Quality Time With Our Former Colonial Overlords (Or, Neil's Trip To The UK)

Episode 3: Music and Musicals

I. Viva La Vida (Next Time)

As you may or may not know, this trip to the UK was originally sandwiched nicely between two concerts: Coldplay and Radiohead. It was set to be one for the ages, a back-to-back double play of earth shatteringly orgasmic Anglo-rock for Sandra and I. The catch? We had tickets for Radiohead, but not for Coldplay. Oh, the beauty of uncertainty.

From the free Madison Square Garden Show (from Stereogum.com)

Coldplay, who recently released my shoe-in for the year's best album (personally, anyway), planned a free concert at South London's Brixton Academy, which was for winners only. Unfortunately, we were not winners and, up until the day of the show, unable to successfully secure reliable tickets from online peddlers. So we decided to throw our fates to the wind, trek to the end of the Victoria line and brave our chances with a scalper outside the venue. Nerve-wracked and tense, we arrived to see a line of lucky assholes wrapped around the building, seething with excitement for the impending show, the very first in support of aforementioned Album of the Year, Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends (currently in its second week at #1).


A number of unsavoury individuals were loitering around the general radius of Brixton, offering tickets to the desperate and gullible. We settled on one fellow, the least suspicious but nonetheless equally untrustworthy-looking as the rest. He was willing to sell us 2 tickets for 100 quid each, the kind soul. For those keeping track, that's 400 USD for two tickets. Now, I know I said I'd do "anything" for Coldplay tickets, and that still holds true. But let's get specific: I'd do anything for RELIABLE Coldplay tickets. And these certainly were not reliable at all. So what was the catch?

First, the tickets were printed out. This is some ridiculous Green effort on the part of assholes like Ticketmaster to save them from sending people real tickets printed on real paper that can stand the test of time, not some laserjet piece of shit. That means Mr. Scalper could have easily printed out 10 (or 100) copies of the same ticket, netted 1000 (or 10,000) quid, and been home to tuck in the rugrats for bed before his unlucky victims even got rejected at the door by security.

Second, the tickets were individually labelled with the names of the winners, with ID required at venue entry. Mr. Scalper told us that the door men would be too busy to check everyone's ID, so there was nothing to worry about. But what, I asked, if they DID deny us entry? What then, dear sir? He graciously offered us his mobile number and said to call him for a refund. Maybe I've been in cheat-filled China for too long, but this was almost too much. Did he honestly think we'd believe his tricksy ass? I almost pooped myself trying to control my laughter.

The risk was too great, so we decided to play it smart and forego the show. I would have gladly sold myself to a crack-addled vagrant (or soul singer) for tickets, but only if they were guaranteed. As we sadly walked past the growing line of revelers, we passed the security checkpoint just in time to see a pair of fans get rejected and kicked out of line. Why? No ID. Turns out the security wasn't as lax as Mr. Scalper wanted us to believe. As the rejected girl walked past us, she was straight-up bawling (honestly, who forgets ID!?!). I think we made the right decision. It just gives us proper reason to fly to Japan for the inevitable Asia leg of the 2009 tour.

Sad Eyes

So, having been denied a night with Chris Martin and company, we settled on the next best thing: ABBA. Rushing back into the city, we barely made it for our first musical of the trip: Mamma Mia!

II. Dancing Queens

Enjoying a musical or two (or four) in London is required of all visitors and residents alike. Housing over 50 shows in grand theaters throughout the city (65 by last count), it's a cultural treasure trove for those with enough cash. From the classics (Les Mis, Phantom) to the new class (Lion King, Wicked), from recent hits (Avenue Q) to even fresher productions (LOTR, Billy Elliot), the choices are overwhelming. After popping my musical cherry with Mamma Mia, I subsequently had the fortune to enjoy Les Miserables, Lord of the Rings and Wicked, ranked as follows:

1. Les Mis
2. Wicked
3. Mamma Mia
4. LOTR

My penchant for lists may be deceiving, as all of the shows were amazing. Now I know what all the fuss over Les Mis is about. The great songs, heartbreaking drama and wrenching emotion set in the days of the French Revolution had the greatest impact on me - most importantly because now I know why everyone was so miserable (God save my soul, I didn't mean to make that lame joke). Not as pussified as I thought, it was powerful and one of the best musicals I've ever seen. My contact lens fell out because my eyes were leaking so much.

Chris Martin's been raiding their wardrobe, eh?

Pre-show Tension Mount!

The original painting of Cosette, before she grew up to be a minging slag, by Emile Bayard (1837-1891)

Wicked (2003-present), equally as entertaining, is a marvel, equal parts hilarious and touching. I was surprised by the catchiness of the songs, the sly wit, great references to the original story and strong character performances by both the titular Wicked Witch of the West and that good one with the blonde hair. Even for the price I paid (60 quid), it was worth every shilling.

Wicked, playing at the Apollo Victoria (exit Victoria tube station)

Big Dragon That Does Nothing and The Map Of OZ

Having missed Mamma Mia last year in Shanghai, I was excited to finally see it in London. And from the front rows, to boot. I've never been a huge ABBA fan, but after the show, I shall admit that I will willingly obtain their greatest hits for free from my illegal downloading server. A sweet, comedic and booty-shaking party, perfect for moms and daughters (although I think they could have spared us all some time with a quick and easy DNA test). And just in time for the theatrical release, starring Pierce Brosnan, Meryl Streep and some blonde girl with huge eyes who looks stoned (check out the terrible version of my favorite ABBA song, "Gimme, Gimme, Gimme").

Mamma Mia, exit Piccadilly Circus and walk west

Still Missing Coldplay

At the bottom of the pack, we come to Lord of the Rings. Before the premier, fans wondered if it was a good idea to try and cram the magnum opus into a silly stage musical. Could they pull it off? As an overly obsessed fan, I had to judge for myself. For 25 quid, the afternoon matinée was a great deal. But in the pack of aforementioned heavyweights, it fell short in the music department, with silly songs, mostly packed with Hobbit cheese and unnecessary Elvish. The pacing and plot decisions were even more lamentable, with "Fellowship" occupying more than half of the show's run time and Rohan and Gondor combined into one nameless kingdom ruled by a Theoden-Denethor character (!???!?!?!). Teetering embarrassingly close to blasphemy, the show's saving grace is the stage production, which is absolutely mind-blowing (see for yourself).

Located on Drury Lane, home of the Muffin Man

With most of the theater, side boxes and the front portion of the ceiling covered in fake tree branches snaking out into the audience, the venue is transformed into a mini Middle Earth. A complex hydraulic stage spins in circles and platforms rise and fall, a gloriously deceptive device that tricks the audience into believing the performance area is more massive than reality. Aerial wire-work, clever lighting and stilts add more dimensions to the typical formula and surprise cast member appearances in the crowd engage the audience. In it's most stupendous feat, the entire hall is filled with smoke and confetti, blasted from the stage by powerful fans that cut visibility to a minimum in a matter of seconds to welcome our dear pal, the Balrog. All things considered, 25 pounds is well worth it for a matinée, but anything more and you may feel like you just got a good buggering from an orc. So get your ass to Drury Lane soon, to scope out Galadriel's rack and hear the Hobbits' very last bar tune, because LOTR closes it's doors in London in forever on July 19.

Having seen four musicals in two week's time, I needed something to replenish my testosterone. Luckily Radiohead was there to fill that gap with the help of some guitar-based rock.

III. Everything In Its Right Place

The ghost of Brixton defeat still fresh in our hearts, we were determined to make the best of an already spectacular opportunity, which many would say Coldplay could never compete with. Radiohead (or, in proper British, "Ray-jee'o-hed"). We attended the second of two gigs in East London's Victoria Park, with another of our personal favorites, Bat For Lashes, opening the show.

Most glorious ticket ever.

After waiting over 3 hours in the strong afternoon heat (3rd row positioning, totally worth it), Bat For Lashes took the stage to glowing sunlight and a gusty breeze. Now that Tori Amos and Bjork have forgotten how to make interesting music, Natasha Khan (a.k.a. Bat For Lashes) has gladly filled that gap in my heart and I spent 45 minutes in goosebumped bliss, which included at least three new songs. Her band, the Blue Dreams, possibly the busiest group of nameless faces ever, play a dizzying array of medieval and mysterious instruments which add to the overall mystique of the group's music. Seeing her perform at dusk in Edinburgh castle would not be out of place.

Natasha (with tambourine) and a Blue Dream (from sandmeister at Flickr)

As soon as BfL finished, the Radiohead stage whirred to life. Giant hanging lights, controlled by hydraulics, slowly droned into position, transforming the stage into a claustrophobic grid with barely enough space for the band to squeeze into. The crowd tension was palpable and, mere yards from the stage, I admit I was feeling a little high. By half eight, Thom Yorke and the gang took the stage to a frighteningly excited audience and proceeded to rock our socks off.

Radiohead, sweet Radiohead

Thom Yorke: Not The Prettiest Petunia In The Patch

Goodnight

Playing In Rainbows (and 2 B-sides) in its entirety, Radiohead pleased us all by interspersing ample representatives from all albums, Kid A and OK Computer getting the most love. For the first quarter, things remained relatively calm. But after launching into some heavier bits ("Myxomatosis", "Jigsaw Falling Into Place"), the crowd was whipped into a frenzy that didn't die down until the sun had long since set and the band departed the stage after the final encore, "Paranoid Android", which caused the kid next to me to "shit himself" in joy (I highly recommend you watch the video, one of the best of all time). I almost lost my shoes, which got so trashed I decided to just leave them in London (R.I.P.), and the crowd was whirling and twirling too closely, like packt sardines (har har), I think I was penetrated a few times by the excited French dudes behind me. After the mayhem, which I did not expect for a band so cerebral as Radiohead, we couldn't imagine what a hometown London show by Muse would be like (hint: Death).

So, even though Coldplay fell through, the bounty of musical riches and Radiohead love were highlights of the trip. Chris Martin can have us for himself at some later date.

For more pictures from the Radiohead shows, check out Pochang, Andy and Nick (ha, as if I know these dudes personally) and click on the songs below for videos and live performances (painstakingly sought out on a really hot and humid Shanghai afternoon).

Radiohead Set list (courtesy of AndyVortex)
Victoria Park, Wednesday, June 25, 2008

1. Reckoner
2. 15 Step
3. There There
4. All I Need
5. Lucky
6. Nude
7. Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
8. Myxomatosis
9. National Anthem
10. Faust Arp
11. No Surprises
12. Jigsaw Falling Into Place
13. Optimistic
14. Videotape
15. Everything In Its Right Place
16. Idioteque
17. Bodysnatchers

-Encore #1-
18. House of Cards
19. The Bends
20. Bangers and Mash
21. My Iron Lung
22. Karma Police

-Encore #2-
23. Go Slowly
24. 2+2=5
25. Paranoid Android