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But
it's easy to see why the Comsat's are perpetual outsiders,
bearing impressively rich gifts but never being admitted
to the party (gatecrash, lads - that's the message!).
Their
music is too startling and moody to blend in with
the bland background of
commercial formula soundtracks - you can still
easily detect the marvelous constituent elements that
dovetail so precisely and invigoratingly, so that
a perplexing abundance of enticing moods and movements
can dazzle ears used to the aural equivalent of sludge.
But
the audience warmth - with shrieking greeting calls
of "Sheffieeeeld" punctuating a buzz of
excitement - is based more on a sense of belonging
as the band display their non-fashion (by as opposed
to anti-fashion) stance and striking musical layer-cake.
So
it never really seems to matter that The Comsat Angels
just don't have enough glamour - even when the addition
of another guitarist for live work has given them
exactly the same line-up as Duran Duran, they
still seem a touch ordinary (“the dustbin men of rock”
resident sociologist Dave McCulloch once called them),
looking more like the New Wave Dave Clark Five
or post - modernist reformation of The Animals
- with a vocalist Steve Fellows , relieved
of his guitaring chores, a dead ringer for a rejuvenated
Eric Burdon.
The
new songs (long awaited 4th LP due soon!) – apart
from the too rocky Alicia, which the band later
assured me I’ll grow to love – are refinements of
previous innovations rather than new trail-blazing
paths, but Mr Memory and Nature Trails
were particularly enticing and enjoyably catchy.
They haven’t surrendered to the temptation
of three-minute ditties with ludicrous nursery-rhyme
choruses but have edged warily towards a sharper,
cleaner sound which slices rather than slashes.
Dotted
round like holiday snapshots were old gems like
Independence Day and Eye Of The Lens as
the level of performance gradually soared with a matchless
fluidity and confirmed that the enforced rest hasn’t
seized up their wings.
The
Angels are flying again, and this time, heaven can’t
wait.
Johnny
Waller
Sounds
3/9/83
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