From ‘69 to ‘80 Mott the Hoople enjoyed their fair
share of highs and lows, inspiring some pretty fanatical devotion from their
followers (The Clash’s Mick Jones famously followed them to the ends of the
earth...well Liverpool at least...which is close) and influencing a whole
generation of bands. Their charismatic lead singer, Ian Hunter, quit way back
in ’74 and given that he turned 70 in 2009 a comeback seemed unlikely. But that’s
just what they did. Fast forward a few years and with interest in the band
stoked further by 201l’s fascinating documentary Ballad of Mott the Hoople,
they’re back for more.
Opener Del Bromham (lead vocalist with 60s rock band
Stray) got the early birds in the mood leading a meaty 6 piece band in some
catchy classic sounding blues and rock numbers. He’s an impressive guitarist. Add
an archetypal rock drummer (hair, beard, denim), a dude who played harmonica
like a man possessed and a young lady trading under the unlikely name of Cherry
Lee Mewis and it added up to a pretty good package. Ballad of JD, a tribute to
the life, times and whisky of Mr Jack Daniels Esq, in particular stood out. Where
would rock be without a little...okay...a lot...of JD eh? Legend has it that
Lemmy drinks nothing else...LITERALLY nothing else.
Looking around the crowd tonight unsurprisingly it
was an overwhelmingly...ahem...older audience, some of whom were no doubt
spotty teenagers when they last saw the band live. This time round they’re more
likely to have liver spots. Music’s a miraculous thing though, as soon as
Hunter and co step onto the stage to the strains of Holst’s Jupiter (the I Vow
To Thee My Country bit) you can almost see the decades roll away and the entire
audience seemingly rose as one (this is a seated venue), remaining on their
feet for the next couple of hours.
Let’s get this straight from the start. Ian
Hunter must have a particularly knackered looking painting of himself in an
attic somewhere. Truly he is the Dorian Gray of rock n roll. He’s how old? 74?
No...no...he can’t be. Thin as a whippet, with curly (albeit blonde/grey) hair
and a rock star swagger, if you squint a bit he could pass for a man half his
age...or my age come to that. Remarkably his voice – a mix of Dylan, Bowie and
Reed (not a bad combination eh?) – is still intact too, ably demonstrated by opening
number Rock and Roll Queen. Without this there would be no Oasis (that might
well be a good thing but that’s another conversation), it’s as simple as that.
Hell they even borrowed some of the lyrics. In fact throughout the whole evening
it was possible to detect some of the origins of rock’s DNA, a debt seemingly
acknowledged by the presence of a certain Joe Elliot (Def Leppard mainman)
tucked away in the crowd with all the rest of the regular punters. Surely
tracks like The Moon Upstairs, played with a Who-like heft this evening, were a
permanent fixture of young Joey’s turntable back in the early 70s?
There’s even
a touch of punk about it, a good 5 years or so before the Pistols came spittin’
and screamin’ into the nation’s cosy living rooms. There’s more to Mott than heads down rock ‘n’ roll
though. Hymn For The Dudes (from ’73) is just one of the ‘ballads’ they play
this evening. Like many of Hunter’s lyrics this song could be interpreted in a
number of ways, Hunter himself has said it’s simply about friendship and
support, a song to give comfort to those who might be feeling lost and alone. Whatever
the true meaning it was impossible to miss the odd moist eye in the crowd.
Sucker gave the audience their first real chance to
sing along and Hunter led them in a riotous call and response. Not for the
first time the band rapidly changed pace again though with Waterlow (written
about Hunter’s divorce from his first wife) receiving a particularly enthusiastic
reception. I’m guessing a number of the blokes in the crowd have been through
similar stuff in their lives perhaps.
Local lad Overend Watts stepped up to the mic to
rapturous applause “Thank you fan” he acknowledged modestly “I was born here in
the 80s...1980s” he added jokily lest we all thought he was 130 (he was actually born in 1947!), before launching into
the straight up organ driven rock n roll shouter of Born Late 58. The regret
laden country tinged Ballad Of Mott the Hoople slows the pace again with the
line “I’m still a rock n roll star” getting a huge cheer. You can’t deny
it...he is. A cracking version of Violence underlined Mott’s influence on punk
bands more than any other track this evening with Overend Watts playing some of
the filthiest guitar in history. Not bad for an old dude with a bus pass. Seemingly
tiring of his endless changes of guitar Hunter took up position behind the
piano for the epic Journey which, as the lyrics hint at, does actually seem to
last “40 days and 40 nights”. Out of the corner of my eye I even caught Joey
Elliot air drumming at one point. Bless him.
As the gig drew to close they wheeled out the big
guns with Honaloochie Boogie, The Golden Age of Rock And Roll and All The Way
From Memphis, a trio of underrated classics. Encore? Of course. “You can sing
along and enjoy yourselves now” instructed Hunter. The audience didn’t need the
encouragement as several hundred arms were raised aloft to the strains of All
The Young Dudes. With the band silenced for a minute or two the crowd took over
and sang their hearts out in one of those “we’ll meet again” moments. “That was
really good” admitted Hunter afterwards. Roll Away The Stone kept the good
times coming before a moving version of Do You Remember The Saturday Gigs looked
back at Mott’s....and let’s face it...most of the audience’s golden age of the
late 60s and early 70s. Toward the end of the song Hunter moved to the edge of
the stage to sing and wave goodbye. Who knows, perhaps this really is the
swansong of one of rock’s most influential and underrated bands? Somehow I don’t
think so though. Incredibly 40 years on some things still are ‘Mott’ they
used to be.
Photos courtesy of the lovely Shakeypix
Photos courtesy of the lovely Shakeypix
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