Wembley Arena
That music so seemingly dependent for its success on recording studio intricacy should effortlessly hoist 8,000 respectful young people to their feet in a frenzy of mass dancing greatly confounded my expectations. That I joined in myself shocked me even more. Once a byword for upwardly mobile London suburban young married taste, the self-effacingly named Level 42 presents an infectiously rounded night out.
Their precision-built records translate to the stage with muscle and wit. Level 42 construct a tightly-sprung, chattering bedrock of rhythm which satisfies the lower half of the body, and from there they set about exciting the waist up.
Whereas once their instrumental virtuosity, not to say velocity, made Level 42 champions of Britain’s jazz-funk fusion scene, the recent addition of streamlined pop tunes has boosted their constituency to well beyond those people who dangle furry dice from the rear-view mirror.
Apart from their new-found radio appeal, Level 42 can boast in bassist Mark King and keyboard player Mike Lindup, two front men whose likeability hinges on self-mocking repartee and a well-dressed ordinariness that closely chimes with their audience’s self-image. Likewise, Level 42’s songs never stray from the familiar scene: work, friends, family, good times, safe issues and adult romance are their recurring themes.
