Echo And The Bunnymen
Royal Concert Hall, Glasgow
28/09/2011

Though not necessarily their best, ‘Ocean Rain’ is easily Echo And The Bunnymen‘s most accomplished album. While the previous three saw their sound evolve from wiry, sparse post punk to an intense strain of psychedelia, the visionary Liverpudlians reached a state of complete artistic maturity on the 1984 release. A more restrained and direct work, ‘Ocean Rain’ is an ambitious, string-laden beauty and was famously marketed as ‘the greatest album ever made’. Following its release, there was nowhere left for the group to go and so they soon parted ways. A mid-’90s reformation has seen them stuck in the middle of the road ever since, falling short of both the elegance and visceral angst that characterised the best of their early work.

Fortunately, with only two original members left in the fold, the band can still cut their teeth as a live act, to the extent that the recent material played in tonight’s opening ‘Greatest Hits’ set is a revelation. ‘Stormy Weather’ in particular comes across like an ’80s student disco staple, all nagging bass and scratchy guitars, while ‘Rust’’s towering majesty is overpowering. Oldies summon the audience up off their seats and a celebratory atmosphere is created. The stage is set for the evening’s main attraction, a complete run through of ‘Ocean Rain’ with the band augmented by a six piece string section. For many fans, this promises to be as good as it gets. However, when our heroes return from the interval, it is immediately apparent that something has gone horribly wrong.

Bunnymen frontman Ian McCulloch is drunk and incoherent and so the amiable between-song patter of the first act gives way to unintelligible, slurred abuse. What should have been an unequivocal triumph of a gig quickly becomes an exercise in squandering over thirty years’ worth of accumulated good will. Apparently angered by something to do with a birthday cake, the man once dubbed Mac the Mouth engages in a verbal altercation with a member of the front row whom he deems a “cheeky bullock”. As the set progresses, he chides venue staff for being “thick knob heads” and flounces when stage lighting illuminates his silhouetted figure. At one point he appears to affect a cockney accent while calling someone a “fucking faggot”. How does he deal with a heckler? By suggesting that he’s a “Polish knob head”, threatening to “knee cap [his] head off”, imploring “true fans” to assault him. This behaviour, of course, has no place amidst a set of delicate songs, let alone during the songs themselves. The audience calls for McCulloch to stop ruining the show and he storms off. Or at least tries to. The exits are blocked and he is forced into having a meltdown in front of around 2000 fans, muttering something about bad news. The ‘Ocean Rain’ set goes unfinished and by this point no-one seems to care.

Lewis Porteous