“If you want slick, go and watch Gary fucking Barlow…”
Pete Wylie was not impressed by the heckler who demanded he “gerron with it”.
As anyone who has seen the gobby Scouser over the years, the chat is almost (almost) as important as the music, with seven or eight minute interludes between every song.
Very entertaining it is, too.
Tonight, there are familiar bantering sideswipes at Bunnyman Ian McCullough; a touching tribute to DJ Janice Long (RIP) for whom Wylie wrote ‘Heart As Big As Liverpool’; and a reminiscence about seeing a looter with a telly running down the road after a gig at Brum’s Cedar Club in July 1981 (I was there!) on the night rioting broke out across England.
John Peel got a glowing, grateful reference and there was a nod to local lad Kevin Rowland, whose original incarnation of Dexy’s helped fashion Wylie’s soulful take on anthemic post punk.
This much was par for the course, but tonight the interludes were prolonged by technical glitches afflicting his laptop, which contained the sound files designed to give the show that full-on 64 track studio sheen.
Wylie’s band seemed more than capable of delivering a convincing, stripped back version of his classic tunes, but the man is clearly a perfectionist. He referenced an ADHD diagnosis.
As the interruptions continued, bassist, drummer and keyboard player were all dismissed, leaving Wylie to conclude the set with a powerhouse solo version of ‘Story Of The Blues’, showcasing his rich, passionate vocals and fervent guitar heroics.
It was brilliant - and maybe he should take the hint.
A live gig simply isn’t a studio - and doesn’t need to be. Great songs like ‘Seven Minutes To Midnight’ and ‘Come Back’ can connect without the choir and orchestra.
My mate, the author Dave Haslam took me back after the show to meet Pete, who was distraught in the dressing room.
I really felt for him, but hope the experience doesn’t put him off gigging. He’s a terrific entertainer, with a fantastic song book.
Next time, he should just leave the laptop at home.
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