“You’re gonna go far,” sings Guy Chadwick in “Love in a Car” – and who can doubt that has been said to The House of Love’s singer many times before?
The songs written by Chadwick in the 1980s and 1990s have the quiet-LOUD dynamic of the Pixies and the psychedelia of Brian Jones, wrapped up in young male angst and a Briton’s longing for European coolness. The Wedding Present have a parallel line in teenaged misery (as David Gedge demonstrates in a support slot), but The House of Love represent a Beaudelaire-reading, introspective type of student. There are no love-rivals called Kevin, winning the affections of their girlfriends in Chadwick’s stories – rather, there are poster images of Anna Karina provoking reflections on the meaning of pain.
Armed with the ability to make guitars sing, Chadwick’s success with these songs should have been assured. The House of Love did have some chart success, but it came at the cost of the band’s cohesion. Guitarist Terry Bickers was famously dumped from their tour van after setting fire to banknotes and taunting Chadwick about his aspirations. There were still great songs left to write, but the group never really recovered from the experience. Bickers returned for a while, but the moment had passed when they could make good on their commercial promises.
Chadwick didn’t give up on his dreams, but he did face reality. After a long hiatus, he changed the line-up and explored a more American sound with blues influences. There is no harmonica or slide-guitar on stage at Camden’s Electric Ballroom, however – just a glorious walk through the classics.
From the opener, “Cruel,” to the final, feedback-filled blast of “Love in a Car,” The House of Love demonstrate why record company executives got so excited by them. There aren’t many bands with songs as devastating as “The Girl with the Loneliest Eyes” or as strangely-wrought as “Safe.” Chadwick’s learned to spend less time tuning guitars on stage, and twenty songs seem to fly by – even with an acoustic interval by the singer in solo mode. He seems genuinely humbled that his songs are remembered, but there is no forgetting material like “Blind” and “Fade Away.” The real problem is hearing the more subtle moments over the nonstop chattering of the pissheads who mistake a concert for a night in their local pub.
There are calls for “Christine,” which are answered in due course. It’s the one song the part of the crowd who didn’t read Beaudelaire or Nin can remember the name of. For the rest, there is still “Destroy the Heart” and an exercise in automobile romance to settle the question whether Chadwick’s team have still got it. Of course they do.