I almost don’t know where to start.
When you return to work after a chilled out two weeks off to four of the most stressful days you’ve had in a long time, and you seriously consider not going to a gig because of your headspace.
But you realise.
And I’m going to use two of my most hated overused words.
Iconic Legend…
You realise the gig is one that features an iconic legend. There. I said it. I used both words, and adjacent to reach other!
But I mean it. It hit me when I was standing taking in the second support of the night, Hateful (and a mighty fine set it was too…), and I watched Walter Lure, or more affectionately Waldo, walk in the door and into the minimal band space in Glasgow’s Audio venue.
Of all the gin joints in all the towns…
That is when it really struck me. Here is a man that played in a band that epitomised the New York scene of the late seventies, a band that spawned a million copyists, a band whose members ultimately didn’t survive the vagaries of a rock’n’roll and drugs lifestyle. And he is walking into this venue on an early August evening in Glasgow. Of all the gin joints in all the towns….
Fresh, or as it may be, not so fresh, from a well-received set at Rebellion. (Fraser – I’m so fed up talking about that thing in Blackpool every August, we need to go so I can stop…) Walter, Mick, Mark and Nigel bring their circus to town. My town. And boy was it a treat.
Like much of the feedback I heard from venues at that event that happened in Blackpool, tonight’s venue was a veritable sweatbox. I’ve been looking to lose weight after two weeks of overindulgence, I think perhaps I sweated a couple of stone off tonight.
Regrettably, Shock & Awe were just finishing their set when we walked in, as their last song, Sexual, was a stormer. Mental note – catch their full set in future.
We’ve got a One Track Mind…
The venue started filling with familiar faces, these are people who know. These are people who realise L.A.M.F. is an album to be lauded. These are people who appreciate what it means to see quality music in a sweaty club in Glasgow on a Thursday night.
Hateful played a belter. I would say warming up the gathered throng perfectly, but I’m not sure we could have got any warmer…
What can I can say about Walter & Co’s set that you wouldn’t already know? I could list all the songs, but then you know how many fucking great songs there are on L.A.M.F. (If you don’t – do yourself a favour, stop reading this and go get a copy of the bloody album) When you open a gig with One Track Mind, All By Myself, and I Wanna Be Loved, can it get any better? Well, aye…
Introducing the band…
A moment to focus on the band. Waldo and Mick are a perfect foil for each other. Walter the sage. cool frontman, laidback to the extreme, storyteller and character. Mick Rossi, hyperactive livewire, a pocket rocket and supreme guitar player. Mark L.A.F.F. – geddit? indisputable powerhouse at the back and Nigel Mead, unassuming but a vital force on bass.
Not every song totally went to plan, but that was part of what made the night so essential. The perfect imperfections, the fallibility of us all displayed right in front of us in an intimate environment. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking disasters here, just a couple of little moments of knowing glances between band members. The set was impeccable in its structure. The aforementioned trio to start with, a set littered with delicious nuggets like the ballsy blues of Ray Charles I’m Busted, Rossi penned Slaughter songs like Stranded and of course all your Heartbreakers favourites – Pirate Love, Born to Lose, the self-confessed more-appropriate-now-than-ever Get off the Phone and the tongue in cheek comeback to the Sex Pistols New York in London Boys.
Drugs featured heavily in the career of The Heartbreakers, so it seemed only appropriate that the set ended on the all too real Chinese Rocks and Too Much Junkie Business (complete with actions from Walter).
The drug references didn’t end there with the band returning to play their stirring take on the Velvet Underground’s (and famed SATD cover) (I’m) Waiting for My Man.
Do You Love Me?
Do You Love Me? Walter sang on the band’s final song. The answer from those gathered in the by now ferociously hot Audio? A resounding of course we fucking do! And Carson proved he can do the mashed potato. Or maybe he was just running it aff….
Nights like this don’t come too often, one to be savoured and looked back on with one of those nauseating “I was there” grins. I don’t care. I was there, and the world is a better place for it.
Hit me with all you can muster Friday, I’m ready.
New York is calling me…