Electric Co in Schiedam

Electric Co

I don’t see cover bands as a rule, but since I was at this ‘Joshua Tree 20th anniversary release party’ anyway I thought it would be good practice to shoot the band and try ‘different’ things. And not be afraid to screw up the shoot. In the end I didn’t try that many ‘different’ things, but putting a 20mm on the body did give me a different perspective, har har. I am very pleased with this Sigma 20/1.8’s performance in concert circumstances. It’s got great colours.

Not a lot of concerts photographers shoot with primes (= fixed focal length lenses) like I do. They’re either sporting their 70-200’s zoom, or some variant of a 24-70, or wider – I always see this one guy who always has some kind of really flat lens on his body, it hardly protrudes from the body. I hardly ever use anything wider than 50mm, as I tend to go for close ups. Maybe it’s time to reevaluate, get a wide zoom other than my Sigma 24-70/2.8, which I’ve tried to use before but doesn’t seem to work that well.

The lad shooting next to me at the The National gig was using a Tamron 17-50/2.8. I might get me one of those for starters, before I splash out for a Canon 16-35/2.8L .

See the slideshow at Flickr.com.

Marc Almond live, alive

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Dubbed ‘The English Piaf’ by the British press, he does resemble a little sparrow a bit. The motorcycle accident he had three years go has left its marks. Marc Almond’s tough tattoos don’t obscure the fact he seems a little frail now. In his stylish suit he reminds me most of that other French chansonier, Charles Aznavour, whose work Almond has covered. I think he’s aging well.

On stage he admits he’s got trouble remembering his lyrics now and when, during a fabulous performance of Jacques Brel’s Jacky, he’s climbed on top of the grand piano, his tour manager has to help him climb off. Ouch. ‘I’ve done my back in,’ he says and grins and bears it.

Almond’s voice is strong. As always he edges a little close to sharp at times – a catty Dutch journalist used to call him ‘that off key queen out of Soft Cell’ back in the day – but he is always full of unbridled passion. Seasoned performers are the biz. And they need your support as much as newcomers, don’t be mistaking.

The venue’s filled up with ex-goths, you can tell. They don’t wear make up anymore – unlike Almond – but they’re still clad in black threads, two or three sizes up. They probably have well paid jobs, they are ‘creatives’ and they adore their MacBooks. Sorry, I’ve been working with tv demographics data a little too much lately.

It would be fun to drag a couple of emo-kids from their Evanescence concerts and show them what lies in store for them, Scrooge-like. I jest. I’d rather have this devoted but clearly geriatric crowd than cackling, texting, fickle  20-somethings. This lot know of Almond’s misfortune, that much is clear. Even before he’s sung a note, he’s welcomed with a thunderous applause and the crowd’s enthusiasm doesn’t wane over the full two hour show. They sing along, the hands go up, the tears run rings and hearts swell. We’re close to a conga-line here, it’s that kind of atmosphere.

I surrender, let myself go with the flow, but the camera’s lens creates a bit of distance. Just enough to realise there is not a lot of difference between a night out with Almond and evening with Engelbert Humperdinck, that’s entertainment. Marc is so very, very British. In Bizarro World he would probably make a fine Redcoat. In this reality, however, he’s just subversive enough to make it art.

I’d always liked Marc Almond’s work before, but as a live artist he was just a little too camp and over the top to really move me. He moves me now. The drama’s real and we all feel it. Back from death’s door, a miraculous recovery, just turned 50, from Sex Dwarf to Stardom Road… his opening song, Aznavour’s J’ai Vécu, says it all, really: I’ll explain my life and show you all I am and all I’ve been, and I’ll say for my defence that I have lived.

Seen: Paradiso Amsterdam, October 27, 2007
This piece is a loose translation of the review posted to my Dutch 3VOOR12 weblog.

The Church: still soldiering on

Where do rockbands go when they grow old? The small room upstairs at the Paradiso.

It’s unfair perhaps and it must smart, but The Church soldiers on. All the good bands do. Whether you perform in front of thousands or in someone’s living room, you play as if it’s your last show.

I go see young bands, I go see the big names, I go to club gigs, I – reluctantly – enter stadiums to watch the megas. And I get jaded about concerts and complain I’m not getting what I need from them, most of the time.

Young bands especially, I find, have no stage craft and no mystique. (There’s always exceptions – Arcade Fire for example have plenty of both.) I want bands and their frontmen in particular to make me believe. Believe them. Believe something. I like to see bands play because they need to, not because they want to.

I go see bands full of expectations and come away disappointed a lot of the time. So when I went to see The Church I expected them well past their heyday, coasting on past glory. Instead I watched four guys soldiering on with more fire in the belly than a lot of the new ‘The’-bands put together. Overcoming ridiculous technical problems, they played blistering versions of songs from their vast repertoire.

Steve Kilbey - The Church

Frontman Steve Kilbey, past the pretty but sporting a distinguished bearded look, still oozes star quality despite the weary, dog-tired I’m-too-old-for-this-game vibe that surrounds him. He commanded the room. How do I know this? He asked people to lay off the ciggies because they hurt his throat. Dutch people don’t like to be told ‘no’. But they obeyed. And when the pauses between songs became longer and longer while the drummer and techs tried to rid the stage of a persistent buzzing, nobody complained. Kilbey made up stories to pass time, people listened.

I left the Paradiso floating several feet above the ground and with a keen, renewed, interest in the band. I spent the weekend gorging information, properly obsessing and hungry for the chime of Peter Koppes and Marty Willson-Piper’s riffs.

Next time, give them back the big room, Paradiso.

Steve Kilbey - The Church

Lex van Rossen, R.I.P.

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Lex is dead. I knew he was ill, but it’s still a shock. Lex shot the cover photo of my book. I’ve always been disappointed with the way the print came out and I have been meaning to fix that in the pdf version I’ve been working on, on and off. To give that image the full page it deserves. I knew Lex from going to concerts in the 80s and 90s. He was always in my way (for the first three songs) and we’d laugh about it – he wasn’t the tallest himself. He was a fantastic photographer, a real craftsman and one of my photography heroes. He must be taking pictures of angels now.

Here is some of his work. You may know it.
Chris Isaak’s Heart Shaped World
Bono vs De Kuip
More pictures

For sale: iRiver iFP-180T

It’s taken me a while, but I’ve finally sussed that I’ve no need for music 24/7 and definitely not in my ear when I’m on the go. I got this lovely little iRiver 128mb (MP3, WMA player with FM radio) iFP-180T last year to aid me in writing my book. I used it to listen to U2 concerts while commuting – a great way to save time when it was in need of some. But I haven’t used it since I finished the book. Like my iBook, this thing should be in the hands of someone who appreciates it.

(Specs.) (Price.) Yours for 75 Euro. Or make me an offer.