A day
(and evening) out in London that didn’t go exactly as planned, but was
entertaining and fun nonetheless…
I’d
jumped on this right away; after 80’s Indie guitar legends The House Of Love
had announced a showcase date at London’s prestigious Roundhouse to play a 30th
Anniversary show celebrating their debut album, a ubiquitous effort that saw
them arrive, fully-formed, with a collection of erudite, well-constructed songs
melding their evident sonic influences (60’s classics The Byrds and Velvet
Underground, 80’s post-punkers Echo And The Bunnymen and Jesus And Mary Chain)
into a cohesive whole, I’d put the shout-out on Facebook, and was quickly
joined by Messrs. Moore, May and Craven. Sorted tix; however Mr. Craven dropped
out due to family issues, but Jason recruited his pal and my old BT colleague
Alan to join us. As the gig fell on a Saturday, this was a no-brainer; record
and comic shopping day in Camden – yay!
I’d
sorted a parking spot on parkonmydrive.com, so I picked Alan and Jason up at 11
under rainy, foreboding skies, outpacing the weather on the drive oop the
Smoke, finding our parking spot after a couple of wrong turns, and taking a
walk into Camden, getting into the shops just as the rains arrived. The boys
headed off for Soho and I ducked into a record shop to get out of the rain;
however, after 10 minutes in said dank and depressing record shop looking
through crappy old Beggars & Co and Carmel vinyl, 10 minutes more in Mega
City Comics (where the nearest I got to buying something was some 1973 UK
Avengers comics, just for nostalgia's sake), and a desultory tramp up the High
Street in the increasingly pissing rain, I'd had enough and come to an
inescapable conclusion. Today was not going to turn out as planned, and not
just because of the weather; simply put, Camden is an utter shithole! Maybe it
always was, maybe it's my age, but I can't believe I'd romanticised the place
sufficiently to want to waste a day here. The fact that the queue to get on the
tube and get the hell out of Dodge spread all around the corner, entire
pavement-wide, said it all for me. Fuck waiting in that, I thought; I trudged
down to Mornington Crescent, headed over to Forbidden Planet and promptly spent
the thick end of £70 on (mainly sale price) graphic novels! Yay!
Back
over to dump my purchases in the car, then headed over to the venue in the
drizzle, meeting up with Rich May, who’d caught the train up, in the adjacent
bar at 6. We had our tickets scanned, so we were in! Rich pointed out
unexpected support act Martin Carr, and I popped over for a chat about our
mutual friend, my Boston buddy Corin Ashley, including the story of when I
visited Corin in Cardiff for an evening drink after he'd been recording with
Martin - I'd taken along a gigbook containing a Boo Radleys setlist, and
Martin's wife had texted a pic of it back to the babysitting Martin, eliciting
a text reply of "a litany of tunelessness"!!
So
Rich and I, now joined by Rich's brother Colin, wandered in to see Martin's set
at 7.20, in the hope of something tuneful...! Accompanied by 2 gents on synth
and bass, the lengthy opener featured some cultured, intricate and haunting
guitar over some atmospheric synth backbeats, before he finally took the mic,
revealing himself as a lilting vocalist of no little note. Nice! The second
number ("Enemies Of The People"?) was a more straightforward
psych-pop 60's workout, before his vignette ended with an unexpected
"Lazarus", a stripped-back reading of the Boo Radleys classic ending
in an extended funky break. A real curveball from Mr. Carr!
The
old engine shed was filling up nicely, as the main support took the stage at 8.
"The Roundhouse, eh? Flippin' eck, it's full... We're Thousand Yard Stare
from the 80's!" quipped rakish vocalist Stephen as the band, who looked
like they'd been giving their singer their allotted portions of the elixir of
youth, nonetheless burst into a frantic "Version Of Me". As per their
2016 "Shiine On" set, their libidinous baggy dance-pop was delivered
at a furious, Lauda-esque pace, and Stephen was again a vaguely unsettling
onstage presence, prowling around, speaking in tongues and making odd hand
gestures. An early "Buttermouth" was great fun,
"Seasonstream" ("this wasn't on the EP [of the same name] as I
was trying to be a clever fucker when I was 20!") was creepy and moody,
and whilst the mid-set meandered along pleasantly enough, the penultimate
"0-0 AET", featuring the original drummer, still recovering from
illness, was a loose-limbed set highlight. Good set again from the
self-deprecating Thousand Yard Who?
We
kept our spot near the front, but it got seriously crammed down there; also, we
seemed to be in the vicinity of some folks who clearly don't get out much, and
don't really know how to comport themselves properly when out in a busy place.
Bah! Still, we had a band to concentrate on, and the lights dimmed at 9.15,
guitarist Terry Bickers taking the stage first, ever the virtuoso perfectionist,
making final checks before his bandmates joined him. "30 years ago we
released our debut album under the watchful eye of Alan McGhee" (the
Creation Records boss, who'd acted as between-band DJ tonight, looking
unfortunately like Uncle Albert from "Only Fools And Horses"),
announced vocalist Guy Chadwick, before they eased into opening track
"Christine", its wall-of-guitar building from a surprisingly
understated opening to a more powerful "ba-ba ba-ba-ba" looped
climax.
This
pretty much set the tone; the sound was perfect, the band delivering this
classic album with respect and hallowed devotion, but, aside from the odd
snatch of crunchy riffery from Sir Bickers, the undoubted star of the show(the
guitar breaks in "Hope", which also saw some high kicks from the still-youthful
guitarist, and the thunderous building climax of "Love In A Car") it
all felt a little understated, introspective, low-key even, the sparse, almost
hushed "Man To Child" encapsulating their approach. My mood probably
wasn't helped by the guy in front of me remaining stock still throughout, but
I, rather churlishly, felt like the artillery guy from "Good Morning
Vietnam"; “can we play anything for you?" "Anything! Just play
it loud! Okay?!!”
Album
dispensed with, they did actually crank it up at last; "Marble" was
dynamic, underpinned by a creepy bassline, "A Baby Got Back" was
punchy and undulating, and the underrated "I Don't Know Why I Love
You" just rocked with pleading intensity. But they saved their best for
the set closer; after fulsome thanks from Mr. Bickers ("we're so happy you
could join us for this celebration"), "Destroy The Heart" was
powerful, epic and totally worth the admission price on its own. Great way to
end the set!
After
the inevitable encore of the plangent "Shine On", a friendly roadie
handed me a list at the second attempt (!), and I was deluged by folks wanting
to get a pic! Ran into old Lev friends Kate and Rachel on the way out for a
chat, before a thankfully dry hike back to the car for midnight and a quick
exit out of London, home at a bleary-eyed 2am after dropping the guys
(including Rich, who joined us on the drive back) home. On reflection, I was
probably being harsh with my "louder!" views, as much of that first
album material is more delicate and introspective. On the whole, they did
excellent justice to it; a gig worthy of such a notable celebration, after a
fun, if different than anticipated, day up the Smoke!
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