The Tubes/ Burn The Headlines, Young States

It's a cold Friday night and doors open early at the Waterfront, so it is a ridiculously mad dash from work to home to the quack’s to the Waterfront. In recent years, I have been on a mission of sorts to catch the bands that I was too young, blinkered or perhaps just plain stupid to see before. This time, it is The Tubes.

Doors open at 6:30 and, despite the promoter’s exhortations to get to the venue early, the legendary theatrical rockers aren't due on until 8. In the Studio, Young States are headlining a triple header with Blood Like Honey and Burn The Headlines, so, with some time to kill, it is upstairs. Despite having been around for 3 or 4 years now, I’ve not seen Burn The Headlines before. Without wishing to damn with faint praise, I kinda like what the six piece are doing but I am not exactly won over. The opener sounds just like The Mission’s Wasteland (which is a good thing) covered by Rammstein (in my book, less of a good thing) whilst the second song recalls The Real Thing-era Faith No More without the raps. Whatever I think, they are winning over the sparse audience and the performance is growing in confidence when it is time for me to head downstairs to the main room for The Tubes.

Tonight’s line up features four original members, in vocalist Fee Waybill, drummer Prairie Prince, Rick Anderson on bass and guitarist Roger Steen, joined by relative new boy - only in the band for 21 years! - David Medd on keys. On stage at almost exactly 8pm, the five-piece kick off with the mighty instrumental Getoverture before heading in to Telecide. Revelling in the freedom to play for 100 minutes - if not the promised two hours - after a stint of 45 minute sets with Alice Cooper, the band deliver a mostly storming set of classics. There’s Turn Me On, TV Is King, What Do You Want From Life, Monkey Time and Mr Hate - complete with Waybill in straight jacket. Things take a slightly wayward turn with blues of Golden Boy before getting back on track with Waybill, clad in leather strides and leather carnival mask, holding a flashlight like it is a penis pissing golden light over the audience for Mondo Bondage. Then it is a gallop through I Was A Punk Before You Were A Punk, Prime Time, The Beatles’ I Saw Her Standing There and Love’s A Mystery.

Now, in my book, there is no excuse for a drum solo. As entertaining as Prairie Prince is, as talented as he is, this is an absolute no, no, NO! for me. But I can forgive this as it precedes Waybill returning on massive stack heels for the song everyone is here to sing. Yep, it Is the mighty White Punks On Dope, possibly the most classic of all the classics in The Tubes’ set, and then the band leave the stage before returning for the encore of She's A Beauty.

If I am honest, before tonight I was not a huge Tubes fan by any means. Yep, I have White Punks… and Don’t Touch Me There (missing from tonight’s set) on umpteen comps and I’ve got an old best of but no more than that. Tonight, they have absolutely won we over. What lifts The Tubes to a higher level is the questing experimentation of the music. The songs from the band’s commercial phase are superficially lightweight, US FM radio AOR fodder but they always throw in a curveball that takes the song in an unexpected, exciting direction, if only for a few bars. Their sound runs the gamut from funk, disco, garage, protopunk and rock-opera, equal parts The Who of Quadrophenia/Tommy, Sonics, New York Dolls and Chic with a dash of The Beatles and Kinks. Despite having been around for 45 years, the band play with an apparent pleasure and joy that is wholly refreshing. Add in the theatricality and this is an absolute winner of a show. No, it is not perfect. Fee’s voice isn’t what it once was. There’s the drum solo - which, to be fair, most of the audience seemed to appreciate far more than I did! - and a song or too that missed the mark. That aside, this has been one of the best shows I have witnessed in nigh on twenty years of going to the Waterfront.