Concorde 2, Brighton, Wed 4th
May
The Long Ryders weren't necessarily the
best band from the Paisley Underground scene.
(I'd probably plump for Green on Red if
we were giving gold medals.) But that probably bigs up the scene
rather than diminishes the band, it was hard to stand tall when
surrounded by giants. Because they were a darn good band, and perhaps
even the most archetypal of that scene in that they played the
concept the most straight. It's recipe proved a potent one; Sixties
psychedelia mixed with Sixties country rock – Creedence Clearwater
Revival revived – with a dose of punk energy. Their songs served up
tales of outlaws, unemployed drifters and guys just out of jail with
thumping hooks and aching melodies.
Perhaps by that point American music
had come to seem novel all over again. Perhaps to us Brits it felt
rootsy and exotic at the same time. And perhaps it seemed a fitting
antidote to replace post-punk. Whichever, by the mid-Eighties long
macs and serious expressions had fairly rapidly been replaced by
pudding basin haircuts, tasselled jackets and cowboy boots. Rocking
out replaced studied cool. (Despite studied cool having been devised
to replace rocking out in the first place. We were a fickle bunch.)
Besides post-punk was almost
auto-innoculated against becoming genuinely popular; the Desperate
Bicycles, Josef K and Throbbing Gristle were never going to become
household names. People were supposed to not get
it, that was part of the point. Whereas these guys felt like they
could step from tearing up your local venue to rocking out 'Top
of the Pops'. The Paisley Underground could manage a
Paisley takeover.
Alas that was never to be. Only the
Bangles became a hit band, and they did it by transfusing into a pop
outfit. And with mission unaccomplished the scene soon fell apart.
The Long Ryders didn't ride for long, a mere five years separating
their first release from their last.
And things seem to have languished in
obscurity since then. Despite the notion that now nothing gets
forgotten, a flick through the internet suggests that many of the
scene's best albums aren't widely available any more. Notably most of
the audience seemed to be my age or (gasp) older, like they'd not
attracted any new fans since their day. (And male. It was one of
those gigs with a long queue for the Gents and none for the Ladies.)
And yet they're one of those bands who
can stop for years, then pick up just where they left off. They might
not be as energetic as times past, frontman Sid Griffin now has a
cup-of-tea roadie and trouble reading the setlist without his
glasses. But the music still packs the same
punch.
Seeing them live, it becomes clear that
what makes them is the combination of Sid Griffin and Stephen
McCarthy. While Griffin's roughhandedly rambunctious, unabashed in
leading the audience into call-and-response singalongs, McCarthy is
more reserved, more melodic, more lyrical. One twangs, one jangles.
It's even there in the way they're dressed, Griffin in braces and
jeans while McCarthy is jacketed. It's like the difference between
Micky Dolenz and Davey Jones. (Well, everything gets compared to the
Beatles and Stones. Why not the Monkees?) Of the two, I prefer
McCarthy. But the point is that the combination is virtuous.
The band now have a box set collection
of their releases, 'Final Wild Songs'. (Though not
available at the gig for some reason.) Hopefully somewhere between
that and this tour they'll start to be remembered the way they
should.
Let's try and prove by point by posting
both a McCarthy and a Griffin clip. Mcarthy's 'Ivory
Tower' from Valencia...
...and Grifin's foot-stompin'
'Looking for Lewis and Clarke' from Madrid... (I
don't know why they're both from Spain.)
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