The first time I saw New Order was at Derby’s Blue Note club, shortly after the release of Ceremony. At best, it was a muted affair. The band climbed on stage directly from the bar, it was far from a full house and Peter Hook sat on a chair throughout the performance. However, the gig was notable for its ending. Despite a hardcore fan base, whooping and bellowing enthusiastically, Barney’s mic and Hooky’s chair remained unoccupied. Eventually the house lights came up and we dispersed. There had been no encore - the first time I’d experienced this omission at a gig.
In truth, I felt a little cheated. I’d always assumed it was part of the deal: the price of a ticket included the support act, the main feature and a bit more of the main feature after they’d spent five minutes in the wings. What had gone wrong this time? I figured the idiots calling for ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ had got up the band’s collective noses so effectively they’d mooched off to Macclesfield in a grump. Actually, that could well have been true.
However, I’ve since come to the conclusion New Order had reached a point it took me another twenty-odd years to accept - the rock concert encore is the most pointless, insincere, foolish and unnecessary ritual in whole of show business.
The more you think about it, the dafter the whole pantomime becomes. Pre-rock, the purpose of an encore was to rewarded a particularly exemplary performance by an orchestra or artist, by refusing to allow them to leave the building until they had graced an auditorium with one more tune. This probably culminated in a standing ovation and a shower of roses. But it was the exception. It existed to denote a rare pleasure and satisfaction felt by the audience. Quite when rock tours started to include a compulsory encore in every night’s set isn’t really clear, nor why. Perhaps it was an attempt to convince the punters they had attended a uniquely excellent show and to buy albums as a memento. Or at least to demonstrate value for money – sort of a 10% extra free with every band watched? Either way, it caught on like wildfire and has been adopted by almost every live rock or pop group since.
I can just about fathom the appeal to a band’s fans. A gig is their opportunity to demonstrate their undying appreciation for the act’s talent and charisma. Whistling and cheering throughout the set is all very well, but to summon their idols back to the spotlights for further performance feels like the apex of approval.
Except, they’re not. The band is returning come what may. It’s on the set list, it’s built into the timings and it’s probably even in the contract. The entire crowd could sit on their hands in absolute silence for the awkward hiatus and those boys will still pile back, ciggies aloft, white towels around their shoulders.
As an unwavering supporter of Manic Street Preachers, I’ve enjoyed them in concert on many occasions and I have seen them do encores. But happily, the band adhere to the original spirit of the concept, only reappearing on the odd occasion when the gig has really levitated and something stupendous has transpired (or more stupendous than usual – as I say, I’m something of an admirer).
So what exactly does the encore offer the band performing this charade, religiously, night after night? Other than a hollow feeling of pretence and repetition, that is? I can only assume that management have convinced the performers the adoring hordes will ditch them like a needy lover if they don’t follow their set with four minutes of darkness followed by the two big hits - deserved or not.
And, to be fair, they may have a point. But how pathetic is that?
