03/11/2025
THE STRANGE CASE OF WILLIE DOWLING VERSUS DURAN DURAN…
Over the weekend I found myself in the company of two eighties artists in the shape of the legendary Duran Duran and the slightly less legendary Willie Dowling. One of them played the sprawling CO-OP Arena in Manchester, an exercise in capitalist greed if ever I saw one, whilst the other was in the Copper Bar, a small annexe in Manchester’s Band On The Wall venue. One of them was a bloated carcass of a band, relying on muscle memory so that they could go through the motions, the other was a genial madman that imbibed the spirit of Todd Rungren at his most angular and melodic and Zappa at his weirdest best, but welded to the pop charms of The Feeling, Hoosiers, Ben Folds Five and Jellyfish.
Obviously, it was Dowling in the Copper Bar, but it shouldn’t have been. He should have been carried around on a sea of adulation by twenty thousand people at the CO-OP Arena, lauded as a revolutionary genius, a politically charged prophet leading the crusade against injustice and wrongdoing. Whilst Duran Duran on the other hand should have been languishing in salubrious places like Warrington’s Lion Hotel or Runcorn’s Cherry Tree, staples of the eighties gig scene, before they imploded due to arguments as to who got to wear the best clothes or make-up.
Sadly, that’s an alternative experience and one that I’d rather live in. The reality was paying £100 to see a band that went through the motions, with the bonus of £25 to park your car and £9.80 for a pint of lager, with a surcharge of £50 just to breathe the air in the venue – I’d like to point out that I made that last bit up, but it’s coming. Or you could have paid £12.50 to see a creative genius at the peak of his powers, a visionary whose songs will live long in your memory and, mores the point, they’ll mean something.
The point I’m making is that these huge arena gigs will kill grassroots venues and artists if we are not careful. There should be some sort of tax or levy that for every arena ticket you buy, you must pledge to buy a ticket for a grassroots gig of your choice. It’ll sadly never happen, and Duran Duran’s Simon Le Bon will continue to reap the rewards for being one of the dreariest frontmen I’ve ever seen, a real dullard with a voice to match. Mild Boys at best, who only came alive for the last twenty minutes, Duran Duran were no match for Dowling who captivates throughout on songs like ‘Let Us Begin’, ‘I Killed My Imaginary Friend’ and ‘In The Ocean’.
But twenty thousand people can’t be wrong, or can they? This weekend, David really did triumph over Goliath.