Blur / Cicala Mvta - London Royal Festival Hall - 02/07/00
5/5
By: Toby L
Scott Walker assembled quite a line-up for this year's South Bank-based urban music-fest. Early on into the fortnight of entertainment that was handpicked by the reclusive legend himself, were appearances by Elliot Smith, Asian Dub Foundation, Smog, Jarvis Cocker and friends, Orbital and, of course, Austrian naturist band F**khead, famous for playing with their bits flopping over their instruments.
However, on the final weekend of this year's refreshingly diverse event were the highlights that were going to matter: Radiohead's first UK appearance for far too long, as well as Blur's 'only live show of the year'. Radiohead, from fan-reaction and favourable reviews, seemed to blow everyone away, but what with another eight or so UK live shows to come in September and October, the importance of their comeback show may have been ever so slightly diluted. However, with the Blur concert tonight, there's no doubt about it: this show was craved badly.
Yes, but what to play may have been a problem. Just weeks prior to their performance, lead-singer Damon Albarn spoke of how he wanted to play a set of entirely new material, though just a short while later, admitted that this probably wasn't a likelihood. As the reputation of Meltdown is typically avant-garde (Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon last playing here in 1998 with the experimental duo, Silver Apples), it was expected by media and fans alike that a set of difficult and challenging tracks would be aired. So, as half of the seats were filled at the late start of 9:00pm (the Euro 2000 final was on - well done, France), a set of unusual sounds was certainly delivered to a curious crowd...
... Though only by Japanese support act, Cicala Mvta. After watching this band for half an hour, notable was it to see how Blur fans had taken to them readily, complete with their traditional Asian flutes, pipes and brass, not to mention twangy guitar and vigorously-stroked cello. For sure, if this act were the support for any other UK, 90s-established, guitar band, you'd expect the crowd reaction to be flat; Blur fans seem a bit more open-minded. Tracks such as 'Sorry to Have Fallen in Love with You' may have sounded quite similar to the next track, according to the untrained ear, but with playing as consistently strong and entertaining, it's hardly a major quip. Even if the cello-player's Afro haircut and balloon-blowing antics mid-song were just plain disturbing (especially when he jumped offstage to reclaim his balloon after it failed to secure on to the lead player's head).
This is it, however. Twenty-five minutes past ten, the lights go down and the completely seated audience, bar the bustling photographers at the foot of the stage, are radiating excitement. The vast size of the stage is realised as Graham, bassist Alex James and drummer Dave Rowntree take to their places, Damon trailing behind as he scratches his head. On taking centre-stage, Albarn comments, 'Tonight, we're gonna be playing an interesting set,' a grin emerging on his contented face. The opening space-ship launch of 'Battle', complete with a scattering keyboard intro, provides a chilling start to the night's song-selection. Full-throttle and head down, Rowntree's drumming is as tight as ever, and as the shady and echoing guitar work of Coxon fades away, you've already forgotten that their last live appearance together was almost seven months ago.
Damon's known for his stage-comments. Often he says before popular live songs, such as 'There's No Other Way' that the band are to 'never gonna play it ever again', but, sure enough, it will pop back into the live-set less than a year or so later. So, when his recent comments emerged in the music-press of them never playing any singles again, fans couldn't help greeting his views with scepticism. And why not, because as the London Community Gospel Choir shuffles onstage unnoticed until the spot-light shines on them and Graham's guitar opens 'Tender', the idea of Blur not playing any of their singles ever again sounds ridiculous - how can a chicken not lay its eggs? Fitting for such formal surroundings, it's a clap-along occasion, Damon's vocals sublime and a fine ending after moving 'oh my baby' cries from the choir. 'Modern Life is Rubbish' hidden gem, 'Blue Jeans', follows, opening with ba-ba keyboards and stop-start drums, the melodic chorus sheer bliss, filling the huge building quite capably, shrinking it to a local village hall. Two similar sounding tracks (starting acoustically before rocking out in a fervent wall-of-sound) follow, 'Trimm Trabb' and 'Country Sad Ballad Man', making way for a mellowed and touching 'To The End'. Introduced by the now-at-ease singer, Damon dedicates it to Scott, 'I just know that he's had quite a powerful effect on our lives (looks to band)...'
The first ever UK performance of 'Look Inside America' is soon played (Damon; 'This one's about touring and how hard it is...'), beginning with Albarn's acoustic strumming and wailing, human vocals. The 'Blur' material continues with 'Beetlebum', which, in all fairness, starts badly from the outset. Damon forgets his words, it slips his mind where the chorus comes in and he doesn't even bother trying the second verse, preferring to laugh in the direction of Alex, who, up till now, has successfully not taken the audience's 'Fat Les are shite' remarks to heart. The smirking frontman reasoned with the crowd for his lack of professionalism. 'It's just that every time I look at him (Alex), I won't tell you the name of the brand of the cigarettes he smokes, but I just can't help thinking of all the free motorcycles and things he's got because of it...' Claps emerge from the crowd and it's agreed that their 1997 number one would be given another shot.
It's worrying how you can actually forget how amazing 'This is a Low' sounds live; this must have been their best version yet. However, rather than letting people dwell on that by walking offstage for a set of encores to pop up later, they remain where they are and play a thrilling 'Death of a Party', complete with scratchy guitar and eye-endangering lighting. It wasn't a secret either by this point - for what could have been an uncertain affair, this was just getting better and better.
Indeed, the inclusion of the songs thus far truly acted as testament to Blur's exceptional ability and vast back catalogue. 'No Distance Left To Run' is always worthy of inclusion, the lack of lighting being poignant, forcing you to focus in what's been presented. However, once again, rather than exiting offstage to let us linger on the greatness of their last top-20, they stay and play an unusual single-choice for the so far toned-down performance - a roaring 'On Your Own'.
The last performance of 'The Great Escape''s weakest moment, 'Ernold Same', complete with now-London mayor, the nasal-whining, but people's choice, Ken Livingstone, was in 1995 at Wembley Arena. For tonight, as then, he was given a platform, from which he could recite several lines of poetry whilst Blur play incidental music, Damon bawling, 'Poor old Ernold Same' over the top of it all. (Maybe Oasis were right about Blur's pretension?) However, this time, the choir takes the vocal responsibilities from Damon and turns this ridiculous number into a nearly-strong track, the audience in awe at the sight of Ken. The response is as strong as it could have been for Phil Daniels, if he was there, swaggering and yelling through yet another rendition of 'Parklife', but this was a more welcome surprise.
Once again, though, how can it all last. 'This is our last song... and it's a new song...' Expecting people to jolt upright in their seats and scream 'NOOOO!' before stabbing themselves violently, the band are physically relieved to hear a few cheers, though are still protective. 'If you don't like it, then, er, I guess we're f**ked.' The audience laugh, but he's right; if Blur produce mediocre matter from now on in, then they are f**ked. The fans know better than that. 'Black Book' is incredible and Blur are secretly, deservedly confident of it. Starting, worryingly, with the sound-a-like keyboard 'bomb-bomb-bombs' refrain that can be heard in the 80s hit 'Take My Breath Away', featured in 'Top Gun', Damon croaks, 'Give me a soul' as the drums patter almost silently, the bass oozes and Graham's guitar is kept to a harsh minimum. The slow-burner then explodes in vocals from the London Community Gospel Choir, creating an eruptive crescendo of sound before it closes and the band disappear, gone. Not coming back. It's a profound, brave finish and as the house lights appear, people are astonished that it's over.
Damon commented that this was definitely their only live show for a fair old while, but let's hope, just like his 'we'll never play the singles again' comments, that it was just a throwaway remark.
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