Magic Ship

Review: This 4-piece band from Twickenham has Colin Gillman (vocals and guitar), Sam Day (guitar and vocals), Adam Donovan (bass guitar), and Dave Lombardi (drums and percussion). They play classic rock with a twist of Americana, but performed with an English accent. The band name comes from the title of a song by 60s band Free. Starting out as just a few guys having fun playing at the rehearsal studios on a Monday night (instead of going down the pub), its now become a lot more serious. They have recently released their debut album "LoveTel Motel" on the Stone Island Record label and available at gigs.
Photos: See pictures of this BandaaaaaaaaaaaaaSee them play : ITube

Venues: Half Moon, Putney : White Hart, Barnes

Website: or

Feedback: If you have seen this Band, please let me know, by adding a comment.

1 comment:

  1. There's a hint of "The Faces" and a dash of "Mott The Hoople" in their music. Also a light dusting of "The Allman Brothers" and a sniff of "Lynyrd Skynyrd". They're not out-and-out dad rockers, mind. There are also plenty of pop tunes in there and even some of them that the younger audience may recognise from the 21st Century. Yet for every melodic guitar hook and catchy chorus, you can be sure there is something gritty, raunchy, and perhaps even dirty lurking right around the corner. It has to be said that most of the people staying at the "LoveTel Motel" would sign the register as Mr & Mrs Smith.
    The Album opens with the frantic neck-jerker that is "Fly!" and, before you know it, careers headlong into "Headaches and Heartaches", a swing-along on the road saga. The title track is an equally breathless frug, but the dark, twisted, half-whispered "Lucky Lost" and the whimsical "Black Holes Don't Eat Everything" bring a marked drop in pace.
    Here and there, in the finest Bo Diddley fashion, there are several autobiographical references to Magic Ship, a couple of them in the acoustic "Lifeboats for the Dead", which sees the band in a more obviously reflective mood than elsewhere. The epic "Monkeyphonic Alphabets" is meanwhile the sort of song that David Crosby might have written if he'd spent 1973 as a 13-year-old haring around the streets of West London on a Raleigh Chopper with a big Sherbet Fountain in his hand (and nothing stronger), instead of sitting between Stills and Nash trying to stop the fights.
    Perhaps this group will soon be busy on Tuesday nights too.