Live Review

The Specials – Blackpool Empress Ballroom

• 26th Nov 2009

On the 4th November, in a large room, grand and antique with plush decor and a royal touch, stood seven men from the doldrums of Coventry who sang with complete disdain about the injustices and romantic grit that Britain had endured since 30 years ago.

Underneath a domed roof, housing chandeliers and intricate designs stood seven men, who now balding and wrinkling shot a sense of real-life into a building and a town that should have died 30 years ago.

In front of an adoring audience, who arms aloft hung on every cynical utterance, stood seven men who lived the dream that they dreamt up and embarked on 30 years ago. And as each pounding drum and resounding putdown echoed in the elegance of the ballroom, you would be forgiven to think that nothing had changed in the three decades we’ve been without The Specials. Every song meant the same, every chant echoed and everything about them whispered “timeless.”

Perhaps not anticipating the immense demand their appearance would cause, The Specials performance at Bestival last year set about talks of a more permanent semi-reunion (Jerry Dammers opting/forced out of The Specials return clouding somewhat the celebration) The talks were resolved when the group confirmed they would be touring for the rest of the following year as a celebration of the bands formation some 30 years previous. Since then, the emperors of Ska have tested their bodies and perseverance through a gruelling schedule that on the 4th November stopped at Blackpool; home to donkeys and candy-floss, hen nights and rock.

For ageing men, older than some of the audience’s fathers, age has not wearied them nor the years condemn; instead The Specials produced all of their prophetic tales of pots and pans life with an added hint of majestic maturity. First seen as a silhouette behind a white theatre cloak, the iconic figure of Terry Hall, his face permanently set to melancholy, forged a fever amongst the shaven, balding, young, old and ancient heads of the crowd. This electric chorus of anticipation span into disarray when the simple, bold and era-defining Specials logo shone like a lone star on a dark night behind the suited shapes of the band.

Its block-capital-ed genius provided the backdrop for a set so illustrious and varied that time devoted to a breather was seemingly time wasted. Rude boys and rude girls frantically fled to the front, eager to stomp their sentiments about the government and the country and their friends and their local clubs deep into the floorboards of the ballroom. Rude dads and rude mums settled into a steady bounce induced by the chaos that circled with effortless unity nearer the front.
With an observational eye and the wit of a poet, the lyrics Hall first screamed in 1979 sound just as relevant today; lyrics against fascism, for peace, against injustice and for fun; lyrics that have been lost in the writers of today. No longer can there be a subtle stab at the establishment, now it is too much style over substance, a baritone vocal about impending death seemingly more important than a half-spoken sentence about having too much too young. It’s a shame that the attitude of The Specials has been somewhat lost, an attitude perhaps best described as polite-punk. They were and still are clever in their hatred as they disguise frustration and desperation in a unique blend of reggae and punk, often copied but never bettered.
As the brass resounds and the lyrics compliment the immense sound that the band create, the slightest smile slips onto the face of Terry Hall as three under 14’s slide on stage and dance to the perpetual happiness of “A Message to you Rudy”

Here, the glum King realises that The Specials legacy is secure as a band that, through an un-nerving ability to write a tune can make people aware of the past, the present and the future. Closing with a riotous version of perfect curtain closer “You’re Wondering Now” the phrase “the end” provides a key moment in the concert. For now it is the end, chances are that the tour will finish were it should, 30 years on, in 2009. However, if this stint is the last time that The Specials grace the stage, they leave the live circuit with the marks of Doc Martens, clips off braces and the symbolic sweat of understanding on each and every venues floor.

Not least the Blackpool Empress Ballroom, which began with a rich and wealthy grace and left with a different kind; an honest grace, a truthful grace, a very special grace.