Together we are 1000 years old: The Psychedelic Furs, The Fixx, The Alarm

Thirty bucks for three bands whose heyday was 25 years ago. Who’s interested in going? Initially I was going to hold out, but eventually I gave in after remembering a few things about the bands playing tonight:

1. The Psychedelic Furs are cool, I have never seen them, and I could still rock out to “Soap Commercial” any day of the week.
2. There was a time that I loved The Alarm – this may have only been because they were friends of U2, and because they had some fine taste in civil war style clothes, but hey still that counts for something, doesn’t it?
3. A phone call to a high school girlfriend verified that she was eager to see The Fixx at last, after having missed them in 1983 due to a traffic jam on the way to the venue.

A call to Ticketmaster, and we’re off.

I know that I met the Alarm when I was about 18. I know this only because I have a photo of myself with singer Mike Peters, and I because still have his autograph pinned to my childhood bedroom wall. The thing is, I don’t remember actually seeing the Alarm back in the day. Did I? My copies of “Declaration” and the debut EP have been gathering dust in my record collection for years now, so tonight when the band stride across the stage (well, only Peters is an original member now, but recruits include ex-members of The Damned and Gen X so they come with a pedigree) I really don’t have many expectations. So, how shocked am I then when they totally nail it from minute one? Yep, I’m shocked.

The Alarm may have a lot less hair than they did 25 years ago, but from classics like “Where Were You Hiding When The Storm Broke” and “Absolute Reality” to newer tracks like “Superchannel” and “45 RPM” (a 2004 single released under the pseudonym The Poppyfields, along with a fake band bio and video to ensure there’d be no ageism to get in the way of the band’s success - it went top 30 in the UK) tonight they’re able to churn out a hand-clapping, foot stomping, playing card-throwing, sing-along set with the kind of energy bands half their age would be lucky to approach. Oh, and did I mention that Peters has just recovered from leukemia? So make that a healthy un-ravaged by leukemia band half their age. I now make the following apology: Alarm, I have underrated you. I had written you off as a band I loved only because you knew Bono’s home phone number, but I was wrong and I apologize. For tonight Alarm, you rock.

It’s fair to say I was never a particularly big fan of The Fixx. I never owned a copy of Shuttered Room nor Reach the Beach, but somewhere in my teenaged cassette collection is “Lost Planes” dubbed off the radio. After sitting through nearly an hour of the band’s current set though, I think it’s OK to tape over that cassette now.

The Fixx are in good physical shape. Singer Cy Curnin’s pumped pectorals look terrific and guitarist Jamie West-Oram’s punk-plaid pants and Blondie T-shirt fit just right. If only that were enough. Although these two still have the bods to be aging-yet-hot on stage, what they seem have lost is the ability to make music anyone is particularly interested in hearing. The badly planned set forced the crowd of 30- and 40-something’s sit through 4 interminably long (new ?) songs before getting around to single “One Thing Leads To Another”, delivered with only intermittent vigor. All hope seemed to be lost as the band noodled their way through a set that seemed to serve only to entertain Curnin’s fantasy of being Brian Ferry, but thank God there was one thing that could save the band’s set – booze. Unscrewing the caps of a series of tiny wine bottles and dispensing them into a small plastic glass, it seemed the more Curnin swilled the better he got. By the time the band wound up their set with a deluge of the songs the now visibly bored audience had been waiting for all along – “Deeper and Deeper”, “Red Skies”, “Saved By Zero” – the band had finally found their groove. Alas a little too late.

Unlike the Fixx, the drink of choice for The Psychedelic Furs is Coke and Red Bull – and it shows. Being the only band tonight who got the memo titled “When on a reunion tour OPEN WITH A FUCKING SINGLE” they bounded onto the stage to the sound of a honking saxophone (remember when everybody had a sax in their new wave band?) and kicked their set into gear with a spirited version of single “Heartbeat”. Maybe it’s the nearly 30 years doing this under their belts, maybe it’s the amount of success they’ve had in the past, but it’s plain from the outset that The Furs are stars, and on stage they never forget that. Singer Richard Butler in his signature loose-fitting but smartly-tailored trousers, shirt, and oddly Lisa-Simpson-esque giant grey pearl necklace bounces, swoops, flails, spins, kicks, and skips his way through the set; grabbing audience members’ hands, sitting on the monitors and stage floor, and doing his trademark crossed-leg crouch while snapping jazzily and refining that stellar David Bowie impersonation he started working on years ago. His croon is as strained and perfect as ever, and the band pull off seemingly endless string of hits from their gigantic catalogue including “Into You Like A Train”, “Heaven”, “Dumb Waiters”, “Until She Comes”, “Love My Way”, “Pretty In Pink”, and “Heartbreak Beat” all without a hitch. By the time that the band arrive at their encore of “Sister Europe” – complete with impressive sax solo - and “President Gas” – a song whose lyrics could have been penned yesterday rather than 25 years ago – the crowd is at last sated.

Now, back to suburbia with the lot of you. And for the bands, a nice nap.

Obscure factoid of the night: Adam and the Ants bassist Gary Tibbs now plays in The Fixx, but sadly he now looks less foxy and more like Phil Collins.