There are a lot of people in this life who’ll tell you that ‘they don’t make ‘em like they used to’.
And frankly, we think that they’re talking nonsense. Movie stars? We’d take Jack Black and Jacob Elordi over James Dean any day. Furniture? Who needs generationally bestowed, hand-crafted oak sideboards when you’ve got the wonders of an IKEA flatpack. And as for cars? Well, we don’t know about you, but we think that the engineering brilliance of a Fiat 500 far outstrips anything that Aston Martin popped out ‘back in the day’.
But if it’s supermassive synthpop bangers you’re after, then we think that there might – just might – be a case to be made that they, truly, don’t make ’em like they used to. And if you were ever in any doubt, all you had to do was head to The Human League’s show at Good Times Live, near Bath.
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Nearly fifty years after the release of their seminal long-player, Dare, The Human League returned to the South-West for a night of unrivalled Eighties pop excellence.
The opening duties were left to the omni-energetic Martin Kemp, who rocked up in an enviable sequined shirt and white trouser combo and proceeded to spend an hour blasting out classic Eighties bangers, dancing around the stage like a silver-haired puppy dog and occasionally throwing t-shirts with his face on into the front row. It was, obviously, fantastic.
By the time he closed with Spandau Ballet’s Gold – because of course he did – the crowd were in the palm of his hand. If he’d instructed the front row to storm Parliament and instate him, Simon Le Bon, and Tony Hadley as the leaders of our fair country, it would have happened. That, dear reader, is the power of the Kemp.
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A short amount of time – and, perhaps, a couple of ciders – later, Marc Almond took to the stage for an hour of Soft Cell classics and cuts from his extensive solo repertoire.
Despite being on the eve of his seventieth birthday, Almond delivered a set with the bombast, energy, and vocal prowess of a man half his age. It’s hard to argue with the man’s back catalogue, too – after all, anyone who can casually drop Tainted Love two-thirds into his set must have some degree of self-aware confidence in the strength of his set.
And then, before we knew it, it was time for The Human League to take to the stage.
Led by the still-cool-as-hell Phil Oakey, the synthpop pioneers spent the next ninety minutes casually powering through a set of bona fide anthems. It takes a skilled songwriter to craft a pop song as irresistible as Don’t You Want Me, a piece of social commentary as powerful as Seconds, and a throbbing, club-ready banger as pulsing as Sound Of The Crowd – let alone to still be performing them with fluency, and passion, as care after multiple decades as a band. When we say that Oakey’s voice has aged like a fine wine, that’s not doing it justice. If anything, he sounds better. He’s lost none of his timbre, but gained a power and control that can only come through years of careful cultivation. It’s hard not to be impressed.
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It’s a lovely setting for a night of bangers, too.
If you’re not familiar with Good Times Live, it’s a small but perfectly formed festival on the outskirts of Bath, and one that’s gradually gaining a (well-earned) reputation a hidden gem of the Southern English festival calendar. It, does, admittedly, feel like something a lazy journalistic cliché to claim that it’s Good Times by name and good times by nature – but frankly, dear reader, we don’t give a damn, because it’s true.
By the time the band finish with a closing triple-threat of Don’t You Want Me, Being Boiled, and the chronically incredible slice of songwriting that is Together In Electric Dreams, we don’t think there’s a body left in that field that hasn’t spent the last ninety minutes dancing like there was nobody watching. And isn’t that the whole point of a gig in a field?
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So, yes, there are still people making synthpop bangers in this day and age. Some of them are doing an admirable job, too.
But are any of them really as good at it as The Human League are? Do they have the same style, or the ability to pack out fields across the UK after five decades of existence?
And crucially, after said five decades, are any of their songs likely to be met with a roar as loud as the one that greeted the opening notes of Don’t You Want Me?
We don’t know about you, but we wouldn’t be willing to bet on it. So, long reign The Human League – pioneering party-starters, a guaranteed good-time gang, and the penners of synth-driven bangers so bombastic, they’ll forever remain untouchable.
