FUN BOY THREE
THE PLACE was wet with
anticipation. The first Fun Boy Three
gig. All day long I'd been hoping someone
would come up to me and say "Have
you seen this band before?" To which
I could reply "No, which one's Jerry
assumed a position on the balcony,
observing the crushed populace of the
front rows and hearing excited shrieks
from the massed throats of very young
females greeting the end of each interval
record. Periodically there were bayings
of "Terry, Terry" and, once, an
assembly singalong to 'Ghost Town'.
darkness the women instrumentalists
emerge. Following a brief pre-recorded
vocal snatch of 'Faith, Hope And Charity'
they strike up a backing. On run Lynval,
Neville and Terry. Big cheers, bright
atmosphere reminded me of a Jam or Duran
Duran gig, events where the fanatical
adulation and size of the venue could
often occlude any possibility of
communication or warmth between audience
and performer. Not so with the Fun Boy
Three. Neville and Terry are void of the
assumed kind of pop 'charisma' and the
practised adoption of 'star quality'.
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