Ariel Smith Photos
A woman whispered excitedly to her companion, flitting by the side of the stage to peer at the setlist.
“They’re opening with Anthrax,” she said.
She meant “Love Like Anthrax,” and she was in good company: as we waited for post-punk legends Gang of Four to take the stage, various attendees crept closer to the stage, hands in their pockets, casually leaning over the speakers for an idea of what was to come, as if catching a glimpse of the set list was an illicit activity in the semidarkness we inhabited together.
Gang of Four smashed into town on Wednesday night for a set at the Space Ballroom in Hamden. It wasn’t the original iteration of the four, but it was a satisfying show, comprised of Tobias Humble (drums), Thomas McNeice (bass), John Sterry (vocals), and Andy Gill (a combination of stoic guitar and even more stoic vocals).
By the time the headliners came on stage, the room was crowded, the beer was flowing, and the half hour in between sets had stretched into a veritable eternity. The New Haven-based Spit-Take opened the show with a rollicking introduction: they were loud, they were proud, and they bestowed upon us us punk songs about the NBA as people filtered in. As they exited, several concertgoers pressed up against the front of the stage, yelling and whistling, palpable impatience personified.
The best way to describe Sterry’s entrance is in a burst: he didn’t shy away from the attention of the lights, and seemed to know exactly where to move so that they hit his face just right. He strode back and forth, first sinuously placing his foot on the speaker, next leaning down toward us to close the physical gap with familiarity, but never looking right at us — acutely establishing the distance between performer and viewer. And what a performance it was.
McNeice was having a ball on bass, whipping around, touching almost every corner of the stage, bringing an energy his eldest bandmate did not reciprocate. Gill remained utterly inscrutable and deadpan throughout the performance. Then again, he was the founding member of one of the most influential post-punk bands in history, and still cared enough to be hoofing it on the road at 63, sharing his art. His stage presence was anticlimactic, but it was a distinct choice.
Gang of Four took us through a few of the older songs, with Sterry bringing out a half moon tambourine for 1981’s “What We All Want”; during a rendition of 1995’s “I Parade Myself,” he waved a languid good-bye at us. It was a performance that felt however many times removed from the original group’s composition; not quite self-aware, but thoroughly content to hurtle through the present on an enjoyable homage to the past.