40. Ultravox
The O2 Arena
30 November 2013
Ultravox is the band everyone sort of likes but no one will ever admit to liking out loud. At best, they’re the musical equivalent of a supermarket own-brand tiramisu: oddly comforting, slightly over-sweetened and processed and no one remembers buying it.
Let’s be honest, most of us know Ultravox because a Greatest Hits CD mysteriously appeared in our lives during the mid-’90s. Like that U2 album that downloaded itself onto your iPhone uninvited, Ultravox: The Collection just... turned up one day. No one purchased it. No one claimed responsibility. It simply was.
I’ll admit, I was never a diehard. But I do remember the “Vienna” video: all black coats, yearning glances, and inexplicable walking-through-ruins montages. It looked like the world’s most dramatic perfume ad set to synths. And for a few months in 1981, it was apparently the only music video anyone in Britain was legally allowed to watch.
So why am I here? Because they’re opening for Simple Minds, which tells you everything about Ultravox’s current slot in the rock food chain. And when they hit the stage, it’s... fine. Polished, professional, and deeply beige. There’s a sheen to it all, but also a numbing sameness, as if they discovered one decent synth patch in 1980 and have been politely repackaging it ever since. The songs blur into each other like a soft-focus flashback montage. Midge Ure still sounds strong, the hair’s gone but the cheekbones remain defiant, and yet… you start to wonder if any of this is actually fun.
It’s the sheer bloody earnestness. Ultravox are very serious. Every song feels like it comes with footnotes and an exam question. Their song “Hymn”, in particular, is a high-water mark of pompous grandeur; part spiritual epic, part overcooked Eurovision audition, and somehow it still manages to sound like it's assigning you emotional homework.
Just when you’re starting to edge toward the bar, they hit the big guns. “Dancing with Tears in My Eyes” kicks in and suddenly, the energy shifts. You remember why these songs stuck. Yes, it’s about a nuclear meltdown, but apparently that didn't stop half the nation bopping to it like it was “Club Tropicana”. And then, finally, “Vienna”. The song. The moment.
As the opening notes echo out, grown adults bellow “Oh, VIENNA!” like they’ve been waiting their entire lives for this catharsis. And honestly? It's glorious. Somewhere, I hope the Austrian tourist board is cashing in on this free, decades-long PR campaign.
So yes, they’re a bit samey. And yes, “Hymn” is still an ordeal best endured with a double gin. But Ultravox can still deliver a moment or two of pure, soaring, synthesised euphoria. And that, my friends, is not nothing.