Friday, June 17, 2011
Heaven Tonight
Just as with bus services, heavy rock leviathans may be few and far between and then several come along at once. Despite the original hopes of another recently seen band filling the support slot, there's a change of plan somewhere down the line and this is a new one on me.
Plead The Fifth come from LA and play the sort of pop-punk you'd associate with something like Green Day, but with a lead guitarist who looks like Dave Hill by way of Angus Young, a bass player who looks like a very young Tom Robinson by way of Robyn Hitchcock and a singer who seems to know what he's doing I guess they might turn out something remarkable. For me, anything in that area of sub-genre has to compete with the flawless China Drum and they hardly match them yet.
Legend is a word that has been devalued repeatedly in recent years, and yet every now and then something rolls into town that resets the bar at a level most others can only aspire to. The last time something rocked me sideways to this extent might be the first time I saw Y&T, the last time I saw The Posies or the first time I saw Europe - all of them acts of multi-decade longevity, and household names to people who know what they are talking about musicwise. And to that list I now add another band I wasn't a particular fan of and who largely for that reason managed to give me a colossally pleasant suprise of the stunning live music kind.
After the cartoon-based fun of the previous weekend, I'm amused that the intro clips tape includes Homer Simpson saying 'I'd rather listen to Cheap Trick' and then Apu repeating a couple of lines from Dream Police, and then with a voice announcing 'the best fucking band in the world', Cheap Trick take the stage.
Rick Nielsen strides on like an affable uncle who's way old enough to know better, and with his son Daxx on the drums and Tom Petersson on the bass, the line up is complete enough to start playing around the intro to Just Got Back before Robin Zander steps up to the mike just in time for his first vocal line. With the keyboard player slightly hidden, there's nevertheless a mighty depth and serious melodic weight to the live sound. For now, Nielsen is playing a mere six strings, but both zander and Petersson are playing twelve, double string rhythm guitar and treble string bass respectively.
With a glittering brocade embroidered jacket and a sheriff's star leather cap that fools nobody - and hey, my hair's going the same way - Zander looks every inch the Rock Star with a capital \M/ and with that voice it's only right. Tonight Tom Petersson is the coolest man in rock, with a smile wider than the Bristol Channel and a clear delight just at being on that stage.
It's Nielsen's show though, with a range of jerky gestures and mannerisms that kinda bring to mind Suggs' nutty boy antics with a touch more theatrical verve, he prowls and bounces around the stage, throws enough plectrums into the crowd to put local musician's supplies outlets out of business for a couple of years, oh and there's a total mastery of his ever-changing guitar too. Whether it's playing the solo with just his fretting hand or strumming along with a thumb before reaching for yet another from his mike stand of a thousand plectrums, it's pop-rock corker after hard rock smash after powerpop belter that has me bouncing around like I'm seventeen again.
There's a brief break in proceedings as the euro fan club main man gets called up on stage to say a few words, calling some woman up on the stage to join him - Nielsen 'get on your fucking knees, man' and as he goes to say his piece Zander gets involved, re-adjusting the mike stand to the appropriate height. It's not quite the loudest noise of the night as the now bride-to-be says 'yes' and has the proffered ring put on her finger, but it's close.
And then it's back to the business of rocking, caught in between a number of festival appearances across Europe this festival season, this might well turn out to be their most intimate appearance this side of the Atlantic this summer. In equal turns intimate and bombastic, tenderly touching and aggressive, and sonically perfect throughout, this is live music as it's meant to be, committed, complete, perfect.
Ordinarily, the day after the gig, that band's music disappears off my mp3 player to be replaced with the next lot. My small collection of Cheap Trick albums are all still on there.
_
Plead The Fifth come from LA and play the sort of pop-punk you'd associate with something like Green Day, but with a lead guitarist who looks like Dave Hill by way of Angus Young, a bass player who looks like a very young Tom Robinson by way of Robyn Hitchcock and a singer who seems to know what he's doing I guess they might turn out something remarkable. For me, anything in that area of sub-genre has to compete with the flawless China Drum and they hardly match them yet.
Legend is a word that has been devalued repeatedly in recent years, and yet every now and then something rolls into town that resets the bar at a level most others can only aspire to. The last time something rocked me sideways to this extent might be the first time I saw Y&T, the last time I saw The Posies or the first time I saw Europe - all of them acts of multi-decade longevity, and household names to people who know what they are talking about musicwise. And to that list I now add another band I wasn't a particular fan of and who largely for that reason managed to give me a colossally pleasant suprise of the stunning live music kind.
After the cartoon-based fun of the previous weekend, I'm amused that the intro clips tape includes Homer Simpson saying 'I'd rather listen to Cheap Trick' and then Apu repeating a couple of lines from Dream Police, and then with a voice announcing 'the best fucking band in the world', Cheap Trick take the stage.
Rick Nielsen strides on like an affable uncle who's way old enough to know better, and with his son Daxx on the drums and Tom Petersson on the bass, the line up is complete enough to start playing around the intro to Just Got Back before Robin Zander steps up to the mike just in time for his first vocal line. With the keyboard player slightly hidden, there's nevertheless a mighty depth and serious melodic weight to the live sound. For now, Nielsen is playing a mere six strings, but both zander and Petersson are playing twelve, double string rhythm guitar and treble string bass respectively.
With a glittering brocade embroidered jacket and a sheriff's star leather cap that fools nobody - and hey, my hair's going the same way - Zander looks every inch the Rock Star with a capital \M/ and with that voice it's only right. Tonight Tom Petersson is the coolest man in rock, with a smile wider than the Bristol Channel and a clear delight just at being on that stage.
It's Nielsen's show though, with a range of jerky gestures and mannerisms that kinda bring to mind Suggs' nutty boy antics with a touch more theatrical verve, he prowls and bounces around the stage, throws enough plectrums into the crowd to put local musician's supplies outlets out of business for a couple of years, oh and there's a total mastery of his ever-changing guitar too. Whether it's playing the solo with just his fretting hand or strumming along with a thumb before reaching for yet another from his mike stand of a thousand plectrums, it's pop-rock corker after hard rock smash after powerpop belter that has me bouncing around like I'm seventeen again.
There's a brief break in proceedings as the euro fan club main man gets called up on stage to say a few words, calling some woman up on the stage to join him - Nielsen 'get on your fucking knees, man' and as he goes to say his piece Zander gets involved, re-adjusting the mike stand to the appropriate height. It's not quite the loudest noise of the night as the now bride-to-be says 'yes' and has the proffered ring put on her finger, but it's close.
And then it's back to the business of rocking, caught in between a number of festival appearances across Europe this festival season, this might well turn out to be their most intimate appearance this side of the Atlantic this summer. In equal turns intimate and bombastic, tenderly touching and aggressive, and sonically perfect throughout, this is live music as it's meant to be, committed, complete, perfect.
Ordinarily, the day after the gig, that band's music disappears off my mp3 player to be replaced with the next lot. My small collection of Cheap Trick albums are all still on there.
Labels: Cheap Trick, gigs, Plead The Fifth
