The Hold Steady, Shepherds Bush Empire, London

Hold Steady shows - definitely shows, not gigs - are special, they’re occasions, events. We gather, my gig buddies and I, for this band. We get party, we get pretty, we all head towards the centre of the city (or a bit west of the city tonight). They unite our disparate tastes in a way few others do. And this is a Friday night show, oh man, let’s throw some Hold Steady-isms at that thought; killer parties? Massive nights? This can surely only go one way. But, damn, and damn again, there’s only a 7 top right of this page. Let’s get this straight from the start though, that mark-out-of-ten, that seven; that’s a Hold Steady seven. They’ve raised the bar so high previously that they don’t get marked on the same scale as others. Most groups could only dream of a Hold Steady seven.

And so, yeah, tonight doesn’t quite reach their normal peaks. Maybe it‘s the anticipation, maybe this works better in smaller venues, or bigger venues. Maybe there’s a couple of songs missing which normally make the show. Maybe a couple of weaker numbers take their place. So ok, it’s not a killer party but this band still burst with killer moments, are still so capable of capturing hearts and minds. And that thing, the hearts and minds thing, that’s the crux of The Hold Steady, that‘s what‘s got us here again. Don’t think we’d be gathered if it was just the rock. We don’t rock, not like this, not with fists-raised, beer-crunching, finger-pointing. It’s not dumb, it’s nowhere near dumb. In fact it’s real smart; knows when to build, when to lay-off, when keyboard or brass is more necessary than guitar. Knows. Exactly. When. It’s. Timeforthechorus. Just saying there’s no real precedent amongst us (somewhere, reading this, gig buddy Rob will forlornly be pointing at his Springsteen records), but hey, maybe we’ve needed it. We sure as hell love these moments, so fists are raised, beers are crunched and fingers point heavenwards with heartfelt, joyous enthusiasm.

But it’s not what makes The Hold Steady special. They matter, they stand out amongst the prevalent detritus, because they’ve got something to say and the brains to say it; stories to tell, salutary lessons that need to be frantically relayed. In a time when so much is vacuous and vapid - seriously, did a hotly tipped band-of-the-moment really just rhyme ‘sex’ with ‘ex’ and think that’s enough? It’s not, it’s really not, it’s nowhere near enough - The Hold Steady are vital, lucid and rapid. Dealing in the specifics and the minutiae of humanity with such clarity, such focus, such awareness that it’s breathtaking. They’re not judging, they’re not preaching, these are lives they’ve led and are living. Messed up boys and messed up girls exhausted, broken, collapsing, rising and collapsing again. They‘d never tell you to live these lives, but you kind of want to, and you definitely want to live them with The Hold Steady; ‘Me and my friends are like the drums on Lust For Life… me and my friends are like doublewhiskycokenoice’. They do ‘whoa, how do they know that about my life’ without resorting to cliché. If ‘Magazines’ says nothing to you then count yourself lucky, I hope it never does. If ‘Hurricane J’ doesn’t make you want to be a hero then nothing will, and if you’re not moved by ‘We Can Get Together‘, either by the seemingly simple soft repetition of ‘heaven is whenever, we can get together’ or the reference to Heavenly’s drummer then you might not be human.
 During the chimes of ‘Killer Parties’ Craig Finn breaks into his ‘so much joy’ testifying speech and spines tingle. He’s got such much faith in how important this all is, how much it matters. The dude’s desperate to let us know how much he believes that if you care enough then music, a band, a song, a chorus can make a difference. ‘We’re the Hold Steady, you’re London, and we fucking love you’. Right back at ya Hold Steady. Man, and that was only a seven show.