Dexy and they know it
Dexys - Birmingham Symphony Hall, 12 September
To the uninitiated - that is, anyone whose knowledge starts and ends at Come On Eileen, maybe extending to their rib-tickling performance of Jackie Wilson Said on Top of the Pops in front of an image of burly darts star Jocky Wilson - this Dexys tour would have been a curious experience. What's up with the singer's diction, they might very well ask. What happened to the Midnight Runners bit of their name? And why does a diminutive guy in the dungarees and pencil moustache seem to inspire such rabid devotion in a hallfull of old men?
Being a mere thirtysomething, I wasn't there from the beginning. From reading up on the interviews and the period details though, and more importantly from listening to the records, I started to gain some idea of the impact that Kevin Rowland and his band must have had.
An 80s band carefully cultivating a particular image wasn't unusual, and even changing that image wholesale from year to year was hardly unique. When a band fixates on the purity of their soul vision, however, and surrounds itself with tales of punishing rehearsal regimes and stealing of master tapes after disputes with their label, well then we're into more unexplored territory. I've never quite fallen for the 80s-as-cultural-wasteland argument (sadly I am way too fond of that decade's cheesy pop records), but I do get the sense that Dexys felt like a band apart.
Even this reunion hasn't followed the standard template. They kind of did that back in 2003, when Rowland reconvened former members of various Dexys lineups for a Best Of compilation tie-in tour. The gig I saw at the Royal Festival Hall where they played many of the old classics, some of which had been retooled in the intervening years ("If some of these songs sound different", as Kevin put it, "it's 'cos we changed 'em"), looked to be a transcendental experience for many - not least the man centre stage.
Rowland's "wilderness years" and emotional frailties had been well-documented, many of them in his own lyrics. It was hugely touching to see him back performing after so long. But after that tour, and that Best Of which yielded only two new songs, there was nothing. Perhaps that was all that could be expected of 21st century Kev.
So you can hopefully see why some people's biggest news story of 2011 was the announcement of a brand new Dexys album after a 27-year gap. This tour showcases One Day I'm Going to Soar in its theatrical entirety. Never a big fan of conventional gigs (see 1981's Projected Passion Revue, a theatre tour featuring dance and comedy performances and absolutely no airing of their other huge hit Geno), this evening unfolded in the form of a musical tragicomedy.
Two songs in and Rowland is howling out his inner confusion in Lost. At the album's core is a five-song suite that chronicles a doomed relationship in condensed form, beginning with She Got A Wiggle's lascivious early stirrings of passion and culminating with the magnificent Incapable of Love, wherein Rowland and actress/co-vocalist Madeleine Hyland exchange bitter recriminations re his inability to conduct an adult relationship.
Several songs contain spoken-word sections (echoing 1985's uncommercial epic Don't Stand Me Down), with band members occasionally taking the role of Kevin's conscience, confidante, or an unspecified authority figure (Pete Williams excels in the main sidekick role throughout). The final track, It's Okay John Joe, seems like a distillation of Rowland's entire psyche. "I don't show much of myself in life," he confides to a silent friend/child/protege, "but in my music I tend to put it all in. It's like I've got a need to get it all out of me."
Whether this qualifies as strength or weakness (or both) is a moot point - it's the quality that his fans have found so compelling over the years, for better and for worse.
The rest of the show features a similar selection of old classics to the 2003 shows, including the bizarre music hall routine-as-framing-device with Williams as a policemen which didn't really need resurrecting. An extended, full-on Eileen and finale of This is What She's Like, though, most certainly did. Both these songs showcase the band - sometimes overshadowed by their frontman's peculiar pyrotechnics - in all their soul-fuelled glory.
(Still no Geno, though.)
It's doubtful that Dexys will win many converts as this stage of the game. But so what? They've just cemented their position as one of the most cherished bands this country has produced. Somewhere, hopefully, Kevin Rowland knows this too.
To the uninitiated - that is, anyone whose knowledge starts and ends at Come On Eileen, maybe extending to their rib-tickling performance of Jackie Wilson Said on Top of the Pops in front of an image of burly darts star Jocky Wilson - this Dexys tour would have been a curious experience. What's up with the singer's diction, they might very well ask. What happened to the Midnight Runners bit of their name? And why does a diminutive guy in the dungarees and pencil moustache seem to inspire such rabid devotion in a hallfull of old men?
Being a mere thirtysomething, I wasn't there from the beginning. From reading up on the interviews and the period details though, and more importantly from listening to the records, I started to gain some idea of the impact that Kevin Rowland and his band must have had.
 |
| Rowland (left) and chief sidekick Pete Williams share a chuckle |
Even this reunion hasn't followed the standard template. They kind of did that back in 2003, when Rowland reconvened former members of various Dexys lineups for a Best Of compilation tie-in tour. The gig I saw at the Royal Festival Hall where they played many of the old classics, some of which had been retooled in the intervening years ("If some of these songs sound different", as Kevin put it, "it's 'cos we changed 'em"), looked to be a transcendental experience for many - not least the man centre stage.
Rowland's "wilderness years" and emotional frailties had been well-documented, many of them in his own lyrics. It was hugely touching to see him back performing after so long. But after that tour, and that Best Of which yielded only two new songs, there was nothing. Perhaps that was all that could be expected of 21st century Kev.
 |
| Dexys at Shepherd's Bush in May. I couldn't go to this :-( |
Two songs in and Rowland is howling out his inner confusion in Lost. At the album's core is a five-song suite that chronicles a doomed relationship in condensed form, beginning with She Got A Wiggle's lascivious early stirrings of passion and culminating with the magnificent Incapable of Love, wherein Rowland and actress/co-vocalist Madeleine Hyland exchange bitter recriminations re his inability to conduct an adult relationship.
Several songs contain spoken-word sections (echoing 1985's uncommercial epic Don't Stand Me Down), with band members occasionally taking the role of Kevin's conscience, confidante, or an unspecified authority figure (Pete Williams excels in the main sidekick role throughout). The final track, It's Okay John Joe, seems like a distillation of Rowland's entire psyche. "I don't show much of myself in life," he confides to a silent friend/child/protege, "but in my music I tend to put it all in. It's like I've got a need to get it all out of me."
Whether this qualifies as strength or weakness (or both) is a moot point - it's the quality that his fans have found so compelling over the years, for better and for worse.
The rest of the show features a similar selection of old classics to the 2003 shows, including the bizarre music hall routine-as-framing-device with Williams as a policemen which didn't really need resurrecting. An extended, full-on Eileen and finale of This is What She's Like, though, most certainly did. Both these songs showcase the band - sometimes overshadowed by their frontman's peculiar pyrotechnics - in all their soul-fuelled glory.
(Still no Geno, though.)
It's doubtful that Dexys will win many converts as this stage of the game. But so what? They've just cemented their position as one of the most cherished bands this country has produced. Somewhere, hopefully, Kevin Rowland knows this too.
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