11-January-1998
Going
to a gig is most definitely a labour of love.
Why else would you fork out £60 for tickets, £15 on a train fare and pose
another £20 quid just in case you fancy a T-shirt? Love?
Love is even shown in the manner of dress. At the Barrowlands, Richard/Liam/Noel
lookalikes (they of the shaggy hair and humped backs) mingle with kooky
Kennichie poppits licking their lollipops and looking ooh-so-cute. Then there
are the ultra-trendy and ultra-cool in knee high boots, as well as old-hand gig
goers in jeans, trainers and T-shirts. It must be love, all right.
However, this gig is something extra-special. Special because it may never have
taken place, if love hadn't kicked in.
The Verve, as we all know, were torn apart by what the media termed mental and
physical burnout. The end of Wigan's own seemed nigh. But they came through it,
discovering along the way that the Grange Hill crew had a point with their Just
Say No campaign and that love (as is said numerous times throughout the set -
Richard loves Kate, Richard loves Nick, Richard loves the Barras), is the
answer. That's if you want it - of course
The bony body of Richard Ashcroft is highlighted by the crisscross neon-electric
white light. He shambles on, wrapped in a fur-lined parka. Sliding the parka
off, he wails "Ooooh, oooh" as the first cords of the intro are let
loose from Nick McCabe's guitar. The shuffle begins, the bony arm reaches for
the heavens, and the lighting turns from electric-white to a startling red. New
Decade blasts into full fettle as the crowd goes mad with adoration.
This Is Music gently swings in, then things move smoothly into the outstanding
Northern Soul. The crowd begs for more and Richard and co deliver in typical pop
star mode. No talking, just the music. "I don't like talking," he
remarks. He doesn't need to. They're great, they know it and the crowd love them
for it.
An Urban Hymns medley follows, starting with the romantic Weeping Willow. Sonnet
follows, then a spotlight rests on Richard, while the rest of the band fall into
shadow. He takes up the acoustic guitar for a rendition of The Drugs Don't Work.
Catching the Butterfly ends this Urban extravaganza. Then it's back to the
rock-out of the Northern Soul album with Stormy Clouds. That leads appropriately
onto Bitter Sweet Symphony in all its anthemic, stirring glory, hands punching
the air.
"History has a place for us," Richard once said. The song itself has a
place on the set, albeit a lighter, sunnier version than the emotion-packed
slowie of the album. Perhaps Richard is tired of History repeating itself. On
Your Own aptly ends the first half of the set. Then the lights dim and the crowd
demand more, with the stamping of feet and clapping of hands.
The skinny, God-like one walks back on alone. Now in grey hooded top he begins a
solo version of Space and Time. Guys shout and girls swoon at the man with
cheekbones. It ends and the rest of the band take up their places.
"I'm bonkers, I'm bonkers," Richard wails. "But I don't care
cause I'm in love. This one's for Kate." And the band break into Lucky Man.
A thousand would be Mrs Ashcroft's fall into the arms of their partners, as they
croon and croak their way through the song. It's happiness, more or less.
But the best is yet to come. Madness ensues for five minutes at least. Hands
punch the air, legs go out and up and Richard becomes the madman of A Storm in
Heaven. He grabs two - yes, two - tambourines (ooh, the weight on his delicate
little arms) clashing them like a maniac, flexing them from his fingers.
Then it's exit stage left, leaving a crowd of tired, weary, and sweaty people,
who believe love is most certainly the answer.
This
Review by Lynsey
Stewart was Originally on
at
http://www.vibes.co.uk/details.cfm?type=6&rev_id=81
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