Little did I
realise when I set off by National Express, British Rail, Sea Link Ferries and
the NMBS/SNCB for my first TSOM gig abroad that I would be witnessing a piece of
history, what would turn out be the first Sisters gig without founder member
Gary Marx. Arriving in the historic Flanders city of Ghent, we had our first
pleasant surprise, as not only did the McDonald’s (conveniently situated near
the magnificent architecture of St Bavo’s Cathedral, St Niklaas’ church and the
old belfry in the mediaeval town centre) serve the “extra large” French fries
portion unavailable in the UK, but they also served beer to wash down your
burger – how very civilised.
Taking care to
avoid the silent trams (towns in the Low Countries having made the wise decision
not to ditch this form of transport in the early 60’s, unlike in Great Britain)
we made our way to the magnificent Vooruit venue, which turned out to be a real
architectural gem. Built in Art Nouveau style immediately prior to the first
world war, the Feestlokaal van Vooruit had been built as a festival and arts
centre by a socialist co-operative to enable workers to enjoy culture without
being financially exploited, but had since had a chequered career, including use
by the Nazis as a restaurant for their officers to dine in during the Occupation
of the Second World War. Like many similar institutes across Europe, the venue
gradually fell into disrepair in the 60’s and 70’s , before re-launching as an
arts venue in 1983.
Arriving at the
reception area at the front of the arts centre, we discovered signs indicating
that the gig was sold out (fortunately we already had tickets) and were told by
the helpful reception staff that the concert hall (Zaal Vooruit) where the gig
was to take place was actually around the back of the building. Heading back
outside, we noticed that the record shop opposite had wisely plastered its
window with copies of the sleeve of FALAA, then riding high at number 8 in the
Belgian album charts, and they still had the gatefold edition for sale, unlike
stores in the UK where this had quickly sold out. Groups of fans were already
beginning to congregate, and rumours began to spread that Gary had not travelled
with the rest of the band, with various reasons being suggested as to why this
might be the case. When Wayne Hussey emerged from the venue shortly afterwards
clutching an already half-empty bottle of red wine from which he was swigging
liberally (having presumably liberated it
from the band’s rider after the lengthy
soundcheck), he was immediately
besieged by a small army of fans, a situation somewhat different to the UK,
where aficionados tended to keep their distance.
We had more time
to ponder the differences between the TSOM fans in the two countries whilst
waiting around the back of the venue by the canal for the doors to open. The
Flemish audience was younger, more brightly dressed, and less uniform than their
UK counterparts. Not for them brooding in near silence in small black clad
groups sucking their cheeks in and pouting in doomed attempts to look cool.
Paisley shirts, exotic hairstyles of the type footballers have only recently
started to sport some thirty years later, velvet trousers, there seemed to be an
“anything goes” atmosphere of individuals expressing their own style, which
seemed strangely liberating compared to our own uniform of leather and studs in
which we sweated in the early evening sunshine.
Once inside, we could appreciate the decaying grandeur of the venue
itself, painted in a dark purple with gold fittings, and with a relatively low
roof considering that it had a shallow balcony around all three sides, in the
style of Leeds University Union’s refectory. Having acquainted ourselves with
the venue’s European style bar system (queue up to buy ticket, queue up to
exchange ticket for lager) –it would have been rude, not to, when in Rome etc –
we found a suitable spot in the rapidly filling hall to enjoy the performance of
support band Flesh and Fell, whose impressive performance I have previously
written about in this blog.
(pic Bruno Bollaert)
Looking back,
one can only imagine the nerves in the Sisters’ dressing room before they took
to the stage that evening. Could they manage without Marx, the visual focal
point of the live show, the shy Eldritch’s emotional crutch for the past five
years ? I had my own doubts, not being a particular fan of Hussey’s past, his
style or his naked ambition. However, from the first chords of FALAA, it was
clear that he was more than capable of literally filling the void, the band
putting on a focussed yet emotional gig which ticked all the boxes. Although it
lacked the humour and unpredictability of, say, the gigs of 1983, it also lacked
the cold pomposity of the RAH gig just two months later, when the band performed
its own last rites in somewhat perfunctory
style. The well-respected then local newspaper Het Volk, reviewing the
gig (a copy of which has been kindly lent to me by long-time TSOM uber-collector
spiggytapes), complimented the band on their “surprisingly full sound” in
a performance which the headline described as “disciplined and contemporary”.
Von’s vocals were focussed and crystal clear, with Lurch’s bass more prominent
in the mix for the first time for a couple of years, adding significantly to the
overall aural effect. The euphoric feeling in the crowd lasted throughout a
well-paced gig (much of which can now be
audio streamed on YT), culminating in a relaxed “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”,
Hussey’s guitar singing as never before as the concert ended in
triumph.
(pic from Sisters wiki)
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