PSB BBC DVD
Posted: Sat 30 Oct 2010, 12:52 am
I picked up the new DVD today and have to say that it's a must-have for even the most jaded fan. In reality, it's two DVDs in one as the Glastonbury show could really have merited its own release. The BBC performances are much more than two men with a keyboard looking grumpy, bored, and occasionally earnest, whilst standing still. They comprise a fascinating and thought-provoking archive of the development of the dynamic duo.
After the shock of hitting number one with West End Girls, the awkwardness of Neil is perfectly captured in the Love Comes Quickly Top of the Pops segment. It's as if pop stardom has taken him completely by surprise. He wears the slightly disturbed and quietly startled expression of a deep-thinking rabbit caught in the oncoming headlights of a particularly heavy articulated truck. Chris, meanwhile, is all action behind the keyboard, at one point enthusiastically humping the machinery in an obscene fashion. As each performance passes, Neil becomes progressively more animated in inverse proportion to Chris, who is stock still by Rent.
The PopArt Videos DVD showcased the stylised progression of the band and allowed us to reminisce at how they had changed over the years, but these "live" performances are even more interesting in that you can see how quickly they become confident and how format changes on Top of the Pops soon undermine them. That show undergoes its own form of development on this disc, and this is highlighted in the move from lip-synching to live vocal performance, from naff on-screen graphics to, well, even more naff on-screen graphics, and from audiences dancing in the background to full-on performance participation.
Neil is imperial by It's A Sin, relaxed in tweed during Rent, and utterly cool and detached for the legendary Always On My Mind appearance. Chris wears his Posh Boy beanie in opposition to Neil's folded-arms-in-a-suit routine which seems all the more utterly superior in the context of their deadpan deconstruction of the overly emotive original. But by the iconic Can You Forgive Her? performance, Neil has to deliver a live vocal – which works surprisingly well as it contributes to a suitably alarmed facial expression as he sits in his dunce's hat looking put-upon. Chris, meanwhile, dances hilariously with space babes and looks cooler than ice.
After the imperial phase, Domino Dancing looks a little thrown together. Musicians appear for the first time on stage, and Chris sports short pants. He looks like he's about to burgle your house in Left To My Own Devices, and resembles the world's coolest dinghy in So Hard. Neil is an iceberg, all angular shoulders, severe haircut, and dark suit. Together, it's striking, which makes his librarian-turned-detective in Being Boring all the more hilarious. That's more than can be said for the pastry chef convention that is Liberation, but in combination with the sheer effrontery of Can You Forgive Her?, and the ludicrous cool of I Don't Know What You Want, one can't help but admire and marvel at their ambition to present themselves as a little more substantial than, say, Shed Seven.
The bizarre eclecticism of the three Nightlife singles highlights their unparalleled diversity, and their I don't know what you want but I can't give it any more look seems shocking even now in comparison to what went before. This performance is one of the standouts on the disc, showcasing their ability to look as out of place in 1999 as their music sounded. New York City Boy manages to ruin the effect somewhat, contriving to look more uncomfortably gay than William Hague in a shared hotel room, but Drunk presents them with guitars performing a synthesized country-and-western number in frightwigs and Herry Monster eyebrows. As familiar as we all are with these songs, it’s impossible not to gawp at the fantastic weirdness on display.
After the muso-period Release singles, replete with Janet Street-Porter on percussion, Miracles and Flamboyant highlight Chris's misguided flirtation with blonde hair and the polish of their now common live performances. Chris even flashes a grin at Neil during the latter, which is another of the standout clips. There is no awkwardness now, just an easy assuredness.
The BBC's ludicrous political impartiality rules help to ruin I'm With Stupid, but can't spoil what is a fantastic trawl through the archives.
The Glastonbury performance is also worth having, if only to see 40,000 people in the palm of Tennant's regal hand. Picture quality is excellent throughout and the menu is ergonomic and easy-to-use. The DVD is packaged in a gatefold sleeve on the opposite side to the CD. A flimsy booklet adds little value, but the DVD makes the set essential. All in all, a tremendous record of pop genius.
Happily, it's reassuring to see that they're still capable of hitting the heights. The Ultimate CD may exclude their most edgy and subversive singles (Rent, So Hard, Can You Forgive Her?), but at least it includes a first cousin in Together, which to my ears is effortlessly superior to most of Yes. This is dripping in mystery and intrigue and dresses up dysfunctional love in earnest sincerity. What is ostensibly an overwrought emotional grotesquery is soon revealed as a creepy paean to mutual destruction. It's fiendishly clever, deeply sad, yet gloriously triumphant. The secondary vocal is brilliantly hooky, the blissful interlude is malevolently calm, and the outro is stellar, a dance of death that's simultaneously poignant and valedictorian. I'm glad it’s upset much of the fanbase. Most of their stuff should be going over the heads of most people.
Drico.
After the shock of hitting number one with West End Girls, the awkwardness of Neil is perfectly captured in the Love Comes Quickly Top of the Pops segment. It's as if pop stardom has taken him completely by surprise. He wears the slightly disturbed and quietly startled expression of a deep-thinking rabbit caught in the oncoming headlights of a particularly heavy articulated truck. Chris, meanwhile, is all action behind the keyboard, at one point enthusiastically humping the machinery in an obscene fashion. As each performance passes, Neil becomes progressively more animated in inverse proportion to Chris, who is stock still by Rent.
The PopArt Videos DVD showcased the stylised progression of the band and allowed us to reminisce at how they had changed over the years, but these "live" performances are even more interesting in that you can see how quickly they become confident and how format changes on Top of the Pops soon undermine them. That show undergoes its own form of development on this disc, and this is highlighted in the move from lip-synching to live vocal performance, from naff on-screen graphics to, well, even more naff on-screen graphics, and from audiences dancing in the background to full-on performance participation.
Neil is imperial by It's A Sin, relaxed in tweed during Rent, and utterly cool and detached for the legendary Always On My Mind appearance. Chris wears his Posh Boy beanie in opposition to Neil's folded-arms-in-a-suit routine which seems all the more utterly superior in the context of their deadpan deconstruction of the overly emotive original. But by the iconic Can You Forgive Her? performance, Neil has to deliver a live vocal – which works surprisingly well as it contributes to a suitably alarmed facial expression as he sits in his dunce's hat looking put-upon. Chris, meanwhile, dances hilariously with space babes and looks cooler than ice.
After the imperial phase, Domino Dancing looks a little thrown together. Musicians appear for the first time on stage, and Chris sports short pants. He looks like he's about to burgle your house in Left To My Own Devices, and resembles the world's coolest dinghy in So Hard. Neil is an iceberg, all angular shoulders, severe haircut, and dark suit. Together, it's striking, which makes his librarian-turned-detective in Being Boring all the more hilarious. That's more than can be said for the pastry chef convention that is Liberation, but in combination with the sheer effrontery of Can You Forgive Her?, and the ludicrous cool of I Don't Know What You Want, one can't help but admire and marvel at their ambition to present themselves as a little more substantial than, say, Shed Seven.
The bizarre eclecticism of the three Nightlife singles highlights their unparalleled diversity, and their I don't know what you want but I can't give it any more look seems shocking even now in comparison to what went before. This performance is one of the standouts on the disc, showcasing their ability to look as out of place in 1999 as their music sounded. New York City Boy manages to ruin the effect somewhat, contriving to look more uncomfortably gay than William Hague in a shared hotel room, but Drunk presents them with guitars performing a synthesized country-and-western number in frightwigs and Herry Monster eyebrows. As familiar as we all are with these songs, it’s impossible not to gawp at the fantastic weirdness on display.
After the muso-period Release singles, replete with Janet Street-Porter on percussion, Miracles and Flamboyant highlight Chris's misguided flirtation with blonde hair and the polish of their now common live performances. Chris even flashes a grin at Neil during the latter, which is another of the standout clips. There is no awkwardness now, just an easy assuredness.
The BBC's ludicrous political impartiality rules help to ruin I'm With Stupid, but can't spoil what is a fantastic trawl through the archives.
The Glastonbury performance is also worth having, if only to see 40,000 people in the palm of Tennant's regal hand. Picture quality is excellent throughout and the menu is ergonomic and easy-to-use. The DVD is packaged in a gatefold sleeve on the opposite side to the CD. A flimsy booklet adds little value, but the DVD makes the set essential. All in all, a tremendous record of pop genius.
Happily, it's reassuring to see that they're still capable of hitting the heights. The Ultimate CD may exclude their most edgy and subversive singles (Rent, So Hard, Can You Forgive Her?), but at least it includes a first cousin in Together, which to my ears is effortlessly superior to most of Yes. This is dripping in mystery and intrigue and dresses up dysfunctional love in earnest sincerity. What is ostensibly an overwrought emotional grotesquery is soon revealed as a creepy paean to mutual destruction. It's fiendishly clever, deeply sad, yet gloriously triumphant. The secondary vocal is brilliantly hooky, the blissful interlude is malevolently calm, and the outro is stellar, a dance of death that's simultaneously poignant and valedictorian. I'm glad it’s upset much of the fanbase. Most of their stuff should be going over the heads of most people.
Drico.
