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MOODY BLUES
London O2 Arena, 25 September 2010

Photos by Lee Millward/GRTR!

'Ladies and gentlemen, will you please welcome ...The Moody Blues!!' Thus spake the voiceover heralding another night in the company of the West Midlands overlords.

Bit of a cheek though - they get you all excited with the intro to 'In The Beginning', making you think they're about to open with 'Lovely To See You', then plunge headlong into 80sness before you've even sat down with 'The Voice'.  Fair enough, it is one of their better post-Pinder efforts, from the admittedly excellent Long Distance Voyager, and a pretty rousing opener - just a shame that lately they've taken to cutting the last verse and chorus (i.e. the best bit) out. Whether this is due to going on late, conserving their voices or having to create space in the set for some 'treats' remains unclear, but I don't think anyone noticed.

Immediately following this with the climactic 'The Day We Meet Again' - one of the finest three songs Justin Hayward ever wrote - so early on in the set, throws me at first, but remembering that this is the name of the tour this time round puts it into perspective, and once in full flight (thankfully unabridged, unchanged and still as beautiful as ever) it makes perfect sense.

Hayward looks brilliant too - the blow-wave and frilly blouse are gone, replaced by a long, straight bob of blond hair and plain white hoopneck tee, topped off by blue flared denim and suede cowboys, and even John Lodge has done something about his rather unbecoming perm and returned to his '73 vintage, clad in black T-shirt and jeans rather than the leathers which have blighted some previous shows. Someone must have told them.

Unfortunately, the keyboard player looks like the bloke who sang 'Doop' and spends most of the evening throwing the most ludicrously theatrical shapes - fine if you're in Malmsteen's Rising Force, but not befitting of a noble band such as this, especially when you consider he stands where the genius that was Mike Pinder once let forth his lost chords of Mellotronic doom and widdly maestro Patrick Moraz navigated cruise control.

And yes, I do miss having a real 'tron on stage- especially when you consider that Barclay James Harvest tour on a budget a quarter of this size and they still use one.

But I'll give the boy credit, his synth-duplication of Hayward's solo on 'Driftwood' (another song I was pleased to hear for the first time in ages) is spot on, although you wonder why J-Hay (as he shall henceforth never be referred to by anyone) couldn't just switch from electric to acoustic and done it himself. 

He's definitely more than capable, even if he's long forsaken much of his trademark fuzz for a cleaner, more processed sound - and seeing him and Lodge together reminds me once more just how perfect (and underrated) as guitarist and bass-player they really are. Admittedly, maybe not on the levels of a Gilmour or Entwistle - the Moodies' music was never about that anyway - but as near as dammit.

Yet mine is not to reason why, mine is just to swoon and sigh - and that I do, as the timeless mysticism of 'Never Comes The Day', 'Tuesday Afternoon', 'Gypsy' (from my personal favourite album, To Our Children's Children's Children) and (bugger me with a fishfork!! I didn't expect THAT!!) 'Peak Hour' - sounding exactly as lean and mean as it must have done back in '67, with Justin on 'full twang' - enter our cosmic spheres.

Forgive the pretentious hippyspeak, but there's no other way to truly describe how transcendental this band are when they're on form, or how they can make a lyric which would sound trite in the hands of anyone else seem perfectly credible.

At very much the opposite end of the rainbow, there's no way to describe how cringingly bad some of their 80s and 90s material can be - 'Lean On Me Tonight', from their worst album Keys To The Kingdom, still sounds like Chris De Burgh trying to master reggae chops down the local variety theatre, and shouldn't be encouraged, especially when follow-up album Strange Times contained some worthy tunes, while 'I Know You're Out There Somewhere' (can this really be the same song I sang on my paper round when my brother had already discovered Mudhoney? I deserve a slap) remains the definition of soporific MOR-rock. Thankfully, the simply shredding 'Story In Your Eyes' follows and puts things back on track. From the ridiculous to the sublime…

They must be aware of some of their wrong-footings, though - why else would they not show the actually-quite-good video to 'Your Wildest Dreams' (starring 80s psych revivalists Mood 6 as the young Moodies) as a back-projection, yet still inflict the sub-Mad-Max, sub-After-Hours, let's-dress-the-flautist-up-as-a-gay-biker horrors of the Other Side Of Life promo on us during said song, unless with a wry and knowing smile? They must be being ironic, surely?

Not that the blue-rinsers who constitute 50 percent of the audience (prog and psych-heads seeming thinner on the ground every year) seem to mind - in fact, they love it, dancing to and fro and shaking glow sticks about, causing the front row to resemble some nightmarish vision of your Mum and your aunts secretly following you to an Ozric Tentacles gig straight after a PTA meeting. Shudder.

But we are STILL in the presence of greatness, reinforced by the incalculably beautiful Are You Sitting Comfortably? Flautist and harmony vocalist Norda Mullen really dazzles here, nearly filling the hole left in 2003 by Ray Thomas, but I still won't be satisfied until she straps on a false moustache and sings Legend Of A Mind.

I held vain hopes that he and Mike Pinder would return for some shows on this, the 45th anniversary of the band's recording career - otherwise why would they have booked a venue they clearly can't fill?- but sadly ‘twas not to be.

Maybe in 2012 when they've turned 70 and Days Of Future Passed is actually 45 years old? We still have Graeme Edge, though, whose drumming, recitations of 'Higher And Higher' and 'Late Lament', self-deprecating humour ('back in '69, when my hair was brown and my teeth were white, instead of the other way round') and improvised dance steps, though veering slightly towards cabaret, are a highlight.

And Justin is still one of the most peerless vocalists to walk the earth - at 64 he can still sing the pants off most young pretenders, even delivering 150 percent on a song like 'Nights…..' which you'd think he'd be sick of by now. Obviously not.

This, along with 'I'm Just A Singer', 'Question' (more magic fretwork from Mr Lodge) and the inevitable 'Ride My See Saw' (Justin back on Telecaster) comprises the finale - yes, I would have orgasmed had they played 'Tortoise And The Hare' or 'The Balance', if only to convince me I was in a park strewn with flowergirls circa 1970 and not in a grey aircraft hangar built in 1999 by squandering public money, but you can't have everything.

I'm just grateful that in 2010, the Moody Blues, who officially formed 48 years ago, are still here, still energetic, and looking unlikely to stop anytime soon.

Whether their tightarsed record company will stump up the money for a new studio album remains to be seen, but you can bet we'll still be listening to them long after their children's children's children have drawn their pensions. As the song says, 'Just open your eyes, and realise the way it's always been'.

SET LIST: The Voice/ The Day We Meet Again/ Steppin' In A Slide Zone/ Gypsy/ Tuesday Afternoon/ Lean On Me Tonight/ Never Comes The Day/ Peak Hour/ I Know You're Out There Somewhere/ The Story In Your Eyes (INTERVAL) Your Wildest Dreams/ The Other Side Of Life/ Isn't Life Strange/ Driftwood/ Higher And Higher/ Are You Sitting Comfortably?/ I'm Just A Singer In A Rock And Roll Band/ Late Lament/ Nights In White Satin/ Question/ Ride My See Saw

Review  by Darius Drewe Shimon

Photos by Lee Millward/GRTR!