Wandering up Sauchiehall Street last night, it seemed that the exceptionally dark night colluded with the dreich and damp. The LED street lighting did little to quell the foreboding. I just thought about a similar trek in Madrid and how it never feels like. "Go and live there then you twonk" (other expressions are available but this is a family show), I hear flashing across your mind. You know, I think I just might but that's a consideration for another day.
A friend commented on the Martin Rev show last night reckoning Rev was "a bit of a chancer". I didn’t take that as a negative because while I understood exactly what he meant, I thought the “show” worked. It’s about being able to convince those that are watching, listening is secondary. Glasgow loves Rev and the city always loved Suicide. They were accepted there very early on.
Things ran a little late and by the time he swaggered on, we’d been assaulted by various degrees of noise via the opening “bands” and Twitch’s disc jockeying. It was nice to hear Wall Of Voodoo again.
Marty’s performance is always entertaining. The volume that he uses to punctuate the approximations of the material is sometimes verges on painful but that’s part of the experience. I don’t wear earplugs but I respect the right of others to do so. However, in this environment it’s shutting out part of the fun. If you go to see nobel prize winner Bobby D these days, you don’t get by numbers retreads of his songs. The Rev/Suicide “songbook” gets the same treatment.
Rinky dink REV pix by my crappy phone
A disco-fied edge informed much of the material played up to where I had to leave to catch the (Love) Train. Another loop of The Trammps “Disco Inferno” threatened to engulf the fateful in a perpetual tailspin to Hades. Martin Rev will turn 69 in a little over a week. He’s still out there.
Thank fuck that he is.