the corner office

Went into London this weekend to see the Fields of the Nephilim at the Shepherd's Bush Empire. It was jolly good fun. There were lions and tigers and dancing bears and lollipops and sweets and a clown and a riding pony. Not really. There were lots of inflatable Nemo fish and a hand puppet, but I think that was an online group of fans who'd organised a bit of a get-together and occupied half the standing room in front of the stage, and seemed to be having a ripe old time.

Circa 2008 it's well understood that 'Fields of the Nephilim' means Carl McCoy plus nameless backing musicians. It's also equally accepted by all but the most ardent of adorers that Carl McCoy is a little on the self-important side, especially when it comes to the legacy of the Neph. He may be able to claim legal and spiritual woo-woo ownership of the major themes and conceptual underpinnings of the Nephilim as a b(r)and, but the band's appeal to me was always as much the music as vocals and imagery. So without the Wright bros and Messrs Pettit and Yates, I wasn't expecting too much on the musical front.

Having said that, it was a Neph gig, and Mr Neph himself was going to be up there, belting out the tunes, and I was determined to make the most of it. And the band circa 2008 acquitted themselves well. A little metalesque in places (understandable), but really tight and mostly true to the original sound.

Right, the gig. Shepherd's Bush Empire, the kind of old music-hall-looking venue you'd never see in ZA. All added to the charm, this is the appeal of London. We arrived a little late thanks to half of London's underground network being closed due to suicides, repairs or lack of interest. I thought the tubes got clogged up during weekday rush hours, sheesh.

Huge queues when we arrived, so we went into the Irish pub next door for a few pints. Packed with old-school goth types. Quite noticeably (and refreshingly) different to current-day goths. Fewer piercings but more wrinkles. And nary a patch of PVC. I felt more at home around this odd lot than I've felt around alternatives in many a year.

A few pints and we made our way into the venue. We had seats on the first floor, but chose to stand along the first floor balcony to the left of the stage. Virtually on top of the stage, perfect view, if a little too close to the speaker stacks for an old fart like me. As I mentioned, the atmosphere in the crowd was brilliant. I'm glad I wasn't on the ground floor, it was rather lively and the shirtless dudes moshing and building pyramids looked like they were having a blast, but I might have felt less charitable if I'd been stuck behind them.

Covering band - Inkubus Sukkubus. Or, as it was more accurately put last night: 'hey, this is one of those 90's goth bands' 'yep, I recognise this song from Gothic Rock II', 'yeah, me too, who are they?' 'stuffed if I remember'. They weren't bad but a little too cheezy gawth for me. Never mind that I was paying good money to watch a band whose entire ethos is being dust-covered, trenchcoat-clad post-apocalyptic spaghetti-western cyberpunk cowboys with a thing for Cthulhu and Crowley and Sumerian mythology. It's a subtle distinction, I'll admit.

Impressions and memories...

Flour. Wouldn't have believed it, but a song or so into the gig, you could see flour/powder on the stage floor. That made me chuckle.

McCoy. Well, you see videos, then you see the real person. Ain't the tallest fella in the world. Huge presence, though, leathers, boots, crazy hat, and of course, voice right outta a thousand packs of Camel Plains.

Big-ass septagram on stage. True to theme, I suppose. I think McCoy was taking pains to stand at certain points in the thing during different songs, so maybe he was being all magickal and heavy. At other times he just stomped around in his big boots like he was pished. Maybe a bit of both.

Songs. Not enough of them, sadly... when they went off before the encores I thought it was a half-time intermission. No songs from Dawnrazor, which was disappointing, but a little bit of everything else, including Zoon. A few tracks from the latest material, which didn't blow me away. Best songs for me were Endemoniada and Psychonaut, and the Moonchild encore. The Elizium stuff wasn't far behind - beautiful and haunting as always.

Strange experiences, meeting new people - met a South African dude who was standing next to us, and asked 'how did you guys hear of this band? I only got into them a few months ago, never heard of them in my life before, but they're brilliant'. I'd have felt rather old if the bloke wasn't my age. After the gig they disappeared, I'm sorry I didn't get to chat to him and his missus further, their enthusiasm brought a smile to my face. Made me wonder how many new fans a band like the Neph can still attract - what they sound like to people who don't have the subcultural history or context.

Trip home - we stopped off at the pub next door for a final pint, which wasn't a good idea, because my mate R and I missed the last trains and ended up missioning around outside Victoria station before finding a night bus out to Chislehurst, which went through every dodgy suburb south of the Thames, and picked up lots of youngsters who had 'knife crime' written all over their spotty faces. But still, all part of the adventure.

So there you go. I've now seen FoTN live.