Review: Hawkwind, O2 Academy

Hawkwind are an undervalued cornerstone of the British rock scene. Occasionally and grudgingly acknowledged by the fashion police, they have been producing ground-breaking music for the best part of 50 years and have been a rarely acclaimed influence on dozens of bands and even whole genres.

Sure, there have been misfires and the band has an, ahem, chequered history in terms of lineups, but, with some judicious editing, the band can claim a spectacularly solid canon of work and have delivered stunning live shows that rival many of their contemporaries and indeed current bands. When acts as diverse as the Pistols, Primal Scream, Monster Magnet and Ty Seagall cover their tunes and/or cite the band as an influence, they must be acknowledged as more than one-hit space-rock wonders.

The current lineup – Dave Brock on guitar, Mr Dib on vocals and effects, Haz Wheaton on bass, Richard Chadwick on drums and Magnus Martin on keyboards (supplemented by Michel Sosna on saxophone) are touring their latest long player Into the Woods, a damn fine recording hot on the heels of the equally fine The Machine Stops – both chart albums and both an emphatic return to form.

Choosing to support themselves with an acoustic set was an excellent idea as the band provided the perfect start to the evening. It might have been sweltering outside but the band were relaxed and laid back, delivering an eclectic set with a warm fat sound against a bucolic backdrop with dragonflies flitting through the woods. Opening with Quark, Strangeness and Charm was a smart move – a quirky deep cut for the fans and yet a tune catchy enough for first-timers to enjoy.

That tune and the half dozen or so other songs performed were ideally suited to warm up the crowd and provide a whistle stop tour of the bands ginormous back catalogue (73,342 songs, approx.). We Took the Wrong Step Years Ago may have originally been recorded four and a half decades ago but its message is even more pertinent these days, and the rendition sounded fantastic.

The Watcher was received with massive affection for its author, the erstwhile Count Motörhead himself, again an old side but its dystopian paranoia ideally suited to 2017. There was plenty of laughter on stage too, the introduction to The Watcher referenced Lemmy and Dik Mik resulting in back-and-forth banter about speed and more, all reinforcing the mellow start to the night and ably demonstrating the strong band between band and Hawknerds.

The humour took a Pythonesque turn for the weird when the Captain mentioned Chadwick’s career as a DJ on Radio Frome resulting in the reappearance of his co-presenter Badger (a death metal loving hand puppet possibly inspired by a senior band member). Decorating several tunes with languid saxophone added extra texture and Mr Dibs was more than adept with numbers recorded with Bob Cavert on vox, notably a plangent Age of the Microman. The set ended to a raucous response as the Captain lead the crew off stage with a promise to return with “electric music”.

Hawkwind continue to push themselves as a band and the acoustic set was a bravura move, let’s hope they consider a proper full acoustic tour, maybe in smaller seated venues – they have the catalogue and they have the chops to make for a fabulous two hours of back catalogue reinvention. Their promise of “electric music” was amply fulfilled as the main set opened with a battering rendition of Earth Calling / Born to Go, its primal, pounding riff launching the mothership on a crowd pleasing stellar odyssey, the band still burning a new clear way through space and leaving no star unturned.

The full set also darted around the band’s catalogue, the evergreen Magnu / Golden Void still managing to sound satisfyingly threatening, uplifting and cosmic; Into the Woods was a dark, brooding, menacing riff monster with a twisted nursery rhyme vibe to the chorus and Vegan Lunch quirky and light. Naysayers have often accused the band of ramshackle and sloppy live performances, but the shows since the Warrior… tour have been supremely tight, albeit with plenty of controlled extemporisation and improvisation that serve the show rather than wandering off in to needless noodling.

Brock is riffing and soloing like a man half his age, complimenting the superb lead bass from Wheaton, both riding Chadwick’s percussive thunder and Dibs is totally in command of his role as frontman. Martin is finding his feet on keyboards but shone with his acoustic lead work in the support set and frankly Sosna should be retained for future recordings and shows – the band really sound like Hawkwind with a saxophone. Hmm, wonder if he plays violin because band really sound like Hawkwind with a…

There was but one encore: an unusual end to any Hawkwind gig but a juddering Brainbox Pollution was a thundering climax to the evening, one of those (relatively) succinct tunes that reminds all why Michael Moorcock referred to the earliest incarnation of the band as treating their instruments and music like barbarians. Sure, they may have evolved into a sophisticated band with an oeuvre easily as challenging and erudite as their more lauded contemporaries, but they’ve always been capable of face-melting proto-punk too.

We’re two years away from the band’s fiftieth anniversary and under the Captain’s guidance you can be sure there will be two more years of quality new music and mind-blowing live shows. Providing, of course, they don’t have to protect us from the Trump trying to reactivate the Death Generator buried at the Earth’s core.

Hawkwind played the O2 Academy on May 24.

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