PLACEBO / DEUS / AC ACOUSTICS
Wolverhampton Civic Hall
For a bunch of elusive chancers, the AC Acoustics are a bit bloody good. It seems to me that the only reason this crowd isn’t going mental for the exquisitely tempered noise-pop of this lot is that you really cannot buy AC Acoustics records. Maybe they will be going mental when the new album finally sees the light of day. Meanwhile, the Scots get about the best reception ever for the ‘third band on the bill headlined by a top ten act’.
So, before Placebo arrive to justify their newly achieved minor rock deities status, we encounter a newly expanded Deus. They seem to have grown a percussionist / keyboardist bloke (who is apparently called Pete) who has fleshed out the already full sound to the point of delirium. Tonight they pull off a storming set with some fantastic songs including new tune ‘Sam Peckinpah’ which is rather fantastic - featuring a marvellous vocal exchange between Tom and Craig, crazy percussion interplay and a wicked sporadic bass line. This song only reinforces the impression that Deus are expanding in more senses than physical numbers. Their music is moving into ever more daring and diverse territory - the live set verging on freeform - yet the songs are always somehow inherently rooted in the cleverest pop music. Every groove, every distorted vocal wraps itself around the perfect hook - be it from guitar, keyboard or violin. ‘Suds and Soda’ provides jumping around material before the crowd settles back down to have their musical senses expanded by one of the highlights of the entire evening. This is a rendition of ‘Theme From Turnpike’ which is nothing short of breathtaking, although it only just outdoes the drawn out wonder of the perfect set ending ‘Roses’. Tonight Deus are on fire and I’m left to hope that Placebo are as good as everyone claims.
For the first few songs, I’m starting to wonder - they look the part and they make the moves but the spark is missing. The crowd is enjoying it but until the decidedly rough ’36 Degrees’ is neatly stepped over with a couple of blistering new tunes, the necessary kick in the balls had not arrived for me. After this I’m taken aback as ‘Bruise Pristine’ grasps me warmly by the throat to give me a friendly shake and then I’m sold. Energy, wit and intelligence mean that the rock is rolling and by the time ‘Nancy Boy’ crashes the set to an end I’m completely enthralled and left wondering exactly how good the next record might be. The encores serve only to emphasise the diversity of the Placebo sound with the wrenching near ballad of ‘Burger Queen’ followed by an almost prog guitar jam out that is alternately astonishing and baffling. All in all, a masterful display that shows a band unconcerned with the image that has served so well this far to sell them. Herein onwards, I suspect that the music is paramount and that Placebo could quite possibly do a Radiohead and suckerpunch us with a definitive moment in guitar pop history.
