Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s third album, ‘Howl’ emerged from a difficult period for the band. They’d been dropped by Virgin, and drummer Nick Jago departed the band under somewhat challenging circumstances. Tonight, touring to commemorate the album’s twentieth anniversary, found them experiencing challenging circumstances of a different kind.
It should have been fairly obvious that the set would be heavily geared towards the album, which favours acoustic tracks, and a stripped back sound that leans more towards country, blues, and Americana. Clearly a lot of the punters missed that memo, and were here for altogether more rambunctious racket.
Arguably, some albums are more suited to listening to at home and ruminating on in a peaceful state, than they are to being performed live to a room of 2,000 people. Then again, many acts – even rock bands – play acoustic sets and you can hear a pin drop. Not so tonight: you’d have struggled to have heard the PA’s speaker stack collapsing over the chat. Something was clearly off with the crowd – too many casuals out for a pre-Christmas social event with no real interest in the band, and the fact that the first half of the two-hour set consisted of cuts from the introspective, low-key ‘Howl’ meant they didn’t engage and couldn’t be drowned out.
Half an hour in, Robert Levon Been was clearly struggling: he fluffed a solo acoustic ‘Mercy’, seemingly struggling to concentrate, and asked for the crowd to keep the chat down. Clearly flustered, he stumbled his words, but seemed to recover with a powerful and passionate rendition of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Chelsea Hotel #2’, which sadly also fell on deaf ears. He next straight out told them babbling masses to shut the fuck up, but did they? One guy started hollering at him to smile. He responded that he was actually rather upset. He had reason to be, too. At this point, I really felt for him, and the band as a whole. And just as a band often feeds on the positive energy of an enthusiastic crowd, BRMC seemed to wilt in the face of the energy drain of a lousy one. Getting through the set, in full, was a remarkable measure of professionalism: many artists would have stropped and cut the shoe short. Instead, those who were listening didn’t lose out, at least in terms of songs played.
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This wasn’t just a tough crowd: this was objectively a shit audience who showed no respect. It shouldn’t be a big ask for a band who’ve been going nearly thirty years and have near enough sold out the venue, to be heard, and to hear themselves on stage. They shouldn’t need to pander to calls for something different when the tour is explicitly about a given album.
They do, of course, bring the bangers toward the end of the set, although I’m not entirely sure if they were deserved. Leeds – do better. BRMC – on behalf of Yorkshire, I would like to apologise.
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