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At this point, not much remains of the original UK punk wave, its once pounding surf reduced to a mild current across a tidal pool. They are either deceased (RIP, JOE STRUMMER, SID VICIOUS), sporadically reforming for the occasional live gig (ALTERNATIVE TV, BUZZCOCKS, VIBRATORS), or shilling butter (JOHN LYDON). So when THE DAMNED released So, Who’s Paranoid virtually out of the blue last year, not only was it a surprise that the band who released the first punk rock single and LP was suddenly back in the game, but also that it was so (pardon the pun) damned good. Not having seen them live since the ’89 shows when Brian James was on-board, I was pretty excited to see them once again, hoping that they could still bring the electric rock power that they once easily harnessed.
My slight misgivings were totally unfounded; what a great show. DAVE VANIAN and CAPTAIN SENSIBLE are the last men standing from the original quartet, but they are as vital as ever. Perhaps playing the Damned songbook has some sort of anti-aging mechanism built in, because they sounded fantastic and looked great as well, the shock of grey on Dave’s hair a holdover from the goth era and not a recent development (the ascot and french cuffs were a nice touch, perfectly keeping with his well-known sartorial style…the Captain had the requisite red beret, white shades and a leopard print trouser look going). ‘Ladies and gentlemen, how do’ – STU WEST blasted the gutbucket bass riff and boom out of the gates was “Love Song,” a perfect salvo to get the crowd juiced. Then the next two songs followed suit from the tracklist of Machine Gun Etiquette and what a way to start! Had this been one of those ‘Don’t Look Back’ shows and the rest of the record had followed, I highly doubt anyone would have complained one whit. But as it was, with a catalog deep with great cuts, it also would have been a shame to not take a wider look, as well as to showcase some of the newer material.
Of the new songs, I was pretty surprised that they ignored what I feel are the best two songs from it, “A Nation Fit For Heroes” and “Under The Wheels,” though “Dr Woofenstein,” “Perfect Sunday” and “Dark Asteroid” were well-received and didn’t sound out of place when nestled against classics like “Neat Neat Neat” or “Anti-Pope.” The Captain was having a great time tonight, visibly chuffed to be playing and playing his black SG copy well, quite well; he’s always been a bit of a under-appreciated guitarist and though he did a bit of flash with the behind the head playing, the leads on “Perfect Sunday” and especially the incendiary “Ignite” (complete with dub breakdown mid-song) made his skills plainly obvious. He was the chattiest of the bunch, at one point rambling on about smoking, RAT SCABIES and French grave digging and the collegiate women of Boston before keyboardist MONTY OXYMORON (who for most of the night was gleefully stabbing at the keys with a demented smiled etched on his face, and at one point did an impromptu dance across the stage and back, pirouetting and flailing his arms) chimed in with “Meanwhile, back at the gig,” and Dave finally tossed a towel at him to get back on with the task at hand but not before a half-arsed tumble through his solo hit “Wot.” Obviously there’s no love lost with their ex-drummer, since his name was also raised earlier on when the Captain referenced the old punk club The Rat as a place where you’d be best of mindful of your wallet’s whereabouts, which prompted a few faux coughs/‘Scabies’ utterances from him and Dave.
I’m sure that a lot of people who witnessed the nascent punk scene back three and a half decades ago just saw it as a passing trend, one with no staying power. The Damned were too smart and too talented to stay in the punk cul-de-sac, and successfully mixed both psychedelia and goth along with punk and garage with the main reason of success being that they could write and perform a song much better than the average safety-pin victim. The encore of “Stretcher Case” and “Smash It Up” was transcendently good rock period, a gilding of the lily tonight. At the conclusion, Sensible pantomimed being an old man, shuffling across stage and gently tapping his guitar against the stage floor, saying “We can’t afford to smash our instruments anymore.” Which means that they will remain intact, ready to rock again. For that we are fortunate.
Tonight was one of those rare nights where the entire bill was class start to finish, and dovetailed styles well without being too redundant from band to band. Since I knew nothing about the other bands going in (THE BELLRAYS and ELECTRIC FRANKENSTEIN) that made it even better; it’s rare to be bowled over by something you’ve never heard, but in the case of The Bellrays, that’s what happened. Fusing an unusual mix of garage, punk and soul, the clear star of the band is singer LISA KEKAULA, who can belt out like Aretha and curl around your soul like Mavis, in equal doses. The band is certainly no bystander, and though being tight can sometimes mean devoid of emotion, this was certainly not the case…a supple rhythm section and creative guitarist in BOB VENNUM was the perfect match for Lisa’s frankly astounding vocal skills and performing persona.
Openers Electric Frankenstein took the no-nonsense approach of pulling out the dog-eared punk rock primer but had the smarts to study the right bits and nail ‘em. Full throttle bass? Check. Two guitars, blasting out power chords in a rough and ready fashion? Got it covered. Drum fills and crashes in the right spots? Yep. Pretty catchy songs help separate them from the throngs. Good stuff.
