Nottingham, England - Media Reviews

Hystery in the Making By Alison Joy

What else could possibly go wrong for this band? Doomed ain't the word! But once again, disaster strikes, leaving vocalist Joe Elliott with a trapped nerve in his back following an enthusiastic leap from the drum riser in Belfast.

The man is in pain. He looks it, a face the colour of clay. But this is their most important UK tour to date, so Joe has to grin and bear it, before being rushed away to the attentions of an Osteopath. Again the show goes on...

And what a show, even with poor 'ole Joe lacking in the mobility stakes. An understandably stilted start came with openers 'Stagefright' and 'Rock! Rock! (Till You Drop)', the band obviously yet to click into full 'tour' mode. By 'Another Hit and Run', Joe's guitarists Steve Clark and Phil Collen pelted around the stage to compensate, Clark in particular spinning and kicking as if in the throes of a severe electric shock.

Rick Savage did some serious board travellin too (all the band are freed from the trip-over-the-lead syndrome by hi-tech gadgetry), a wonderfully cool exterior often cracking into a grin of pure glee at Nottingham's rapturous response. And Rick Allen? The biggest compliment I can pay him is to say that I had forgotten. Yep, so vicious was the drumming that Rick, using both feet at a furious pace, became 'just' another drummer, which must be an improvement on the 'Def-Leppard-the-band-with-the-one-armed-drummer' story.

'Too Late For Love' (ace lightshow!) and 'Billy's Got a Gun' led into the immaculate 'Hysteria', which sounded a little rusty tonight, but should smooth out further into the tour. Next up was the fab 'Gods of War', followed by 'Die Hard The Hunter', all adding to the Hysteria (sorry, just had to!) which was causing the walls to dampen, and the hair to flop (i.e. it was hot!).

By this time, the real Leppard magic was beginning to glow, and an acoustic version of 'Bringin' On The Heartbreak' signalled a shift onto an exciting new level.

Steve Clark sat cradling a Gibson twin-neck with cohort Collen standing at the back plucking an acoustic, while Joe stood alone under a blinding spotlight, pouring his heart and soul into an amazing new version of this old classic. Sheer brilliance.

With the band truly primed and on 'stun', an astounding 'Foolin' was followed by 'Animal', causing such massive cheers that Elliott had to point out, Thank you, you bought it! Def Leppard in the Top 10, eh? Who'd have thought it?! Who indeed, Joe! On then, to a rousing 'Pour Some Sugar On Me', which Nottingham seemed to utterly bask in - a new live classic maybe?

'Let it Go', then 'Rock of Ages', which was punctuated by a frantic medley including 'My Generation', 'Radar Love' and 'Whole Lotta Love'. Steaming, rocking, cracking...bloody brilliant, as we say 'oop North.

Encoring with a crazy 'Photograph', and the very strange choice of 'Tear it Down' ('Animal' B-side) for a final bash, Leppard departed, leaving Nottingham sweaty but grinning, and me in a tizz of enjoyment.

So with that, Joe went to hospital, Sav home to Mum, and Steve to the hotel bar. But the real highlight was seeing mad manager Mensch ranting at two very confused French journalists while wielding a cricket bat. Strange man, great gig.

By Kerrang! 1987.

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Sugar On The Rocks By Paul Elliott

Four nights into a tour that'll stretch from here to God knows when (late '88, probably) and Def Leppard are just beginning to hit their stride. Tonight, by their own admission, it was still all a little shaky. Slow starters they may be, but Leppard have enough kick at the finish to see off just about any competition.

Producing records of the scale, depth and polish of 'Pyromania' and 'Hysteria' is one thing; reproducing them on a stage is a different proposition altogether, and it's been said of Leppard on a number of occassions that their live performances simply don't come up to stratch. And no, this show wasn't perfect. Will great do?

Leppard aren't Ben Johnson off the blocks; opener 'Stagefright' began messy and overloud, plenty of noise and colour but not much to grab hold of. By 'Rock! Rock! (Till You Drop)' they'd picked up more momentum and, to his credit, it was only as that second song climaxed that I really paid any attention to Rick 'Thundergod!' Allen.

What can you say about a guy who loses an arm and comes back sounding better than ever? Obviously the new drum kit (lightweight and surprisingly small) cuts a few corners, but he still has to work his ass off. Rick earned Nottingham's generous cheers.

As did Joe Elliott, who, unknown to the punters, gritted his teeth and stuck out the two hour set despite suffering the kind of bitchin' backache that's only forgotten after a bottle of brandy (doctors orders, natch). He looked pretty stiff and uncomfortable but the voice was fine - especially on a new acoustic arrangement of 'Bringin' On The Hearbreak'.

The real killers, though, were the epic numbers, 'Gods Of War' and 'Die Hard The Hunter', linked by stunning sound and light effects and delivered with blinding power, 'Gods of War' won't join 'Animal' or the upcoming 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' (or 'Rocket', surely) in the list of inevitable hit singles, but it remains one of Hysteria's most outstanding moments.

Those two songs shifted the show into another gear. From that point it just rushed by. 'Foolin'' and 'Photograph' were reminders that Leppard were writing great singles long befoe Radio 1 sussed it.

'Billy's Got a Gun' was introduced by Joe as "a cry for help that went unheeded in Hungerford a couple of weeks ago" - make of that what you will. But 'Let it Go' and 'Another Hit and Run' burnt some serious rubber and 'Rock of Ages' wrapped it all up, party-style.

The crowd fell for it in their own sweet time. It wasn't hysteria, but it was close enough.

By Sounds 1987.

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Leppard Are Spot On By Tim Evans

No self-respecting heavy metal fan with an ounce of grey matter could have failed to notice that Def Leppard's moniker is a clumsy copy of the name of the masters of the genre - Led Zeppelin.

And, although it's said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, to start a career in this manner doesn't bode well for a future of breathtaking originality and infinite inspiration.

Instead, it smacked of a bunch of young Sheffield lads, faced with the steel town's desperate unemployment, escaping to the dream world of their heroes.

Fluid Style

Now, almost ten years on. Def Leppard must be the surprise hot property in rock.

Pyromania - their last album - burned a hole in many an American college kid's pocket. Hysteria, their latest waxing, looks like easily surpassing the records held by its predecessor.

Last night it was easy to see why this five-piece are the most successful heavy rock band in the world.

Although they might have been inspired by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant in cold Northern bedsits during their teens, their current sound is far removed from the brutal rock married to mystical folk offered by Zeppelin.

It is of the Eighties. Twin guitarists, whose fluid style veers too often on the side of melody to gain any currency with thrash metal men, lead the band into the charts with a bright bubble-gum flavour.

Nowhere is this more evident than the current single - Animal. A supersonic pop song brimful of soaring harmonies and more hooks than a butcher's backshop.

No Mistakes

If Animal is their most successful single to date, then on last night's showing there could well be some more.

Live, the airbrushed FM fodder, geared unashamedly for the American market, makes the transition from record to stage as easily as one-armed drummer Rick Allen plays his computerised drum kit.

There were no mistakes and, thankfully, none of the patronising patter beloved of every aspiring HM band, from frontman Joe Elliott.

Instead, an appreciative, although not hysterical, audience got a well-paced and impressive show honed to a high standard but, to a certain degree, lacking in depth.

That's not to say the performance was bad,. It's just that despite the sexism of the lyrics and the predictable posturing, you can't get over the fact that these are a bunch of nice Northern lads.

Not for them the black mysticism of Zep and Sabbath. these chaps admirably shelved their careers until their crippled sticksman was back on his drumstool.

And beneath these virtues, unfortunately, there lurks none of the kind of cynical strengths that made Zeppelin the best at what they did.

If Led Zeppelin were the Hammers of the Gods then Def Leppard are the mallets at a Cub Scout camp.

By Nottingham Post 1987.

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