The Moody Blues (2000)
I don't want to wake up now
There's a dichotomy between our culture's preoccupation with youth and beauty and the lasting popularity of pop stars from the 1960s and 70s. It's incongruous to watch a pot-bellied, jowled man pointing his guitar neck at the audience and doing a one-foot shuffle. Recalling that the Rolling Stones' manager was someone who was 'too ugly to be a Rolling Stone' (which beggars the imagination) on the one hand, and tomodachi deriding Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry as 'Grandpa Joe' on the other.
Late 60s-early 70's icon The Moody Blues got together in 2000 at the Royal Albert Hall with the backing of the World Festival Orchestra and completely wowed the crowd, many of whom were clearly too young to remember them in their heyday - and a number who weren't. Video producers Miles Copeland and Lionel Schaen evidently felt the incongruity of the aging rockers and spent a good deal of time focusing on the backup singers and more attractive members of the orchestra and audience. One other who seemed to feel the incongruity was flautist Ray Thomas, who looked as if he felt more the part of a grandpa himself, perhaps chaperoning a young granddaughter at her first rock concert, and even hitched up his pants on camera at one point. (But I'm honestly not old enough to have seen The Moody Blues in their heyday and so can't swear he wasn't always that stiff on-stage.)
His demeanor was clearly belied by that of drummer Graeme Edge, unapologetically Santa Claus-ish with white hair and beard and a beer belly not hidden under his silk jumper, whose joy in performing was evident from the moment the directors finally let him appear in the video.
Beauty I'd always missed / with these eyes before
As for the performance, incongruously brilliant. Lead singer and guitarist Justin Hayward has learned to compensate for the 30 years' toll on his vocal range, while his knuckles are anything but arthritic. Ditto for lead singer and bassist John Lodge, who deals in his own way with a loss of sostenuto over the years. The band wisely employs back-up singers Susan Shattock and Tracy Graham, who not only provide some of the requisite eye candy but also fill in the top range.
The concert started out with a wonderful orchestration of Nights in White Satin, Tuesday Afternoon and Lenged of a Mind, which unfortunately ran a bit long and tame. When Hayward finally takes the stage he evidently feels the need to pick up the pace and immediately does so by smoking through the group's 1968 hit Tuesday Afternoon.
For the most part, the band continued this tradition, balancing ballads with rockers. While English Sunset is followed up with Words You Say, it's worth listening to Lodge's bass as he sings. Compare that sound with Jaco Pastorius' on, for example, Teen Town.
Wished I could be in your heart
For me the sleeper star of this performance is Isn't Life Strange, a huge arrangement here by conductor Larry Baird which must stand on its own alongside the original. The only shortcoming is Hayward's seeming impatience to get on with it, which is an interesting contrast to Lodge's obvious relish in delivering a crowning performance.
And if you want the wind of change / To blow about you ... don't tell me / I'm just a singer in a rock and roll band
Hot on the heels, the song everyone came to hear - I'm Just a Singer (in a Rock and Roll Band) - is the biggest disappointment of the set. This one piece points out more than any other that the band simply doesn't have the sheer vocal presence that swept them to fame in the late 1960s. With a full orchestra backing, there was plenty of horn to pop it up, but I wanted even more. Hayward salvaged it with a very nice guitar solo, then quickly struck back with anthem Nights in White Satin, proving just how much he's still got (as well as how well he's learned to compensate for what he's lost to the years).
In Legend of a Mind, Ray Thomas finally got to his feet without the tambourine, forgot his stiff-legged shuffle and demonstrated that he hasn't lost a thing. Perhaps because he's in his natural voice to start with rather than falsetto. This is the one song where his flute playing is also brought to the fore, as it's too muted elsewhere and tends to hide among the strings.
There's a burning bush in Asia
Why do we still like the classics? Is it because they were at the right place at the right time, at the birth of a new art form? Or is it simply because they were good? I can't see myself harking back to the sounds of Tupac and Eminem when I'm 60 (coming up a lot sooner than I like to admit to myself) - but maybe that's just me already showing my age. I do know there are orchestrations today that are every bit as musical and intricate as those of The Moody Blues, even if they don't employ actual orchestras. But somehow, it all comes together now pretty much as it did more than 30 years ago - the anti-war lyrics that are so intelligent, the guitar jams, and the great melody and harmonisation.
Whichever, Ride my see-saw / Take my place / Have my seat / It's for free.
Listened on:
27 July 2006
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