Manic Street Preachers - Journal For Plague Lovers
Last month, the elder statesmen of Welsh rock released the hotly anticipated Journal For Plague Lovers – comprising for the first time in over ten years, the lyrical input of missing-member Richey Edwards.
Paul meets The Specials
Here’s the second half of our interview with The Specials. Click here if you haven’t read the other bit!
Paul meets The Specials
On Monday 4th May 2009, legendary band THE SPECIALS were preparing for the second consecutive show at the Manchester Apollo on their 30th Anniversary Reunion Tour. Muso’s Guide’s very own Paul Wilson met up with guitarist Lynval Golding and drummer John Bradbury for an exclusive interview on everything from their chequered past to the bright outlook for a ‘Special’ future; read on to find out more.
The Specials - with our very own Paul Wilson
May 3/4, 2009
The wait is finally over. Whispers had been around for a number of years of a possible Specials reformation, with many gigs and promoters listing events with ‘very SPECIAL’ guests – only to lead to increased frustration. The excitement upon the announcement of a 30th Anniversary UK Tour back in December 2008 really is tangible. Internet forums and groups buzz and salivate over the news, speculating over everything from the line-up to the support bands to the setlist. Now, the wait is finally over. 30 years in the making. A long time to wait…
The thronging Manchester crowd pulsate backwards and forwards, suitably entertained by the DJ stylings of Felix Hall [son of vocalist, Terry] playing a mixture of classic ska tunes to stoke the fires at the beginning of what will surely prove to be an unforgettable night. A true sense of the occasion is most pertinently felt when it is announced over the PA system that the arrival of The Specials onto the stage is a mere two minutes away. Almost immediately, a surge of bodies come forward – positioning and jockeying for their position near to the barrier, near to their heroes.
The crowd resemble a strange cross-section of the music-loving public, a ska-loving public in particular. Ranging from 40-year-old men dressed up in their white shirts in braces and Doc Martens to 16-year-olds in tight Fred Perry t-shirts and chequered trainers. To this day, I’ve never seen a more solid example of a group crossing generational barriers. Whilst all of this excitement is going on, one can’t help but to gaze around the venue – taking the entire atmosphere in. It’s a healthy one, spritely and ready for action. After all, they’ have been waiting 28 years for this.
Then it happens. The opening strains of ‘Enjoy Yourself, It’s Later Than You Think’ begins to ring out across the venue’s sound system, provoking a mass singalong. Such celebrations are cut short after one chorus by the thrashing rhythm of John Bradbury as he launches into ‘Do The Dog’. Well, that’s it. The white curtain separating the band from the audience drops, immediately revealing the band in all of their glory. There they are. Two separate audible cheers can be recognised, firstly for the opening song but more importantly for the sight of this bunch of musicians back together on the same stage. Magical, mysterious, miraculous. The look of wonder in people’s eyes gave off a truly lovely sensation.
“All you punks and all you teds/National Front, and natty dreads/Mods, rockers, hippies and skinheads/Keep on fighting ‘till you’re dead” – it’s like they’ve never been away. For those fortunate enough to have seen the band in their original days, it is as if the clock had been rolled back to 1979 again. For the younger generation, it was the start of a musical journey of discovery. It is relentless and most impressively, effortless. The power of this band is something that has to be seen to be believed. Segueing smoothly into ‘(Dawning Of A) New Era’, we are up and running. Time becomes a secondary factor as the sheer enjoyment of the occasion sweeps up all within its path. Never before have I seen a venue so quite literally full of everyone dancing in a riotous and celebratory fashion. It’s difficult to gauge who is more up for the event, the band or the crowd; a battle of wills with only one result – delirium.
Surely before they leave themselves any time to draw a breath, The Specials are striking up into another hit. Neville Staple saunters to the front of the stage, leaning over the monitors so much so that the whites of his eyes are disturbingly visible. With a sneer on his face, he screams those magic words – “BERNIE RHODES KNOWS, DON’T ARGUE!” This is the moment that this gig truly lifts off into the stratosphere. The band are tight and together, complimented by the fantastic brass section, all smoothed over by the sumptuous vocals of Terry Hall. There’s skanking to be found all across the venue. Even a short glance up to the balcony affords the viewer with the sight of everybody on their feet, grooving and moving to the beat.
Even the traditionally stone-faced Terry Hall gets into the mood for a party – “I’d just like to say, from the bottom of my heart [reaches around his torso frantically], where is your heart? Is this right? Well, ok, from the bottom of there I’d like to say thank you very much because you’ve made us very fucking happy.” Cue deafening cheers. You get the sense that the sentiment is very much reciprocated.
To say that this is a band at the top of their game is nothing short of a lie. This is a band at the top of anyone’s game, better than what anybody else can offer – these are the gigs of 2009. With any luck, there’ll be plenty more to come. I can’t imagine those who attended these shows having any qualms about shelling out again. Quite simply, I’ve run out of superlatives to shower The Specials with – controversial seventh member, or not. It just doesn’t matter.
Rattling through a set with such brilliant and timeless songs as ‘Friday Night, Saturday Morning’, ‘Rat Race’, ‘Man At C & A’, ‘Concrete Jungle’, ‘A Message To You’, ‘Blank Expression’…you get the idea. Each song is belted out passionately by this Mancunian crowd with just a little more firepower than the one before. Striding off after a sensational version of their No. 1 hit from 1981 – ‘Ghost Town’ – one can only imagine the look on their faces as they gather backstage. Not that this audience would let them rest for long, however. Instantly, clapping and chanting broke out to the tune of the drumming within ‘Concrete Jungle’ – with an almighty ‘SPECIALS’ belted out at the end of it. Within minutes, they’re back.
A sharp and short piece of trumpet pierces through the Apollo’s air. Leaving an unbearable gap, Hall stares towards the back of the room – before declaring with excitement [well, as much excitement as it may be possible for Mr. Hall to convey at any one time] – ‘Too Much, Too Young’. Touching upon the themes of teenage pregnancy, the message is as relevant now as it ever was. The fact that the lyrics are now being sung by the children of people who bought the record upon its original release is surely a matter of great pride to the band. Young and old embrace it and dance and shout together as one. The skanking is stepped up a level by the arrival of ‘Skinhead Moonstomp’ as the gig heightens in pace.
Then, it is all over. The final refrains of ‘Enjoy Yourself’ reverberate around the auditorium and it’s all wrapped up. The house lights come up, revealing the smiles on a couple of thousand faces. Sweat drips all around onto a floor covered in empty pint glasses. It’s impossible not to pick up a sense that the crowd had forgiven The Specials for making them wait so long; it’s been everything they always hoped it would be. After years of hypothesising and wondering, they have finally been given the answers. Are they still up to the task? Are they still hungry to play their music? Will they be able to keep it together? Yes. Yes. Yes.
Lynval Golding comments on the support act, Kid British, stating that they are one of the bands finally worthy of ‘passing the baton’ on to, yet I cannot help but feel there is more to come from his band first. The pretenders to the throne will have to wait. It’s not over yet. It’s a soul thing. Putting all of the unavoidable sentimental business surrounding this band to one side, credit must be given to the band for the quality of their performance. This writer can say in all fairness that they are two of the finest gigs he has ever had the good fortune to witness. That said without any form of attachment or feeling, on a sheer level of musicianship alone – it’s nothing short of inspirational. Fantastic songs cross all barriers – age, race, sex – The Specials were and are everything we always hoped they would be. Infusing powerful, political and personal lyrics with some dazzling and spectacular music – the population still need this band. Long live the kings.
Interview to follow shortly…
Paul meets KiD BRiTiSH
Fresh off the stage after supporting The Specials, Muso’s Guide caught up with James Mayer and Adio Marchant from the band for a quick chat…
Paul meets Eggsy and Billy Webb
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