Live

Rip It Up, Issue 83, 1 June 1984, Page 28

Live

Peter Tait

Joe Cocker Logan Campbell Centre, May 29. Frankly we didn't really want to go. Cocker's last concert here - in 'B2 - had been a pretty lacklustre affair: his voice only just coping and the band too stodgy for,the (then) new Sheffield Steel songs. But what a transformation! Joe’s team delivered one of the most satisfying sets this reviewer's ears, hands or feet have pounded to for a very long time. So what's changed? Firstly there was a rejuvenated band, particularly with, new rhythm duo, which gave such a lift to every number. The drummer was powerful and driving without getting heavy-handed. The bassist, rather than simply nail things down, added a complexity and excitement that was exhilirating. His lines refreshed even the oldest songs (and the solo in "Hitchcock Railroad could well be the finest display.of 'finger-popping' I'll ever see). Then there were the arrangements: so rich, subtle, expansive and so very supportive. Add these to the excellent choice of songs and Cocker’s gravelly vocals had a superb setting. But don't underrate Joe's own contribution. To him for example, must be ascribed the responsibility for the’ show's pacing. And it takes a brave soul to choose three . out of four consecutive songs as ballads midset. especially given the vociferous Play some rawkenroll!' element in the audience. Yet he triumphed. The Inner City Blues' tribute to Marvin Gaye was particularly beautiful. But Little Help...' aside Cocker wasn't punishing his voice the way he has on past tours. Their was almost a sense of control about his singing, in keeping with the trimmer hair.

physique and less manic gesturing. Cocker's been at this game for fifteen . years now and has an extensive repertoire: . fine new songs, a wealth of cover versions and an armful of his own classics. With band and back-up singers in such form, whatever the selection he'd made would have been a delight. (Even the vapid 'You Are So Beautiful' sounded good.) Over the past years there have been as many ways to describe Joe Cocker in concert as he has done tours. This one was simply magnificent. Peter Thomson

Verlaines, Able Tasmans Windsor. May 19. Given even the diverse nature of the crowd that had crammed in to hear the Verlaines, it was inevitable that a large percentage would find the Able Tasmans appealing. Swirling, soulful keyboards, fast dance songs, wholly appropriate covers of I'm A Man' and Peter Gunn Theme' - even a rendition of the theme from Closeup. Real neat fun. But there's another side developing to this three-piece. Graham Humphries sings some strange, dark little .songs with more than a hint of the Magazine in them. It will be interesting to see when whether the Able Tasmans reach the limits of the drums bass organ .format but thus far they managed to move on’without losing their sense of tun. If they can keep that up. well

This was the third time I'd seen the current Verlaines lineup and each occasion has been better than the last. Twixt the opening chord and the final encore they created a feeling that welled and surged. A lot of people danced, some stood or sat and watched, a few left. Not much space for socialising in this music.

On conventional critical grounds the Verlaines might be marked down for not putting an effort into presentation - on the contrary, as someone said, the Verlaines are a band who try very hard. When they play well, they're pushing it. When it doesn't come off their

approach can manifest itself as awkwardness or mere earnestness but them's’ the breaksTJSBBE^BB

And another thing - "Death and the Maiden doesn't particularly stand Out in the set. .'Joed Out', . Doomsday', 'Pyromaniac' and a number of others produced at least as much of a charge. The Verlaines do work very much within a sound but it's more to do with continuity than repetition. . An emotional cacophony - the Verlaines really are quite an extreme band. Russell Brown

Empire Queen's Birthday Party Verlaines, the Rip, Love in a Gas Oven, Pink Plastic Gods Empire, June 4.

This afternoon session marked the third and last Empire party. In August proprietors John and Maureen Simpson vacate the pub, which over the past three years has been the only hotel in the city to consistently offer alternative entertainment.

It was a nice touch, then, that the Verlaines, a band who two and a half years ago were playing to little more than ashtrays, closed the day in front of a full house.

The band has clearly taken on a classical bent, meaning the climactic raunch of, say. You Say You' has been sacrificed for the more symphonic order of Burlesque'.

Somebody described it as boring. But if fellow Dunedinites the Idles are the country's fastest rising band (as suggested on RWPiccies) then I think the Verlaines must have already found their way to the top and are currently proceeding to shit all over the Idles and their ilk.

People are beginning to realise the Rip shouldn’t share a bill with the Verlaines but for once Alastair Galbraith and his cohorts transcended their flattering influences. They managed to inject some sweat and inspiration into their closing instrumental 'Blackout' and bassist Robbie Muir was seen to tape his foot. No minor miracle. Batman Robert Scott, Wrecked

Small Speaker Mike Morley and Denise Roughan (a Look Blue Gone Purple) made up Pink Plastic Gods,, th? day's opening act, while Scott's younger brother, Andy, plays bass in Love in a Gas Oven, a newly surfaced ensemble. Double percussion, very sloppy and promising in a different kind of way. Buffy O'Reilly

Shazam Suparock Concert Mockers, Netherworld Dancing Toys, Wastrels, Body Electric Christchurch Town Hall, May 17. • BeKHp The evening didn't exactly get off to an ideal start thanks to a muddy sound and a rather ponderous performance from the Body

Electric. Everyone searched for some redeeming features in their act but they remained at odds with each other, both visually and musically. Admittedly the great throng of youth wasn't their ideal audience but they could have at least tried to communicate. Once again there was a distinct lack of personality, warmth and vision. The Body Electric are in grave danger of becoming the Narcs of synth-pop. Fresh from supporting Mr Costello, the Wastrels showed that they are at last beginning to fulfill their promise. Brinson, Hlavac and Cooke have developed into a proficient combination specialising in sweaty, original R&B. This tends to put the onus back on singer Anton Jenner, who unfortunately had voice problems. So, after Angels in Silence', they left prematurely, leaving the classic ‘All Out to Sea' unplayed and most of the audience disappointed. This could become a problem - let's hope otherwise. For sheer mania no one else came within a bull’s roar of the Mockers. Several young Mockerettes were even seen to be sporting black nail polish a la Fagan. But it was the polite, subtle way they performed their songs, those great songs, that impressed me. The massive sea of hands that greeted 'Alvison Park' injected an emotion into the auditorium that even the cynics among us felt. The Mockers are currently the cat's pyjamas and how! The Netherworld Dancing Toys were always going to have their work cut out but they handled the

situation like professionals. Proving that momentum is often the greatest force in a live performance, the "soul searchers" tore through their set as though their lives depended on it. Perhaps a little more imagination and invention from the horn section wouldn't have gone astray but that didn't bother the fans as a horde of them clambered on stage to help out on Gimme Some Lovin'.

Afterwards, the stars, the TV people and various hangers-on popped over to the Vacation for a couple of quiet ones. But somehow it wasn't the same without those enthusiastic kids. Alister Cain

Off the Deep End Festival Thistle Hall. Wellington. April. Last week off the deep end .. . time tor hedonistic splurge .. . smuggled alcohol ... joint upstairs ... friendly voices in a phased out circle. Centre of attentions easily changed. Magic moments in the attic ... before the crunching of head on beam spoils enjoyment for the time. Before being plagued with tears in regards to oncoming madness . .. listened to various bands, contra bands ... duos, trios, quartets, cinq minutes and all sorts of Primitive Art groups. Lots of people to be polite about their talents ... lots of people to be rude about the same ... good chance the crowd might consider the musician a moron. Sweat ran up and down the strings ... spittle down the reeds ... and for the stomach's dis-

content, good tasting Eno'' ... expensive sounds to video surrounds. Music made clearer when the better craftsmen ... better artists ... better motivated played. Names became faces ... became forgotten. Musicians to be playing were those with their heads down ... muttering grievances ... instructions ... information ... for some even what chords to play. Late night energy thrivers thrived ... inner city dwellers ... clattering out rhythmic cacophonies of all kinds. Some nights in order, some in disarray ... some nights deserted in the organisers' haste to close before the break of day. Metaphors a touch premature, but who gives a f... it seemed late. Private jams stirred in home surrounds ... risking gauntlets of hostile flatmates ... bad reception for abandoned music ... and most houses are the same, there's always someone sleeping nearby .. . someone whose mission is not to live and let die. But to constantly ask why ... the butter inner, the bring the shit outer. And 1 can honestly say I've never played worse guitar as under the yellow light ... people being what they are, I'm sure someone feels more confidence in their'guitar playing now ... by seeing how bad some people can actually play. From off the deep end ... something gained ... Lots of musicians can play Some have a direction to what they say.