I went to see OMD last night, with my usual gig-going pal TT. They were playing The Roundhouse in Camden,which is not only utterly convenient for work but now also a really great venue.
I'd been looking forward to this for ages, as I've always been a fan of - as once we called them - Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark. From Messages and Electricty, through Locomotion, etc., right up until they hit their stride in America with If You Leave (nice nostalgic Pretty In Pink backdrop) and (Forever) Live and Die (I had no idea that this one, along with Souvenir, were sung by The Other One until last night), which I didn't like then but like now, even more so after seeing them both done in the flesh. I say seeing - I'd forgotten my glasses which meant they were a bit blurry round the edges, but I coped. I had to.
This was a cut above your average Eighties revival show, which I'm not a fan of per se. But I couldn't let this one go by without catching it. Okay, they were supported by a rather weedy China Crisis, who I also liked way back when. They did their hits too, though some of them took rather a long time to recognise, except Wishful Thinking, which reminds me of having glandular fever, and Christian. It was good to hear the Pigbag funk of African and White again. I'd forgotten about that one.
So about 45 minutes later on came OMD. Still just this side of pretentious, with their slide show and industrial leanings reflected in the lighting. But they were great. Andy McClusky was full of energy, doing his mad dancing with and without the guitar. They did all the hits and I mean ALL THE HITS. And they sounded just like they did on the record, which as regular readers may know, is just how I like a gig to be. A particularly stonking Maid Of Orleans, which was preceded by Joan Of Arc (only right they should be paired up), was a particular highlight. You couldn't fault Enola Gay, Mesagges, Talking Loud and Clear with its summery feel (always reminds me of just having finished my A levels with the summer stretching ahead), Souvenir, and Sailing On The Seven Seas is a joy I've not even thought about since 1991.
So a marvellous evening, marred as usual by an irritating audience, pushing, shoving, dancing far too vigourously in far too small an area and of course the endless chatting and mobile phones held aloft. At times I felt I was watching the gig through them. There was a lot of clapping along encouraged too, and while TT is all too ready throw himself into the spirit of things, me being a natural churl means I never, ever, clap along to anything. Neither do I dance, although I may mouth the words, depending on how self-concious I'm feeling at the time.
I've noticed there are so many familes at gigs these days. They've clearly become the modern day equivalent to a day out at Windsor Safari Park. At gigs, at least baboons won't shit on your windscreen. though this being Camden Town anything's possible. When I was 17 I'd rather have died than be seen out in public with my parents by people my own age, but I suppose things are different now. However there were children of about seven, and pensioners well over 70. Gigs really have changed.
Most wanted: Japan, Elvis Costello and The Cure.
