Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * * *

The Stranglers at the Liverpool Academy, March 2018. Photograph by Ian D. Hall

The next time the Beast from the East decides to make an appearance on Britain’s shores, the best form of defence against this cyclonic severe cold and snow would be to tap the resources of a room full of Stranglers fans and then allow the heat to pour out onto the streets in the surrounding areas; the cold of the last few weeks would not have stood a chance as they took in the sounds of a band still rightly considered, the definitive article.

Not that the cold has ever stood a chance of forming inside the o2 Academy in Liverpool, not when there is over 40 years worth of music to choose from, to select and whip into shape, to take to the sometimes wonderfully rabid fans, eager, occasionally a little too quick with the barbed witticisms, every now and then having to be taken down with one of the best stares in the business; but then it is forgotten, a snap retort, a bass line opened, and a grin of satisfaction that the heat took another turn. These are the nights in which Liverpool comes alive, it lives for its music and it only asks for it to be as live as possible.

The opening night of the Definitive Tour fell to Liverpool, an evening of pounding muscle, of songs that have thrilled fans across five decades, of a passion that has never seemed to wane or grow dim, this is the beauty of the band, naked aggression, unrelenting pressure, and even with the great Jet Black having finally seen out time as the keeper of the beat but still very in demand by the fans, the cymbals and the drum skin now in the canny hands of the master Jim Macauley, a sense of absolute responsibility and keenness still can be found as Baz Warne, J.J. Burnel and Dave Greenfield as they breathe dragon fire through tracks such as (Get A) Grip (On Yourself), 15 Steps, Nice ‘n’ Sleazy, Peaches, Golden Brown, Freedom Is Insane, Just Like Nothing on Earth, Norfolk Coast, Hanging Around and the unconditional surrender to their call, the frantic No More Heroes.

This was a night in which no salad could be found, this was full on double helping of English breakfast with all the trimmings, a set which strode like a colossus, that was as measured and paced accordingly, so live that the sign of a mistake barely registered and would not have mattered anyway; this was the raw and beautiful, the anger and the passionate and to kick start the 2018 tour off in such fashion, you can only hope you live long enough to witness such days again.

Ian D. Hall