Last year, Jason Pierce, leader of Spiritualized and once part of Spacemen
3, was hospitalised with periorbital cellulitis and bilateral pneumonia which almost
killed him. Looking his usual gloomy self as he shuffled on, with his mumbled
"thank you" in acknowledgement of the rapturous applause of several hundred seated
worshippers, and sitting, as always, at a bashful ninety degrees to the audience and
off-centre stage, it was hard to tell.
Having had what audience remained supercooled by support act Lupen Crook, a talented twelve-string guitarist who produced music
that could be best described either as Tourettes Folk or Suicidal Soul, Pierce had
little to do but lean into the microphone and sing the words of manchild Daniel
Johnston to have the audience's collective heart beating with ecstatic affection.
The last time I saw Spiritualized, Pierce was, as far as I could tell, broke.
Sure, he had the light show, but it seemed to me that, having been dropped by Arista
after the brilliant but commercially unsuccessful Let It Come Down and being reduced to
recording a patchy rock n' roll record, Amazing Grace, the days of performing with
the classical and gospel accompaniments that filled places like the Royal Albert Hall
with magic were over for good.
However, the early signs are that Pierce is rebuilding,and in this first stage, joined on acoustic guitar by a string quartet, a three-voice
gospel choir and a solitary Fender Rhodes, he restored some of the glorious fragility of
his past outings to the obvious pleasure of all.
Pierce is at his best when his cracked, repenter's monotone that yearns for
salvation, mingles with its platonic version - the gospel singers and the baroque trance
of the stringed instruments. Thus, this "Acoustic Mainline" presentation, while not
necessarily showcasing all his best work, was the most satisfying version of
Spiritualized that does not bear its name for a few years. A superb version of
Spacemen 3's Hey Man, Ladies and Gentlemen... (with that "banned"
lyric) and what sounds very much like a new song, Soul on Fire, reminded everyone how
good our modern-day Robert Johnson can sound.
I have a worry, however. I worry that his forthcoming album is going to repeat the
mistake of his last, where he seemed to have run out of ideas. On Amazing Grace, gone
was the witty, poignant lyricism of previous work (the ideal-real call-response of Think
I'm in Love a shining example), swapped with unimaginative rhyming couplets, often the
sign of an exhausted imagination (see Lord Let It Rain On Me for details).
My fear is founded in Pierce's refusal to stop playing the sinner in music while
apparently cleaning up in every other area of his life. It gets harder to believe that
"little J's a fucked boy" when he's pushing 40 and married with a kid. Even Johnny
Cash managed to cheer up and clean up for a bit, although whether we want Pierce
hosting variety shows on national TV is another matter.
While we wouldn't want him to lose his muse like Lennon, besotted by wife and child, he seems to be hanging on to a public image that is increasingly divorced from reality - and this may be why his
work has suffered.
For tonight, though, with this beautiful performance, I'm prepared to forgive and have
faith. We all like our heroes to stay the same, but he's not a soap-opera character - and
there is always the question of whether he's ever going to own up to having been
redeemed. When he closes, as he so often does, with O Happy Day, you never
quite believe him, and maybe that's the point.
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