Clock Opera @ Heaven 8/11/12 by Fran Jolley

November 28, 2012 by  

It?s certainly Mo-vember, but there is no excuse for the huge beard that the songwriter and chief Guy Connelly still has attached to his face tonight, unless he is raising money for all the charities in the world. That aside the rest of the band portray a lean mean fighting machine, ready to convert ?Ways To Forget? for the live arena.

Compared to the sound of Clock Opera?s debut, they are a very different beast live. The Che Albrighton?s hides behind a mop of hair, his drums vibrate Heaven?s foundations, as he pounds the skins for dear life, whilst Andy West?s bass and guitars take war against Dan Armstrong?s waves of beep and bops from the keyboard racks. They are louder more intense and make for a far more exciting experience than found on the album.

Guy Connelly stands of the fringe of the stage leaning over pleading for us to get involved, his arms stretching out to us, and he eventually wins out when they drop ?Man Made? and the young ladies in down the front are bouncing, hands in the air, whilst the older more retiring members tap feet and nod. Connelly beams out how happy he is to be back in his London home and it shows, the band are bouncing around the stage sharing in jokes and on ?Piece of String? they all share percussion duties with some items that I haven?t seen since music class in high school. ?11th hour? and ?Once For All? are received with screams of pleasure from the audience, but its set closer ?Lesson no .7? with its building intro that really shines tonight. Armstrong in gas mask (as nod to the singles video) twiddles nobs, creating layers upon layers of loops to lift up Connelly?s delicate vocals, before the bass riff kicks in and like the place erupts. The band leaves the stage, only to return briefly for us to sing along to ?Fail Better?.

A surprisingly great live act, one would have imagined a Clock Opera to be bedroom boys hiding behind their banks of keyboards and failing to engage with an audience, how wrong I was.