Ok, I know that strictly speaking this blog is about records, but since Slowdive have come up in our conversations, and yes mainly from me, I thought it would be ok to do a review of a gig they played at the Phoenix in Exeter. Plus, it’s also been 3 years since anyone wrote anything on here. So, here we go…
Slowdive, indie shoegaze band of the late 80s/early 90s made a surprise visit to Exeter Phoenix on 24th June, as a warm up for their debut at Glastonbury the following day. Well, it was a surprise to me as I only noticed that day that it was happening! Saddened to see that it had sold out I moped about the house and dulled my feelings of fomo with, well, more feelings of fomo.
The last time I saw Slowdive was in 1991, and being a bit of a fan back then I had even managed to get backstage with the band – having not bought a ticket and just rocking up. So, I felt some affinity with my youthful self, and sure that I might be able to pull it off once again. Back then I had got myself on the guest list. So, guided by Rob and Nick’s goading, and my wife’s (Claire’s) encouragement, I headed down to the Phoenix with some hope in my heart, mixed with a fair dose of fomo!
When I got there the venue was filling rapidly with young and old fans. People wearing faded old t-shirts from tours gone by. My crowd. My heart raced a little. Would I get in? I enquired at the desk. Guest list full, no returns. Queue right down Gandy Steet. Few bands can claim to have a comeback so alluring as Slowdive’s. They originally disbanded in the mid 90s – and came back in the 2000s having influenced Ulrich Schnauss, Deafheaven, Tokyo Shoegazer, amongst others who have tried to weave their dreamy chords as their own. I’ve heard them pop up in adverts, in quirky films (‘Avalyn II’ is the soundtrack to the opening scene of the bizarre film Nowhere) and often in conversation about early 90s indie bands. Their comeback album from 2017 is something of a marvel. Managing to bring a new edge and grownup sound to the hazy reverb of 90s shoegaze, while clearly drawing on newer sounds. It was a top 10 album in most best of lists of that year. In fact I recall that Tom quiet liked it. I’ve certainly given it many a run out over the last 6 years.
Anyway, back to the gig, my luck was in! A man with a stick, coming from Stroud (he said) shouted out “spare ticket” after he’d handed in his paperwork and got a stamp on his wrist. I leapt, mine for £20 and two pints of cider as it happened. I had not lost my youthful opportunism. I was in. Against the odds it seemed.
The support, Pale Blue Eyes from Totnes, were a heady and vibrant mix of 80s pop come 70s Krautrock, certainly ones to watch for, and great warm up for the main act. They professed gratitude for being there several times. They had a sense of the occasion. I think by the looks on most people’s faces we all felt the same, not least myself. This seemed like a special event. One for the moment, but definitely the archives.
Once I had bought two pints for ‘man with a stick’ the crowd began to assemble, so following them reverentially into the darkened hall of the Phoenix I took my place near the back (see photo at the foot of this post). Some things have changed since the early 90s when I would cling to the front barrier. A lone figure came out from side stage to take a shot of the assembled with their phone, as if to capture this great moment. Then out came the band to the same music I think they played back in 1991. At least I think so. My memories of that event are as hazy as the dreamy chords that played as the pale lights shone up from the stage, the atmospheric quiet thunder of guitar growing to a crescendo. A few of the early numbers, “Slowdive”, the sublime “Avalyn” melted chiming lead vocals from the supremely caped and bejewelled “local girl” – Rachel Goswell (she lives in Exmouth these days) – and the lower key of capped and bearded Neil Halstead*.
I think the vocal combination of Slowdive is perfectly deceptive, here live capturing their harmonies that seem to blend with carefully placed guitar notes. I close my eyes and can barely tell the difference between guitar and vocal. Then “Catch the Breeze” – the tune that led me to them in the first place when I caught them on the Chart Show in the 90s. I was young again. Floaty vocals, and shimmering light of chords filled the hall. The assembled mass of people with barely an inch to move, drenched in the glow of the lighting and wonderous sounds. Crowd pleasers from the last album, “Star Roving” and “ Sugar For the Pill” blended seamlessly into older numbers like “Alison”, lifting the roof, and it seemed the spirits of old and new shoegazers alike. I saw old men praying, gently rocking in the light of the strobe lights, young too, eyes wide. Mums and dads brought sons and daughters to this gig. This was truly a rapturous reception for a band so beloved. A track from their last album (Pygmalion**) of the 90s ‘Crazy For You’ was lifted to new heights live, the simple and repeating chord sequence echoing around the small hall of the Phoenix. Now, I have to say that I’ve never been a big fan of the sound in the Phoenix. It’s often lacking depth, but tonight I don’t really notice that. There are a few complaints from the ‘techies’ at the back of the hall though. Why do they tend to stand near the mixing desk?
At one point Rachel mentioned it was the first time they had played a gig in Devon. Maybe that was true in this new incarnation, but it did feel new to them, and us. The set itself covered a some of the new tunes – their new album will be out in September – some six years after the previous one. Eat your heart out My Bloody Valentine on gaps between records! Rachel let out an exasperated “finally” about the delay between recordings, and the fact they were playing Exeter. I get the feeling that fans of this band will wait for them. I’ve waited a long time for them to play Exeter. So much so I think I fell asleep and nearly missed them.
There were few gaps between songs, and mercifully little chat other than to thank us all for coming, and bizarrely a joke about a stick (‘What’s brown and sticky?’). To add to the madness and coincidence of stick themes to the night, we were treated to a Syd Barrett cover – ‘Golden Hair’. The Madcap himself. Quite an extraordinary cover. Watch it here. A melodious thrash out. Slowdive did crescendo with aplomb on this one.
By the time the encore faded, with the almost relentless, repetitious feedback thrash of “40 days, having led with the thoughtful ‘Dagger’, their adopted Devonian lead singer had left the stage in flashing limelight. The remaining band members playing out the reverberating chaos and beauty of their parting shot. Even some shoe gazing was going on. Just like days of old. When the feedback faded, we the audience walked out as reverentially as we had come in. The cathedral of sound still ringing in our ears and down the cobbled streets of Exeter. Into the night we parted. I laughed. I made it there, but only on a whim.
Blessed were we to see them. Some of us by men carrying sticks! Please come again.
* I had spotted someone who I thought might be Neil Halstead in the bar before the gig, but then there were several bearded guys in caps who might fit the bill. After a bit of a stare I decided to sit down and just drink my beer. Hope he didn’t notice the staring.
** I only just recently bought a copy of Pygmalion. Hammered in the press at the time the sleeve notes seem to suggest that this album put a nail in the coffin of the 90s Slowdive, and then they morphed into Mojave 3, a band we have not covered before at DRC. I actually quite like the folksy trippiness of Pygmalion, but I can see why it jarred at the time.
Devon Record Club 