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| Image Copyright: Graham Gilmore Photography |
Trudging through the sludge and muck at the Phoenix Park last
Thursday evening, I did wonder what I was doing more than once... however that
may have resulted from the uninformed trek to the point of entry to the Stone
Roses concert as opposed to the slippery conditions onsite. Us reconstituted country-folk often neglect
to recall that “walking distance” doesn’t connote a five-minute saunter. However, the anticipation mounting in my gut
drove me onwards, and, ignoring sore feet, thirst and general malaise, I
trundled on.
A palpable sense of excitement was evident in most folk
wandering through the vast space of the Phoenix Park and as many will
have observed – a chemically induced walking-somnolence was equally evident in
others. In any event, either physical condition
served only to indicate the veritable serendipity of seeing this band, back
together again.
The Stone Roses represent many things to many people; the
fact that the audience at this concert appeared to span three decades of birth illustrates
this clearly. For most, it’s
point-in-time; youth, love, adulthood, growth.
I must confess to being at the younger-end of the scale of the Roses
fandom, however, no less committed than those ten years or so my senior.
The opening lines of “I Wanna Be Adored” sent juddering,
shuddering tremors through the crowd amidst the raucous shouts, hyperactivity
and thundering bass. They’d landed. Though I can’t claim the moment I heard “it
first” or being cool enough [or old enough] to have loved them when the
pre-eminent album arrived, I felt the transcendent, illuminating and warm
sensation “The Stone Roses” engenders in me every time I listen to it.
Powering through a set which included a comprehensive
selection-box of their back catalogue, there was almost certainly something for
everyone. For this particular fan, there
were few tracks unwelcome on the set-list, though I’m sure newcomers to the
band would’ve found the latter half more recognisable. Fair criticism can be expected in respect of
Ian Brown’s vocal prowess, which at times, was wavering – however as a collective,
there was significant weight and skill in the musical architecture of each
song.
Depending on one’s predilection, album-wise, “Love Spreads”,
“Ten Storey Love Song”, “Made of Stone”, “She Bangs the Drums” or “Waterfall”
may have held a special groove in your heart.
The reality for anyone close to this band’s work is that it’s quite
difficult to be drawn on the tracks we don’t
love. For every song that might not have
been just as good or had a real resonance like another –
there is something a little special, if sometimes not fully-formed, about every
single one.
Undoubtedly the timbre changed when “Fools Gold” kicked into
gear, the opening riff electrifying even the most subdued concert-goers,
culminating in the ultimate embodiment of nostalgia... some pretty questionable
dancing.
A slightly anarchic reference to the incumbent monarch lead
into the final three tracks of the set, concluding with “I Am the
Resurrection”, a rousing send-off for the 45,000 faithful, baying for more.
As the title suggests, these insights are coloured by deep
affection and respect for the band and its music – however they’re not
completely blinkered. For me, the
biggest disappointment was the venue and its facilities, which detracted hugely
from the momentous atmosphere surrounding the concert. Swarms of people thronged the inadequate
drinks and toilet facilities [while, unsurprisingly, there were few waiting for
food] – an average wait of thirty-five minutes to get your mitts on a pint of
beer was most frustrating. One of my
fellow-travellers made their way [thank you Caroline] through several
snake-like queues and managed to gain access to the bar, however the arduous
requisitioning of said refreshments was a major nuisance.
Obviously, concerts of such magnitude are likely to generate
muck and general madness, however informed and wise management of provisions
could have short-circuited hassle and discomfort. Having recently attended the Westport Music Festival, I had definitely been somewhat spoiled by the careful coordination
and management of crowd, facilities and refreshments. One could argue that a smaller crowd [circa
10,000] and being in its first year may account for this, however it seems to
me that clearer thought and comprehension was involved – something which
didn’t appear to exist on Thursday night.
A promise of “Like Fu Manchu, we will return” received
gleeful roars from the audience, however only time will tell if they actually
do. As a lucky peep who once shared a
beer with two of the Roses [and received much-deserved chastisement for same],
and despite very-much hoping there will be a return visit, I don’t think a
Second Coming at the Phoenix Park would be of interest. Any chance of an Olympia residency, guys?
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