My dad had gone down the pub with his girlfriend, leaving me, my sister, and my brother rattling around the house like loose marbles. We were “home alone,” though we didn’t call it that back in 1975 – It was just Friday night, and the telly was mine.
The living room felt bigger without grown‑ups in it. The curtains were drawn, the coal fire had a life of its own, and my siblings were playing upstairs. I was trying to find something funny to watch. I didnt have too much fun in my life as an 8 year old, so grabbed reasons to smile as often as i could. I pressed the channel selection on the front of the television as hard as I could manage, and after a deafening click BBC2 flickered to life. Suddenly there was a guy called Bob Harris, whispering like he was telling us a secret. He introduced Dr. Feelgood, who tore through Keep It Out of Sight, Roxette, and She Does It Right – Stripped back without the sequins and polish of glam rock and top of the pops. For an eight‑year‑old, it was like discovering a secret superpower. That night in 1975, music stopped being something adults handed down and it became something us kids could grab for ourselves.
Last night, November 29th 2025, I found myself standing in Band on the Wall, Manchester, watching Dr. Feelgood once again. Of course, the band I saw wasn’t the same one from 1975 – Wilko Johnson’s jerky guitar style and Lee Brilleaux’s sweat‑drenched vocals belong to history now, but the connection remained intact.
It was a living bridge between the raw electricity of 1975 and the rhythm & blues fire that still burns today. The current line‑up, part of the A Shot of Rhythm & Blues tour, shared the bill with Nine Below Zero. Tonight was Dr Feelgood’s night to open on this co-headlining tou. Together, they delivered a night steeped in rhythm & blues tradition, reminding us that while faces change, the spirit of the music endures. Band on the Wall’s intimate setting made the show feel communal, echoing the living‑room intensity of that childhood memory. Classics like Milk & Alcohol, Down at the Doctors, and Roxette still punched through with raw immediacy. The crowd roared at See You Later Alligator, proving that the band’s pub rock grit still translates across generations. The musicians may be different, but the delivery was faithful – Tight rhythms, snarling vocals, and a refusal to polish away the grit. Watching Dr. Feelgood in 2025 wasn’t about comparing line‑ups – It was about recognising continuity. The band has weathered fifty years of changes, but the DNA of Canvey Island rhythm & blues is still there, and for me, the gig was a collision of past and present:
– 1975: Me, on a sofa, discovering music’s power through a flickering black and white TV.
– 2025: A packed Manchester venue, rediscovering that same power in sweat, sound, and shared energy.
The connection for me was emotional, not just musical. It’s about how music stitches itself into memory, how a band can be both different and the same, and how a gig can feel like both a reunion and a revelation.
Seeing Dr. Feelgood wasn’t just a concert – It was a reminder that music is a living thread. Fifty years on, the band may have changed, but the feeling hasn’t. The energy hasn’t, and the passion hasn’t. The grit, the pulse, the communal electricity – It’s all still there, and for me, standing in that Manchester crowd, it was like being eight years old again, only this time the living room had grown into a venue, and the secret superpower was shared with hundreds of others.
If Dr. Feelgood lit the fuse, Nine Below Zero detonated it. Taking the headline slot on this co‑headline tour, the London rhythm & blues stalwarts proved why they remain one of Britain’s most enduring live acts. Dennis Greaves’ guitar work was razor‑sharp, while Mark Feltham’s harmonica sliced through the mix with feral intensity. The chemistry between them – Decades in the making – Was palpable. Unlike nostalgia acts that coast on memory, Nine Below Zero attacked every song with youthful urgency. The set felt like a celebration of rhythm & blues as living, breathing music, not as a museum relic.
Their headline slot wasn’t just about seniority – It was about stamina, craft, and connection. Both sets reminded us that rhythm & blues thrives in the live moment, where grit and groove collide. Dr. Feelgood sparked the nostalgia, but Nine Below Zero carried it forward, proving that fifty years on, the spirit of British R&B is still loud, proud, and gloriously alive.
Words and Photos by Gregg Howarth
