The British reggae band is, in some circles, as cool as the current side of your pillow. But with their endless catalogue of summer-ready hits, they’ve established a permanent goodwill in New Zealand that’s only set aside for the likes of the Chasers. Their songs are so omnipresent at family gatherings and weddings, such staples of radio and TV, that I knew a CD’s worth of tracks through sheer cultural osmosis. I doubt I’m alone. The thousands gathered in Henderson represented a diverse blend of age and ethnicity. I caught Warriors, white-haired metal fans, and wine-drunk family members, and none were out of place. Rare is the act with such universal appeal.
The current lineup is a nine-piece, including original members – Robin Campbell, James Brown, Earl Falconer and Norman Hassan – as well as lead singer Matt Doyle. But the elephant in the room, inevitably raised within two sentences of “I’m seeing UB40!”, is Ali Campbell, their star vocalist who left in 2008 and now tours with his own band named “UB40 featuring Ali Campbell”. These splits are commonplace among veteran groups, but I feared having to subconsciously lower my expectations in advance.
Around 7.30, the Trusts Arena sound system jumped violently, and the opening act took the stage. Swedish rocker Eagle-Eye Cherry was in fine voice and had a guitarist who could shred nicely. He managed polite applause that slowly built with each number until his biggest hit and inevitable finale, Save Tonight. Even so, the loudest cheer he received by far was when he asked if the crowd was excited for UB40.
At 8.40, at last, many were stuck in the labyrinth queue for food and drink when the lights blacked out and white stage lights sprayed the crowd. A curious, synthy instrumental began while the standing-room floor flashed with phone cameras. Cheers deafened the Trusts Arena as the stage lit up to reveal the nine-piece band, standing and swaying to Here I Am (Come and Take Me). Those in the food queue flailed their arms to the rhythm.
UB40 perform at The Trusts Arena in Henderson, Auckland. Photo / Maria Tavui Laki
Keep on Moving was an apt follow-up, as the band roared through several hits without a word. Moving became Maybe Tomorrow and drew another wave of loud cheers. Doyle strutted across the stage, gestured widely and sang, “No one else can make me cry the way you do,” a sentiment that could not have felt farther away. This was a party.
It wasn’t just Doyle’s round black sunglasses that invoked shades of Ali Campbell. His vocal tone is quite similar, if slightly less nasal, and he delivered a strong performance. The rest of the band were also in fine form. Robin Campbell was a cool and calm presence during his stage patter. MC Gilly G was a reliable source of crowd energy during the night. During the aggrieved One in Ten, saxophonists Martin Meredith and Ian Thompson sandwiched trumpeter Laurence Parry as they rip-roared in each other’s direction to produce something resembling a saxophone duel. Both called a draw by turning to face the crowd instead.
It took six songs for Robin to address the crowd with a hearty “Kia ora, Auckland!” He maybe wanted to make up for lost time, as he name-dropped the city repeatedly before introducing the band. Robin mentioned this year’s LP, UB45, which received a few chuckles, before dropping the inevitable: “We’re also here for the new album.” The modern songs held their own, and the band performed these numbers with about 3% more excitement. These probably came at the expense of a few hits - I Got You Babe, The Way You Do the Things You Do, and Higher Ground were absent - but it showed UB40 is a going concern. Doyle’s compositions hewed closest to the dub reggae of the band’s early records. The minor-key plea Home is my favourite of these and lets his own accent come in, while Robin took a vocal for The Keeper, a wholesome mid-tempo cruiser dedicated to his wife. The crowd kept its amiable feeling, but the noise level in this portion reached polite conversation.
UB40 knew they could turn the hits back on at any time. They wisely broke up the new songs with a couple “hardcore fan requests” - Please Don’t Make Me Cry, which brought the phone screens back in droves, and Bring Me Your Cup, which provided hearty refreshment for the dozens trapped in the drinks queue. After the new songs, Matt Doyle shouted, “I want to hear you sing this one!” and launched into a laudable rendition of the epic Many Rivers to Cross. The crowd was unjustly quiet, and Robin agreed. “I guess we’ve gotta do one you can sing along to,” he intoned gently. “If you don’t know this one, we’re all going home!” Cherry Oh Baby fired up and the audience was bathed in magenta light. Loud bellowing and drunk dancing returned to the rows. They did, in fact, know this one.
UB40 turn on the hits at The Trusts Arena. Photo / Maria Tavui Laki
Robin almost seemed hesitant when he regained the mic a couple of songs later.
“I don’t want to hear none of this miming business. I wanna HEAR ya!”
He paused for a moment, and Doyle mumbled a note with the charisma of a deer in headlights.
“Red …”
My eyes widened at this inevitable shock. The stage lights were now crimson. He was back to full voice, yet the audience threatened to drown him out.
“Red, red WIIIII-iiiiineeeee …”
For the first time, the majority of the seated stands were, well, standing. An elderly couple behind me held hands in a ring shape and slow-danced. Even the toasting section received a word-for-word crowd sing-along. The band left to rapturous applause, and Red Red Wine closed the Red Red Wine Tour concert.
Until it didn’t. The audience’s clamouring didn’t focus into a proper “Encore!” chant, but it raised enough noise for Gilly G to run back on stage. The band members soon followed and launched into their beloved debut single Food for Thought. Red, blue and purple lights darted left to right like a police chase, and it got almost as loud a sing-along as Red Red Wine. One synth note was enough to drive the audience into a frenzy for the next song, Kingston Town. White strobe lights focused solely on the stage and risked drowning out the band visually as well as aurally. One member brought his phone camera to film the resplendent crowd and motioned vigorously towards each section in frame.
Robin announced they had time for one more. By then, low chords were already humming in the background. Everyone knew what was coming. The crowd belted every word of (I Can’t Help) Falling in Love with You an octave higher than UB40. It was by some distance the loudest sing-along of the night, and the band was content to sway on stage and let the crowd take over. I couldn’t help my smile. To feel people of all walks united in song, however briefly, was like living the end of a Disney movie. It was magical.
With my pre-show concerns for this band safely buried, Robin concluded with the line, “Hope we see you again!”. I’ll have to hope he’s right. As I ran down the Trusts Arena stairwells to beat traffic, the drums began clattering into a new rhythm. When I passed the final indoor exit, it was clear this was not a filler groove for the band to leave on, but a full-blown song (probably Don’t Break My Heart). It was incredibly frustrating, but too many people were exiting the venue to run back inside. All I could do, I’d done.
