Future of the Left
Future of the Left played what may have been their last ever Liverpool gig to a near empty Arts Club and Getintothis’ Joseph Viney needs a stern talk with everyone
Wednesday April 20 2016 may well have been the last time Liverpool will ever bear witness to a Future of the Left (FotL) headline show. According to Falco, Liverpool is always a tough place for them to crack in terms of ticket sales and that’s even without the Derby Day factor. It was on Twitter yesterday that he announced his thoughts on the matter and frankly, more fool us.
Last night’s poor turnout – and that’s exactly what it was – is a mystery, and since it’s not the first time Fotl have been left dangling by low numbers, it becomes an even deeper one.
They’re not a bad group. Not at all. You only need to have seen the reaction of those actually in attendance to know they’re adored by people who follow them and their continued presence and longevity – still able to release solid, memorable albums – just makes the whole thing even stranger.
Be that as it may, if indeed this is the last time the group grace Liverpool with their presence, then they will have gone out on a high. On show was the poisonous cocktail of demented guitar work, bass that could draw fracking protests and crowd interaction that is so caustic and subtle it leaves you laughing uneasily at times. Does he actually hate us, or are we just being ribbed? But then, for a band in the midst of long slog of a tour playing to an empty room, they’re certainly allowed to be off with us if indeed they wanted to be.
Their set was the expected mix of tracks from new record The Peace and Truce of Future of the Left and their winding backlog of bloody great songs. Let it be known,FotL don’t have one bad song in their entire rotating live canon. If it isn’t Arming Eritrea, then it’s Small Bones, Small Bodies. If it isn’t The Limits of Battleships then it’s Beneath The Waves Of An Ocean. You get the picture. Playing to 50, 500 or 5,000…it doesn’t matter. You still get the same effort, application and intensity.
They finished – as they regularly do – with the eternal Mclusky anthem Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues before devolving into the messy, extended death note that forms their signature ending. Drum kit and other equipment winding up all over the stage, guitars becoming more than the sum of their parts, crashing off any and all available surfaces and just letting nature take its course. It’s as if they reworked Metal Machine Music only this time putting some effort into it.
It’s trite to call gigs “a happening”, because it makes you sound like some confused, old television executive. You know, the kind that misuses the word “viral” in a desperate attempt to get their output to the masses.
In this instance however, it WAS a happening, potentially the last by this lot in this city. To the band, an apology. To the rest of you, come downstairs, your mother and I need to talk with you.
Pictures by Getintothis’ Chris Flack
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