Sunday, August 02, 2009


Concrete jungle
The Specials finally played in Auckland last night, 30 years since they formed. Took them long enough to get here, so just as well they were worth the wait.

I saw two double-decker party buses pull up in the carpark, with ska music blasting away, and hordes of ska-happy old bastards spilled out, skanking down the aisles and off the buses. As one of my mates commented, he didn't feel like to oldest person there. I saw hardly any young ska kids - a few smattering of studded mowhawk punk teens tho.

After waiting outside for the doors to open in the Logan Campbell Centre (when will this godawful venue mysteriously burn down?), the crowd milling outside made their way in, where they were greeted my huge queues waiting for service at the bar. It appeared there were three barstaff in total trying to serve a few thousand thirsty ska fans. One of my mates queued for about 20 minutes and gave up. Bit of an organisational failure, that.

Saw Stinky Jim, in the foyer with a bag of records: he'd had the pleasure of playing a few tunes as one of the support DJs (followed by an MC chatting with Terry Hall's son Felix DJing). He made some comment about how without the Specials (and other acts), he wouldn't have become the Stinky Jim that he is today, and also something about how nice it was to hear accents for good part of England!

Check out this gent below, was wearing a shiny silver suit, and had his hat embroidered for the gig. Classy. Surprised that more folk didn't make the effort to dress up. Plenty of pork pie hats tho.


So, inside we go (after bumping into a million old faces from the past). Bang on 930pm, on come the band, playing behind a white curtain backdrop, which falls away to revel them in front of a huge SPECIALS banner. Songs - everything you could want to hear off the first two albums, plus Ghost town and a few covers (54-46 was my number, Longshot Kick De Bucket).

First impressions - they manage to jump around for a bunch of old gits. Cept for grumpy Terry Hall. He loiters at the back of stage when not singing, and checks his watch a lot. Having said that, he was in fine voice, and even managed some droll stage banter between songs. For example: "So, we've been here for three days now, and when we got here, I checked the guide book, to see what there was to do, and you've only got like two or three fookin things to do - walk across a bridge, or jump off a fookin building. So if anyone knows of something in to do here, please let me know, seriously." Later, he suggested to the audience that "I know something we can do - how about someone come round tomorrow and do my dirty laundry?"

Still, he seemed to be having a miserrable time, while the rest of the band were bouncing around and giving their all. I heard later from someone closer to the action on stage that he was constantly checking his watch, sniping at Neville Staple, and giving off a very strong "I dont wanna be here" vibe. Okay, so he's in this for the money - fair enough - the rest of the band want a payday too (they didnt write the songs, so that makes sense) but Hall made a career and built his reputation on the back of this band. He just seems churlish. At one point he said on the mic, "Fookin hell, its 5 past 10 already" but that might've been a clever intro to Friday Night, Saturday morning. Or not.





Anyways, the mirror ball came out for the intro to Niteklub, then towards the end we got Ghost town (complete with trombone solo - they'd bought a horn section with them), which was brittle, gloomy, monstrous and just stunning. It was the only song of the whole night that moved beyond reproducing the records and became something quite extraordinary. Gotta say too, Roddy Radiation is a mean guitarist.

Then the encore, Too much too young, 54-46, Longshot kick de bucket, (during which the horn section are joined by two young kids to skank alongside them - huh?) and Enjoy Yourself to close. Give the people what they want.



Then, off to round two of Sat Nite Nostalgia Fest - The Newmatics at the Bacco Room (pictured above). After DJ sets from Printor and Benny Lee, the band took the stage to a full house after midnight. They blasted thru all their records and a handful of earlier punky numbers. Some of the tunes had aged better than others - Riot Squad and Doobie Do Boy still sound fresh and vital. They threw in a handful of covers (Soulman, Land of a thousand dances, which they used to do back in the day) and a version of T-Rex's Get it on, which didn't quite come off. Still, they acquitted themselves well, giving the songs the needed vigour to make them spark. Bloody good show!

So, who's next on this nostalgia buzz? Anyone taking bets?

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