There were no decent dancers in the 80s - the music didn't lend itself to the sashay. And that deficit was much in evidence* last night, at the gorgeous Fox Theater in Oakland.* I'm not sure if a "deficit" can be "much in evidence", in the same way a "secret" cannot logically be "obvious", so sue me for assault with a deadly phrase.
As Echo & The Bunnymen delivered two sets, the first a performance of their 1984 album Ocean Rain, followed by another 45 minutes of classics, the assorted post-punks and pre-baggies barely kept in time.
Thanks to our hosts, Mikki and Jonny Larner (owner of The Independent venue in SF), we were in the friends and family section, which afforded plenty of "dancing" space for keen fans like the thirty-something woman writhing and swirling next to us, clearly channeling Siouxsie Sioux while auditioning for second witch in the next Harry Potter movie.
But what about the music? At his and their best, Ian McCulloch and the band sound like Richard Ashcroft and The Verve. At their worst, there are comparisons with plenty lacklustre 80s outfits. It also depends who you listen to, as to whether the first, orchestra-backed half was better than the second, band-alone set. I preferred the latter, which freed the band from the tempo and sound-system issues of balance between guitars and a string section.
Last night, McCulloch's voice showed what being raised in possibly the wettest part of England (Liverpool), and smoking 2 packs of Marlboro a day can do to a man. At times he sounded less Ian Curtis and more aging Neil Diamond. He also demonstrated a grumpiness akin to Mark Smith and the Gallaghers, which makes me wonder how hard it must be to stay pissed off for 25 years!
Curiously, the lighting carefully kept McCulloch in near total darkness. On one of those rare occasions when he WAS visible, he shouted "turn the effing lights off!!!".
So there it is then, Ian McCulloch's a vampire.
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