Soft Cell supported by Marc Almond
The Gov, Adelaide
Friday 11 April 2025
Words & Photos: Robert Brokenmouth

This will be a brief review - I got other writing to do. But you need to know. If for any reason you've hesitated about buying a ticket, I can only repeat what I said about seeing the Sex Pistols and Frank Carter:

JUST GO.

They play Enmore Theatre in Sydney on Sunday, Fortitude Music Hall in Brisbane on Tuesday, and the Palais in Melbourne on Thursday.

Most of you will recall the band's version of “Tainted Love” (a Gloria Jones B-side from 1965) released in mid-1981, which was their first hit after forming in Leeds in 1978. 

The Sex Pistols, as we were exposed to them, weren't so much a rock'n'roll band but a “thing'” Soft Cell were the first break-through synth-pop duo in a long, long line - Suicide did not endure all those bottles raining down on them on sundry Clash and Cars tours for nothing; it could be argued that Suicide paved the rougher ground - but they were anything but cuddly and cute. Growls and snarls, songs about the UK underworld and perversions abounded. Even so, they were teenybopper front page stuff.

Last night, they were really, really fucking good. Far better than Adelaide deserves. The Gov wasn't quite full, but I suspect good old Adelaide did its usual stupid thing of not booking in advance and rolling up on the night.

This is a shit habit which has resulted in large numbers of bands avoiding us like the proverbial plague, because for a band to turn up to that low number of booked tickets - plus Graham and Nobby the dachshund who happened to be walking past - means that Adelaide can kill any and all the profits in a nationwide tour. However, Almond and Ball must have taken a punt with us (never having been here before) and Adelaide must've been feeling generous or something, because the night was fantastic.

Because we all live where we live, we tend to forget that some places, like Australia, and burgs like Adelaide or (god help us) Perth (where they played on Thursday night) are very much on the fringes of civilisation. It is, after all, a fuck of a long trip from Europe, and it is horribly expensive to lug nine musicians, your preferred mixer plus roadies and equipment 12000 miles ... and pay for nice hotel rooms, and feed the buggers as well.

For this tour, quality has taken precedence over profit. For a start, Marc Almond seems to have brought his full touring crew with him (last night was the first time I've seen an imported mixing desk and mixer at The Gov).

Roadies were hustling all over the place. There was a complete stage change in less than 20 minutes. The lightshow was simple, powerful, and magnificently choreographed, with film footage and clips behind Soft Cell themselves. Clearly all this cost a lot more than the usual touring costs; I can only hope they more than broke even (because, of course, I want them to return).

For me, this night was incredible. I've wanted to see Almond since I bought a copy of Marc and the Mambas'  “Torment and Torreros” (1983), taped it and played the tape the usual number of times to cause a cassette tape to break..Almond has had a huge overseas career, especially in Europe, and while offers to tour Australia have occasionally arrived, he's usually been unable to get down here. There's a reason he was awarded an OBE, by the by.

What did we get? 

For the first set, his touring band is a superb ensemble: drums, keys, guitar and two amazing backing vocalists. Pop nerds might recognise Neal X on guitar (still with a silver rocker's rebel quiff, oh and he also played on Glen Matlock's last solo LP). Don't recognise the name? You might recognise his face from his Sigue Sigue Sputnik days (but don't hold that against him). 

Several things stand out: first, that Marc is genuine and strong, but he also seems vulnerable and friendly, a combination which makes his delivery that much more powerful. He projects a captivating mixture of huge emotion wrapped in a poet's soul but a dark comedian's observations.

I cannot think of a single singer/songwriter who can put a sterling version of Brel's “Jacky” into their set and it be not a highlight, but a natural part of the set. Marc doesn't write like Brel, obviously, but we are talking fine, gutsy songs, from the opener “The Stars We Are” through “The Idol” and “A Lover Spurned”, to segueing “Something's Gotten Hold of My Heart” into “The Days of Pearly Spencer”.

Every single singer/songwriter in this country should be at these gigs. Some should attend and quit immediately. Some will learn that, irrespective of hits, that they have a long way to go to be any good ... no, I won't mention any names, I'm tired of the death threats. The gig at the Gov was particularly special, because apart from the absence of a crowd barrier, the venue can be extraordinarily intimate. 

What many folks don't know is that we're enormously fortunate the man is still recording and touring - never mind turning up in Australia. For example, he tells us in his 1999 autobiography, “Tainted Life” (Sidgwick & Jackson) that he has Meniére Syndrome - that's the horrid inner ear disease which fucks with your balance, gives you thrilling hearing loss, tinnitus and a whole other range of shit. You know, the kind of disease where musicians and singers usually  come home from hospital with a confused expression and government gift pack containing slippers, a smelly old dog, pouch tobacco, a corncob pipe, and a life-time's supply of rum and incontinence pads.

But to make matters a lot worse, in 2004 Almond copped serious head injuries after a motorcycle crash (he was riding pillion). Here he is in the Liverpool Echo (27 July 2007) talking about his return to performing: 

My eardrum was punctured so I couldn’t listen to music for six months. It was a terrible time, but it makes me appreciate what I’ve got now. I know how lucky I am to have my friends and family, and to be able to make music. With them I can cope with whatever life throws at me.

I can't memorise things very well and I have problems with my speech, though it's getting better now...I went back to my singing teacher, and begged her to help me to sing again, to find some kind of a release for everything that was building up inside me.

After months of painful counselling and physiotherapy, [in 2006] he found the strength to perform his first gig, singing Tainted Love live at a Jools Holland gig, with the first line [of 'Tainted Love'] written out because he couldn't remember it That first line of 'Tainted Love' had never felt so poignant as [that night], his first time on stage after the horrific motorcycle accident which came so close to killing him.

'I understood what the song was about like never before, I felt like I had to run and hide myself away,' says Marc. 'I thought: people are going to laugh at me, they're going to see me forgetting things. They're going to see me not being able to stand up properly, I'm going to be a freak show. I was hyperventilating, I felt sick, like I’d never been on a stage before.'

Personally I think the man has the guts of the kind of characters usually portrayed by Clint Eastwood or Arnold Schwarzenator: he's hugely brave and determined.

In short, since the bloke shouldn't be here, at all, we readily forgave him the occasional lyric fluff - and after all, who can forget the New York Dolls' playing Australia, where for some songs David more or less read from the lyrics? 

I haven't seen a band enjoy themselves so much on stage for years. The camaraderie between everyone was a joy to behold. I've also never seen a singer so genuinely grateful as Marc for the applause and cheering poured out by the crowd, nor their (inevitable) singalongs to Marc and Soft Cell's hits. Nor a lead singer involve his backing singers so much on stage (no, nor just naming them and doing one close approach like Jagger or someone). No, Almond knows how vital these backing singers are to provide a richness and vitality to his songs, and he uses them appropriately. 

Even so, that extraordinary voice of his is like tiramisu for the soul (after a few month's summer walk through a stony desert). 

Dig in and fucking spoil yourself.