The Man In The Red Suit Or How The British Still Love Lurve...

In Concert - Alexander O'Neal
The Alex Loves Tour
Tunbridge Wells, Kent

Saturday 15th March 7.30pm

Born in November 1953, Alexander O Neal was pretty much destined to become the king of retro- soul. Big shouldered and probably the only man on earth who can swim the butterfly successfully, he strutts around, throwing arm gestures at the drummers when he wants them to round up a song. Prancing up and down on stage from the early 1980’s, he was firstly known for his wild antics on stage using a bed and inviting poor unsuspecting females from the audience to come up on stage and cavort around while he sang them into bed. Perhaps, and it wasn’t until I saw him in concert, that it dawned on me where UK home grown star, Lenny Henry found his inspiration for his love machine character, Theophilus P Wildebeest. It takes a long time for me to get these things sometimes...

So the original lurrve machine is knocking on now and don’t be fooled, he may have had noticeably had surgery recently and perhaps doesn’t jump up and down on a bed, so much as perch a buttock on a bar stool these days, yet his voice has never once failed him – like Elvis, in a concert only six weeks before he died, we will, inevitably be saying the same thing about Mr O’Neal.

So he doesn’t sell out at Wembley Arena anymore and he is a long way from Vegas, but he is happy in Tunbridge Wells on a miserable night next to the cop shop and we are happy to have him there – okay, so “Are you ready for some lurve, Tunbridge?” Doesn’t have the same romantic, Manhattan ring to it, especially when the crowd yell back “Wells! It’s Wells!” after him – yet we amazed by this American presence who loves his UK audience, so much that for the last few years, he doesn’t seem to have set a foot outside Croydon. Yet that suit can still deliver as well as twenty odd years ago, he was the god of soul and just about any middle class, middle aged woman would have still rather thrown her kickers on stage at Mr O'Neal than Tom Jones and yes, even at 55, he still gets that - except on this occasion, it was the bra that came off, then was promptly and rather unattractively stuffed back on her top heavy chest in front of the man himself - he averted his eyes - as only a "all true man" would...

He strolled on stage, surgery allowing, at the Assembly Halls on his last night for “a while.” He toll of touring takes it’s heavy toll in the visual presence of either weight loss or sets of wrinkles across the forehead, visible only from the third row back. Yet when he decided to turn the show into a “party” instead, we all got a good look at what life on the road really means.

The band were uniform, black musicians, very talented and at the beck and call from the master in the fire engine red suit. His backing singers, bountiful and dressed like Mica Paris also were to the heel of the big man, each sang professionally, which seems an odd thing to say, but in this day and age when we are presented with the sloppiest of bands on the Brits, it’s mildly comforting to see a band not only dress well, work together but managed to hit the same key. The big guy wouldn’t have it any other way of course, his vocal uplifts and represents a fading era of soul artists – real ones, who sing about love, romance, always getting the girl and never in a minor key – that helps - as a rule, I can’t stand ballads and only Whitesnake would be an exception here, yet when it comes to Mr O’Neal you not only will forgive him anything but you’ll be there saying to yourself, “Gee, I know how that feels!”

He was solidly on stage for an hour – another feat of endurance that is rarely seen these days. I remember donning a grassy hillock to see Level 42 last year in the shadows of a castle on a chilly August eve, and wondering why on earth I had paid an extortionate amount of money to see my teenage heroes only on for 40 minutes – a disgrace I thought, so to see a grown man, sweating in a way that only Lee Evens would be proud of, I was gingerly impressed.

Since gathering up a normal level of hearing again, I have managed to dig out the old LP’s, have a jive to a few classic dance numbers as well as blow the dust off my sudo – Miami Vice jacket and dream of a long gone day of roller discos and first snogs – I even went out and bough his new album – something a very rarely do on the strength of a concert, yet it has to be said, the man may be aging and the limp getting more visible, but I beg you to find another artist who sold out at Wembley Arena twenty years ago, six nights in a row, who even now, jumps into the audience and dances with them, sings with them and shakes them warmly by the hand as he smiles and dances by – it was a party and not a gig which I witness, but an invitation to share an evening and a dance floor with one of the greatest entertainers and nicest guys in the world – love still lives and as long as Mr O’Neal is on stage – the world is a better place.....

©mduffy 2008