Chart veterans kept Dignity until end as fans pleaded for more
I have to admit, when I originally heard Deacon Blue’s first top 20 hit “Dignity” back in 1988 I thought the lyrics were a bit twee.
My simplistic interpretation was that it was just about a workingclass bloke in an ordinary job saving up his cash with the ambition of buying himself a dinghy, calling it Dignity and sailing into the sunset. It was much more than that, as I should have guessed with its reference to economist John Maynard Keynes, a name check one of their contemporaries, Spandau Ballet, probably never considered.
Still, to cut a long story short, we’re all older and wiser and the message of Dignity – of thinking about home, faith and work – is emblazoned on the T-shirt of a portly fan of the Scottish group standing expectantly a few rows in front of me, one among around 2,000 fans at a packed City Hall in surrounded by fans, dewy-eyed in their fervour and, sadly, word perfect in their recall of the lyrics of the band’s string of hits.
The guy behind me sang with the tuneless abandon of a donkey having its prostate examined by someone who’d never had their finger nails cut.
I could have got mad but he was twice the size of me and, anyway, the mood was joyous not aggressive. Instead, using a bit of mental resource I managed to zone him out.
There was quite a back catalogue to go through. Chocolate Girl, Real Gone Kid, Wages Day, Twist and Shout, a few among many. Ross himself is an excellent front man – a good story teller with great stage presence.
The band is a tight unit, including original members James Prime (keyboards) and Dougie Vipond (drums). Also from the original group is Ross’s wife and vocalist Lorraine McIntosh, an energetic performer boasting a powerful voice. Occasionally it was a little too powerful for my tastes and maybe she could have turn the dial down to five from 10, but the harmonies are part of what made Deacon Blue so distinctive and she was evidently enjoying herself.
After and a very quick feeling hour and three quarters the band was bidding a fond farewell. But nobody was fooled.
After much foot stomping and cheering they returned for a fivesong encore set, including Dignity, the beginning somewhat spoiled for me as Ross allowed the crowd to take the vocal lead, an offer taken up by no one more fervently than prostate singer behind me. It included the classic Fergus Sings The Blues and ended, a bit surprisingly, with a singalong of Levis Pesley’s “Always on My Mind”. Why the hell not, I decided.
It was the end of a memorable gig that will live long in the memory of all those who attended.