Music: The Selecter at CQAF

We all know that Punk’s Not Dead (though punctuation may well be) but any seasoned fashion spotter will tell you that the Harrington is the new teen must-be-seen-in item, and the sale of Dr. Martins, while never really going away, is now going through the roof. Why then, if that’s the case is tonight’s Selecter gig more likely to be attended by Ver Kids’ parents and even grandparents than any of the new, new, new mod massive?

Which is a real shame, as the immaculately dressed crowd, buoyed up by the frighteningly reasonable price of draught Erdinger (changed by my autocorrect there to Endanger) prove that you don’t need youth on your side to raise the roof anywhere – all you need is music, sweet music and in many cases the number of a reliable babysitter, or indulgence of a loving wife.

The more I see Boss Sound Manifesto, the more I like them. I like their no nonsense style, I love the keys and saxophone fully to the front and I really, really like the lazy looseness, that seeming lack of effort that only the tightest and well drilled bands can achieve.

Sure, you can complain all you want about authenticity, invoking the spectre of Sting and the dreaded (no pun intended) epithet of White Man’s Reggae, but Boss Sound Manifesto have tapped into what ska is really all about, the universal values of love, loss and never having enough money. Getting some of the old school off their feet can be a bit of a chore, but there’s quite a few up and flinging shapes with the vigour of someone half their age, nicely warmed up for the main event.

The Selecter didn’t have the bombast of Madness, or the grit of The Beat, but what they did have was the first lady of Ska, the inimitable Pauline Black, lauded by Rolling Stone Magazine as having “hands down, the best voice to ever grace a Two Tone release“. It’s in fine form tonight, as the band kick off with Three Minute Hero, track 1, side one from their 35 year old debut, the release we’re all here to mark.

She’s an entrancing front woman though, the original rude girl who makes Lily Allen look like Linda Ronstadt. Her voice is a fitting vehicle for the Selecter’s songs, politically and lyrically fraught, but backed up with the good time vibes of pre-digital dancehall ska, sparse and rolling and bringing a hint of Caribbean good times to a windswept Custom House Square. Yes, it’s a ‘heritage’ gig, but no-one wants to hear new material and it would take a total churl not to be moved to dancing by the sight of a marquee bouncing along to On My Radio.

With the setlist naturally skewed towards the Too Much Pressure album, the band rack up the momentum, powering through the back catalogue with admirable verve, their take on Monty Norman’s James Bond Theme getting the knees up and elbows bent, and the titular album track sending the faithful into a frenzy of skanking and thrown beer cups.

Tonight the oldies, both in the crowd and on stage, show us all how a gig can transform into a communal event a million miles away from camera phone selfies and a fear of looking like you’re having a good time.

Shane Horan