The sweet sensation.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at The HMV Forum, London (Friday 23rd April 2010)
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club became my favourite band eight years ago, when my uncle took me to see them at The Forum. I was 13, and it was my second ever rock concert.
So tonight, as I stand outside the same venue once again and think back to the fateful night that’s forever tattooed to the back of my mind, they have a lot to live up to.
***
The house lights cut out. The stage went dark, save for four gold lamps that shone into the audience’s eyes. An intro song started to play on the venue’s speakers. Buddy Guy’s haunting ‘Baby Please Don’t Leave Me’. The backlighting and smoke machines combined to gradually form a solid gold mist that flooded the empty stage. And then, born out of the fog like some kind of hellish creature, three leather-clad silhouettes appeared. Without wasting an instant, they exploded into ‘War Machine’, the fiercest and downright dirtiest track from their latest album, Beat The Devil’s Tattoo.
It was as if they had ripped off a section of the Earth’s crust and plugged their instruments into the planet’s molten core to harness its raw energy. From that moment on, they relentlessly charged ahead like apocalyptic horsemen, blasting out their unique blend of souped-up, bluesy rock ‘n’ roll.
And considering that they’ve just replaced Nick Jago on drums, they were astonishingly tight and precise. Leah Shapiro looked like a life-long member of the motorcycle club, sitting at the back of the stage, thundering the drum kit with all her might. It was as if she was mining each song with dynamite, searching for – and finding – the maximum potential of her band-mates. Like a slave driver, pushing the band to its limit, even if it meant collapsing from exhaustion.
Possibly the highest, and most surprising, point of the show, was the decision to play ‘Annabel Lee’ – a bonus track from the new album. It was a risky choice having a slow and moody intermission in such a ferocious set. But it worked. Beautifully. Being an Edgar Allen Poe poem, it managed to maintain, if not heighten, the mythical, Faustian atmosphere of the concert.
Finally, to the fans’ delight, Black Rebel launched into ‘Spread Your Love’ to finish the show. They played it with such force, such enthusiasm, it sounded as though they were performing it for the first time.
And when they had eventually, reluctantly ground to a halt, Robert Been unslung his guitar and half-heartedly – as if the song had already done most of the work – smashed his guitar on the stage, before discarding its carcass into the mass of clawing shadows below.
The encore. And I couldn’t believe what I was hearing – a song I thought I’d never hear Black Rebel Motorcycle Club play. At first I couldn’t recognise it. Something seemed familiar but I wasn’t quite sure what. I racked my brains trying to work it out. Then it hit me. It was ‘Open Invitation’, the superb hidden track from their 2005 masterpiece, Howl, but it was a revamped version, dropping harmonium in favour of bass and electric guitar. And as they played it, the golden fog seeped back onto stage from the shadows and a cage of bright green lasers materialised, trapping the band, restraining them, locking them away for the night and making sure they didn’t do any more damage.
The next morning, I woke up to find I was ill. And, not surprisingly, I found that BRMC had posted a statement on Facebook, saying their next show had been cancelled due to “illness in the band”.
I wouldn’t find it strange if everyone inside that building, that night, is bed-ridden for the next few weeks. It’s definitely going to take a while for me to recover.
