2-Tone ska legends THE SELECTER have enjoyed something of a renaissance during 2013. Released in February, their critically-acclaimed ‘String Theory’ has served them well, launching a year of frenetic touring, including 3 separate US trips, festivals and a much-vaunted Coachella Festival appearance.
Thus, finishing the year off with a high profile PiL support seems fine and dandy, even if – on paper – The Selecter’s bouncy, Jamaican-infused fare may seem like chalk and cheese when stacked up against John Lydon and his resurrection men.
So much for the theory, though, for the reality is far better. As it transpires, this revitalised version of The Selecter is surely the best since their glory days on the cusp of the 1980s. Though only Pauline Black - looking impossibly cute in black suit, gingham blouse and gorgeous pink shoes - and her tireless vocal foil/ toaster/ MC Arthur ‘Gaps’ Hendrickson remain from the Coventry veterans’ original incarnation, this tight, drilled line-up plays with a hunger and precision that was certainly missing during their 1990s reformation.
Indeed, it’s a credit to their resolve that the songs from ‘String Theory’ mingle so seamlessly with the tried’ n’ tested classics. Certainly the urgent ‘London’s Burning’ is as good as anything from their first 2 LPs, while their dynamic cover of ‘The Avengers Theme’ – tonight played back to back with their taut Skatalites-style version of Monty Norman’s ‘James Bond Theme’ – is simply a delight.
The hits, of course, speak eloquently for themselves and then come in a rush at the end. ‘3-Minute Hero’ is as vigorous as ever; ‘Missing Words’ smoulders and grooves and ‘On My Radio’ inevitably provokes a mass sing-along despite the tricks-y, dummy-selling rhythms of its chorus. Craftily purloining a snatch of Toots & The Maytals’ ‘Pressure Drop’, meanwhile, ‘Too Much Pressure’ ensures their wickedly life-affirming set ends sunny side up. Ace.
As for PiL’s third (fourth?) coming, there are plenty of naysayers who understandably believe they can’t ever be the colossus they were without Jah Wobble and/or Keith Levene. They may well have a point, though personally this writer’s just glad John Lydon’s finally decided to resort to something more substantial than flogging the dead horse of the Sex Pistols’ reputation or selling English Country Life by the pound.
“Their fuckin’ sales have plummeted since,” Lydon cackles during one of tonight’s surprisingly few scabrous ‘tween song outbursts. “Hur hur...salted or unsalted, vicar?"
Very witty. For the most part, though, Johnny ain’t really that rotten tonight, merely just a little musty. Some wonderfully grotesque facial moves aside, it’s all a bit music hall. In the main, it’s the music that winds him up rather than the crowd and maybe that’s a good thing, because this hard-edged, contemporary PiL are actually pretty damn good.
Besides, while Levene and Wobble will always cast a long shadow, this new PiL have continuity enough to get by. After all, both drummer Bruce Smith (ex-The Pop Group/ The Slits) and formerly fresh-faced former Damned/ Billy Bragg guitarist Lu Edmonds (who now resembles a bizarre amalgam of Frank Zappa and Rasputin) were integral parts of the post-‘Album’ late ‘80s PiL. Unflappable bassist/ sample manipulator Scott Firth, meanwhile, has also quickly stepped up to the plate, but then he did survive The Spice Girls’ final tour.
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So this is PiL? Yeah, for sure, even if their set is a little arcane in its make-up and pacing. Almost immediately, Firth’s subterranean bass whacks us remorselessly in the gut throughout the motorik, ten-minute nightmare of ‘Albatross’, while Lydon’s banshee wail threatens to crack panes during a fractious ‘Careering’. ‘This Is Not A Love Song’, however, sounds lean and supple, though it’s a shame it’s spoilt by one inevitable wanker out to cause trouble down the front. His reason? That he can get away with it, apparently. The twat.
Elsewhere, this writer must plead unfamiliarity with much of the recent ‘This Is PiL’ material, though the striking ‘Deep Water’ is certainly a robust and dangerous siren’s song and ‘One Drop’ – Lydon’s suitably militant ode to his early days in Finsbury Park - is sounding increasingly essential. A typically ominous ‘Death Disco’ apparently signals the start of the endgame, but then, after a couple more unremarkable numbers from the new LP, they suddenly up sticks and leave. Oh.
It’s all a bit mystifying. So was that all? Was that PiL? Oh no, hang on, here they are again. “You knew we’d be back,” sneers Lydon as they clatter into a jagged ‘Public Image’; taking this encore malarkey by the scruff of the neck and sending the hall stark staring radio rental within seconds.
From thereon in, it’s theirs for the taking with a raucous sing-along erupting during a mega-bouncy ‘Rise’ before W&H are finally forced to take cover from the eye of the moshpit storm during the clanging, metallic wind-down of ‘Open Up.’ A suitably uncompromising ending to a bout involving two wildly different post-punk titans lifting themselves back up off the canvas, but on balance The Selecter just shaded it on points.
PiL online
The Selecter online
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