Picture the scene.
I am crushed against the barrier at a cramped Barrowlands.
It is 2007.
An expectant crowd, patiently waits for The Editors.
The second support act is getting ready. I don’t recall their name.
They are in for a typical Glasgow welcome.
A boy shouts from the crowd ‘’Are you’se any good’’.
The lead singer meekly replies ‘’I think so.’’
To which this Glaswegian legend replies ‘’You’se better fucking be, you wee fucking cunt’’.
The wee fucking cunt and his band keeps the crowd’s attention for about three songs before we all start chanting for The Editors.
Soon they are on.
I am a few inches from the stage as, Tom Smith hangs his guitar over my head.
An End has A Start dropped a mere few weeks ago.
The Editors have immortality and greatness within their grasp.
Surely, they will go on to be one of The UK’s finest Indie giants?
Over a decade later, The Editors find themselves in a rather different place.
They are a band who one can easily fall out of love with.
An End’s follow up In This Light and on This Evening was a bold if misplaced step in a – new direction.
The most scathing criticism I’ve heard of that record is The Editors went from pretending to be Joy Division to pretending to be New Order.
Nothing wrong with that in itself.
Not everything has to be original.
However quite a few fans ditched Tom & co after they began their neo tech gothic journey.
The Weight of your Love was a bit of a muddled mess but In Dream found the band on firm ground again.
Now with this year’s release of Violence, The Editors have made something of an unexpected comeback.
Although they would argue that they’ve never been away, they lost our attention a long time ago and it’s been a struggle to get us on board again.
Violence is arguably their best album since The Back Room.
Although I have long since grown out of their synth pop theatrics, I gotta say that I was excited about seeing these boys again in Budapest.
Their live show is intricate, involving and the labyrinthe like guitar can get the most hardened of cynical spectators bouncing.
That’s exactly how things kicked off at Barbra Negra last night.
Tom, pounds his chest and energizes the crowd with a crunching & heart stopping performance of Hallelujah (So Low).
Smith’s voice is unwavering and flawless.
He hasn’t aged a bit. He’s tall. Pale. Sinewy.
He storms around the stage and at one point disappears into a corner behind a curtain threatening to never return.
His chilling yet uplifting vocals are the only sign that he is still there.
Dare I say at times, he embodies the spirit of Ian Curtis.
The group behind Smith. Are tight. Comfortable. On form.
(So low) is preceded by a meledy of (almost) sing along hits.
Predictably the biggest reaction of the night occurs when the opening, distinctive riffs of Munich echo over the auditorium.
We all scream along as, Smith anguished voice cries over fragile things & speaking when spoken to.
I itch to hear more classics from The Back Room but I am left to make do with Blood.
The poorest song on the set, Ocean of Night closes the first part of the gig.
The uninspiring lyrics (rhyming ocean with notion is really a stretch) and U2esque chanting leaves the crowd perplexed and restless.
A brief break is followed by an encore that begins with the dazzling new singles Cold & Magazine.
Then my own personal favorite.
This shimmering synth beast crackles with a breathless intensity.
We all reach for the sky, declaring ‘’If there really was a God here, he’d have raised a hand by now’’.
A blistering attack to the senses. Lights explode. Drums are pounded into submission. Sumptuous guitars tremble.
Before I know it, the house lights are on.
We are blinded.
The next stop on The Editors tour is Zagreb.
Pulse might see them there.