Alvin Stardust in Hamburg.
What's going on?
Barbed wire
in front of the hall? Water cannon on standby? Big day of fighting for the Red Cross and police?
Street battles for the last tickets?
You think so. The music hall is completely empty. Almost four hundred people are crammed into the first twelve rows of seats. A quarter of them were lured with free tickets - so that it seems a bit fuller.
On the dark stage, Alvin's band. Two guitars, bass.
Drums and an electric piano. "My Coo Ca Choo"
instrumental. A heavy
sound rolls through the speakers and sounds exactly like it does on the record.
A spotlight moves through the darkness. Suddenly Alvin is there. But you can't see him.
Only his left fist is in the light, a wide silver bracelet, a heavy leather glove with a chunky ring on it. In his fist, twisted,
the microphone.
The first three numbers are blasts. "Great Balls Of Fire" in a new arrangement, a second rock piece, "High Fever", then "Red Dress".
Alvin is hot. He whirls smoothly across the stage, every inch a rocker of the old kind. He has a strong, variable voice and hiccups like Gene Vincent once did. Alvin is more than just a teen star. He is a real rock singer and he has what it takes.
The show is well thought out and perfect, perhaps too perfect for some. Every movement, every flash of the red and blue spotlights is exactly right. The sound is right. Some other groups would benefit from a little of this perfection.
Alvin picks up the guitar, plays "Johnny B. Goode" and waddles across the stage in a duck walk like Chuck Berry. Funny, but it doesn't really suit him. Elvis' "Trouble" also sounds too much like the original. And his version of "Bye Bye Love", the old Everly Brothers hit, is hard to believe. But then he gets back to his best. His hits alternate with rock classics that you don't hear on every corner. In the hall, people are shouting, clapping, stomping and raging. Alvin has his audience in his hands. A furious finale with "My Coo Ca Choo", then he's gone. Wild screaming, he comes back twice, throwing his gloves at the crowd. The stage is stormed, a rocker throws himself at his feet. Alvin runs away.
But as good as he is, his concerts are poorly attended. In Frankfurt and Munich, the next stops, only a handful of fans come. The failed tour is stopped. The performances in Düsseldorf and Hanover are cancelled. Alvin flies back to England. What a pity - because he doesn't deserve such a failure. Really.
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