Pride Of Place

Publié le par olivier

Pride Of Place

A review of Robert Palmer's concert at the Dominion Theatre in London on May 30, 1983

Pride seemed the main issue at stake at Palmer's Dominion bash, though perhaps in a different and clearer shape than when it served as the title for the man's most recent brilliant album. There is/was the obscure title, part of Palmer's arty front. At the Dominion, though, it came in starker form: Palmer is still the spoilt brat and this is one of the very many reasons we all love him.

I remember distinctly, personally, Palmer's arrowed looks to my photographer down front near the end of what was an increasingly good set. He didn't only dislike his (live) picture being taken, though goodness knows why, but he made sure that everybody else saw that he didn't. Another of the very many resaons we adore him.

Palmer makes sure that the 'blow wave set' of music paper imagination - that included Hall And Oates and other fallen by the way(ve) - hasn't disappeared from view. His live set oozes arrogance, and the amazing and wonderful thing is he carries it awfully well.

Apart from the photographer incident (a mere speck troubling The Man's eyelid; flick it away fast), Palmer's chief intention to make everyone certain he was it on the night included a set which had nearly every song joined together, hence rebuffing applause, getting on with it (he had a jet to catch to make love to an unhappily married heiress in Rio), putting down the audience if they didn't like what was being served up.

Then there was the encore, for which the at last unseated audience had to wait more than a bit: A rebuke for not enough enthusiasm the whole way through the set. Or, as reasons why we love him, I could mention the delightful little RAF uniform that Palmer sported on the night; positively We'll Meet Again.

Promo advert for the album Pride (1983)

Promo advert for the album Pride (1983)

It all added up to to telling us that Palmer hasn't really shifted ground that much over the not-very-successful years. Pride is a more consistent album than he's made for a long time; perhaps, for the first time, it indicates that he may have recognised the good points in his work and separated them from the (often overwhelming) chaff. His pride probably took him this long to take the advice.

But at the Dominion, that core of stubborn self love was still there enough in evidence to make it clear it was never a media-invented myth. Palmer is about this kind of panache. It can be a danger.

With Palmer, an over-abundance of luxury can be a danger because it hints at an insecurity that could well answer for the unsuccessful years. You even begin to recognise, as the set goes on unabridged like a series of rhetorical demands to no-one in particular, that the Caribbean flavour of most of the music (its coating is, at any rate) is itself an indulgent, coy detail from Palmer.

It really doesn't do very much for the songs, which are chiefly pop or white funk-based. Palmer's so much like a little boy in a play-pen shouting 'Look at me!' that you detect he's really a very ordinary guy with a lot of nerve (and a great wedge of insecurity, parenthetically, as it ought to be: One of those loveable reasons ...).

He looks ordinary; if he worked ina men's clothes shop you wouldn't look twice. I know better looking plumbers. But it's his very ordinariness, despite the trappings of rock and roll and his self-made glitter, that gets us behind Palmer to shout him on to self-loving victory.

That said, Palmer's 'act' is a great one. You want to urge him on. If you think for a second about the literal ordinariness 13-year-olds are spoonfed these days from torrid 'punk' acts and HM 'heroes' who resemble your grandad, you can appreciate the worth of la Palmer and his grandiose act. It's more real, if anything, than those fakes because it's to do with the initial arrogance of rock music which, in turn, is to do with its cutting edge.

1983 UK Tour advert and programme

1983 UK Tour advert and programme

Like the great ageing, failed lover he is, Palmer's climax came late - about three songs from the still-joined-together end - with a masterly It's Not Difficult. Set ended, he stormed off like a little Hitler, only to comment after the encores were over, the great lover's apology to the ugly virgin. "Sorry you had to wait so long ...".

We knew perfectly what he meant: One of those reasons that almost makes Palmer one of the great forces of rock.

Dave McCullough (Sounds - June 1983)

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