The Hold Steady, a band I glibly yet (to my mind) totally accurately
describe as The Greatest Rock’n’Roll Band On The Planet, and featuring in
vocalist Craig Finn a complete onstage Force of Nature wrapped up in the slight
bespectacled frame of a middle-aged geography teacher, celebrated the 10th
anniversary of their breakthrough album “Boys And Girls In America” last year
with a series of party gigs around their native USA. Like all killer parties,
however, this one was bound to spill over beyond its’ scheduled time, so 2018
saw them return to these shores to continue that celebration, with a couple of
London shows. No fucking chance was I missing that, so I was “on it” for the
tickets as soon as they went on sale, sadly blowing out of my preferred
Saturday slot before they sold out (or so I thought), but happily snagging one
for the Friday opener. Good thing too as it turned out, as the usual SLF “Mad
March” date was announced for the Saturday, completing a “3-gigs-in-3-days” mad
weekend… but I digress…
Made arrangements to leave work early and hit a sodden M4 at 4pm for a
difficult drive up the Smoke, inching along painfully from the Chiswick flyover
and parking up, somewhat frazzled, at 7 in the Bush. Tubed it over to the
Electric Ballroom and took a spot, stage left near the front, wandering in as
the PA was playing “Life Begins At The Hop” by XTC! Sang along to that and
subsequent XTC classics before Scott Hutchison took the stage at 8 to a cheer
and a remark of, “well, this is a bit exciting…” Hutchison, main-man of Scots’ fuzzy
psych-folk backwoodsmen and Grandaddy acolytes Frightened Rabbit, a band whose
2013 “Pedestrian Verse” album I’d enjoyed, but whose accompanying gig (no. 895)
and subsequent follow-up, 2016’s “Painting Of A Panic Attack” I’d found a bit,
well, pedestrian, set about proving
me wrong with a fine and well-chosen set of FR moments; “The Modern Leper” was
a morose and angst-ridden gallop-fest, followed by a pacy, slightly-delic “Old
Old Fashioned”. Also entertaining was his dealing with a request with, “I don’t
know if that works acoustically,” then when said heckler replied in the
affirmative, responding with, “it works for you,
maybe…!” “I Wish I Was Sober” was a plaintive, mournful elegy, and a rousing
“Woodpile” and foot-stomping “Loneliness And The Scream”, the crowd woah-oh-ing
along to the dramatic and building denouement, were fine punctuations on an
unexpectedly splendid and well-received set. Need to re-appraise some of that
Frightened Rabbit stuff, obviously…
The place got proper old-school rammed as XTC again filled the time,
before the lights dimmed at 9 and the “Pink Panther” theme started up, The Hold
Steady sauntering onstage to a rapturous, lengthy and building ovation. Last to
take the stage was Finn, already beaming from ear to ear, taking a moment to
bask in the adulation before announcing, “we’re going to have a good time
tonight!” as Tad Kubler hit the opening notes to “Stuck Between Stations.” From
that opening riff, the place went bat-shit mental (myself included), audience
responding as one, an eruption of sheer effervescent joy and immersion in the
power of rock’n’roll, all-encompassing and all-inclusive. All, that is, except
for one dickhead…
The mosh was a violently jostling yet joyful and good-natured body, arms
aloft, a multitude of singing and hugging total strangers, yet this one bloke,
on the barriers stage right, treated anyone who dared bash into him as if it
was a personal assault, viciously elbowing back with indignant fury etched
across his face. On more than one occasion he squared up to me – I just
beckoned behind me and yelled, “look at that, mate, what can I do about that??” – so I sought a bit of space
from this gig virgin moron. He later squared up to another fellow mosher – a
much heftier bloke than myself (if you’re reading this mate, I mean that in the
nicest way!) – at which point a bouncer intervened. Shame, I’d have liked to
have seen him try to take on my mosh companion. Would have been one a punch fight
there, methinks…
Let this not detract from the onstage fayre, however; from note one, The
Hold Steady were utterly magnificent tonight, the distilled essence of rock’n’roll,
thrilling and transcendent. I dunno, I’ve been doing this gig malarkey for 38
years now, but I can probably count on the fingers of one hand those very
special “live” bands where the distinction between performer and audience is so
blurred you can’t see the join, where everyone comes together in a celebratory
mass, giving themselves (ourselves) over to the moment. “This 6-piece line-up
[including original and returning member, keyboardist Franz Nicolai] is the
best live line up [of The Hold Steady],” announced an all-action Finn, and
after a huge singalong “Sequestered In Memphis” and rampant “Same Kooks”,
nobody was arguing!
After a few numbers, however, it dawned on me a) that I’m 52 and owner
of 2 dodgy knees, and b) how ill-prepared I was for this one. Knowing I, like
99% of tonight’s attendees, was going to completely lose my shit to The Hold
Steady, I should really have donned contact lenses, kneestraps; hell, even
shorts (!). So I took a mid-set rest before working my way over to the other
side of the crowd, away from barrier moron. “Are you guys having as much fun as
I am?” asked an elated Finn before “First Night”, which featured a keyboard
vignette from Nicolai; then an utterly incendiary “Constructive Summer” saw me
back in the pit, bouncing off my fellow moshers and rejoicing in the moment. A
new number, “Eureka” (“about Eureka, California – it’s beautiful but really
sketchy!” according to Finn) promised well for the next album, and “I Hope This
Whole Thing Didn’t Frighten You” was immense, featuring a ball-crushingly
massive middle 8. “Your Little Hoodrat Friend” featured a typically tangential
soliloquy from Finn on the history of the Hold Steady before its usual soaring
denouement, and the soulful confessional of “How A Resurrection Really Feels”
saw everyone take a much needed breather at the end of an utterly rampant set.
“I usually give up drink for Lent,” announced Finn upon returning for
the encore, gleefully clutching a plastic cocktail cup, “but God granted me a
European exemption!” “Citrus” was lovely, plaintive and singalong, before a
punked-up “Adderall” and roof-raising “Stay Positive” followed, the crowd’s
“whoa-oh-oh’s shaking this venerable old venue’s foundations. Then, “its’ come
to the part of the evening that I only have one more thing to say…” Finn built
the tension as the band eased into the framework of “Killer Parties” before
releasing it with, “… there is SO MUCH JOY!!! in what we do!” to a huge
ovation. “Killer Parties” took us to an astonishing 2 hours that simply raced
by, Finn leaving us with the message, “we, you, you and you, we ALL are The
Hold Steady…!”
Elated, I grabbed a list, chatted with fellow punters about what we’d
just witnessed – hell, what we’d just been part of – before collecting my
thoughts and what little remaining energy I could muster, thence disappearing
into the London night, car by midnight, home at a weary 1.30. It’s not just
hyperbole on my part, for me The Hold Steady are indeed The Greatest
Rock’n’Roll Band On The Planet, and tonight they emphatically underlined it
again. Long may this Killer Party continue!
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