The Forum is cavernously large as we enter. We’re early, as are a gaggle of men and women in their 40s crowded around the stage in a semi-circle.They’re here for Severed Heads, in a rare performance by the retiring act, and Tom Ellard – the main man behind the guillotined effigy – doesn’t disappoint.
Ellard is chatty, cheerful from the moment he emerges. He introduces Stewart (Lawler, from Boxcar, on keyboards) teasing that “He won’t stop tweeting” and proceeds to cajole the computers to commence. On screen, because this is the true synergy of Severed Heads – a revolving cog of fists revolves in time to a strong pulse of dance beats, and Lawler joins in with almost happy hardcore-esque piano. There is certainly something of Cabaret Voltaire in there. The visuals are mesmerising, and Ellard’s dulcet singing atop creates the Pavlovian encounter that is Severed Heads. The visuals are now these fantastic male torsos walking on the spot with bizarre alchemical heads – anatomical illustrations of cat or dog faces. It is very masculine, phallic even, with pumping columns and machinery.
The next song starts with ‘Pilots Hate You’ a fantastic and indelible video of plastic pilots with uncomfortable smiles, seen in all the major locations around the world, taunting you with their postcard perfect slideshow. Ellard is a very cute performer. He pops back and forth behind his desk of contraptions with youthful momentum and a delighted explorative quality. He bobbed down to a squat at one point, holding a flat keyboard comprised of many neon green and orange squares create bizarre atonal electronic flourishes to his own cues from the visuals on screen.
A much larger crowd had amassed by this time, and the entire pit of the Forum was now full as people came closer to the witness the synthesis of the music and its visual interplay. Some of the images on screen were so unique and lyrical that you coveted them – human figures with cars firmly placed over their heads – only the mouth and chin could be seen below the bumper, scenes of a colourful car-man dancing in a glowing cube. This video and track ended in a noir murder scene viewed from above, car woman lies dead in a pool of blood, high heel struck out at the perfect angle.
There is something to be said for the editing of these images and the impeccable correlation with the music. The brutal image of a man in a welding mask with metal rods through this arms and legs forcing him to walk perpetually fits perfectly with the driving, dirty basslines and his movements are synced at just the right pace.
When interviewed last week, Tom Ellard had said the visuals ought to be considered as an extension of the music, that the whole experience is one of music. The repeated use of dancing figures in his video work is interesting when viewed through that lens, because dance is the natural bodily response to music and rhythm. Severed Heads are essentially creating a form of dance music – layered, unexpected, unique dance music – but with a Dad vocal that somehow fits perfectly with the anomaly that is Severed Heads.
He took photos of the crowd which brought home the fact that this is their last show, their last tour of a leaky boat that Ellard wants to steer no longer. He played ‘Dead Eyes Opened’ as their last track, whilst a heart beat on a pinball machine in the visuals behind Ellard and Lawler. The now rather densely packed audience loved it, with fist pumps and caterwauls of delight reserved for the song that most people know as their chart hit from 1984.
While devoting perhaps too much time to Severed Heads’ last ever show, the real big ticket item was of course Gary Numan. Gary was centre stage behind a synth and flanked by two other keyboard/synths and the bass player. Behind was their drummer.
It was young Gary above and present Gary below, with the Pleasure Principle album image projected overhead – and he sung the songs well, still as nasally vital and enunciated as ever. The crowd was enthusiastic, this was who they were here to see. It was clear that the rising scale synth play and Numan’s man meets machine lyrics held a nostalgic glory for many – people had hand dances that fit the music and Numan’s adenoidal “We were so wrong” from M.E. and clearly delighted the crowd seeing these classic songs live.
Column light towers gave the crowd temporary myxomatosis (in the Radio-headlight sense) while Numan and his band emitted their soaring machine swan song, or the perfect space exploration soundtrack.
People were really feeling Numan, and his skill in taking excessive synth normally reserved for elevators to give it a satisfying tonal cadence and thereby quenching a thirst you might not have known you had, feeding it through guitar pedals to render it more malleable. That said, there’s a lot to being a fan of synth when used well, and Gary Numan certainly tamed it in a memorable and distinctive way in the earlier stages of his career.
‘Cars’ was obviously a highlight, as one of the better known tracks, but the band filed off stage and after a short pause Industrial Dad came out and launched into his dynamic dance moves which include the mic stand pivot, crucifixion re-enactment and rising sun arm wave specialities which he is known for.
The band comes alive, you can tell that these songs are ones they actually want to play. This is Gary NuMetal (thanks to Morgan for this moniker) after all, Industrial master of the dark arts – and people seem to be digging it too. It’s definitely not a Reznorish crowd, indeed you wonder if most of them were there for the classic songs they grew up with, but nonetheless the crowd seems to love it.
Distorted reverb basslines, session precision drumming and spoken word dark whispers denotes a shift from the late seventies sound. Lyric content has shifted from lonely human machine immortality to themes of life and death and love.
Chainsaw riffs, Metal-strict bass battery churns and a balsa wood quality to synth pipes out as Numan cock blocks the mic stand and performs his callisthenic moves. He launches into ‘Are Friends Electric’ off arguably his best album as Tubeway Army; Replicas, and the crowd goes nuts, they might not mind Industrial Gary, but you get the sense they are more at home with electro Gary.
– Anaya Latter
