London Lyceum

And I thought I wouldn't enjoy it! As far as I can recall, I’ve only seen two previous Orange Juice shows: one, a diabolical farce of an evening at the Venue about a year ago, and the other a lacklustre outing at this very same Mecca dance establishment just a few months back.

I'd always found the less immediate, more submerged aspects of Orange Juice more irritating than enticing. I could easily curl up and soak in the profound absurdities that are splattered through their records, but live the overall effect was too demanding. A hard, draining slog to discover the qualities lurking beneath the jangly exterior and little indication that the rewards would be worth the toil.

At this Lyceum bash (just a few hours before April Fool's Day – there's a strange justice there somewhere) the group began from a position of dominance. A 'victory' was assured, thanks to the massed legions of toe-tapping juveniles eager to find enjoyment and providing a 'proper' pop audience for the group to play with (rather than patronise).

To continue reading this article and to discover many more (over 140,000 words-worth!), purchase Mick Sinclair’s Adjusting the Stars: Music journalism from post-punk London.