Public Service Broadcasting: Gang of clones surprisingly affecting

Much of the set felt oddly mournful, if undoubtedly marked with hope, says David Ellis
Not your average rockers: Public Service Broadcasting
David Ellis @dvh_ellis20 November 2017

There can’t be many bands in the world who use the late Richard Burton as their hype man.

To the strains of the great Welshman intoning about the dark and damp and death of coal mining, alternative electronic duo Public Service Broadcasting met the stage with a gang of tour clones, all Oxford shirted and eyes outlined with thick rimmed glasses, looking like a group of map-reading enthusiasts who'd had guitars thrust upon them. Crammed up there with them sat two mining wheels, turning in smoke. Perhaps they’re too young to have seen Spinal Tap.

Then the music: from the off, great cinematic swells of guitars and throbbing drums, keyboards shimmering and the bass, when used, slipping into the cracks on the Electric Ballroom floor, making the place hum.

'They met the stage with a gang of tour clones, all Oxford shirted and eyes outlined with thick rimmed glasses, looking like a group of map-reading enthusiasts who'd had guitars thrust upon them'

The band’s gimmick – no singing, just the crackling of voices from old public information videos – was made more compelling with flickering video shining a pale light behind them: we watched as the hard-done-by struggled through the numbing drudgery of everyday life. The crescendos which built often made much of what was seen and heard strangely affecting: mostly, the set felt oddly mournful, if undoubtedly marked with hope.

Not all of it, though: while it was never going to be a gig to dance to, heads bopped and bodies moved as the set moved through the woozy The Other Side, the snare-cracking Go! (still sounding a bit Beverly Hills Cop live) and the new They Gave Me a Lamp. They were aided by first rate sound throughout: the old voices and Welsh accents sounded out crystal clear, the horns that joined for a few songs rang out over the mix. The show was a role-call of guitars: Telecasters, Strats, Rickenbackers, the works, all the heart of the songs and riding the breaking waves of drum beats. There was more virtuosity when the banjos were brought out.

The audience had a sense of geeky camaraderie. People moved to let others see. They cheered as bandleader J. Willgoose, Esq. quietly, ever so politely, said hello. There wasn’t much chat otherwise, but seemingly a knowing bond between artist and band, a shared feeling of all being jolly nice. Well, mostly. “Are you a runner?” one kindly faced man said to me as he jogged along to Progress, “Great song for running, this. You look like a runner.” Never been so insulted in my life.

For more information, visit publicservicebroadcasting.net

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