Fourteen months since their last performance at the Troubadour, Clinic returned with a new album and with new unexpected outfits. Clinic has always augmented their trademark surgical masks with matching uniforms, often with a historical nod. For this tour the four Liverpool musicians chose to pair their masks with contrasting color Hawaiian shirts. The outfits, with their festive, holiday vibe, were probably chosen more for comfort than to match the mood of the band’s latest LP Do It!
The new album, like its predecessors, is a progression more than a departure from the music of their seminal debut Internal Wrangler. The sound is still dark, with a strong emphasis on rhythmic experimentation. Clinic still perform with, yes, surgical precision and a serious demeanor, further making the Hawaiian shirts an ironic gesture.
After the opening song lead singer Ade Blackburn announced to the crowd that the first half of the show will consist entirely of the new album and that the second half will be songs “from the archives.” I was relieved to hear this since it meant both the band and the audience could be spared from being within ear shot of requests yelled out between songs. This also allowed the audience to fully concentrate on whether the new material revealed any additional traits through its live translation. Perhaps the best way to interpret the crowd’s impression of the new songs is to contrast it with the reaction to the second half of the show. While the first part of the show was generally calm, the second half generated a large mosh pit in the middle of the audience. This being the intimate Troubadour, it basically meant the bumping and shoving extended from the stage to the bar. Obviously the calculated stop and start rhythms of the new songs did not help to draw out the same reaction from the crowd. Fortunately, by the time the frenzy had started, I had move to the side of the venue during intermission and was spared of any collateral douses of perspiration.
Most of the crowd stayed and urged the band to come out for a second encore. I could only recall a handful of shows I have been to at the Troubadour where this occurred, and that is not a jab at L.A. crowds. Clinic made their way down the stairs for what would be the fourth time. As they walked across the stage some of the members were still putting back on their masks. While not giving a clear glimpse of their identities, you can imagine them, just minutes before, kicking back in the dressing room with their Hawaiian shirts, sipping on colorful drinks like they were on vacation. Touring should always be so relaxing.
