Showing posts with label The Specials. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Specials. Show all posts

Saturday, December 21, 2019

Albums of 2019

Annual list time. If you’ve been here with me before you’ll know that my choices for the blog’s albums of the year are strictly limited to the new albums I’ve got my sticky mitts on during the year. Spotify doesn’t count, just purchased copies in whatever format. Which tends to rule out the dozens or hundreds of really good releases you’ll see elsewhere on year-end lists. I guess I could call it ‘best additions to my collection’, etc, or the stuff I listened to most, but it hardly matters, you know the drill.

10. Chromatics - Closer to Grey

I’m not sure whether Closer to Grey is the fifth, sixth, or seventh Chromatics album. Or something else entirely. It rather depends on whether or not you count re-released drumless versions of past work, and whether or not you count the apparently completed but still unreleased Dear Tommy, a much hyped, long shelved, full-length project from a couple of years back. Such are the mercurial and mysterious ways of arch-perfectionist and key Chromatic, Johnny Jewel. But whatever album number it is, Closer to Grey is the first Chromatics outing I’ve picked up since 2012’s excellent Kill For Love album, and the most important thing in all of this is that it ticks all the right boxes for long suffering fans. Or, at least, this fan. Those boxes include Chromatics’ commitment to a dreamy shoegaze aesthetic, Jewel’s devotion to creating widescreen cinematic imagery, and a much loved predilection for oddball covers - in the case of Closer to Grey, that means a reimagining of tunes like ‘The Sound of Silence’ (Simon & Garfunkel) and ‘On The Wall’ (The Jesus and Mary Chain). I do have a few reservations over the durability of Ruth Radelet’s voice across multiple listens. On one hand her vocal is light of touch and weightless, while on the other, it has a tendency to come across as a little thin and a tad too bland. What works well in isolation, on individual tracks, can be less engaging over the full course of the album’s journey. But that’s a minor quibble, and Closer to Grey comfortably makes the cut for this year’s 10.

9. Beat Rhythm Fashion - Tenterhook

2019 gave us the chance to reconsider the too often overlooked legacy of early 80s Wellington post-punkers BRF. There was a short national tour and, most unexpectedly, a brand new album. Just like those autumn gigs, Tenterhook felt intimate, personal, and heartfelt. A very welcome return, even if it does turn out to be a temporary one. R.I.P. Dan Birch. My full review is here.


Speaking of the scarcely anticipated, I really didn’t expect this one to feature on any year-end list when I downloaded it early in the year. Curiosity led me to it, mainly because I’d seen a few Bobbie Gentry TV “specials” when I was growing up, and I knew a little bit about Mercury Rev already. As the title informs us, it’s Mercury Rev’s take on the 1968 Bobbie Gentry release The Delta Sweete, with an alt-country meets modern day Americana crossover spin. Guest vocalists include luminaries such as Nora Jones, Hope Sandoval, Vashti Bunyan, Phoebe Bridgers, Beth Orton, and Lucinda Williams. Although Gentry’s best known track, the chart-topping ‘Ode To Billie Joe’ didn’t actually feature on the 1968 original, Mercury Rev include it here, and Williams’ interpretation of it is one of the best (of many) versions I’ve heard. On the surface, Bobbie Gentry’s The Delta Sweete Revisited was an easy listening affair, and it got a lot of workplace airtime as a result, especially across the first six months of 2019, but scratch below that surface a little and you’ll find Gentry’s themes were often anything but easy listening. A revelation.

7. The Specials - Encore

More Tales of the Unexpected. Anyone noticing a theme here? New work from a band that first emerged some 40 years ago. A blend of just about everything you could possibly want from the three remaining Specials (plus friends) ... ska, funk, straight pop, social commentary, and political activism. My full review is here.

6. Pitch Black - Third Light

I’m not sure what more I can say about my love for Pitch Black. I’ve written so much about the duo’s music already - on this blog and for NZ Musician (here) - that it almost feels indulgent and a touch fanatical to offer more words. Given the lengthy gap between 2007’s excellent Rude Mechanicals and 2016’s equally great Filtered Senses, official album number six (excluding a plethora of fantastic remix releases), Third Light, arrived a lot earlier than many of us had anticipated. All of the usual Pitch Black touchstones are present and accounted for; dubby techno drenched in atmospheric electronic wizardry and bassy production genius, but if there is a slight departure on Third Light it’s that this work feels a little more chilled out and ambient than any past release. ‘One Ton Skank’, ‘Artificial Intolerance’, ‘A Doubtful Sound’, and the title track itself are all up there with the best work Pitch Black has done.

5. Minuit Machine - Infrarouge

Infrarogue ticked so many boxes for me … a little bit retro, a little bit synthpop, and large helpings of the melodramatic dark stuff. Something close to perfect, and I couldn’t get enough of and Helene De Thoury and Amandine Stioui’s unique take on the complexities of modern life. My full review is here.

4. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Ghosteen

Nick Cave has always skirted around the periphery of a lot of music styles and genres I’ve been into over the years, but I’ve never really considered myself a fan. I liked the obvious Murder Ballads-era stuff, and I’ve enjoyed some of his other work over the years, but he’s never really been high on my radar whenever new music has been released. I picked up a copy of Ghosteen just because it was there, and I’d read a lot of mostly positive social media commentary about it. To say that death is the primary theme of Ghosteen would be an understatement, and that’s hardly surprising given Cave’s personal journey and the still obviously raw tragic loss of a teenage son. Words about Jesus, ghosts, the king of rock n roll, stars, horses, and (even) the three bears have never before sounded so vital and fresh. And what a terrific voice that man has … “I’m just waiting now for my time to come, I’m just waiting now for my place in the sun, and I’m just waiting now, for peace to come ...”

3. Antipole - Radial Glare

Antipole topped this list in 2018 with Perspectives, and Karl Morten Dahl returned this year with yet another fine post-punk album in the form of Radial Glare. The retro-fuelled music of Antipole is intoxicating in every way and there’s not a single moment on Radial Glare where I’m not fully engaged. Quite possibly the best thing to come out of Norway since a youthful baby-faced assassin Ole Gunnar Solskjaer started terrifying Premier League defences and banging them in for fun at Manchester United in the mid to late 90s. My full review is here.

2. The National - I Am Easy To Find

I think I must have read or heard just about every criticism possible over the past half dozen years or so when it comes to The National ... you know how it goes: “boring, bland, colour by numbers, white-bread boomer rock” that trades on the reputation of a couple of fine early albums made by the band. Music made by middle aged white men for a fanbase not too far removed from that precise demographic. I’ve heard it all, and yep, critics are entitled to those opinions, whatever their starting point. But they’ll never convince me that’s all there is to it, and every National album across that same period has, to one degree or another, had plenty going for it. Which probably makes me a fan. I certainly fit the aforementioned notional demographic. Unashamedly so. In fact, I Am Easy To Find is the third of three post-2013 National albums to make this blog’s year-end list, and I’d go so far as to suggest it’s the band’s best full-length work since 2010’s High Violet. A fastidiously crafted set of tunes that took me on a warm and familiar journey with each and every listen. The addition of female voices (including choral elements) was a major point of difference from past work, although Matt Berninger’s compelling and emotionally charged baritone remains a highlight, particularly on standout tunes like ‘Oblivions’, ‘The Pull of You’, ‘Hey Rosey’, ‘Light Years’, and ‘Not in Kansas’. With so much going on across its near seven-minute trip, the latter track was something close to the blog’s song of the year ... if there was such a thing (don’t encourage me).

1. VA/On-U Sound - Pay It All Back Volume 7

Oh no! A compilation album! … how can that be? It breaks just about every unwritten rule of year-end reflecting to list a various artist/compilation label sampler as your blog’s album of the year. But who really cares about rules that aren’t written down? This was outstanding. Every bit worthy of the long wait. 23 years after the last release in the renowned Pay It All Back series, Volume 7 exceeded my own expectations in every way. All hail the production virtuosity of the dub master himself, Adrian Sherwood. My full review is here.


Close, but no funny cigar (another ten):

There’s no room on this list for one of my favourite bands, Iceland’s Of Monsters And Men, who released Fever Dream. Each of the band’s two previous albums have featured on this list in past years, but Fever Dream was a disappointment for me, with OMAM having abandoned the mystical and magical in favour of a far more generic stadium-ready sound.

Had Dead Little Penny’s Urge Surfing been released earlier in the year it probably would have made the cut because right now, as at mid-December, it feels like a real grower. Certainly, it’s one of the best local albums of the year in that dark shoegaze-y vibe I love so much.

The Radio Dept’s 2019 “album” I Don’t Need Love, I’ve Got My Band is decent, and I’m a fan of Sweden’s finest, but it’s not really a “new” album, merely a compilation of past work, clumping together two previously released EPs from 2003 and 2005. Worth a listen if The Radio Dept is new to you.

I listened to Ladytron’s self-titled return a fair bit, and loved a lot of it, but it just fell short on account of it not really breaking any new ground. New Ladytron, just like old Ladytron, which, most years, is not a bad thing to be.

Angel Olsen’s All Mirrors is another of those albums that would just as likely have featured more prominently here had it been released earlier in the year. I probably haven’t listened to it enough (yet) but I suspect it’ll be well represented on year-end lists elsewhere. Olsen is one to watch.

Underworld’s Drift series was an ambitious undertaking. I downloaded a job-lot 40-track version which clocks in at nearly six hours. There’s some truly great stuff in there, but that’s a hell of a casual listening exercise, and Drift wasn’t really an album in any traditional sense of the word.

The Raconteurs’ Help Us Stranger was a throwback to a far simpler time. A time when classic rock dinosaurs roamed and ruled. Help Us Stranger showcases Jack White and Brendan Benson’s love of all things 1970s, and it was mostly an enjoyable listening experience. The odd cringeworthy moment excepted.

Prince is no longer with us, but his musical legacy lives on. Originals is a collection of Prince performing songs he wrote for other artists, or at least, those he allowed other artists to release. It cements his status as not only one of his generation’s most underrated songsmiths, but one of the greatest vocalists of the past 40 years.

Foals released two albums in 2019. Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Parts 1 & 2. Released months apart. The earlier release is probably the one to savour, if only for the way it veers into an unlikely synthpop realm, but both are worthwhile efforts and I’m surprised Foals aren’t gaining a lot more commercial traction.

Finally, in terms of albums, Marvin Gaye’s You’re The Man was an interesting release. Recorded between 1969 and 1972, it was originally intended as a follow-up to Gaye’s acclaimed What’s Going On (1971) but was shelved by Motown and remained unreleased until early 2019. I’m a little unclear about whether it was Motown boss Berry Gordy or Gaye himself who pulled its initial release but the fact is, despite some of the content being a little patchy, fans of Gaye, or classic soul, will find a lot to love on You’re The Man.  

Which brings me nicely to reissue of the year: I just can’t go past the 25th anniversary deluxe release of R.E.M.’s Monster (1994). The original album, a remix of the original, a bunch of unreleased demos (mostly instrumentals), and live versions from its era. Monster has always been regarded as something of a black sheep within the band’s canon, but this reissue - especially the remixed album and even some of the unreleased work - brings into clear focus just how good the music of R.E.M. was during the band’s pomp.

EP of the year: Contenders by Contenders. Punk rock out of Hamilton. Everything about this release is short and sharp. Must be played loud, preferably with copious amounts of beer at the ready. A shout out too for the young Wellington electronic artist Miromiro, who released two fine synthwave-y EPs during the year, Toucan and Andreev Bay. I was a big fan also, of Kool Aid’s Family Portrait EP.

Gig of the year: Blam Blam Blam at St Peter’s Hall, Paekakariki. No question. I waited 38 years to see the reformed band play live after seeing a much more youthful version as a youngster myself back in 1981. It’s hard to go past bucket list events like that.

In a similar vein, Beat Rhythm Fashion at Meow was quite special too. Other locals who rocked my world included The Beths at San Fran and Miss June at Meow. Of the international artists who visited these shores, Gang of Four at San Fran was surprisingly good, and a less well attended set at the same venue by the Dub Pistols got my 2019 gig-going year off to a flyer. Herbie Hancock in Wellington was the biggest “name” I saw live, but that particular night was less enjoyable for me, for a number of reasons that I simply don’t have room to expand upon here …  

I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for reading and thanks for supporting everythingsgonegreen in 2019. Wishing you merry festivities and happy holidays. Play safe, and don’t get arrested.


Saturday, March 30, 2019

Album Review: The Specials - Encore (2019)

What an unexpected treat. Brand new material from The Specials after all these years. And in the form of my expanded deluxe version of the album, it comes with a swag of old favourites in a live setting to supplement the new stuff. I can’t really ask for much more than that ...


There’s always a danger such a prolonged hiatus between “official” albums will work against an band, more so when that band is so intrinsically linked with a certain time and place. As The Specials most certainly are. And when that band is missing more than half of its original line-up, well, the task of being relevant and remaining true to its fanbase is especially difficult.

But key foundation personnel Terry Hall, Lynval Golding, and Horace Panter, manage to pull it off with some aplomb on Encore, and the album’s predominant themes - immigration, racism, poverty, urban life, mental health, gun crime, politics, corruption - remain as relevant today as the social issues tackled by the band in the late Seventies and early Eighties.

Plus they get some help, with the indomitable Steve Cradock on guitar, renowned jazz stickman Kenrick Rowe on beats, and much travelled session man Nikolaj Torp Larsen on keys. And of course, there’s the guest vocal appearance of civil rights activist Saffiyah Khan on the reimagined King Tubby classic ‘Ten Commandments’, which she well and truly makes her own.

There’s funk in the form of ‘Black Skin Blue Eyed Boys’, a disco-fied Equals cover, which opens the album, and on ‘BLM’, where Golding’s narrative confronts racism, offering just a few specific examples of the many times he’s been subjected to it over the years.

‘Vote For Me’ and ‘Breaking Point’ are more in the style of the old school ska we’re more used to from The Specials, while ‘The Lunatics’ revisits Hall and Golding’s 1981 Fun Boy Three hit of the same name, and again, it feels even more prescient today - with Brexit, Trump, the rise of right-wing nationalism etc - than it did during the dark days of Thatcher’s regime. If that’s even possible.

The third cover (of the ten “new” tracks on the core album) is an NRA-baiting rejig of ‘Blam Blam Fever’, which was a minor hit in the late Sixties for Jamaican group The Valentines.

Terry Hall’s spoken lament ‘The Life and Times (of a Man Called Depression)’ deals with issues relating to mental health, and it’s probably the best thing here, complete with horns, and an unlikely Doors-referencing keyboard breakdown.

The “bonus” live material comes from two separate gigs, at Le Bataclan (Paris) in 2014, and at The Troxy (London) in 2016. The Paris set includes ‘Gangsters’, ‘A Message To You, Rudy’, ‘Stereotype’, and ‘Ghost Town’, while highlights from the London set include ‘Too Much Too Young’ and a cover of Bob Marley’s ‘Redemption Song’. Plus there’s plenty more.

It’s a veritable feast. The old, the new, the borrowed, and the (chequered) blue. All immaculately packaged and produced for both newcomer and hardcore fan alike. Something close to perfect.

Saturday, December 13, 2014

The Festive Dozen 2014: Koncrete Roots - Guns Don't Argue

I blogged earlier about the Dub-O-Phonic Netlabel when I included Sunjaman in the Festive Dozen, and this mid-year release on the same imprint was another to feature heavily on the various playlists bouncing around my pod. It’s a cut from Rudie Duplates, a wicked little EP containing five previously unreleased Koncrete Roots dubplates … and ‘Guns Don’t Argue’ is a reconfiguring of something from way back, something special and a little crooked …


Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Classic Album Review: The Specials – Specials (1979)

A true classic of the Ska genre, The Specials’ self-titled debut album is a must-have for any serious fan of the ‘Two Tone’ scene, any Eighties retro freak, or indeed, for any keen student of the recent social history of multicultural Britain.

The end of the Seventies in the UK was a period of much political upheaval and social unrest, with an unprecedented number of race riots and a generally disorientated populace about to embark on a decade of gruelling Thatcher rule. Whether or not The Specials deliberately set about sound-tracking the widespread collective disaffection of those bleak days is perhaps a moot point, the album has subsequently gone on to become both representative and synonymous with that period of British history. Call it a right time and place thing.
 
Given the multiracial make-up of the seven-strong Specials, not to mention much of the album’s subject matter – politics, the establishment, violence, identity, and race – it could even be argued that this is a release of major cultural, political, and social significance. Not only is it the sound of young Britain on the very cusp of major change, it is the sound of urban Coventry and of the suburban Midlands, and just as likely the sound of hundreds upon thousands of lost communities and decaying inner city housing estates everywhere.

Either that, or it’s just a damned good dance record.

Heavily informed by the rich archives of Desmond Dekker, Prince Buster, and the like, Messrs Dammers, Hall and co pretty much had their unique party/protest groove sussed right from the start; combining the working class energy and DIY ethos of Punk, with the freshly imported vibrant new sounds of old Jamaica, mixing it together with a little bit of social commentary, throwing in the odd pinch of anger, before stomping and stirring vigorously, and heating thoroughly to well beyond boiling point.

That, give or take the odd ingredient, was roughly the recipe for a serious Ska/Rude Boy revival in the late Seventies/early Eighties, the so-called second wave, and despite the scene’s relative brevity (the seminal ‘Two Tone’ label floundered badly in the Eighties after initially providing the breakthrough vehicle for not only The Specials, but also Madness, The Beat, and many others), the hybrid sounds of Jamaican dancehall and English street remain surprisingly fresh and just as relevant coming up for 35-odd years later.
 

" ... don't call me Ska-face"
 
All of the best Specials tracks can be found on this one, with the exception of ‘Ghost Town’ (released a couple of years down the line), and one or two other key numbers from the darker and rather more eclectic follow-up album, More Specials.

Key tracks include: ‘Message To You Rudy’, ‘Concrete Jungle’, ‘Monkey Man’, ‘Too Much Too Young’, ‘Gangsters’ (the successful lead single), and ‘You’re Wondering Now’, but more generally there’s not really a bad track on the debut.

A staple of the immediate post-punk years, the band imploded some three or four years later, branching off into the more commercially flavoured Fun Boy Three (including lead vocalist Terry Hall) and the politically motivated and equally socially conscious Special AKA (featuring Jerry Dammers).

Here's 'Gangsters'



 

Sunday, May 15, 2011

List: 10 Great Gigs

 
Ten exceptional gigs spanning three full decades from 1981 to 2010. I’ve restricted this list to specific concerts, deliberately omitting DJ gigs/sets and performances that were part of a summer festival weekend or any event featuring a multitude of bands. This was originally posted on:  http://croymusicmiscellany.com/

1 New Order – Town Hall, Wellington, New Zealand, 1987

Synthetic Goodness
By 1987 New Order were big news, and the band’s reach had extended well beyond its Manc roots all the way across several oceans to little old New Zealand. Most of that was due to a dancefloor stomper called Blue Monday having already taken its rightful place as the best selling 12-inch single of all-time, but more generally the band’s popularity had been cemented by the release of four exceptional albums over the course of the preceding six years. The band’s February ’87 gig was my first at the Wellington Town Hall, and it coincided with New Order enjoying the coveted status of my “latest fave band”. I arrived sufficiently early to get a prime standing spot centre-left and just two rows of bodies back. As I recall it, the sound was perfect – crisp, clear, and state of the art. More memorably, it was also the night I fell hopelessly in love with keyboardist Gillian Gilbert – albeit a temporary condition. Gillian isn’t a “beauty” in any conventional sense but that night on stage, almost within touching distance (easy there tiger!), she was the queen of gothic cool personified, teasing me with her relative detachment and her nonchalant control of the electronic rig of synthetic goodness that surrounded her. I can also recall being quite impressed with bassist Peter Hook on one of the rare occasions I dared look away from Gillian for more than a few seconds. Nearly a quarter of a century and dozens upon dozens of concerts later, I can’t for the life of me remember a single track the band played that night but I just know all of the classics (to that point) were covered, all of the boxes were ticked, and I left the venue convinced that I’d just witnessed New Order performing at the absolute peak of its powers – which, with the benefit of hindsight, was very much the case.

2 The Specials – Logan Campbell Centre, Auckland, New Zealand, 2009

Extra Special
There are some gigs you go to on a last minute whim, some you go to simply because of the current hype surrounding a particular artist or band, others you attend because friends convince you that it would be a good excuse for night out ... and then there are those you’ve waited your whole life for and you just know that you’ll never get another chance unless you make the commitment nice and early. The Specials gig in Auckland back in 2009 fell into the latter category for yours truly. A once in a lifetime opportunity to see a band that had never before performed in New Zealand, a band I’d admired from a (long) distance for the best part of 30 years, and one that will surely never cross my path ever again. Suffice to say I snapped up three tickets as soon as they went on sale, applied for a “long weekend away” clearance from “she who must be obeyed”, and invited two of my oldest and closest pals to join me on a (1200km return) roadtrip of ‘Fear and Loathing’ proportions. As it turned out, the masterplan was executed to perfection ... for the best part of 48 hours, three 40-something Rude Boys from way back indulged in the sort of wanton debauchery that would have had even Hunter S Thompson reaching for the industrial strength Nurofen. The band didn’t disappoint on the night; from the outset it became a journey into “greatest hits” territory and I’m fairly certain every single track from the acclaimed self-titled debut album got an airing, as well as several others from the More Specials follow-up. The perennially grumpy Terry Hall looked somewhat heavier and worse for wear but his voice remained as distinctive as ever. Co-vocalist Neville Staple was a ball of energy throughout, but the real key to a phenomenal Specials performance was that sublime rhythm section. The only downsides were the venue’s poor acoustics, and the fact that a certain Mr Jerry Dammers missed the tour. But this was the nostalgia circuit after all, and we’d learned a long time ago that we can’t always have everything.

3 BB King – Royal Concert Hall, Glasgow, Scotland, 1994

BB & Lucille
I remember getting into some trouble for not taking my soon-to-be-wife to this particular gig on account of the fact that I “didn’t think she’d be into it” ... or just plain “didn’t think” (you decide!). If memory serves, this was part of a wider Glasgow International Arts Festival taking place at the time, and I went with a work colleague from the hotel I worked at. I recall being in awe of the venue itself but that was offset by the fact that we were sitting down throughout. Suffice to say I was a little frustrated, but the sound quality was fantastic. BB King (85) toured NZ last month to mixed/poor reviews so I guess I was quite lucky to see the Blues Legend at the relatively young age of 68. I actually hadn’t anticipated this gig being quite so funky (James Brown-esque to the point of King’s on-stage entourage including a dedicated dancer – almost a JB-lookalike – improvising on all of the Godfather’s best shuffles) but such is King’s range and versatility I really shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a special night of classic Blues, Gospel, and pure unadulterated Soul at its very best. And oh man, what a guitarist!

4 Black Uhuru – Town Hall, Wellington, New Zealand, 2003

Pocket Dynamo Rose
Okay, so this wasn’t strictly Black Uhuru, but it was as close as it gets – original vocalist Michael Rose, along with the sensational ‘riddim twins’ Sly Dunbar (drums) and Robbie Shakespeare (bass) – and the set-list played like a “best of” Black Uhuru. Rose had been replaced as Black Uhuru’s vocalist by one Junior Reid in the mid-Eighties, but it is Rose’s superior voice that dominates the band’s best material. If you’ve never seen Sly ‘n’ Robbie live, close up and in the flesh, then I’d contend your musical education isn’t complete – this was exhibition stuff by two of the finest musicians ever to grace a stage in New Zealand. As for the pint-sized Michael Rose ... the pocket jack-in-the-box gave what must surely have been one of his best ever vocal performances – covering virtually all of Black Uhuru’s “hits” and a number of other key genre standards. Aside from the seriously sweet smells permeating the Town Hall that night, my abiding memory of this gig is an extended version of the classic Party in Session, which just seemed to go on and on ... and actually summed the night up perfectly.

5 David Bowie – Athletic Park, Wellington, New Zealand, 1983

Fashion & Infamy
David Bowie was a genuine hero for me by the time he came to NZ in late 1983 as part of his ‘Serious Moonlight’ World tour, but I now fully appreciate that I was about ten years too late in terms of seeing him in his prime. By ’83 of course he was at his commercial peak (Let’s Dance was a global smash) but a mere shadow of the artist that bestrode the Seventies like a colossus. This was bottle blonde Bowie in a flash white suit, churning out generic disco for the masses, looking – from a “creative” perspective at least – for all the world like yesterday’s man. He was cashing in, and very much on auto pilot, but I still enjoyed the sense of occasion, the outdoor event, that this gig presented. It was Bowie, and even if he only played Life on Mars (which he did) I was going to be there to witness it. Then again, “enjoy” and “witness” might be stretching it ... this gig also triggered my own personal ‘Christiane F’ moment. What else do you call collapsing in a heap after vomiting all over your 16-year-old punkette girlfriend’s carefully and lovingly prepared barnet just as Bowie kicked off? ... probably not the high point of our already tempestuous relationship. That said, I do recall the two support bands – NZ’s own Dance Exponents and Oz new wavers The Models – were nothing less than brilliant ... in addition to Life on Mars. Perhaps it was Bowie’s horrendous suit that made me do it? Maybe it was the vodka? Regardless, it was kind of fitting, and surely a boy is allowed one little mistake? – apparently so, we continued to fight for the next two years before push met shove. But none of that is important, this gig makes the list simply because it was my first truly big “concert”.

6 U2 – Celtic Park, Glasgow, Scotland, 1993

His Lordship
I’d been living in Glasgow (or Coatbridge) just a matter of weeks by the time the juggernaut that was U2’s Zoo TV tour rolled into town in the summer of 1993. I wasn’t a massive U2 fan by any stretch but for whatever reason I found myself attending both gigs U2 performed at the hallowed football stadium in Glasgow’s east end – on successive days, a Saturday and a Sunday. As such the gigs tend to blend into one, with support acts on either day including PJ Harvey, Utah Saints, and Stereo MCs – though quite who played when remains unclear in my befuddled head nearly two decades on. I’d never before seen anything quite like this – a massive stage with all sorts of structural/visual aids, giant television sets for live video link-ups etc (did Bono really call Sarajevo or somewhere mid-concert?). Again this rates more as an event for me rather than anything specific to the music, or the quality thereof. U2 was clearly at the height of its popularity – quite probably the biggest band on the planet at the time – and to some extent the big stage funk and all of the excitement surrounding it won me over sufficiently for me to start collecting the band’s back catalogue. Not that it gets much of an airing these days.

7 Laurie Anderson – Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington, New Zealand, 1986

Life Lessons with Laurie
If I thought U2 presented a state of the art concert in 1993 (and they did), I don’t quite know how to adequately describe Laurie Anderson’s gig at Wellington’s sedate Michael Fowler Centre in 1986. This was part of the Wellington Festival of the Arts – an annual (?) month long arts extravaganza sorely missed today. It wasn’t so much a music concert as a “life lessons” lecture involving a projector, slides (that’s a bit like MS Powerpoint, kids), electric violins, synthesisers, vocoders (see auto tune), and a whole swag of other electronic wizardry. And it was about as intimate a concert experience as I’ve ever had – Laurie was so open to discussing her life story I half expected “any questions from the floor?” at the conclusion of her set. I felt I got to know her, and it isn’t often you can say that about a so-called popular music artist after just a couple of hours in their company. But there was music aplenty as well, some classical, and some weird excuse for what might loosely be described as “pop”. What a shame most know her as either “that chick that did O Superman” or as “Lou Reed’s missus”. Rock on Laurie!

8 Paul Weller – The Powerstation, Auckland, New Zealand, 2010

Waking Up Auckland
Paul Weller the solo artist, Paul Weller the Legend. Unlike the Specials gig a year earlier, the Weller gig in Auckland was not part of the nostalgia circuit. This wasn’t about an artist coming to NZ for the first time simply to play his oldest and greatest hits. It was all about Paul Weller – living, vibrant, and contemporary – arriving to play his current material and perhaps also to delve deep into the past depending on how the mood took him. That’s the benefit of being active as a recording artist, of being relevant, and of having more than a couple of albums to draw from. However, like the Specials, Weller is another artist I’d waited forever to see live. In the end Weller mixed things up nicely – tracks from his 2010 album Wake Up The Nation dominating the set-list alongside several other key solo career gems, Jam classics like That’s Entertainment and A Town Called Malice, but surprisingly very little from his Style Council period. The Powerstation is probably the best live venue in New Zealand and its comfortable environs – despite being sold out – certainly added to my enjoyment of the night, as did the fact that my beloved and I were finally able to enjoy an overdue night out in the big smoke.

9 Split Enz – Sports Stadium, Palmerston North, New Zealand, 1981

Kiwi Legends
When they write the definitive tome on the history of popular music in New Zealand there will be an entire chapter (if not several) devoted to Split Enz and its wider influence through the Seventies and Eighties. And not just because the band spawned the monster that eventually became Neil Finn’s Crowded House, but because Split Enz was the first Kiwi band (of my lifetime) to produce wholly original material that sold by the truckload (locally). The band’s 1980 album, True Colours, also happened to provide the very fluorescent soundtrack to my final year of high school. When Split Enz came to my (old) home town of “palmy” in 1981 I was barely out of school uniform so this has to rate as my first serious gig. For the uninitiated it is difficult to describe quite what Split Enz sound like – they started out as quirky prog weirdos before morphing into mainstays of NZ’s new wave scene, finally running out of gas by the mid Eighties when the Finn brothers split and started to do their own projects. For me, Split Enz rate as NZ’s number one “pop” act of all-time, and I count myself very lucky to have witnessed the band performing at its peak. But wait, there’s more ... the support band at this gig was a certain Blam Blam Blam, a band whose flame flickered brightly but all too briefly, another with a strong personal connection to yours truly. I hope to rave about the “great lost Kiwi bands” in more detail sometime in the future on CMM, and Blam Blam Blam will just as likely provide the backbone to that piece. Put simply, the Blams were sensational on the night in question, and just quietly, may have even overshadowed the main act.

10 Swervedriver – King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut, Glasgow, Scotland, 1993

Duel Single
I’m now wondering how Swervedriver manage to scrape into my top 10 at the expense of luminaries like Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Massive Attack, Womack & Womack, and um, the Stray Cats, but sometimes a gig is more about the venue and the night itself; the sense of adventure rather than the artist up on stage. And to be fair, we’re talking about the low ebb 1986 version of Bob Dylan in this instance, and all of the others were irretrievably flawed gigs for reasons best not gone into here. So Swervedriver make the cut. When you’re a stranger in a “foreign” city you tend to gravitate to places you feel most comfortable and in terms of my own two years living in Glasgow there are two places that loom large in the memory bank – the aforementioned Celtic Park on match day, and the renowned King Tut’s venue which was practically – and most conveniently – a mere stone’s throw from my inner city dwelling. King Tut’s became a semi regular haunt in the months that followed but I’ll always recall with fondness my first visit there. Swervedriver were shoegaze survivors enjoying a period of relative success thanks to a monumental track called Duel riding high in the indie charts at the time; I wasn’t a huge fan but I absolutely loved Duel and I’ll never forget being part of the sweaty heaving throng on the compressed King Tut’s dancefloor when the opening bars of that track roared into life. It is just a small thing but recall of that moment remains crystal clear, and for a few weeks afterwards the Swervedriver gig was all I talked about. It was a short-lived love affair with that particular band, but King Tut’s had won me over for the duration. So much so, every subsequent visit to Glasgow has seen me buying the latest edition of a publication called ‘The List’ in the hope that I’ll find another excuse to return to King Tut’s.