Live Review
Gang Of Four – Heaven, London
Gang of Four – Review
Heaven, London, 02.03.2011
It is with some trepidation that I approach the gates of Heaven. Seeing a band who has shaped not only your own formative teenage years, but also most of modern post-punk, is a risk. Especially so if, no matter how hard you try and like it, their new album just isn’t as good as the 8 stars the NME gives it. Tonight is part of a series of gigs organised for the run-up to the NME Awards 2011 on February 23rd, including bands such as Edwyn Collins, Caribou, The Duke Spirit and Sleigh Bells. Heaven is an apt place for the gig, with its slightly grotty vaulted ceilings and the glitzy screens dotted around the walls. It feels almost intimate.
The lights dim, and a low rumbling noise precedes the band’s entrance. Singer Jon King strides onto the stage, flailing his arms, licking his lips, eyes wide open, a few buttons on his well-cut shirt undone, and generally looking like a demented sociology professor having a great time. He is a magnetic presence, embodying an intriguing blend of immaturity and ageing. Guitarist and fellow-original-member Andy Gill, resembling a stony-faced Simon Mayo, spends his time attempting to outstare the audience. ‘Not Great Men,’ ‘Return the Gift’ and ‘Anthrax’ make early appearances, and surely could not have sounded any more exciting even in 1979. The sound is sharp, clear, technically brilliant and full of enthusiasm. There is only one half-hearted jibe at ‘this reactionary government,’ but there is also a good amount of guitar-throwing, instrument-smashing and feedback.
The band then proceeds to play a fair bit of material from their new album, Content, which sounds fresh, young, and bland. ‘Fruitfly in the Beehive’ is a relatively pleasant ballad, catchy enough to haunt you for a couple of days. The more anthemic efforts, such as ‘Do As I Say’ or ‘I Party All the Time’ are perplexing: humourless, unsubtle political affairs in which they rail against ‘phonies.’ The audience starts to become restless.
As if it weren’t all Brechtian enough, at the start of the encore they announce that they will play a song written by Bertolt Brecht. King then proceeds to rhythmically bash a microwave to bits with a metal rod, an exhilarating moment which sends the audience wild. Then ‘Damaged Goods’ makes its appearance. You feel as if you’ve worked for it, but it sounds good. The band leaves the stage, the house lights come on, and you think they’re gone.
But a few minutes later they appear again, lurching into a triumphant version of ‘Natural’s Not In It’. It hits you full-on, with its raucous guitars hacking away at the very fabrics of society, the lyrics vitriolic yet poetic, infused with the neo-Marxist Frankfurt school and references to fornication. At that moment, you get a glimpse of what made Gang of Four amazing in the first place. And that may well be enough.