venta

Blimey, Thursday's a long time ago, isn't it ? However...

I only ever go to the ICA (the Institute of Contemporary Arts) to go to gigs. As a result, I tend to forget that it does many other things, and was slightly surprised to run into

satyrica in the foyer, on his way to the pictures. (Which reminds me, Satyrica, I'm in London reasonably often these days so if you fancy meeting up for half a pint of ginger beer and a slightly longer chat ever, give me a shout?)

However, I managed to avoid such pitfalls as cinemas and galleries, and safely made it into the small, dark gig venue. I paused only to interact with the bar, and, having stolen a mouthful of Jamie's pint, I have to admit that I'm coming to the conclusion that I quite like wheat beer. I always thought I didn't, because I don't like Hoegaarden, but Jamie tells me that's largely irrelevant.

The Vichy Government

When we arrived there was a solitary bloke standing on stage, alternately smoking and reading unintelligibly from a book over a slightly bleepy backing. I couldn't help feeling that he was missing a black jumper and a beret to complete the effect - he certainly had the floppity hair and faint suggestion that he live in a garret.

Shortly after, he was joined onstage by a bloke with perfectly sleek white-blonde hair, a violent pink and blue striped jumper and a black plastic miniskirt. Imagine, if you will, one scruffy garret individual producing drum-machine and cheap Casio keyboard (circa 1982) noises, and one androgynous blonde ranting in a thick Irish accent about all and sundry.

Top lyric of the evening: "You'll get a gram of coke and a lollipop, there's a good girl".

Their final track, Luke Haines is Dead (after which they claim his recent 3-CD set was named) actually seemed to have more form and be more interesting that the previous songs. In fairness, they were a lot more compelling than that description makes them sound, but the overall effect was "eh?".

Rock and roll points to them: lacking a drummer or a guitarist, they could throw neither sticks nor plectra into the audience. Instead, they threw the books from which they'd been reading. You know you're at an arts institute when the close of an act on stage means you risk a copy of Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary in the eye.

I think, as

chrestomancy once said about Donnie Darko, I'd give The Vichy Government odd out of ten.

John Moore

John Moore, poor chap, is probably doomed to be known perennially as "the other bloke out of black Box Recorder", notable only for this saw playing. However, it seems he's got a solo album out at the moment, and I rather enjoyed his set.

As he started into his songs, I was very much reminded of Luke Haines' songwriting style - it's easy to see why they collaborated well. However, where Haines never for a minute lets you forget that he means every word he sings, and perpetually gives the impression that he is sneering at everything, John Moore has much more of an air that underneath it all he's actually a very likeable guy. Sure, he's equally happy poking fun at English attitudes and values, but it's somehow much gentler fun, and flashes of humanity regularly show through. At one stage, playing Luke Haines' guitar because his own had died the previous evening, he created a squeeeeel sound by running a plectrum up one string and confided with a wicked grin "I've always wanted to do that to his guitar".

While he was singing away, my mind turned to what I could remember of the poem The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna[*]. It turned out that John Moore's mind was doing the same and he read the poem, in sonorous tones, to surprisingly enthusiastic applause.

Luke Haines (and, latterly, a couple of Auteurs)

Although the gig had been described (by Moore) as "Luke Haines' Memorial Service", Haines was looking mostly healthy as he made it on stage. He does appear to have aged around ten years in the last two, and has an extremely ill-advised hairdo and moustache combo, but he does seem still to be alive.

The first half of the gig was solo acoustic, revealing that he can play his strangely-gaffer-taped guitar a lot better than Moore can. He introduced a song early in the set: this is a song about the pop-paedophile Jonathon King, before going on to comment that paedophiles were so last year, and that it's all terrorism these days. The best thing about the small venue at the ICA is that you, and the artists on stage, can easily hear heckles, so the yell of "do you know any songs about terrorism?" was clearly audible. Last time he played at the ICA he introduced around half his songs as this is a song about terrorism.

I did wonder whether he'd skip the Baader Meinhof songs in view of what one might euphemistically call "the current climate"; he didn't, which is what I'd expect. In response to another audience heckle, he agreed to put out Bad Reputation (a song about the pop-paedophile Gary Glitter) out as a Christmas single. Watch this space.

Sidling quietly onto the stage, with the air of session musicians rather than bandmembers, there came a bassist and a drummer. Surprisingly, very little of the material from the recent Luke Haines is Dead collection made it onto the setlist - instead we got a fairly hefty chunk of After Murder Park, including unexpected tracks like Child Brides and Dead Sea Navigators. And I've just spotted someone posting on an online forum asking "Is it wrong to dance to Unsolved Child Murder?" :)

I was thinking during the gig that Mr Haines looked more comfortable on stage, more inclined to banter, more of a personality than when I'd seen him before. Maybe his legendary hatred of live gigs was exaggerated ? But then, something seemed to go a little awry during the encores (encores plural! unheard of!).

During the first encore he and his band blasted through (I think) Light Aircraft on Fire and Lenny Valentino. And yet, as they belted our the crowd pleasers, he suddenly had an air of just going through the motions. Maybe even looking down on the crowd for liking such "obvious" songs. The second encore was an acoustic version of Future Generations, where he sang the line "and of course I love the old songs, from New Wave to Murder Park" while emphatically shaking his head. I do wonder - does he get bored of songs, once written, and thus despise his own fanbase for wanting to hear them ?

Idle speculation, of course, but a plausible-sounding theory to me.

I still think that Mr Haines' songwriting makes it onto the list of the UK music industry's best kept secrets. Sure, he'll never achieve widespread fame and chart popularity simply because his songs aren't terribly boogieworthy, and require too much thinking. But I think I'm still surprised that so many people would say "who?" or "oh, the guy out of Black Box Recorder". Go on, give 'im a listen. You might like it.

[*] They buried him dark at dead of night, the sods.