The Stone Roses in HK - 24/7/2012 - concert review by Nick the Bookman

("Sometimes I fantasise..." The Stone Roses)

I'm sure you've all heard of this three-volume bawdy, brutal bonkbuster called "Fifty Shades of Grey". All about a billionaire and his submissive mistress and the fun they get up to. It seems that something similar has been taking place on Lamma recently. Sexcapades and shenanigans, partly impinging on my life. So I thought, I'd use the above quote for a chance to try something fictional. See if I have any flair for writing in a fictive manner. Dip my wick in this smutty cesspool, so to speak.

The first fateful face to face of our appalling antagonists, AKA The Cocky Cuckolder and The Toxic Trollop, might have gone something like this...

He: "You have a grizzled fading beauty and lips that look like you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. Who are you and why this torrent of tears?"

She: (buckets of boo hoo hoo) "You are too kind, you silver-tongued devil. In truth, I am an addled drug slut whose venal excesses and willful misbehaviours have left me homeless and alone. I now depend on the kindness of strangers for succour and sustenance". (squalls of sobs).

He: "Weep no more, dusky diva. I am no sinless virgin. Indeed I am a Big Swinging Dick who manipulates pension funds for profit". (gleeful cackles).
"I crave danger and exotic erotica. Let us sally forth to my face, er, place. We can dance the spunky gobble and perform the squats on cocks in tandem until our deranged hoots and howls of passion-pain split the crack of dawn asunder. (babbly bollock-speak to fade out).

And so commenced the chemical couplings. The fetid fuckfests. The rancid rootings. The sordid shag-fests. Unparalleled bouts of smoking, snorting and swallowing. All done with complete contempt for Rule One: Don't Shit In Your Own Nest And Try Not To Get The Neighbours Bothered.

But, like the vengeful Greek myths of yore, Nemesis is nigh. Waiting in the wings to exact a terrible retribution... That's it, so far. All I've got.

What do you think? I'm thinking that I prefer to stay in my chosen métier of mostly music-based ranting and raving reviews. And so, with one final sexual segue, it's on to the Stone Roses Live in Hong Kong 24/7/2012.

Have you heard what the hurricane said to the palm tree? Hang on to your nuts, boy. This ain't no ordinary blowjob. The hurricane, or more correctly, Typhoon Vicente, was threatening a major case of concertus interruptus when it blew past, by and over Hong Kong some 24 hours before the Stone Roses were due to take the stage at the AsiaWorld Arena. I think there were about 100 Lamma residents with tickets and everyone was panicking. Some wise oldtimers were convinced that there was no sweat. Everything would blow over in by lunchtime of the 24th and it would be business as usual.

Anyway, signals 8, 9 and 10 were raised - the last one for the first time in the 21st Century. Lots of trees, branches and leaves all over Lamma. More serious damage in town with thousands of people stranded overnight in remote, but protected areas. The recent Beijing floods caused more damage and a higher death toll. At least 37 compared to none(?) here.

Wise heads were right. The Stone Roses gig was on. Big hiss to Natalie and Trevor who were in the cheap seats next to me. Steven and Martin were there. Kieron the musician and Ciaran the clown with their other halves. (Sorry, lovely ladies. I've forgotten your names.) Aussie Tall Paul. Magnus the drummer. Sean from DBK along with Mike and Jane from Songs For Children. And their Scottish friend Dougal. Sarah (the Felicity Kendal lookalike) and Alex. Former resident Dave, who now lives over the border with Elo his wife. We were at Muse together. Karina was in there somewhere. Families with pre-teen to early-teen kids. Some hugely obese people in XXXL Stone Roses T-shirts. Lots of locals. The odd suit and tie. Probably about 6,000 people at the gig. The mosh pit could have sold out twice. If the tickets were cheaper. If I was going to pay $880 for a stand-up ticket, I'd want a couple of free "E's" included as well. Just joking. Drugs aren't cool anymore. Or is that people who say drugs aren't cool anymore, aren't cool anymore? Never mind. I think I remember The Sixties.

Flashback. It was 1996 when the Stone Roses imploded through a combination of ego, cocaine psychosis, pranks gone haywire and subsequent ruinous litigation, an incompetent manager, The Spike Island Disaster, Madchester burnout and a five-year hiatus before the second LP "Second Coming" sank faster than the Titanic in the UK. It did fine in Australia and America though. Bassist Mani joined Primal Scream and had a part-time career as a celebrity DJ. Vocalist Ian Brown formed his own band and battled with arrogance, air rage and indifferent vocal performances. Drummer Reni allegedly developed a heroin habit, sang part-time with other unknown bands and went fly-fishing. Guitarist John Squires remained ineffably cool and preferred his Jackson Pollock-inspired art career to music. The old wounds and scars only began to heal when all four band mates attended the funeral of Mani's mother. It was time to reclaim their heritage, founded in the main on the glorious debut album. Things happened fast. Mani likes to tell the story of how late last year he went to the ATM to get some money out for a pint of milk. He found 1.8 million quid credited to his account and realised that the Top Up The Pension Fund Revival Tour was seriously underway.

I'm in my seat by 2010. Figure the band will start about 2030. An eclectic DJ tape is playing. Tunes include "State of Independence" (twice) by the late Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder. Also the stunningly beautiful "God Only Knows" by The Beach Boys (HK debut in September as part of their 50th Anniversary World Tour). There's "Voodoo Ray" by A Guy Called Gerald (who DJ'ed at Rock-It 2003. Top geezer, too. With a lovely twinkle of esoteric knowledge in his eye). And some cool rap song that samples the line "21st Century Schizoid Man" by King Crimson. The only part of the song I recognised. I saw King Crimson at their peak in Exeter 1971. A mind-blowing drum solo, played twice by the late, great Ian Wallace. The second time, miked up and filtered through a synthesiser, controlled by Crimson's wordsmith Pete Sinfield. Available on the live "Earthbound" LP. Shit, the trivia is coming thick and fast.

I remember Mani playing here twice with Primal Scream in 1997 and 2000. Adrian Sherwood at the controls for the second gig - the night before Leftfield's HK debut. I also saw, and wrote, about Mani's DJ gig with Supersonic. We chatted briefly. Another nice geezer. Ian Brown played at RockIt 2006 (the final one in Victoria Park). His band opened with a great version of "I wanna Be Adored". Ian's voice was most unadorable that day. Hope it holds up tonight. Will they open with the same song? My guess is yes.

Asked and answered. The band come on stage just after 2030 to the fanfare of "Stoned Love"(?) by The Supremes. A big nei ho mah to the crowd from Ian and my guess is, yes, as "Adored" gets the audience into instant frenzy mode. Not quite as good as 2006, but a splendid jammed coda extends the tune by about 3 minutes. That's promising. Mani is extreme left stage. John extreme right. Looking like a mixture of young(ish) Keith Richards with Jeff Beck's haircut. Ian prowling hither and yon and Reni in a fisherman's hat is in imperious form. He's the real secret ecstatic magic ingredient. Not just the glue, but the whole fucking foundation that holds the Stone Roses' house firmly together. But, something's not quite gelled. Maybe nerves. "Mersey Paradise" is the next tune, followed by "Sugar Spun Sister" and then "Sally Cinnamon", the oldest song of the night.

Let's get synaesthetic for a moment in deference to John's dual abilities as paintmeister and axe god. I love the debut LP, the beautiful chords and melodies. It's reminiscent of the jangly, chimy Byrds classic of the late 60's to simplify things. It's a paisley folk-cum-psychedelic beast that channels the right parts of The Second Summer Of Love and The Madchester Vibe. Young John Squires oozes charisma and confidence in every lick. It's a dayglo lysergic neon pulsing portrait drenched in the vivid colours of 1950's Technicolour movies that sear your retinas like an atomic afterblast. That's young John. Old (today) John is almost like a faded ghostly sepia-tinted double-exposure in black and white, subsumed into the vivid hues of yesteryear's memories. He's Banquo's Ghost at the Feast.

A few songs later and the early glitches seem to be disappearing. The confidence is there. A reasonable version of "Ten Storey Love Song" from the second LP smooths through "Bang Bang Baby" (not too shabby) and "Shoot You Down" which segues with remarkable poise into "Fools Gold". At this point the concert starts to go stratospheric. Ian is soft-speaking the vocals and shuts up for most of the 10+ minutes of this new work-out. I guess the song works for me (and it's not necessarily my favourite) because it's timeless. It's modern. It's been re-mixed by top DJ's and fills dance floors.

John comes awake and goes all Sonic Youth. Caressing the speakers with his guitar. Causing feedback and shaping the sound. The three video screens are showing kaleidoscopic fractal images of the band overlayered with John's artwork. Suddenly, I'm mentally in The Fillmore in 1967. Watching Quicksilver Messenger Service do an hour-long version of "Who Do You Love". It is a stunning display of guitar magic and dissonance. Right up there with The Horrors "Moving Further Away". Or the Jesus And Mary Chain's gob-dropping, jaw-smacking version of "Reverence". This is a master class guitar wig-out. The Stone Roses have reclaimed their dance hall groover and how!

The band move into "Something's Burning" and Mani is looking a little peaked. His swagger I remember from the Primal Scream gigs isn't there. He looks like he might have heartburn or faint at any moment. Or he's thinking. Where the fuck am I? Where's the rest of Primal Scream? The drugs don't work and who are these guys. He ends the song with a horizontal throat slitting gesture like enough, enough. He takes a little break and slowly seems to regain poise and confidence.

The final six songs are a wet dream. "Love Spreads" is the second song of the night from the second album. Ian's vocals are layered with echo. It's a funky right-now beast with its "...she's my sister, sister, sister" fading refrain. Whoops of applause. The mosh pit is lit up. Ian could crowd-surf or walk on upraised hands or heads right out of the Arena if he wanted to. Reni is showing undreamed-of levels of drum excellence. As the show goes on, he gets stronger and carries the other three by sheer force of personality and a big kick drum. Have I already said how indispensable he is to the Stone Roses groove? Anyway, the final canter pulls in the biggest hits. "Waterfall" and the backwards instrumental passages. Just like on the first LP according to Trevor. Then "Made of Stone" (with the "...sometimes I fantasise, where the streets are cold and lonely...") line quoted above. Then the horripilatory (word just for you, Lamma-Gung, my editor) canter through "This Is The One", "She Bangs The Drums" and "I Am The Resurrection" with at least four false endings, teasing the crowd into a more orgiastic buzz. Ian has a close up on the huge video screen where he's playing with two Bruce Lee action figures. One in the black coolie trousers. The other dressed in the famous yellow tracksuit, made famous by Uma Thurman in "Kill Bill'.

Suddenly, it's 2210. The four band mates have gathered together on stage front and centre. Arms around each others' shoulders. Love hugs and recognition of a Job Well Done. I'm wondering if there are some subsidiary flickers of regret about 16 wasted years when they're lapping up the applause. But, shit. At least they are back together and Japan's Fuji Rock Festival is just over the horizon. They can probably hang out with Radiohead, Beady Eye (with Liam Gallagher) and estranged brother Noel's High Flying Birds. Noel should be in HK for a show in the coming months. Well, I hope I haven't been too over-analytical and made you lose approximately 50,000 neurons while reading this.

Gareth very much enjoyed the show and has graciously allowed me to quote his review. In Toto. Here goes: "Fucking Great!". 'Nuff said. Respect reclaimed. Now write a new fucking album. Don't miss the tide this time.

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