April 18, 2000

Manchester Apollo

See, they've tried most things now. But not really knowing where to go next suits [a]Gomez[/a] well...

Death and bills apart, it's the one thing in life that's guaranteed. It's human nature to believe the grass is greener on the other side, to spend so long pondering the opposite situation, we forget to enjoy the tangible here and now. It's a dangerous way to live.

Facing their tricky third album and on the first date of a sell-out UK tour, that's exactly the position Gomez find themselves in now. How they deal with it determines the band's future and whether anyone will still care this time next year.

While most bands slog their guts out to attain the recognition Gomez achieved - inadvertently giving themselves the chance to work out exactly what they're doing and why they want fame - Gomez fell into success. As everyone knows now, their debut album, 'Bring It On', won the Mercury Prize and was last year's 'The Man Who' coffee-table record of the year. It brought them everything they hadn't had time to wish for: the hysterical fans, huge tours and eager anticipation of a follow-up. Though actually a far better record, that follow-up, 'Liquid Skin', failed to imitate its predecessor's success.

Now Gomez have a straightforward choice. The fame of their debut or the lesser-known musical accomplishments of their second album. Tonight, the band play most of early B-side opener 'Steve McCroski' behind a micro-thin, black curtain draped from the ceiling. The faces are blurred and the focus is very much on what counts - the song. It highlights exactly the sort of band Gomez are. No grand entrance, no fanfare. They know they don't look like pop stars and it's merely a fluke that people thought they sounded like them.

When the curtain falls away, it becomes apparent it's not just the band in general who are torn between two future paths. The split appears to exist between band members too.

On the one hand, there's beaming, jolly Tom Gray, with the ridiculous overgrown hair and boundless enthusiasm. He jumps around, implores the audience to clap along, cheerily yells, "Goodnight Manchester!" and comments that new track 'Waster' is "as daft as a sausage". In a terrible moment of insanity, he appears dressed as a matador, complete with sombrero, sequinned bolero jacket and silken bull-fighting rag. To our bemusement, Tom is having the time of his life.

Then there's Ben Ottewell, who could belong to a different band. He dips his head throughout, focused on his guitar, taking matters very seriously indeed. He's the man with that voice, responsible for the most gorgeous moment of the evening in tender epic 'We Haven't Turned Around'. Not least because the song would matter equally to him if no-one were watching.

The tension between their onstage personalities makes Gomez a fascinating spectacle. You want to listen to Ben and watch (or maybe laugh) at Tom. But without that balance, Gomez would be either too deathly dull or too ridiculous.

When the two combine, as they do in encore 'Whippin' Piccadilly' and 'Rhythm & Blues Alibi', Gomez show why they were worth the fuss. And why the enormous audience here tonight are still interested (we're talking screaming and singing on mass here). New single 'Machismo' shows that precarious, but perfect, balance. It's a return to the odd experimentalism that brought Gomez this far, with their usual laid-back style glossed over with a hip-hop finish, but their tongue is still firmly planted in the collective cheek.

See, they've tried most things now. But not really knowing where to go next suits Gomez well. This is one conflict we only stand to benefit from.