Midge Ure
Theatre Royal
Around about the time the seventies flipped over into the eighties there was an extraordinary musical explosion that, in hindsight, punk was only the start of. In its wake was all manner of stuff going on that perhaps only now can we appreciate for its quirkiness and originality. Much of it felt ephemeral even then, while the best of it seemed of the moment – the idea that we’d be still listening to that music forty years later, let alone listening to the performers, would surely have felt fantastical at the time. Yet many at the vanguard of music during those times have not only obstinately hung around, they have enjoyed something of a renaissance. Magazine, Blancmange, Heaven 17, OMD and The Human League are all acts I’ve ticked off the bucket list in recent years, having waited more years than I’d care to admit to.
The greatest prize of all, however, has sadly remained out of reach, not least as Ultravox haven’t been extant for a while now. An evening in the company of Midge Ure was therefore not only a cause for celebration - it was the closest I was likely to get to scratching an itch. Ure had already been to the Theatre Royal, two long years ago, performing the game-changing Vienna in its entirety. I was listening to the likes of Dr Feelgood, The Damned and Motorhead when introduced to the album back in the day, and it spun my idea of music on its axis. Although it will forever be the seminal album of those times, the follow up was arguably even stronger. Recorded over three months in Connie Plank’s studio in Germany, Rage in Eden felt like the work of a band that had settled in and was at ease with itself. Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that Ure found the urge to tour the music from it, and Quartet, the album that followed.
Before Ure took to the stage with his band Electronica, however, we were offered up a brief support set from the India Electric Company. I was convinced I’d seen them last time Ure was in Norwich (it was actually Rusty Egan) and so spent much of the set scratching my head at their familiarity. All of them proved to be excellent musicians, and while they only had time for a handful of songs, they certainly made their mark. When start and end times are fixed, simple maths dictates that the longer they are on, the less of Midge you’re going to get, so it was pleasing to see how well they were received by an audience that might have wanted shot of them. I was particularly taken with Parachutes and Statues, though the highlight was arguably a stripped down version of Bruce Springsteen’s I’m on Fire.
After the break, Ure returned with a backing band that looked suspiciously familiar. Electronica turns out to be the India Electric Company wearing their Sunday best. No wonder they sounded so good. This time, however, they were fronted by the man himself. The thin moustache, pointy sideburns (and most of his hair, to be frank) may have gone, but the voice remained astonishingly intact, as he belted out Dear God and If I was from his solo career. It was all we got from those times, however, with the remainder of the evening devoted to – and it did, after all, say this on the tin – Voice and Visions. After a throwback to the seventies with Visage’s Fade to Grey (blimey, he did that as well, didn’t he) that got a handful of people up off their seats, we settled in to a retrospective of work that is sometimes overlooked, given the long shadow that Vienna casts.
For the net 90 mins we flitted back and forth between the best of Quartet and pretty much the whole of Rage in Eden, and all delivered with gusto and great musicality. Based on my score card, he only left out Accent on Youth, which was a pity, but he nonetheless delivered a superb version of my personal favourite – Your Name – so swings and roundabouts. Ure seemed to be having the finest of times, grinning away like a hyena at the response from the crowd. I lost count how many times he thanked us all for turning up – thanks I would say was reciprocated in spades given the euphoric reception he got. Towards the end, when the axis tilted towards Quartet, I thought the evening entered a brief fallow period (the album was never a favourite of mine) but horses for courses and all that. You have to admire his resolve in offering up songs we haven’t heard for years, instead of simply churning out the favourites.
That said, you couldn’t really go home without hearing Vienna, could you? It was duly delivered in the encore, with Joseph O’Keefe’s violin – it should be said - the equal of Billie Currie’s. Even then, he cheekily sandwiched it between the instrumental Astradyne and the rabble rousing All Stood Still, a song that ironically finally got the whole crowd on their feet and moving.
