Ahh, live music…

I’ve decided I don’t see enough of it. As a musician by trade, I’m obviously at my fair share of gigs – I’m stalling the inevitable packing of the car right now, in fact – but it’s not the same.

So, as I headed over to Portsmouth in a car full of friends a few weeks ago, I found myself wondering what it is that I’m looking forward to seeing: what makes a good performance? Is it the perfect replication of the studio recording, the personalisation and extemporisation of familiar melodies, the euphoria of the crowd, or a combination of all three?

My initial reaction to this question would be to discount the crowd completely as a determinant factor in my enjoyment of a gig.

Yes, that’s right, I’m about to get something off my chest, and for once it’s not ‘yo mamma’.

For reasons beyond my control, I am six feet and eight inches tall. Yes, wow, isn’t that something. What’s that you say? How’s the weather up here? Go and throw yourself down a well, you turd – that’s how. So when I buy tickets for live events, I am always careful to check the ticket for the legal disclaimer “Doors open at 7.30pm. Patrons are kindly requested to line up in height order at the door, so that audience members can be led calmly in and arranged in front of the stage like a bloody school photo. Patrons are also reminded that standing in front of someone who is shorter than you at a gig is worse than being a paedophile“.

Now, let it never be said that I am an unreasonable man. In fact, if anyone did say that I’d set them on fire. If you happen to be shorter than 6’8″, and you’re standing behind me at a gig, the way to deal with the situation is to tap me on the back of the knee and say “excuse me, sorry to disturb what is clearly a very expressive interpretive dance, but I was wondering if I could stand in front of you, the better to see the stage.” If you happen to be a very attractive young lady, you could even ask to sit on my shoulders – to which the answer would be yes, provided you were prepared to face the back.

One should NOT just stand there tutting and coughing like the sort of repugnantly pompous, socially retarded civility-vacuums that we specialise in producing in this country (and possibly in France). If you happen to be concerned about having your view blocked, and you consider yourself to be a mannerless tiddler, then GET TO THE GIG EARLIER THAN ME. Don’t just toddle in two hours late and expect the crowd to part like the Red Sea, and don’t EVER catch yourself using phrases like “show some consideration” and “spoiling it for the rest of us”.

Ask, and it shall be given unto you. Otherwise (and I mean this in all senses of the phrase) grow up.

Manners cost nothing; as opposed to, say, major reconstructive surgery of the face and genitals which, your mother tells me, does not.

I hope you don’t think I’m being rude. Yes, it is annoying to have your view blocked at a gig, and it’s right and logical that you should stand in front of people like me that are taller than you. Just don’t act like I’m tall deliberately to spite you – it may well be that you’re so tiny, I didn’t realise you were there.

Apologies for the rant. It’s not even that relevant, as there was no trace of heightism to be found in fair Portsmouth a few Tuesdays hence.

Ah, yes. Back to the matter in hand. Elbow.

Elbow have been operating as a band for about eighteen years. In many respects, I’ve come to them rather late, having only developed an appreciation for them with their last couple of albums. Their first album, Asleep In The Back, was released in 2001, when I was busy blagging my way through the final year of university.

If I could go back in time and ask my 2001 self about Elbow, the conversation would probably go something like this:

“Hey, how’s it going – I’m from the future, and I’ve come to ask you your opinion on something!”

“You’re me – only from the future?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve come to ask me my opinion on something?”

“Oh, for f- yes. Yes I have.”

“Surely if I’m you, you already know my opinion, don’t you?”

“Yes, smarty-pants, I’m using this as a literary device. For my blog.”

“Your blog? What are you, gay? I’ve always considered blogging to be the last refuge of the terminally irrelevant.”

“Yes, yes I know that. Look, a lot’s changed…”

“Like what? Are there flying cars in 2008″

“Stop it. I want to ask you your opinion on the band Elbow.”

“But you already know-”

“SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, forget it. You know – the band, Elbow?”

“Yeah. They’re ok – I prefer Radiohead. I think Elbow’s music only really appeals to a certain kind of person.”

“Right. Who?”

“Bedwetters.”

“I see. Well, thanks a lot.”

“Sure. Any words of advice from the future?”

“In 2006 you’ll be arrested for sexually assaulting Ainsley Harriot…”

“Wha-”

“Just kidding.”

I suppose I’m trying to say that in my initial encounters with Elbow’s music, I found it to be pretty, but a little too rambling to hold my flitting attention for long.

In 2005, Elbow released Leaders Of The Free World. Whilst sitting in front of Jools “I Have No Idea What I’m Doing” Holland, Elbow came on and played the eponymous track from their third album. The sound was just as full, but now it was structurally tighter and more aggressive. When I got the album, I was even more impressed. From track to track, the ideas and textures were varied enough to keep me interested, but similar enough to hang together as a cohesive soundworld (yes, I just said ‘cohesive soundworld’, no, I am not a wanker, yes, soundworld is a word). And not a wet bed in sight. The latest album, The Seldom Seen Kid, is also great – although, despite being sonically more impressive, I’d say Leaders Of The Free World is stronger overall because it’s less rambling.

The live show was great. The demographic of the crowd seemed to be part über-cool part dungeons-and-dragons-enthusiast, and the celebration of the Glorious Misfit seemed to echo the band’s stage presence.

As usual, this review has sprawled out of control, so I’ll summarise how I felt about the gig briefly because I’m beginning to bore myself.

Elbow’s performance was great. The band seemed completely sold on the idea of working together to create a complete texture, rather than just waving their cocks around (figuratively). Guy Garvey’s voice is effortlessly perfect, and his presence on stage is engaging yet unassuming.

Like their records, they remind me of a warmer and more gregarious Radiohead. Not to say that Elbow are better, only that I feel that Radiohead’s style keeps the listener somewhat more at arm’s length.

Oh dear, I’m boring myself again. Right – a more succinct summary needed.

Listening to Radiohead = Looking at an intricate piece of quartz whilst someone reads aloud from No Logo, burns a dollar bill under your nose and waves a picture of a dead heron in front of you.

Listening to Elbow = drinking a nice hot chocolate with your ears.

There.

After all that, a concise opinion.