Okay, I admit it, I watch ‘Blind Date’ every week and standing in the rapidly filling Flying Picket on Friday night was like waiting for the famous screen to roll back. Even the Liverpool connection was there, how Cilla would love Kevin’s ‘urdu’ and Andy Frizzell’s knees, fetchingly exposed for the night beneath what must surely have been a pair of Baden-Powell’s first edition shorts. Contestant number one....Kevin Ayers! Meeting......The Wizards of Twiddly! Hugs and kisses to immense crowd approval............ breath held for the prize draw.......... would it be endless sunshine in Bright Future Land or the wet weekend in Scunthorpe visiting the pickled onion factory?

In truth the outcome of the night was never going to be like that. The seeds of a successful and fascinating partnership had already been sown on stage at the Powerhaus in October and consumated during a week’s hard rehearsal prior to this warmup gig. I knew from chatting to the band beforehand that they were pleased with how the week had gone Their fervent passion for Kevin and his music was still evident and I knew from longstanding that their standards of self-analysis reflect the highest degree of professionalism.

Kevin chatted aimiably in the bar downstairs to express the same satisfaction about the rehearsals, if a little apprehensive about the Picket’s sound system. Lovely place though, with a mixture of aimiable locals intermingling with the Wizards’ home crowd and the Ayers ‘imports’. Served a beer called Christmas Pudding too and I started to like Liverpool in a big way.

The gig was in the kind of upstairs room we’ve all seen before, hands rubber-stamped on entry, drinks passed through a kind of bar-cum-catflap. About 45 minutes or so from the Twids and the joint was jumping. I know it’s a cliche but their music isn’t just infectious but positively bubonic - euphoric joy is instantaneous. They seemed to force their way through an indifferent sound system with classics like ‘Eye Of The Potato’, ‘Large Geographical Features’ and ‘Man Made Self’ sounding better than ever. Bands like this are tomorrow’s legends today and reviewers can only urge so many times to go and see them now. I’ve yet to see a Wizards gig that hasn’t left me grinning inanely with admiration at the end of it.

Element of nervousness inevitable on such an occasion as this....one’s faith in Kevin as the ultimate purveyor of magic always has to be tempered by the variables of equipment, mood and atmosphere...... However much one urges success, there has to exist a penumbra between the heights of Mount Olympus and the depths of Hades. A momentary intake of breath as Kevin said ‘I’m not going to play unless you’re quiet’.........but then smiled wryly and continued. Tonight the gods had bought tickets, a solo acoustic ‘Champagne and Valium’ just gave the Wizards pause for breath before joining Kevin back on stage for ‘May I’. Good to hear that celestial bass line back again and Martin Smith taking the solo on Flugel horn ( apologies for a rapid confession of utter ignorance on brass identification at this point - I can spot a trumpet, flute and trombone on a good night but was obviously having my brace checked at the orthodontist’s when Form 4B studied the rest ). ‘See You Later’ saw the faces relax a little more before a blistering ‘Didn’t Feel Lonely’. Carl Bowry’s guitar work on that night will stand the test of time in my memory for ever - even without the benefit of hindsight it was supreme, magnificent, inspirational. His solo on the next ‘Everybody’s Sometime Blues’ wept aural tears that made me shiver as they chilled the air. Watch Kevin’s face for the signs, the wry approval of satisfaction before the inevitable request to dim the lights. ‘Beware of the Dog’ surprised me with its freshness - it’s not part of the back catalogue I ever expected to hear for some reason. ‘When Your Parents Go to Sleep’ had tightened up since the Powerhaus - Simon and Martin’s brass powering through the dancers who thronged the front of the room.

Funny the thoughts that pass through your mind at gigs like this........I made a mental note that there were people dancing which was something that hadn’t been happening at the acoustic gigs where the crowd were more into respectful listening, and then of course, before that, Ayers UK gigs had tended to be seated concert hall affairs. Perhaps that was what made me turn the clock back so many years and experience again what the combination of Ayers and the Wizards were achieving on the stage in front of me - not a 50 year old cult figure backed by a group of sessionists half his age but a living, breathing band of equal parts. You see with sudden clarity that this is a scenario that oozes creativity and promise, maybe the same chemistry you imagine that witnessed the birth of the Soft Machine?

Kevin’s microphone was fading badly during ‘Lady Rachel’ and frustration on his face was very evident as the subtle interplay with Simon’s flute became lost. The sound did improve through the later’Mr Cool’ and ‘Am I Really Marcel’ and ‘Super Salesman’ was its usual funky self A lot of the rehearsal time during the previous week had clearly been spent on brass arrangements for songs where previously it had not been used. It is a tribute to all concerned that never once did the brass fail to embellish a song nor ever did it threaten to swamp the fragility that underlines Kevin’s music. The promise that this multi-instrumented lineup holds is one of infinite variety and I’d still like to see an acoustic section, perhaps for some ‘Still Life’ material included midway through future sets. ‘Why Are We Sleeping’ was glorious - this isn’t a song for me anymore but a work of Art that hangs in a gallery next to my heart. Acid test territory and it passed.

Time only for one encore in ‘Stranger In Blue Suede Shoes’ - everyone knows that solo and holds their breath that the band will thunder back in together at the right instant. Tonight....... of course they did! Congratulations all round - everyone knew that the momentary disappointment with the sound quality had been surpassed many times over by the energy, magic and promise that the set had engendered.

Outside, the streets of small hours Liverpool teemed with life, the air pungent with the sounds of festive dancefloors in myriad clubs. The motorway back to Manchester was a deserted river of dreams. But what dreams that night had left us with!

(MW)