That 1997 Shepherds Bush Show

[Albert Tatlock]

Came across this this morning while searching for a The Whole Love review at the Guardian (not there yet). It was written a few weeks ago.

Posted just to provide some sort of reference to those newer members asking questions I've seen from time to time about this 'infamous' event. And there are plenty of details I had never heard before - though with two very different perspectives it's hard to tell quite how to interpret what may or may not have occurred.

 

I don't have a particular angle to state on it other than happy that whatever demons were involved at that time have been vanquished. "Just the facts, ma'am".

There was also the "C*cksuckers" gig at Glastonbury - I could see that as a joke that wasn't taken very well, or maybe it was just a similar bad day at the office.

Anyway. I'm pretty sure we Brits and JT have all kissed and made up now. No tongue was involved though in case you're asking.

 

 

The Worst Gig We Ever Played

Paul Lester

The Guardian

Thursday 4 August 2011 23.00 BST

.... scrolling down to the bottom ....

Wilco

Shepherd's Bush Empire, London, 1997

Maybe if I'd known about Jeff Tweedy's problems – the migraines, the addiction to painkillers to control them, the depressive illnesses – I'd have been more understanding. But there's having problems, and there's taking those problems out on 2,000 people who've paid to see you. Wilco mythology holds this as the gig where Tweedy (above) lost his temper with an unenthusiastic audience; my memory is different. I recall a musician who, from the start of the gig – the last of a world tour – gave every sign of wanting to be anywhere else. Going through the motions would be too generous a description: there was no motion about the set whatever. That's why the audience lost interest. And that, in turn, is when Tweedy started cursing and castigating us. One reviewer said this was the point at which the gig caught fire. Again, my memory is different: this was the point at which the band stopped giving half a stuff about what anyone thought. And for the encore? Tweedy didn't even bother coming out. Instead a roadie emerged to sing a ramshackle version of Black Sabbath's Iron Man. There's a coda. A while later I was buying CDs at the Virgin Megastore in central London. Jeff Tweedy was at the till next to me. I turned to him, smiling, and said I had tickets to see Wilco the following evening, and that I hoped he was feeling happier than he had been last time he'd been in London. "I'll feel however the fuck I want to fucking feel," he said, or something along those lines, and turned away. Fuck you, too, Jeff. Michael Hann

 

http://www.guardian....igs?INTCMP=SRCH

 

And here is the article referred to above - from the actual time. I myself had never seen this before either, and is quite strange:-

 

The Independent

Wilco / Shepherd's Bush Empire, London

Nick Hasted

Monday, 21 April 1997

Wilco's singer-songwriter Jeff Tweedy was maimed by rock 'n' roll, tamed by rock 'n' roll, named by rock 'n' roll, according to the most wistful song on his band's sprawling new double album, Being There. The record is a reverie on the sounds and excitements of the past, on what it means to play rock 'n' roll, and to listen to it. Wilco believe in rock 'n' roll in a touching, silly way - as a sacred essence. It's faith that gives them charm, but also sets their music's limits. On the last night of their British tour, faith and music were stretched to breaking- point. For a riveting half hour, it seemed to everyone who heard them, absurdly but undeniably, that rock 'n' roll itself was hanging in the balance.

 

For an hour before that, it was just a gig. Wilco strolled on, looking like Seventies hippies, and played like it, too. They exchanged scissor- kicks, and stretched their songs into "jams". "I want to fuck you up with rock 'n' roll," Tweedy sang, but it didn't seem likely. Until it dawned on Wilco that no one in the unmoving audience cared what they did. It was business as usual on a blase London Sunday. But to Tweedy, such behaviour at a gig was unacceptable - an insult to rock 'n' roll. He wasn't going to let it pass. He stopped the music, to spit his contempt at the crowd. He called them "snotty Brits". He offered to fight them.

 

Then he sang a song. On record, "Kingpin" is unremarkable. In the heat of Tweedy's fury, it became gigantic. He began delicately, as if he was playing to himself now. But every word had new meaning. Singing "hand- claps", he mimed the motion spastically to the crowd. Wilco drowned him in squalling noise, till all you could hear was three words - "I'm not kidding" - sung over and over, the singer still, staring, raging. Assaulted by indifference, the band were revelling in revenge. Finally, they walked off. And the crowd, in awe, stomped them back.

 

Wilco returned almost sheepishly, and Tweedy made peace. But the night's transformation wasn't finished, he knew more had to be done. So he hurled himself into the crowd, to touch as many people as he could, to make them move. He was a rock 'n' roll anti-body, a gig's desperate cure. He was forcing them to remember what a gig was for.

 

As the emotions Wilco had tapped died down, you could hear how ordinary much of the music was, why some of the indifference had occurred. But for precious minutes, everyone's sights had been raised. Sometimes, faith is enough.

 

 

http://www.independe...on-1268489.html

[froggie]

when they played shepherd's bush 1999, JT apologised for what happened in 97.

[Albert Tatlock]

Yeah, quite a few shows I've been to since there's been a little mention of it and how we've all moved on - by we I mean London in general & JT.

Btw - you seem to be the only one with a barge-pole long enough to have dared to post here :-)

[froggie]

oh, i've got a long one