Infectious tunes, slightly disturbing flirtations, and masterclasses in wicked insults – the surprising formula for a brilliant gig, as Scottish rockers The Vaselines expertly display during their winning set in a fairly packed Whelans. With just two albums to their name, they dig out the greatest hits and everything else too, wowing an eclectic mix of fans gathered inside for the evening’s entertainment.
Given the band’s tumultuous history, it’s actually a minor miracle that they’re here at all. Frances McKee and Eugene Kelly, a couple at the time, formed The Vaselines in 1987 before splitting, in every sense, only two years later. It has taken famous endorsements from some Kurt Cobain chap and a hefty twenty year hiatus to earn them the reverential cult status they enjoy today, and so, after releasing their second album last year, anticipation runs high for this reunion tour.
A bit of a mix-up at the ticket office means we miss the first few numbers but, judging by the rapturous cheering we can hear from outside, the crowd are more than happy to welcome these old friends back. Arriving in to the opening chords of Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For A Sunbeam, it’s clear that everyone, on stage and off, relishes being here. Flanked by members of Belle and Sebastian on guitar and bass, McKee and Kelly exude the kind of unpretentious, laid back coolness that immediately puts everyone at ease and allows for some, shall we say, uninhibited responses from the crowd.
New tracks such as I Hate The 80s and Whitechapel are scattered throughout, but it’s the old favourites like Son Of A Gun and Dying For It which get people most excited. The Vaselines do a great line in mixing the pop sensibilities of impossibly catchy, hook-laden melodies with the darker edginess of sometimes angsty, usually wildly suggestive lyrics. McKee and Kelly constantly swap vocals and harmonies, with the band switching from the dream-pop stylings of Slushy to more energetic, punchy numbers like Sex Sux (Amen) in an instant.
The presence of their Belle and Sebastian guests makes for a really well-rounded sound, and each song is treated with real love. There’s not a dull moment to be had.
Before long, the band have the crowd in the palm of their hands, and everyone in the room seems to develop an instant infatuation with Frances McKee, with some terribly unsavoury offers – it’s probably wise not to go into details – shouted up from the back. (I’m no expert on chat-up lines, but I doubt these were winners). Her innocent smile betrays a hilariously cruel humour: with Kelly trying to fix a glitch, she quips “ah, technical hitch. Happened all the time when we went out”. It’s the kind of jibe anyone would kill to give, and leads to some Jeremy Kyle-esque jeering: music and love-life drama, true value for money.
Finishing on a suitably raucous note with Dum-Dum, the band leave on a high. “Thanks so much; we were expecting nothing, and we get such a reaction. It’s great” cries Kelly as he walks off. There’s no need for such modesty. The Vaselines know how to rock without even trying; we just hope they come back sooner next time.
By Orlaith Grehan.
