By Monk and The Dark Queen
There has been an awful lot of discussion on various social media platforms recently about advance ticket sales for gigs, and particularly the effect a poor performance in that regard can have a serious impact on promoters’ collective and individual abilities to stage said shows. It’s an extremely complex situation, with multiple factors having to be considered, and one not helped by fuel being added to the fire by so-called industry “insiders” adding their ill-informed and ill-judged (and in some cases extremely inaccurate) tuppence worth to the debate…
Tonight’s gig was just one example of the maelstrom in which far too many promoters find themselves, particularly in this little corner of the Überverse, with an offline conversation earlier the week revealing that advance sales were, shall we be diplomatic and say somewhat disappointing… However, one of the multiple factors I mentioned is the propensity of people to, just as in pre-Covid days before advance sales became a necessity in order to control audience numbers during the emergence from the pandemic, decide on the night whether or not they could afford to expend some of their hard earned dosh on a night on the town – and so it proved this very evening as a healthy crowd actually ventured into the city centre and up the steep stairs of this storied venue for a night of what should have been vintage sleaze rock…
The small matter of a pretty important rugby match meant that we cut our arrival pretty fine, and it has to be admitted that the audience was still pretty thin on the (dance)floor as openers Dead Addiction nevertheless took on an energetic, adrenaline- and sleaze-fuelled thrill ride through the back alleys of this here vice-ridden city. The newly hirsute Joe Murphy does his best to whip the still tiny crowd into a frenzy, while his bandmates once again lay everything on the stage… the only downer is a rather unnecessary, and it has to be said pedantic, version of ‘Two Minutes To Midnight’, which ironically somewhat sets the tone for some of what is to come… Nevertheless, another passionate and committed set from the beys \m/
Crowd numbers, thankfully, have started to swell by the time tour support Zach Waters Band launch into their grungy, blues rock, which is packed with plenty of gristle and grit, combined with a SoCal-meets-NOLA vibe, acidic guitar grooves and a beautifully rich, thick bass sound.
While the set is dominated by two elongated cover jams, in the shape of ‘All Day And All Of The Night’ and ‘Voodoo Chile’, albeit with both of them allowing Waters to extrapolate his not inconsiderable fretboard wizardry to the full, the highlight is the cheekily observational ‘I’ve Had Enough’, allegedly written about their tour van getting stuck in the mud outside Edinburgh earlier on the run. Guys, you had 35 minutes: you didn’t need to take up half of that time with someone else’s songs especially when you have a damn fine repertoire of your own stuff…
Which takes us neatly on to our headliners, and one of the weirdest set choices I have come across in a long, long time. Now, we all know Chip Z’Nuff is a HUGE Beatles fan – hell, he recorded an entire solo album of Lennon/McCartney classics – but we all thought we were coming to see an Enuff Z’Nuff show, not a tribute to the Fab Four 🙁
We should have known what was to come when Chip opened the set with a fairly mundane ‘Magical Mystery Tour’: over the course of the ensuing 65 minute set, and despite the singer ranting about the early curfew – “we’ve got 20 albums and 400 songs, we could play to next Thursday” – we get no fewer than another THREE covers, taking up around a quarter of that invaluable song list.
OK, all of the big EZ’N pops are in there: we’re taken on a trip on ‘The Love Train’, we’re told that our baby loves us, we fly high with Michelle and find out that what Chip and the boys are doing is not exactly a ‘New Thing’ but can still be an exciting prospect – if it wasn’t for the covers and the singer’s surprising lackadaisical stage manner. Despite towering over the crowd in his trademark platform heels and captain’s hat (which adds at least another nine inches to his height), he hardly moves from behind the mic stand, expending little time and energy – although he does so in terms of continually reminding us of his age – in creating a dynamic performance, leaving that to his younger band, who bounce around like teenagers who have managed to sneak into their local club without having their ID checked.
All in all, a curate’s egg of a gig. Another defiant slap in the face to those who seem to believe the Belfast rock scene is dead and people would rather sit at home with their slippers on, supping Horlicks and watching repeats of ‘Love Island’ (well, the critics would anyway), but one which would have benefitted from the two main acts placing more emphasis on their own material.
- All photos © The Dark Queen/Uber Rock.
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