Review:
'ONLY ONES, THE/ COOPER CLARKE, JOHN/ PENETRATION'
'Wolverhampton, Wulfrun Hall, 26th August 2007'
- Genre: 'Rock'
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Our Rating:
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English Bank Holiday weekend and while the hordes are converging on Reading and Leeds, W&H have made for a mini-festival of a different stripe: 'Sunday Best' - a half-dozen bands and a kind of cut-price 'Holidays In The Sun' featuring some old favourites and (most importantly) the immortal Only Ones, whose re-union gigs have been turning discerning heads all over the place.
Wolverhampton's Wulfrun Hall is a regular large-ish hall stop-off on the circuit and - for this writer - always creates a certain frisson because it was the venue Morrissey chose to re-launch his live career after the Smiths. The fact his band for the occasion were basically The Smiths minus Johnny Marr, of course, has largely been glossed over thanks to the enormity of the occasion, but I digress.
The building doesn't really live up to the myth, all things considered. It's a functional and not hugely-attractive brick construction which forms part of the larger Wolves Civic Hall, though it boasts an ineffably loud sound system and plenty of space inside. With doors having opened at an unfeasible 5.00PM, W&H worked out an on-the-spot deal with a Brummie-based cabbie to get us to Wolverhampton from our Birmingham hotel room in what appeared to be the speed of light thanks to our electronic friend, the GPS. Despite this and a sizeable scampi dinner, we conspired to miss the first brace of bands (sorry EMERGENCY and THE GETAWAY if you were any good) and the mighty GOLD BLADE, who were winding down as we arrived. Oh well.
Nevertheless, it turned out there were thrills aplenty still in store. Having made their debut at the legendary Roxy in the mists of early 1977, County Durham's finest PENETRATION came with legend intact and - hearteningly - only enhanced their sizeable past reputation with a performance kids half their age would have sawn off important limbs for.
Always a seductive combination of feistiness and intelligence, Pauline Murray ought to have gone on to cement a much larger footnote for herself, but with (I think) most of Penetration's classic five-piece incarnation again behind her, she certainly recaptured the spirit and class of yesteryear with a performance of spirit and heart.
Early highlights included an impressively taut and stormy take of Patti Smith's 'Free Money', followed impatiently by a sprightly 'Life's A Gamble' and a couple of new tunes which sounded far more relevant and vital than by rights they ought to. By this stage, Murray had got into her element, prowling the lip of the stage and leading the singalong during a vintage rendition of the inevitable 'Don't Dictate'.
Sensibly, her boys in black never tried to compete for attention, but concentrated on slamming out some irresistible ramalama on tunes like 'Danger Signs' and the kinetically powerful set-closer 'Come Into The Open': tunes whose edgy pedigrees have ensured they can thrive when introduced to a whole new generation. The fact their authors still play them with such fire and vigour is little short of revelatory, however. Good to have you back, Pauline, Robert and co.
Your reviewer's normally endless reserves of goodwill for seasoned punk poet JOHN COOPER CLARKE, meanwhile, were severely tested the last time our paths crossed three years ago in Morecambe. That night, the bard of Salford was opening for The Fall and was clearly running on empty, so it was a relief to be able to acknowledge something of a return to form this time around.
Immaculate in crumpled black suit, fire engine red shirt and perma-shades, Mr. Clarke was back to something like his ribald best, toting a clutch of new material such as 'Hire Car', 'Paging Dr. Schroeder' and 'Darren', though - as our hero told us, "I don't like the name Darren" so that may well change. His patter was engaging throughout, too, ranging from his love for "enervating beverage" Martini through to the fact the word 'Limerick' doesn't rhyme. "Listen, the closest you'll get is turmeric and you try getting that golden spice into a viable rhyme scheme" notes our hero knowingly. OK, well, we'll leave that to the professionals, then, John.
And so to the legendary ONLY ONES. Even a year ago, if W&H had been told they'd be privy to one of the least likely rock'n'roll re-unions of all time, I doubt very much we'd have believed it. I mean, the very idea of Peter Perrett, John Perry, Alan Mair and Mike Kellie back onstage after 25 years....arguably this writer's favourite band of all time playing THOSE songs again...... I had asked photographer Kate to pinch me repeatedly but yet here we were in downtown Wolverhampton and all of a sudden there they were crashing into 'From Here To Eternity'. OHMIGOOOOODDDD!!
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Of course, perspective is difficult when you're witnessing history unfold before your very eyes, but objective we must be and while your reviewer was salivating over the fact The Only Ones followed up directly with 'Miles From Nowhere' and 'Flaming Torch' (three of the greatest songs from 'Even Serpents Shine', one of the best albums ever) it was a tad disappointing to hear John Perry's majestic guitar disappear beneath the morass of noise during the opening salvo with the mix rather muddy and disjointed.
Thankfully, matters improved considerably after a shirt while, with Perrett and co. getting to grips with 'In Between' and 'It's The Truth', two of their most brittle and wonderful lovelorn ballads. By this stage, Perry's guitar had risen to its' rightly prominent position in the mix and Perrett's ultra-laconic drawl was cutting through with just the right amount of vitriol.
Although frail and hunched, Perrett still looked every inch the star throughout the show and his performance was never less than completely compelling. One of the things that surprised this writer was the importance of his rhythm guitar to The Only Ones' overall sound. Much more prominent than I'd expected, Perrett's Telecaster cut through with snarling clarity throughout, forming a strong bond with Kellie's muscular and inventive drumming in the same way Joe Strummer's Telecaster worked with Topper's playing in The Clash. This gave space for John Perry's elegant lead guitar and incredible soloing on songs like the caustic 'Why Don't You Kill Yourself?' and a positively sepulchral 'Big Sleep' while bassist Alan Mair was solid and dynamic throughout, adding crucial backing vocals where necessary and performing his anchor man role with true aplomb.
OK, there was the occasional glitch like the false start at the beginning of 'No Solution' (Perrett muttered his apologies that he couldn't hear Kellie's count owing to a sinus infection) but who's complaining when that's pitted against the full-on thrill of a viciously dispatched 'As My Wife Says', an amphetamined-up 'Programme' and (naturellement) 'Another Girl, Another Planet', where Perry's guitar solo simply defied my useless attempts at superlatives.
And - joy upon joy - there was even new material in the shape of moody newie 'Dreamt She Could Fly' which is already sounding as cautionary, idiosyncratic and brilliant as prime period Only Ones. When you hear this and also a moving version of the tremendous 'The Shame Of Being You' from Perrett's under-rated 'Woke Up Sticky' solo record then you can only hope these are the start of better days ahead for one of the UK's greatest ever outfits.
Time constraints dictated that the encore was limited to a particularly wicked, thunder-summoning version of 'Me & My Shadow' with the band enetering one by one and adding texture upon texture to Kelllie's supercharged Bo Diddley beat. Naturally, more have been terrific, but judging by the shit-eating grin on Alan's face as he thanked the receptive crowd and finally trooped off, I think it's fair to say The Only Ones enjoyed themselves. I can say with some certainty that this mood was reciprocated by a rapturous audience.
Of course, it would be a foolish man who'd make predictions for where such a notoriously volatile bunch such as The Only Ones might go from here. It's clear there is a new album to equal their immaculate track record still in them should they so desire, but for now let's just enjoy the fact they made it here at all. Bollocks to Reading: as British bank holiday weekends go, it would have been bloody hard to top this one.
(www.myspace.com/johnmperry)
(www.myspace.com/penetration78)
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author: Tim Peacock / Photos: Kate Fox
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The Only Ones
John Cooper Clarke
Penetration
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