Just over forty years ago Matt Johnson burst onto the scene, serving up a richly ambiguous slice of sound like no other. With time comes fresh ideas, and The The’s latest album paints a fascinating journey to Ensoulment. Collating the old the new, their recent show at Manchester’s Apollo was one of a fine calibre. Alice Beard walks you through the evening.
Offering up some much-needed sanctuary from the sullen September evening, by eight the Apollo was brimming. Everything was all set up for darkness and mystique, and it wasn’t long before the gloom was unfurled. As tender hues lifted the stage from the shadows, Johnson laid out the bill very plainly. The first half was dressed modestly as the ‘listening set’, whilst the second half the ‘dancing set’.
I don’t think there’s any way to properly pin down Johnson’s music. From the very beginning he has proven a master at sneaking between his various sultry fantasy worlds- resulting in a lavishly packed discography of unmatched quality. In this regard, it was only right that the band should put on such an in-depth showcase. It was already heating up to be an evening full of promise, and as the band slunk into action, they made sure to showcase the very best of their elements.
Album opener, and of course the first track of the evening Cognitive Dissident, is an instant classic. Self- assured in nature, it’s a piece of an equally alluring and sinister nature. With the progression into the following Some Days I Drink My Coffee by the Grave of William Blake, it’s clear that all of the Johnson trademarks are still here- a revelation I’m sure will be a relief to many.
I must be honest when I say I found the recent album to be more of a grower than an instant classic. It undeniably has its merits, but admittedly I found it to veer into the territories of laborious listening at points. As it swims through mostly continual mid- tempo murkiness, it struggled to grab my full attention for the first few listens. Seeing the album in full live, I hoped my thoughts would be altered and I think I can safely say now that the band have me successfully converted.
Tracks such as Risin' Above the Need and Where Do We Go When We Die? proved unfaltering in their ability to coax you into The The’s enticing underworld. Even now Johnson knows what he’s doing, his showmanship as assertive and boldly unafraid as ever. Lyrically he is a man, in my eyes, who has never faltered. His often gaudy displays of songwriting offer peculiar windows into his mind- these personal incisions offering a welcomed rawness into a sometimes-banal musical landscape. Live, this impression is only amplified. Adding some silky-smooth edge to his spoken word in the likes of Life After Life, I couldn’t help but feel I could probably fall asleep to his voice. Maybe he should take a leap into the business of audiobook narration if this music thing goes sour.
"His often gaudy displays of songwriting offer peculiar windows into his mind"
Even the musicianship alone was standout. Blending their kaleidoscopic range of musical influences and performing in such a way that left the audience hanging on to their every snappy guitar riff or dreamy bass hook, the band proved magnificent from all sides. As opening sets go this was a hearty one indeed. When it came time for the band’s brief hiatus from the stage, few dared to stir from their spot on the floor. We were all hungry for more.
One swift break later and the room was ready to devour the classic collection. Serving up something especially juicy and tender, the band hurtled right into 1986 heavy hitter Infected. What a treat. This drastic surge in energy brought new life to the crowd, a welcomed lightness continuing as the band slew their way into The Sinking Feeling and Heartland. Weaving new dynamics of complexity into the live setting, these tracks brought together Johnson’s ability to weave his natural wit and charm into vicious but oh so necessary assaults on political powers. ‘I’m just a symptom of the moral decay that’s gnawing at the heart of the country’- Johnson’s mockery of the state of Thatcher’s government merely scraping at the surface of his distaste. These full-charged anthems still hold just as much vigour and intensity today, a testament to Johnson’s masterful craftmanship.
Always knowing when to take a step back and allow for some time to breathe, the addition of tracks like TheWhisperers into the set added a well formulated balance and cohesion. The The do subtlety and ‘in yer face’ just as well as each other. It's a fine art.
The opening jangles of Slow Emotion Replay seemed to truly set the audience into action, a dance of years of devotion and admiration playing out. This Is The Day likewise brought swells through the crowd, its warmth raining down optimism. This beacon of hope felt a perfect distraction from the bitterness and unease contained in other parts of the set. This is a song that will never get old. It’s the beating heart of the band, a track which could never be done wrong.
Just when I thought the night couldn’t be raised to any greater heights, I heard the discordant muffles of the introduction to Sweet Bird of Truth- one of my long-time favourites. It’s quite a naughty juggernaut track, the thick percussion and writhing melodic hums provided leading the crowd through the depths of The The’s world. It was one of many fine moments to witness.
As the end drew nigh, we were treated to Lonely Planet, followed by a short but slightly agonising encore. Any pain was very much worth it though I assure you. As the opening chimes of Uncertain Smile’s riff tiptoed in, the room took a collective breath in preparation for a masterclass in musical storytelling. This was the first The The track I was ever exposed to, and it’s hardly surprising I haven't stopped listening ever since. There is something unbeatable about this piece. From the simple, yet captivating guitar playing to its saccharine lyrical charms, each of its embellishments are dazzling. Of course, it goes without saying the piano playing in this track is nothing short of beautiful- DC Collard managed to excel himself on keys here. This foot- stomping romp managed to prove just as good live as in the 1983 original. Disgustingly good actually.
Closing the night off would require something truly magical after that display, so it was a good job the band still had Giant up their sleeve. This mammoth nine-minute track is another one of my favourites, and for very good reason. It blends snarky funk-infused rhythms with slick synth lines into a thing of pure bliss until the close. The angst in Johnson’s vocal delivery was no match for the triumphant musical workout playing out, the entire room practically spinning in ecstasy. This track managed to summarise the entire show all in one, encapsulating many moments full of spirit and vigour, whilst remaining equally frenzied and hard to digest all the same.
Despite my uncertainty towards The The’s latest material, the band managed to prove themselves unvanquished in their ability to perform here. With pure precision and flair, they managed to once again establish their place amongst the giants. I couldn’t have asked for a greater display.
Alice Beard
Edited by Alice Beard
Images courtesy of Nurse Ratched Photography, video courtesy of The The on Youtube
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