Or at any rate give it one more try
Nov. 22nd, 2007 10:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaSomething which, two years ago, I thought I'd never write again:
Edwyn Collins is a one-hit wonder... twice. His band, Orange Juice, had a hit with Rip It Up and he had a solo success years later with A Girl Like You. He's also released a bunch of great stuff which has mysteriously remained comparatively unknown. I have fond memories of seeing him live at the ICA a few years ago, the venue packed but tiny. If anyone's curious, I'd recommend Gorgeous George as an introduction (though one of his other albums has the best name of any album, ever. Oh, except maybe that recent Soulwax effort which all websites seem to abbreviate).
In 2005, Edwyn Collins had two cerebral haemorrhages and for an encore contracted MRSA. He was left in a very bad state, and it seemed likely that his recording and performing days were over. I kept half an eye on his website, but the prognosis looked pretty poor.
He left hospital months later, and eventually he was back in the studio. Not singing, but mixing the album he'd recorded before the stroke. Then the surprise news: this autumn there would be gigs. I heard an interview with him and his wife on the radio as the album was released. His voice was harsh and his laugh harsher, his wife picking up his sentences for him when they got out of control.
So I arranged to go to the Arts Theatre gig with some trepidation. I have huge admiration for someone who - two years after finding themselves unable to speak, move or remember - can be back on stage. It seemed important to go and show support, and acknowledge the immense achievement. I did not, however, expect that the gig would actually be any good.
The support act weren't. They're seminal, mumble, supported the Sex Pistols, yada but fundamentally were a bit noisy and quite painful. And I've never heard anyone in a notionally professional band get quite such an unpleasant noise out of an electric guitar.
Roadies pottered round the stage setting up the usual stuff, then placing a chair and a lectern for Edwyn and arranging the most precarious-looking arrangement ever for his keyboard player. His five-piece band came on stage and noodled countrily about for a soundcheck. Then - limping badly, and supported by a roadie - Edwyn walked slowly onto the stage. The crowd, as they say, went wild.
He opened with Home Again, written and recorded before his stroke, but which tonight could be his own, strangely prophetic, anthem:
I'm home again.
Hardly certain of my role, then
I started searching for my soul again,
There was nothing I could find.
I'm home again.
But I've been here before, old friends
And I know I'll be consoled again
In the past I've left behind.
Edwyn sat on his chair, his good hand tapping on his knee (he's still not recovered use of his right hand, leaving him unable to play guitar). His voice still sounds the way it always did, but roughened and made clumsy. As he sings he sometimes misses notes, or stumbles over words; it's as if he's trying to do fine work while wearing thick gloves. His dynamic range is gone. Speaking between songs, he halts over words, sounding strangely like the cut-and-paste voices which make railway announcements.
About half way into the second song, I'm aware of a slight sense of relaxing. In defiance of the odds, it's still a damn good show. In between the songs from the new album, favourites like Make Me Feel Again come out sounding as good as old. People are not clapping out of nostalgia or out of support, they're applauding the performance. I don't know how much work it's taken to get to this stage, but the sheer happiness of Edwyn to be back in the limelight and the grins flashing between the bandmembers suggest it was worth it. Most of the audience were smiling too, singing along; I know I was grinning like a loon in the darkness.
As an aside, his backing band are fantastic. They consist of two teenage computer scientists, two aging teachers, and a peculiar posturing bloke who used to be in Aztec Camera. (NB: that's not entirely true. Well, the bit about Aztec Camera is. But the other four just look like that). They're all noteworthy in their own right. Carwyn Ellis, a self-effacing bloke in a plaid shirt who plays amazing bass. Andy Hackett, who finished his outfit with red braces and (I think) red clogs and is broad enough that when he puts the semi-acoustic down his electric guitar looks tiny. Tweedjackety Sean Reed plays keyboard, sax and sings, sometimes all in the same song. And Dave Ruffy, in his suit and scarlet waistcoat, is up there on my list of top drummers to watch. Even peculiar posturing bloke plays a mean guitar (and, lamentably, a banjo) in between posturing.
People were willing Edwyn to do well, and throughout the gig, in odd moments of silence, voices from all over the theatre yelled "it's good to see you", "welcome back", "good on you". A charitable audience, but with no need for charity. He left the stage to a standing ovation and the applause went on and on.
Welcome back, Edwyn.
Edwyn Collins is a one-hit wonder... twice. His band, Orange Juice, had a hit with Rip It Up and he had a solo success years later with A Girl Like You. He's also released a bunch of great stuff which has mysteriously remained comparatively unknown. I have fond memories of seeing him live at the ICA a few years ago, the venue packed but tiny. If anyone's curious, I'd recommend Gorgeous George as an introduction (though one of his other albums has the best name of any album, ever. Oh, except maybe that recent Soulwax effort which all websites seem to abbreviate).
In 2005, Edwyn Collins had two cerebral haemorrhages and for an encore contracted MRSA. He was left in a very bad state, and it seemed likely that his recording and performing days were over. I kept half an eye on his website, but the prognosis looked pretty poor.
He left hospital months later, and eventually he was back in the studio. Not singing, but mixing the album he'd recorded before the stroke. Then the surprise news: this autumn there would be gigs. I heard an interview with him and his wife on the radio as the album was released. His voice was harsh and his laugh harsher, his wife picking up his sentences for him when they got out of control.
So I arranged to go to the Arts Theatre gig with some trepidation. I have huge admiration for someone who - two years after finding themselves unable to speak, move or remember - can be back on stage. It seemed important to go and show support, and acknowledge the immense achievement. I did not, however, expect that the gig would actually be any good.
The support act weren't. They're seminal, mumble, supported the Sex Pistols, yada but fundamentally were a bit noisy and quite painful. And I've never heard anyone in a notionally professional band get quite such an unpleasant noise out of an electric guitar.
Roadies pottered round the stage setting up the usual stuff, then placing a chair and a lectern for Edwyn and arranging the most precarious-looking arrangement ever for his keyboard player. His five-piece band came on stage and noodled countrily about for a soundcheck. Then - limping badly, and supported by a roadie - Edwyn walked slowly onto the stage. The crowd, as they say, went wild.
He opened with Home Again, written and recorded before his stroke, but which tonight could be his own, strangely prophetic, anthem:
I'm home again.
Hardly certain of my role, then
I started searching for my soul again,
There was nothing I could find.
I'm home again.
But I've been here before, old friends
And I know I'll be consoled again
In the past I've left behind.
Edwyn sat on his chair, his good hand tapping on his knee (he's still not recovered use of his right hand, leaving him unable to play guitar). His voice still sounds the way it always did, but roughened and made clumsy. As he sings he sometimes misses notes, or stumbles over words; it's as if he's trying to do fine work while wearing thick gloves. His dynamic range is gone. Speaking between songs, he halts over words, sounding strangely like the cut-and-paste voices which make railway announcements.
About half way into the second song, I'm aware of a slight sense of relaxing. In defiance of the odds, it's still a damn good show. In between the songs from the new album, favourites like Make Me Feel Again come out sounding as good as old. People are not clapping out of nostalgia or out of support, they're applauding the performance. I don't know how much work it's taken to get to this stage, but the sheer happiness of Edwyn to be back in the limelight and the grins flashing between the bandmembers suggest it was worth it. Most of the audience were smiling too, singing along; I know I was grinning like a loon in the darkness.
As an aside, his backing band are fantastic. They consist of two teenage computer scientists, two aging teachers, and a peculiar posturing bloke who used to be in Aztec Camera. (NB: that's not entirely true. Well, the bit about Aztec Camera is. But the other four just look like that). They're all noteworthy in their own right. Carwyn Ellis, a self-effacing bloke in a plaid shirt who plays amazing bass. Andy Hackett, who finished his outfit with red braces and (I think) red clogs and is broad enough that when he puts the semi-acoustic down his electric guitar looks tiny. Tweedjackety Sean Reed plays keyboard, sax and sings, sometimes all in the same song. And Dave Ruffy, in his suit and scarlet waistcoat, is up there on my list of top drummers to watch. Even peculiar posturing bloke plays a mean guitar (and, lamentably, a banjo) in between posturing.
People were willing Edwyn to do well, and throughout the gig, in odd moments of silence, voices from all over the theatre yelled "it's good to see you", "welcome back", "good on you". A charitable audience, but with no need for charity. He left the stage to a standing ovation and the applause went on and on.
Welcome back, Edwyn.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 12:44 pm (UTC)If I were Mr Collins, I'd have used having to re-learn all my songs as an excuse to ditch Girl Like You out of the setlist. I don't dislike it, in fact I think it's a good song, but I'm quite sick of it and surely he must be too.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 03:48 pm (UTC)