O2? PARTAY ?
Alan decided, in metagraphic terms, it was pop’s very own Story of O.
The Round obelisk by the river, now the O2 Dome, North Greenwich tube, be prepared for a queue after the show, Entertainment Complex Extraordinaire, risen from the Ashes of Mandelson’s Millenium Folly.
So the Outside Organization, fiesty youths out for a night of it after a hard day’s slog at the Dome, came complete with branded T Shirts, the seredipitous O occuring again.
Branding was, everywhere, some brands without Os(oo’d a thunk it?) but there was an O onstage screen in the AOL brand who were sponsoring tonights headline show by Crowded House.
The Cop outside agreed it was only a matter of time befoore they too, The Met, were sponsored, in fact he explained in certain circumstances they are already, in all but name.
But Crowded House was just in one O2 place, in the big place there was Gary Lightbody and No Patrol, valiantly flying the flag for a not so Live Earth.
One where the only recycling that takes place is the manipulation of cheesy images and a say nothing smirk in a know nothing town.
The perfect band, in fact, for a heavily branded auditorium, being almost Jo Whiley-esque in their ability to be transparent and a blank canvas.
The House were predictably Fahne, despite the bizarreness of the Indigo Lounge crowd, many on VIP corporate paid bar freebies, free bar, free flowers, free straw boaters, free inflatable beach balls.
Neil Finn said it was like playing the Bowling Social Club and he had a point. The hum of chat got louder when the band were playing music, rather than HITs.
That was the drinkers and schmoozers loss, Crowded House songs reveal themselves in steadily more impressive shades of finery, catch yourself wondering if this is as good as The Ones You KNow and things start happening, they assert themselves.
Really it still holds true - they are as near to seeing late period Beat;les as we all will ever get.
Neil Finn, because he was the only Finn Snr there, no mention made of brother Tim, though just as I wrote that Pete Paphidies, who had by far the best idea and went downstairs rather than staying in the upstairs bit where I was, just texted to say that young Liam was handling harmonies.
Liam Finn, I presume.
Which would just be classic Finn enriching tactics, his seed grown afresh its like an actualisation of a shining recurring quality in Neil’s luscious dream songs. And the band rocks like mothers too, if you listen.
But at one point not enough were.Listening, that is. Neil snapped, suddenly.
“Listen to the songs you bastards, you can talk tomorrow.”
The O2 Dome as now reconfigured is unlike anything I have ever seen.
The entrance to it is so big so magestically modern, it is the modern world, and I mean that in no bad way. Water features with clevermoss walled gardens are a fucking excellent thing! The sheerly magic quality of playing music near water cannot be overstated either. And s the architecture, using the gigantism of its river side setting to full effect, is dazzling. It rolls out into a variety of bars, clubs, restaurants, concession stalls and cinemas. Its a so much better and with the smoking ban, clearer, environment to that of the new Wembley (a place where the absence of smoke just highlights the unappealing odor of the fast food outlets).
A bit Hard Rock, a bit Madison Square gardens, a bit World Fair 21st century style on the ribberbank, its gotta be a good thing.
Impressive slate of acts and all that to launch too.
And I loved the guuitar exhibit in conjunction with Gibson, signed by celebrities various (although the one claiming to be signed by “various artists” and posing as a advert for the Dome was rather shameless and naughty (the guitar exhibits are to auctioned for various chairities).
Overall the geetars,designed by some really gifted, loving artists (feel the love glow and spangle and radiate through Andrew Logan’s Brian May one) and spread through the complex, on a course that involves passing (and who can resist stopping?) a place where you can make your own videos for free and they get emailed to you, are lovely.
I mean, are we having fun yet or what, kids?
I stopped short when I got to one signed by Mark Ronson however - nice design but it kind of said something about the O2 experience.
Namely, Mark Rondson isnt a guitar player is he.
Where’s Mick, I mean really, a shrine or summat please, surely, to the maestro
You have to appreciate the artists and if not given precedence here, our own great and good story, then where?
Oh I know to succeed the Venue has to reach out to those that aren’t interested in buying music (which, lets face it folks, this is reality afterall, a stesadily growing market) but buying, or buying into an experience. And , why not?
You had to hope, after meeting the bright young staff, the gal serving in the themed Italian eaterie, the hat check kid in the VIP bit, that they were there, not just becuase young people have the potential to be better and smarter than we were, buyt also as a result of Good (as opposed to bad Major era) middle management.
Hey maybe David Milliband will turn out to be a clean straight reliable efficent controller.
YOu live in hope.
Couldn’t agree with Stuart about Macca’s Bellamy though I must, sometime, check out Madman Across The Water.
It wasn’t an album I ever heard I explained, I was living in Ireland at the time and the title seemed a little too close to home for comfort I said, in London!
Oh how we laffed.
Anyway fair enough… Im not about to quibble with economic reality (day to day reality I can just about manage)…
But…if the music isn’t given the reverence (reverence not necessarily accorded it by having a large out of synch, broadcasting on the web AOL branded screen above the artist’s head as Neil Finn had)…the experience will be diminished.
Will the circle be unbroken?
O, as Michael Stipe mused, I said too much…
