So
I set off on a balmy early evening, initially encountering frustrating
heavy traffic but nonetheless parking up in my usual spot around the
corner from the venue, getting in at 7.45 and watching
the place fill up, mainly with studious old rocker blokes with Ramones
or “Marquee Moon” t-shirts. At 49, I actually felt quite young! Took a
wander forward for support Louise Distras, a raven haired and tattooed
punk/ folk songstress with an overt gravelly
delivery for her strident political (both personal and party) Guthrie/
Bragg-esque manifestos. What kept her just the right side of screaming
harpy sloganeering cliché for me was some dry wit and carefree
enthusiasm, which grabbed my attention, if not the
majority of the crowd. I enjoyed her set, although I couldn’t help but
wonder whether a Hyde Park Corner soapbox might be a more appropriate
venue…
Kept
my spot stage right, four or five rows back and next to some
bespectacled lairy bloke (more on him later…), as we were subjected to
what seemed an eternity of patience-trying pealing bells as
a “musical” backdrop, before the band finally emerged, looking like a
group of lawyers on their way to the golf course, with the obvious
exception of be-hatted and pointy bearded rocker guitarist Jimmy Rip.
After some wall-of-noise Byrdsian psych-fretwork,
mainly from Rip, they kicked into the herky-jerky rhythm and tumbling
NYC street cool riffery of “See No Evil”. This immediately set the tone
for tonight’s performance; laconic albeit submerged vocals from iconic
mainman Tom Verlaine, pounding tom-tom dominated
rhythm, and intricate and virtuoso fretwork from both Verlaine and Rip,
who particularly (and ironically) can play guitar just like ringing a
bell…!
As
I’d suspected, this was a non-sequential run-through of the “Marquee
Moon” material, as the Spanish guitar of “Prove It” was next up,
featuring an impassioned, yearning vocal from Verlaine, followed
by a squalling “1880 Or So”, notable for Rip’s white noise guitar work
which was eerily reminiscent of Bob Mould! Prior to an eerie, elegiac
“Torn Curtain”, Verlaine, in response to a heckler, replied, “there’s
always some guy who shouts, “come on Tom,” and
I never figure out what the… fuck he means!” The band then suffered
some technical problems before the nevertheless excellently chugging
“Friction”, and the subsequent “Elevation” was superb, dramatic and
windswept, but was punctuated by lairy bloke (remember
him?) pushing forward, pissing off a few folks in the process. It all
seemed ready to kick off before the “come on Tom” bloke, a hefty chap to
my left, deftly diffused that situation by removing lairy bloke’s
glasses and luring him out of the vicinity, while
the band, oblivious, played on… “Venus” was my personal set highlight, a
plangent thing of beauty, wondrous and haunting with Rip’s tumbling,
intricate guitar riff as much a work of art as the subject matter of
Venus De Milo. However, towards the end of this
number, lairy bloke returned, pushing and shoving, before one guy,
whose girlfriend he’d insulted earlier, flew into him and gave him a
good old fashioned chinning which sent him sprawling to the ground,
before bouncers dived in to remove lairy bloke from
the premises, to everyone’s relief!
Thus
relaxed, it was time for set closer “Marquee Moon”, tonight’s version
of this definitive New Wave classic rendered perfectly, the mood
detached and urbane, with Verlaine and Rip weaving intricate
guitar patterns which built over its’ sprawling length to a rocking
crescendo. Marvellous stuff, and a total appropriate way to end the set.
We
didn’t really need encores after that, but “Glory” (which I know
largely due to Lloyd Cole’s cover!) was the best of the 2. However
“Marquee Moon” was the real star on display tonight. So overall,
an ancient error corrected by myself, and a splendid evening with these
enduring New Wave pioneers Television!
Very, very envious right now...
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