As the music industry struggles to acclimatise to the brave new online era, it's somehow fitting that the first major gig of the year should see the Forum sold out by a band without a record deal. That the band should be Gene, for years routinely scorned by the pop cognoscenti and correspondingly adored by the sort of people for whom ridicule is positively nothing to be scared of, is rich indeed. It would be hard to conceive of a less revolutionary torch-bearer for this new-millennium malarkey.
Gene probably appreciate the irony. This is, after all, the band who last year pre-empted an invite to the opening of the Dome with the vehemently off-message romp As Good as it Gets, introduced here with typical understatement by Martin Rossiter. "In my dreams, this is the national anthem," gasps Gene's determinedly quotable frontman. Considering his group's backs-to-the-wall situation and his fondness for striking pugilistic poses, Rossiter is surprisingly reticent, which suggests either quiet confidence in his eventual vindication, or else is testimony to the mellowing properties of age and fatherhood upon this once Most Punchable Man In Pop. As Rozzer minds his language, the stage is set for his colleagues to demonstrate why Gene have endured beyond many of their mid-90s contemporaries: they are a great live band.
Indeed, bald statistics suggest that there are people who regularly see them play but do not buy their records. There's no doubt that if any of Gene's three albums rocked as hard, ached as keenly or were as uninhibited as this performance, then their creators might have surfed the Britpop wave more successfully. Among a brace of new compositions, You stands out as quintessential quality Gene: overwrought, unafraid of flaunting its heart and with huge melodic swells from guitarist Steve Mason. So exhilarating is his sweat-flecked, scissor-kicking belief in the redemptive qualities of rock 'n' roll that he remains the band's chief weapon against their detractors.
Dodgy's Matthew Priest guests on drums for a few numbers, but otherwise there are few surprises. It's the way Gene's people prefer it. They like the new songs, but they like the old ones better. And tellingly, Gene don't mind playing the old ones at all. Time moves on, politicians' promises wither, but Be my Light, Be my Guide still gets them going. We could all meet up again same time, next year. Who needs a record deal anyway?
