Almost 40 years after the release of Ocean Rain, Echo & the Bunnymen graced Nottingham’s Royal Concert Hall to play their seminal album in all its glory. Accompanied by the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, the band truly immersed its audience in a realm of other-worldly beauty. Alice Beard talks you through the evening.
Kickstarting the night with their first set, the band pulled songs from throughout their extensive back catalogue. As they dove straight in with Going Up off their 1980 debut album Crocodiles, a palpable aura of nostalgia filled the room. Ripping through this first set, the band seemed unshakeable , with McCulloch’s voice effortlessly holding onto those tender qualities which first accompanied him in 1978. Will Sergeant too was on top form, his unmistakeable shimmering guitar riffs cutting seamlessly through the noise. Nothing Lasts Forever sent ripples through the crowd, but it was their 1985 single Bring on the Dancing Horses which created real currents of delight. This was the perfect end to the first part. By the time the final chorus had rolled around, the crowd was abuzz with the same hopeful spirit that probably gripped them when they first heard the track almost 40 years prior.
After a brief interval, the wait for the main event was finally over. Ocean Rain is an album full of intricacies. Equally charming and haunting, it is an intensely spiritual piece with a dreamlike hold over the listener. To recreate the beauty of the album onstage truly was a thing of magic. In perfect unison, the strum of a guitar and echoing strings of opening track Silver brought the night into perfect alignment. McCulloch pierced through the sound with first lines “swung from a chandelier” and everything flowed from there.
"Equally charming and haunting, it is an intensely spiritual piece with a dreamlike hold over the listener."
Nocturnal Me is a song that’s always struck me as a contrast to the rest of the album. It’s gentle inflections give the track a certain elegance. Yet this elegance becomes tainted by an even deeper sense of foreboding and claustrophobia, a sense which was only amplified in the hall. Climbing to thrilling peaks, the string section slithered through the stalls, all the way to the balconies and back down again. In that moment it was a song that wanted to be heard.
McCulloch held an unwavering presence on stage. He rarely moved from his position at front and centre of the stage, yet this dark silhouette contained such swagger and assurance it was hard not to soak up the attention of everybody in the room. Always ensuring the crowd were humoured with various (just about) coherent mumblings, before long we found ourselves being introduced to The Yo Yo Man- the frontman couldn’t shed light on who he is exactly, but he’s a “bouncy fella” by all accounts.
Soon the Bunnymen were picking up the pace with Thorn of Crowns. McCulloch’s strained screeches reverberated around the hall whilst lush staccato strings launched an attack, lurching forth from the stage, demanding full attention. The next track needed no introduction. The Killing Moon is a towering thing, the gleaming beacon atop this mountain of an album. The complex layers weaving through the track are endless, but to hear this song live brought something new entirely. It’s sinister sheen was brought alive in the packed venue, every member of the audience gripped in ecstasy. It was poetry in motion. Final track Ocean Rain holds everything. The instrumentation is soft, but the core of it runs strong. For an album closer it sometimes doesn’t get the credit it deserves, but here it was greeted with a warm embrace.
"It’s sinister sheen was brought alive in the packed venue, every member of the audience gripped in ecstasy."
Swiftly the band exit the stage, as do the orchestra. A rapturous applause ensues, the audience making earnest appeals for one last song. The soon clamour began to die out, everybody losing hope until finally the audience’s pleas were met. Cue another round of thunderous applause and the Bunnymen were once again rolling through another tune- an extended version of Lips Like Sugar at that! But it was the second encore that really got the crowd moving. Roaring onstage for one final time, the band went forth straight into The Cutter. This anthemic track off their 1983 album Porcupine possesses a parading confidence to equally match McCulloch’s own swagger. Wailing guitars, guttural percussion and sharp vocals, the song grew and grew until finally cacophony. It was the perfect goodbye.
Echo & the Bunnymen poured their all into the evening and emerged with the best results. To recreate the essence of arguably their strongest collection of work from Ocean Rain along with numerous unbeatable tracks on the side was in itself an achievement. But to do it with such grace and emotion demonstrates they really do still have it all. If you get the chance, please do catch them while you can.
Alice Beard
Edited by Tabitha Smith
Featured Image courtsey of Echo and the Bunnymen via Facebook
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