Report: The Basement Club #19 - 24/6/04
By: Toby L
Goodbye, England. Euro 2004, the latest claimer of your soul.
Come the week of The Basement #19, we, as organisers, truly were quaking in our moon-boots. Just our luck: the quarter-finals of a leather ball of air tournament, featuring our hallowed country versus host-land Portugal, was set for the same evening as our club knees-up. Bugger. Will everyone still come, we gestated.
Yes, and thank you. Unlike those that lined the pubs and couches at home watching the agonising 2-2 match of England Vs Portugal spill into penalties, everyone in the basement of a bar in Highbury was already winning; how could you possibly not be when in the presence of The Magic Numbers, a band so beguilingly intricate, sincere and haunting that we invited them back for a second performance in a row?
Despite a few self-confessedly 'sloppy' embers (we only counted one, however, - an only temporarily out-of-tune guitar during the closing seconds of a sublime 'Hymn For Her'; that's how nit-picky you have to be with a band like this), this is further affirmation of the Numbers' grandeur - not even once faltered when headliner of the eve Ed Harcourt and members of The Concretes stumble onstage to add out-of-tune backing-vocals on their soaring opus, 'Wheels On Fire'. Unquestionably special, especially when coupled with the backing of distant, echoed yells from the pub upstairs every time England are close to scoring a goal, always during the quiet parts.
Then Harcourt returns, solo, and the room is now fuller, football-fans making their way over from prior pastures. It's official - by 10:45pm, it's clear that England are out of Euro 2004. To nurse us, Ed delves a capella into new fourth album centrepiece 'Something To Live For', and we immediately find a new home. Aching pop-single of a few years back - 'She Fell Into Our Arms' - follows, and the front rows sway and sing in a genial unison. It's going to be one of those ones it seems.
And we then get the most intimate, weird performance yet from the floppy-haired piano-maestro. Perhaps down to the fact this isn't really his band - on drums, we have his producer Jari, on guitar is Romeo of previous trailblazers The 'Numbers, violinist Gita, and only one full-time Ed Harcourt band-member - double-bassist, Arnulf.
So we get a very warm, communal sing-song for 100 minutes - everything from upcoming record 'Strangers' (including the subtly mesmerising title-track, a deeply mournful, yet spirited 'Kids', plus the scintillating pop-stomp of 'Loneliness', complete with Angela and Michelle of the Magic's on backing-chorus), with the sombre smoky-bar desolation of 'Those Crimson Tears'. And that's all without counting an ad-libbed b-side, 'Americans In London' (as demanded by keen devotees at the front, who aid on the lyrics when Harcourt fails to recall them), plus a banjo-backed 'I've Become Misguided', ironically yelled 'He's Building A Swamp', and a crowd/performer duet in the Broadway expanse of 'Metaphorically Yours'. It's a gripping, dazzling display, enriched with the affection and occasional fumbles that mark a true muso in official Comfort 'N' Interactive Mode amidst his surroundings.
Fans get signatures, the organisers and musicians get hammered (pictured: venue-owner Stacey having plied a very contented headliner with a barrage of drinks), a three-way laydee-ruck in the DJ-booth - inclusive of regular's Pickles (plus assistant) and Sam Hall - continues the pace all night, while the failure of our sporting nation is completely void from memory. Unlike this evening.