SHACK REVIEW, OCT 26, CARLING ACADEMY
Decisions, decisions. Friday night in Liverpool and the gig going crowd are spoilt for choice. Over at the Mountford Hall, it’s Ian Brown who despite not having a reason to show his face in public since the Stone Roses disbanded is still selling out arenas up and down the country. Over at the Cavern Club at a fiver a ticket, we have Echo and the Bunnymen. The billing at the other fringe venues is populated by a plethora of skinny-jeaned hopefuls who make up for their lack of songs with haircuts. For the purist though we have Shack, touring their ‘greatest hits’ album on home turf at the Carling Academy.
Shack’s history is one that is more suited to a novel than a review and is often so outlandish that anyone proposing a biopic would be laughed out of town on the grounds that it is too unrealistic. Rising from the ashes of the 1980s band The Pale Fountains, lead singer Mick Head and his brother John formed Shack. Their second album Waterpistol was lost in a studio fire and when an original copy was found in a glove compartment of a hire car in Los Angeles the band had split and were without a record label. Mick fell deep into the throes of drug addiction but along with John recorded the Magical World of the Strands, a string laden collection of poignant songs which received widespread critical acclaim but never threatened to trouble the charts. Shack re-formed to release Waterpistol after an off-chance meeting with a French label owner and then followed it up with HMS Fable. Mick’s wizened face appeared on the front cover of the NME with the strapline ‘This is our greatest living songwriter. Recognise him?’. Everything seemed to be set for glory, but with Mick’s addiction to heroin worsening, the promise the album brought had begun to fade away. The band had once again stolen defeat from the jaws of victory. However, ‘Here’s Tom With The Weather’ and last year’s ‘On the Corner of Miles and Gil’ sealed a succesful comeback, with the last album released by Noel Gallagher’s label ‘Sour Mash’.
The evening’s entertainment begins in the basement of HMV on Bold Street at five o’clock, where a crowd of around 200 have gathered for the ‘in-store’ appearance. After a rapturous welcome when the band appear from round the back of some world music CD racks, they start into a note perfect ‘Neighbours’ from Waterpistol and everything is going well. Two songs later, and in true Shack fashion, it looks like it might be a long evening ahead. Mick, perhaps ‘tired and emotional’ and affected slightly by the dedication of a song to his daughter, is forgetting the words of songs he’s performed every night for the last two weeks. The assembled crowd continue to look on in admiration but while the rest of the band are singing his lyrics Mick slumps over his guitar, still strumming but staring at the floor. The four song set is concluded by an apology and Mick dropping his guitar onto the ground.
It’s 9:30, and the Carling Academy is packed and full of expectation and when they break into the 1990 single ‘I Know You Well’ and it’s like the HMV performance never happened. They play with verve, confidence and a swagger that allows their majestic pop songs to shine through. Mick is back at his charismatic best, leading the band through perfect renditions of Comedy, Pull Together and a rousing Streets of Kenny, his ode to scoring heroin in Liverpool 7. John, a talented songsmith in his own right, chips in with Butterfly, Cornish Town and Miles Apart. Each song, new and old, is met with ecstatic acclaim, with the brothers offering embarrassed thanks in return. The outstanding highlight is the Love flavoured Meant To Be with it’s baroque inspired middle 8 usually lead by horns. Their absence on stage tonight is filled by the crowd, who joyously sing along the part instead. With that, the band are off the stage but are lured back on by the crowd continuing to sing along for minutes afterwards. A solo rendition of ‘Daniella’, perhaps the most autobiographical song in Mick’s canon, has the entire audience in total silence but the roof is almost lifted off for the show closer, a pulsating cover of Love’s ‘A House Is Not A Motel’. The Head brothers may have once toured with Arthur Lee as his backing band but this version is as good as anything their hero recorded.
The lights go up, Mick bids farewell with “I do love yers all, yer know” and the band disappear into the night with the crowd buzzing behind them. After all these years, these four middle aged greying men still have more talent, more showmanship and more songs than most bands that are critically feted and publicly popular. Why they remain ignored will stay as one of music’s great mysteries but as long as they keep delivering shows like this, none of the audience there on Friday night will mind.
(original pictures used)
