Credo, The Old Rectory, Sutton Benger, England, UK, 25 August 2024

Béla Alabástrom

The England of the collective imagination is the England of winding country lanes and hedgerows, church spires rising above the treetops in quaintly named villages, and tranquil afternoons interrupted only by the thwack of ball against willow accompanied by a ripple of genteel applause. Slaloming between potholes of a size and depth worthy of an angry missive from Disgusted Of Tunbridge Wells (most non-Brits will need to see this), we arrived at the home of our lovely hosts, Rod and Sarah Moor-Bardell, The Old Rectory. And yes, it is every bit as majestic and imposing a pile as the name suggests. You can easily picture the vicar sipping tea on the lawn until the scream of the maid pierces the balmy summer air on finding the body of the retired colonel in the study. That is the first and slightly daunting impression, with two marquees set up in the garden (the temptation is to refer to it as "grounds"), one with tables and chairs, the other with a very professional stage and lighting set-up for the band we have travelled to see, Credo, who will be playing together for the first time in four years.

Any apprehensions kindled by the magnificent surroundings are immediately extinguished by the warm hospitality extended by Rod and Sarah. The atmosphere is very friendly and relaxed as we are welcomed into the family home. This is one of the many features which makes the experience of a house gig at The Old Rectory unique. Sarah, who stressed that she is not a cook, produces delicious meals for the guests (and I made certain to let her know that we had forked out a large sum for a vastly inferior dinner the evening before), two courses with a choice of mains and desserts. According to a tradition established by John Young of Lifesigns fame, the band members pitch in by serving the meal before joining the guests (at different tables, ensuring everyone has the opportunity to mix with them). It is a slightly surreal experience seeing the maestro of the keyboards, Mike Varty, ferry plates of chicken pie from the kitchen to the hungry audience members.

One of the most rewarding aspects of belonging to the prog community is the willingness to share musical recommendations, word of mouth praise from a fellow gig-goer at Spirit of 66 in Verviers leading to my recent discovery of Credo. Two albums purchased (Against Reason and This Is What We Do (Live in Poland)) and I was hooked. I had the immense privilege of interviewing Mark Colton before Rod summoned him to the stage.

Credo live, photo by Rod Moor-Bardell

Introducing the band, Rod informed the audience that he had last seen Credo play live in March 2020 when they had been poised to begin a tour, which was not to be, as the pandemic had other plans for us all. This would be their first live reunion since — not that you would ever have guessed from the superbly accomplished performance which followed. One of the hallmarks that sets Credo apart from their peers is the unflinching approach they take towards their chosen subject, delivering proper, grown-up, gritty prog that does not balk at stripping away the hypocrisies of social convention to expose real life in all its tawdry brutality. No prancing unicorns or fluffy bunnies here.

The opening song, Skintrade, from Rhetoric, immediately transported us from our opulent and idyllic surroundings to the darker and more sordid world of pornography, with a glimpse of the human cost behind the glossy fantasy of simulated desire, as reflected in the lyrics:

And did you ever stop to wonder
As you lie upon your bed
With the centrefold spread-eagled now
On the lies that she was fed?

One of Mark Colson's many gifts as a vocalist is his ability to convey empathy as well as searing ire, which he more than delivers on, perfectly paired with Tim Birrell's emotionally charged guitar and Mike Varty's sublime keyboards. This was an impeccable beginning to a brilliant set in which familiar material alternated with new songs from the forthcoming album We The Disconnected (release date possibly early next year).

Thanks to the excellent work of Tony White and Robin Dymond, the lighting and sound were of a quality superior to that of many venues I have visited, ideal for photography and filming, and sympathetically calibrated to bring out the best in the music and the performance, always in sync with the mood and atmosphere of an individual piece. This was not the equivalent of an amateur dramatics production at the village fête, but a slick and professional affair, allowing the audience to concentrate on what mattered to them rather than serving as an unwelcome distraction.

Left Or Right was the first foray into the new material, described by Mark as a song about growing up, observing what is going on in the world and becoming increasingly disillusioned. The point that we reach in our lives at which we tell ourselves we have done everything that society has demanded of us, we have jumped through all the hoops, married, bought the house, and we are left asking ourselves: "What the f**k was that all about?" Not a vacuous, cheerful ditty, in other words, but then again the audience did not come for sweetness and light.

Credo live, photo by Rod Moor-Bardell

The lyrics paint a portrait of an individual in the throes of a total breakdown, on the verge of making an unspecified but momentous choice from which there is no turning back. The horrible anguish and despair captured by the punchy interplay of guitar and drum is amplified further by the passion of Mark's vocals, ratcheting up the tension. Propelling the listener onwards to the narrator's ineluctable doom, making us complicit in the unfolding tragedy, but with the illicit and vicarious thrill of having witnessed it. This is Credo at their potent and uncompromising best. What a spectacular introduction to the new album.

Taking a step back to 2011's Against Reason, next up was Staring At The Sun, which had originally been available as a downloadable single and had obtained the accolade of single of the week, attracting more votes than P!nk. As Mark pointed out, its warnings about the planet's fate should we fail to take immediate action to remedy our botched stewardship were left unheeded. We continue to swathe ourselves in a comfort blanket of complacency and denial with all the dire consequences that this implies further down the line, a price to be paid by our children and grandchildren. In spite of the hard-hitting and unvarnished message of the lyrics, musically, the song is neither gloomy nor depressing. This is its strength, as it irresistibly draws the listener in, encouraging them to ponder the results of their inaction.

If anything, the second song from the new album, Tell Us Why, is even more sobering (and sadly relevant) in its subject than the first. As Mark explained, over the last couple of months, the country had been shaken to the core by attacks aimed at children, which seemed to him to echo some of the terrible acts of violence in the US. This left him wondering how long it would be before another atrocity was perpetrated in a British school. Nevertheless, the song primarily addressed what goes on in the US, where certain senators will claim that gun ownership is not a problem, will stand up for it, protect it and maintain that guns do not kill people.

What follows is an epic and impassioned indictment of gun culture and the appalling toll extracted by the inhumanity of broken souls (to quote from the lyrics) in their quest for the (ironically fleeting) immortality deriving from notoriety. It is a masterpiece, the spoken section hypnotically repeated to mirror the endlessly replayed scenes of the diminutive bodies of the youthful victims lined up in rows:

Guns don't kill people, people kill people
Hair-trigger weapons pardoned by slogans
Semi-automatic, angry fanatic
People kill people much better than guns
Magazine clips, marksmanship
Tighten the grip and fire from the hip

The music builds up to an almost frantic climax of drums and keyboards in synch, mirroring the nihilism of the shooter, and culminating in a frenzy of siren-like sounds, leaving the audience momentarily stunned by its sheer power and virtuosity.

Credo live, photo by Rod Moor-Bardell

The wisdom of Rod's advice to stay beneath the marquee became apparent as the heavens opened. Thankfully, rain most definitely did not stop play, as we moved from one variety of mass murder to another, the state-sanctioned killing of war, with Too Late To Say Goodbye, replete with the imagery of World War One, poppies and rows of white crosses commemorating the tens of thousands of dead. As you would expect, the song provides a stark examination of the dreadful cost of war in terms of human misery and suffering, reminiscent of war poet Wilfred Owen (from Dulce et Decorum Est: Dim through misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning):

Screaming helpless like a man on fire
As gurgling blood fill gas-corrupted lungs
Where pain beyond reason
Drowning slowly beneath a misty green sea

Once again, Credo's strength is to show the evils of warfare from the individual soldier's point of view, with no obfuscation, mystification or glorification clouding the brutal truth of the entrail-sodden mud, the chorus like a cry of concentrated agony, a poignant blend of machine-gun fire and familiar World War One songs by way of conclusion.

The third and final song from the new album, Show Me Your Reason, tackles the toxic nature of the modern workplace, with employers no longer satisfied with utter conformity and unquestioning obedience, now routinely demanding that we internalise their values and unquestioningly subscribe to their ethos in exchange for our salaries, seeking to control our very thoughts, and that we demonstrate a cult-like devotion towards them. All against the backdrop of cutthroat competition to get ahead, trampling over colleagues in pursuit of promotion, in a toxic atmosphere where bullying is rife. Just another day at the office then.

Tim's guitar solo is one of the stand-out moments, picking up on the emotion of Mark's vocals and taking it to new heights, as the music builds in intensity until it practically knocks the breath out of you with a perfectly aimed blow to the solar plexus.

Finally, again from Rhetoric, From The Cradle... To The Grave, described by the band on their website as "Two songs giving a view of love and lifelong obsession". A truly anthemic conclusion to the set, a veritable melodic feast, leaving the audience pleasantly satiated, with several people dancing in the rain.

Credo live, photo by Rod Moor-Bardell

This glorious comeback was greeted by a richly merited standing ovation. To cite the jubilant verdict from one audience member: "Credo are back!" Indeed, and with a vengeance. We were truly privileged to have been part of it.

Text by Béla Alabástrom.
Live photos by Rod Moor-Bardell, used by kind permission.

Links

Credo on Facebook

The Old Rectory House Gigs on Facebook

This concert review was published at the same time as the interview with Credo's singer Mark Colton and the interview with Rod Moor-Bardell on the venue, The Old Rectory.