ONE IN A MILLION:

Hugh Cornwell, The Waterfront, 6 December 2022.

It’s not been a good week for The Stranglers and the extended familyinblack. The sad passing of the band’s founder Jet Black (birth name Brian Duffy) was reported on Thursday 8 December. Somehow, that made seeing Hugh Cornwell, The Stranglers’ original guitarist and main vocalist, in concert two days before seem positively valedictory.

 

I’m not that familiar with Hugh’s solo material, which made up the first half of the evening. I loved his version of Cream’s ‘White Room’, recorded with Captain Beefheart’s drummer Robert Williams back in 1979, but after he left The Stranglers in 1990, I pretty much lost track of his solo material. I still went and saw him live – the nostalgic pull of seeing him perform Stranglers songs was always strong – and, as a live act, he never disappointed.

 

Hugh’s opening set tonight shows that the man hasn’t lost his knack for idiosyncratic lyrics and eccentric tunesmithery, as witnessed on the opening tracks ‘Coming Out of the Wilderness’ and the acerbic ‘Stuck in Daily Mail Land’. Hugh’s on fine ‘between song banter form’ too, explaining the inspiration behind a given song – ‘Mr Leather’, for instance, is a tribute to Lou Reed and the grumpy musical innovator is honoured in the song with some chord changes that reflect Reed’s distinctive guitar style. He’s obviously one of Hugh’s heroes.

 

He’s chosen well in his young rhythm section Pat Hughes (bass, above right) and Windsor McGilvray (drums), as they’re effortlessly adept at the different musical styles Hugh’s solo catalogue ranges through. Stand outs tonight from the focused trio are the dark gothic of ‘Big Bug’ and ‘Mothra’ from ‘79’s Nosferatu.

 

During the second set, entirely made up of Stranglers material, Hugh doesn’t say a word. A cynic might say that’s because these songs are ‘contractual obligation’ for him – i.e. performing music by the band he’s still most famous for being a member of – but it might be because he’s busy concentrating. If there’s one thing this set proves conclusively, it’s that The Stranglers’ canon is staggering in its diversity, complexity and melody. Without a doubt, it’s the best Stranglers selection I’ve seen Hugh perform.

 

‘Nice and Sleazy’’s reggae electronica still sounds icily modern – and works fine, as all the songs do, without keyboards – ‘Goodbye Toulouse’ is a giddy New Wave waltz and ‘5 Minutes’, stripped back to guitar, bass and drums, is a snarling, heavy rock beast. Elsewhere, the thrilling, epic sweep of ‘Tramp’ – last heard live by me in 1982 on the second leg of the La Folie tour – demonstrates exactly why it should have been the follow up single to ‘Golden Brown’.

 

But it’s the beginning, middle and end of the set that impress me the most. Hugh begins with ‘Waltzinblack’, the opening track from The Stranglers’ 1981 concept album The Gospel According to the Meninblack, a record so out of step with the then zeitgeist that it bombed commercially. Over the years, though, its reputation artistically has increased – innovation is rarely profitable initially – and Hugh has gone on record as saying that working on Meninblack was his favourite time in The Stranglers. That must be why he features no less than three tracks from the LP: keyboard instrumental ‘Waltzinblack’ is impressively reinterpreted for guitar, there’s the anthemic stomp of ‘Thrown Away’ and the set closes with the majestic, melancholy ‘Turn the Centuries, Turn’ (the second instrumental from Meninblack). All three tracks are breath-taking live. When you consider that the original line-up of The Stranglers moved from the clattering punk of ‘Something Better Change’ to the electronic psychedelia of ‘Hallow To Our Men’ in the space of five years, you begin to realise just how inventive and musically ground breaking they were.

 

Hugh is back out to thank everyone for coming and the band finish with the pop gems ‘Golden Brown’ and ‘Duchess’. It goes without saying that we all go home happy.

 

With two of the original members of The Stranglers now gone, nights like this, which celebrate a golden age of innovative British rock, are to be truly cherished. At a (young) 73, here’s hoping that Hugh Cornwell stays at the top of his game.

Photos Ⓒ Robert Fairclough 2022