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12/07 Manchester Carling Apollo Release Tour, Manchester Apollo, 12/7/02 Pet Shop Boys love pop music, love cities, love nightlife, and, by association, love Manchester. They like it so much maybe they’re due honorary citizenship; a decade ago they jokingly claimed that Chris’s Blackpool roots meant they were responsible for the Madchester scene, whilst their Electronic collaborations with Bernard Sumner and Johnny Marr lend their musical link greater credence. They played live at the Hacienda’s fifteenth birthday party, reworking ‘Violence’ as Madchester turned sour, and last performed in the city during 1999’s Nightlife wig-out. As northerners who have spent the majority of their lives living in London, Neil and Chris are clearly enjoying a renewed relationship with the north. They recorded ‘Release’ at Neil’s northern base out in the sticks; a location which certainly lends the record its warmth and, in places, its sense of isolation. This north/south dichotomy is obviously also a source of inspiration; tonight they tell tales of ‘Sexy northerners’, and at the merchandise stall the unapologetically loud t-shirts sporting this slogan are the fastest sellers. It’s a classic Pet Shop Boys b-side; we think it’s about them, and they think it’s about us. The sequencers are checked before Neil and Chris arrive at the Manchester Apollo, and those of us drinking in the sunshine outside the pub behind are treated to a blast of bass-heavy ‘Love come quickly’, stripped of its vocal and layered feedback and sounding darker than ever. The coach pulls up shortly afterwards, and the main players spill out; Chris sneaking round the side, possibly trying to pass himself off as one of the crew. I catch his eye, and he stops to sign my ‘I get along’ slipcase, denying, in typical Chris fashion, he knows what it is, or even of the single’s imminent release. Neil is more interested in worrying about a flyer thrust into his hand promoting an aftershow party, and in trying to avoid getting wayward marker pen on his hands and clothes. They are polite and quick; it’s clear they’re here to do a job. Electroclash, last month’s big thing, is another ‘genre’, along with acid house and trip-hop, which sounds far better on paper than in reality. The hour and a half which precedes ‘an evening of the new Pet Shop Boys’, as Neil later introduces them, sounds far from being the sexy soundtrack it should be. Pet Shop Boys have been suggested as a historical reference point for this music, and again they’re probably quite happy with this association, but in truth it’s wide of the mark. Pet Shop Boys would have binned this stuff at the demo stage. The staging is sparse and industrial, reminiscent of that used for the Uni-tour, with the exposed iron lighting columns and unhidden Marshall amplifiers. The packing cases become part of the set, stacked up at the back. Ian McNeil’s stage design is simplistic and clever; he’s obviously been clearly briefed on the thinking behind the current PSB incarnation. A few numbers in, the lights whirl round to light up the back of the stage itself, the curtains removed and the brickwork displayed in all its glory; the effect is staggering. It’s one of the best moments of the evening; I’ve seen a great many bands on the Apollo stage, but none made it look as good as this. However, it’s the lighting that’s the true star of the show; for much of it the band are back lit, appearing in little more than silhouette. Such atmospherics suit the music perfectly, particularly the newer songs. When the disco numbers arrive, the lights take on a more traditional role. ‘Home and dry’ kicks things off, although this isn’t immediately clear, as it’s a full band take on the Blank & Jones mix. It’s a rock version of a dance mix of an AOR track recorded by the ultimate pop group, and that’s probably as simple as things get tonight. The possibility for multi-layered readings hits a peak during ‘Where the streets have no name (I can’t take my eyes off you)’, when PSB revisit their chance to sonically stamp all over U2 – and this time with guitars. It’s the extended mix, all Hi-NRG sequencer lines and vocodered outro, and it sounds fantastic. ‘Home and dry’, meanwhile, drops into the traditional arrangement as Neil steps onto the stage and up to the microphone. He’s immediately passed his guitar, a statement of intent for the evening ahead. His voice is superb, crystal clear. ‘Being boring’ follows, reminding us that beauty is not a new direction; they’ve been doing it for over a decade. The final verse, ‘some are here and some are missing’, is sung to Neil’s empty chair. This isn’t the rock show the puritans may have been dreading, but it’s not the electronic onslaught last seen on the Nightlife tour either. New Pet Shop Boys (possible (live) album title?) use both electronics and guitars, and the result is extremely melodic and textured, and has been used to redecorate songs from all their previous albums. ‘Red letter day’ is poppy enough, and ‘I get along’ is, as was intended, a scarf-waver. The aforementioned ‘Love comes quickly’ showcases their greatest new musical weapon; the sounds coming from Bic’s guitar are amazing, as otherworldly as anything coming from Chris’s rack of three synths. Cunning knob tweaking and some nifty footwork on numerous pedals layers the sound up, and the song’s timeless breathy pulse underpins the track. It sounds as contemporary as ever, darker, and, with its ‘sooner or later, this happens to everyone’ introduction, suitable for your funeral. ‘Domino dancing’ gets the Latin American party started, with the Voice In Fashion sampled wholesale from the record. It’s a crowd favourite, and Neil clearly enjoys it as well; things have stepped up a gear. The Release tour is far less focused than the Uni-tour earlier this year, but no one here seems to mind. The Apollo is packed, and people want the hits. ‘Always on my mind’ is introduced as ‘our favourite country and western song’, but they miss out on an opportunity to segue it with the beautifully performed ‘You only tell me you love me when you’re drunk’. ‘Birthday boy’ (‘a song about a murder’) takes the pace down a notch. The track builds and builds, with Chris rising out of his chair to play the guitar-style solos on the top keyboard of his rack. It sounds astonishing, and we could really do with time to recover, but the sampled street noise at the end walks us straight into ‘West End girls’, and we’re temporarily back into hit land. ‘Love is a catastrophe’ is tonight’s final track from ‘Release’, so we’re denied hearing Neil’s crotch-grabbing live take of ‘The night I fell in love’. It’s as harrowing as the record, and Neil’s grimaces and body language don’t look staged. A hastily dropped star curtain and low level purple lighting complete the performance of Release’s key moment. The applause gives way to Chris’s lone keyboard, and the slowed down introduction to a contrasting version of ‘Go West’. Placing it next to ‘LIAC’ initially brings out the song’s sadder qualities, but this soon gives way to the full party version, complete with the crowd on now compulsory backing vocal and pointing duties. Neil leaves the stage at the song’s end, leaving Chris and the band to complete the full-on disco coda. There’s much cheering and stomping of feet before they return. Neil’s swapped his black shirt for a black top, and as ‘Left to my own devices’ swells up, and Chris spins round on his swivel chair, they could almost be unintentionally recreating the video. ‘It’s a sin’ is the crowning glory, and it occurs to me how dateless their music sounds; it manages to be somehow both medieval and futuristic, as well as the soundtrack to my school days. A brace of power chords are lobbed into the mix for good measure, and, as Neil clutches the microphone, bathed in red strobe light for the prayer at the end, they look like the stereotypical Pet Shop Boys all over again. ‘You choose’, the closer from the Uni-tour and the initial US dates has been dropped, which is a shame as it would have been a nice return to the tour’s main remit, as well as a performance of one of their greatest new tracks. When New Order close their following night’s Manchester concert with ‘Blue Monday’ and then the beautiful ‘Your Silent Face’, it’s clear just how well a gentler track can successfully end a more rowdy evening. Bernard Sumner disappears backstage at the Apollo for a brief hello, and then an hour later Pet Shop Boys sneak out of a side fire door, stop to sign for those lucky enough to have second guessed them, and then with a hearty ‘right – I’m off – bye!’ from Chris, they are just that. It
was a great show, more than enjoyable. I remain immensely impressed
that they continue to look for different ways of recording and presenting
their music. As Pet Shop Boys fans we love pop music, and we’re
as upset as them at its current ill health. They remain a lone inspiration. -- The Pet Shop Boys @ The Apollo Never noted for their rocking live shows but always applauded for their grand theatrical interpretations, it's a revelation to finally see the Boys stripped to their bare essentials. No gigantic stage scenery, no costume changes and without an array of dancers or backing singers, Tennant and Lowe, the greatest "synth duo" of the eighties, have reduced themselves to frontage for the bog standard bass, guitar and drums rock 'n' roll line-up. Who'd have thought these rouged and kinky leather lovers would end up re-writing Fog On The Tyne, complete with a groin-thrusting, power-chord anthem chorus. I Get Along, the new single, so eclipses all other material from their new album, Release, that maybe they should think of collaborating with Bon Jovi next, rather than Kylie Minogue. By disposing of a traditional stage backdrop and instead exposing the gigantic red brick back wall of the Apollo, the Boys by default show they are still the doyens of great stage design. The raw husk of the venue plays perfect host to their new "honest" and "less ironic" direction. They make the Apollo look like a New York warehouse party and on occasion they provide the perfect soundtrack. Although initially Tennant chooses to cover his modesty with an acoustic guitar, blaring Balearic rhythms combined with Lowe's icy-fingered melodies, are reminders that to a generation, the Boys are the real rave deal. Love Comes Quickly finally has Lowe off his seat, albeit to flip the page of the music sheets on his little stand. We'd have all sat down through a medley of newish songs (Love Is A Catastrophe, Birthday Boy) and a perfunctory West End Girls, given the choice. New York City Boys picked up the beat again and a thigh-slapping rendition of Willie Nelson's Always On My Mind climaxed with the promise of what would be a great cover of the Stone Roses' Waterfall. Strange, that for a group celebrated for their song writing, the biggest eruptions were reserved for cover versions: none bigger than for the Boys' joyous take on U2's Where The Streets Have No Name. A big, brash, epic cabaret version of the Village People's Go West is another high point. They
skip off with a celebratory It's A Sin and without even really breaking
into a sweat the still-clever Pet Shop Boys show why they'll still
be lushly squeezing out their hits well into their approaching fifties. |
