The tickets for this concert cost way more than I normally pay- but as with years ago, when I saw Black Sabbath at the 02 Arena in Greenwich, I have wanted to see Colin (pardon the informality) sing for years and years, and now seemed as good a time as any.
Geoff Travis was next along in the queue, so luckily the waiting time outside didn't seem so long. Some people had paid to have dinner too and they went in first. Inside, the wait was an hour. At one point I wondered if the concert was going to be cancelled, but finally the promoter took to the stage to announce the gig and a group of veteran musicians sprung on to the stage, closely followed by Colin himself.
His absolute delight at being there beamed out from him. He's a spindly chap with apparently more than the normal share of human cheekbones, but you could probably see his huge smile as far away as Hackney.
Boom! The band struck up with some solid rock, and the concert began. The first half was expertly played, but Colin's voice was drowned out at times by the enthusiasm of his band. 'Dial it back, band!', I thought, 'We want to hear him sing!'. The audience didn't appear to mind; maybe I have been spoiled by listening to a lot of bands in small venues where adjustments to sound happen at stage level as much as at mixing desk level. It wasn't that they weren't listening to him, more that they needed to play as though they had never heard the songs before, and as though they were having a musical conversation with him.
Colin himself was mesmerising. There was never any doubt that he was going to hit those high notes. He was pitch perfect and very very comfortable in his own skin. Blunstone is self-effacing: during the hard times, he told us, he'd recorded jingles for cheesy companies we'd never heard of.
There was a break in the middle, after which the band was going to play the album One Year. I almost decided to go home at that point, but I'm very glad that I didn't. A four-piece string section came to the stage, and this time around the band deferred to Colin's voice. The string players were quite dramatic at first, playing with a lot of flourishes, but after couple of songs it became apparent just how perfectly aligned they were with the music. They had excellent tempo, for a start. They played perfectly in time with each other with no conductor, and no drums. Such intricate string arrangements must be exceptionally difficult to play, calling on all of the skills that the players have in their string-player's arsenal. They kept a steady pace throughout the most exposed vocal and string-section parts of the songs, and here the band came much more into its own, demonstrating much more a feeling of subtlety and nuance.
Oh the songs! What a collection of beautiful songs they are, so well-curated. Earlier, Colin had told us how much he loves writing songs (instantly, I was on-side), but he is also an excellent interpreter of songs written by other writers (including Billy Bragg), and this became more and more apparent during this second set. He finished with the Denny Laine song Say You Don't Mind, which here and on the bootleg recording that I already have (thanks DC!!) was a little too fast-paced musically for it's yearning lyrics, but that's what records are for, innit? I'm going to listen to the recorded track in just a minute.
There was an encore, but it was time for me to leave due to the fact that I turn into a pumpkin at 11.30 p.m. if I'm still out. Still in my head is the image of that lean, smiling man with jacket-sleeves a million miles away from his wrists: an other-worldly, magical character with an immensely powerful voice like a tempered scream, and a gently humorous approach to the pompousness of 1970s rock music. The man has paid his dues in full and deserves his place on the stage in front of an adoring audience like this. Rock on, Colin: there's plenty of fuel left in that tank.
