CityLife

America + Michael Weston King

America at the Bridgewater

A BAND could pick itself few more ambitious names than America, but back in the early Seventies that’s just what the anglo-American three-piece did before setting off around the world to export the soundtrack to fading sunsets, dusty deserts and cattle rustling.

Maybe that cliché doesn’t quite stack up, but their musical DNA needs little analysis.

With rhythms stolen from sun-bleached backwaters and layered vocals, they borrowed the rule book from peers like Buffalo Springfield and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

The fact the two remaining members are in Manchester with little fanfare suggests that legendary status can’t be borrowed from their heroes in the same way,.

Impossibly tight shirts

Still nostalgic videos serve as an effective reminder that they used to play to vast crowds and fit into impossibly tight t-shirts.

Riverside is the first stop on a lengthy set list and from the circle the acoustically perfect Bridgewater took on the sound of a tiled bathroom.

Too much polish had been added to the mix and an otherwise tidy opening disappeared in layers of distant echo.

Three acoustic guitars and up to four harmonising voices would give any rock fan’s ears too much work to do, and America dish up a wall of noise that becomes claustrophobic rather than awe-inspiring.

Embarrassing Dad category

Gerry Beckley clings to the ageing rock star image in gleaming white trainers, shirt and tie, giving McCartney a run for his money in the embarrassing Dad category.

The Fab Four theme continues as America offer their tribute to Eleanor Rigby which is loaded with unnecessary rock operatics, although their aptitude for harmonies definitely comes in handy.

The Border is where the band get interesting, an electric guitar offering sweet relief from the layers of vocals.

Crunching riffs give a much needed aroma of danger and suddenly we can see the fugitive come out in both Beckley and Dewey Bunnell.

Doomed to failure

The cinematic images of taking to the road to escape a pursing Sheriff soon clear with an ill-advised cover of California Dreamin’ of which any attempt is surely doomed to failure.

An encore of their legendary first single Horse With No Name ensures that America’s leave town on a high, although an evening of evidence gathering proves ultimately that their opening shot was never bettered.