Issue 96 / February 2019

REVIEWS
“In Head we find
timeless, soulful and
emotive writing, with
an air of classicism
and few truly worthy
comparisons”
Michael Head And The Red Elastic Band (John Johnson / johnjohnson-photography.com)
Michael Head And
The Red Elastic Band
Harvest Sun @ Grand Central Hall – 15/12
What is it? How do we begin to explain it? Understand it?
Where does it come from, this devotion, this almost slavish,
rose-tinted obsession with MICHAEL HEAD? So many are
seemingly held under his spell, drawn to his light almost by
nature’s own demands, as though they have no choice. They’re
compelled to be here.
You can see it in the bars and pubs within a well-sung chorus
of the doors of Grand Central Hall on this December Saturday
night in Liverpool. It’s in the excited chat, the smiles and hugs of
friends, the handshakes of acquaintances, the nods and the letons
across the bar. Faces of the ages pulled together in a single,
reverential pursuit. There’s a nervous energy on their faces.
Caught in the moment. That staunch affection, founded in song
and driven by loyalty. It’s so much bigger than the word ‘cult’ –
often the default word of choice for commentators – could ever
evoke. But then, it’s more than just a gig. More than just a band.
It feels like something more. It’s in the feeling of community. Of
connection and shared experience. It’s unity. It’s in the air, on
the faces and in their hearts. Whichever way you describe it, its
unmistakable and undeniable. One thing’s certain: it’s nothing
new.
No matter when you started following the career of this most
treasured and widely respected artist, whether an early starter
Pale Fountains fan at 80s gigs in venues like Mr Pickwicks, the
heady days of Shack, or stumbling across 2017’s acclaimed and
long awaited Adiós Señor Pussycat, you’ve felt it. You’ve felt that
thing, been touched somehow by that magic. Maybe that’s what
it is: magic. Some untouchable ethereal connection between
singer, song and the listener, maybe?
And the songs. For over four decades, Michael Head has
brought us songs of truth. Don’t look for rage. There isn’t anger
in his writing. That’s not what you’re there for. Head sings of
truth. He writes tales rich in character and charm. They’re open.
Raw, even. They’re honest. In Head we find timeless, soulful and
emotive writing, with an air of classicism and few truly worthy
comparisons. In time, these tales and the people in them have
woven their way into the consciousness. We’ve grown to know
Natalie and Heidi, Jimmy Price, AJ Clark, Josephine and Rumer.
We know Daniella and Mr Appointment, Mrs Johnson and Sian,
The Queen Of All Saints.
We’ve learnt of those places. In Hocken’s Hey and Newby
Street, Lavender Way and Letitia Street. The Streets Of Kenny,
and Kilburn High Road. The connection is there for everyone, as it
is in Grand Central Hall, as the Red Elastic Band take to the stage.
Michael Head, forever humble and appreciative, but less driven
by nerves and more assured these days. He is healthy, happy and
wise.
He’s evolved over recent years. Back where he should be,
back to where he was long ago, at the beginning chapters of this
ever-twisting tale.
We note a small detail that tells the big story between then
and now: he’s wearing a watch. For too long, time will have
meant little to him. It will have served no purpose, was of no
consequence whatsoever. Now, he’s been welcomed back into a
world where time matters, and he’s clearly relieved to be making
it matter once more.
It’s an achievement worthy of huge respect, given the journey
he’s taken, but he’d be the first to admit that without the support
of everyone in the room, onstage and off, he maybe might never
have completed it. There’s that deep connection again.
And so he finds himself playing with a band that features
two brothers, a father and son, a brother and sister, and a host of
friends so close, so bonded through music that they have become
family. Maybe that’s the magic? Family. Maybe this is one big end
of year family celebration. It’s been said before. Five years since
Violette Records was created as a vehicle for this renaissance,
there was certainly much to celebrate. And celebrate they did.
For those among our number who remember the days in the
early 90s when Shack playing an eight-song set was considered
a bonus, the surprise and thrill was in the fact that the Red
Elastic Band and their triumphant leader bring no fewer than 21
songs in their bag, plus an encore of three more. An evening of
treasured moments, long to be cherished, etched into the hearts
and minds of the fortunate ones who secured tickets for this sold
out show.
Few will remember any live renditions in past gigs of Shack’s
Up Against It, or Faith from the first album, Zilch, an often unfairly
overlooked collection of shimmering, earthy songs not necessarily
aided by the heavy-handed polish of 1980s production. Here,
Michael Head And The Red Elastic Band (John Johnson / johnjohnson-photography.com)
those songs stand well, and take their rightful place alongside
later wonders such as the criminally overlooked, swoonsome
Somethin’ Like You, perhaps the most perfect paean to love
ever written. Or the sheer spirited elevation and unbridled joy
of Meant To Be, with the crowd taking on their now to-beexpected
role of mass singalong on the Tijuana flavoured trumpet
breaks. Similarly, Newby Street, voices and hands raised aloft
in a united essence of singularity. An almost tangible sense of
oneness descending over the crowd of smiling faces, the outside
world and its dark uncertainty, for all too brief a moment, to be
abandoned in the warmth of this blissful feeling.
A cover version in the shape of My Favourite Things, from
The Sound Of Music, is given extra bounce and pulse by the choir
stage right. There is the touchingly tender dedication of a doting
father to his daughter in the audience, the subject of The Prize.
He’s got The Prize, alright. A poignant moment. The dreamy,
floating waltz of Stranger, from the magnificent Waterpistol
album, is all visionary psychedelics under the vast Victorian circus
dome of Grand Central. A song uniquely suited to that place and
that time. “There’s just one way to get it in the city”. Is right.
The full family – a 15-piece band now including Nathaniel
Cummings of Peach Fuzz – come together for Comedy, one of
many which highlights Mick’s finely tuned sense of song, story
and melody. The dynamics in the build and drops, the layers of
guitars weaving in and around each other, and the chorus. That
chorus. Big hearted, open and joyous, the entire crowd joining in
throughout. And a confetti canon to seal the moment, the huge
sound of the band repeating the refrain as confetti drifts down on
us all like 50 million Rizlas.
So what is it, we asked. Simply put, it’s everything. Music, joy,
elation, beauty, family, friends… to everyone at every Mick Head
show, it’s everything.
Oscar Seaton
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