Holy Holy review: The band go from the ridiculous to the sublime as they perform Bowie songs in Hull

Holy Holy                                                                                             Bonus Arena, Hull

Rating:

In the annals of British pop, Woody Woodmansey is far from the most famous name. But when he performs in Hull, near his birthplace in Driffield, he achieves a rare distinction: fans arriving by train pass a blue plaque in his honour. 

Perched on the station wall, just behind the statue of Philip Larkin, the plaque commemorates David Bowie’s early-Seventies backing group The Spiders From Mars, who were actually The Spiders From Hull.

A cheery figure in a flat cap, Woodmansey is the last surviving Spider. These days he’s the drummer with Holy Holy, who are somewhere between a supergroup and a tribute band. Four years after Bowie’s death, they are part of a small industry keeping his magic alive.

Holy Holy, featuring Woody Woodmansey, Tony Visconti and Glenn Gregory (above with Visconti), are somewhere between a supergroup and a David Bowie tribute band

Holy Holy, featuring Woody Woodmansey, Tony Visconti and Glenn Gregory (above with Visconti), are somewhere between a supergroup and a David Bowie tribute band

Every January, several of his old sidemen and women tour under the banner A Bowie Celebration – but they’re not as old as the senior members of Holy Holy. Woodmansey, 70 next week, forms the rhythm section with the 75-year-old Tony Visconti, Bowie’s producer, on and off, from 1968 to 2016. 

Those two bring the history, while Glenn Gregory from Heaven 17 brings relative youth (he’s a mere 61) and takes on the most daunting task in music: replacing Bowie on vocals.

It could all go horribly wrong, and to begin with it does. Somebody thought it would be fun to play The Man Who Sold The World in full, as it turns 50. The title track is a classic, a singalong shimmering with ambiguity, but the eight other songs are just heavy non-events. 

Their focus is Bowie's (above in 1973) catalogue from 1969-73 and it's down to Heaven 17's Glenn Gregory to try and replace Bowie's vocals on stage

Their focus is Bowie’s (above in 1973) catalogue from 1969-73 and it’s down to Heaven 17’s Glenn Gregory to try and replace Bowie’s vocals on stage

And Holy Holy stick to the original running order, forcing us to sit through seven duds before the title track comes along. Reader, I saw Tin Machine, and they weren’t this bad.

But as soon as The Man Who Sold The World is out of the way, Holy Holy do what Bowie did with his next album, Hunky Dory: they go from the ridiculous to the sublime. Five Years is soulful, Moonage Daydream bracing, and suddenly it’s a different show.

Unfortunately they decide to perform The Man Who Sold The World album in full

Unfortunately they decide to perform The Man Who Sold The World album in full

After a quirky Lady Stardust – sung by Jessica Lee Morgan, daughter of Visconti and Mary Hopkin – it’s a cavalcade of hits. There’s a charming Space Oddity, a swaggering Ziggy, a stirring Starman and a barnstorming All The Young Dudes. The glam-rock anthem that Bowie gave away to Mott The Hoople always lights up a crowd.

These songs, like Woody’s plaque, are pieces of our heritage. Gregory rises to the occasion, matching Bowie’s knack of building suspense by hanging behind the beat. He can even handle Life On Mars?, which often induces vertigo. Those well-loved lyrics (‘It’s a God-awful small affair…’) join Changes and Rebel Rebel in a platonic ideal of an encore.

Before that, there’s a surprise – a song not from 1969-73 but from 2013: Where Are We Now?, the ruminative ballad that became Bowie’s last big hit. Among all the glam stompers, it comes as a shaft of wintry beauty.

If only Holy Holy had started halfway through, they’d be getting five stars.

Holy Holy play the Roundhouse, London, on March 11 

 

THIS WEEK’S CD RELEASES

By Adam Woods

 

Louis Tomlinson                                        Walls                                           Out Friday

Rating:

Not even Louis Tomlinson would back himself to be the breakout star of One Direction. Last out of the blocks, his voice recalls Take That’s Mark Owen, whose solo career fizzled. But this debut stacks up all right – not too cool for school like Zayn, not trashily sex-addled like Liam, just chunky, post-Oasis anthems and down-but-notout ballads, like a more unassuming take on early Robbie Williams

Not even Louis Tomlinson would back himself to be the breakout star of One Direction. Last out of the blocks, his voice recalls Take That’s Mark Owen, whose solo career fizzled. But this debut stacks up all right – not too cool for school like Zayn, not trashily sex-addled like Liam, just chunky, post-Oasis anthems and down-but-notout ballads, like a more unassuming take on early Robbie Williams

 

Drive-By Truckers                           The Unraveling                              Out Friday

Rating:

Georgia’s Drive-By Truckers aren’t the type to turn a blind eye to social matters, so this is a continuation of 2016’s Trump siren American Band, this time ‘written in the wreckage and aftermath’. Like Springsteen, they find the political in the personal and tell those stories with urgency and compassion, whether on the thunderous Armageddon’s Back In Town or the ambling, empty-eyed 21st Century USA

Georgia’s Drive-By Truckers aren’t the type to turn a blind eye to social matters, so this is a continuation of 2016’s Trump siren American Band, this time ‘written in the wreckage and aftermath’. Like Springsteen, they find the political in the personal and tell those stories with urgency and compassion, whether on the thunderous Armageddon’s Back In Town or the ambling, empty-eyed 21st Century USA

 

Blossoms                                  Foolish Loving Spaces                          Out Friday

Rating:

Bands like Blossoms – five blokes, guitars, album every two years – are an endangered species, and you sense they know it. You don’t hear much guitar – instead: smooth pop grooves, galloping disco bass, pounding, Stonesy piano. They’re smart, breezy songwriters. It would be no surprise if they keep sneaking on the radio

Bands like Blossoms – five blokes, guitars, album every two years – are an endangered species, and you sense they know it. You don’t hear much guitar – instead: smooth pop grooves, galloping disco bass, pounding, Stonesy piano. They’re smart, breezy songwriters. It would be no surprise if they keep sneaking on the radio

 

Kesha                                                      High Road                                       Out Friday 

Rating:

At times, High Road sounds like a party, lurching from raucous gospel to flippant campfire tunes, full of whooping, swearing and truth-talking. But Kesha is a pro, and for all the falling-down affectation, key songs such as Tonight, My Own Dance and Raising Hell are sturdier, less sloppy and more commercially responsible than they want to let on

At times, High Road sounds like a party, lurching from raucous gospel to flippant campfire tunes, full of whooping, swearing and truth-talking. But Kesha is a pro, and for all the falling-down affectation, key songs such as Tonight, My Own Dance and Raising Hell are sturdier, less sloppy and more commercially responsible than they want to let on

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