Live
It's always slightly embarrassing when the headliners get blown off-stage by their support act, but that was in serious danger of happening on Tuesday night. I can't remember aforementioned support band's name, but I do know that they managed to make a sterling recovery from their first song sounding like 'Heaven Is A Half-pipe'. Perhaps by implication you can tell that they weren't amazing, their Beasties-like rapping playing second fiddle to their concerted efforts to kick the living crap out of each other, but they did have the frankly brilliant idea of taking the music to the people. Two of their number took a drum each into the audience to pound out their beats; the crowd grouped round them, caught up in an almost atavistic fascination. These guys had far too much energy for their own good.
Which isn't something that can be said of the Lo-Fi's too often. Indeed, the Albino Priest was so fucked that he seemed to be in permanent danger of falling off the stage, and by the end of the set had decided to take solace in hiding behind his hair. No matter, for dance is a faceless medium, is it not? Hmm. The loss of singer Dave 'The Wrekked Train' Randall between their first and second albums has definitely led to a loss of focus, too many of the new tracks meandering along in a tired (sic) and tested house vein. It matters less live as people are more than happy to dance like badgers, but the major crime of the evening comes with what they don't play. The standout track on Don't Be Afraid Of Love, 'Feel What I Feel', is a phenomenal piece of S Club pop funk that could easily have topped the charts were it fronted by pretty teenagers, rather than dishevelled-looking geezers who have been taken for drug dealers at their own gigs. And they don't play it. The bastards. Thankfully, the situation is partly redeemed by storming versions of 'Battleflag', 'Disco Machine Gun', and a 'Vision Incision' encore so mental that I thought my neck was going to break. I can honestly say I've never danced so much at the Zodiac.
"The Revolution Ball was wicked, one of the best gigs we've done". Having played over a hundred gigs in a nationwide tour that has been on the road for over a year, Chesney won me over from the start by recalling the last occasion I'd seen him play live. Your reviewer should probably confide at this point that he belongs to the rare breed of Chesney fans. Ownership of his first ever vinyl release mightn't be a badge of honour to carry around in public, but thankfully I'm not alone in being drawn in by Chesney-mania. Apparently it's quite catching these days, especially among students: "They're normally crazy, mad - I feel like I've been adopted by the student crowd", admits the fresh-faced darling of early Nineties pop. Perhaps students are more amenable to his no-nonsense, feel-good style. He's charming, one of the lads almost. "After this soundcheck, we're all going to go out and have a few beers", one of his friends says.
It's probably true that I'd rather reminisce about the early Nineties more than anything else, but he's happy to humour me. Once the star of the film Buddy's Song, and a pin-up face in classic clean-cut Nineties style, he tempers my enthusiasm for more Chesney appearances on film with "it's not something at the forefront of my mind." Maybe I need to move on. He's not even phased by the eternal obsession with his iconic one hit wonder 'The One and Only', released back in 1991 but still a regular feature of college bops and cheese nights everywhere. "I'll definitely be doing it tonight. It's my friend again now. I left it out of the set for seven years, but now it's very much back in." I suspect he must be tiring of it, but you wouldn't guess it from the energy on stage. Unsurprisingly, he leaves it until last, by which point the raucous masses are more than warmed up. "If I don't do 'The One And Only', I'll get lynched", he admits.
Oddly, there's a strange atmosphere in the audience, a sense that people want one thing from Chesney - I guess it's quite fortunate that he's happy to deliver it with as much relish as ever. He blasts through four covers, including a memorable rendition of 'American Pie' which has the rafters of the OFS shaking. This is certainly a man used to giving the crowd what they want.
Ches, as his roadies seem to call him, does seem a tad surprised that I'm so keen to hear about his new album, likely to be released this summer, though. Nevertheless, he's very upbeat, asserting that "I'm really proud of this album... it's songs that I need to get out there." Even speaking from a rather biased position, I was quite impressed by some of his new material. Perhaps I've just been brow-beaten by depressing caustic rock of late, but for some reason Chesney's relentlessly upbeat melodic rock is quite infectious.
Clearly some of us just can't get enough of Chesney. The local legions of fans will no doubt be excited to hear that he'll be appearing at the Union in May - "I'm really nervous, actually", he muses. I assure him that Oxford's adoring fans will be there to support him, and he breaks into a big smile. I think he's just too damn nice to be famous.
2nd May 2002