Live music is a wild and unpredictable beast. Since our show began a year ago we have skipped the light fandango and travelled to all sorts of destinations, and a wide variety of different eras, via our Live On Arrival feature. The thinking was that – in the absence of live sessions on the show – we should make an effort to highlight the truly legendary performances that great artists the world over have to offer and also to unleash some lesser-known gems from the vaults. And in the large part it has been quite the journey. From Kristofferson in Austin to Michael Marra in Dundee, Guided By Voices going electric to Lisa Hannigan stripping down (acoustically, naturally), and Big Star reuniting to The Band enjoying a Last Waltz, there has undoubtedly been much to celebrate.
But there have also been some more challenging episodes: Jeff Buckley’s near-10 minute version of Hallelujah Live À L'Olympia is so hushed in places I wondered if we’d be shot on site by the Radio Police for encouraging the dreaded dead air, and Randy Newman live at the Bitter End, New York is of questionable audio quality but worthy in that it captured him in 1970 – at the very infancy of what was to become a distinguished career. And it is this aura of uncertainty and irregularity when trading in gigs that draws us to live music in the first place. No matter whether you hear it in a grungy room permeated with stale body odour and blokes called “Z” (who just happen to carry sharpies on them at all times), or a plush concert hall with comfortable seats and a nice half-time interval to stretch your legs and enjoy an Orangina, if the artist or band delivers then you will be scraping yourself off the ceiling for weeks. If, of course, it’s possible to scrape yourself off the ceiling in the first place (some help and a shovel may be required). My own once-in-a-lifetime gig was Arcade Fire at the Glasgow Barrowlands circa Black Mirror, which was so incendiary I’m pretty sure new clothes were required at the end of the evening.
What got me thinking about all this, you may ask? Well, quite simply our Live On Arrival pick for this week – The Clash, Live in 1982. Recorded whilst on tour supporting The Who (coincidentally featured last week Live at Leeds), the original recordings were unearthed by Clash frontman Joe Strummer whilst packing for a move and eventually released in 2008. What they offer is a visceral and thrilling document of a band firing on all cylinders, delivering big song after big song to a huge audience (a long way from the spit and sawdust clubs in which the band began honing its skills). And yet what’s strange is that the venue was New York’s Shea Stadium – perhaps most famous for being the place that The Beatles tried so desperately in vain to be heard over the banshee wails and nerve jangling screams of their adoring fans. So disheartened were they by the inadequacies of their tiny PA system that night, so tired had they grown of the unpredictability of the live arena, that John, Paul, George and Ringo played only three more shows on that 1966 tour before packing in the live game altogether to concentrate on their studio work. And it’s something of a shame – for what we gained in boundary pushing records, we lost in honest and upfront live testimony from one of the world’s greatest bands.
Still, we all know – as The Beatles proved – that live music is a very different beast from studio albums, and we should rejoice in that. Rough around the edges it may be at times, soaked in feedback and requiring earplugs for even the most hardened of lugs, it is never boring. In fact, by its very ephemeral nature, when done correctly and the moment strikes – be it a rousing solo, an unexpected sing-along, or simply a favourite song performed seemingly just for you, drowning in a sea of people – it can remind us that we’re alive.
