Gomez

Nostalgia is a powerful thing. When it clings it’s hard to think of much else but going backwards, inside, away from right now. This is how Gomez feel tonight - forever trapped in what happened then. They've never reachieved the popularity gained post-Mercury Music Prize with Bring it On, and each album since has generally received lukewarm praise, forcing them to relocate across the pond - a territory that has only recently fallen in love with Gomez through their past two full lengths, Split The Difference and How We Operate. I love both those records. Each is a messy amalgam of blues, dirty pop and experimentation but, sadly, I'm in the minority.

In this sense, you can understand the quintet’s choice to relive those youthful glory days before attempting to release any new material to a UK audience. So here we are; in a packed Kentish Town Forum bumping uglies with people beside themselves with excitement to hear a ten-year-old album played in its entirety. And it is gripping. Get Cape, Wear Cape Fly is simply an obstacle, ignored for conversation as the crowd fills in every nook and cranny of the auditorium, waiting to end its ten year wait to hear this album again, cover-to-cover.

Gomez are taking their time but I think they've earned it. A sense of excitement surrounding this band is uncommon now, and as we grow restless, having waited long enough for this, we are chanting. Finally, fifteen minutes later than expected, the quintet are here.

As silence falls victim to noise, signaling the introduction of 'Get Miles', a few questions linger. What is more important tonight? Is it the implication of going back in time because the present isn’t as positive? It’s not that this excitement is apocryphal, but it does feel staged. The UK has moved on from Gomez. Tonight is redemptive - a nostalgic call-to-arms of past glories, one where we can escape the here and now and return to 1998. It is hard to escape these thoughts tonight and focus on the music, to be honest. I love Gomez, but I also feel much of those joining me tonight has found other loves, time does that, and this is but a manufactured event to let bygones be bygones.

Thankfully, the music does its job.  All these questions become moot. No one cares. Gomez are genuinely excited to perform these tunes, almost as much as we are to hear them. As 'Get Miles' filters through its Crawdaddy blues roots structure, it is a challenge to make out Ben Ottewell’s grainy scowl over the crowd, as everyone sings, (well, screams) along. It is pure jubilance, as each predictable follow-up produces more uproar, and more singing from all of us. 'Whippin’ Piccadilly' is frenzied, as both Ottewell and vocalist Tom Gray harmonize over the crack-whip blues that perches itself overtop every melody on this record.




The youthfulness these songs exhibit remain with each chord, even ten years on.   Gomez no longer stumble around drunk in Manchester, finding ways to get in trouble with the fuzz. Babies, wives and mortgages are reality now, but for these fifty minutes nothing has changed and everyone is right back where it was, in 1998. Gomez are playing for their chance to win the Mercury and all of us, stuck to the floor (that may not been mopped since then) are discovering these songs once again. The innocence of it all is overwhelming and infectious. As the songs leave us once more, 'Love is Better Than a Warm Trombone' and the lengthy, dark delta closer 'Rie’s Wagon' leave the most residue, performed as poignantly and urgently as they were a decade ago.




But, once more, it is all over too soon. Twelve songs were played, sang to and wished well, leaving the encore to introduce two new songs, both of which tonight cannot compete with the twelve tracks on _Bring it On_. No one knows what lies ahead for Gomez. Instead, tonight engendered the appreciated opportunity to go back in time and relive this album once more. Too bad, because, as both new songs showed, Gomez are not finished yet with moving forward.