Ahh funk metal that most interesting of anomalies that reared its ugly head in the late 80s. It was, to quote Steve Coogan, the moment that the white man learnt to dance. In many ways it was a bit of a catch-all term used to pigeonhole anything vaguely metallic that had a thumping funky bassline. So in went Faith No More, Red Hot Chili Peppers and woefully undervalued Atom Seed and Mind Funk. Extreme were an interesting addition to the party in that they were a lot more commercial and a lot less heavy than their compatriots. Essentially they took Van Halen's template and just funked it up little bit more. What they did have though was Nuno Bettencourt, one of the purest guitar talent to have ever walked the earth.

For all the various hiatuses, stints with Rihanna and solo careers it is obvious that the name Extreme still means something a good thirty years after their heyday. The Academy has been sold out for months and from my vantage point on the balcony, the floor is a sea of expectant faces.  Yes, there is the draw of the tentpole hits, but there is something deeper here than just the desire for nostalgia-driven karaoke. Extreme was the last of the arena-bothering super bands to emerge before grunge carpet-bombed that entire scene. As many other of their compatriots either implode or retire (or both) there seems to be a real desire to witness a real-life example of these extraordinary purveyors of pure entertainment.

Living Colour are fellow alumni of the whole funk metal movement, though they put much more emphasis on the funk as opposed to the metal and they always seemed to have more in common with the late lamented George Clinton than they did with Black Sabbath. When they emerged a good 35 years ago they were only nominally and rather a sideshow exhibit as they were an Afro-American metal band. It is sad and rather concerning that all these years later they are still an anomaly. The wave of black-led bands that we hoped would follow in theirs and spyz 64’s wake never happened. They still feel like the exception as opposed to the rule.

What it does mean is that they are an extraordinarily unique proposition, and they bridge the worlds of hip-hop and metal with an ease that many many others find extraordinarily difficult. They also seem really at ease with themselves. For many years they seemed to wrestle with the conundrum of whether they were a metal or a funk band. It is obvious that they have come to the conclusion that they are funk band that just so happens to contain, in one Vernon Reid, an absolute guitar god.

Sadly the gods of guitar gods seem to be a bit sheepish this evening as Vernon’s axe is barely distinguishable in the mix for the opening gambit of Led Zeppelin's ‘Rock 'n' Roll’. It thankfully rightens itself as they power into ‘Middle Man’, and by the time that we reach ‘Type'‘ he is soloing like a good ‘un. As I said, Living Colour have the air of a band completely at ease with their legacy. They are acutely aware they have a very short stage time (a paltry 40 minutes) and they are also acutely aware, that whilst the vast majority of tonight's audience have arrived early to see them this is not their crowd. They respond by ignoring anything that didn't come from their first three records and also peppering the set with rabble-rousing covers.

Interestingly, the biggest reaction comes when they dispense a melody of hip-hop classics that bassist Doug Wimbish had his hand in. There is an audible gasp when the collective realisation dawns that we are witnessing the genius of the man who crafted the legendary basslines that drive ‘White Lines (Don't Do It)’, ‘Apache’ and ‘The Message’. We may be at a rock gig, but the lyrics to those three songs are sung back louder than any other tracks this evening.  

‘Cult Of Personality’ brings the set to an inevitable conclusion and it sounds as explosive and genre-bending as when I first heard it thirty odd years ago. It is a timeless classic that exists outside linear musical development. It is fierce but funky, brutal but buoyant. A behemoth of a track that would feel startling and fresh if it turned up today. And then they are gone, and a technicolor flashbomb of kinetic energy.

Over a sprawling two hours set, Extreme perfectly balance spontaneity with choreographed showmanship. In many ways, Gary Cherone and Nuno provide the contrasting perspectives. Gary bounds around the stage pulling shapes like he is auditioning for a Broadway Production. He has the moves like Jagger, Roth and Madonna combined. However when it comes to audience interaction he is reserved and clearly sticks to the anointed script.

Nuno on the other hand chatters on like an ADHD kid high on Tartrazine. He engages in a continual stream-of-consciousness conversation with the front rows, lovingly calls a punter throwing shapes during ‘More than Words’ and berating himself for being a poor shot when distributing guitar pics.  There is a honesty and humility to his approach that is refreshing. He is undoubtedly one of, if not the guitarist of his generation but it is blindingly obvious that this hasn't gone to his head. 

This might be a slick highly rehearsed rock show with all the trimmings, but Nuno regularly breaks the fourth wall with slivers of well-aimed self-deprecating humour. The highly anticipated appearance of ‘More than Words’ is segued into by him stating that this is his favourite part the set because he gets to sit down and when you are over 50 having a sit down is better than orgasm. He talks for England and Wales and Scotland and his genuine affability gives the show an ongoing warmth that is usually absent in these sort of big budget productions.

The set list is also beautifully configured. They are acutely aware that for every diehard fan that knows off by heart the words to every track of the debut album, there are probably three attendees who are here on the strength of the big hit singles alone. Therefore, the crowd-pleaser are strategically placed throughout the set to ensure even the most fair-weather of fans don't lose interest. They also follow Living Colour lead by sprinkling the show with snippets of covers designed specifically to inject energy into the set when it is needed. ‘Play With Me’ is fanfared by the first verse of ‘We Will Rock You’, A slice of Sam Cooke’s ‘Cupid’ segways into ‘Cupid's Dead’ and ‘Fat Bottom Girls’ is used as a handy gateway drug into new track ‘BANSHEE’. It is a startlingly effective trick and just adds to the atmosphere of consummate entertainment.

The other really noticeable thing is how the show never sags. Nuno, Pat Badger and Kevin Figueiredo all get to show off their virtuoso musicality but it is always in a song. There is soloing aplenty, but it is cleverly sewn into existing tracks. There are very few instances where a member of the band is left onstage by themselves. Even with two hours to play with, there is a real pace to the show as every track masterfully blends into the next one.

The main set concludes with ‘Get the Funk Out’ and the Academy becomes a hole in time connected to a plethora of early 90s rock disco. As one the crowd sings in unison as if they were eighteen again. It is sweaty, it is life-affirming and it just illustrates perfectly the communal power of a great song. As they head off to do the requisite encore trick, you can tell there is plenty of set arithmetic going on within the masses as people realise that they have, by this point, dispensed with all the well-known tracks. This leads to a quite spectacular exodus from the hall of at least a quarter of the attendees.

Which is a real shame as Nuno reappeas lounging on the amps casually throwing out the rift from Van Halen's ‘Women In Love’. Neither ‘SMALL TOWN BEAUTIFUL’ or ‘RISE’ are bad tracks but there is an endemic risk to filling the encore with new material, no matter how long awaited it is. For such a well-organised and immaculately pasted show, the encore feels rather lifeless and lacking in the kinetic energy of the previous hour and 50 minutes. But that is a nitpick to be honest because the one thing that Extreme proved tonight is that they weren't a blip or a bookend to signal the end of the hair metal error. They are consummate performers who know how to entertain and everybody exiting the Academy, including those who sneak out after ‘Get The Funk Out’, leave with a gigantic grin on their faces .

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Extreme, Living Colour