I have now seen John Foxx six times. I have broken my own rule, which is to see an artist twice at most. The first time acts as pilgrimage; the second time if it happens always disappoints slightly. The second time for John Foxx was the Harold Budd concert, which broke the disappointment rule since after all I was there first and foremost to see the great Harold Budd. This was in Brighton of course. Unavoidable. I have seen John four times in Brighton. Last year Cardiff, when seen from the internet, was too expensive to travel to or to stay in (or was it both perhaps) so Brighton, the next best bet, was unavoidable. Then last November, Tiny Colour Movies, Brighton, unavoidable. I would probably have gone for the ICA this year to hear Metamatic but I left it too late so the next best bet was Brighton. Unavoidable.
John Foxx IS Brighton now. Maybe he always has been. Those on here who know me know I was a student in Brighton for three years. In 1991, in the days before the internet (and decent record shops in the South West) a Virgin megastore was something magical to a music-obsessed 17 year old visiting his first of five possible universities. I found In Mysterious Ways there, my first CD, some months before I had anything to hear it on. I wanted to go to Nottingham but my grades that summer weren’t good enough so the choice was made for me to go to my reserve choice, which was Brighton. Inevitable. Brighton was buying Foxx at record fairs (in the days before the internet and decent record shops in the South West): the Ultravox! LP, the Burning Car picture disc, and numerous other items including the vinyl for Metamatic.
So, that’s the background. I have had a busy couple of months. I often thought to myself, it’s only Brighton, it’s only Metamatic (which I have on cassette, vinyl, and four different CD versions), just cancel the hotel, forget the train, save the money. Even the tour CDs will arrive at my door courtesy of Birdsong. Also, no-one to meet this time, no Birdsong, no Craig, no Peter, no Andreas, no Rob Harris. It’s “only” Metamatic. You can, however, take things for granted:
Like the Palace Pier, which is nowhere near as romantic as the derelict West Pier. And yet, last night, leaving the hotel in the gathering night, the West Pier was invisible but the Palace Pier (sorry, I should call it the Brighton Pier these days) sparkled with life and lights, its reflection ghosts glimmering and shimmering on the water in myriad colours. I should have brought my camera. Never mind, plenty of others were recording the phenomenon for me, their little coloured screens adding to the night light.
Like the queue outside the Barfly, which I remember as the Gloucester. Awful cheap eighties nights. Didn’t recognise the place inside, looked more like the Zap. Is the Zap gone too? The queue to get in went right around the corner, and I was fairly early. This “Metamatic” must really mean something to some people. I always preferred The Garden and most of The Golden Section, but after tonight I have to accept that the great M is on at least a par with these. The boredom and awkwardness of being alone and having to judge the pints and toilet stops and marking of one’s territory, and of waiting for the merchandise stall to set up, was relieved by feline1 and Misspain. I recognised the strains of the ZX Spectrum and felt embarrassed not to have ever heard the awesome “T.V.O.D.” Another great bunch of tunes! Sadly, the VileEvils made me feel there was something wrong somewhere. Some of it worked though, especially the cover of She’s Lost Control. 1980 never sounded so modern. Which brings me to the main event. It’s only Metamatic.
I only noticed one lyric difference, a line repurposed to the wrong verse. Otherwise, flawless. And 1980 never sounded so modern. A couple of extensions, like the familiar new ending to Touch and Go. Strategic delays on the 030 lyric but they fit. Was it Tidal Wave whose bass nearly split my body at its natural frequency? It was brief and warm but insistent, like a punch on the back from an angel. A wake-up call, time to start again. And to hear the B-sides so loud and reverberating playfully from wall to wall brought me back to the ideas of Cathedral Oceans, echoes in rows. I had to buy the tour CDs to see them in their full glory on the night so it looks like I will have a spare pair for a deserving forum member. I used to dream of buying John Foxx CDs in Brighton with lots of unheard material (I blame my limited imagination). Now those dreams are reality.
Back to the beach, to crunch underfoot, to think, to consider my Reggie Perrin moment, then to bed, then up and walk to Hove and beyond and back. Can’t think of a better way to start a cloudy Monday.
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Alex, if you want that one for Quiet City please feel free.
