The music endures
A simple story of how music abides, even when friendships wain.
On October 15 1982, together with three school friends, I made my way to what was then known as the Hammersmith Odeon to see my favourite band of all time — Ultravox — in concert.
I had been introduced to the band a few years earlier by one of our group who had insisted that I listen to a then unknown song called Vienna. It was a life-defining moment. It was as if I had been searching for a sound my entire life; and there it was in four minutes and 37 seconds of overblown, grandiose pomposity, the likes of which I had never heard before. I was hooked the moment that singer Midge Ure opened his mouth to sing. I remain hooked to this day.
On that night in October 1982, the four of us sat in awe. This was not a concert; it was a spectacle; the stage lit eerily in green; the sound swelling to reach us 17-year olds huddled up in the cheap seats.
The show ended with what remains my greatest concert memory. Ultravox played the song “The Voice” but, rather than fading out like the version on vinyl, this went in a different direction. While Warren Cann punished the drums like they had somehow offended him, Billy Currie’s keyboards wailed. Meanwhile (and unseen), singer Ure and bassist Chris (Allen) Cross took their positions behind two of…
