Electric Light Orchestra

Wembley or Bust (2017)

 
  
  1. Standin' in the Rain
  2. Evil Woman
  3. All Over the World
  4. Showdown
  5. Livin' Thing
  6. Do Ya
  7. When I Was a Boy
  8. Handle with Care
  9. Last Train to London
  10.Xanadu
  11.Rockaria!
  12.Can't Get it Out of My Head
  13.10538 Overture
  14.Twilight
  15.Ma-Ma-Ma Belle
  16.Shine a Little Love
  17.Wild West Hero
  18.Sweet Talkin' Woman
  19.Telephone Line
  20.Turn to Stone
  21.Don't Bring Me Down
  22.Mr. Blue Sky
  23.Roll Over Beethoven
  

  
  

Wembley or Bust marks a late-career live outing for Jeff Lynne’s Electric Light Orchestra, presented in both CD and DVD formats. The music itself—lush, orchestrally dense, and impeccably arranged—remains true to the ELO ethos: a meticulous fusion of rock and classical grandeur. On paper, this release ought to be a triumph. Sadly, it is not.

The CD, for all its sonic strengths, suffers from a fatal flaw: the tracks fade out individually. This artistic decision—if it was a decision—renders the experience inert. Live albums thrive on momentum, on a sense of being swept from one moment to the next. Here, that momentum is sacrificed at the altar of post-production neatness. The listener is never allowed to feel present at a concert; instead, one is left with a series of impeccably recorded studio outtakes, each ending in an unceremonious digital fade. It is not the first live album to fall prey to this practice, but one hoped that, by now, someone would be paying attention. Evidently not.

The DVD fares no better, and in some respects, worse. Though it preserves the full setlist—mercifully—it interrupts the performance every five or six songs with what can only be described as promotional detritus: interviews, rehearsal footage, and behind-the-scenes snippets that would be far more appropriate as bonus material. These interludes might have value in isolation, but here they derail any narrative or emotional build. The result is a jarring, fragmented experience that undermines the sense of event.

Visually, too, the choices are curious. Crowd shots abound, many of them focused not on the energy or diversity of the audience, but on a particular cross-section: affluent, rhythm-challenged, middle-aged white concertgoers captured mid-boogie. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad. One comes to watch the band, not an accidental casting call for a cholesterol medication commercial.

ELO, to their credit, deliver. Lynne remains a master craftsman, and the music—when uninterrupted—is sublime. But the presentation is careless. One gets the sense that the music was respected, but the audience was not.

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