After watching The Primitives play just around the corner a few nights back, TV Smith's revisiting The Adverts technically equates to my second 'reformation' gig in a week. I'm rather sceptical of such things if the truth be known. It's not just the suspicion that many of the bands are seeing pound signs while they go through the motions, rather than feel any real connection to the music they made half a lifetime ago, but the very real danger that seeing a bunch of fat old middle-aged duffers reliving their youth will sully the memories of some excellent bands. Here’s where I suffer a quandry: is it better to accept that you were too young or simply missed out on a band at the time than risk that disappointment, or to see a band you’ve loved for years for the first time when they’re long past their prime?
This is a real dilemma for me where TV Smith is concerned. The Adverts' debut album is a strong contender for my favourite punk album of all time. The Adverts were always apart from their peers, demonstrating a degree of wit and eloquence not generally associated with the punk movement. The band gave the nihilistic punk template a unique twist and level of sophistication. Small wonder their fans often consider them to be superior to lumpen pub rockers like the Sex Pistols.
I needn't have worried. While he may be old - at 55, Smith wears his grey hair in a decidedly un-punk haircut - neither spiked nor cropped - he's anything but fat, a veritable twig of a man, and thus avoids the stereotypical 'fat old punk' cliche for starters. And from the second he arrives on stage, it's obvious he's not only the real deal, but, more importantly, doing this for all the right reasons. Addressing the obvious question of 'why now?' Smith delivers a brief rant and points out that the songs he wrote age 20 are as relevant now as then, if not more so. He's right, too: we've still got a crap government to rail against, and the media is the all-encompassing opium of the masses. This comeback, then, is a call to arms, and as they rip into 'No Time to be 21' - what a way to start a set! - it feels like the most vital thing I've witnessed in years.
It's straight into 'Safety in Numbers' and there's no let-up as they blast through half of the classic yet criminally underrated 'Crossing the Red Sea'. Smith careers around the stage like a man possessed, high-kicking and cavorting here there and everywhere. In The Valentines, Smith's found a band who don't just play, but feel the songs. It really does put so many of today's contemporary so-called punk acts to shame, and stands in stark contract with so many other comebacks. It would have been far more lucrative and high profile to have played a handful of festival dates, but playing hard and fast and with total conviction in a string of smaller venues seems just so much more true to the sprit of punk, and so much more sincere. Proof positive that it really is about the music and not the money.
|
After tearing through a good chunk of the first album, including a rabble-rousing 'Bombsite Boy', Smith and his cohorts turn their attention to a selection from the lesser-known follow-up, 'Cast of Thousands', before returning to the serious business of 'Gary Gilmore's Eyes.' The crowd go mental, and the oldest most-pit I've ever seen erupts, almost spilling onto the stage in the absence of a barrier. It's then headlong into 'Bored Teenagers', before ending the set with 'One Chord Wonders'.
The audience isn't going to let the band they've waited so many years to hear play again leave without an encore... or two. Having exhausted The Adverts material, the second encore sees Smith and The Valentines tear into the Lords of the New Church track 'The Lord's Prayer'. The band, and Smith in particular, looks to be having as much fun as the audience. And rightly so: tonight we saw a band on fire, and concrete proof that the spirit of '77 is most definitely alive and kicking.
|
