I went to the lovely Luminaire on Wednesday, to see the reformed (in togetherness if not in character) Black Box Recorder. Luminaire is probably the best venue in London, particularly if you want to actually hear a band play their songs: there are signs up everywhere, demanding SILENCE, and a Guantanamo-style correction facility out back for those who block the view by holding up their cameraphones all sodding gig*.
After the fairly diverting smoky folk of Madam, on came BBR, like phoenixes from the flames.
Our heroes looked great – Sarah still looking like the sexy mothering demon of heaven, Luke dressed as a Victorian Funeral Director Southern Gentleman, and John still couched in refined embarrassment. The two men wore Lord Lucan badges on their string ties; Sarah was in a red cocktail dress.
They kicked straight off with Girl Singing In The Wreckage, appropriately: Black Box Recorder are a sexy car crash. They dare you to look away, but they know you can’t.
After the hypnotic reminder that “the English motorway system is beautiful and strange” came “THE HIT“, Facts Of Life. I’d love to see Billy Piper singing Facts Of Life, just as I’d like Black Box Recorder to do Honey To The Bee. In fact, Ms Piper should join Black Box Recorder on bass.
Towards the end of the set came two new songs. “If this doesn’t get us a Christmas number one, we’ll know the answer” said John, before they launched into “Do You Believe in God?”, which floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee. It was also, like many Black Box Recorder songs, far more serious than one first realises, in a “ha ha ha ha ha oh crap this raises some important points” kind of way. Damned pop that makes you think. Can’t I just dance instead? No, you can’t.
Second new song, “Keep It In The Family”, was probably about… well, you can guess.
The set ended with my choice for our post-monarchy national anthem, England Made Me; the encore saw Child Psychology (with its immortal chorus “Life is unfair: Kill yourself or get over it”), The Art Of Driving, and Lord Lucan.
Thoughts: first, Sarah Nixey is the perfect vessel for Haines’ songs. Her delivery, intonation, and otherworldly matronness all fit the material (death, despair, mortgages, ennui, sceptic nostalgia etc) like a silk glove. She gives it authority, class, and sex. Second, I have no idea why Black Box Recorder have reformed, and have no expectations of them doing anything so vulgar as selling lots of records. But I’m delighted they have: they deserve mugs, scarves, tea towels, and a residency on Top Of The Pops**.
* The bit about signs is true, the rest is in my dream
** BRING BACK TOP OF THE POPS
