Six days after the outbreak of excessive ‘dad-dancing’ at the Tramshed, a journey to one of the country’s most iconic venues and a final chance to catch one of the country’s most iconic bands as they wrapped up a 15 date UK tour.
I’ve written about the Tramshed gig and the quality of the musicianship, the stellar set list and the overall enjoyment of the Welsh crowd on the night. This night surpassed that, transcending to a different orbit and demonstrating once more that the humble band who have been ploughing their own furrow for half a century remain as impressive in the live arena now as they did in those psychedelic drug-induced days in the 70s.
The surroundings made a difference. The venue is tiered, so many tiers, bigly tiers everywhere. A large standing arena in front of the stage allowed the faithful to get closer whilst I was perched in the gods, the standing element in the Gallery which is as close to God as you can get. The view from 8 miles above the stage reasonable once I’d found a vantage point. Luckily, I’d remembered my glasses.
Sensibly avoiding the Black Heart Orchestra this time, Hawkwind (10) arrived on stage around 8:30pm. A two-hour set that comprised the same setlist as Cardiff followed. Motorway City into Flesh Fondue, the latter already sitting comfortably in the set. Perched in the heavens allowed us to admire, appreciate and absorb the blinding light show that the band had constructed. Those lasers that flew over our heads in Cardiff were now a visual psychedelic carpet over the arena, the myriad conflation of rainbow colours colliding in a cosmic kaleidoscope.
It was only during the elongated Born To Go that I suddenly realised how blisteringly heavy Hawkwind can be. Their space rock is often dismissed as ‘hippy’ music, but the driving bass lines, the thundering drums and the heavy riffing combines to great effect. No wonder there were sporadic outbreaks of head banging around the grand old venue. Further proof came during a fantastic Spirit Of the Age, complete with huge audience participation and a mighty version of The Watcher and Silver Machine, once again with the mighty Phil Campbell guesting on guitar.
Honed and professional may not have always been associated with Hawkwind, but today their anarchic stand is slightly bowed from the 50 years fighting the corporate machine. Their merchandise was far greater in option than I’d ever seen, and the hawkers on the pavement outside after the show suggested how far the band have travelled. On stage they remain a tight outfit, minor technical issues swiftly addressed. Switching instruments at will, only drummer Richard Chadwick remained in place, the others moving between guitars and keys with ease. The sonic attack continued with further tracks from All Aboard The Skylark, before we suddenly reached the encores. Jah Wobble had appeared, added some backing vocals and disappeared in the flash of an eye.
Hurry On Sundown was every bit as emphatic as in Cardiff, emotions fighting to stay in check as the crowd roared the words along. Then Phil Campbell was back, flanking Dave Brock as the riff to Master Of The Universe signalled the final few minutes. An anthem which you never tire of listening to, this was the perfect set closer. Hawkwind, the UK institution remain a ferocious live band. With dates already pencilled in for 2020, the ship continues to traverse the universe. It may be beginning its descent but there are no signs that a return to earth is imminent.
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