Roxy Music Concert Review
ExCeL centre, London, 22nd July 2006
David Sinclair
The Times 24th July 2006
Roxy Music
Three Stars out of Five
A CONVERTED car park next to the main ExCel auditorium in Docklands, East London, might seem an odd place for Roxy Music to play their only show in Britain this year. But the idea of staging a season of rock concerts as an adjunct to this year's British International Motor Show seems to have struck a chord. The 5,000 or so fans, who had earlier been eying up the latest models, were clearly in the market for music of a considerably older vintage as they gathered under an ominously cloudy sky on Saturday evening. They were rewarded with a hardcore heritage show by a band that was once the last word in design cool. Like The Who, Roxy Music have reached an age and stage where a proper, full-time creative reunion suddenly seems an attractive proposition. They have been writing and working in the studio with Brian Eno, their founder member, and the group is planning to release a new album next year, its first since Avalon in 1982. However, with no new songs and certainly no Eno in evidence, this show was basically another holding operation. Arriving on stage in a swirl of expensive suits, they swept into an opening salvo of Re-make/Re-model, Pyjamarama and Ladytron, three of their oldest and best-loved songs, which quickly settled the nerves of band and fans alike. Bryan Ferry, resplendent in a black jacket that gleamed like the skin of an otter, started off behind an electric keyboard at the side, but quickly gravitated to his natural location centre stage. He was flanked by guitarist Phil Manzanera and saxophonist Andy McKay, with Andy Newmark behind, sitting in on drums for Paul Thompson, who was absent due to health problems. A large cast of ancillary musicians filled out the sound and stage. The mood became more reflective as a long piano intro led into A Song for Europe, and the pace meandered as Ferry gave a rather weary account of the ballad My Only Love. "There's a river flowing/ By a willow tree/ When you find you're there/ Remember me," he sang, with that familiar quiver in his voice. But his glib delivery made it hard to gauge his level of commitment to this, or indeed any of the songs. The pulse of the show dropped to a virtual standstill during Avalon, and was only partly revived by Ferry's poignant whistling routine in Jealous Guy. But a closing broadside of Do the Strand, Love is the Drug and Virginia Plain re-ignited their enthusiasm, before a final blast of Let's Stick Together brought the curtain down on an evening rich in nostalgia, but lacking in fire and enterprise.
