Review: The Undertones, O2 Academy

First of all where the hell did the last four decades go? How on earth have forty years gone by since punk gobbed its way on to the national airwaves and caused equal amounts of pleasure and disgust? The big bands of the time stirred up a whole bunch of feelings in us teenage fans – difficult to feel kinship with the Clash, their intensity deserved admiration and they certainly provided inspiration; the Damned were clearly bloody lunatics and the Stranglers were, to be blunt, menacing and dangerous. The Pistols? Up there in the stratosphere – alien invaders come to destroy music and cultural life as we knew it then. But The Undertones were a band to take to your heart right from that first appearance on TOTP. Not only did they look like most of the kids in your school, but their songs really connected with ordinary teenage life in the seventies in a way that the bands above never quite achieved. And they did it with a cracking collection of timeless tunes backed up with incendiary live shows. Have they still got it forty years later? Well, before finding out there was the psychedelic punk blues of the support band to whet our appetites.

The Membranes were last in town supporting in the mighty Therapy? at the Thekla and once again they nearly stole the show. The band opened with Dark Matter from their most recent LP Dark Matter / Dark Energy and front man / bass man / singer man John Robb wasted no time encouraging the crowd forward as the band mesmerised with their exceedingly tight but darkly grooving post punk assault. Robb is a compelling frontman, eyeballing the audience like a mongoose sizing up a room full of cobra, and I’ve yet to see a crowd resist his charm – by their final number the floor was packed and singing along. That said he’s a funny bugger with plenty of between tunes chatter and self-deprecating humour. Due to the short set the crowd were only permitted to take advantage of the on stage “Space expertise” with one question, prompting an engaging debate about whether Pluto is a fully fledged planet or a dwarf planet. You don’t get that level of astronomical debate with Green Day eh? A succinct thirty minute set included the curiously danceable Do the Supernova, an extended Into the Graveyard – dark & menacing; and a promising tune so new it’s nameless. Chatting after the set Robb revealed the band have twelve songs ready to go and will be laying down the tracks in the New Year. Given their live form and the quality of Dark Matter / Dark Energy it’s gonna be a must-buy. He also revealed that a by-product of their appearance at Hawkeaster (the boutique Hawkwind festival) is they now have a following of “Silver haired wizards”. Again, not something Green Day can boast.

The Undertones arrived onstage without fanfare but to the type of roar that normally signals a last minute cup final winning extra time goal when you’ve been undeservedly down to ten men for most of the match. Opening with one of your strongest cuts (Jimmy Jimmy in this case) can be a risky strategy for most bands but for this lot it wasn’t a problem as they have a sack full of strong tunes and proceeded to deliver the bloody lot. Michael Bradley (bass) commented how pleased the band were to see a packed-solid house, observing that last time they played they were in a considerably smaller room (The Thekla actually) and apologised that they’d “…only made sandwiches for fifty…but we’ll order in chips” setting the tone for an exceedingly good natured firecracker of a show.

As a live proposition the band are arguably on the best form of their career, helped by a pristine sound that pushed the guitars to the fore. The set crackled with energy and the band played with passion and joy. Paul McLoone has totally claimed his place behind the mic, he nailed every tune and spent the whole gig enjoying the music as much as the crowd; his somewhat louche shoulder shimmies & soft shoe shuffles gradually mutating in to pogoing and high kicking as the songs sped by, ending the main set wind-milling exuberantly, shirt open to the navel and sweating like a fat man whose just inherited a pie factory. Damian O’Neill played superb lead throughout the night and really took flight on a cover of the Count Five’s Psychotic Reaction, his exemplary lead work built off the foundation of John O’Neill’s buzz-saw rhythm guitar totally locked in with Billy Doherty’s drums.

As for the songs well where do you start? Hypnotised was a delight with its shimmering guitar refrain; Male Model (dedicated to John Robb) was a snotty crowd led surge of adrenalin; Love Parade and Wednesday Week delightfully changing the pace of the set; the all-conquering Teenage Kicks still sounding as fresh and as empowering as the legendary double play on Peel; and Here Comes the Summer filling the room with mile wide grins. You Got My Number was simultaneously menacing and desperate; True Confessions delicate yet muscular whilst Runaround and Listening In were joyful bursts of energy. Let alone the songs, the next best thing about any Undertones show is the bond the band has maintained with its fans over the decades, the affectionate banter back and forth from stage to crowd emphasising that bond. Every song was an excuse for a mass singalong, the vibe in the crowd was unadulterated enjoyment and it simply felt ace to be part of the night. Bradley, O’Neil (D) and McLoone were full of chat between tunes, talking over each other and yakking with the front row, filling the room with engaging blarney and banter. The band constantly acknowledged old friends in the crowd so Julie Ocean went out to not one but two local Julies; and…well actually, listing all the dedications would fill the review, suffice it to say that over half the set must have been dedicated to someone in the crowd. The main set concluded with a crushing Get Over You its swaggering power matched by the crowd as they pogoed and sang themselves hoarse.

The encore finally delivered My Perfect Cousin arguably their greatest lyric, packed with delicious rhyming couplets whose potency has simply been improved rather than diminished by their familiarity. Top Twenty was a riot and segued brilliantly in to Solid Gold Easy Action, maintaining the Bolan swagger but with extra crunch. Of course the band had nothing left by now– yeah? Er, no Billy’s Third & Girls Don’t Like It were exuberant and proof again that the band has more earworms than a yard of Now That’s What I call Music CDs. The show was over all too soon, the band apologised for the nonappearance of the chips and a couple of thousand people disappeared in to the night sated, sweaty and in search of a chippy. Their fellow countrymen Stiff Little Fingers have made their Bristol date an annual event, let’s start a petition and get the Undertones to commit to an annual appearance too.

Pix by Donna Coombs