1,258 THE CHAMELEONS, The Membranes, Gloucester Guildhall Arts Centre, Sunday 11th December 2022

 

The penultimate gig of 2022 saw me once again seeking out Manchester’s finest 80’s dark goth-tinged widescreen post-punkers The Chameleons, for the second time this calendar year. Like February’s stellar performance at The Fleece (gig 1,207), this one was billed as a “35^th Anniversary” celebration performance of their sophomore 1985 album, “What Does Anything Mean, Basically?”, although an element of confusion was latterly added to proceedings, with main-man Mark Burgess’ proclamation on Facebook only yesterday that, “for the time being at least, I’m not going to take part in any more “album performances”…” Straight from the Lion’s Mouth, as it were… so what to expect from tonight’s gig?

 Well, a dodgy journey, for starters; with the UK in the grip of a prolonged cold snap, I hit the road in minus temperatures, pussy-footing it along the oft-treacherous A419 to Gloucester and parking up in a rather slushy car park around the corner from the Leisure Centre. Quiet early doors, this one; this might be the province of the select (and hardy!) few tonight! Gig buddy and Gloucester resident Simon turned up just before support band The Membranes were due on, so we wandered in together to grab a barrier spot, house right, and catch John Robb’s lot deliver a fine and apposite support slot of dark, dramatic post-punk noise. Opening with a funereal death march with a regimented drumbeat, then powering through a growling bass-led “What Nature Gives” and the upbeat, gothy chant of “Black Is The Colour”, they were snarling and ferocious tonight. And Robb was everywhere; ably supported by his band (featuring a goth keyboardist female in a Tim Burton style black rose-adorned veil, who also contributed Middle Eastern-inspired backing vocal wails), he, gravel-voiced (deadpanning, “has anyone else got this cold?”) and wild-eyed, was a riveting stage presence, really putting in a proper shift. Chatty too; the jagged, angular “Snow Monkey” saw him again deliver that societal allegory speech, then refer to me directly as, “the kind of guy who know about snow monkeys!” The racey “Myths And Legends” again rounded out another creepy, kooky, mysterious and spooky Membranes set, and another reminder that I really need to check out their recorded output…

 

The Chameleons didn’t keep us waiting long after that, ambling nonchalantly onstage at 9 and straight into haunting opener “A Person Isn’t Safe Here Anywhere” from their debut album. Not doing the 2^nd album thing tonight, then, a point underlined by Burgess himself; “we thought, sack that off and play a mixed bag!” Honestly, play what you like, Mark, it’s going to be stellar either way! And, once again, The Chameleons were utterly superb, their material, as evidenced by the eerie, undulating “Pleasure And Pain” often sweeping and swooping between tempo and mood changes within the same song, yet somehow sounding flowing and coherent, and underpinned by some quite startling, complex and atmospheric textural guitar patterns, woven seamlessly by twin axemen Reg Smithies and Neil Dwerryhouse. Burgess himself was also on top form and in quite voluble mood, augmenting his material with lines from the likes of The Clash, The Fall, David Bowie, The Doors, The Smiths and (mainly) The Beatles, but also providing us with the benefit of his wisdom and worldview with a few lengthy and acerbic between-song diatribes (“old people are scared to turn on their heating in the middle of the coldest snap for years,” being one particularly barbed comment).

 And the music wasn’t bad either! An ironic “Rule Britannia” was savage and vitriolic, a careering “Mad Jack” (“speaking of mad bastard despots…”) namechecked both Trump and Putin in its’ bilious tirade, and the tumbling drums of the sinuous, Doors-like “Soul In Isolation” were brilliant, Burgess’ delivering the appropriated line “all our leaders are insane” in his sonorous, stentorian vocals, leaving us in no doubt as to his opinions. But “Swamp Thing” topped even that, the circular, coruscating riff mellifluous and enchanting, the choral hook huge, widescreen and soaring. Wonderful stuff. An unplanned, requested “Nostalgia” and the expansive euphoria of “Second Skin” rounded off a superb set – the stuff dreams are made of, indeed!

 

A 3 song encore including “PS Goodbye” for a couple of enthusiastic girls just behind us, and a tense, taut “Don’t Fall”, which saw Burgess, all of 62 years young, leap from the stage and onto a photog plinth behind the barrier to deliver the vocal (!), rounded off another brilliant Chameleons gig, Burgess leaving us with another speech urging us to support “live” music and treasure these communal experiences. We do, Mark, oh we do! Cognisant of the conditions, I grabbed a quick list and bade farewell to Simon - great to see him again, once I’d survived his vice-like handshake, that is! – then hit the road for an easier than feared journey home with Mark’s final words ringing in my ears. This was again one to be treasured, from The Chameleons!