Mott the Hoople
Two Miles From Live Heaven
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Mott the Hoople
Two Miles From Live Heaven
Angel Air, 2001
RiYL: David Bowie, The Stones, Queen |
Well, that might be a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. And if there's one band that's tried their damnedest to recreate their live material on CD, its Mott the Hoople.
Mott the Hoople?
Yes, yes, Mott the Hoople. I believe I've answered this question umpteen times in the hallowed halls of Nude As The News, but for those who haven't read my endless blather on the all-time coolest cult band ever, here's the briefest of brief primers: Mott the Hoople launched their up and down career in rock n' roll in 1969, cut records edgier than the Stones, harder than Zeppelin, and flashier than the New York Dolls, but couldn't get a break until 1972, when some upstart rocker named David Bowie gave 'em the hit tune they needed, "All The Young Dudes."
The song pushed Mott to the brink of superstardom, but self-destruction in 1974 left the door open for another flashy group to become the biggest band in the planet. That group, by the way, was Queen.
Mott's album sales before Bowie never took off, but the band was always known for raucous and riotous live performances. And even after Bowie, the group used its rock-star status to add some spice and sizzle to their shows, including platform boots, obnoxious jewelry, and ugly make-up. Hey, it was the 1970s, you know.
But one thing's for damned sure: these boys from England could rock. Whether performing in small, sweaty clubs for 100 kids, or selling out a week-long residency in Times Square, Mott the Hoople put on a show that no one in the crowd would forget.
Or so I'm told. Seeing how the band played their last show a year before I was born, I've certainly never even had a remote chance to see the band live. All I've had is a few Ian Hunter solo shows over the past two years (which were awesome, by the way), and a handful of bootlegs and live releases. And with each one -- you guessed it -- as soon as Lady Rock n' Roll hikes up her skirt, Mr. CD Player-bouncer dude throws me out on the hard concrete of reality.
So each time we get a new live release, I jump on, hoping one day that concrete reality gets a little softer. And with Angel Air's newest offering, Two Miles From Live Heaven, a two-CD set combing certain slices of the band's live material, that damn concrete is as hard as ever.
The album has its flaws, the chiefest being that with so many live releases -- I have five, I can think of at least three others that I don't own -- there's a lot of crossover. I don't think I can even count how many live versions of "All The Young Dudes" or "All The Way To Memphis" I have in my collection, NOT counting the three Ian Hunter live records I have.
And Two Miles does commit the carnal sin of putting the same song, the aforementioned and ubiquitous "All The Young Dudes," one the album more than once. That's never good, no matter how good the song is.
That said, if you're looking for THE definitive live Mott the Hoople CD (and really, who isn't?), this is it. Containing such live rarities as the dark and moody "No Wheels To Ride," the pensive and soothing "Angel Of Eighth Avenue," and some unearthed demos, Two Miles renders obsolete just about all the other Mott live albums in existence.
Perhaps the coolest thing about the album is the banter between the band and the audience, an aspect that many bands today seem to neglect. These days, a lot of groups tend to distance themselves from the crowd by not engaging the audience in any sort of personal way. A band like Wilco, for example, will put on a kick-ass show, but it almost feels routine, almost like they're putting on a seminar called Concerts 101 each time they perform.
Mott, on the other hand, pushed, pulled, prodded, and challenged the audience everytime out. If they didn't like you, the club, or the opening/closing act, it came out in their performance. This aggression is felt early and consistently throughout Two Miles, notably between "Whiskey Women," the rootsy rave-up lambasting American groupies, and "Walkin' With A Mountain," a smash-mouth blues tune reeking of the Stones.
Between songs, Ian Hunter takes it to the lackadaisical crowd: "If you feel like doing anything besides wanking and knitting, which is about the level it is right now, feel free to do whatever you like."
Now THAT'S chutzpah, or whatever that word is.
And as the band blasts into "Walkin' With A Mountain," I can see Lady Rock N' Roll, batting her eyes, blowing me kisses, and hiking her skirt. But then the song fades, and the CD ends all too soon, and I feel Mr. Bouncer Dude CD player tossing me out one more time.
RODEO ROB | An expert on all things "alt," Rob spends his days covering the energy industry and his nights covering the DC-area bars. Raise yer glass especially high to this man, for he has contributed to this site constantly since its creation four years ago.