Events guy Rob Sproul-Cran scribed up last week’s action masterfully; gon
yersel, Rob!

OOTB 279
========
Sparrahawk, Tim Allen, Freeloadin Frank, Aaron Lowen Bemer, Lewis
Campbell, Starship, Ghostboy, Davy Watson, Tony, Ross Baird, Aaron Wright.

Sparrahawk
The right honourable Spamborskee, tonight driving proceedings, opens them
too with a set on behalf of his full band, Sparrahawk. Opens with
‘Seagulls’, which I’m more used to hearing unplugged at ear-shredding
close quarters. With the OOTB PA, Spam could afford to let his facial
muscles do the work – anyone with more animated eyebrows, please let me
know. The next is unaccompanied, and Spam makes the most of not being
guitar-bound to strut around the performance area. A masterclass in
compelling musicianship, you cannot look at anything else in the room when
he plays. A red light on the stage also adds menace to this, a celebration
of a misspent youth, rapped in poignance. “Get it up ya while yer young!”
–‘Carpe Diem’ has never been said so well. He finishes with a tale of a
‘Secret Squirrel’, which may or may not be a euphemism.

Tim Allen
‘You Fly, You Dream, You Cry’ introduces a beautiful tone in both guitar
and voice. Opens with muted syncopation but settles into American alt rock
of Counting Crows ilk, only without 17 instruments. More instruments could
be handy – Tim seems most at ease when not juggling guitar and vox at the
same time. A real lighters-aloft number. ‘She Tells You That She Loves
You’ is a biting Lou Reed-esque tale of betrayed love. I should have been
high to truly appreciate the chilled out angst, but with lines like “she
smiles and watches you bleed”, not sure I could have coped. Pretty sore
stuff – hope it’s not autobiographical. ‘Bullies of the World’ is a
cautionary tale, that laments the state we are already in. Tim’s voice
croaks satisfyingly, but the song could do with more drive, to hammer home
the point, rather than have us seek it out.

Freeloadin Frank
‘By The Rubble In Palestine’ bastardises ‘Rivers Of Babylon’ to great
effect. Tells the sorry tale of the West Bank. Frank’s far-from-dulcet
tones bring immediacy to a subject he clearly cares about a great deal. I
for one am just glad we can hear this stuff – if in the US, the
anti-semitism police would stop it in a second. This sh1t’s important –
thank you Frank. On a lighter note, ‘I Wanna Be A Guru’ extols the many
virtues of having one’s own ashram, most notably the “20st groupies”. Come
on – we’ve all thought about it. Right? Finishes with the best
should-have-been-in-the-soundtrack song of the night – all the versions of
the film would have been better for it. An ode to the purest love there
is: that between a girl and a 100ft gorilla. ‘Climbing up the Empire State
Building’ is catchy as hell – it’s always a good sign when the audience
sing along.

Aaron Lowen Bemer
Apologies if the name’s not right – it’s even sillier than mine. Aaron
does instrumentals, which means they have to pretty damn good to sustain
interest with no vox. Luckily, they are. Beautiful flourishes that
intrigue but don’t detract. The chords are complex and run up and down the
fretboard; a rock-steady beat maintains structure. Reminded me of Davy
Graham’s ‘Angie’ in the best way. ‘Waiting For You, Waiting For Me’. Opens
on a drone worthy of a double bass. His tone and volume control is great.
A comforting feeling of familiarity to it, but it still keeps me
interested.
His last shows off brave and flowing technique, combining full notes and
harmonics at will. It looks fairly easy. It’s not. Fast and fluid, it
builds as we go. If John Martyn played (perish the thought) Snow Patrol,
this would be the outcome. This guy will be pimped for accompaniments
before he knows it. I just hope he finds the time to do his own stuff too.

Lewis Campbell
“I’ve never done this before”, I think I heard him saying. I don’t believe
him – this guy is accomplished and, if not actually, gives the impression
of being totally at ease on stage. His first, about a break-up, builds on
a fine tenor voice to cut abruptly and effectively to spoken, then back.
It grabs you by the throat for attention. His second, about “some ugly
buildings”, portrays love found against a community lost, as urban
regeneration sweeps all before it. He has a fearless high voice, which can
only improve with more practice. ‘There May Be Trouble Ahead’ – I’m sure
he gets this a lot, but it’s not the opening line to a Morecambe and Wise
classic, rather a brooding tale. The spoken word he weaves into the set
again surfaces, but as always is delivered as well as his singing – it’s
not an afterthought. One of my standout favourites of the night. Cracking.

Starship
‘Scarecrow Man’ I always thought this was called ‘Skeletor Man’, and I
must say I’m mildly disappointed to find it’s not [me too- has Stoddart
changed his song’s names as well as his own????]. Nyk Stoddart doesn’t do
subtle (you should see the colour of his myspace), at least not in
delivery. I’m sure there are a few lyrics intricacies that I’m yet to
grasp, but for now I’m washed along by this hard blues with a twist…
Speaking of which, ‘Bad Blues’ rails against the “same old crap on TV
again” in a music-fuelled mania. As he careers around the stage and more,
Nyk proves once again that, regardless of whether you like his stuff, it’s
all about performing songs, not just playing them.

Ghost Boy
‘Where You Going With That Gun?’ is slow indie that talks of “too many
people killing, too many dying” and the sobering tale of a friend losing
their way in spectacular fashion. He confirms what I suspected, saying at
the end “but it’s true!”, and in doing so seems to miss the point that if
the song doesn’t speak for itself, a footnote won’t help. The authenticity
of the message is lost in delivery. A new one now, which sounds like a
slow ‘Girl From Mars’. I for one wouldn’t mind Ash axe-girl Charlotte
Hatherley adding some harmonies and sex-appeal as he sings “I’ve fallen
down again”. In his third, there are catchy licks, but a meatier sound and
a steady beat would elevate this one. I have never warmed to Ghost Boy’s
onstage persona, but then neither have I had the courtesy to get to know
him before writing this.

Yogi
‘Krakatoa’- utterly undaunted by hecklers, even if they are of the
pleasant OOTB kind. This angry song mixes palm muting with the brick wall
of a relationship to great effect. Drives along like a polar bear on a
Harley.

Tony
An unassuming presence who introduces himself with nice finger-picking on
‘Feel No Need’. It’s good enough to sustain interest on its own, and then
the vocals come in. A great voice, talking of a jealous man. Creepy but
soothing. A new one, think he said first time that night, is a mobile
phone advert classic. A stupidly catchy falsetto lick, sung in a high
throated voice like I’ve never heard. Happy strumming and accomplished
changes of tempo and timbre make a beautiful package. To be honest though,
he can relax – Orange et al will only use the first 20 seconds and still
pay him silly money for it.‘On the Run’ is a Clapton-esque minor blues. It
could do with high vox harmony, but lifts instantly with the harmonica. By
the end it is knee-slapping vitriol. Most satisfying. Altogether, bit of a
gem. I would buy his album. Simple.

Davy Watson
Segues neatly from drunken heckler to rambling blues man. Ably joined by
Aaron Lowen Bemer, this one’s minor with lots of augmented chords (they’re
the ones that sound like a raised eyebrow). Drudgery in lyrical content is
carried by exuberance and on-stage interaction. “I’m a shambles” says
Davy, not as lyric, more just as a comment on his own state. ‘Catch The
Foxes’ sees Spam join Davy for a top notch rendition, when it gets going.
There’s a lot of momentum in runaway trains. Lastly, Davy and Spam impro
over a slide riff from Davy, while Spam takes about two seconds to decide
on lyrics and launches into them. Davy’s moothie adds to Spam’s tornado,
and the whole thing is carried along entirely on the confidence of the two
performers. Who needs to write songs beforehand?

Ross Baird
mmm… Nice vest. Sorry, was distracted by Ross’s fetching threads. Hailing
> from that musical hotbed of (I believe) Iona, Ross produces a very tidy
package of vox and guitar. He has the control expected of a guitar tutor,
which he is, but a presence that is far from a given. When Darren
Thorn-logan-blackberry joins on harmony vox, things get sublime. Davy
Watson is making funny noises of excitement in the corner, and while I
can’t quite match his Barbarella impression, I do have goosebumps. Song of
the night – no doubt. I can’t remember the name, I was too busy listening.
‘Ode to Colum’s Jig’ lies down and drone on bass strings then lets the
melody shine through with some very fine guitar playing indeed. A
headliner before very long at all, I think. I hope.

Aaron Wright
Second Aaron of the night, though it doesn’t seem to bother him, he plays
‘Teardrops’. It features high tenor singing “I’ll never heed the signs”.
Alan on harmonica (must have jammed on stage with at least 500 Edinburgh
musicians – about as ubiquitous as a plectrum) adds to a nice arrangement.
‘Trampoline’ I haven’t heard this in a while, but as Aaron is no doubt
aware, this is his ‘Creep’. In the future, he won’t be aloud to leave the
stadium without encoring with this. He sings of having “nowhere to fall.”
Crowd-surfing will probably take care of that worry. It is a great melody
– I’m still singing it.

Compere: ACL Spamborskee
Review: Rob Sproul-Cran
Sound: O’Hara???

OOTB 278 November 22 2007

Finally, Daniel Davis gave his toupee’s worth on last week’s proceedings in an interestingly coiffured style. Did he feel more Vidal Sassoon or Sweeney Todd? Read on and find out.

Rob Sproul-Cran, Susanna MacDonald, Nyk Stoddart, Chris Kaufman (debut), Calum Carlyle, Ben Young, Daniel Vzeu, Electric White Boy, Nick Smith, Ton (debut), Jim Tudor (debut), Ross Neilson, Stephen Harrison (debut).

‘Twas a winter’s night and all honour to those braving the cold to bring their wares to the music marketplace that is OOTB. After the last few reviews I’m puzzled as to how I could be equally surreal… but on proud display tonight were all manner of beautiful barnets the likes of which may never be seen in this town again. That said, I will at least try to mention the songs.

Rob Sproul-Cran

Our newly appointed master of events on the OOTB committee brings dreadlocks to the connoisseur of coiffeur.

Perhaps he didn’t look at the rota but never, and I mean never wander nonchalantly up to the reviewer and say ‘I wish I’d put some thought into what I’m going to play’. If you are as talented as Rob then maybe you can get away with digging out your greatest hits. He starts with ‘She Steals Away’ which starts with parallel 9ths which remind me of ‘What I Am’ by Edie Brickell. All this falsetto stuff is hard to achieve first song of the night, and would have been better after something simpler as a warm-up first, but it’s a great song nonetheless. Then he plays ‘The Father’ , a gripping if chilling spoken number which could be described either as touching or creepy (if you don’t know it, it involves scalpels and eyebrows and I’ll leave the rest to your imagination). As if to engender even more confidence, he then announces ‘a lively one to counterbalance the drudgery we’ve just witnessed’. He may have a point, perhaps we should stipulate that the first performer must play all happy songs! Lastly his best of the night, ‘One Day Soon’, a slightly jazzy number with considerable vibe in the accompaniment that could be Jack Johnston.

Susanna McDonald

Susanna MacDonald in 2005

Her first is inspired by a Noel Coward poem ‘Remembered Laughter’ which was found with his dead body. Susanna’s songwriting is musically sophisticated, and this song not an immediate crowd pleaser. It appeared to start in 5/8 and then lapse into 6/8, although at times indistinct. I think anything in 5/8 is making a point and should be consistent. This was its first public outing and I think I need a few listens to decide on this one, but I’m expecting it to grow on me as the performance gets more confident. Her second is ‘The Ba Ba Song’ which is more challenging lyrically but musically simple , this one gets the audience singing along.
She is joined for ‘I am Everybody Else’ by John Farrell, who always adds a touch of class with his exceptional playing. The introduction reminds me of ‘Drowning Man’ by The Cure. It is rhythmically driving and gradually builds , yeah, go ahead, scream- I think the speakers can take it. This is a woman in full flow, frenetic and forceful.

Nyk Stoddart

Some say the next performer has shaved off his hair and the straggles that emerge around his shoulders are in fact hair extensions attached to his pork pie hat. All we know is he’s called Stigg Stoddart, sorry make that Nyk Stoddart.

‘Misty Blue’ should really be listened to through the prism of a drug-induced haze. Unfortunately I’m sober as a judge. It is all swirling strumming and wandering chords, eventually it sort of stops rather than finishes. It is curiously evocative and effective. Next up is ‘Closer to Your Own!’ Lyrically I think this is about an act giving the performer pleasure whilst giving none to anyone else, at certain points, it could stand for the song as well [to illustrate the point?]! Still it was good to hear some new material.

Chris Kaufmann

Chris boasts a short back ‘n’ sides: ‘a proper haircut’ as my ageing father would say.

Come now, not the ‘I don’t have any names for my songs’ argument again. Go on, treat your audience with some respect , we’ve come here to listen to you and to be entertained, please think about us! Rant over.

His first song, which I will call ‘I Wanna Feel Your Body’ was somewhat marred by his nerves , starting three times and eventually giving up as he forgot the words. A pity, because what we did hear was actually rather good. The best cure for nerves is to just keep coming, you’ll definitely find a receptive audience here, but with the romantic material best bring some girl friends along. His second which I shall call ‘Before She Leaves’
also showed a lot of promise. For me, the guitar was too aggressive for the song and improved markedly when you got quieter towards the end.

Hmm, if one song is a squashee, what is two songs , a squishy perhaps?

Calum Carlyle

Calum has a tidy greased back affair with a hint of spikiness.

‘Usually I know what I’m going to sing’. Is this the theme of the night?
Aaargh. Honestly we didn’t need to hear that. Just pretend that it’s all planned and intended. We’ll thank you for it.

His first is a blues number, ‘I Belive In Rock and Roll’. OK, the title sounds a little cheesy, but Calum can really do blues. The second is a song about coleslaw , that’s right, no mis-print! The guitar work betrays Calum’s forays into mandolin playing with melody picked on the lower notes with lots of open strings above. I’m almost tempted to go to Thurso to sample the vegetarian delights “made by angels”.
His last is ‘The Sound Of Falling In Love At First Sight’ with a Jose Gonzalez-style guitar. If you must do drop-tuned guitar, you must do it like this. A real gem. Calum is quite the musical chameleon, three songs in three very different styles lyrically, musically, and vocally, but always managing to sound original and authentic.

Ben Young

Ben has lost the shaved extravagance of a political protester and since growing his curls looks more like Frodo than ever.

He performs a squashee of a new song to me , ‘Battle of the Bands’ written after his little brother didn’t win such a contest and ‘It was wrong!’ Ah, heaven. I love this stuff. Ben always manages to write songs about subjects ignored by others, quirky, original and brilliant as always.

Daniel Vzeu

Daniel sports a trendy messed up affair, bound to attract the girls , if only there were any in the audience.

Another squishee! first up, ‘The Girl And The Biscuit’. Crumbs! Daniel has an inexhaustable supply of songs about relationships. I’m not sure if I’m more concerned about the number of break-ups or about love songs involving
17 year-olds, or perhaps I’m just jealous. It has a tender, rocking accompaniment. The second is ‘Human After All’ which is back to his scat singing ‘diddly oop da dow’. He says it’s not finished and that half the words were made up. Presumably when it is finished all the words will be made up, if you get my drift. Quality as usual.

Electric White Boy

The acoustic white boy has had a trim, loosing his Neil from the Young Ones style, now adopting thoroughly sophisticated flowing locks which, only lacking for some flouncy attire, make him look extremely like Oscar Wilde.

‘Hold Fast’ sounds somewhat Led Zeppelin to me both guitar-wise and vocally. It’s a good impression, but I feel like I’m hearing an impersonation. ‘What’s A Boy Gotta Do’ is a blues number but starts with what I can only call a recitative. It has slightly odd chords , not sure the E works in the key. It also sounds like a cover. I’m impatient – you have all the chops and a good vocal range but I feel that we’re yet to hear your true voice.

Nick Smith

Nick is our compere for the night and thus beyond reproach.

‘Do You Want A Piece Of Me?’ witty and acid lyrics delivered flawlessly.
As our MC, he allows himself the indulgence of a cover ‘Jealous Man’ by Hoyt Axton.

Ton

A neat crop.

Ton(e?) delivers picking loveliness admired by all. With somewhat angrier lyrics than accompaniment, I thought it could do with a little more grit or growl vocally. The second song features even faster finger-picking- many oohs and ahs from the appreciative audience. Ton is a very good player needing just a bit more confidence performance-wise.

Jim Tudor

Jim has a hairstyle that last saw favour when white suits and platforms were de rigueur… yes, tonight he has the full Leo Sayer.

I’ve not seen Jim before, but I can only describe the sound as Billy Brag does love songs. ‘When the sun runs out of time we’ve got 8 minutes to flee’ makes you think. ‘The Doctor’ is a diatribe against doctors and plastic surgeons; mind you my neighbour thought the first verse was about a dodgy gynaecologist. In fact it was about a dentist, just shows how wrong you can be.

Ross Neilson

Ross Neilson was topped with a woolly hat.

He starts with ‘Summer Wave’, ‘cos it’s cold outside. He has a big guitar , some kind of Gibson dreadnaught by the looks of it, and his playing is rich and resonant. The second is ‘Shadow When Night Falls’ a good one that really suits his playing and vocal delivery. The third is harder and political. A well-rounded set from Ross who is also growing in confidence and stature week by week. One to watch.

Stephen Harrison

Stephen is a new performer to me, but he has the air of someone who has been doing this for a long time. The first is ‘Girl Come Home’. Oddly, he plays an electric DI’d but it works well with the material, his voice deep over the jangling chords. ‘Tomorrow’ has interesting voicings with lots of open strings, and the third ‘Who are they?’ has rhythmic strummings and again interesting chords. It’s as if he ignores standard chords, but always experiments on the neck to find some sonority with which he’s happy. It’s also obvious that he knows his way around a fretboard by the absolutely minimal movement between chords. Good songsmith too, by the way.

Nick Smith

Back for seconds, Nick treats us to ‘Deepest Blue’. It’s the sort of song that makes Graeme Mearns sound like an optimist!

Compere: Nick Smith
Sound: David O’Hara & Jim Whyte
Review: Daniel Davis

Out of the Bedroom 277- 15th November, 2007

Last week was full of originals- here’s what happened.

OOTB 277
=========
Nyk Stoddart, Rosie Bell, Freeloading Frank, Hannah O’Reilly, Simon Kempston & Rosie Hunter (featured), Angus Coull, Chris Mossop, David O’Hara, Steven Carey, P Gondu.

A dog is not a dog. A house is not a house. After Calum Duchamp raised the Dada bar in this missive last week, there was a feeling (Electric White Boy, and your Gonzo journalism, this means you!) that perhaps we could start a new period of Post-Surrealism, recalling the styles embraced by John Magritte in his legendary “white jaguar” reviews, which were reined in by Norman Rosenberg, who questioned where this particular art form was headed. I toyed with this idea- making the review utterly abstruse and intractable, but opted against it (although you may disagree!), because Calum accepts no imitations. At times, the review may err towards surreal, not by design, but because the music itself was, on occasion, quite far out there…

Take for example, Mr Nyk Stoddart, a man whose very name prompts
questions- “Y?” indeed. I spoke to Nyk briefly after his set, and he claims that he gives his songs names like Skeletor Man because he’s challenging the standard aesthetic: “It’s the punk in me!” he said. “But you’re blatantly a hippy,” was my response. “That’s because I’m anti-anti-establishment”. Touche. After a long conversation about the Masters of the Universe toys and a quick look at his music (Fake Jazz was a wonderful re-reading of  Hendrix’s Woodstock performance, with acerbic quips against fretboard strainers; Skeletor Man featured a bunch of his inimitible vocal athletics), we decided that Nyk was a fine exponent of Post-Mortemism; expect a song by this title to exist by the time you read this. Our compere, Rob Sproul-Cran, referred to Nyk’s performance as
“sublime”- and I suppose if you take Kant’s definition- beauty contained in a boundless object- then I’m sure everyone would concur.

Next up was Rosie Bell, who clearly engineered a slot after Nyk to assert her “mainstream” side. If  Nyk’s a punk, then Rosie is decidedly New Wave- giving us the kind of keyboard noises Gary Numan used to batter out in the early 1980s, but with far pithier lyrics. Indeed, if Rosie’s friends are electric, it might explain the “screams and shouts from the girls allowed(/loud?)”, shocked and soaked from playing their part in the City Of Alcohol. She follows it up with a cautionary tale (which I’ve only heard her read before)- Don’t Sh*g The Man On Lead Guitar. Likes a list song does Rosie, and she rattles off all the instrument-players it’s ok to get involved with (“baby wipes to the man on pipes????”), before ravaging the egos of guitarists everywhere. She finishes her three songs with her current favourite, the sparse Dead Cool, Dead Hard number, which praises loads of pre-, mid- and post- punks, giving special props to a certain Lou Reed.

Freeloadin' Frank 18 December 2003

Rosie actually stayed up to duet with another underground legend, Freeloading Frank Titterton. I’m not sure if F n’ C was written collaboratively, but it was memorably performed so. It’s hard to tell:
“Edinburgh Fringe/ awash with c*nt and m*nge”, seemed pure Frank, but “If you get a shock/when you see a c*ck/you are simply showing off your age”- that rings Bell. Totally X-rated, and unreviewable without the aid of a shift key; marvellous. Rosie then left Frank to play (unquestionably) two of his own classics, I Wanna Be A Guru, which nicely lampoons the likes of George Harrison’s Maharishi pal (“transfer money from you to me”), and the classic Scully (“don’t believe in ghosts or satanic toast”). John Barclay mentioned a similarity between Frank and WC Fields, who used words because he liked the feel of them- true, but I think Frank quite enjoys the meanings imbued as well….

To complete a first period of true originals, Hannah O’Reilly was next to the stage. She’s back in Edinburgh for the foreseeable, and has been writing new songs to boot. Nothing I’d heard before in her set: Foolish, Faith and Dimes. Foolish- which reminded me a lot of the angsty ambience of one of her older favourites, Strange Friend- was about being a fool for someone, but not letting them break your heart, and left me wondering if this was about the city she can’t give up. Faith, written and delivered with the flu, fell into Hannah’s other camp, the laid back side; loved the wee play on words, “Faith- I’ve never been there/ Faith- the final frontier”. Hannah closed with Dimes, a song she says she loves performing because she gets to say the word “m*therf*cker” in it- what’s with all the profanity tonight??! A nice rebuff to anyone that tries to buy her affection, she doesn’t want your “business, nickels, dimes”. Not one to take busking on the streets of New York then! She’s still churning out the hits though, which is great to see.

If we’d seen bits of Surrealism, and distinct Abstract Expressionism in the course of tonight’s set, we were taken back to The Scottish Enlightenment by tonight’s featured act, Simon Kempston & Rosie Hunter. We don’t see as much of Simon round here as we used to, but there’s no doubt he’s been busy working on new material; the very introspective style (though never ‘shy’ as such) has become a lot more direct, and while it’s more Donovan-tinged folk than jazz these days, it’s still highly suited to the late-night barroom ambience. This highly structured set tackled a diverse range of subjects, from James IV’s raising of the royal fleet at Newhaven (Ladies’ Lookout), through the port of Rosyth (To See The Lights)  to the freeing of the Baltic States (a recent holiday destination) (We Formed A Barricade). The tunes are strong and distinctive- see the Bert Jansch-like Carefree Prisoner- and the lyrics are highly thought-provoking (his musing on Scotland’s sectarian struggle is detached, and
non-judgemental- “do they march in war, or do they march in peace?”, “Christian sentiment feeds this angry crowd”). Simon was backed by Rosie, a classical violin player making a foray into folk with Simon (and his band, The Statements), and her wistful counter-melodies supported the songs nicely, giving a whole new level of atmosphere to them. Highly engaging set, and nice to see the room good and busy while it was on!

Keyboard wizard Angus Coull has been along a few times recently, and I felt that tonight was the best I’d seen him. He started with Nothing Is Going My Way- which starts off in Beethoven territory and moves effortlessly into New Order, presumably picking up Kratfwerk and Joy Division on the way, in senitment and sound. This was well backed up in the second number, which was very bleak: “she was your mistress/ you always knew and so did your wife/ where is she now/ under the raging sea”- Ian Curtis would have no qualms whatsoever about performing lyrics such as these. Angus maintained the bleak, visceral lyrics in the closing number, which featured such lines as “I’m tired and I’m lonely, my life is over, it was killed by you only”, although in this case, the upbeat, jaunty nature of the tune, with nice little flourishes, belies the feeling. Deep, dark, and engaging stuff.

Poor Chris Mossop bewailed the number of times he’s been reviewed as a debutant at OOTB- I can only assume this is because his appearances are well-spaced in frequency, and there are a lot of reviewers doing the job, as this is the fifth or sixth time I’ve seen him. Chris has a deep, soulful voice, which is similar to (though not necessarily influenced by) the likes of Billy Joe Armstrong or John Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls, and his songs tonight would fit in quite well across the pond. It’s all very listenable, generally up-tempo stuff- even when (in the case of the first song, about the Iraq war), the subject is quite bleak. The last two numbers dealt with relationships (“I can’t believe I’ve met someone like you”, “I don’t want to be second best”), and while the subject matter may be a well-trodden path, Chris kept the attention of the audience with a nice range of movement on the guitar.

Another terrific artist whose profile suffers a bit  because he appears at the Canons Gait once every six months is Andy Northall. Andy’s got a real knack for shutting the room up with expert guitar picking, and this was brilliantly in evidence tonight with a quality instrumental squashee that put me in mind of Dick Gaughan. We need to see a longer set from Andy, and I don’t just mean three songs!

Tonight’s raffle win went to Nicole, who picked up a box of revels. Let’s hope she had fun looking for the orange one.

You know when David O’Hara means business. That’s when he turns up with nylon six-string, not saying things like “the calluses in my fingers are a bit  shallow just now”. Dave was straight to work doing a bizarre Christine Keeler impersonation with a chair before propping his foot on it in true John Williams style. Tonight’s numbers justified the special effort- he opened with Let’s See How It Goes Op.34, “The Only Joking, I Know Exactly What I’m Doing Waltz”, a bleak, brooding number, fresh out of an Eastern European romance soundtrack. Arabian Nights has become Dave’s most lauded piece, it’s his own equivalent of Tom Waits’ Tango Till They’re Sore; not a note out of place, and Big Jim added a power of atmosphere from the mixing desk. Dave ended with a Cossack-esque number- if this was in support of the Russian football team’s efforts on Saturday, though, we now know it was in vain…

Simon Kempston’s partner in Southbound Sessions, Steven Carey, was along tonight, and it was good to see a hat-trick of new songs from him. Steven’s an expert at combining fairly simple melodies with confessional lyrics and an absolutely soaring vocal, so while the songs tonight didn’t represent a huge departure from his usual fare, they couldn’t have been the work of anybody else. No idea what the titles were (I’ll take a stab at You Couldn’t Be Any Easier To Like, Great White Shark and Leave This Party), but they engaged in areas of relationships, the state of the world (“the news is twice as vulgar as p*rn”), and, inkeeping with tonight’s seedy tour of the gutter, reasons for going to a party, “to be a total *rse” and pick someone up, because “I’m not in the mood to be a gentleman”.

Finally, to take us back into unusual, Syd Barrett territory was someone we hadn’t seen in ages: P Gondu. P used to play here under the Tom Waits-inspired moniker of Eyeball Kid, and it’s always great to see someone we thought we’d lost come back to the fold. Three songs tonight, Don’t Share Your Doubt, Wait A While and a cover of the Lemonheads’ Into Your Arms (hell, it was the last song of the night, we were hardly gonna stop him!). Mr Gondu would be the first to agree his delivery is unconventional- heading down post-Psychedelic Jennifer Gentle territory, but the songs themselves aren’t so unconventional: Don’t Share Your Doubt was a Johnny Cash-style tune, with a couple of really emotive minors, and Wait A While was similarly countrified, especially in lyrics which complained of “just another broken heart”. Good to get the crowd joining in on the Dando number at the end, and nice to see the one-time Eyeball Kid still doing his stuff.

Compere: Rob Sproul-Cran
Sound: David O’Hara and James Whyte
Review: Scott Renton
Raffle: John Barclay

Chris Brown, Jill Hepburn, Airfix, Emily Scott, Davy Watson, Danny Gyle, Cosmic Stu

SURVIVING the threat of a life-time ban from The Waverley intrepid reporter Jill Hepburn (that’s me) got on with the job of upholding the values of a free press to bring to you, the people, news of exactly what is going on behind the edge of the wee red square.

First to bravely venture into dingy red carpet territory was Regimental Sergeant Major Chris Brown, who had thoroughly inspected the line-up beforehand and assured us that, to a man, they were all up to the job.

Presenting a trio of songs (Juniper Green, Dragon and Shop) which were all new to me, he displayed his talent for mixing social observation with catchy/infectious melody. Although he often chooses quite serious! subjects he avoids sounding overly earnest, managing to hook the listener into his viewpoint. His stuff is always tight, to the point, and perfectly melodic – a great song craftsman with a great sense of discipline – and that can save lives out here.

Next your correspondent went over the line, to find out, first hand, just what is like in that murky territory. It was hell in there, but thankfully, Sgt Brown had these words of encouragement which I managed to decipher from a code he had managed to transmit.

Why Stop At The Moon
Jill starts by taking us into the solar system, taking a trip past stars and planets. Great lyrics in this song set to a fab dream-like tune, beckoning us to dream again.
The Silver Casket
This song had some great story-telling, a more melancholic tune and certainly one to draw us in.
Groovy Enough For Two
Changing gears int the groovy tune which is Jill’s best know song, it’s a great one to sing, or even whistle, along to, really catchy with loads of hooks.

AIRFIX were next to move into the zone and the trio worked well as a team, of course out here your survival depends on it. They always have just the right degree of poppiness, and their first song Just For Me had the great line: “I know the day you’ve had and I know your heels hurt bad.” A sign perhaps that despite the current conflict these very important women’s’ issues haven’t been forgotten. Great vocal harmonies too which are always used sparingly but effectively. In fact everything is very understated and cool about AIRFIX, and there’s a touch of Aztec Camera/Prefab Sprout about them. And that can’t be bad. Keep up to date with their operations at www.air-fix.co.uk

Next I was very nearly blown away (though, for the second time in my ill-fated quest for the truth I managed to avoid serious wounding) by Captain Emily who led the naval contribution to the maneuver – although she insisted: “This is not a sea shanty.” No doubt her reticence was a move to protect national intelligence. Loose lips sink ships after all. I’d only seen Emily perform once before and once again I was struck, not just by her classy voice and sharp lyrics, but her very arresting delivery. She is so matter of fact I don’t think I’ve seen anyone who puts across a song in quite the same way. An outstanding performance and I was green with envy – especially when, chatting to her later, she told me she’d only been writing for about a year.

Well, there was tension in the air and the troops who had thus far been kept away from the action were eager to get out there and do battle. It was at this point that young maverick Davy Watson was called to the front line and arrived promising “a bit of improvisation.” Always a bit if a risk in these kinds of situations but, lucky for him, his opportunism paid off. Starting off by putting a new spin on one of his 12-year-old songs, Davy gave a very animated performance, and both his singing and guitar style were loud, passionate and solid. There was more intensity with My Heart Is Burning and the third was a “work in progress”, a brilliant, innovative and thought-provoking number which asserts that “hell is in your head,” but works itself to a great, and much more uplifting resolution.

The mood among the men was high, so thank God the morale-boosting visit from Geri Halliwell was cancelled and the order came that it was time for Lieutenant Danny Gyle to advance.  Danny launched a furious attack on the guitar creating what I can only describe as a weird and fascinating sort of tumbling noise. He certainly has a style all of his own and the song was very suitably called Different Dimensions. I’d wondered why he was changing from his boots into sandals beforehand – a tactic to divert the enemy perhaps? But then it all became clear when he carefully placed an egg shaker between his toes. I kid you not. His next one Whiskey Blues was a great feel good number. “I drink tequila, vodka and gin, I drink just about any damn thing.”  But of course it’s always the whiskey that gets him. In Rhythms of The World I was amazed to see Danny plucking with his left, or fretting hand, while keeping a steady strum with his right. A mesmerizing number greeted with howls of appreciation.

Victory was in sight as Cosmic Stu went beyond the call of duty to bring us a clutch of rather hippy dippy songs (though in a good way) reminding me a wee bit of Cat Stevens. My Morning Rainbow had a simple feel which created a nice warm atmosphere. “Per chance I could fly into the rainbow,” and “With the wind at my back spiriting me,” were just two of the dreamy lines which gave me a lift. The Holly Tree had some great lyrics and Stu certainly has a great gift for storytelling, reminding us that a lot of the “hassles” of modern life are pretty irrelevant and that it’s the simple things that matter.

It seemed that peace was within reach when frustratingly the call came to tell me I was being taken off the job. So, robbed of my moment of glory, I handed on reporting duties and wondered what hell lay in store for me next.