A very positive review from Nick Kent, a big hitting journalist writing for the New Musical Express. And no surprises, The Jam played a bliner on the night as well!
The gig itself can be located here.
THE JAM WERE scarcely halfway through their set at half past six when the geezer at the door of the Roundhouse told the 300- plus still stranded outside that there were only a hundred tickets left to be sold . Surprising, I thought , as last week John Cale hadn't even filled the place.
The Stranglers, it gradually became apparent throughout the evening, are very much the dark horses of the new wave hoopla.
Not only have they produced arguably the best album to appear from out of this whole circus, but their pulling power is such that it can outstrip even an ex-Velvet Underground acolyte on their first large-scale bill-topping London gig. (Either that or the previous Sunday the New Wave fans were too intent on witnessing the second stretch of Lew Grade's Jesus Of Nazareth on Easter TV).
Anyway, the Roundhouse was packed to the cracks with a rather unsettling ratio of benign old hippie types ( You looking for bother? - Ed.) and the doyens of all:purpose " now"-ness - which meant mainly spotty looking types in a motley uniform salvaged from equal quotients of mod and rocker drag circa the old Brighton beach barney era. Not that you could tell the difference looking down from upstairs.
Back to The Jam, though .They're great. Simple as that. Any 18-year-old kid who takes pride in playing an old bright red 6-string Rickenbacker (a pox on all yer Telecasters and Les Pauls, now this is a guitar) and plays it well , even ringing out various feedback squeals at the end of every number, is more than alright in my code of rock lore.
In fact , The Jam impress me enough for me to envisage them taking over where The Feelgoods left off (not that The Jam ape The 'Goods, by the way), substituting youthful exuberance for some of that band's more idiosyncratically successful stunts.
The Jam, anyway, are superbly tight at virtually all times, each member juxtaposing his instrumental drive against the others for maximum effect, everything strictly in tune , harmonies always right on pitch. "In The City", their single, is still the best number in their repertoire; sometimes in their usurping of old numbers, specifically " Ride Your Pony" and "Sweet Soul Music", they forfeit too much of the song's real power in the name of speed . But I'd rather see The Jam any day than any number of attitude fetishists, if only because they've bothered to put the music first - and as such they will survive long after the "I'm So Bored With ... " merch ants have scurried back to their parents houses in Wanstead.
Cherry Vanilla is really a bit of a joke - at least to yours truly, who has the dubious distinction of recalling her as publicist for Mainman, when she was a butt for all manner of evil jokes courtesy of Iggy Pop and James Williamson.
On stage at the Roundhouse, Ms Vanilla did try very hard, aided by a surprisingly adept band whose musical savvy was· only parallelled by the heinous nature of their posing. The guitarist looked like he was giving birth every time he amped out a solo, gritting his teeth like he was in mortal combat with a bull-worker, while the pianist looked simply like a primping queen throughout. Vanilla's repertoire is all Stones- riffs and upfront horny posing, but her style is ultimately almost cautious, apologetic… and so hardworking that one almost wanted her to be granted an encore (she was), even at the cost of having to sit through more arch posing and torso bracing.
Finally The Stranglers came , saw and conquered . The last time I'd seen them was exactly the same spot well over a year ago, when they'd put virtually everyone's backs up with a dire set of surrogate Doors/Velvets soundalike songs with uniformly crummy lyrics.
This time they kicked off with the hypnotic "Sometimes", my favourite single track from the entire recorded works of the new wave (and if you think that 's jive then just consider that I'd prefer to hear an inspired Doors rip-off than an uninspired Ramones rip-off any day, OK?). The sound was thick and Gothic heavy , losing some of its doomy momentum due to the way is seemed weighted down at times.
Much of their repertoire was as impressive as it was unfamiliar - a new song called “I Feel Like A Wog" being most decidedly so . - More semi-established works like "Peaches" and "Ugly" were performed with a slide show lacking any real extradimensional power, while "Down In The Sewer" sounded even better than on record.
The only possible quibbles would be the occasional forced "heaviness" of their rhetoric (minimal) and bass player Jean Jacques Burnel's leg movements (forgettable). Otherwise, they are musically probably the best new wavers around right now. One can only hope for competition. Fast.
Nick Kent
