I don't recall seeing this here before, so here is an early 90's live review from B-Side magazine (Hope you all like it):
New Model Army
830 Club, Washington, DC
The comment went something like this: “Last tour we were at the bottom of a well. This time we’re at the bottom of the well looking up…”
Or something like that from New Model Army’s percussionist Robb Heaton after their completely overwhelming Washington date at the famous club with its address for a name. You always know where it is. And if you had to be somewhere that night the 930 was the place to be. It’s been a few years since I first saw New Model Army perform live, and each time I see them I’m forcefully reminded what power and conviction truly is. It doesn’t come in the form of fancy sounds, trendy sampling or cool haircuts. It comes in the powerful form of New Model Army.
Even their soundman was raving after this particular show. Why this one? Maybe the band was rested: Justin Sullivan had lost his voice in Philadelphia, forcing him to cancel their date in that merry old town. There was some jokes flying about the fact that Bush was in Philadelphia that very night, and I’ll just bet he was crushed at not seeing them perform. Maybe he was at the show in Washington: doesn’t he just seem like the typical clear thinking, compassionate New Model Army fan? Uh-huh.
Whatever made this show the firestorm that it was was a welcome event.
The proceedings opened with the master violinist Edward Alleyne Johnson treating the packed audience to a little night music, as his fluid bow caresses those strings with a shiver of seduction. Call him a mere fiddler and you’ll be dealing with fire.
The Army has changed members over the year, the stage line-up now consisting of stalwarts Justin and Rob, augmented by guitarist Adrian, violinist/keyboardist Edward, and new bassist Nelson. Last time Nelson toured the States it was with Modern English in 1986. The man has definitely advanced his place in the annals of music, not to mention (but I will) adding a fun haircut to the band.
So what did this band to that was so special this night? Did they play harder than usual? That doesn’t seem possible, as they always put their all into their sets. Their dinner was fairly normal. Did they conduct some strange ritual in their dressing room minutes before taking the stage? Or did they just believe in every note, in every nuance of sound that flew like shrapnel from their collective instruments? This band sounded like the band who should be king, the band that should rule the world: think of a cliché for the occasion and they beat it that night.
They had their fans’ hearts beating at an accelerated level, performing new material from Impurity like they’ve been tossing it from the stage for years. Seldom performed numbers like “Archway Towers” ripped the air clean away, while typical rave-ups “White Coats” or the dangerous “120 MPH” seemed to shine with a fiercer flame. Adrian kept out of the way while Nelson loved every second of the stage, competing at the front. Rob’s performance left him and the audience soaked and breathless. But it was Justin that proved to be the focal point, the daring vortex of their madness. Perhaps I didn’t expect such dead-on delivery from a man who had gone to the hospital the day before. But how silly of me, this is New Model Army, and the stage is their kingdom. Just ask a few hundred thousand fans in Europe who flock to their shows. Midway through the sweaty mess the club was rapidly reducing to Justin stepped up to the mike to tease, “Do you want more?” The crowd, being the very picture of sanity, bellowed its enthusiasm while Justin laughed, “You thick bastards!” If you’re going to suffocate in sweat, go down with the best.
People who dismiss New Model Army as a dour puritanical band are unimaginative unfeeling morons. Why those words get tagged to them is one of the modern mysteries of mankind. Dour? Pessimistic? Try alive and frightening, targeting the powers that shouldn’t be with their magnificent visionary aim. They speak for every one of us, be we poor, weak, frightened, frustrated, bitter or just plain angry.
And what better for them to end with their first single “Vengeance”, a number that seldom graces the stage. But when Justin came back for the encore and asked, “So what do you want to hear?” the heroic chant of “Vengeance” bounded with force from a few hundred voices. With a laugh Justin turned to the band and as the first notes sliced the air the audience went into super nova. Beautiful.
If New Model Army are at the bottom of a well in America, that says something about American audiences and American record companies. Do we join them at the bottom looking up our throw down a ladder of understanding?
Live and learn. And pass that rope.
- Sandra Garcia (B-Side magazine, Dec 1991/Jan 1992).
