The Specials

Considering The Specials put on one of my favourite shows of 2014, I found myself feeling slightly negative about the evening ahead as I made my way up to the LCR. Why? Rubbish weather and a cold didn’t help, and the prospect of an average support band hadn’t exactly fired me up. I am very happy then to report that the support act were actually thoroughly enjoyable. George Michael urged us to listen without prejudice, but I’m afraid I’d had General Roots down as (mostly) white boys from London playing reggae and hadn’t expected much. Actually though they did their job perfectly, warming up the crowd nicely with 30 minutes of credible reggae. Vibesman The Minister (not, I suspect, his real name) provided a nice foil for the smoother vocals of frontman Freddie and by the end everyone’s heads were nodding along.

The Specials mean a great deal to a great many people. From an age when being a multi-racial band was seen as ground breaking they succeeded in mixing politics and acerbic lyrics with Jamaican music and delivered their message whilst making it impossible not to dance. Coming on stage to rapturous applause the show began with Ghost Town, still one of the most dramatic and otherworldly songs to ever top the charts, and an incredible opener. They immediately upped the pace with Do Nothing and that was it – we were all completely sold. There was a fantastic atmosphere, a surprisingly lively mosh pit, beaming faces everywhere and hopelessly out of tune singing along – or was that just me? For a band with such a slender back catalogue (only two albums effectively) and nearly a third of the set consisting of covers it had no right to be this good. When they last played Norwich it was the opening night of that tour and Ocean Colour Scene guitarist Steve Craddock was playing his first show, and it didn’t seem the most natural fit. Two years on and Steve’s playing was brilliant, he’s completely found his way inside the music and been able to add his own stamp to it. Linval Golding, ever dapper, ensured that Neville Staple wasn’t missed and Horace Panter is about as cool as any human being can possibly be, as well as being a great bassist. At the front of course was arch grouch Terry Hall – Terry doesn’t smile. We don’t want Terry to smile. We want him to sing perfectly, drop in some dry wind up humour ("great to be back in Suffolk!") and exude effortless nonchalance. He did not disappoint.