Well,
recent gigs seem to be falling into a bit of an unexpected – and unwelcome –
pattern, insofar as I’ve been going to far too many clunkers for my liking of
late. Also, somewhat surprisingly, said clunkers are mainly coming from the old
stagers, the experienced hands (with the splendid exception of The Stuffies,
Adam Ant and Brian Wilson – well, Wilson’s back line anyway…) letting me down
somewhat, and the young bucks – particularly the local boys (take a bow, White
Lilac and Raze*Rebuild) – coming through strongly. Another case in point was
this, tonight, from 70’s New York proto punk/ art rockers Television; despite
their passing me by a little back in the day, I’d latterly come to acknowledge
their rightful place in the pantheon of rock’n’roll, and caught them doing full
justice to their 1977 masterpiece, the seminal “Marquee Moon”, a couple of
years ago at Shepherd’s Bush Empire. So despite this gig being at the
impossible-to-park-at Anson Rooms, I booked tickets anyway; c’mon, Television
are bound to be pretty reliable after nearly 40 years of practise, right?
Right?
Fellow
veteran rocker Beef joined us for this one as we headed off early to maximise
our parking chances, finding a lucky last spot just around the corner for 7,
thereby necessitating a wait outside on a thankfully balmy evening for doors at
7.30, and running into Devizes gig buddy Alfie in the process. Drinks in the
bar and chat, circulating around recent gigs (particularly Wilson) and job
prospects, took us up to the support, a tousled female soloist with a minimally
played guitar and a quirky line in cool, laconic late night bluesy balladry. One
jolly, coquettish number was apparently written for Leonard Cohen’s 80th
birthday, and another was a one-note wordy, dark and duskily delivered tune
which recalled Drugstore’s Isabel Monteiro. The studied NYC cool groove of new
number, “No No Nostalgia”, closed out an intriguing and charming little set.
Back
to the bar and ran into day trippers Jason and Julia, who were joining us for
the return journey. We then all decamped to the main hall – by now crammed,
particularly down the front – then had to wait an uncomfortable 20 minutes past
Television’s allotted 9 pm arrival (enduring some painful freeform jazz in the
process!) for the gents to finally join us. Led by guitar legend Tom Verlaine, they
played an atmospheric opening piece highlighting Verlaine’s dextrous picking before
“actual” opening number, “Prove It”, a bleak, yearning elegy with a Tex-Mex feel.
The next number (which was preceded by Verlaine proffering some very explicit
instructions to the lighting man, and when the beleaguered roadie failed to
meet his detailed demands, suggested to the crowd, “I think you should all turn
on this lighting guy!”) highlighted hired gun Jimmy Rip’s excellently snaking,
sinuous fretwork, Rip coaxing an almost plaintive keening out of his instrument.
Excellent, virtuoso musicianship.
However,
thereafter the gig seemed to morph into a contest between Verlaine and Rip as
to which could play the most elaborate – and interminably lengthy – solos. Don’t
get me wrong, there were some highlights amidst this; the tango rhythm verse
and tumbling, cascading chorus of “Venus De Milo” was utterly gorgeous, and the
later, Velvet Underground-invoking eerie street balladry of “Guiding Light” was
also superb. However “Little Johnny Jewel” (which preceded these two) was a
lengthy, stripped out workout which tested the patience, and an even lengthier,
creepy and largely instrumental number saw Verlaine and Rip indulge their
art-rock/ avant garde selves and frequently sail uncomfortably near tedious prog
rock self indulgent boredom.
No comments:
Post a Comment