The
first time in over 7 years – November 2014, gig 930, on their “Lost In The
Dream” tour, in fact! – that I’ve crossed swords with Americana/alt-rock
collective War On Drugs and their idiosyncratic and slightly flakey main-man
Adam Granduciel… said rather splendid album was followed up in 2017 with a
good-but-not-great one in “A Deeper Understanding”, accompanied by an elevation
to much bigger, almost arena-sized venues, so I gave that tour cycle a miss,
and subsequently approached last year’s release, “I Don’t Live Here Anymore”
with a degree of caution. My mistake. A proper return to form in my eyes and
one of my favourite albums of last year, this one, their trademark hazy
sun-dappled melody, lyrical references to dreamy memories, recollections and
regrets, and occasional krautrock metronomic workouts being given a greater
degree of clarity and melancholy, making for an understated yet enticing listen.
Also, some excellent, best-of-career vocals from Adam himself; as if Tom Waits
and Bob Dylan could actually sing in tune! So I was well up for seeing how this
would come across “live”. Shame that a longhaul up to Birmingham was the
nearest gig to the ‘don, but hey ho…
Then
suddenly our front spot got very busy… and very hot! The 7-piece War On Drugs
joined us after an uncomfortable wait at 5 to 9, Adam shooing off the roadies
and greeting us with a, “hello, hello, how’s everybody doing?” and the stately,
windswept opener “Old Skin”. Thereafter we were treated to a superbly chosen
set of their melting pot of stately, understated Americana balladry, occasional
Springsteen-like heartland storytelling and undulating, keyboard powered
rollercoaster rides, all played with impressive balance and clarity (a later, unplanned
and rather muddied grunge workout through Neil Young’s “Like A Hurricane”
notwithstanding). The potent steamhammer of “An Ocean Between The Waves” was
preceded by brief details of keyboardist Robbie Bennett’s “wild night” in
Birmingham (“jellybeans, 7-11s…!”), “Victim” was a tense, taut change-of-pace
with Adam’s vocals veering between strident and conversational, the verse
lyrics tumbling out like discarded marbles, and an early “Red Eyes” was
possibly my set highlight, a careering thrill-ride with Adam shredding
vigorously over an extended denouement. “Arms Like Boulders”, a new entry to
the set, was for, “a 7 foot one bloke who’s going to attack us if we don’t play
it!”, “Harmonia’s Dream” featured some discordant cheesegrater synth, then
after a fragile, hushed and yearning “Rings Around My Father’s Eyes”, we even
had a good-natured moshpit for a later, meandering and lugubrious “Under The
Pressure”. Well, largely good natured, but there’s always one dickhead…
Said
dickhead, a large and visibly over-refreshed curly haired chap propped up by
his tiny girlfriend, whacked into the back of us – fine, no worries,
occupational hazard, not my first rodeo etc. etc. – but I drew the line at him
trying to barge past us like an entitled “5 to 3”-er into an already crowded stage
front. You can fuck right off pal, where’ve you been for the last hour and a
half! A word with the steward in the pit thankfully put paid to his antics, so I
was back in the room for the aforementioned squall of “Like A Hurricane” and an
almost curfew-busting “Occasional Rain”, Adam (who’d been fulsome in his praise
for the engaged crowd throughout) quipping, “it’s £10,000 if we play one second
past 11 [so] we’ll play it fast!” and even turning his digital clock around at 10.59!
