Mission Of Burma

It should have been revelatory performance; a glorious return to form for a band heralded in the eighties for their minimal yet wholly unorthodox style of indie-punk. A band revered in subterranean indie circles for their inventive incorporation of tape loops into their style, tape loops that are created from the guitar sounds onstage and manipulated by the band's 'x-factor' Martin Swope, a guy usually invisible to those in attendance. They’re a band who’ve been, not entirely undeservedly, granted ‘legendary’ status, despite releasing just one album, yet had received much interest thanks to Moby’s cover of That’s When I Reach For My Revolver, not to mention, more significantly, a whole chapter devoted to them in Michael Azzerad’s influential chronicle of the US indie underground in the eighties Our Band Could Be Your Life.

But, although it pains me to say it, the Mission of Burma that played tonight just didn’t live up to expectations generated through recent hype - built heavily since their reformation three years ago. Yes, I know you’re not supposed to ‘get’ them the first time you see them, or even the second. But for my first MoB live experience it was the sound that was letting them down the most. Weak and blurred it was just atrocious compared to the harsh, ear-splintering sound of The Constantines before them. Unleashing a bashful assortment of crashing distortion and tuneful dissonance their stage-storming performance was in stark contrast to the disappointing display that followed.

I mean, for a start, has vocalist guitarist Roger Miller completely banned the use of the venue's PA, thanks to his tinnitus? Sure his determination to play live is admirable but when their sound so patently suffers then surely their live sound should be re-evaluated. As for bassist/vocalist Clint Conley he was quite patently giving Ampeg a bad name for the sheer non-use of such stellar equipment. Only drummer Peter Precott was really raising the eyebrows, his energetic, drum-pounding rhythms valiantly breathing life into such a drab performance.

But maybe they’re right. To most of the middle-aged attendees tonight was a passionate accomplishment for a band that could’ve all-too-easily remained in the shadows of the limelight. For me, well, it’s just hard to see what all the fuss is about.