TELEVISION
De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill,
Tues 14th June
Television came from the Seventies New
York punk scene, with guitarist/vocalist Tom Verlaine frequently
playing with Patti Smith. And indeed it's that thar punk music played
on the PA before they emerge. But they were always a strange fit even
for that strange scene, misfits among the misfits, a chess move from
their surroundings. Much like the Velvet Underground before them,
it's much easier to see their influence on what followed (Talking
Heads, the less noise-based end of Sonic Youth, British post-punk
bands such as Wire) than anything before or around them. I always
liked the idea they were named after the term 'far seeing' rather
than the goggle box. (Though admittedly I've no idea whether that's
true or not.)
It was Mark Radcliffe who commented they were like a string quartet who happenedto use rock instruments. Rather than ploughing the familiar
furrows of lead guitar/ rhythm section, the players intersect in
ever-shifting combinations. With guitar solos I normally only want to
know when they're over. But Television's extended instrumental breaks
are so interactive they become the main draw.
Of course they don't conform to the
cartoon punk image, as taken up by the Ramones. But neither do they
sound much like friend or collaborator Patti Smith. Her music's
convulsive, orgiastic. While with Television there's no power chords,
no fuzz, echo or distortion, the overall sound is clean.
However, if all that makes them sound
like pointy heads making music with set squares and protractors,
they're as equally possessed of a keen melodic sense. Like Verlaine's
voice the music's sharp but lilting, lively and spacious. A track
like 'Marquee Moon' is a catchy pop number and
free-form space-out at one and the same time.
It's slightly hard to tell whether the
band's a going concern or not. But then it always has been. After a
lengthy pre-history, they peaked with their debut – the celebrated
'Marquee Moon' - in 1977, and since then have been
waiting for everyone else to catch up. They've only released two
studio albums since then.
Live there's no backdrop or rock and
roll theatrics. Belying the notion New Yorkers are natural showmen
Verlaine's an unassuming figure, most of what he does say lost to
audience cheer. Following Radcliffe's string quartet comparison, it
wasn't entirely dissimilar to seeing the Kronos Quartet. They're so adept at playing together,
it makes for an enthralling live experience. I found I could only
focus on each player's individual contribution by framing my vision
on the player, otherwise all the ingredients go into a greater whole.
It was perhaps an eccentric set list,
in both good ways and bad. We heard no 'See No Evil',
while there was a track or two which didn't really make up for its
absence. But for forty year old band with no new record, there were a
surprising number of surprises. There was a long, slightly
psychedelic piece in the middle of the show, which I'd gather is
called 'Persia', which while appearing on none of
their albums (not even live releases) audaciously stretched to twenty
minutes as Verlane bowed his guitar. Tracks would often build from
scratchy, freeform intros, and rarely be performed just the way they
did on record. You left thinking that forty years later they still
sounded unique...
You'll know what this is. From San
Francisco...
...then the next night...
PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED
Concorde 2, Brighton, Wed 15th June
Three years ago, in
this very venue I saw the recently reincarnated Public Image Limited. And predicted the new line-up wouldn't last long
under the weight of John Lydon's ego. Yet Lydon seems constantly able
to surprise you, sometimes even pleasantly, that new line-ups still
here and I am glad to be proven wrong.
With more new material under their
belt, they're noticeably including less old stuff than ever. Jah Wobble must have played more numbers, despite only being in the band for two albums. And much
of what they do play is quite radically reworked. 'Open Up',
the track Lydon made with Leftfield, is all but
transformed. While another uses the Swan Lake guitar part from
'Death Disco', but is to all intents and purposes
a whole new song.
One old number which is retained is
'Albatross'. That the opening track from the
seminal 'Metal Box' has been used as the opener
both time I've seen the new PiL sounds like a statement of intent.
The first time around, the references to “getting rid of the
albatross” and “I know you very well”,delivered like the most
withering put-down, sounded like a refusal to conform to anyone's
post-Pistols expectations. Repeated it becomes like a credo, an
avowal to never sit still but continue pressing forward. And the set
end, morphing from 'Open Up', into the Tourette's
syndrome abuse attack of 'Shoom' - suggesting age
hasn't mellowed the man much.
It also suggests that Lydon's a keen
judge of his own back catalogue, at least when looking at it in
retrospect. In his time he's fostered as much shit on the gullible
public as Lou Reed. Yet like Lou Reed, ultimately he knew when he was
swinging it and winging it. Whole swathes of band history are
eliminated, and while there's things you'd have liked to have heard
nothing is included you wish hadn't. 'This Is Not a Love
Song', though not from a favoured era, is a justifiably
classic track.
And it all works because the band work
as a band. Lydon often gesticulates at the
musicians behind him, like some slightly demented conductor. But
while in times past he's been content to hire a backing band for the
Face of Punk, this lot are clearly a functioning unit.
It does at times feel a little less
savage, a little more showy, than last time. Like they've got better
in the un-punk sense of more accomplished and professional, and less
edgy. Certainly 'Religion', which had previously
reached white-heat intensity, becomes a black-comedy number with
stream-of-consciousness rants. But the band still being here, still
pressing forward, counts as an achievement.
Speaking of 'Albatross',
slooow moootiooon from Sheffield...
LIFT TO EXPERIENCE
Royal Festival Hall, London,
Fri 10th June
When main main Josh T Pearson emerges
clutching an electric guitar someone shouts “Judas!” at him.
“You're a liar,” he quickly quips back.
The point being... Lift to Experience
released the seminal 'Texas Jerusalem Crossroads'
fifteen years ago. But their debut turned out to be their only
release, Pearson swapped it's amped-up noise for acoustic music and was last seen around these parts playing country gospel at a church inBrighton. That gig came with gags about how broke he was,
so reasons for the reformation may not be entirely uneconomic. But
it's a rare chance to hear these classic tracks live, and the Royal
Festival Hall is nigh-on full.
The electricity is not only back, the
music packs such a punch you can feel it on your chest, the drummer
often striking the skins with full arm strokes. But a better term
than loud or heavy would be expansive. Texas-based
and keen to tell you, they make music the size of their home state.
Plus there's something of a psychedelic undercurrent. In their own
way they're as sense-deranging as early Pink Floyd. When I first
heard the band, inevitably enough for the era on the John Peel show,
he compared them a spatial disorientation technique.
Yet combined with post-rock workouts
and free noise there's classic songwriting. (Things often thought to
be mutually exclusive.) Music and lyrics may both be summed up by the
reference on 'These Are the Days' to “that great
trumpet sound”. (Even though there's not a trumpet, great or small,
to be found.) It draws on the wild apocalyptic imagery of American
Christianity. Some songs even sound like they may be based on
Pentecostal hymns.
It's a tradition which seems so foreign
to us English it might as well come from a different religion, fiery
revelation replacing announcements about village fates. But rather
than the nihilism, darkness or derangement religious themes usually
bring out in bands, for example Swans, it's – pun intended – elevating. Contrary to Hank Williams,
perhaps we will be getting out of this world alive.
And yet at the same time they slam you
in the gut the tracks have a twinkle in their eye. Borrowinga phrase previously used for Goat, it's bironic, the
references to six-shootin' angels and promises of the promised land
delivered with with tongue-in-cheek sincerity it's impossible to
parse. (Pearson has said his Father was a Baptist preacher.)
But his greatest talent may well be
compositional dynamics. The standard problem with the end of the
world is that it doesn't leave you many places to go. (Creatively
speaking, though I guess the problem applies in general.) If you come
in with a big bang, what are you going to go out with? Yet Pearson
can shift expertly between humungous soundscapes, shimmeringly
beautiful ballads and aural-assualt noise, making you feel at every
turn that the end of all things is just getting started.
I never saw the band back in the day,
so don't have anything to compare them to, but they seem able to put
the numbers over with full force and conviction. Backing vocals,
sounding on record like they've been recorded by Pearson himself then
overdubbed, disappear – and you kind of miss them. Plus there could
have been space for another number with less banter, something
Pearson confessed was down to lack of rehearsal time. But those are
minor quibbles. Like the man says, it's never too late for the end of
the world.
'These Are the Days'
from their home turf of Denton, Texas, with that awesome ascending
opening...
...plus the opening from the RFH (yes, the actual gig!) complete with "Judas!" exchange...
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