Wembley Arena London
Melody Maker 29th September 1990
WHAT exactly is so offensive about Deacon Blue? Could it be Ricky Ross' mindless
Bruce Springsteen impersonations, or Lorraine Mackintosh's gimpy dancing?
Tonight, their squeaky clean machine is in danger of falling off the rails.
They sound washed out by their two previous shows, and those characteristic
whoops are hollow and hoarse. But things start well. Ross tells us, "sometimes
I feel just like Dusty springfield," before the wondrous "Chocolate Girl".
Here, they get it right. It's a dreamy cocktail of soul and rock, punctuated
with punchy brass, laced with a haunting melody. But "I'll Never Fall In
Love Again" is so appallingly twee you want to run on stage and flay the
lot of them.
Every time there's a quiet moment in a song, the two singers stare dreamily
at each other, bringing excited squeals from the mass of accountants and
bespectacled bozos that populate the Arena. This is a big part of Deacon
Blue's appeal . Rather than singing about boy meets girl, they act it out
on stage. "When Will You Make My Telephone Ring?" is a fine example of this
public romance. it also highlights their slightly new direction - jazzy with
a slice of funk. surprisingly, Ross' breathy, blues voice manages to cope.
After a socialist rant set to music, Deacon Blue move into their "music for
BBC dramas" phase. Without even a chorus to hang on to, "Let Your Hearts
Be Troubled", written for the new William Mcilvanney play, is mind-numbing
tosh. A shock soul version of "Hard Day's Night 'goes some way to redress
the balance. Deacon Blue are nice to the point of nausea. On such a big stage
they seem totally unreal, and their hapless musicians look disinterested
and in need of a stiff drink. After two hours, all they leave you with is
an overriding sense of nothingness, like opening a gift wrapped box to find
it empty inside. And that's what's so offensive about Deacon Blue.
Zane