| There’s a tall man dressed
in black, wearing a leather jacket that’s a fraction too petite for his build,
pacing a small area of the large stage imposingly, the commanding focus of a band
that offer little in the way of visual focus. Chris Olley (for he is that man),
might not have ‘it’ but he’s definitely got something, and that something should
really be good enough. It’s hard to work out why it’s not. In a country that gives
the impression of expecting only that (X-Factor siphons millions from it in phone
revenue every Saturday night, and did it ever fulfil its presumptuous title, just
once?) it should be more than enough. But despite composing 4 albums of and ahead
of the moment they still languish unappreciated, shedding members, label-less,
stripped, alone. And that’s sad.
They’re not precisely what they used
to be – a swelling organic approximation of Spiritualized and the Pixies – that’s
evident through a stronger reliance on sequencing these days. It’s effective on
some of the newer songs, the electronically-laced ‘Bocham’ glints like a tastefully
dressed Christmas tree tonight, but generally comes across as a mark of necessity.
Which is how they seem in themselves too. As they lost members they carried on
because they had to, but not exactly like their life depended on it, more through
habit. The stage is staffed with men making music, and that’s that. But that’s
what still makes them vital too. Their air of urgency may have eroded down to
its stump, but there are songs to redress that. Songs that are plaintive and hopeful,
like a sudden break in the storm clouds. Songs that are punishing, like they’ve
drained every iota of charge from their poles pushing against the grain. And that’s
why they must trudge onwards.
Tonight is practically a night-shelter
for the culturally neglected. The Delgados have never faltered, never been
put through the grinder, always released jubilant fucking king-sized colloquial
pop music and always received the torrents of free-flowing praise they so obviously
deserve. And they've delivered albums with happy regularity and pleasing tweaks.
They should be a benchmark, played twice a week on the Vic’s jukebox on Eastenders
and probably selling millions this Christmas soundtracking Richard Curtis films.
But instead they’re a footnote, and now John Peel’s gone who’s even going to play
their records?
They’re the kind of band you want to make toast for. The
sort for whom you’d even pop out and buy another box of teabags. They’re so adorable
– I mean look at Emma, she’s only as big as the guitar she’s disciplining up there
with relish – so warm, so accommodating, and exhibiting such an easy rapport it
only makes the mainstream’s ignorance seem more hurtful. The majority of their
currently underrated guitar-pop masterpiece, ‘Universal Audio’, is breezed through
like Teenage Fanclub and Nico having a pillow-fight across the entire 60s. ‘Get
Action!’ is like a bittersweet Boo Radleys and ‘Is This All That I Came For?’
like XTC skipping betwixt fluffy clouds. Pre current-tweak Delgados is also visited
pleasingly, ‘Accused Of Stealing’ and ‘Coming In From the Cold’ performed with
the sort of vibrant intensity that swallows you in one. “If we pay all of your
taxi fares home, will you stay till the end?”. Why does everyone not LOVE this
band?! Relevant sites:
http://www.delgados.co.uk
James Berry for Crud Magazine 2004©
October - December 2004- News Archive | |
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