A virtual "Who's Who" of the Tampa Bay Area's New Wave dance elite gathered at downtown Clearwater's snug Capitol Theater last Saturday night to re-live the glory days of bi-level haircuts and clove cigarettes. Oh yeah, and to dig on the sounds of one of the most enduring and most representative bands of the genre — the Psychedelic Furs. [Text by Gabe, photos by Jeff.]
As promised, the Furs delivered their landmark sophomore album, 1981's Talk Talk Talk in its entirety as part of the 30th anniversary tour commemorating the album's release date. The songs that painted the landscape for most 40-somethings in attendance came to life with a fire and a vengeance that equaled the gritty delivery locked in the grooves of that legendary album. Lead singer Richard Butler and the rest of Furs' current five-piece incarnation dove headfirst into the infectious drone and din that characterizes the fine album and has continued to make it a fan favorite.
In a clever and unexpected move, the band opted to scramble the sequence of the album instead of playing it in its original running order. A bold but smart move, indeed, as the evening got off to a rousing start at 7:30 p.m. sharp (sans opening act) with a white-hot version of "Dumb Waiters," one of Talk Talk Talk's many standout cuts.
The best-known song on the album, "Pretty in Pink," was not saved as the set-closer; surprisingly, it was wheeled out in fine form early in the set, the Furs opting to flex their collective muscle and draw more attention to the lesser-known gems. A personal favorite, "Into You Like A Train," sounded as heavy and mesmerizing as ever. "She Is Mine" was performed with the enthusiasm and energy of a brand new band, more than likely due to the fact this this (and many other deep album cuts) rarely see the light of day in a typical Furs setlist.
Butler's as engaging and charismatic as he's ever been. The slim vocalist, clad in a simple black blazer and slacks and sporting a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, demonstrated his mystique and physicality as boldly as ever. Whether bouncing up and down, spinning in circles, or slouched over his mic, Butler's unique and unmistakable vocal delivery rivaled his stage presence with fierce intensity. No longer the brooding pouter of yesteryear, Butler has turned his frown upside-down, smiling and mugging for much of the evening. Older brother and bassist Tim Butler sported a jet-black pair of Ray Bans the entire evening as he made his way from side to side on the small stage, all the while singing along to the lyrics his little brother was dousing the raucous crowd with.
After finishing the album and taking a short break, the band returned to perform more "hits and some misses" as Tim laughingly described them in a recent phone interview I held with him. But make no mistake, the hits far outnumbered any misses I detected.
"Heartbreak Beat," "Heaven" and "Heartbeat" all sounded fresh and inspired. The anthems that dominated the dance floors of all those dank, smoky clubs many moons ago came back to life and reinvigorated those in the audience who all looked to revel in the memories and bask in their youth as they rushed the stage and danced wildly for the duration of the second 50-minute set. As expected, when "Love My Way" was performed, the place went wild. On the short list of the songs that defined the era and still sound exciting and daring today, "Love My Way" is rightfully near (or at) the top of that exclusive list. A song that defined the look, feel and vibe of so many disenchanted, alienated kids on the outside of the mainstream somehow became a symbol or a badge for that band of misfits and still remains so to this day judging from the response it still elicits.
But more than a look back to our younger days, the night was rippled with obvious reminders that the Psychedelic Furs were, and certainly still are, a force to be reckoned with. Any one of their first four albums still sound ridiculously modern and cutting edge today and can be enjoyed with the same enthusiasm and joy as was felt 30 years ago.
The elation and the air of reminiscing of the evening was summed up beautifully within the group of women who sat right in front of me. On either side were two 40-somethings who danced feverishly and sang along to every word Richard Butler belted out. In the middle was a teenaged girl (no doubt the daughter of one of the ladies) who sat very still and seemed highly uninterested. "This is REAL music!" the lady on the right screamed at the younger girl in the middle, almost in a voice of reprimand. The ladies then heaved their purses at the teenager so that they could make their way down the aisle and right to the front of the stage to get closer to the band and merge into the crowd that had gathered in the pit area.
We may be older and a bit slower these days, but we're a loyal bunch; old habits die hard and for all the aging hipsters who filled the Capitol to its capacity last Saturday, I salute you. I still love the Psychedelic Furs and I still feel that same rush when I listen to them now as I did when I was 15 years old, and it's obvious that all of you who were there Saturday night do, too. Who knew that while we inadvertently kicked or elbowed one another on the dance floor at Tampa's London Victory Club back in 1983 while dancing to the Furs music, that there was a chance we might be doing the very same thing as we approached middle age several decades later? Our clove cigarettes and leather jackets are gone but we still share the common bond and fraternity of growing up in the 1980's. And the Psychedelic Furs were, and obviously still are, the beat we still march to.
This article appears in Jul 7-13, 2011.