late review and a return to propriety

I have decided to reintroduce capital letters into my nonprofessional writing world. We’ll see how it goes. And now on to my belated concert review…

Saw Echo and the Bunnymen and the Psychedelic Furs at the Riviera on Monday night. Liquid nostalgia – just like being in 1986 again, only without the miserable puberty, and with a legal ID.

Echo played an inordinately long set – three songs before the end, the bass player actually put down his instrument and walked offstage. Said Ian: “Hey! where are you going? Come back! We’re not done!” or whatever it is he really said – he’s unintelligible as ever. Marcy says one time she saw an interview with him where they actually put subtitles at the bottom of the TV screen. Hilarious. They did a really horrible cover of Roadhouse Blues. Really. Horrible. Then again, they also did lovely versions of Lips Like Sugar, Killing Time, Bring on the Dancing Horses, etc., etc., so I suppose it all comes out in the wash.

Anyway. We all know I was really there to see Richard Butler et al, so while Ian and the Bunnyboys were fun, the real treat was seeing Richard being so unabashedly, unapologetically, flamboyantly, ridiculously 80s. The man’s more 80s than Loverboy. He is cooler than cool. Comment of the night (courtesy of Coz, damn him for stealing my thunder again), and one of the best ever on the topic:

Coz: It’s beginning to dawn on me that Richard Butler is just a perfect cross between Iggy Pop and Bryan Ferry.

Which, of course, is why I love him so.

On the way over, in the car, listening to All of This and Nothing on the stereo, I said that if they played Heaven I would probably just burst into tears. When I was in my teens, whenever I got on an airplane I would cue it up on my walkman so that the guitar and the plane took flight at the same time. Made me feel like I could fly too. And they closed with it, bless their hearts. I was right.