Chris Rea - Olympiahalle Munich 23rd February 2010
Setlist: I Can't Wait For Love / Work Gang / Where The Blues Come From / Josephine / Easy Rider / Til The Morning Sun Shines On My Love and Me / Looking For The Summer / Julia / Stony Road / Electric Guitar / Come So Far, Yet Still So Far To Go / Somewhere Between Highway 61 and 49 / Stainsby Girls / The Road to Hell // On The Beach / Let's Dance
Years ago, someone told me to never make yourself appear stupid in anything you write. For the most part I have adhered to that rule (although I have been accused of going in the opposite direction, trying to make other people feel stupid by using too many ‘big words’ - but that is a rant for another time). Anyway, I am about to break that cardinal rule, right here, right now. It is official. I am an idiot. There, I said it. It’s out there in cyberspace. Type ‘Dumbass’ into Wikipedia and my picture will come up.
So, why the sudden revelation? It is the only reason I can think of for what happened last night, that’s all. No, I haven’t been drinking. Well, I have, otherwise I would dehydrate, but not alcohol, only tea.
So, why the sudden revelation? It is the only reason I can think of for what happened last night, that’s all. No, I haven’t been drinking. Well, I have, otherwise I would dehydrate, but not alcohol, only tea.
You see, I bought the ticket for Chris Rea some months back. A friend said that she wanted to go but had no one to go with, as none of her friends fancied it. Thinking it would be nice mainstream AOR, chilled and laid back, no need to take photos, write a review, or do anything other than mention that I’d been and it was enjoyable, I said that I would go. It was live music, after all, and not as though it was something horrendous, like Boyz One. It all seemed simple enough…
Before last night, I knew, roughly, three things about Chris Rea:
Before last night, I knew, roughly, three things about Chris Rea:
- When I was younger, my parents owned a small Bed and Breakfast in Harrogate, North Yorkshire. Sometime in the late ‘70s, for a couple of years in succession, we had two old ladies who came to stay with us for a week or two. One of them always said that she was Chris Rea’s Grandmother. I never questioned it. Why would she make it up?
- He is from Middlesborough, he likes racing cars, preferably red ones, and he nearly died from Pancreatitis earlier this Century.
- Musically, he has a fantastic voice, but for me, his tunes always seemed a little lightweight. Stainsby Girls, On The Beach, Auberge, Let’s Dance, pleasant enough, but not exactly going to make your ears bleed. I never really paid him much attention. Other than acknowledging his existence, maybe I would hear one of his songs on the Terry Wogan show, as I drove down the M40, every now and then.
Two hours before the gig, I was completely non-plussed about it all. I just figured it would be a nice evening out. Coming right on the heels of the outstanding Dave Matthews Band concert last Saturday, this gig held no mystery for me, I had no expectations, I was even prepared for boredom. In fact, whereas with the Ace Frehley gig last December, when I had actually expected him to be crap, with Chris Rea, I was just expecting him to be inoffensive, pleasant, a little easy-listening even. I shall henceforth term what happened last night ‘The Ace Frehley Effect’.
The gig started off, pretty much on schedule with Paul Casey, a pleasant Irish chap and a guitarist in Chris’s band, taking to the stage to play a few numbers on acoustic guitar. Nothing to set the Thames on fire, but hardly unpleasant. A quick stage changeover followed, a little Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac came over the PA then, the house lights, which had been rudely switched on to full Klieg intensity after Casey’s set, went out just as quickly. Rea and his band ambled onto the stage.
The gig started off, pretty much on schedule with Paul Casey, a pleasant Irish chap and a guitarist in Chris’s band, taking to the stage to play a few numbers on acoustic guitar. Nothing to set the Thames on fire, but hardly unpleasant. A quick stage changeover followed, a little Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac came over the PA then, the house lights, which had been rudely switched on to full Klieg intensity after Casey’s set, went out just as quickly. Rea and his band ambled onto the stage.
I am sure that my face was a picture as Rea began by playing some of the best slide guitar I have ever heard. I do not say this lightly. I am a bit of a slide guitar junkie and have seen some pretty damn good players over the years, and I know great slide guitar when I hear it, and this was as good as it gets. How could I have not known that this guy was this good? Why did I not know about this?! QED. I must be an idiot.
In my defence, Rea had simply never come up on my radar, other than with his popular chart material, as heard on Radio 2. As much as I was enjoying the songs and the performance, and I surely was, none of the songs he played before Stainsby Girls, with the exception of Josephine, even struck a chord with me (pun intended). I have to admit that the only songs I could have recognised, had I been given a quiz before being allowed in, were the last two of the main set, and the two encores. He didn’t even play Auberge, the one song of his that I would have put money on him playing.
In my defence, Rea had simply never come up on my radar, other than with his popular chart material, as heard on Radio 2. As much as I was enjoying the songs and the performance, and I surely was, none of the songs he played before Stainsby Girls, with the exception of Josephine, even struck a chord with me (pun intended). I have to admit that the only songs I could have recognised, had I been given a quiz before being allowed in, were the last two of the main set, and the two encores. He didn’t even play Auberge, the one song of his that I would have put money on him playing.
The Ace Frehley Effect kicked me squarely in the nuts last night, and I am overjoyed about it. Going along to a gig and being so surprised that you immediately go home and start to find out more about the artist who has just blown your socks off, is a great feeling. In the past, my knowledge of rock music has been described as ‘encyclopaedic’ and, in some areas, I suppose it is. As far as Chris Rea is concerned, I have discovered a rich and exciting back catalogue of 30 years worth of material that I need to track down, listen to, evaluate, and enjoy. It is so nice to know that, even with just short of 45,000 songs in my MeTunes library, there is still something new [to me] out there to discover.
What I did learn, surfing the InterWeb at 1AM this morning, was that Rea did almost die a few years back, and was given a 50:50 chance of survival. During his recovery, he realised what was important to him. He vowed that if he recovered, he would return to his roots and play The Blues. This is what he has been doing for the last few years, and what he did, in Munich, last night. He does it exceptionally well.
What I did learn, surfing the InterWeb at 1AM this morning, was that Rea did almost die a few years back, and was given a 50:50 chance of survival. During his recovery, he realised what was important to him. He vowed that if he recovered, he would return to his roots and play The Blues. This is what he has been doing for the last few years, and what he did, in Munich, last night. He does it exceptionally well.
If, like me, you enjoy listening to superb musicians playing Blues to die for, go along and see Chris Rea. He is on the last leg of his European Tour now, and will be in the UK in March. The thing is that he so gobsmacked me, I may have to rename this phenomenon ‘The Chris Rea Effect’.
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
24th February 2010
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
24th February 2010
