?January
1983
Glasgow
Somewhere
I
really struggled to place this one, both in time and location, I have to
say. I know the gig was during The
Beat’s final UK tour, so that dates it to late 1982/early 1983. I have plumped for January ‘83, but in
reality the concert could have easily taken place a couple of months either
side.
As
for where, well it was certainly Glasgow, but not in any of the usual concert
venues: Barrowlands, The Pavilion or The Apollo. I also don’t think it took place at one of
those clubby-type places on Sauchiehall Street, such as Tiffany’s, Night Moves or
The Venue. Which just sort of leaves Strathclyde
University Students’ Union. But
basically, I just cannae mind.
And
I find this total recall failure all the more puzzling as at the time I really,
really liked The Beat. Their first few
singles released on the Two-Tone tide just sort of washed over me, me really
just sitting up to take notice with the release of Too Nice To Talk To in
1980. The lyric to this one, I remember
thinking at the time, could easily have provided the narrative to my socially
inept teenage years.
“Emotions
so guarded, my heart is retarded.
You’re
too nice to talk to”
I
was loaned their debut album I Just Can’t Stop It by a now departed colleague
(RIP John), and fell in love on first listen.
Everett Morton’s tom toms heralded in a dozen perfectly formed compositions
fusing both ska and punk, topped off by Bob Sergeant’s crystal clear
production. The thing was barely off my newly
purchased Rega Planar II during 1981.
The
band’s follow-up Wha’ppen? was a real disappointment though, with only a couple
of songs (Doors of Your Heart and Get a Job) any good, but 1982 brought the Special
Beat Service album, wherein could be found the band’s masterpiece: I Confess.
Commencing
with a tinkling piano intro, the track swiftly ripens into a jazz-tinged treat showcasing a quite impeccable trumpet solo, and another set of incisively
perceptive lyrics which again I found uncomfortably apt to myself. Dave Wakeling’s vocal phrasing was flawless,
although the spectacle of the singer sporting eye-liner on the associated video
was a jarring one indeed.
Nothing
else on the album quite matched this nugget although the poignant End of The
Party came close. Other highlights were
Jeanette (a text-book exercise in rhyming), Ackee 123, March of The Swivelheads
and Save It For Later. I listened to
all of these tracks recently, and was pleasantly surprised by how fresh they
all sounded.
I
am guessing most if not all of the songs I have mentioned so far were played at
the gig, along with the likes of Mirror in the Bathroom, Big Shot and Ranking
Full Stop but I am, as I say, just guessing. The
only one I can recall with any surety is the final encore: a exuberant
rendition of Jackpot, whose Caribbean sway had me cavorting around my slightly more reserved
friends like a tube. But I was happy as
the proverbial piggy in the ordure.
This
tour was the last time the Wakeling/Roger/Steele/Cox line-up played live together,
as the band split soon after - although I recall the individual band members being
hastily herded back together to mime (with Wakeling in a dinner jacket) to Can’t
Get Used To Losing You on TOTP.
I
have never felt any desire to toddle along to see any of the cobbled together revivified versions of The Beat which regularly seem to do the rounds, but even so, any
Beat tune finding its way to the top of the shuffle pile on my MP3 player will inevitably set me dancing around the kitchen, much to my kids’ embarrassment.
“It’s
not my fault” I tell them. “I just can’t
stop it.”
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