Gene / 100 Club, London
Brit pop’s recessive Gene briefly mutate back to life.
Words Jeremy Allen
A footnote in Britpop history they may have been, but Gene prove tonight - for one night only - that they were one of the era’s more vital bands. Indeed, they were unfairly besmirched within a genre that rarely displayed their depth of beauty. Dismissed by many as a Smiths tribute act, with singer Martin Rossiter not helping himself by mimicking Moz’s deranged growl and occasionally pretending to be bisexual (a pre-requisite as important as wearing CK One and reading Sky magazine on the bus), they were nonetheless a way more inventive and original combo than they were given credit for.
Things have changed a lot since Gene entered the charts triumphantly at no. 4 with their debut album Olympian back in 1995, and with the Melody Maker declaring that bands this good only come around once every 15 years (if that’s so, it’s no wonder the noughties indie scene has been so torrid).
Rossiter is now a teacher, while two of the former members (Matt James and Steve Mason) are in the group Palace Fires. Tonight is the first time the former four-piece have been in the same room since their memorable final show at the Astoria four years ago. But this isn’t about capturing former glories or milking a legacy; musicians strapped for cash, hoping to be noticed again. In one of the more unconventional comebacks of recent times, this is a secret. If Gene didn’t speak to each other much that night in December 2004, then the same could be said of this evening; they’re fascinatingly frosty to one another, but they’ve come together for the greater good - to play a one-off 50th birthday party booked as a surprise for their former manager. It’s a lovely gesture, and thankfully the ad hoc performance itself is worthy of such an important landmark.
‘London Can You Wait?’ still sounds as romantic and melodramatic as it did back then, and opener ‘Be My Light, Be My Guide’ suddenly makes you sit up and notice that a contemporary group as good as Voxtrot couldn’t exist if Gene had never happened.
They also play ‘We Could Be Kings’, which, on a personal level, is something of a thrill, mainly because I heard it on the radio for the first time in a long time the week previous and I’d not been able to get it out of my head. It happily dethroned ‘Elvis Ain’t Dead’ by the execrable Scouting For Girls from the cranium’s inner jukebox. There was disappointment, though, that they don’t repeat ‘Sleep Well Tonight’ one last time - a fabulous tune with a great narrative about trying to avoid kickings and downing tools in parochial shitholes and heading for the bright lights of the city. So life-changing was it, that this scribe is not ashamed to admit he packed his bag à la Dick Whittington and moved to the Smoke not long after setting ears on it. Shed Seven’s ‘Chasing Rainbows’ never did glance me in such a profound way and it’s a small price to pay to see the former decade’s most overlooked indie kings back together again under the same roof. The only other downside is the fact that their set is so short. But it’s not something we can begrudge too much considering they’ve not practised and barely interacted in all this time.
Rossiter once spoke of having a “Mick Jagger alarm fitted in his head”, to make sure he didn’t outstay his welcome. With no encore, there’s no chance of that happening this evening, but they do finish with ‘Olympian’, which is as robust, and muscular and majestic as the name suggests. It’s as perfect a song as I remember it, and tonight they perform it better than I recall too, though nostalgia can play funny tricks. While Led Zeppelin’s reformation came with a shrilling fanfare, the 100 Club stairway tonight offers an afterlife with the fatted calf and all the trimmings (well, the wine is free anyway). Gene’s number is up, however. There won’t be a second coming.
