Alexander's, Chester (23rd June 2024)
Review by Brian Gorman
If you're in the grand city of Chester on a sweltering midsummer's Sunday evening, then there's no better place to experience a band than the gloriously atmospheric courtyard of Alexander's Live.
The Blockheads were the ideal outfit for a place like this. Full throttle funky, jazzy, blues rock echoing into the still summer air, and threatening to blow the (non-existent) roof off.
Any band that has to carry on after the sad demise of a charismatic, universally loved frontman like Ian Dury, has its work cut out. Few bands manage to pull it off, but in the manic, frenzied, firecracker figure of Mike Bennett, the Blockheads certainly have.
Playing in the compact, high walled courtyard, there's a feeling of attending a gladiatorial display at a modern day amphitheatre, with a certain theatrical quality thanks to a wrought iron, spiral staircase that the musicians needed to navigate on their route to the stage area. Bennett is the first to appear, entering carefully, unannounced, and casually secreting himself behind the sound desk. Out of sight of the audience (except for a few punters grabbing a beer in the bar), he prepared himself by slipping on a tweed flat cap, whilst crouched on his haunches, and waiting for his band mates to take their places.
Faces familiar to the old school fans elicited the expected whoops and cheers, as the likes of guitarist Chaz Jankel appeared, and prepared themselves for battle.
Once the gang were ready, Bennett took his place at the mic stand, gave the audience a thousand yard stare, brandishing his black eyeliner enhanced peepers, and screaming out a gravelly, Essex twanged "Oi, Oi?!!"
With the capacity crowd now excitedly revved up, the band ease into their opening song, the tingly, seductive, piano-led 'Wake Up'. A deceptively gentle, yet cheeky, saucy little number that tickles the assorted nether regions of the audience. Mickey Gallagher caresses the ivories in fine, light-fingered style, while Bennett's croaky, Essex lad vocals perfectly channeled the spirit and attitude of Ian Dury. 'Wake Up (And Make Love To Me)' is the perfect opener, and a friendly challenge to the already up-for-it crowd to join in the forthcoming musical gangbang.
Next up, in a rather similar (throbbing) vein, is 'I'm Partial To Your Abracadabra'. It's a non-stop erotic cabaret tonight, and the audience are lapping it up. Bennett encroaches on the punters on the front line, emitting a penetrating laser beam stare reminiscent of Gort the robot from 'The Day The Earth Stood Still'. The man is a totally wired, pale-faced Baron Samedi, working his disturbing, devilish magic with undisguised glee.
The hits are greeted with frenzied appreciation, and prove to be evergreen delights. 'What A Waste' is a little more on the melancholy side, but retains the infectious tremble that permeates the Blockheads' creative output.
Dave Lewis's sax squeals and pierces the dusk, and he manages to wander into the crowd, at one point. The courtyard makes for a truly immersive experience, and with this particular band, you really couldn't ask for a more sensationally integrated gig.
'Sex And Drugs And Rock And Roll' could be the band's manifesto, and has lead man Bennett indulging his theatrical side, wildly gesticulating to the near-frothing crowd. Chaz Jankel's guitar (alongside bassist Nathan King) brings every song to hysterical life, and as the co-writer of their biggest hits, is particularly welcomed with enormous love and appreciation this evening.
'Reasons To Be Cheerful (Part Three)', that crazy, early sample of cockney rap is delivered perfectly by Bennett, and gets the crowd dancing like delirious smurfs. John Roberts' savage, primal drumbeat kicks things off. Howling sax from Dave Lewis contributes the somewhat incongruous romantic interlude, and showcases the sheer playfulness and eccentricity of the Blockheads. Of course, it's the opening bars of their number one chart-topper, 'Hit Me With Your Rythm Stick' that seals the deal, tonight. Bennett raises his game to ever more dizzying heights with this jerky, aggressive anthem, whilst also absolutely nailing the crooning, gentle vocals. The terrifyingly stuttering sax, combined with Mickey Gallagher's jangly, seductive piano is irresistible. This song is a living embodiment of a full-blown, driving, gathering orgasm.
On a sweltering summer's eve, in this boiling cauldron of passion, The Blockheads delivered a truly anarchic, lusty, adrenaline enhanced shafting of the primal erotic shared consciousness. A crazed celebration of the human condition, and all its unbridled, barely contained volcanic power.
It's SO nice to be a lunatic.
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