'The Boomtown Rats Sell Out'

Gig Review by Jon von Zelowitz for 'The Tech'.

The Boomtown Rats, Private Lightning, Luna.

I had been hanging around at The Tech's offices for a while when a call came in from a promoter in California. Would I like a free pair of tickets to see the Boomtown Rats in concert so I could review them in the paper?

It was time to think fast. The band had put out a pretty good debut album a few years ago. The cover had featured members of the band wrapped in large baggies. The songs were fun, fast British sounding new wave.

"OK, I'll take them, thanks." After I got of the phone, I tried to think of any other details I knew about the band. There had been two more albums, including a new one called 'Fine Art of Surfacing', and a hit single "I Don't Like Monday's." For some reason though, I hadn't heard anything else from the second and third albums played on the new wave radio shows I listen to. Hmmm...

Sitting around before the concert, as I watched the roadies setting up, my date was looking around at the audience. "You know" she said, "the audience all looks about 16 years old." "Nonsense." I said (without looking up) "They don't play new wave on the kiddie-rock stations."

Luna soon took the stage, and mainly impressed my as one of the ugliest bands I have ever seen. Their material was basically palatable pop ballads, and they were given the usual Don-Law opening act treatment of atrocious lighting and sound. Private lightning was up next. I haven't seen a band which looked so comfortable and happy performing since the Who played New York. They smiled at each other and at the audience, watched each others' solos, and appeared to be having a really good time playing their music. They, too, were rather pop-orientated, although their electronic violins add an interesting effect. At last, on came the Rats, Bob Geldof, the lead singer, quickly made it plain that he was the star of the show as he pranced around the stage lie Frank Sinatra on speed, basking in the crowds' adulation. I didn't recognise the opening song, but being one of the greatest optimists of all times, kept up the hope that the first song would be the one plays which sounded ready for AM radio.

It turned out that I was dead wrong. The songs continued at the same level, Geldof's stage antics remained obnoxious, and the theatrics were outlandish. I'll admit that my tastes in staging are simple - for a while I was sure that the ultimate in lighting effects had been achieved when Cantone's (a local punk bar) replaced their 60-watt bare bulb with a pair of flood lamps pointed at the stage. But multicoloured fluorescent zig-zags and a flashing 50-foot square tic-tac-toe board still seem a little absurd.

Geldof urged the audience to get up and dance, and never mind the ushers. This won him a few points in my book. Although the audience clearly didn't know what dancing meant, and wither crushed into the aisles in front of the stage or stood on their seats, this gave me a fine opportunity to look at the crowd. By this time, I was not surprised at all to see that my date had been absolutely correct - the average age was about 16, with many fans even younger. They seemed to be having a good time, though, and Geldof understood them well. He joked about whether their parents knew they were out, and let some on stage to take his picture.

Finally, as I sat looking rather grim, surrounded by 16-year-old girls standing in their seats, Geldof noticed me. "Ah, here's someone who doesn't want to dance!" he shrieked. I looked up in surprise. Holy shit, he was leaning over the stage, pointing at me. "Yes, you in the chequered shirt! If you don't want to dance, why don't you go to a country-and-western place instead?" (Probably a reference to my plaid flannel shirt and jeans.) The crowd cheered. I just rolled my eyes and looked at the ceiling. I only dance when I have respect for an artist and his music. And at that time, I had neither. Jon Von Zelowitz