'Short Circuit' at the Roundhouse, June 5th 2010

If John Foxx is, indeed, his generation’s most persuasive ambassador for electro, then he really is spoiling us with this one. That was my first thought when the line-up for this year’s Foxx-curated Short Circuit festival was announced. Team Foxx was, it has to be said, the stuff of fan fantasy. We’d got the wonderful, irrepressible Louis Gordon, naturally. Numan on DJ duty. Foxx was going to have a band, too, intriguingly enough. Paul Daley, of Leftfield fame. Benge, whose contribution to the ‘archaeology of electronic music’ has been recognised by none other than Eno himself. Robin Simon on guitar. Blimey, Robin Simon. Former guitarist with Ultravox (the Foxx-led one, naturally) and, of course, solo Foxx in his Golden Section era, once he’d moved away from the synths-and-suits froideur of the Metamatic days. Oh yeah, and speaking of which, we were also going to be treated to tracks from Foxx’s 1980 masterpiece in all their original analogue glory. I wasn’t the first to buy my ticket, in the end, but that was only because my laptop crashed. Short Circuit, indeed.
So it was that I ended up in Camden on the muggiest day in history. The quantity of Numan T-shirts in the long queue outside the Roundhouse was not altogether surprising, although it did make me worry that all the Foxx fans had already done the appropriate thing and melted, dissolved or evaporated into the ether. As I entered the building, I was soon reassured by the sea of Foxxian imagery on the chests of those around me. They’d just got there first. Jori Hulkkonen kicked off the evening’s entertainment with a pleasantly chilled DJ set. The Finnish musician’s collaborations with Foxx on Dislocated and Never Been Here Before were by turns enigmatic, sexy and poignant, which is just how I like my Foxx tracks. Good to see him here tonight, the first of several reminders of just how busy Foxx has been lately.
Unfortunately, Numan and Ade Fenton were unable to appear in their allotted slot, although the promised DJ set did materialise later in the evening. Mark Jones, of BBC 6 Music’s Back To The Phuture, was meant to be on the decks after Foxx’s performance, but gamely filled the earlier slot with a mixture of panache and cheeky humour that did much to win over a restless crowd. The chants of Numan’s name ebbed as a satisfyingly esoteric selection of electronica washed over the crowd. Early Human League at their best, Fad Gadget and, of course, the absent Numan set the tone. Ten years ago it would have been a nostalgia fest. Now, when everyone’s rediscovering the joys of the synth, it was glorious validation. You can listen to the synth pioneers of the early Eighties now without a trace of the snide, clip-show irony often thrown at this most misunderstood of musical eras. They’ve migrated from Top Of The Pops 2 to BBC Four, and, best of all, have managed to do so without the sense of humour bypass usually undergone in the process. Now, after all Britpop’s excesses and the posturing of Noughties rock, the music of thirty years ago is back, reimagined, reworked and sounding a hell of a lot like the future. Again. Foxx knows all this, of course, because he’s an artist, writer, filmmaker and generally a bit of a genius, albeit a very unassuming one. He’s been assiduously putting the pieces of the puzzle together for a good long while now. At long last, the rest of the world is catching up.
Given Foxx’s longstanding preoccupation with film as a medium, it seemed fitting that the main event should start with one. Alex Proyas, another of Foxx’s many famous admirers, has reworked a version of his short film, Groping, this time titled Parallel Lives. Soundtracked by a new version of classic Foxx B-side Film One, it was a menacing, mesmerising, and rather terrifying intro to Foxx’s chief concerns. Human relationships, or lack thereof, in big, faceless, beautiful, scary cities. Hard to think of a more appropriate intro to Metamatic. Ah, the M word, worthy of all the superlatives you can throw at it, plus loads more that haven’t even been invented yet. Never having toured with the record at the time, apparently due to the technical difficulties of getting all that kit out on the road, Foxx rectified matters in 2007. Here, at last, we got a sample of the analogue tour that never was. Joined by Benge, Daley, Serafina Steer and the erstwhile Steve D’Agostino, with Karborn and Jonathan Barnbrook providing visuals, Foxx appeared on the stage clad in his usual black, still every inch the star he never tried to be. From the fabulously eerie Plaza onwards, Foxx led us back down the dark and forbidding pathways of his own lost city, through a landscape at once terrifying, bleak and weirdly, viscerally thrilling. This City defined the theme, while Burning Car, He’s A Liquid and No One Driving made it personal, taking the isolation from the outside world into the sphere of fractured, disjointed personal relationships. It had to end with Underpass, and it did, with the sterling efforts of Foxx and his band making it the best version I’ve ever heard.
This tour of Foxx’s career wasn’t in any kind of chronological sequence, which was perfect, really, as it just served to showcase how consistent his thinking’s been. There had to be a Louis Gordon cameo at some point during the evening, and here was as good a time as any. What a delight it was, as ever, to watch these two interact on stage. The perfect double act, Foxx and Gordon complement each other brilliantly, with Louis’s manic energy providing the foil to Foxx’s cool elegance. Best of all is when the latter occasionally lets the facade slip and starts grinning like a kid – always great to see. The bromance of the century has given us a slew of great records, from ‘97’s ‘comeback’ Shifting City to 2007’s Sideways. The tracks on show here ran the gamut of the varied styles they’ve explored, from the urgent, propulsive Shadow Man to the ever wonderful, anthemic A Million Cars, closing with a touch of beautiful psychedelia on An Ocean We Can Breathe. Stunning stuff, indeed. On a side note, I hope the bloke who nearly fell on me during A Million Cars made it home in one piece. Pearls before swine, Foxxy...
Anyway, with the inimitable Mancunian having said his farewells, we moved on to The New Stuff. All those currently taking part in cash-in reunion tours, take note. No resting on laurels for Foxxy, who has been busier recently than ever before. He gave us a sample of his much-anticipated new record with Benge, working under the name of John Foxx and the Maths. Running Man, Summer Land, Watching A Building On Fire and Catwalk made a fantastic impression, and the record’s release (slated for this autumn) is definitely something to look forward to. Then, quite suddenly, we were back to Ultravox. Robin Simon joined Foxx and co on stage for a blinding rendition of three of their most iconic tracks. The dark, restless fever dream of Dislocation, Quiet Men, the underdog’s manifesto, and – of course - Slow Motion, the finest of Simon’s many fine hours as Foxxvox’s guitarist. Who needs a reunion when you can reinterpret classic tracks this well? Until we iron out the whole time travel issue, this is the nearest most of us will ever get to seeing the Foxx-led Ultravox at their peerless peak circa 1978’s Systems of Romance, an album that still sounds like it was recorded yesterday by some people who are more than a little bit ahead of their time.
The encore, like the rest of the evening, was rather special. A new track, Good Shadow, shot into my personal top ten of Foxx songs with the first notes. There was always a real warmth beneath the apparently glacial surface of Foxx’s work, and it breaks through here with breaktaking intensity, simple, sweet and instantly unforgettable. Just when we’d begun to wind down, the Ultravox track, The Man Who Dies Every Day, came as a shot in the arm straight from the punk-inflected, snarling brilliance of their second album, Ha!-Ha!-Ha! Unexpected, as the guitarist at that time was the equally great Stevie Shears rather than Simon, but a very welcome surprise nonetheless. Destination, the single Foxx and Benge released late last year, brought us right back up to date with a bang, a classic in the making. I escaped the sweltering venue for a second, only to be sent dashing back in from the bar as an unmistakeable voice began to sing. ‘Talking in the window as the light fades...’ Two encores is a record, but then, this was a special night. Just For A Moment, Foxxvox’s last and, arguably, most beautiful track, provided the perfect closer for an incredible evening, one that reasserted this most unassuming of artist’s place in the musical firmament. Lots of people have, like him, listened to the music the machines make, but nobody else has ever made it touch the heart quite like Foxx.
Time to go, without fanfares or fuss. Foxx thanked his band, his crew and us, reminding us that it had only taken him thirty years to get around to doing this. I suspect that this was the last gig of his on this scale. If so, I can think of no better way to sign off. ‘Thanks for this - it’s been fun’, he told us, beaming. It has indeed, John. Thank you.