As Kev and myself stroll along Deansgate towards John Dalton Street and the seductive Life Café we talk idly about days gone by, when we drank much more, and generally had (at least through the warm glow of rose tinted spectacles) a fantastic time chasing girls, swilling Guinness, and whole heartedly doing whatever seemed natural in the pursuit of the good life. This, at least with Kev and me had always included going to see bands, we have a similar taste in music, and as, erm, amateur musicians ourselves have a pretty good idea of what is good and what is bad – of course not everyone would agree with us, but in the words of the late, great John Peel ‘I am right and you are wrong’.

Fortunately for the two of us, one of the bands that we have seen many times over the years has contained the scouse legend that is Mr. Ian Prowse, a song writer of the highest, and I mean the very highest here, order. ‘Prowsey’ has with his two bands, Pele and now Amsterdam delighted us with his tales of love and loss, of hope and hate, and of glorious revolution; his political heart on the sleeve approach fits right in if you find yourself meeting up with his stance on anti-globalisation, anti-establishment, anti-royal, anti-authority, anti-bloody everything...nah, he’s not that bad, honest – just think of a working class scouse hero, with the attitude of Dylan, the energy of Springsteen, and a Tranmere Rovers season ticket and you’re almost there.

Well, look, I’m getting a bit off the point here – the reason why we find ourselves ambling up Manchester’s main thoroughfare on an unseasonably balmy Tuesday night is that the aforementioned Ian Prowse and Amsterdam are in town tonight, and for one night only. So we’re going.

The Life Café is a relatively new venue, and as such it’s still what us thirty somethings would refer to as ‘a nice gaff’, it’s subterranean location, subtle and understated lighting and open brick construction give it a warm, homely, secure feeling and so we collect our ‘city centre price’ drinks from the bar with a definite feeling of comfort and confidence – this is somewhat surprising as the last two Amsterdam gigs I have attended have both resulted in disaster – but that is another story for another time, tonight we are here for the main act, and we don’t have to wait long.

The band arrive onstage with a confident, vivacious, and overtly happy aura which soon translates over to the audience. They are on the third date of the tour and obviously enjoying it immensely. They kick into ‘Takin’ on the World’ with an elevated level of gusto and the crowd respond with rapture. People here definitely know the score as they sing along passionately to the opening track of the forthcoming album. A gusty, forceful acoustic take of ‘Nostalgia’ follows sharply and then into an epic hustling and bustling ‘Joes Kiss’ dedicated to it’s inspiration Joe Strummer, wherever he may be. The way that Ian Prowse throws himself and his Telecaster into these performances you would think that the spirit of both Strummer and the (yet to be dead) aforementioned Springsteen had taken up residence somewhere in north western England.

Prowse neatly sashays into an acoustic take of ‘Understanding Sadness’, a gloriously desperate plea from the heart, originally released on the Pele ‘The Sport of Kings´ album. The band wait patiently until the denouement of the song before easing in a gentle crescendo that pushes home the sentiments home with a subtle but direct intensity you find it impossible to ignore. Next up is a triple whammy of ‘in your face’ brutally intense absolute pop rock shellshock taking in ‘The Glorious Day’, perhaps the most obvious and immediate song of the forthcoming album, the rollicking, bollocking arse kicking romp of ‘Megalomania’ and a particularly intense rip through ‘Feels Like Growin’ Up’. The tempo is relentless and the band, as one tear through the recent ‘hit single’ ‘The Journey’ with hardly a pause for breath.

The man’s left wing leanings are both admirable and apparent, and he confesses to voting Labour last week with his fingers crossed and thinking ‘fuck off Tony Blair you wanker’, some habits are just too hard to change, and you’ve got to admire Ian’s ability to reconcile himself with whatever decisions he makes in life – this is all recounted as an intro to the classic ‘You’re a Phoney’, the writers direct criticism of Blair which first surfaced some years ago. Just goes to show, you can hate a man, but the party is what matters. Someday soon Blair will be yesterday’s news, but socialist principles will always win out in the end, comrade.

Supposedly to close the set we get the new single ‘Does This Train Stop on Merseyside?’ if you haven’t heard this I insist that you track it down, it was played frequently by John Peel before he dies, and John’s wife Sheila told how the song moved him to tears, and tonight would have been no different, there is a buzzing, vibrant intensity about the performance, a melodic intensity that rips your heart from your chest, screws up your guts and drags faint tears from the back of your eyes. These moments are the times that you feel most alive, when you know that everything is totally worthwhile, when you can recognise that life is often shit, that it is more than likely going to be a battle, but that it is a battle worth fighting and winning. These are the times when you ultimately understand sadness.

The band merge the set and the encore, the two blending into one and we are treated to ‘A Town Called Malice’ where Prowse wields his Rickenbacker like a reincarnated 20 year old Weller, and then rip-roaring takes on ‘Lifestyle’ and a special ‘Raid The Palace’ (dedicated to ‘all you lot who have followed me around for so long’) which takes the roof off the place.

In one incarnation or another Ian Prowse has been crafting the most important social commentary of the last 20 years, and the forthcoming album ‘The Journey’ is a perfect tableau to present these works. If you know about this man you will buy it, if you don’t know about him, then you need to buy it. If you just like fantastic rock and roll, which tells a valid tale, eloquently, passionately and vehemently then I suggest you look out for Amsterdam.

Words by Johnny Mac
 

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