Let It Stay Forever Now: The Psychedelic Furs & Happy Mondays

| Print Post This | Like (0) | Comments (1)

I WOULD LIKE to idealize my past. Unfortunately, I can't remember much of it. Sure, the bitter bits remain as clear as Caribbean water, but too much of the good stuff — time spent with friends, playing sports, traveling — has been swept into the dustbin of my brain.

That's why on Tuesday at 9:30 Club it felt like I was seeing The Psychedelic Furs for the very first time, even though I've seen the 32-year-old New Wave group at least once, maybe twice. (Even my friends are struggling to remember when and where we convened to hear "Pretty in Pink" and "President Gas" in 1980s Michigan.)

Like so many '80s groups these days, the Furs aren't touring to promote a new record; they're touring because it's their job, because people will still pay to hear a good version of "Heaven" sung live, just like they remember it — and maybe then forgot it — the first time.

Plus, when you still look and sound as good as Richard Butler, 53, there's no reason to get off the stage. He's still rail thin and handsome, and his rough but regal voice still sounds like a slightly overmodulated tenor sax singing songs in some ashtray-stained pub. And so what if the only other original Furs member is his bassist brother Tim Butler? The heartbreak beat of the group will always be Richard's aching pipes.

For 16 songs and 80 minutes, the Furs gave the middle-aged audience's memories a nice rub. From opener "Love My Way" to the closer "Forever Now," the pantomiming and dancing Butler sang lyrics that many an old New Waver had internalized for that half of his or her lifetime. "Pretty in Pink" received the biggest pop from the crowd, with "The Ghost in You" a close second. But the Furs sandwiched some of their more edgy tunes between the favorites, including "In My Head" and "All of This and Nothing," showing that one of the New Wave's biggest pop bands also had a dark and difficult side that was equally artistic.

It would have better if modern opening act Islands — who played in front of few people, impressed even fewer, and generally sounded off all night — were left off the bill entirely. Islands actually is a decent group, but they just didn't fit the old-timers' vibe. Plus, Islands' absence would have meant the Furs' set could be longer, allowing them to play songs they've apparently played elsewhere on the tour — including "Heartbreak Beat" — and dive into some lesser known album tracks and singles such as "Into You Like a Train" and "Run and Run" as well as quality later tunes such as "All That Money Wants" and "Should God Forget."

It would also have allowed middle act and Madchester kings Happy Mondays to play longer, though I'm not sure vocalist Shaun Ryder could have handled it. Not because the former (?) drug-addled goofball is such a big load these days and doesn't have the stamina — though, he likely doesn't have the stamina — but because he had some dental issues last night. "One of me implants fell out me tooth," Ryder announced after "Jelly Bean."

But chicklet issues couldn't be the only reason Ryder hung back behind the female singer and left his vocals buried in the mix during much of the 10-song, 40-minute set. It really seemed like Shaun had just woken up; you couldn't see the eyes behind his shades, but his general slack demeanor was that of a man who was helped out of the bus bunk just before showtime and then propped up on stage.

None of that is to say, however, that the Mondays' hired-gun musicians didn't kick out the jams. (Sadly, there was no Bez there to fire up the dancers, either; not sure where he was, but he's had visa issues in the past.)

The Happy Mondays are the great phenomenon to come out of the Madchester era of drugs, dance and rock. The band didn't make the best album — hello, Stone Roses' all-timer debut — but the Mondays made the most sense for that era of hype and hopelessness, possibilities and excess. The group members' working-class backgrounds scraped up against the glitz of pop stardom, making for an uncomfortable marriage between the middle class and yobs, raves and pub culture, ecstasy and cheap wine. Mushmouth Ryder was the lead thug, sounding like The Falls' Mark E. Smith if he was less wordy and more illiterate — but maybe, just maybe, equally as smart.

Happy Mondays made funk played by punks, rock music you could dance to, house music you could rock — and their catalog of out of control party poppers is deep. So, as great as it was to hear "Kinky Afro," "Hallelujah" and "Step On" performed live, the show could have stretched another half hour with baggy gems like "24 Hour Party People," "Wrote for Luck" and "Lazyitis."

The fantastic movie "24 Hour Party People" captured the essence of Happy Mondays' idiot savantry perfectly, though this rooftop scene sums up Shaun and his brother Paul (the Mondays' former bassist) most succinctly:

No pigeons were killed during Tuesday night's show — at least none that I remember — but old ravers and forgetful New Wavers got to step into their glory days once again.

Photos courtesy the bands