Levinhurst: Other Instruments

If you've ever seen Pete Best at a Beatles convention, or witnessed a low-level auto accident, then you can guess the feelings that accompanied ex-Cure member Lol Tolhurst's attempt at a comeback last week -- a little fascination, a little pity. Like the Beatles' ousted drummer, Tolhurst probably has a few axes to grind: originally the Cure's drummer, he later moved to keyboards, then to second keyboards. By the Disintegration album he was down to playing "other instruments." Asked what that entailed, group leader Robert Smith later claimed, "He didn't do anything." Tolhurst and Smith eventually fought a nasty, well-reported legal battle over the terms of his sacking from the group.

Save for a brief spell with the band Presence, Tolhurst has now been quiet for about as long as the 10 years he was in the Cure. The show a week ago Monday at the Middle East was the official local debut of Levinhurst, a band he's formed in Los Angeles with his wife, Cindy Levinson. And since Tolhurst really did make a contribution to the Cure -- at least in the early days -- there was reason to hope he'd come up with something. But Levinson was on stage only for the middle third of a 90-minute show, and the other advertised Cure alumnus, drummer Andy Anderson, had visa problems and missed the gig. That left Tolhurst on stage by his lonesome for most of the night -- and instead of bringing his keyboards or even his old drum kit along, he spent the evening playing "other instruments."

Which is to say, he turned on a DAT machine and noodled with some samplers. And he leaned surprisingly heavy on the Cure's legacy for someone who'd been fired. Looking a bit like a proper butler (or like Tim Curry playing one), Tolhurst opened with that most ominous of stage announcements: "We're going to try something a little different tonight." And for his first half-hour, he simply spun remixed versions of Cure tracks, most apparently taken from available 12-inches. The small crowd came to life and started dancing when he put on "Why Can't I Be You" and "The Walk" -- no surprise, they were good songs. But Tolhurst's live contributions were minimal: other than adding the occasional sound effect or rhythm loop, he mainly adjusted his headphones and tried his damnedest to look busy. At times he seemed to be distorting Smith's voice out of spite, but that was it for intrigue.

The embarrassment factor went down somewhat when his wife showed up for the Levinhurst material, which was reasonably solid in a Cure-meets-Portishead vein. A tall and athletic California type, Cindy Levinson had a voice well suited to ethereal pop, and she tried hard to liven things up, even dancing and interacting with the nonexistent band. But the material needed the dynamics that would come from live players or even live programmers, and the muffled sound kept it from working as a dance-club experience. Lyrics were buried in the mix -- but since the one song title I caught was "Matrix of Love," that may be a good thing.

By now the audience had dwindled to a faithful few dozen, and at least one discussion group had formed on the Middle East floor. Tolhurst wrapped up the night by messing with more samples and, for the grand finale, spinning another Cure track. One at least left the show with renewed respect for the Cure -- both because their music still holds up fine and because they had the good sense to kick this guy out. Element 47 opened the night with an altogether livelier set, mixing electronic backdrop with live-band muscle and proving that someone's still putting those new-wave influences to good use.

-- Brett Milano