retiredmartin

September 2023. Manchester.

The students are just about to return to Uni, bands will be releasing their “difficult” third albums and touring it round social clubs in University cities though the Fall. I’m still not sure when the Fall starts.

Just a day after the five hour drive back from End of the Road (EOTR), an unmissable gig from Gia Margaret from Chicago (wherever that is) drew us into the heart of Metropolitan Manchester.

EOTR had a bill heavy with Aussies, Africans, Americans, and even Canadians, some of whom stay on after the festivals to do club gigs in (typically) Edinburgh, Manchester and London. Gia*, in contrast, has just tentatively returned to singing after a nightmare 4 years of voice loss and Covid.

We turn up an hour early, and Mrs RM decides she’s walking no further than Sandbar.

Which is nice, because I was of exactly the same opinion.

Sandbar is that modern bar opposite the Uni that seems a teeny bit less modern than it did on opening, and flits in and out of the GBG these days.

But the flagstone floors still appeal,

and there’s still a decent cask selection round the corner from the keg board.

In the spirit of “live and let live” I get a pint of the Blackjack Stout on cask and keg so we can definitively decide which is best, and ask Mrs RM which one she prefers.

“Oooh, this one (the cask) has much more flavour” she says.

That’s the wrong answer, the keg is better, but it means I get to keep that one so win/win.

Sandbar is one of the original pizza pubs, and still the best, though I may be unduly influenced by the frankly sensational smell from the oven and the joy of the little buzzer that goes off when your pizza is ready.

The soundtrack is ancient (The Doors, Ben E King, Fairport), but the gig posters are modern. I’m back here for one of these gigs in November.

One of the most unfussy food pubs in Manchester, attracting all sorts.

“I want the most nondescript lager you have, nothing weird or gritty” says a lady who looks anything but nondescript. “Is this a funky one ?” asks someone else. These were genuine requests, folks.

“What’s your regular lager lager beer” requests a young chap, emphasising the double “lager”.

None of those folk were among the hundred seated to watch Gia Margaret, whose return from the wilderness was greeted with some reverence, and some degree of patience. Mrs RM thought her magical.

A mostly instrumental set, some of which sounded like this;

*Excellent photo – Joe Vitale, who obviously sat in the row in front of us.