The Tears @ London Astoria - live review 16th Feb 2005
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First, the new generation. Sadly, The Magic Numbers’ perfect blend of country, soul, hope and heartache proves to be too understated for a chattering crowd, buoyant in anticipation for tonight’s main attraction. Even the tremendous triptych of 'Love Is Just A Game', 'Love Me Like You' and 'Morning’s Eleven' fails to ignite interest in 2005’s classiest hopes, prompting singer Romeo to ask, "Are you fuckin’ dead?". Hmmm.
Even if The Tears tonight are a disappointment to those quietly hoping for – if not necessarily expecting – a triumphant return to the stomping euphoria of yore, there’s at least something to be said for Brett Anderson’s commanding, tambourine-arcing schtick. Smartly dressed and apparently in good spirits, he trashes his old band with between-song asides about "motorways and pigs" – and then proceeds, with Bernard Butler a seemingly willing accomplice, to trot out a withered collection of half-formed facsimiles and obvious retreads of Suede’s better moments.
'The Lovers' sees Butler mimicking Bowie/Ronson’s classic pose by facing up to Anderson with his back to the audience, but it seems staged and desperate. If rumours are to be believed, they’ve fallen out already: perhaps one of the pair (guess which?) has realised there’s nothing dignified about opportunism (see Mista Brown, former Suede bassist Matt Osman’s new project, for a touch of self-respecting pizzazz).
'Refugees' offers a faint glimmer of hope with its "Like Bonnie & Clyde/There’s nothing between us" sentiment, but it remains unclear who this "new" music is actually for – being slightly pointless for original fans and anachronistic for the Killers-loving kids. Early retirement to a Dordogne winery beckons.
Even if The Tears tonight are a disappointment to those quietly hoping for – if not necessarily expecting – a triumphant return to the stomping euphoria of yore, there’s at least something to be said for Brett Anderson’s commanding, tambourine-arcing schtick. Smartly dressed and apparently in good spirits, he trashes his old band with between-song asides about "motorways and pigs" – and then proceeds, with Bernard Butler a seemingly willing accomplice, to trot out a withered collection of half-formed facsimiles and obvious retreads of Suede’s better moments.
'The Lovers' sees Butler mimicking Bowie/Ronson’s classic pose by facing up to Anderson with his back to the audience, but it seems staged and desperate. If rumours are to be believed, they’ve fallen out already: perhaps one of the pair (guess which?) has realised there’s nothing dignified about opportunism (see Mista Brown, former Suede bassist Matt Osman’s new project, for a touch of self-respecting pizzazz).
'Refugees' offers a faint glimmer of hope with its "Like Bonnie & Clyde/There’s nothing between us" sentiment, but it remains unclear who this "new" music is actually for – being slightly pointless for original fans and anachronistic for the Killers-loving kids. Early retirement to a Dordogne winery beckons.
Charlie Ivens
posted by Anonymous @ Friday, February 18, 2005
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