- by Tom Gilhespy
- Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Steve Diggle has his hand-lettered name taped across the head of his guitar amp. Is he worried that he’ll forget it? That we’ll forget it? Or is it so that groupies can ask for him by name rather than as the fit-looking one in the polka dot shirt? The reasons, unfortunately, will have to remain opaque, but whatever they may be, they can’t possibly detract from the performance he puts in tonight. Diggle bounds and bounces around the stage like an over-enthusiastic puppy on Christmas day, all smiles and grins and arm-swinging poses. He puts his peers in the mosh pit to shame, but that’s not too big a surprise: he’s carrying far less weight than many of them.
To his left we have Pete Shelley, and if Diggle is the over-enthusiastic puppy, Shelley seems world-weary, jaded and a little blasé, like an ageing cat that’s ready to lash out at anyone who invades his space. Looks are exchanged when Diggle bounces too close, but the only real lash-out is reserved for the crew when he screams for someone to “kill that fuckin’ feedback”. But Shelley, like any cat, is the arch observer, and his shrewd lyrics, new and old, are a huge part of why the Buzzcocks are still relevant.
New drummer Danny Farrant had two days to learn the set when he joined earlier this year; any difficulties he may have had are long gone. Tony Barber, bass player for most of the reformation years, seems to be distancing himself a little, hiding behind wrap-around shades that could almost double as a welding mask. But perhaps that distance is appropriate to his position with the group; he produced their latest recordings.
Happily enough it’s with ‘Flat-Pack Philosophy’, title track on the new album, that the set opens. Any doubts that aging punks can write great new songs are immediately dispelled and we get five or six more of them. Where the earliest Buzzcocks material was all lust and hormones, the new stuff is, well, more philosophical. Shelley deservedly gets most of the kudos for the Buzzcocks’ songwriting, but Diggle’s ‘Sell You Everything’ is a clear highlight, at least among these newcomers.
Yet as good as the new material is, the Buzzcocks have a legacy to deal with. Has there ever been a singles album as good as the original, shorter version of ‘Singles Going Steady’? That’s a rhetorical question, of course – no need to waste your time trying to think of something better. And as soon as the band start to play the old stuff the crowd goes just a little bit wild.
What keeps the show from being great is that the songs are treated with too much respect, too much reverence. Everything from the Buzzcocks’ seventies heyday is played in facsimile of the original versions – and is weakened in the act. Their new material shows that Shelley and Diggle have grown and changed over the years while remaining damn fine writers, but they haven’t let their old material grow with them. Songs as good as these would work in almost any form or style and some reinvention would likely bring new insight. There’s an expression to the effect that “everything fixed is killed” and it seems appropriate here.
That said, we’re talking about a night when some good, tight musicians played some fantastic songs to an enthusiastic crowd. Mustn’t grumble.
To his left we have Pete Shelley, and if Diggle is the over-enthusiastic puppy, Shelley seems world-weary, jaded and a little blasé, like an ageing cat that’s ready to lash out at anyone who invades his space. Looks are exchanged when Diggle bounces too close, but the only real lash-out is reserved for the crew when he screams for someone to “kill that fuckin’ feedback”. But Shelley, like any cat, is the arch observer, and his shrewd lyrics, new and old, are a huge part of why the Buzzcocks are still relevant.
New drummer Danny Farrant had two days to learn the set when he joined earlier this year; any difficulties he may have had are long gone. Tony Barber, bass player for most of the reformation years, seems to be distancing himself a little, hiding behind wrap-around shades that could almost double as a welding mask. But perhaps that distance is appropriate to his position with the group; he produced their latest recordings.
Happily enough it’s with ‘Flat-Pack Philosophy’, title track on the new album, that the set opens. Any doubts that aging punks can write great new songs are immediately dispelled and we get five or six more of them. Where the earliest Buzzcocks material was all lust and hormones, the new stuff is, well, more philosophical. Shelley deservedly gets most of the kudos for the Buzzcocks’ songwriting, but Diggle’s ‘Sell You Everything’ is a clear highlight, at least among these newcomers.
Yet as good as the new material is, the Buzzcocks have a legacy to deal with. Has there ever been a singles album as good as the original, shorter version of ‘Singles Going Steady’? That’s a rhetorical question, of course – no need to waste your time trying to think of something better. And as soon as the band start to play the old stuff the crowd goes just a little bit wild.
What keeps the show from being great is that the songs are treated with too much respect, too much reverence. Everything from the Buzzcocks’ seventies heyday is played in facsimile of the original versions – and is weakened in the act. Their new material shows that Shelley and Diggle have grown and changed over the years while remaining damn fine writers, but they haven’t let their old material grow with them. Songs as good as these would work in almost any form or style and some reinvention would likely bring new insight. There’s an expression to the effect that “everything fixed is killed” and it seems appropriate here.
That said, we’re talking about a night when some good, tight musicians played some fantastic songs to an enthusiastic crowd. Mustn’t grumble.
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