There is nothing more glorious than the joy of music being passed from one generation to the next.
The Angels walk on stage to Hooper Brewster-Jones’ overture from Australia. Felix Hooper’s grandsons, John and Rick, nod at each other. John then looks at his son, Sam, on bass, and smiles. Four generations of Brewsters making music. Full circle. A dream come true. The power of music.
Forty-five years after they formed –“45 years better,” one fan remarks – the power of The Angels is undiminished. The Brewster Brothers’ incomparable guitar interplay, the rumbling rhythm section of Sam Brewster and Nick Norton, and the manic energy of frontman Dave Gleeson, a potent mix of menace and mirth. Then there’s the conductor, Rob John, who speaks both languages – classical and rock.
There are moving tributes to bandmates who are no longer with us. Love takes care of its own. I just want to be with you. Classic rock, classical music. Seemingly, a clash of cultures. In the end, this is a communal experience. Many members of the crowd have brought their children. Some are seeing The Angels for the very first time.
There’s an orchestra on stage. And a choir. The choir members smile as every member of the crowd joins them:
“No way, get f#cked, f#ck off!” The chant. A rallying cry. An Aussie mating call.
This is family – A Symphony of Angels.