MARTYN ON THE MOVE
JOHN MARTYN (National Stadium, Dublin)
“AYE, SOUNDS different all right.” John Martyn’s audience has always held a few strong opinions – they were all there, bellowing comments and requests and, only once or twice, jokes. One or two weren’t all that happy with this strange new music … in recent years, after all, he’s played solo, which meant relying far more on sounds and effects, which he has mastered more than most. It had become a ritual with some of the fans to overload certain parts of their anatomy so as to make the most use of the soaring sounds, and this complex, jazz-oriented music didn’t offer the same… aaah… chemical possibilities.
Oh well, the music was dancing, take-a-chancing. If moving on leaves some claims on the stranded, well, so be it. In a world where re-treads for disciples of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and yes, Tich rule the air – my god, it’s the Pirates Of Penznacel – people like John Martyn, seeking revelation in the music and in the personal explorations, have a value of almost mythical proportions. To calculate is to castrate. We need people who are crazzzy.
Metropolis, who opened the show were good, but maybe not crazzy enough. Close, and getting closer, (and jazz-funk is respectable again – odd, since the music didn’t change aah, these fashions!) they suffer only from a lack of sharp focus.
There were moments where Martyn’s band also lost focus, but only rarely. In many ways, between them and 99% of the audience there was a massive empathy, only mildly spoiled by a small bit of oddness involving some bouncers and would-be dancers. “Sweet Little Mystery” became an inspiration, though, with the girls in the audience singing along all the way…
That kind of concert – much of it based on more recent material, and a lot of the time played for the playing. Three to get ready is Martyn’s line. All body electric except for two in the middle, “May You Never” and “Spencer The Rover”. “Big Muff”, dedicated to Maggie Thatcher, was rocking and rolling. Muscular.
“Sweet Little Mystery” had its soaring bass solo, Max Middleton had his cigar-store inscrutability and angler’s hat, “Save Some” danced, he played “Inside Out”, and “Couldn’t Love You More” lost no warmth. Martyn’s guitar is coming under the control required in a band of this size and musical density, as are his singing and phrasing. Closer and closer to the voice-as-instrument. This ensemble’s understanding of texture is paramount. Texture illband feeling.
Now that they’ve been on the road bouncing off one another, the next album should be a wonder. A cracker.
Chris Donovan
Hot Press
13 May 1983
National Stadium, Dublin
4 May 1983
