Why is it I’ve never seen The Wildhearts before?, I think to myself as I’m driving across the M56 heading for Chester. For a band of some 30 year standing and myself, a rock fan of some 40 years, I have to say that I’m slightly perplexed at the fact that our paths haven’t yet crossed before. Perhaps it’s because I’m lazy in my musical choices at times, or maybe that when the Geordie superstars first burst onto the scene I was still shaking my poodle mullet to the likes of Whitesnake and Kiss, with my heavier musical tastes grinding right to a halt no heavier than Judas Priest or Motorhead. Either way, tonight we’re putting it right and leaping at the opportunity to review one of the hardest working class, self- imploded bands that have ever graced the UK’s music scene, and who are currently busy on part 2 of their tour supporting their first album in 10 years, “Renaissance Men”. As well as re-education on what I've been missing out on, I’m also hoping that they will rip me a new one in the process by ways of a suitable punishment.

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