Day 322. How the darkness doubled. (18/11/13)

And here's the bizarre dichotomy that you sometimes get at gigs; the artist isn't necessarily having the same night out as the audience. Sometimes the folk on the stage are having a much better time than the paying punters who see only an indulgent mess where the band see envelope pushing improvisation; sometimes it's the other way round and the artist are having nowhere near the fun that their fans are.

Last night was a case in point. From where I was standing Television were utterly immaculate; three quarters of the original line up remaining, only co-guitarist Richard Lloyd missing from the band's glory days, replaced by a musician of similar vintage and calibre in the form of the wonderfully bearded and be hatted Jimmy Rip.

Rip is as incendiary a player as the band's leader, Tom Verlaine, equally able to peel off stinging lyrical lead lines and powerful rhythm parts as the group's focal point.

And it was that focal point that seemed to be having an evening of quiet frustration.

The band entered with little to no fanfare and occupied themselves with tuning up, drifting into a slight jam period before choosing to start the set proper with 'Prove It' approximately ten minutes after I'd chosen to title last night's blog after that particular song. I am, if you weren't aware, utterly as one with the universe and able to tap into higher powers. Debut single 'Little Johnny Jewel' followed. For about fifteen magnificent minutes. And then the first issue arose; the lights behind the band were too bright, the lights in front too dim, there were shadows on the guitar strings. For an artist with a reputation for seriousness and a 'difficult' approach, Verlaine approached this issue with more than a touch of humour.

He commenced the encore with the same humour, requesting alterations to the onstage sound as 'it might be fine out there but up here it's a gloopy fucked up mess'; a mess that saw him halt 'See No Evil' with his fingers thrust into his ears, a restart post adjustments ended with the singer abandoning vocals and concentrating on guitar until he could get out of the song. It was the only encore.

But between these two poles we were treated to the majority of the classic Marquee Moon album, the main set closing with (again) approximately a quarter of an hour of the title track; to hear those chords start that song after living it for so long? Indescribable.

We had a clumsy start to a surprise rendition of their third album's opener '1880 or So' but the guitars soon switched setting to 'soar'. A new song mid set was equally stratospheric.

It was a thoroughly magnificent night from start to finish; dynamic, aggressive, inventive. The take on Marquee Moon was as impressive as anything that I have ever seen live, equal to The Roses' 'Fools Gold' at Heaton Park.

I wasn't alone in this, there were about 1,000 of us who felt exactly the same way. I wish Tom Verlaine had been able to enjoy it as much as the rest of us.