Boston, Massachusetts - 10.12.85
1985
The Jesus and Mary Chain
Boston, Massachusetts
venue: The Channel
date: 10.12.85
Life's cruelties never cease. While people are falling down drunk across town, I am condemned to endure an embarrassing romp through feedback land; 40 minutes of music that's bound to set rock'n' roll back to, oh, 1977.
Belaboured delusions of grandeur. Jim Reid screaming 'F***' over and over and over... brother Billy's boring barre chords, a 'crowd' of teens conspicuous by their apathy. These are the new Sex Pistols?
Without the distractions over overturned amps, smashed guitars, ripped down PA systems, fights on stage and eleventh hour rescues by gun-toting cops, JAMC are just another angry night dressed in black, a laconic theatre-of-the-absurd, an embarrassment to the spirit of Sid. The Pistols at least threw melody into their madness -'Upside Down' and 'Never Understand', on the other hand, are merely noise disguised as histrionics.
In fairness, there was a moment when I did feel a certain nervous energy, a sudden shuffling of feet you might say. Before the reaper could do his dirty work we drank one last whiskey to the spirit of 20 minute sets, then kicked dirt on the tombstone. JAMC? RIP.
Boston, Massachusetts
venue: The Channel
date: 10.12.85
Life's cruelties never cease. While people are falling down drunk across town, I am condemned to endure an embarrassing romp through feedback land; 40 minutes of music that's bound to set rock'n' roll back to, oh, 1977.
Belaboured delusions of grandeur. Jim Reid screaming 'F***' over and over and over... brother Billy's boring barre chords, a 'crowd' of teens conspicuous by their apathy. These are the new Sex Pistols?
Without the distractions over overturned amps, smashed guitars, ripped down PA systems, fights on stage and eleventh hour rescues by gun-toting cops, JAMC are just another angry night dressed in black, a laconic theatre-of-the-absurd, an embarrassment to the spirit of Sid. The Pistols at least threw melody into their madness -'Upside Down' and 'Never Understand', on the other hand, are merely noise disguised as histrionics.
In fairness, there was a moment when I did feel a certain nervous energy, a sudden shuffling of feet you might say. Before the reaper could do his dirty work we drank one last whiskey to the spirit of 20 minute sets, then kicked dirt on the tombstone. JAMC? RIP.
