Vince Clarke/Sunroof

London School of Economics, London - 17 November 2023

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"He's sweetly nervous for someone who has had so many decades of performance under his belt. It's the first time he's done it on his own."

The second tickets went on sale for this event I grabbed them. This was a hugely rare concert for Vince Clarke, unveiling his first solo album (really?! I couldn't quite believe it) Songs of Silence. Despite being really interested to hear this new work, I intentionally avoided listening to anything available online as I thought it would be interesting to come to the work completely fresh. Would it be pop? Would it be experimental? I wanted to wait to see.

So, off I went to the LSE. I had received some very informative and thorough emails from the Erasure Information Service which laid out everything we needed to know - doors were at 18:30, and I got there right on the dot. There was already quite a queue - the promise of a limited amount of signed merchandise brought many out early. Once inside, I joined the winding line of people going down the stairs, grabbed some signed postcards, CD/vinyl and an event t-shirt. It was all very reasonably priced - though actually paying for it proved a bit difficult in a basement with no internet signal (card only, with people waving the machine about trying to get it to work).

Photos [L-R]: Sunroof (Credit: E. Gabriel Edvy), Sunroof (Credit: Rob Dyer), Sunroof (Credit: E. Gabriel Edvy)

Once inside, everyone is clustering to the front to get a good spot. I make the mistake of deciding to get a drink at the bar - due to a combination of young students working it and a faulty keg the queue was long, and slow. So slow, that by the time I actually got it the venue had become quite full, a solid wall of people in the space where I had been, and the temperature is rising. Now not wanting to squeeze into the middle, I find a place on the side, next to some large LED panels. Were they for the show? Or just there for some student thing? Whatever, they provide a nice cubbyhole for me. The excitement is tangible, and there's a lot of people who have come a long way (some internationally) for this.

First up is Sunroof - the duo of Mute owner/mastermind Daniel Miller and producer extraordinaire Gareth Jones. Sitting to far stage right and minimally lit, they take their places behind their mountain of modular equipment. Their set is alternatingly noodly, experimental, deep, subtle and delicate. They're more experimental than music-to-dance-to, and the crowd are thankfully quiet, appreciative and absorbing it. For it being a student union, they've got a great sounding setup, and a pleasantly large video screen on the stage, which Sunroof use to great effect for their abstract/textural accompanying visuals. The previous time I saw them was at the Iklectik in April this year, where I couldn't see either the visuals or them, so it was nice to finally get a proper view. I love Sunroof, and they are the perfect (and only logical) addition to the night.

Then, after an intermission which seems to last forever, Vince Clarke arrives on stage accompanied by Reed Hays. "Thank you for coming to this event, we're really chuffed", he deadpans. He's sweetly nervous, for someone who has had so many decades of performance under his belt. It's the first time he's done it on his own, and he normally relies on Andy Bell to fill in the gaps between songs, he admits - but the crowd loves him and offers lots of support.

Photos [L-R]: Vince Clarke, Sarah-Jane Morris (Credit: E. Gabriel Edvy), Vince Clarke & Reed Hays & Mario (Credit: Rob Dyer)

The music is a really lovely surprise - not what I was expecting from someone who has made their name with bands like Yazoo, Depeche Mode, and Erasure. Made during the covid lockdown days, it's a brooding, portentous, ambient dive. The tracks are based on single note drones generated from a modular synth, and mostly instrumental, barring Passage, featuring operatic vocals performed live by Sarah-Jane Morris, often compared (and rightly so) to the work of Górecki. Hays also plays live cello for the emotive Lamentations of Jeremiah, which creates a wonderful sense of movement.

Each track is accompanied by a visual, ranging from animations, abstract textures, vintage medical and military films, to Super Mario, all created or curated by Clarke. A reworking of Blackleg, a traditional miner's song, is made even more impactful accompanied by a loop of grainy black and white footage of miners walking from their hellish pit. The visual aspect isn't limited to the screen on stage - those two massive led panels on either side of the venue leap into life, with dazzling colour displays providing a counterpoint to the often grim material on the main screen. There's a dread, a portentous end-of-the-worldness about it all that really punches through but also a frailty, a spirituality and a humanity to both the music and the visuals that really left an impression with me. Definitely music for a troubled time.

I thought this was a really lovely, well thought out and executed concert, and I'm really glad I held off hearing the album beforehand - getting the full experience really made it worth the wait. Freaking loved it. 10/10

Setlist: Cathedral, White Rabbit, Passage, The Cave (non-album track, for Electronic Sounds magazine), Imminent, Red Planet, Lamentations of Jeremiah, Mitosis, Blackleg, Scarper, Drone 8 (unreleased track), Last Transmission 

Review + Photos: E. Gabriel Edvy