rather rudely informed that the show had to end. He did, however, manage an encore with 'Just A Little Bullet', but was clearly unhappy, not for himself but for his audience, that he had been allowed such a comparatively short set. But the audience understood, and seventy-five minutes of intense passion which drained them as well as the performer, was infinitely better than two hours of wallpaper music from some lesser talent... * Tom Pacheco is in a class of his own as a writer, performer and indeed, a man. He has a solid bedrock of admirers who understand and appreciate his music. One can only hope that his immense talent will be recognised by those in a position to bring him to a wider audience. It is the least he deserves... Tom Pacheco, Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! A View of Tom’s Supporters by Wayne Stote * Support acts, huh? Half an hour of noise you can barely discern through the wall, while you prop up the bar, waiting for the person you paid to see, to come on. Invariably, it’s some smart-arsed tosser, with 2½ chords, a bucketful of juvenile poetry and an attitude you could brain a grizzly bear with. Right? Wrong! * Tom himself plays the odd support gig – see the news section elsewhere in this issue – and the quality of support that Tom received during his most recent tour of Britain was very impressive indeed... * At Leicester, his support, a duo called Table 9, came closest to the horrid stereotype detailed above, in that they were young and wrote reasonable wordy songs – but their melodies were sweet, their guitars rang with passion and their harmonies hit the spot. With a bit of luck and some perseverance, they could cause a ripple or two... * At Hartlepool, Lee Madison, looking like an errant Mitchell brother**, played strong guitar and had a voice to match. Covers of Richard Thompson, Roy Harper and Soft Cell (via David Gray?) went down well, while my personal favourites were Lindisfarne’s ‘Lady Eleanor’ and James Taylor’s ‘Sweet Baby James’. Don’t get the idea that he’s some kind of karaoke king though. He made those songs his own. Apparently, he’s also a classy songwriter. He treated us to just one original – the excellent ‘Where Eagles Fly’. If he’s got any more like that up his sleeve, he’ll soon be dropping the covers... * Stuart Warburton is a friend of The Outsider, but it’s not just nepotism that bids me report that he was the pick of the supports on this tour. He plays in a raucous rock and roll band, The Rhythmaires, but solo, with just a guitar and an enthusiastic audience for company, he was excellent. Songs like ‘Over the Limit’, ‘Murder Ballad’ and the hilarious ‘Has Anyone Seen My Bin?’ showcase his talent, and the final song, ‘Someone Up There Doesn’t Like Me’ contains some of the most audaciously wry lyrics I’ve heard in a long time. Imagine if Loudon Wainwright came from Lancashire and you have some idea of where Stuart Warburton is coming from... * So next time you go to a concert, arrive early and catch the support act. You might just unearth a gem... ** For our international readers, the Mitchells are a family of close-cropped hardmen in the soap Eastenders...