ICA London
15/5/89
THERE ARE three reasons why The Stone Roses are Your Hassled Scribe's favourite band of the month (narrowly defeating the ever-exuberant Mega City Four) and why suddenly, hearteningly, they have their debut LP tussling with the lame and the disabled of the Top 30.
We'll deal with all three, but a quick précis of tonight is in order first: they go on late (nobody cares), they play the loudest ever ICA gig (nobody flinches) and perversely they tart around with the running order of the set and in customary mock-arrogant fashion they don't do an encore (despite everyone cheering).
Really EVERYONE. Everyone who thinks they're anyone is here, which is chart-busting, ego-rising Reason Number One for the Roses' stabbing impact. It is The Buzz (again). Buzzes are what bands start when suddenly their sparkle just happens to ignite in the right place at the right time.
Someone says the next day that "everyone wants to like The Stone Roses at the moment" and that's 90 per cent right. Some people (Hassled Scribe included!) don't take that much notice of Buzzes, but the floating music mafia have Buzzes ringing in their ears. It's all very amusing.
Anyhow, secondly, more importantly, there is the music; the fact that The Stone Roses have got it right. They had it 85 per cent right when they released their first 45 'Elephant Stone' and we saw them at Central London Polytechnic loafing through a thrifty set that only strayed when they lost their way back into '60s trickery.
Now they've sifted out the blatant history, the Roses, as far as I can see, are 100 per cent their own sound. It's got its obvious reference points, it's got its weaknesses, it has its indulgences, but it's theirs and it's beautifully, brutally crafted. In their own cock-sure way they happen to be a bit sloppy tonight (drums, harmonies, disappearing bass-mix) but the great thing is, it doesn't matter.
The songs-'Waterfall', cascading, shining: 'I Wanna Be Adored', plaintive, pulverising; 'Made Of Stone', MASSIVE, irresistible-are the sort of songs that last. The type that not only bear repeated listens, but demand them. Songs that mean something to people. Hence Reason Number Three, The Feeling (the fever). On a night when there are no buses, no tubes, the ICA has its best attendance of the Rock Week. And that's because, contrary to some reports, white-indie-rock-pop still affects more people (at most times) than House's bump and grind club drone.
The Stone Roses have captured people's imagination, filled a hole in them (just as The Smiths did, as The Sundays do) and given them a place to celebrate their feelings at their gigs. Down the front it's chaos, bouncing bodies, sweating like a work-out in a furnace. I'm told they're all "out of it", but you don't need drugs to get high on the Roses. I'm only watching from the touchline because I'm holding someone's jacket who has disappeared into the throng to melt.
Vocalist lan Brown, the unlikeliest hero of the year, has the crowd falling over themselves to get his attention. He skulks around looking mischievous, a wee bit aloof, while the band shimmy through 35 stylish minutes and into the final 'letting loose' instrumental climax.
They hack down their instruments and amble off leaving the encore shouts to rise and fall, unrequited. They are what favourite bands are all about.
Steve Lamacq
NME
