Concorde 2, 4 April 2010
Before I start, allow me first to express just how much I was looking forward to this gig. I’ve been a fan of the talented Mr Finley for years. His debut album, 1996’s Maverick A Strike, is one of my favourite albums and I’ve tried to see the man live on a few occasions, only for him to pull the show last minute or for my hopes to be dashed by the Gods of prior arrangements. So there I was, casually strolling down Queens Road, when a poster emblazoned with that unmistakable cheeky grin catches my eye. After letting out a yelp of joy, I quickly checked my calendar to make sure that nothing – NOTHING – would stop me from going to this gig.
It is common knowledge that Quaye is a temperamental performer with a reputation for storming off-stage for seemingly insignificant reasons. But with a completely packed out Concorde 2, on Good Friday no less, one could do little but hope the man would be in good spirits. Boy, was I wrong.
From the outset, that trademark full-of-beans persona of his was nowhere to be seen. He meandered onstage looking considerably spaced out, and after a tame applause, he eased his band into a laid back dub groove which looped without direction for far too long. Appearing unhappy with how things were sounding, he sauntered to the back of the stage and sulked for bit.
Eventually, he drops a few tunes for which he’s known. Summertime classics such as ‘Sunday Shining’ and ‘Your Love Gets Sweeter’ get the crowd joyfully singing along. However, they don’t have the flourishing production details that make the original recordings so enjoyable and Finley’s vocals have virtually no heart whatsoever, he just recites the lyrics with little attention to the original melodies. On the one hand, you could say this inconsistency is the result of playing the same old tunes for over a decade now. But then with his fiery reputation and an apparent history of drug addiction, one can’t help but wonder whether this dog has simply had his day.
It is a shame. His debut album was a crossover pop hit; the likes of which may never be seen again. His band play with the same focus and vigour for which Finley himself was once known. But now it seems that magic is no longer there for him and after bitching at his drummer for a final time, he casually walks offstage to an applause that’s tainted with disappointment.
Words by James Watts
myspace.com/finleyquayeuk
