Blunstone and Argent in Chicago

The other night I was one of a hundred or so stragglers at the Abbey Pub in Chicago. We had just witnessed a near two-hour performance from Colin Blunstone and Rod Argent of the Zombies. It was, as they pointed out, the first time they had performed Zombies material together in Chicago since 1965. Having been too young to see them then, being a newborn and all, I'm glad they managed to come around again, and do so when I was old enough to appreciate them.

While I was speaking to a few friends, already comparing what we perceived to be the highlights, a long queue was forming in front of the merch table, as Blunstone and Argent were going to be signing autographs. My friend Chris Holtane (for Chicago music trivia buffs, the former lead guitarist for garage bands Hoodoo Hoedown and The Goldstars), who had seen The Creation only days before made a simple and wise observation: "I now know that anything is possible."
Meaning, you never know when idols from the past will get back together. This doesn't mean we should be hotly anticipating a Jam reunion, for example. It really doesn't mean much more than we are now living in an era where some of the great artists of the ‘60s and ‘70s are still around, and many are reveling in the opportunity to entertain both old fans and more recent converts.

The Blunstone-Argent show was a case in point. A marketer would not be happy with the diverse demographic in attendance. There were a few folks who looked like they were about 25 when they attended that 1965 Zombies show. Then there were some slightly younger Baby Boomers whose haircuts gave away their allegiance to Argent. From there the crowd was an interesting mix of Gen X and Gen Y, with a smattering of youngsters who probably heard the Zombies on college radio a few months ago.

The set was marvelous. They played most of the Zombies material near the start and near the end. In between, they mixed in some Colin solo numbers (highlighted by a poignant version of Tim Hardin's "Misty Rose" and the uber-ballad "I Don't Believe in Miracles"), four Argent tunes (wow, does "God Gave Rock and Roll to You" sound like Queen trying to do a Mott The Hoople tune, or what?), a number Blunstone sang with the Alan Parsons Project and two mellow new tunes by Blunstone and Argent that were nice – not quite the Air Supply-like disasters some critics have claimed them to be.
Blunstone sounded amazing. Early in the show, he didn't have quite the power on his high notes, which was obvious on "Rose for Emily", though the song still retained its luster and poignancy. In mid-range, however, he still is one of the best white R & B singers ever. (Though his dancing, such as it is, shows that all of his soul went to the voice, not to his feet or butt). And he got better as the night went on. It was nearly as much of a treat to see and hear Rod Argent do his thing – his keyboard style is so distinctive. When he played the organ solo on "Time of the Season", I just had to shake my head – I really couldn't believe what I was seeing or hearing.

Blunstone and Argent were backed by a killer band. Jim Rodsford, who, after every song, would point approvingly at Colin and Rod, manned the bass and provided the critical third harmony voice. Rodsford was in Argent and is still the bass player of The Kinks, which currently is like being the proverbial tree that falls in the forest with no one around. All three of these guys shared stories to an audience that was...
...adoring? Worshipful? The phrase ‘you can feel the love in the room' is so cheesy, but I'm not sure I have ever been in the midst of a crowd that so wanted to let the performers know how much they were missed for all of these years. Sure, there were some numbskulls in the back who had to chatter during the quiet numbers (an alarming trend here in Chicago – I'd rather get back to the trend of moshing at shows no matter the music being played, I think), but most of the crowd reacted in three ways: extremely hearty applause, ecstatic applause, and oh-my-god-that-was-orgasmic-applause. After some Odeyssey And Oracle numbers, the applause would last a good minute or so before Colin and Rod could continue. And though the 550 capacity Abbey (which was pretty full) might not be the largest place they've played, the beaming and appreciation the whole band showed was awesome – they were loved and loved right back.

This show culminated a September that was, for me, Rock History Month. While I was unable to see either of the two fiery performances by The Creation, in the span of six days, I saw three bands associated with the original punk era, though none are really punk: The Mekons, Wire and Pere Ubu. The Mekons are basically based here in Chicago, and they played a series of gigs to celebrate their 25th Anniversary. They did three shows in three different clubs, each focusing on a different era of their music. They also added a special performance – a lunchtime show at the Chicago Cultural Center. It was essentially an acoustic show, and most of the material came from more recent records. Still, they pulled some songs from back in the ‘80s. The songs were a mix of folk, country and wee bit of blues. Sally Timms sounded as angelic as ever and Jon Langford proved, once again, no matter how many bands he fronts, his genial but limited voice always sounds best on Mekons material.

The next night, I saw Wire for the first time in my life. Now on Reunion 2.0, the band was selling their second EP of new material at the show. True to advance billing, with the exception of two songs, their one hour performance was comprised entirely of new songs. With almost no stage patter, and Bruce Gilbert, looking more like Bruce Cockburn's older brother, playing with his back to the audience, Wire impressed, relying on the pure ferocity of their musical attack. Colin Newman not only mewled and growled the words, he also contributed to the cacophony, bashing away on the guitar.

However, the star of the band is clearly Robert (Gotobed) Gray. This stringbean taps out the rhythms with metronomic precision, offering only the slightest embellishments. His willingness to subvert his skills to the minimalist compositions is critical, as everything centers around his playing. The new material from the first Read And Burn EP sounded even better live. The songwriting approach is quite similar to the band's Pink Flag days. It's the noisy execution that's different. Taking advantage of the propulsive playing, the hooks weren't in melodies or choruses, but repeated phrases or slight variations on the tune of each song. This show proved that Wire is as vital as they have ever been.

The same could be said about Pere Ubu's performance six days later. Whereas Blunstone and Argent were about revisiting history and Wire is about finding new uses for past ideas, Pere Ubu has it both ways. They visited most eras of their career in a spectacular set. Really, the only period the band ignored was their brief foray into more conventional songwriting, which was highlighted by their classic Cloudland album. This was not a loss. Though the current edition of the band retains some of the melodic savvy from that era, the newest Ubu tuneage actually fits better with songs from albums like Dub Housing, as the new songs share a similar disjointed and dissonant approach. No matter when the song was originally recorded, the band tore into the material. Again, drums were the key, as Steve Mehlman played some of the most intricate parts I've heard in a while.

Still, most of the attention had to be focused on the enduring David Thomas. In dress shirt, suspenders and fedora, the hefty vocalist is still a commanding stage presence with an odd and enduring wit. Early on in the performance, he donned an orange apron, which had gates attached to it. The outfit was designed so that when he walked near a speaker, the gates would pick up the noise coming out of the speaker, and create an unholy squealing feedback. Too bad (or too good) that it only worked a couple of times.

The band was particularly impressive during the encore. They played an incredible rendition of "Dark", the climactic song on their current St. Arkansas album – it's kind of the "Road Runner" for the loser traveling salesmen set. Thomas did the first verse a capella, and the band then gently eased into backing him, the song becoming hypnotic as Thomas extolled how the AM radio was going to set us all free. Ubu then delighted long time fans by ending with a blistering take on their garage-rock howler "Non-Alignment Pact".

Regardless of the approach, all of these artists showed that trends are like smoke, which will fade away. But great songs and great ideas, when performed with commitment, will always sound fresh. Yep, September 2002 was a pretty reaffirming month for music for me.

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