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Just imagine that Mark Chapman hadn't gunned down John Lennon in December 1980. John might have returned safely home to the Dakota Building and phoned Paul up. "Paul," he might have said. "Ten years is too long. It's time to get the boys back together and into a studio. Oh, and Merry Christmas." Equally, in the seventies John Cleese might have decided to get back in touch with Connie Booth and agreed that rather than stop at twelve episodes of Fawlty Towers they should push on to a century or so.
Would you be happy with either of these scenarios? Of course, you might be curious. Who wouldn't enjoy the anticipation of a new Beatles album? However, if you have a nagging doubt about the possibility it might be due to worry that they might be really bad. They might taint their previous work and be pained by re-appraisals. No, there is a natural end to things. I never saw the Beatles live and I've now got the chance of meeting only half of them but, as Uncle Monty says, there can be no beauty without decay.
Certain things should be left where they are. Do you remember the Velvet Underground get together in 1993? Now I absolutely adore VU so I duly scurried along to the Wembley gig with Whistling Al McKenzie, whose pithy words you can read within these pages. I can now proudly tell my kids that I've seen Lou Reed sing Venus In Furs in the flesh. They wouldn't enjoy the story though, as I would tell them that it was one of the biggest anti-climaxes since Let It Be. I sat in the audience and tried to feel overawed but as Lou missed lines out and hurriedly tried to include them into the next line I could tell that the snake should have been forever slain rather than merely scotched. Leave it alone and its memory can't be tainted.
This brings me to the Love gig at the Le Beat festival over Easter 2005. I've seen them earlier at the Forum and knew two things that would affect tonight's performance. One, Arthur likes to put a show on so don't think about getting the last tube home and, two, expect a lot of guitar solos. The first proclamation is realised, as they don't take to the stage until gone eleven. Arthur has to fight his way through numerous guitarists including Rusty Squeezebox and Johnny Echols, who's making his comeback. Arthur grins at the crowd from behind his dark glasses, looking not unlike Hendrix's uncle and sets about us. He nods around the crowd and delivers the opening notes of "Alone Again Or." Johnny gives him a hand and we're all in. Singalongs are sadly lacking from gigs these days but as the crowd is nearer my age than the average of an NME reader I'm more than happy that this is the case.
The second song reveals one of the more sorrowful affairs about reuniting bands - the need to do a blues rockout for no reason within the middle of a perfectly good song. In this case we're "treated" to a painful succession of guitar solos which are showy rather than necessary. I find my eyes becoming less bright and shoulders are slumping quicker than Viv Nicholson's bank balance. I nod appreciatively but I'm waiting for the next song. Nearby, some anal cock tells Buttoned Down Rachel to "smile" and attempts to charm her by "being whacky." I can't enjoy any gig where there is someone near me who has an IQ score similar to the alcohol volume of his glass so it's an unhappy couple of minutes. Hmm... Less cocks, more favourites please Art.
It's a challenge he's more than up to. "A House Is Not A Motel" roars from the speakers and I marvel that two men in their sixties can make music like that. From then on we run through the majority of Forever Changes and the odd slice of gold such as My Little Red Book and Wonder People. In between songs Arthur talks extensively to the crowd. He is witty, he is sublime and we can't hear a single word he is saying. Not a solitary slovo. There's some new material too. "Everybody's Got To Live" segues into Instant Karma and the better Flesh Against My Skin (I think it's called) sears those in the front rows. Say what you like about Love - they can bloody play. After the tedious business of introducing the band (tedious but forgivable so we can marvel at Echols again) they're off into the night. I'm left standing, hoping against hope that they do Seven And Seven Is for an encore. They return with it and send me home happy.
Complaints? Well, I would have liked to hear the beautiful Andmoreagain, which demonstrates Arthur's adaptable vocal range, but this is a petty thing. If you haven't bought Forever Changes or Da Capo then I'm deeply jealous of you, as you've got a fascinating new experience to look forward to. Vive Le Beat!.
Would you be happy with either of these scenarios? Of course, you might be curious. Who wouldn't enjoy the anticipation of a new Beatles album? However, if you have a nagging doubt about the possibility it might be due to worry that they might be really bad. They might taint their previous work and be pained by re-appraisals. No, there is a natural end to things. I never saw the Beatles live and I've now got the chance of meeting only half of them but, as Uncle Monty says, there can be no beauty without decay.
Certain things should be left where they are. Do you remember the Velvet Underground get together in 1993? Now I absolutely adore VU so I duly scurried along to the Wembley gig with Whistling Al McKenzie, whose pithy words you can read within these pages. I can now proudly tell my kids that I've seen Lou Reed sing Venus In Furs in the flesh. They wouldn't enjoy the story though, as I would tell them that it was one of the biggest anti-climaxes since Let It Be. I sat in the audience and tried to feel overawed but as Lou missed lines out and hurriedly tried to include them into the next line I could tell that the snake should have been forever slain rather than merely scotched. Leave it alone and its memory can't be tainted.
This brings me to the Love gig at the Le Beat festival over Easter 2005. I've seen them earlier at the Forum and knew two things that would affect tonight's performance. One, Arthur likes to put a show on so don't think about getting the last tube home and, two, expect a lot of guitar solos. The first proclamation is realised, as they don't take to the stage until gone eleven. Arthur has to fight his way through numerous guitarists including Rusty Squeezebox and Johnny Echols, who's making his comeback. Arthur grins at the crowd from behind his dark glasses, looking not unlike Hendrix's uncle and sets about us. He nods around the crowd and delivers the opening notes of "Alone Again Or." Johnny gives him a hand and we're all in. Singalongs are sadly lacking from gigs these days but as the crowd is nearer my age than the average of an NME reader I'm more than happy that this is the case.
The second song reveals one of the more sorrowful affairs about reuniting bands - the need to do a blues rockout for no reason within the middle of a perfectly good song. In this case we're "treated" to a painful succession of guitar solos which are showy rather than necessary. I find my eyes becoming less bright and shoulders are slumping quicker than Viv Nicholson's bank balance. I nod appreciatively but I'm waiting for the next song. Nearby, some anal cock tells Buttoned Down Rachel to "smile" and attempts to charm her by "being whacky." I can't enjoy any gig where there is someone near me who has an IQ score similar to the alcohol volume of his glass so it's an unhappy couple of minutes. Hmm... Less cocks, more favourites please Art.
It's a challenge he's more than up to. "A House Is Not A Motel" roars from the speakers and I marvel that two men in their sixties can make music like that. From then on we run through the majority of Forever Changes and the odd slice of gold such as My Little Red Book and Wonder People. In between songs Arthur talks extensively to the crowd. He is witty, he is sublime and we can't hear a single word he is saying. Not a solitary slovo. There's some new material too. "Everybody's Got To Live" segues into Instant Karma and the better Flesh Against My Skin (I think it's called) sears those in the front rows. Say what you like about Love - they can bloody play. After the tedious business of introducing the band (tedious but forgivable so we can marvel at Echols again) they're off into the night. I'm left standing, hoping against hope that they do Seven And Seven Is for an encore. They return with it and send me home happy.
Complaints? Well, I would have liked to hear the beautiful Andmoreagain, which demonstrates Arthur's adaptable vocal range, but this is a petty thing. If you haven't bought Forever Changes or Da Capo then I'm deeply jealous of you, as you've got a fascinating new experience to look forward to. Vive Le Beat!.
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