The Stylistics at Vicar Street | Review

The Stylistics at Vicar Street, 23rd of November 2013

On the basis of tonight’s crowd in Vicar Street, and the reaction that greets every aspect of this show, the flame of Philadelphia soul has been burning in Dublin since The Monarchs and The Percussions amalgamated to give rise to The Stylistics back in ‘68. The band has, in one form or another, been on the circuit for forty-five years now with founding members Herbie Murrell and Airrion Love proving most resilient to the twists and turns of subsequent line-up shake-ups. Tables and chairs have been laid out in Vicar Street for this crowd of a certain vintage, but they soon become surplus to requirement as the quartet charm and cajole everyone to their feet and into the aisles. As the show flows onward, every fella in the venue becomes second choice to his missus, and they all know it too; this is ladies night, and those suckers don’t stand a chance against a charm offensive of this magnitude.

The Sugarcubes don’t have much work ahead of them as they play covers to the pre-headline crowd. Suited and booted, the eight-piece throw out Paul Simon, Bruno Mars, Peter Gabriel and Phil Collins amongst the soul standards. It’s Nile Rodgers that sets the place off though, and it’s easy to be cynical about a cover band opening a show, but the crowd wants what the crowd wants…and the crowd wants this. It’s cheesy, it’s an easy-won audience, and everyone shows their true colours when the disco beats are brought into play. Limbs suitably loosened, a warm hum of conversation fills the interim, and there’s a sense that this gig is somewhat of a reunion for some soul stalwarts from the scene as people shout across the balcony and spot acquaintances around the room.

No less than three keyboard players constitute two-thirds of The Stylistics’ backing band, The Style Orchestra, making up for the lack of a live drummer. Four visions appear, decked out in red from the spats on their feet to the collars on their jackets. You only think you know what dapper looks like…until you see The Stylistics. All it takes is a theatrical twirl from Harold Eban Brown to cause a bout of horny conniptions from the ladies down in front, and at the band’s encouragement the crowd sing every word of Stone In Love With You back at them.

Each word of the set is accompanied by a hand gesture or some sort of mime as the band move together in smooth, synchronised style. You don’t need to see them perform Stop, Look, Listen (To Your Heart) to guess what those particular moves may be, but that just makes it easier for the crowd to accompany them in their movements. Theirs is an all-inclusive set where everyone from the lighting guy to the furthest person in the balcony gets their dues. Murrell dons an afro wig donated by an audience member at one point, but surely the best example of the dissolution of the barrier between band and crowd is the sheer amount of groping, as a constant stream of women make their way to the front for a lech. The Stylistics must have been as red as their suits from the waist down come Sunday morning.

It’s the music that unifies this room though, as the band’s four-way harmonies soar over the sublime moments of You Are Everything and Sing Baby Sing. They disappear, coming back minus the jackets to take it back to the slow soul of Love Comes Easy. The front row is wooed with Na Na Is The Saddest Word, The Lion Sleeps Tonight is sheer fun, but the disco rendering of I Can’t Give You Anything (But My Love) is the most raucous dance-inducer in a night full of them. The gals flock to the stage, the band press the flesh and The Style Orchestra take the party home after they depart. Every crowd should be so lucky to have a band like this, and vice-versa.