[kj] [OT] Magazine - London Forum 13th February (spoliers)

[Darren A. Peace]

As promised, for anyone interested (and a warning for those who aren’t,
there’s little to interest you here), this is how the Magazine gig went for
me.

 

Venue was the London Forum in Kentish Town. The last time I went to a
concert there it was the KJ two-nighter, when my car (parked in Reading) was
broken into.  This time, I was taking no chances, and found a new car park
with electrified shutters, machine-gun turrets and patrolling security
guards with Dobermanns lacking their larynxes. Chatham Place, in case anyone
might use it. Cheaper than parking at the railway station too, slightly.

 

Didn’t get to see more than the last song of the support act, a 4-girl group
called Ipso Facto, as my friend who was coming to the gig with me was in a
coach stuck on the M4 for three hours. Still, Ipso Facto were interesting,
although all I knew about them was that one of their number is Hilton
Valentine’s (from the Animals) daughter. Saixties-ish vibe, although it was
unfortunate that the fancy dress shop only had three Louise Brooks wigs
left, as the drummer stood out rather.

 

Once they were done, and I’d amused myself at the merchandise stand (which
took card payments! Wish more did) – buying three t-shirts, a CD compiled
from several Magazine bootlegs I already have and a Magazine mug (since this
was Magazine, there is certainly a post-modern joke there, but a mug with “I
know the meaning of life” on one side and “It doesn’t help me a bit” on the
other will sit well alongside my Nick Cave tea towels and the space where
the Grinderman knickers might have been); I baulked at the Malcolm Garrett
silk-screened prints - £50, but £75 when signed by the artist & the band –
I’ve got enough shit on my walls already – although I’ve seen and enjoyed
“Hunger”, I’m not meaning that literally - and I have much-treasured “Shot
By Both Sides” 7”, “Give Me Everything” 7”, “Real Life” & “Secondhand
Daylight” LPs all autographed in my presence already; anything Magazine
related needs to be signed by McGeoch to be of interest to me), it was time
to get to the front and assess the audience.

 

I really had no idea of what type of audience to expect; the last time I saw
Magazine everyone was between 15 and 20 and looked 15 to 20 years old. It
turns out that by and large Magazine fans are short (bonus! no Lurch in
front of me!), male, with a proclivity for trendy spectacles and manbags.
There were some women there, but not many. More than at the KJ gigs, I’d
say. And everyone was very polite as we barrelled to the front(ish). To be
honest, everyone looked rather as though they were more used to attending
garden centres and discussing the finer points of the Palestinian conflict.
With manbags, which are an abhorrence and should result in spot fines and a
going over with rubber hoses.

 

The venue clearly had an eighties new wave compilation CD to hand, as we
listened to it twice; still, “Sons & Fascinations”-era Simple Minds is a
particular favourite of mine, and there was Buzzcocks (although not
“Lipstick”, sadly), so it wasn’t all bad.

 

And then “The Thin Air” came on over the PA. Lights down. Sense of
anticipation ferocious. After the whole track, a spoken Devoto monologue
from behind the theatre leg, and then the curtain opened.

 

Straight into a superb “Light Pours Out Of Me”. Great “Real Life”-inspired
backdrop. Adamson kitted out like a Baron Samedi pimp lord, with top hat,
Jason King shirt open to his Borat and Fly-era U2 shades. Noko (who, in
fairness, made a decent fist of the guitar work, but no-one’s McGeoch) in
what appeared to be a scarlet velour suit, with soul patches all over his
face, and with a worrying propensity for pulling spooge-faces at inopportune
moments. Doyle looking like an accountant behind the drums (it always amused
me, in the Armoury Show, when they were thinking of “cool” names for
themselves, McGeoch was “The Legend”, Jobson was “The Captain”, Russell Webb
was ”Universe”, and John Doyle was ... “Doylie”). Formula, criminally
undermixed throughout, was startling in a pork-pie hat. Then out skipped
Devoto.

 

I’ll make my position clear. I think Howard Devoto is a God-touched genius,
and is my favourite ever lyricist (yes, better then Mark E. Smith). His book
of lyrics is fantastic, and can be read as poetry – his solo “Rainy Season”
is a deeply significant song for me, for many reasons, but one of those
reasons is the perfection of the lyrics. It was therefore unfortunate that
he appeared in pedal pushers, espadrilles and a pink yachting blazer. With
his total baldness, I’m afraid he looked like Dr. Evil, and I outraged the
fat bloke wearing a flat cap standing next to me by saying “One million
dollars” in a stupid voice to my friend at this point. Still, with his
onstage freedom (I particularly liked his pretending to be a ‘plane bit,
although Shellac do that best, I think) and his mannered delivery, he didn’t
let me down. Very theatrical, but absolutely right.

 

The setlist?

 

The Light Pours Out of Me
The Great Beautician In The Sky / Model Worker

The Honeymoon Killers

Because You're Frightened
You Never Knew Me
Rhythm of Cruelty

I Want To Burn Again
This Poison
A Song from Under the Floorboards
Permafrost
The Book
Twenty Years Ago /Definitive Gaze
Parade 
Shot By Both Sides
ENCORE:
Thank You
Motorcade
2nd encore:
I Love You Big Dummy

 

The “Correct Use Of Soap” and “Magic, Murder & The Weather”-era tracks had
members of Ipso Facto (whose LBDs & Louise Brooks wigs were by this stage
starting to grow on me) popping up to sing backing vocals; the songs came
across surprisingly well in a live environment, although it’s the first two
albums, when Magazine were lumbering and surly, that inspire my love for
this band. Noko royally fouled up the guitar riff during “The Honeymoon
Killers”; I don’t remember Mandelson having such trouble with it.

 

The fact that the setlist was CUoS & MM&TW heavy was a slight problem for
me; I wouldn’t have dropped anything (oh, all right, “The Book”, of which
more in a moment), but it would have been perfect to have had “Back To
Nature”, “Give Me Everything” and “Feed The Enemy”.

 

Little things were a delight; Adamson reclining on a fold-up chair like the
louche bastard he is, as though he were awaiting some intimate attention for
“Thank You”, Noko making a hash of  the solo in “Permafrost” (which song was
absolutely the highlight for me), the mid-set eulogy for McGeoch. Even “The
Book”, the yawnsome b-side, was transformed by having Devoto read the text
from behind a lectern, with the unfortunate consequence, with the
accompanying dry ice, of making him look like Davros, talking like Wallace.
“Not now, Gromit” was another aside that agitated my fat friend in the cap.
He, however, got elbowed in the kidneys by a flailing midget during the fast
bit of “Motorcade”, so that was satisfying.

 

The main problem was the shitty sound. This is a band who need the keyboards
up in the mix, and I couldn’t hear Formula for great swathes of the set.
Things would certainly have been muddied by my being so far forward, but
I’ve heard much better at the Forum. There was some irritation at the
inconsistent behaviour of the audience, who generally seemed not to have
been to a gig since the eighties; standing around self-consciously some of
the time, then suddenly launching into that awful
keep-feet-still-sway-at-the-hips-and-make-udder-milking-movements-with-the-a
rms spastic dance, resulting in my being drenched by what tasted like Pimms
on two occasions.

 

Wouldn’t have missed it for the world; if I could be sure of better sound,
I’d go to one of the Manchester dates.

 

Hope anyone who goes has as good a time as I did. Photos (within the
constraints of the crappy iPhone camera) are on my Faecebook page, but I
don’t go to gigs to take photos, so there aren’t many.

 

 

Darren

Hungerford, UK

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