following the previous two weeks of gigging excess, the final part of my american adventure was supposed to be a lot more relaxed.<\/p>\n
well that was the plan.<\/p>\n
once i had recovered from the shock of the twee, i decided to lie low and just soak up the rare privilege of the various hbo channels that my apartment was lucky to receive. this meant catching several movies from opening credit to closing credits without any interruptions, something that at home rarely happens.<\/p>\n
well, as i said that was the plan.<\/p>\n
unfortunately, the blackhawks decided to squash the plan and raise the level of chaos to a completely new level.<\/p>\n
this meant that on wednesday, the night the blackhawks played another of their finals in stanleys cup, one post work beer with work colleagues ended up being a rather more fulfilling experience.<\/p>\n
they won.<\/p>\n
the match as far as i can recall was somewhat exciting, and the final minutes involving a golden goal scenario resulting in a successful outcome for the blackhawks meaning the whole city erupted in a outpouring of mass ecstasy. needless to say my short walk back to the apartment was interrupted by an excess of car horns, partying hordes, and a lot of blackhawks logos.<\/p>\n
given that my window was 19 floors above the main thoroughfare of downtown chicago, michigan avenue, it was clear i wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep for quite a while, so i sat on the roadside near a jamming sax player and watched the street party ensue.<\/p>\n
musical highlight of the day : dropping some payment in the sax players bucket so that i could enjoy cannonball adderleys<\/strong> classic mercy mercy mercy <\/font>while the city partied. no point in me denying myself such pleasures amongst the sports based revelry.<\/p>\n thursday brought hangovers and joy in equal measure, but was effectively the run up to the one night i had actually planned prior to me getting on the outbound plane.<\/p>\n the psychedelic furs<\/strong> were playing the metro on friday june 11th.<\/p>\n now, i have a few of their albums, and can’t deny they hold a place in my heart when a certain mood hits, but the main draw for me was the support act, she wants revenge<\/strong>, the latest project involving hip hop loving dj adam, and genre jumping justin warfield.<\/p>\n once i spotted this pairing up in the listings, i couldn’t resist the urge, so emails were sent, twitter feeds were hammered, and a deal was set in stone.<\/p>\n flying solo i navigated the (in)famous chicago cta system, hit the red line, and found my way to the metro<\/u> with relative ease. after entering via a non-descript doorway, showing my id card, getting frisked (are we having fun yet ?), showing my id card again, getting tagged as being old enough for beer, i am allowed at last to enter the theatre.<\/p>\n and what a gorgeous venue it turns out to be.<\/p>\n the metro<\/u> despite its modern faceless name, is actually a lovely old fashioned theatre. the lighting is low, the bar manned by tattooed up rock chicks, and things are looking good.<\/p>\n i loiter without intent, buy a beer, and watch the sell out crowd, a mixture of original 80s nostalgic heavy couples and nu-era irony freaks, drift towards the stage area.<\/p>\n then, on the stroke of 8pm, as the waitresses try to navigate the crowd (in the uk gigs mean a desire for beer involves bar bound journeys, and a great deal of patience, in the usa, you wait, smile sweetly at the appropriate person, and moments later a beer is brought directly to you. genius.), she wants revenge<\/strong> hit the stage.<\/p>\n with an extra back up of drummer and guitarist to flesh out the live version of the band, she wants revenge<\/strong> make a mighty impressive noise live. their well honed brand of depeche mode<\/strong> styled anthem electro, midnight friendly guitar lines, and simple but effective suicide<\/strong> ripping bass lines, hits the guilty pleasure spot. <\/p>\n with adam ensconced behind a rack of synths, justin holds down centre stage using the microphone stand both as a bodily extension, and source of mime acting. after a few minutes i become aware that it’s a bowie<\/strong>-esque performance, and very stylised. several tracks from the 2 albums (one of which was never released uk-side), are laid on the line and sound absolutely fantastic. clearly the people on the mix at the metro<\/u> know the score, as i don’t think i have ever experienced such clarity and pain free noise excess. it’s quite special.<\/p>\n once the temperature is on the rise, adam then announces that they are going to play a few new tracks. normally such an statement would make me fear the worst, but given that she wants revenge<\/strong>, like sputnik<\/strong>, have a certain sound and style, it becomes quite apparent that the new material doesn’t deviate too far from the source. a maraca assisted breakdown in one of the new songs makes me anticipate an extended cowbell lcd soundsystem<\/strong> rhythmic onslaught, while my hopes are dashed, and there is no cowbell, the new tracks do make me dance a little dance and smile a lot. <\/p>\n with the new material out of the way and adam performing a solo instrumental interlude, the band head home with a set closing climax of some of the more crunchier crowd pleasing material. ending on a visceral version of tear you apart<\/font> involving more of their trademarked down tuned twanged up guitars and pumping bass lines meaning girls swoon, men swill more beer, and many fall under the bands sensual spell. <\/p>\n after a twilight hour of blood letting the crowd cannot help but react in full force. <\/p>\n summary : should a record label decide to step up and help the band release their third album, then please add my name to the list of release day customers.<\/p>\n following a quick re-org of the stage the psychedelic furs,<\/strong> all of whom without exception are dressed head to toe in cooler-than-thou-black, kick off the 80s party. classics from their back catalogue are thrown out in fine form. all the more so given that the current incarnation of the live band features the brothers butler, the sax player from the mirror moves<\/font> album (surely one of the ultimate 80s albums with its wide screen gated drums and over the top keith forsey production ?), and others from various stages of the bands illustrious career. richards vocals are guttural shaking deep and monochromatic as ever, and much to my surprise actually looks to be loving the euphoric reception. president gas<\/font> is of course a highlight and kicks off an almighty rush of homesickness as the last time the track was given an airing i was relaxing @ ireallylovemusic<\/u> hq. so powerful is the personal emotional overchange that i find it difficult to fully warm to the proceedings, but by the time the all too predictable set closer, the revised pretty in pink<\/font>, i am swept up in the moment and realise that i need to re-establish my love for this much forgotten band.<\/p>\n and there for many the night ended, going home recalling moments of musical wonder, unexpected highs and so much more.<\/p>\n instead, for yours truly the night took a very interesting detour. basically, due to a set of random circumstances that i laid down many years ago, i ended up catching up with justin warfield<\/strong>, going backstage, and found myself listening to various stories of the mans career to date in eye watering, manic pen scribbling detail.<\/p>\n but dear reader, that story is for another day.<\/p>\n starting out with the city of chicago putting on a ticker tape parade for the victorious blackhawks (est, 2 million people hit the streets during the procession), and ending up backstage chatting to justin warfield while the furs<\/strong> were post gig celebrating in the cubicle next to us, i will finish this chapter in saying that friday 11th of june was probably one of the most surreal and wonderful days i have yet to experience.<\/p>\n next up<\/u> : the return to reality<\/p>\n