Evening Standard - BYLINE: Max Bell
Level 42 - Town and Country Club, March 20, 1992, Friday
When Level 42 last played London they broke Hammersmith Odeon's house record.
The band's current T&C stint is more modest and suggests that the hoary
cliche about a year being a long time in politics also applies to their
old-fashioned brand of dance music.
The boom years for Mark King's pop fusion outfit began to decline once the
band became unwitting victims of changing tastes. Rave culture - a quaint
enough notion itself these days - and the growth of DIY techno pop have
effectively swept away the muso-orientated virtuosity that is Level 42's
speciality.
Not that King of the thwacking thumbs let that cramp his style. Level 42
have spent long enough in the, er, entertainment industry to realise that
nostalgia is recession proof. Their affable brew of Club 18 to 30 ballads
and mild jazz rock still brings out the lad in force and tames the brute.
A strong streak of hits lent the showmanship credibility, though an ostentatious
light show and little bits of business like King's illuminated bass neck
and the drummer's perspex cage harked back to Wembley-type scenarios.
There was no doubting the audience's enthusiastic loyalty, however, since
material from the decidedly ropey Guaranteed album was given the same rousing
welcome as keyboards man Mike Lindup's ghastly solo offering The Spirit Is
Free.
The home straight was a doddle with Lessons In Love, Running In The Family,
Something About You and many other classics kept in reserve like vintage
lager.
Level 42 will still be around in years to come doing the Prince's Trust thingy,
that's if we've got any Princes left by then.
Smooth Soul Survivors - by Caroline Sullivan
Level 42 -Town & Country March 23, 1992 - Monday
The announcement of Level 42's eleventh album and accompanying tour has caused
little perceptible excitement. That has not stopped the album, Guaranteed,
from gliding into the Top 20, or the tickets from selling briskly. For every
sceptic who regards Level 42 as Essex Band, and their music as anodyne
cocktail-soul, there are scores of fans who like them that way. To partisans,
Level 42 are the last redoubt of polished musicianship and a reminder of
the days when dance music had proper tunes.
All of which is fine for in-car listening. This show provided an opportunity
to find out how these qualities translate to live performance.
The group had clearly devoted thought to the matter of stagecraft. ''The
William Tell Overture'' and a siren heralded their entrance. Laserbeams flashed
and Mark King's neon-lit bass guitar twinkled. The effect approximated
a Spanish disco, with some football match thrown in. A deliberate strategy?
Hard to say.
The image-consciousness touched the music, too. Gone were the famous meandering
jam sessions and in was a concise package of old singles.
Starting with a note-perfect ''Hot Water'' the hits kept coming, all harbouring
a faint flavour of the early 1980s. The bubbly funk of that period was recalled
by tunes like ''Living It Up'' and ''Heaven in Your Hands''. The former's
interplay of voices King's reedy timbre versus Mike Lindup's celestial
sweetness produced a captivating moment. The latter song, unobtrusive enough
on disc, was enlivened by bright mariachi brass fills. Both epitomise Level
42's cheery populism, which is the secret of their staying power. King,
too, deserves special mention. He is saddled with the tag of World's Best
Bass Player, which probably means little in this computer-led age. He ought
to be acknowledged equally for his wisecracking stage persona. The man is
wasted on pop music. After the dozenth excruciating one-liner it was obvious
that what he really needs is his own chat-show. Channel4, take note.
(Special thanks to Bob C for the transcriptions of these articles)
