1,220 PSYCHEDELIC FURS, Pauline Murray and the Invisible Girls, Wasted Youth, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 13th April 2022

 

The 9^th time of asking for one of my enduring 80’s faves, Bowie-influenced post-punk art rockers turned leather-clad 80’s FM anthemic fist-punchers – and thankfully back again! – The Psychedelic Furs! This one’s also slightly different from recent encounters (2005, 2012 and 2017), inasmuch as there’s “new” material to promote – 2020’s “Made Of Rain”, a first new album for 29 years! Showing the current swathes of dark, brooding post-punk groups how to do it, this was a bleak and morose yet cohesive and triumphant return, a blend of hooky melody and underpinning sinister, almost pseudo-Goth (before Goth was even a thing!) malevolence that was the Furs’ trademark circa their first 2 albums, particularly the angular, off-kilter sophomore effort “Talk Talk Talk” which is often considered their finest work (I prefer the subsequent, slightly more polished “Forever Now”, me, but I’m perverse like that…). Growing old disgracefully, perhaps, so I duly snapped up tix for the accompanying tour, which was then shunted back at least a couple of times due to that damn Covid bug…

 Nonetheless the date finally arrived, so I collected old buddy Doug – a regular companion for Furs gigs going back to July 1984, gig 15! – for the drive down. Hit the quiet venue (somewhat poorly attended, this one, the balcony remaining closed all night) as openers Wasted Youth took the stage at 7.30; a very dapper gent in hat and cane, who looked as if he’d walked out of a 60’s London kitchen sink drama, led a couple of Johnny Thunders lookalikes and a couple of younger blokes through some standard 70’s pub-rock/ early new wavey fayre. Apparently a post-punk/ early Goth band back in the day, I really didn’t hear any of that in their somewhat tired sounding sludge. “Jealousy”, their more pastoral first single and the Cramps/Ramones-like NYC rock sleaze of closer “Do The Caveman” were the only ones to rise above the murk, but they went down well with the early comers, so what the hell do I know, eh? Anyway, half an hour later we were wishing they were back… main support Pauline Murray, former punk icon with Penetration and tonight fronting up her supposed “post-punk” act the Invisible Girls, was sadly terrible! I’d expected some challenging upbeat post-punk, but tonight’s fayre was very bland and dated sounding 80’s pop, as if they’d been rummaging through latter-day Altered Images’ dustbins, a mid-set “Shadow In My Mind”(their best number and one which briefly threatened to kickstart the set) notwithstanding. Also Pauline, bedecked in houndstooth trousersuit, sounded seriously out of breath between numbers from the outset, and the voice, dismissive yet soaring back in the day, deteriorated badly throughout, so much that later numbers were a trial of endurance for our ears. When a number was dedicated, “to all the keen gardeners out there…” I really felt as if I was on a Saga cruise or something! So disappointing, as I really wanted to like her/them, but maybe it’s time to pack it in and head off to the garden centre, dear…

 Still, thankfully tonight’s headliners weren’t showing their age in quite as pronounced a manner… Keeping us waiting over the scheduled 9.30, the Furs took the stage, gentleman ruffian Richard Butler last on, sunglasses in situ throughout, rasping into opener “High Wire Days” with that distinctive drainpipe sneer, fighting for attention with Mars Williams’ blaring clarinet. An early “You’ll Be Mine” first of the new material on display tonight, was a clattering regimental march, but it was the galloping and tough-sounding “Mr. Jones”, next up, that really kickstarted this set. Now we’re talking!

 Thereafter once again Psychedelic Furs delivered another superb performance, led by Williams’ strident virtuoso sax, imposing monolith Tim Butler’s rock-solid bass base, and his brother’s gesticulating, expansive stage presence and whisky-soaked, world weary vocals. Newie “Wrong Train” (which had actually appeared in their set as long ago as June 2005’s gig 667!) was dark, brooding and quite magnificent, the plangent “Ghost In You” then switched the mood to bright melancholy, and “The Boy Who Invented Rock’n’Roll” discordant and off kilter, the “Made Of Rain” material easily standing tall with those 80’s Furs classics. “Pretty In Pink” was again thrown casually in mid-set (it’s just another number, right?), with “President Gas” superbly widescreen yet horrifyingly prescient for today’s fucked up times. “This Will Never Be like Love” was a stretched, morose yet stately slow-burn, but the subsequent soaring hook of a stunning “Heaven” saw me squirming my way forward from my house right spot, holding my arms aloft to Tim Butler’s approval. All too soon the massive chiming hook of “Heartbreak Beat” drew a stunningly swift set to a close, the band returning in short order for a virtuoso sax-powered “Sister Europe” and the careering “India”, by which time I was rocking out down the front and mouthing the lyrics to the equally frenzied dancing lady next to me.

 A heartfelt, “thank you!” from Richard (taciturn throughout, only ever thanking the crowd occasionally but not introducing a single number – no need, I guess!) and that was that. No list again, a friendly roadie apologising to me for being “not permitted” to hand them out. Hmmm… Still, another fine night out in the fine company of my old friend Doug and equally old friends The Psychedelic Furs. Definitely growing old disgracefully!