Nostalgia is a fickle medium, often served in one of two distinct flavors: the mist-shrouded, monochrome yearning for a lost era, or the crazed, lysergic Technicolor of a future that never quite arrived. At the Usher Hall in Edinburgh, these two philosophies collided within a few days of each other, providing a masterclass in how legacy acts navigate the perilous waters of their own history.
The contrast was stark. On one hand, the turn-of-the-millennium electronic duo Basement Jaxx delivered a spectacle that felt aggressively forward-looking. On the other, post-punk stalwarts Echo & the Bunnymen appeared as ghosts of their own making, shackled to a persona that, while once revolutionary, now felt like a comfortable but limiting refuge.
For those seeking a high-energy revival, the experience of having Basement Jaxx reviewed in a live setting reveals a duo that has successfully weaponized the inherent “blank canvas” of electronic music. Unlike rock bands, whose identities are often inextricably tied to the physical presence and mythology of a frontman, Felix Buxton and Simon Ratcliffe have leaned into the anonymity of the decks to facilitate a total visual reinvention.
A Technicolor Blitz: The Basement Jaxx Experience
In Edinburgh, Basement Jaxx transformed the stage into a universe of kitsch sci-fi surrealism. The production was dominated by a precipitous pyramid set, a focal point from which a troupe of singers, dancers, and musicians spilled out in a choreographed whirlwind of energy. The visual palette was one of eye-popping excess: skin-tight silver bodysuits, man-sized vegetation, and pulsating neon superviruses that flickered under a barrage of lasers and moonbeams.
The duo wasted no time in establishing the evening’s intent, deploying heavy hitters like “Good Luck” and “Bingo Bango” within the first ten minutes. By augmenting their machine-driven tracks with live drums, percussion, electric guitar, and trumpet, Buxton and Ratcliffe breathed a chaotic, organic life into their catalog. The result was a “considerable beat blizzard” that fused house, garage, punk, and soul into a singular, relentless rhythmic drive.
The peak of the evening arrived with “Where’s Your Head At?”, a track that remains a cornerstone of early 2000s electronic music. The performance was amplified by a simulated simian stage invasion, pushing the energy to a point of genuine giddiness. It was a reminder that while the duo has not released new material in over a decade, their music possesses a timeless, kinetic quality that defies the typical constraints of a “greatest hits” tour.
“By the time they smashed through ‘Where’s Your Head At?’, I was feeling almost giddy”
The Melancholy of the Third Act
The atmosphere shifted dramatically a few days later when Echo & the Bunnymen took the same stage. While peers like U2, The Cure, and New Order have managed various iterations of a successful “third act,” the Bunnymen’s current trajectory feels more desultory. The tour, titled after their 1985 compilation Songs To Learn & Sing, was billed as covering the span from 1978 to 2026, though the reality was far more retrospective.
The setlist leaned heavily on the band’s first four classic albums, with only the title track from the 2001 album Flowers representing the current millennium. The band has not released a full-length studio record since 2014’s Meteorites, and the original lineup has dwindled to just singer Ian McCulloch and guitarist Will Sergeant.
The chemistry between the two was palpable, though not necessarily in a positive sense. There was a tension on stage that suggested a professional obligation rather than a creative passion—a dynamic akin to a divorced couple maintaining a family business. While Sergeant’s psychedelic-tinged guitar work remained precise and gorgeous, the evening hinged entirely on the mercurial mood of McCulloch.
The Weight of the Persona
McCulloch is a performer of undeniable majesty, and this particular night saw him in relatively good form. Despite a silken croon that occasionally drifted into a dry shout, his renditions of “The Cutter,” “Rescue,” and “Bring On The Dancing Horses” retained their stirring power. “The Killing Moon,” perhaps their most enduring masterpiece, shimmered with its original haunting quality, and the closing “Ocean Rain” soared with an epicity that reminded the audience why the band mattered in the first place.
However, the performance was underscored by a sense of melancholic yearning. This was most evident during “Nothing Lasts Forever” and “Villiers Terrace,” where the band integrated snatches of their formative influences, including Lou Reed’s “Walk On The Wild Side,” David Bowie’s “The Jean Genie,” and The Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues.”
The tragedy of the performance lay in the imagery. McCulloch, now in his sixties, remained draped in the black trenchcoat and sunglasses, enveloped in swirls of dry ice. While the image of the tousled-haired existentialist was exhilarating 45 years ago, it now feels less like a style choice and more like a last refuge—a persona he continues to inhabit because it is the only one he knows.
Contrasting Legacies: Reinvention vs. Preservation
The juxtaposition of these two shows highlights a fundamental divide in how artists age. Basement Jaxx treated their legacy as a springboard for a party, using the lack of a rigid “rock star” image to create a futuristic playground. Echo & the Bunnymen, conversely, treated their legacy as a museum, carefully preserving the artifacts of their youth even as the context for those artifacts has shifted.
| Element | Basement Jaxx | Echo & the Bunnymen |
|---|---|---|
| Visual Approach | Kitsch sci-fi, neon, pyramid set | Dry ice, black trenchcoats, monochrome |
| Sonic Energy | High-energy, big beat, house/soul | Melancholic, psychedelic post-punk |
| Relationship to Past | Reinvention and celebration | Preservation and yearning |
| Stage Presence | Collaborative, troupe-based | Tense, centered on the frontman |
the Basement Jaxx demonstrate succeeded because it refused to be a period piece. By embracing the absurd and the excessive, they proved that electronic music can evolve without needing a new album to justify its existence. The Bunnymen, while still capable of moments of profound beauty, seemed trapped in a loop of their own making.
For fans of the Bunnymen, the nostalgia is still potent, but it is a heavy burden to carry. For those who stepped into the world of Basement Jaxx, the experience was a reminder that the future is always available, provided you are willing to wear a silver bodysuit and dance through a simulated monkey invasion.
As both acts continue their respective tours, the industry will be watching to witness if the Bunnymen can discover a new way to exist in the 2020s or if they will remain the definitive architects of a bygone mood. Meanwhile, Basement Jaxx remains a vivid reminder that the dancefloor is the only place where the past and the future can coexist without conflict.
What are your thoughts on how legacy acts should handle their nostalgia tours? Do you prefer the high-concept reinvention of electronic acts or the atmospheric preservation of post-punk legends? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
