After a week where I did two live reviews (the Afghan Whigs in London and Mark Lanegan in Wolverhampton), I’m reminded just how much a pain it is to review live shows. Records are easy by comparison, because they can be written about while comfortably experiencing them and trying to locate the feel of something, and if you don’t quite grasp it the first time, then you can go back and re-examine certain hooks and tracks. Live, it’s a one-hit affair where feel is absolutely everything that makes that show what it is, and sometimes it’s a race to get home afterwards to capture that before it dissipates and all that you’re left with to type about is a setlist and a recollection of whether the venue’s sound was good or not. It also doesn’t help when my short-term memory frazzles sometimes. This last sentence also acting as a subtle way of apologising to my friend Alison for a certain non-remembering of a thing last week.
The 70-mile drive back home from Wolverhampton on Wednesday did mean that my initial review of that gig was fuzzy and perfunctory, especially compared to (and perhaps also because of) the Whigs show a few days earlier where I have to admit to still buzzing about a week later. Thankfully, a couple of things came back to me later on and a post that had been bugging me for a couple of days for being crap has been altered, amended and added to so now it’s crap and longer, albeit hopefully a bit more representative of the uniqueness of that evening.
Not to worry though, as the first version was (strangely, given the subject’s historically decent read figures) so barely read that nobody would have noticed all the extra words anyway. Ah well, it cheered me up anyway.