Happiness, in the words of the celebrated Ken Dodd, is the greatest gift a person can possess. Which is what makes Steve Mason seem like the richest man in the world this evening (April 25th).
Now free from the scourge of anti-depressants, living on the south coast after a lengthy spell as a virtual hermit in Scotland, and having fully reconciled with his own past, the forty-two-year-old can quite justifiably argue he’s finally beginning to live less hindered by his demons.
It helps that his last album, ‘Meet The Humans‘ was the best solo release since the chaotic implosion of the much-loved Beta Band, a concoction of African rhythms, folk, soul and psychedelia which recalled the likes of Wetherall-inspired era Primal Scream (Screamer Martin Duffy is a Hove neighbour). Whilst its cosmic sentiment swims against the modern tide to an extent, it hasn’t stopped the people of Leeds from selling out the Belgrave’s intimate performance space, even on a Monday night which for many other of the city’s endless run of bars amounted to mass desolation.
Happiness is a theme; Mason points out his sister is in the audience having made a, “VIP space of her own out of a f*cking chair”, before acknowledging to the crowd the dangers of wearing sunglasses in the near dark but admitting he was, “Prepared to fall off this stage for fashion”. Icebreaking. Done.
It’s self deprecation that’s unnecessary as a set deservedly rich with new material – and no requests for gnarled Beta Band standards – is given a reciprocally warm and genuine audience reception. They’ve come prepared for both a little mind expansion as well as to be entertained, a cerebral tweak as codified as any on opener ‘Never Be Alone‘, a song which embraces consciousness and quotes the long dead prophet/comedian Bill Hicks. Mason’s lyrical starkness – never agit prop but with words rarely wasted – is wisely sketched through music rich in welcoming, uncomplicated arrangements – ‘Seen It All Before‘ mentioning madness and regret but shuffling with a safely danceable, piano-led melancholy.
Contrast this with some of ‘Meet The Humans’ affirmational song titles – ‘Another Day‘, ‘Alright‘, ‘Alive‘ – and you get a better drift of where his head is now. The latter especially sounds like the sloganeering of a man with more than enough fight left in him, as clear and simple a song as he’s written since he and his old band seemed on the verge of international everything.
The old foes do still remain however, if viewed from a more sardonic viewpoint. Here the stick it to the man ire of ‘Water Board‘ is that of the average Wayne’s enslavement to society’s ritual, whilst in the flesh the sentiments are musically slightly harder, more muddy, and throb with the energy of someone on the longest winning streak they can remember.
And if there’s no escape from this event horizon called just getting by? We get the answer in the encores, via a particularly heartfelt and funky version of ‘Fire‘, then in ‘Fight Them Back‘, its baseball bat toting call to arms as vital as ever, delivered through ever smiling, gritted teeth that invite the suits to turn their back for just long enough.
We may end up being mad as hell and not going to take it any more, but it’s a trip back to happiness again, and wonder, which squares the night’s circle. ‘Planet Sizes‘ is ‘Meet The Humans’ high point, imbued with the innocence and awe of a child in contemplation of the things they cannot know. Here it’s as much about connecting the audience as performing it for them, reminding the gathered of the stands of DNA which make us so uniform we spend decades trying to be different.
Steve Mason’s been down that road of course, both the high one and the low at various times: tonight isn’t about that journey; what was broken or how it was fixed, more like a re-birthday party where everyone gets a present, young or old.
The greatest gift you can possess, you might say.
