The Correspondents - Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club, 23rd July 2015
Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club feels as though it was made especially for The Correspondents; as though someone in 1953 knew that in sixty years’ time, Chucks and Bruce would need a place that was glorious, weird, dingy and spectacular to showcase their diverse and inspiring talents. Tucked down a backstreet in working-class East London, the BGWMC is everything you would hope for – wood panelled walls, red velvet curtains and heavily-patterned carpets, dulled by years of spilled stout and dropped cigarettes. There are a number of things that make it stand out from others of its ilk – the foil streamers, the giant, festoon-lit love heart that hangs behind the stage, the glitter trodden in to those well-worn carpets. They don’t take card, they do serve crisps, and you can just as easily buy a local craft beer as you can a pint of cold, familiar Fosters.
I’ve seen the Correspondents here once before, just before Christmas. Gaudily decorated in decorations they’ve probably been reusing since the Queen’s Coronation, Bethnal Green threw a Christmas party like no other. The crowd was pissed, beautiful and sparkly, Chucks’s beats were dirty and Mr Bruce sent the Christmas tree flying with his flamboyant moves. (The baubles that landed at my feet went on to hang on my own tree, dented and sticky with cider.)
Now it is summer and a lot has changed. The Christmas trees have been packed away, the Strongbow is off and Mr Bruce is bald. More importantly, though, The Correspondents have grown from an unlikely duo into an even more unlikely quintet. Squeezed onto a small stage at a not-so-safe distance from Bruce’s flailing limbs are three newcomers – Axel on keys, Ned on bass and the barefooted Holly on drums. The new line up and live instruments add a bite and a dynamic to the band that truly highlight the talents of Chucks, who, with the skill of surgeon, has dissected his back catalogue, removed a few organs, rearranged the remainder and sewn them all back together again. The unlikely conductor keeps the band in check from behind his decks, his Motown polo shirt and knackered trainers a stark contrast to Bruce’s pristine white converse and 80s-mum-style jumpsuit.
The band is tight and if you hadn’t been told, you wouldn’t know this was their first gig together. A slight hiccup midway through the set showed the bands camaraderie, highlighting the fun and hard work that goes into backing the wild and untamed Mr Bruce. Pleased to be surrounded by friends in an intimate venue, Bruce is grateful they got the mistakes out of the way before hitting the main stages at WOMAD and Secret Garden Party this coming weekend.
The set list featured old favourites as well as a few new songs, reworked by Chucks to include the live instruments, and was as electric and dynamic as always. Mr Bruce, dripping with sweat, smacking spotlights and kicking the Korg, is always a sight to behold – a whirlwind of energy that is infectious, exhilarating and even puzzling (how does he get those legs so high?).
There are other bands that mix swing with electro, and there are other bands that incorporate jungle, drum and bass and Disney soundtracks into scratchy, danceable tracks, but very few bands do it with the sheer enthusiasm and fierce approach of the The Correspondents. The addition of the live element proves further still that they are one of the most exciting live bands on the festival and touring circuit at the moment, and this venue, with its rag-tag bunch of customers, is the perfect starting point for the next stage in the Correspondents adventure.
Looks like Soho’s reprobates have found themselves a new home.
