| Artist | Thundercat |
| Venue | O2 City Hall, Newcastle |
| Date | 29 March 2024 |
| Opener | Lost in Space / Great Scott / 22-26 |
| Closer | Them Changes |
| Highlight | A Fan’s Mail (Tron Song Suite II) |
| Undertone rating | 2/5 |
Thundercat may be one of the world’s most respected bassists, but in this exhausting set of samey solos his technical wizardry was largely lost to City Hall’s booming acoustics. Alex Walden and Bertie Kirkwood jointly report.
Considering that he was born from musical parents, one of which being Motown legend Ronald Bruner, it’s no surprise that Thundercat has successfully lived up to his fine musical heritage. Yet it is still impressive just how he has managed to forge his own route in the music industry, embodying less an artist, more a lovable comic book protagonist thanks to his wacky fashion sense and unfettered love for anime. Thundercat is uniquely able to come out with a song as smooth and tranquil as Lava Lamp but also come out unfazed after drinking three Yerba teas within five minutes (which according to the FDA contains enough caffeine to incapacitate any average sized horse) before proceeding to shred on his bass to create a new song within just 30 minutes. Thundercat’s live show was always bound to be unforgettable for a number of reasons.
We arrived at Newcastle’s City Hall early enough to snag a prime spot in the crowd just three rows back from the front, close enough to marvel at the huge mural of a snarling cat hung up behind the stage. Unfortunately, gawping at a backdrop can only get you so far through the long wait that’s part of the deal with getting such a good spot in the crowd. Even the support act, New York DJ Kitty Ca$h (an inspired, apt choice from Thundercat just on name alone) was hardly stimulating, and her painfully American yelps of “Newcastle make some noise!!” between several middling pop remixes were mostly ignored by the crowd talking amongst themselves. Some lads next to us giving Alex copies of Thundercat-themed memes printed on A4 paper was about as exciting as the two hour wait got (Alex did hold up his meme during the concert and try to get Thundercat’s attention, but got little more than a glance from the star).
But was all the standing around worth it? Well, not really. An overly long intro of dramatic choral music playing through the speakers and a darkened stage got the crowd buzzing for one minute, then became a tedious test of patience for the next three. The cheers when Thundercat did finally grace the stage – alongside a budget-minded entourage of just a keyboardist and drummer – seemed more of relief than genuine excitement. As it happened, the tedium continued into the opening track, a meandering rendition of Interstellar Love with indulgent jazz fusion solos from all three musicians (but, crucially, no sax solo like on the studio recording) and precious little discernible melody for the eager fans to sing along to.
Long stretches of the following concert continued in exactly the same manner. One of the most exciting attributes about a live Thundercat show is his ability to fill musical space on a dime with his ability to solo on that iconic six string bass, one need only to look around the Internet for pictures or videos of Thundercat playing to find cases where his fingers are either locked in positions that can only be described as unfathomable for immense chords or where his fingers dance around his fretboard at lightspeed to deliver amazing solos. The magic of Thundercat’s soloing ability held up as his fingers dashed across the neck of his bass to deliver shockingly proficient solos which were equally backed up by his keyboardist and drummer. It definitely gives a uniqueness that you don’t get in his albums.
However, after a while it did become repetitive. There’s a reason why magicians never do the same trick twice in a row, and while everyone loves a good solo, after the fourth five-minute solo you begin to notice the patterns in each musician’s playing style and you realise that you’d much rather be singing along to a song instead. This performance ended up being stuffed with indulgent jazz fusion solos, in which the frenzy of bass notes were largely lost to the City Hall’s booming acoustic. Dennis Hamm’s chirpy keyboards and Justin Brown’s remorseless drumming (operating at 100 mph, almost every song, all the time) quickly became formulaic. There’s nothing wrong with pushing Thundercat’s recorded discography further into jazz territory, but rarely did this performance present the sweeping rise-and-fall narrative of a carefully crafted solo. Flashy demonstrations of Thundercat’s virtuosity came at the expense of soulfulness, and there was a niggling feeling that this all might just be an exercise to boost the bassist’s ego. At least his vocals were surprisingly good, noticeably crisper and more full-blooded than the wispy falsetto on much of his recorded material.
The performance of A Fan’s Mail was the highlight of the show, but not for the reason you’d expect. When you listen to the recorded version your ears are met with the warm greeting of Thundercat’s bass which are then followed by soft drums and reverberating ad libs of “meow meow’ in the distance. It’s through this that we get a very ethereal feel for the song. Considering that the songs brackets say Tron Song Suite II and we know that Tron is the name of his cat, it feels as if Thundercat is gently serenading his cat. The overall smoothness of the track can be matched to that of the sound of a lullaby yet live it was quite the opposite. The keyboardist took the brunt of the melody for this song as Thunderct began to solo to the point where the song was almost unrecognisable until the line “I wish I had nine lives” echoed through the venue”. Not only had Thundercat begun to put a spin of his own song, but the drummer had also switched up the sound of the song too. Be it through his own constraints or his creative free will, he had taken a break from his bebop style of drumming and slowed it down to put some swing into his sound. Despite slowing down, the drums couldn’t match that restrained tone of the recorded version, which was surprisingly rather beneficial. With slow but loud drums and a quick solo at the end of every bar, A Fan’s Mail had transformed from this slow, relaxing song to an upbeat groovy jam track that got the place moving; it brought some life into the concert that was seriously needed for the remainder of the show.
Getting the perfect sound at a live show is a virtually impossible task for any artist. Despite doing multiple soundchecks prior to the show, there’s just too many variables that you can’t account for. And that amazing tone that you’ve spent ages tweaking to get right on your perfect amp? Yeah that goes completely out the window when it’s blasted out the crappy concert hall monitors. While taking this into account, it can’t be dismissed how poorly mixed areas of the concert were, even if Thundercat was soloing like a bass god for a large portion of the show. It was a particularly strenuous task to hear any notes that weren’t on the highest string. Thundercat’s lower notes had suffered the same fate as many bass players before him, being buried in the mix. The drumming however had quite the opposite effect. Granted, mixing drums is difficult. All it takes is a small surge in adrenaline to turn a sharp but clear snare into a painfully aggressive smack that feels like it’s piercing through your ears into your eyes. Anyone can excuse the first couple, it simply gets discarded as a display of passion or excitement but after an hour of it, it begins to shift more towards a painful experience.
As the concert stretched over the 100-minute mark, the itch to hear any of Thundercat’s more straightforward pop hits became harder to ignore. Jokey Tokyo in particular flopped embarrassingly, preceded by a long bit of chat about how much he loves the Dragonball Z comics franchise. The pitiful spoken word lyrics “It was premeditated, tried to get someone pregnant / It wasn’t her fault, I’m just kind of psychotic,” were delivered in a way that suggested Thundercat expected some laughter or applause, but instead was received with a stony silence. A subsequent line about Aokigahara, or the “Suicide Forest” in Japan, went down about as well as you’d expect.
It was nearly 11pm by the time Thundercat finally, begrudgingly, rolled out the hits: no sign last year’s popular single No More Lies (and, to Bertie’s dismay, no Dragonball Durag), but at least we got his two other best pop songs in Funny Thing and Them Changes. The latter in particular was rapturously received, delivered with the heavy, delightfully straightforward funk groove that had eluded the trio all night. It was a glimpse into how joyous the occasion could have been had Thundercat practiced a little more restraint in his improvisation and offered a little more of the sticky grooves the fee-paying fans really came for. He may possess an exceptional talent on the bass but, as taught in the comics Thundercat so clearly adores, with great power comes great responsibility.
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