MUSIC

The Fleece, Bristol (17 Oct) For the man described as having crafted the “ultimate pop song” of the 1980s, connecting to a contemporary audience was always going to be an uphill struggle. And judging from the audience-of-a-certain-age that crowded into The Fleece last Monday, Roddy Frame’s battle to be current appeared to have been lost before he even left the back room.

“Where have you been, Roddy?” the anoraks in anoraks ask, with nobody wanting to know where he is going. Not that Frame minds, having also identified his slot as the opening of a neon-stripped time capsule, dipping into the back catalogue of his former band Aztec Camera and all but ignoring his extensive solo discography.

Accordingly, he has trouble blending the codes of the credible with a retro sound, the seismic bass and hard rock that he injects picked apart by sneaky synths, wind chimes and ‘Oh God, really?’ harmonicas.

There’s plenty to roll your eyes at here, though you’ll keep your composure for fear of doing anything to wipe that giddy smile from his face. Frame’s enthusiasm is palpable and his self-deprecating asides about “shit guitar solos” (though his masterful mashing in ‘Down The Dip’ is impressive enough) are likely to make even the skinniest of jeans crease as their wearers tap along to the next FM radio favourite, rooting for the little veteran-who-can. In fact it is when Frame pulls out ‘White Pony’ – the only song that he identifies as “new” – that this retrospective is put into perspective. Watching Frame dutifully stifle himself for this underplayed, drearily conservative track is undoubtedly the most depressing moment of a set already doomed to border on tragic. To be longing for the return of the Sunday drive atmosphere his sound evokes is unexpected, but there’s something comfortingly mellow in the archaic. New wave might not attract a new wave of fans as it’s all a little too steady and pleasant for adolescent ears, but nothing pleasant could ever be considered a waste of time.

Besides, Frame’s “little tour” is unashamedly designed for the grown-ups with kids and calendars, who have been there, done that, got responsibilities. The modern twists are a necessary courtesy to keep the young ’uns from getting cranky, but if you’re not roaring when he pulls out his 1987 mega-seller ‘Somewhere In My Heart’, you’re not meant to. (Daniel Sperling)

Copyright Daniel Sperling 2011; pic copyright Nancy J Price