Six words to strike terror into the hearts of fans of any reformed rock act: “Here’s one from our new album”.
Actually, strike that. The 60s legends fronted by Peter Hammill have TWO collections of new material written since the band last visited Glasgow in 2005 – 2008’s Trisector, and the brand new A Grounding In Numbers. A lot of catching up to do, then.
It was this same venue the band played six years ago, but then with only post-reformation album Present on the go, they opted for a selection of golden oldies from their 35-year career, with just a couple of new tunes. This time it was to be different.
Even the setup is distinct from before – drummer Guy Evans is stage centre with Hugh Banton and Peter Hammill, facing each other on dual keyboard setups. The first audience heckle: “Where’s the saxophone?” goes unanswered (perhaps understandably; David Jackson’s split from the reformed band having been an acrimonious one).
They open with a pair of tracks from the two most recent albums – some classic balladeering on ‘Your Time Starts Now’ and the frenetic prog of ‘Interference Patterns’ – I am unfamiliar with both these releases, but perhaps aware of the clear split between the diehards who own the new material, and the rest of us i.e. the chicken-in-a-basket crowd there to hear the hits, Hammill helpfully announces each track title.
Then, he dons a guitar and announces ‘Lemmings’ via its towering riff. From 1971, it offers some hope that we will be getting a mix of old and new.
Sadly, for the next hour or so, the band instead concentrate on the post-reformation material. To be fair, the songs are still very much Van der Graaf – the next tune, from Triceptor, has a deliberately, almost defiantly jazzy and jumpy breakdown but then becomes a classically orchestrated swell of sound towards the end.
That kind of sets the pattern for much of the newer material – that chopping and changing of time signatures, jarring chords, but at the heart of each song a epic hook, delivered in emphatic vocal style by Hammill. Though newie ‘Mathematics’ is a sticky point, lyrically like a maths text book: “e to the power of pi minus one is zero” (I may have that wrong, I’ll leave you to work it out).
But one thing is clear – Hammill still has it, that indefinable presence, star quality, whatever. And it’s never more apparent than on the two numbers they choose to end on. He’s captivating on ‘Meruglys’, delivering his words like a lecturer – strike that, like a firebrand preacher in his pulpit. At this point the majority of the crowd are just pleased to hear something familiar – even if for this listener it’s taken from the weakest of albums, World Record. And the almost reggae coda with rather funky toe-tapping drumming can be forgiven.
To close, ‘Childlike Faith in Childhood’s End’ is another odd choice given the size of their back catalogue, but as the song reaches its climax and Hammill vents “In the death of mere humans life shall start!” we’re ready to forgive just about anything.