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Getting to Patrick Watson on Thursday proved to be a bit of an ordeal. Having spent the whole week teetering on the edge of sleep I was not in my most alert state, and it wasn’t until I met friend MB at the station that I realised I had forgotten the concert tickets. Blast and damnation. No choice but to jump back on my bike and cycle through gridlock traffic in a combination of rain and hail to get the tickets back at my house and then race back to the station again. I decided I should laugh it off rather than spending the rest of the night cursing my stupidity and the horrendous weather, and put Watson’s The Storm on repeat on my iPod to add a touch of drama.
By the time we got to Paradiso in Amsterdam we had been drenched in downpours twice over. It was quite a funny scene in the bathrooms downstairs, watching everyone attempting to dry their hair under the hand dryers. The whole we-all-braved-the-storm-to-get-here vibe added to the atmoshere. Paradiso is probably my favourite venue anyway, such a difference from the vastness and anonymity of Ahoy.
The support act was a treat: up and coming Dutch band Voicst (from Amsterdam) played a nice little set and really got the audience warmed up. Their singles are well worth checking out: Everyday I Work On The Road, which got a lot of airplay on 3fm, and the older Whatever You Want From Life.
Patrick Watson & co took their time getting on stage, but then proceeded to mesmerise the audience for a good two hours. They came out looking as if they’d just woken up, hair disheveled, washed out clothes and Patrick sporting that same old cap he seems inseperable with, but there was nothing stale about their performance. They gave every song their all, sometimes a bit too much it could be argued. Particularly when some songs evolved into an all out noise fest, you could sense the audience got a bit disconnected the longer it went on.
But they know their boundaries and would then switch to a small intimate song such as the beautiful The Great Escape or Slip Into Your Skin. The band were still experimenting with chains, toothbrushes, balloons and saws, as I remember from their Lowlands gig last August. Although there was more room to experiment in Paradiso, I got the feeling there was a bit less energy and fun on stage compared to that festival show. But then I guess constant touring is a tiring affair.
It’s not to say they appeared lackluster, on the contrary. Luscious Life (my favourite) was played with real intensity for instance, and the acoustic in the audience performance of Man Under The Sea (“it’s become a bit of a party trick” Patrick chuckled) was still a lot of fun and had everybody grinning and participating. Most notably one guy in the audience who seemed so swept up by the moment he didn’t realise his screechy vocals were almost drowning Patrick out.
Well this was one concert well worth getting drenched for! I particularly enjoyed the insane and insanely talented drummer Robbie Kuster and of course the charming man himself, mr. Watson. Sweet oh luscious life.
When I was about 14, my mom and I spent the whole summer with family in Ireland as we usually did. I would be with my cousin D 24 hours a day, moping around the way teenagers do so well. I remember we used to listen to whatever dominated the charts at the time, Gabrielle’s ‘Dreams’ springs to mind, as does ‘If’ by Janet Jackson, and the Bodyguard soundtrack with songs by Whitney Houston. Cousin D has an older brother, who at that age was obviously not remotely interested in hanging out with a bunch of teenage girls. But I found him very intriguing, and the main reason for this was The Cure. I remember he had posters up on the wall and what seemed to me to be a vast record collection, all of this band with the dark and mysterious imagery. It was so far removed from Whitney and Janet that I couldn’t quite place it, but I remember it fascinated me.
Cut to January 2008, a phone call from friend RV, whose marriage to my friend MB I was lucky enough to witness at The Little Chapel of the Flowers in Las Vegas last October. She had bought tickets to The Cure as a surprise for her boyfriend, err I mean husband, and wondered if I might like to go with him as it isn’t really her cup of tea. Obviously I was more than willing to oblige! And so MB and myself headed to Ahoy, Rotterdam last night to see Robert Smith and band in action.
The concert was sold out, and it being the first time in 8 years the band played in The Netherlands it delivered what people seemed to be hoping for: a three hour cross section of their albums to date. Personally, I have to admit I’m a bit of a good weather fan of The Cure. I love the more upbeat poppy side of their work and tend to switch off when it gets too heavy or dark (which some would find ironic considering my Radiohead obsession). This meant that I would drift off a bit during their more ambient drawn out songs and the (relatively) new stuff I don’t know, and would then suddenly snap out of my lull when one of the crowdpleasers was played: Lovesong, Pictures Of You, Lullaby, Just Like Heaven…
When after roughly two hours the band finished their main set with Disintegration, I have to be honest and say I was about ready to go home: sitting in those way too close together seats, suffering from a Saint Patrick’s Day whiplash from the previous night, I was about to konk out. We decided to get up out of the seats and stand near the bar-section for the encore. That turned out to be a great idea: loads more room to move around, great view and the encore that kept giving!
Robert Smith opened the encore by asking the crowd whether we wanted 4 songs from (around?) their 1981 album Faith [applause], or 6 happy poppy songs [applause], or both [applause explosion]. So we were treated to another hour’s worth (15 songs) of encore, starting off with six of the happy poppy ones that had everyone bouncing around and screaming along, including Lovecats, Friday I’m In Love, Close To Me and Why Can’t I Be You? Then came a mix of their earliest material from the late seventies- early eighties, including Three Imaginary Boys, Fire In Cairo, Boys Don’t Cry, 10:15 Saturday Night and Killing An Arab. As opposed to most of the shows they’ve played so far in 2008, the band closed with a rocking version of A Forest. (Yes! The much-missed song the last time we saw them at Rock Werchter in 2004)
Click here for the full setlist.
I must tell “older brother” about it and ask him if he thought I would ever go see The Cure fourteen years ago. Something tells me he might be quite surprised.
Thank you RV, it was a great night!!
Check out this clip someone took of Lovesong at the concert last night:
New Zealand. Where people go barefoot and sheep stop traffic. Where’s kiwi’s are furry fruit, flightless birds and friendly people all at once. Our month travelling around this amazing country was many things (most notably incredibly relaxing and breathtakingly beautiful), however, a journey of musical discovery it was not.
Many of our roadtripping hours were spent scanning the kiwi airwaves in an attempt to find a radio station that would play some decent music (and with a broadcasting radius further than 1 mile out of town…). You might be lured in by a pleasant oldie, let’s say Crowded House’s Four Seasons In One Day (Neil Finn is a bit of a local god). But just when you think you can sit back and enjoy the music, you’ll be punished by Leona Lewis’ “Bleeding Love” (incessant airplay…), or any amount of the souldraining whingerock that we dubbed “tears in your ears”: these artists cover the toecurling spectrum that lies roughly between Creed & Nickelback’s post-grunge and the eye-liner abusing emopop of My Chemical Romance. Oh the horror!
So we switched the holiday soundtrack from radio to our iPods and so I had to change tactics: a foray into New Zealand nightlife for some musical exploration! Well first off, New Zealand nightlife can take some tracking down. We failed miserably in Auckland, finding just 1 pub with some -pretty dreadful- live acts. Were bitterly disappointed in Dunedin (an honest cross-section of the music we came across in different bars: Kylie’s Locomotion, Whitney’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody and Simon and bloody Garfunkel’s Mrs. Robinson! On a Saturday night!!). But at least we found a very decent (cover) band called Supermodel in Wellington. They played a mean version of The Strokes’ Last Nite.
Finally, slightly weary, I decided to conclude my quest in the obvious place: the record store. Each record store had a dicey section I know only too well from Ireland: national artists. Being on my new kiwi music quest I was happy to find this section, but then instantly on guard when seeing the likes of “Enchantment of the Maori” and “Best of Kiri Te Kanawa”. Ah yes, their Irish cousins “Mystical chants of the Celts” and “The best of traditional Irish jigs, part VII” instantly sprang to mind. Talking to the guy behind the counter proved infinitely more helpful, and thanks to Anonymous Record Store Guy in Christchurch, I can now present the following finds:
The Checks (from Auckland) – Tired from sleeping
The Mint Chicks (from Auckland) -Walking off a cliff again
The Phoenix Foundation (from Wellington) – Bright grey
Goldenhorse - listen to their latest single Jump into the sun on their myspace page.
