Into Live Music Review: The Countess of Fife
On a Saturday night in May, in the third decade of the twenty-first century, Fay Fife was still very much a Rezillo — all quick wit, punk spirit and theatrical instinct — but this time she appeared as something else too: a Countess. Wise, funny, romantic, road-worn and utterly commanding.
This Glasgow gig was part of a mini-tour launching their new album ‘New Phone New Car New Man’, and if album launches are supposed to reveal the heart of a record live, then this one succeeded magnificently. These songs already feel lived in. Not polished into lifeless perfection, but alive, loose and deeply human.
And what a band Fife has assembled around her.
Willy Molleson on drums brought power and subtlety in equal measure, Al Gare’s double bass gave the songs warmth and late-night swing, while ‘Clan Chief’ Brian McFie switched effortlessly between razor-sharp country twang and full-blooded rock’n’roll skiffling. Beside Fife at the front of the stage, Kirsten Adamson added superb co-vocals and acoustic guitar throughout, her harmonies often lifting songs to new heights.
The two-set format worked beautifully, allowing the evening to evolve naturally. Opening with the title track immediately set the tone. ‘New Phone New Car New Man” felt like a Fay Fife manifesto:
“Got a phone to keep me talking,
Got a car to keep me movin’
I got a friend to keep me strong”
Funny, defiant, vulnerable and independent all at once — which is really the essence of Fife’s songwriting.
‘Hard Woman To Love’ carried bruised swagger and wit, but it was ‘Where The River Meets The Sea’ that truly stopped the room in its tracks. Introduced with a reflection on the preciousness of time, it unfolded with extraordinary tenderness and emotional depth. It may genuinely be the finest song this band has written so far and was undoubtedly the highlight of the evening.
Elsewhere, ‘Sweet Beneath The Wishing Tree’ floated beautifully on three-part harmonies from Fife, Adamson and Molleson, while ‘Let This Night Be Over’ — from the first album — was atmospheric and understated, and all the better for it.
‘Wandering Star’ was harder-edged, pushed along by Gare’s gloriously prominent double bass, while ‘Live Again’ demonstrated a haunted cinematic quality that lingered throughout the band’s brief intermission.
The second set shifted up a gear completely: louder, looser and gloriously rockier.
Two back-to-back songs from the first album sent the audience into raptures, with Fife now out amongst the crowd. ‘Second Fiddle’ had a magnificent swagger while ‘Goodbye Motorbike Guy’ roared in with what felt like a countryfied Bat Out Of Hell intro before McFie’s riffing took over completely.
‘Big Sister, Little Sis’ arrived like a glorious Bo Diddley chug, full of wisdom and reckless life advice delivered from Fife to Adamson:
“Get drunk in every bar you want to
Take all lovers that you need to
Get banned from every band you have to”.
Adamson confirming she had already ticked all three boxes brought the house down, while McFie’s killer twang guitar sounded as if it was delivered straight from some mythical ’round midnight roadhouse.
‘Take Me To The Grave’ somehow sounded like The Proclaimers colliding head-on with Dolly Parton — absurd on paper, joyous in practice. ‘Don’t Dress Me Up’ came wrapped in country-rebel punk storytelling, while ‘Who Stole The World’ started big yet somehow got even bigger, its soaring pop chorus sounding ready-made for a Radio 2 audience.
And then came ‘Worn Out and Unloved’, perhaps the night’s most vivid performance piece. It felt like the final song playing in the last open bar on the Strip at chucking-out time — heartbreak, glamour and exhaustion wrapped together. The extended band outro, with Fife leaving the stage like Elvis departing the International Hotel Vegas circa 1972, was perfect.
The band then remained onstage before Fife returned for a rollicking performance of The Revillos’ cult classic ‘Mind Bending Cutie Doll’ bringing the evening to a suitably joyous close, with the band and audience as one.
Watching Fay Fife now, comparisons with the great Alex Harvey feel increasingly understandable — not because they sound alike musically, but because they share something rarer. Personality. Fearlessness. The ability to make audiences feel they are witnessing not simply songs, but an entire world being created in front of them.
Like Harvey, Fife understands that performance matters. Humour matters. Pathos matters. And above all else, great songs matter.
On this evidence, The Countess of Fife are making some of the richest, funniest and most emotionally truthful music in Scotland right now…..
Postscript
Brian McFie. 1960-2026.
Brian McFie was one of those rare musicians whose influence extended far beyond the stage. A gifted guitarist with a distinctive style, he contributed to Scottish music for decades, performing and touring with some of the country’s most admired artists while earning a reputation for generosity, humour, and artistic integrity.
Born and raised in Lanarkshire , McFie developed parallel careers in music and visual art. Whether performing as part of The Big Dish or Lola In Slacks, accompanying Marianne Faithfull on tour, or most recently as a key member of The Countess Of Fife, he brought sensitivity, imagination, and craftsmanship to every project. Away from music, his abstract paintings reflect the same creative curiosity that characterised his guitar playing.
I feel very grateful and fortunate to have been able to see him do what he did best, none more so than at the recent Glad Cafe gig in Glasgow.
He will be sorely missed.
Brian Davidson @weepeople1
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