I
wasn’t the only one this enthusiastic, either; old friend Paul
Crowfoot, on hearing about this one, arranged some work time at his
company’s European offices, and flew over from Seattle (ostensibly)
for the gig! So it was that I picked him up from his ‘rents place
mid-afternoon, and we took a sun-drenched drive up to Heathrow, dumping
his stuff in his hotel for his flight back to Toulouse tomorrow and
killing time with some plane spotting. his window
overlooking the main landing runway! We eventually dragged ourselves
away from the planes, driving in to The Bush as usual, parking up a bit
further away from the usual spot, tubing in and hitting the venue at
7.30, just as it opened up (thereby being 2nd
and 3rd through the door!). We took some seats stage right for some
entertaining and animated catch-up chat which quickly whiled away the
time before Glaswegian support Lemonhaze joined us at 8.45, to a muted
response from the crowd, which elicited the dismissive
response from the vocalist, “that was pish!” Nonetheless, they played
an eminently passable set of gloomy, post-punk influenced moody rock,
with 2nd number in, “Feel”, an intriguing tumbling drum-led epic
embellished by some chiming, Editors-like guitar, and
the subsequent one an angular, morose mood-piece which appropriated the
riff from Television’s “Marquee Moon”, displaying some good taste in
plagiarism if nothing else! The preening, midriff-baring vocalist
clearly holds himself in high regard, and tried some
inappropriate stadium-rock style audience call-and-response, but put in
a good shift with some energetic dancing and has a decent resonant
voice for this type of material. Seen much worse…
Took
a wander down the front and pitched up stage left as the stylishly
black-clad Johnny Cash wannabee (!) Lobster guitarists came on to tune
up, sticking an “Under London Skies” legend over the
bass drum’s “Lemonhaze” logo in the process. Eventually, they signalled
their readiness, the black jacketed- and sunglassed up Lobster mainman
Andrew Burnett taking the stage last for their set at 9.45. After a
short instrumental bedding-in number, the choppy,
chuntering jangle of “Loopholes” kicked in, the years falling away
immediately, the band sounding thrillingly tight and taut. Then an early
“I Kiss The Flower In Bloom”, (“inspired by the Birthday Party!”
according to Burnett) possibly my most enduring favourite
track from that classic “Foxheads” album, was magnificent, an object
lesson in wallowing melancholy with that monotone yet absorbing hook. If
only things had stayed at that level…
The
band remained “on it” throughout, the bass and drums utterly
rock-solid, and the twin guitar interplay magnificent, adding depth and
gravitas to the Rickenbacker chimes, which jangled more than
the pocketful of change sported by my gig buddy (and rather amusingly
spat out earlier by the tube ticket machine!). However, the subsequent
new number “Wander” (a 3 parter “inspired by [Lou Reed’s] “Street Hassle
– we can aspire to those heights”) was understated,
and featured some particularly off-key extra guitar work from Burnett,
prompting his fellow guitarist to ask him to disregard said instrument
for the subsequent double of “NYC” and “Under London Skies”. Worse
though, Burnett’s vocals, a deliciously detached
and entirely appropriate nasal sneer on record, were similarly veering
off-key, often into an annoying karaoke bellow, sadly bringing to mind
Ian Brown’s ham-fisted vocal performance with the Stone Roses at Reading
1995. And even worse still, Burnett himself
seemed occasionally disinterested, as if going through the motions for
this London crowd. As per Lush last weekend, for me it’s not just enough
to “be” there… you have to BE there. Really mean it, maaaan…
“Let’s
Make Some Plans” (which was apparently played on BBC’s “Homes Under The
Hammer” last week, Burnett remarking, “and now [the programme has] been
axed – the Close Lobsters kiss of death, ladies
and gentlemen!”), possibly their recorded high watermark, was
disappointingly thin, the only number of the night where the band sound
was lacking. However set finale “A Prophecy” roared back like a lion,
the guitar fulsome and vibrant, with Burnett’s vocals
settling down to a more apt roar. Then encore “Just Too Bloody Stupid”
rounded off an uneven performance, and one which it honestly seemed the
boys onstage were glad to bring to an end.
We
left quickly and debated this all the way back to the car, and on the
way to Paul’s hotel, before bidding my old friend farewell and heading
wearily off home. I’m really uncomfortable even writing
this, as I love this band – and that perfect debut album – so damn
much, but I have to call it like I see it. The band were spot-on
tonight, and it was great to at least hear a smattering of that classic
material; it just felt as if they – and we – were let
down by their leader. And it really should have been a triumph… maybe next time?
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