Goodbye Mr Mackenzie, much like GUN (although not to the same extent), have been a fixture in my life since my youth, when everything mattered and passions ran deep.
 |
| Hammer and Tongs cassette insert (album cost £7.99) |
 |
| Tower Records signing, March 10th, 1991. |
Back to today. Much like then, I'd been told to tidy my room, only this time by my wife, not my mum. Unlike then, the task turned a lingering pulled back muscle into a spasming nightmare. Not what you want to experience before a standing gig.
I was on my own for tonight. My wife doesn't mind Goodbye Mr Mackenzie, but wasn't bothered about going to this gig. I headed out early to find a space to park on Byres Road to be there for the doors opening (another reason she sometimes declines my gig invitations). I had taken Paracetamol, but it wasn't enough to take the edge off every bump on the road.
I found an excellent place to park, only slightly hampered by the annoying youth who didn't comprehend the rules of reverse parking, specifically not standing beside the car in front of the space. Once he moved on, I slid in. The sun was still hot with lots of young, gorgeous women walking about the cool West End, but in my condition, slightly hunched and sauntering, they paid me little attention. Nothing to see but an old man in pain. Ignore him in case he needs help.
There was no queue, just a few single blokes hovering outside the venue, the kind of thing that generates an eye roll and a huff from my wife, so thank goodness she wasn't there. It took a couple standing right beside the doors and one other person to stand behind them to trigger the queue. I was about eighth to get in. I paid close attention to the stone, spiral stairs as I climbed to the auditorium, not wanting to put a foot wrong and trigger another spasm. It's so embarrassing to cry out in pain in front of strangers.
I didn't stand at the stage barrier, deciding instead that the raised bar area behind the mixing desk was a safer bet. I bought a drink and claimed the spot. Martin Metcalfe wandered up to the merch stand, holding a single maraca. He talked to the guy on the stall, who then disappeared for a while, leaving Martin on his own. The merch hadn't been unpacked yet, still in its boxes. At this point, the venue was still relatively quiet, but one fan went up to chat with Martin. I didn't want to risk losing my spot, so I left them to it. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. My awkward shyness would have kicked in. One thing I noted is that Martin, in his civvies, doesn't give off star quality. His quiet demeanour doesn't shout extrovert. Those baggy, sunken eyes look like they have a few demons lurking behind them.
I spotted the Lighting Setlist on the desk, so took a snap of it (see below) before the recently installed air con unit blew it onto the floor. I then waited for the show to begin, reading a book on my Kindle app and flicking through Facebook, the usual. I spotted someone I know passing nearby, but couldn't immediately recall her first name, so I didn't shout out to attract her attention. I messaged her instead, not wanting to leave and lose my perfect viewing position.
The young lad on the sound desk started tapping a button, generating a drumbeat as the support act wandered on. No fanfare, no introduction, just a bloke with an electric acoustic guitar. I couldn't discern much of what he said between songs, but his music was okay. I'd describe it as dark and ominous, what you might hear on an unsettling folk horror soundtrack, a style that Martin Metcalfe would lap up. After his half hour was done, the drumbeat from the last song persisted until he left the stage, whereupon the sound tech attenuated the signal to zero. (Chris did explain he usually had a drummer on stage with him, but tonight he was solo.)
 |
| I don't know if he ever opened his eyes while he played. |
 |
| The couple in the foreground seem familiar from my time working in Ralston. |
I caught up with Jackie during the break, while she was on her way outside for a fag (We also chatted after the gig, before providing her and her mate, Greg, with a lift home).
I was so pleased when the tech crew commandeered an electric fan behind the sound desk. Whenever I lowered my arms over the railing, I could feel the cool breeze. Despite six aircon units located around the hall, the heat was only building, sweat coating my skin like I'd been shagging all night (a distant memory, and an image you'll despise me for planting in your head).
 |
| I'm a fan! |
The Mackenzies arrived on stage at 9 p.m. It takes Big John a bit longer to get settled into his chair as he's on crutches thanks to his MS (no leaving the stage for the encore). Martin, in his stage costume and sunglasses, is a different beast from the one offstage. He has a commanding presence and has the audience in his thrall. They played several songs from the recently revived album, Five, so the gig had a different feel from the previous ones where they focused on their early, commercial albums. The sound is fierce, more guitar-based, with Tippi Hedron (in the Shirley Manson role) also playing along, making three guitarists on stage, taking the pressure off Big John.
I love it! I'm back to my younger days. My back isn't sore, the heat in the place acting like a sauna. My view is clear and uninterrupted. I'm not being jostled. I can bop to the music and sing to my heart's content. Wonderful!
Martin's singing was mostly good, though not as strong or as clear as Tippi's. He made vocal choices to protect his voice. That didn't matter because the songs and lyrics are so embedded in my brain, I loved hearing them again. I hadn't listened to Face to Face in years, and its subject matter still packs a punch today.
If there were any downsides, the sound mix wasn't great where I was standing. It looked weird when Martin and Tippi crouched down to sing on Niagara, leaving no one but the front couple of rows any chance of seeing them. Martin also hid his face behind his hat as he sang the early part of The Rattler. That seemed odd until I heard the lyric, "I don't like people to know my face". I wondered why they didn't add Bam Bam to the set, given the song is short and was one of the singles from the Five album, reaching 65 in the UK charts.
But these niggles are minor. I had a good night. The back pain returned when I left the venue, the cool night air doing its work to tighten the muscles. I managed to get everyone home, though, without yelping.
Another joyous trip down memory lane.
Setlist
 |
| Lighting suggestions, inked with a marker pen. Difficult to achieve, though, given the venue's limited resources. (Plus daylight was still visible through the roof's windows for most of the gig). |
About Event
As part of Oran Mor’s 21 years of live music celebrations, we have a very special performance from celebrated Scottish band Goodbye Mr MacKenzie, who have been touring to mark the 30th anniversary re-release of their album “Five” via the Last Night From Glasgow label.
“Five” was the first release on the MacKenzie’s own label, Blokshok Records, which they set up after splitting with major labels back in 1994. It marked a turning point in the band’s musical path, following on from the more polished, radio-friendly first two albums. “Five” has a much harder, rougher edge – no real surprise, perhaps, considering the importance of Punk to the Mackenzies generally. The influence of Grunge, Nick Cave and The Pixies is also clearly evident.
As the List said in their 50 Greatest Scottish Bands review: “The Mackenzies left behind the most complex and fascinating footprint of any Scottish band. Live, they were stunning. Lead singer Martin Metcalfe looked like the MC of a particularly debauched cabaret troupe. While their Scottish counterparts were looking at soul and Steeleye Dan for inspiration, the Mackenzies were taking theirs from The Pixies and The Birthday Party.”
 |
| Which album are you celebrating, Martin? |
 |
| Show's over. |
No comments:
Post a Comment