Floatation master
Jason Pierce is back at the controls for the first time since the 2015 Ladies And Gentlemen shows. And relax, says Andrew Perry.
Spiritualized Hammersmith Apollo, London
HOUSTON, WE have a problem: how can the intrepid J Spaceman ever top Ladies And Gentlemen, We Are Floating In Space? It’s two decades-plus since Pierce cravenly sculpted that masterpiece from strings, brass, gospel choirs and a cooking rock’n’roll combo, to qualify as pop’s champion starsailing maximalist. Since, he has suffered ill health (double pneumonia, liver disease), disillusion and irregular productivity. Re-emerging from a six-year recording hiatus with last month’s And Nothing Hurt, Pierce explained how he was derailed this time by another universal adversary: austerity. While patching it together at home on his laptop, from parts recorded piecemeal in numerous studios, he downed tools for Ladies And Gentlemen shows in 2015, not just for the money, but the chance to perform with full armoury in one room. Taking his customary office chair stage-left for this one-off UK date, the boards are crammed with a 16-piece orchestra, a 10-strong gospel choir, and an amplified unit featuring a vigorous tympanist and (including himself) three electric guitarists. That army initially stands by as their commander alone picks out a poignant verse off 2003’s little-heralded Amazing Grace – “hold on, baby, to those you hold dear” – his everfragile drawl audibly a-quiver, hushing the expectant crowd, until Come Together erupts in a glorious fanfare, horns blaring, singers testifying, with supplementary chorale from all around the Hammersmith Apollo. Further selections from Spiritualized’s high-water mark – Stay With Me, its Spector-esque slo-mo beat crashing in midway; Broken Heart, violins teetering between elegy and anarchy – show a mastery of live arrangement only gradually acquired post-’97. But nobody is twiddling their thumbs for long: Pierce’s operation is now fully integrated, and gobsmackingly dynamic. Those initial flashbacks lead into a complete run-through of And Nothing Hurt, its song titles projected behind the musicians in Morse code. Rehearsals, presumably, were the first occasion at which these tunes had coalesced outside innerspace and their public unveiling here crackles with the relish and excitement of a debut, and the raw feelings that generated them. A Perfect Miracle opens, laying bare Pierce’s recent separation from the mother of his two kids, its weariness from relationship SNAFU (“I met someone else/You should do it yourself/… Please don’t call”) offset against starry-eyed orchestration. This, combined with recurrent themes of mortality (his mother passed away during recording), suggests there’s a hefty helping of irony in that title. In the flesh, And Nothing Hurt presents with compositional economy, allowing scant airspace for Ladies And GentlemenÉ’s free-form skronk, or repetition. I’m Your Man succinctly nails the excitement of courting anew with fabulous ramalama, Let’s Dance the ensuing romance in a delirious, violin-sawing swirl. The Morning After plunges into Velvets-y basement gloom (like a sax-beefed European Son!) before Sail On Through’s oceanic lope closes out with guarded optimism. Trimmed of the Hawkwind, Sun Ra and back-of-a-Rizlapacket wordplay, Pierce’s music suddenly feels ‘adult’, focused, wracked by existential worry. Ultimate triumph, in a joyously prolonged Oh Happy Day, resolves into another rueful reminder to cherish your loved ones – a spine-tingling finale to a quite magnificent show.