21. Gary Numan
The Forum
1 June 2012
I think we are far enough into this peculiar pilgrimage of mine that you’ll know Gary Numan didn’t just kickstart my return to live music, he rebooted my musical operating system. The full, overwrought saga of what he meant to teenage me is catalogued elsewhere in these ramblings, so I’ll spare you the repeat therapy notes. But let’s just say: this Machine Music tour didn’t feel like a gig, it felt like a rite of passage.
This was Numan rifling through the deep crates of his years of decline from the top ten; that golden era when he veered from post-apocalyptic leather fetishist (Warriors) to haunted New Romantic detective (Dance). The music press at the time eviscerated him, they always did, but for me, those records were sacred and unimpeachable.
My best mate and I waited, wide-eyed and ready to be time warped as he opens with “Berserker”, a track so rarely played live it is almost mythical. Then “Warriors”, played live for the first time since 1983, back when shoulder pads could legally be classified as weapons. Just when I thought it couldn’t get more deliciously obscure, he whips out “I Still Remember” from The Fury, an album most people try to forget purely because of the cursed red bow tie cover, which made him look like a maître d’ at a synthpop casino. Setting all that aside, it is still an excellent track, despite the wrapping.
Then, if that weren’t enough of a deep cut, he plays “Call Out the Dogs” by Dramatis, his old backing band who, all those years ago he abandoned unceremoniously when he jacked it all in and swanned off to become a stunt pilot. This time though, it’s a tender tribute to Cedric Sharpley, Tubeway Army’s drummer, who’d recently passed. A moment of genuine heart in a sea of analogue darkness.
For long-haulers like me, it was the kind of setlist you dream about but assume will never happen. A one-night-only nostalgia binge, heavy on the deep cuts, light on the greatest hits, and soaked in synths.
He hasn't played most of these songs live since this night and maybe that’s the point, nostalgia, when done right, shouldn’t be a permanent fixture. It’s a flickering VHS tape. A rush of eyeliner-smeared memory. A voice calling out from the past just long enough to make your throat catch. But tonight, for a couple of rare, glorious hours, Gary Numan gave us all permission to go back. To remember: leather, lasers, red bow ties and all.