Brighton's best...
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Patti Smith...
review “Sixteen and time to pay off," Patti Smith begins, book in hand, whippet-thin, grey-haired, not sorry. “I got this job in a piss factory inspecting pipe…" The crowd erupt at opener 'Piss Factory', and have virtually imploded with delight by the conclusion: “And I'm gonna go, I'm gonna get out of here…I'm gonna be somebody…I'm gonna be a big star and I will never return…to burn out in this piss factory, And I will travel light. Oh watch me now". She sweeps her hand over the heads of the crowd and grins: “Here I am…!".Indeed here Patti Smith is, and she's in Puckish form. She's 58 and wears it like twenty-two - a cocksure beat-punk spitting tight verses, flanked by the ghosts of Ginsberg and Mapplethorpe. It being the 28th Anniversary of Elvis Presley's death, Smith shares the stage with a lifesize cardboard cutout of The King and delivers a tribute with a knowing smile. The evening has an air of whimsy and gentle humour - “Don't feed hospitality biscuits to the seagulls…" Smith advises during one of several daft anecdotes. If that seems slightly incongruous from the Godmother of Punk well, this is a show that both confounds and exceeds expectations. The 'Horses' tracks seem as fresh as if they were written yesterday, surely a result of Smith's recent Meltdown performance of the album in its entirety. 'Land:Horses' is deftly and spontaneously reworked so that tonight Johnny's “wearing swimming trunks that are getting a little itchy, and he's thinking about shedding layers of skin, like a snake…" I'm itching for 'Rock N Roll Nigger' and someone else is calling plaintively for 'Hey Joe'. Smith doesn't perform either tonight but we do get 'Redondo Beach', 'Dancing Barefoot' and a gobsmacking 'Free Money'. In front of me boys with crew cuts sway together and old punks wear beatific expressions. It's easy to ignore the momentary clarinet tootling and forgive the soft rock of 'People Have The Power' and 'Because the Night' (sorry, that never really hit the spot for me) - this is a magical evening, with a rendition of 'Gloria' that leaves me punch-drunk with pleasure. “Jesus died for somebody's sins - but not mine". After a two-hour gig Smith skips off with a salute. Poetry in motion.
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