By Brian Cohen (Daily Arts Writer)
08.03.1998
Shrouded in a sky full of storm clouds involving rumors about break-ups and poor ticket sales, The Verve made a noticeably nonchalant entrance into Pontiac's Phoenix Amphitheater last Wednesday for the second date of the most important tour in the band's eight-year career.
The casual American audience member could never guess the turmoil the group is currently enduring. Prior to The Verve's stateside departure, lead guitarist Nick McCabe initiated an indefinite split with the band and decided not to participate in any of the group's future live dates.
And even though this was not the first time McCabe had distanced himself from the group (the band already went through an official breakup following the 1995 release of its second album, "A Northern Soul"), this time, he had left his band-mates stranded with a string-full of touring commitments, with no way of reproducing his unique sound responsible for the unmistakable appeal of the band's award-winning album "Urban Hymns."
So, what to do?
The Verve was already forced to scrap plans for a previous U.S. tour back in April when lead singer Richard Ashcroft's haunting gaze graced the cover of Rolling Stone.
So instead of postponing another trip to America, Ashcroft decided that the show must go on, seeing that the band had yet to fully tap into its American commercial success.
This tour marks the first time The Verve has played live without McCabe.
In hopes of filling his tremendous void, veteran pedal-steel guitarist B.J. Cole was drafted into the lineup, noted for his guest work on "Urban Hymns," as well as with Spiritualized, Elton John and Beck.
But due to McCabe's departure, opener Massive Attack decided to leave the tour as well, since original venues such as Madison Square Garden and the Chicago's Rosemont Horizon were canceled in favor of much smaller theaters and ballrooms.
Wednesday's stop in Detroit was originally scheduled to take place at The Palace, but was then switched to the outdoor Phoenix Amphitheater in Pontiac about a week before the show.
Despite a slightly tinkered set-list and a few stretches of noticeably absent guitar solos, the band managed to keep things on the plateau of divinity for virtually the entire evening.
From the opening salvo of "Space and Time" on through to the chilling rumble of "Lucky Man," Ashcroft became obsessed with pouring his soul into each word, realizing oh so clearly that this could be one of the last times The Verve plays on American soil.
The audience was treated to virtually all of "Urban Hymns," plus majestic renditions of "On Your Own" and "History" from "A Northern Soul," beefed up with Peter Salisbury's chunky drum beats and Simon Jones' acrobatic bass.
Simon Tong earned his keep as well, splitting time on keyboards and guitars, making McCabe's absence all the more forgettable.
"This song is dedicated to Nancy Reagan," Ashcroft quipped, before launching into the slow and steady pulse of "The Drugs Don't Work."
Throughout the show, Ashcroft (in a flawless Midwestern American accent no less) cracked jokes about the audience's knowledge of the band's early material, guessing that most of the crowd was assembled of "people who just come out 'cause they like Nikes," since the band's hit single "Bitter Sweet Symphony" was used in several of the shoe company's commercials.
After a somewhat limp and frazzled version of "Come On," it was clear that the show was approaching the outer limits of greatness, but not quite harnessing euphoria.
Robed in a see-through black t-shirt and white linen pants, Ashcroft returned for two solo acoustic encores plucked from the rare and precious file of the Verve's expansive catalogue.
First up was a stripped-down "See You In The Next One" from 1993's debut album, "A Storm In Heaven," in which Ashcroft crooned the all-too-timely lyrics, "I like the way it was/ hate the way it is now" and "It could be a lifetime before I see you again."
Even though Ashcroft penned these words more than six years ago, they seem to have an almost spooky significance regarding the band's current state of affairs.
Next up was "So Sister," a stellar b-side from the domestic "Bitter Sweet Symphony" single, which marked the evening's high point. Ashcroft delivered a tender, sweeping vocal, neck veins protruding heroically, emitting a soulful mix of self-confidence, precision and swagger.
Then it was one final shot into the stratosphere, as the rest of the band returned to key up "Bitter Sweet Symphony."
The Verve extended the signature song into a lengthy jam and spilled into several different sections, aided by the eerie electronic noodlings of the pedal-steel guitar.
Only time will tell if The Verve can weather the many violent storms that are presently churning within its camp. It has taken the band eight years to reach its pinnacle of success, and the stateside demand for The Verve is only increasing with current single "Sonnet," the third hit off "Urban Hymns," starting to sweep the airwaves.
Although Ashcroft himself has previously admitted that it is impossible for the band to survive without McCabe, such apocryphal notions just might be put to rest very soon considering the strong live performance The Verve unfurled in his absence.
Wednesday night, the name Nick McCabe rang only the most muted bells, leaving instead the deafening sounds of a triumphant band determined to let the music speak for itself.