Three gigs in a week… and no tinnitus ?

I’ve been on tour in three of England’s glamourous northern cities, catching three very different gigs over the course of a week.  And I can still hear.  Rock’n'Roll ain’t what it used to be.

First up, a pilgrimage (for that is indeed what it feels like) to Leeds for The Sisters of Mercy.  While it was invariably billed as a “homecoming” show (The Sisters were formed in some dark cellar round here in about 1981, I reckon), Andrew Eldritch made no concessions to any local interest.  He remained resolutely enigmatic (“wortkarg”, he’d probably prefer to say). 

Over the years I’ve seen the various incarnations of the band, starting with the UK Wembley shows in 1990; a ’92 festival at Germany’s Loreley; the Birmingham NEC in ’92; Manchester’s Apollo (I’m guessing 1996 ?) and University (2000); Birmingham’s Academy (possibly 2000 or 2001) and the Bristol Academy (god knows… 2004 and 2006 ?).    Recently, Eldritch has started to cede the stage to his fellow musicians, allowing more axe solo work and leaving the stage for a rendition of ‘Top Night Out’, a two-guitar-no-vox piece.

This time round he’s hired Leeds’ own Ben Christo and Chris May, who both probably did a decent enough job.  I say ‘probably’ because, I could hardly hear them.  At first I thought it was the mix (ALWAYS a problem at Sisters’ shows), but when I realised that I was carrying on a conversation with Perlasix sound guru Andrew Daly at near-normal sound pressure levels it became quite clear that the PA sucked.  Big time.

That said, Ben and Chris looked like they were trying to make a show of it… lot’s of axe-hero posturing and a bit of pogo (courtesy of Chris).  The problem is that this can make the band look silly, creating a disconnect between the input of effort, flailing at instruments, and the woeful output of sound to the auditorium.  It brought to mind one of Eldritch’s rare on-stage comments, made when finishing a support set for Depeche Mode. “Enjoy the puppet show”, he’s reported to have jibed.  In retrospect that doesn’t seem smart.  Perhaps he’d better stick to the enigmatic thing, at least until he can work with a band and venues to deliver a decent rock gig himself.

A few days later it’s a short-notice trip to Manchester for Ultravox’s Return to Eden tour.  For this, the Apollo has been transformed to an all-seater venue, which is a first for me.  Punters didn’t stay sat down for long though (probably for fear of getting DVT… it was like flying budget) and were on their feet for most of a fairly brave set.  The classics (uptempo stuff off Vienna, plus Hymn, One Day, Dancing with Tears in my Eyes, etc.) all featured, but the standout tracks were the epics off both Vienna (Mr. X, Astradyne) and Rage In Eden (Death in the Afternoon, Your Name has Slipped my Mind Again).    The band seemed to be enjoying themselves (“where have you been for the last 23 years”, Midge Ure asked the crowd), and genuinely performed ‘live’ with precious little sequencing, it seemed.  They stayed faithful in tone to the originals, neither hardening nor softening the sound.

Finally, to Sheffield for Propagandhi, who are Manitoba’s finest agit-pop-punk-anarcho-vegans.  Well, someone has to be.  After some dismal support from a bunch of pissed teenagers with no songs and all their mates in the crowd (yes, both of them), Propagandhi came on for a set of ruthlessly efficient Green Dayisms… and were promptly interrupted by security invading the stage to announce a backstage fire.  A ruthlessly efficient evacuation followed, the Fire Service arrived (to cheers), then the cops (to boos) and eventually, following lots of half-arsed chanting (“fuckin’ ell, fuckin’ ell”… vegan punks don’t seem to have the protein for a full-scale riot) and one arrest, a megaphone announcement to “go home… the show is over”.

Figuring that the scene was not about to get any prettier (all those ¾ length shorts, weird piercings and sleeve tattoos), I withdrew into the cold Sheffield night for some restorative meaty pasta.  Sorry, vega-punks, but that cow did not die in vain.

One final thought – three gigs in a week and NO TINNITUS.  It’s Health and Safety gone mad.  Rock’n’roll may truly be dead.

Discuss…