Music > Live Reviews

Gong

Norwich Arts Centre

15/03/22

There comes a tipping point when a band isn’t the same band anymore. It’s an uncertain, intuitive feeling that things aren’t quite right because a key player has moved on. The Dead Kennedys without Jello Biafra? The Buzzcocks without Pete Shelley? Dr Feelgood without anyone? It’s just not right. And yet Gong, despite having had a revolving door installed into the dressing room, seemed to transcend the trifling issue of personnel. Since Daevid Allen created Gong in the late sixties, over fifty people have contributed to the band’s distinctive sound, with only the likes of Steve Hillage, Bill Bruford and Tim Blake gaining significant subsequent recognition. Instead, the influence of Gong has spread its tentacles far and wide, creating a Gong family tree that stretches from the psy-trance of System 7 to the Japanese psychedelia of Acid Mother Temple. For many, Daevid Allen filled that central roll, but even he was absent for much of the time. My own introduction to this leviathan was Pierre Moerlen's Gong, an instrumental jazz fusion combo set up led by the eponymous drummer after Allen left in a huff, and it remains my favourite incarnation.

All of which is the long way round of saying I had no difficulties with the idea that the band that played at the Arts Centre really was Gong, despite the fact no one on stage had been with the band for more than ten years. The current line-up has been in place for seven, which is really five if we discount the covid years. It takes me back to the last time I saw them when, perhaps still reeling from Daevid Allen’s demise, the band seemed intent of creating a new and exciting direction, seemingly unwilling to poke about in the back catalogue. On the evidence of their mammoth two hour set at the Arts Centre, it’s a position they have since modified, given the pleasing mix of the old and the new we were served. I’d be fibbing if I pretended I recognised everything they played, but the stall was set up from the outset, when the relatively new Forever Recurring was followed by the relatively old You Can’t Kill Me. It proved to be the template for the evening, with recent compositions stacked up cheek by jowl with retooled classics. The new stuff stood up remarkably well, with Rejoice – a celebration of Mr Allen’s continued influence on the band – a particular highlight and quite the equal to Master Buildr. It all added up to a powerhouse performance that was cohesive and accomplished, yet pleasingly varied.

Kavus Torabi proved to be a personable and charismatic frontman (even if he did think he was in Colchester for a while). His vocals were fine, if a little variable, but I thought it a shame that Fabio Golfetti didn’t get more than one song. Quite apart from his excellent lead guitar, I thought he had the stronger voice. The rhythm section was excellent throughout. Bass player Dave Sturt is the longest serving member of the band, while drummer Cheb Nettles is the new boy, yet they bonded perfectly together. Chief among equals, however, was the mesmerising sax and flute playing of Ian East. Too often, these instruments parp away incidentally on stage, but East was absolutely central to the band’s unique sound. It was pointed out to me that, unusually, there were no keyboards on stage filling out the sound, and how insufferable the guitars might have proved over the course of the evening. It’s a testament to East’s playing that this hadn’t even occurred to me, such was the tone and texture he brought to the music.

Torabi’s ambitions for the evening were high, but while we didn’t manage to levitate the Arts Centre through the power of our subconscious, there was a marvellously collegiate atmosphere to the place. Isolated pockets of frugging (his word, not mine) were surrounded by modest head nodding, and most of the crowd were getting on a bit for a flying teapot mosh pit. Nonetheless, the place was full of smiling faces, something rarely seen over the last couple of years for all sorts of reasons, and that’s not something to be dismissed lightly.