Richard Ashcroft

February 7, 2001

Commodore Ballroom

Vancouver, Canada

Since the cancellation of his original show last November, the Brit-music-loving masses in Vancouver have been itching and waiting impatiently for Richard Ashcroft's new show date to arrive. I was one of the crowd. Even though the show was moved from the intimate Sonar club to the classy (and quite large!) Commodore Ballroom, I was anticipating a fairly personal show. Richard traveled with no opening band, and it remained to be seen what he would pad his set with, seeing as his lone solo effort is not the lengthiest of discs.

On a side note, there were more photographers at this show than in most I have shot recently, but there was no barricade set up to create a free media zone for us, so we had to contend with the densely packed crowd about ten minutes prior to show-time to secure a decent spot to shoot from. No easy task when faced with hardy "Verve Supporters" (as more than a few boisterous Vancouverites-faking-British-accents referred to themselves as) who had been waiting at stage-front for close to two hours.

I finally settled in and waited for things to kick off. The cold blue backdrop had line drawings of sign language positions projected on it, as well as a line of type reading "No Inhibitions." Mr. Ashcroft paraded on stage, guitar aloft, beginning "Brave New World" to the awestruck delight of the audience. All eyes were riveted, bodies swaying, as Richard, alone on the stage with his acoustic guitar, began to sing. He rarely moved throughout the songs, rarely opened his eyes. He was lit from below by a white spot on either side of his microphone, and occasionally, a colored gel or mirrorball from behind him would pop up to create additional ambience.

Moments after that song ended, I received my answer regarding what additional material he would use throughout his set. The second song he played was "Lucky Man", one of the grandest songs off of the Verve's last brilliant record, Urban Hymns. I am one of quite a number of people I have spoken with who did, and still do, hopelessly love the Verve's biting lyrics and fabulously arranged music, yet see the soft, loving side that Ashcroft portrays on his solo disc, Alone With Everybody, as a bit weak. Heaven forbid cynical rock stars fall in love and lose their edge! But the Verve, with Ashcroft still the primary songwriter at the time, created timeless music that stuck with all of us embittered arty types through our most harrowing days. It was (and is!) music to cry, scream, throw things, and fall into blissful sleep to, and at the end of it all, you feel enormously better. And here, in front of me, was Ashcroft himself, having taken his music back, crooning "Lucky Man" in a slow-tempo, all-acoustic, absolutely-solo endeavor, and it was fantastic.

Almost the entire show had the same tempo, in fact. No matter how quick and snappy the recorded version is, he took the song and turned it into a sweet, rolling melody. I had almost envisioned myself getting a bit bored during the show, thinking it would be too slow for my liking, but it was the opposite. Instead, I found myself positively enraptured by him, mesmerized by the entire atmosphere he created. He would occasionally be joined onstage by another one or two musicians; percussion consisting of bongos, a bit of flute, and his wife Kate, formerly of Spiritualized, joining in on keys for a couple tunes.

What struck me the most about the man's performance was his voice. Of course, it has always sounded melodic on record, but then again, with today's marvels of digital enhancement; it's almost hard to sound bad. Very few can carry that splendor through live. Ashcroft was different, and if anything, sounded better live than on the CD's. Because of the minimal instrumentation, his voice took the forefront. He was so engrossed with what he was singing, he looked on the verge of emotional explosion through much of the set. This emotive intensity transferred in his vocalization. His voice is strong, pure and smooth, never warbling, never off-key. His pitch is divine, and his ability to harmonize with the instruments behind him was uncanny. Around the room, one could see individuals grabbing the shoulders or arms of those next to them when Ashcroft's voice soared around the room.

He played approximately equal amounts of songs from his album and the Verve's material. The vast majority of the Verve stuff was off of Urban Hymns, but he did once venture further into the past, and chimed into "See You In The Next One" off of the stellar, atmospheric and chilling disc A Storm In Heaven. I can imagine that much of the material on that CD is almost impossible to pull off using only an acoustic guitar with any credibility, but this one tune, which is the closing song on that CD, and certainly the most beautiful, became a heart-stopping ballad when strummed out by Ashcroft alone. Gone were the swimming effects and strings, but present was the raw emotion of a man confused by love and loss.

It was difficult to understand him as he spoke a few times between songs, what with his thick accent and mumbly tones combined with the natural room acoustics, but I managed to catch him saying that the energy in the room had inspired him, and he felt as though he could go and write a whole new album right then. Vancouver welcomed him with open arms. We had been waiting a long time for this. Much applause came when he sang a minimalistic version of "New York", and a charming rendition of the lead-off single "A Song For The Lovers", both from the Alone With Everybody disc.

His final encore saw him reclaim the Verve's world-wide groundbreaking (and controversial, thanks to a tiny string sample looped from a Rolling Stones song) hit, "Bittersweet Symphony", as his own. He actually said that he was taking this song back. Forget that the lawsuits made them give every penny of the song's revenue to the Stones, and that it was then used to sell cars and shoes and other such things it should never have gotten near. The song was Ashcroft's, and now he sang it with more conviction than I have ever heard it before. The room was filled with singing mouths and tearing eyes. Ashcroft finished the song, himself obviously overcome with his own world of song, by pulling his guitar off his lithe body and slamming it to the stage twice as though trying to drive it, and the critics, and the lawyers, and commercialism, and depression, and oppression, and spurned love, and everything else that's packed into his powerful lyrics, right through the floor. He left the stage to cheers and a room filled with love and adoration. No one moved from the stage area for almost fifteen minutes. They chanted and waited for him to come out again, even as stage crews began to dismantle the set-up. The audience began to slowly file away only when the room's overhead lights were blasted on at full intensity when it became apparent people didn't quite understand that the show was over.

It was one of the best, most beautiful, most spirited, and most pure shows I have ever witnessed. I would give anything to have seen the Verve in their prime, but being a part of this man's musical journey on his own was nonetheless a thrill and a privilege.

-Andy Scheffler