Damon Gough's homecoming amidst the non-smoking cavernous chintz of Chestergate's Plaza cinema saw usherettes shine torches down the aisles and hordes clamour around the upstairs bar on this Friday night, filled with a sense of occasion. The all-seater venue saw the sparse turnout in the stalls bolstered by an expectant crowd growing close to the merchandise stalls at
the rear of the theatre, preferring to stand rather than settle as the evening commenced.
On walked a distinctly uncomfortable looking MALCOLM MIDDLETON who peered briefly into the black abyss before averting his gaze self-consciously to one side. Accompanied by just his drummer, who looked on from stage left as the former ARAB STRAP troubador murmured a shy introduction and his set was underway.
Delicate, mournful, and all the more exposed for its acoustic delivery, Middleton opened delicately with a sweeping energy rush hidden beneath a sinking agoraphobic rut. Following this with the manic carved grin of 'We're All Gonna Die', it's clear that the songs from his latest long-player are all the more striking for the huge space they are filling.
Like we're all waiting for a pin to drop.Or he's waiting for the stage to open up and swallow him, but he knows it's not gonna happen, and thus, this melancholy set gathered strange momentum.
With both the man and his work not just exposed but almost pushed to the forefront, the fragile delicacy of each number was counted in off the back of an impressive combination of open-handed rhythm playing and fingerpicked intricacy. The more he tried to make himself look invisible, the more this melancholy ride through the realms of exhausted narcosis revealed gems.
'Fuck It, I Love You' hazed into apathetic view from somewhere down a motionless tunnel, and the captive audience hung off every word as the showcase continued: "I only get to say this about once every three years, but my new album's out on Monday" he grinned before proceeding with an absorbing run-through of the title track of 'A Brighter Beat'.
'Your Songs Are Shite' revealed an easy affinity with the audience, who met his self-depreceating mid song banter with warm laughter, just before angel visitations and arpeggio-driven beauty mesmerised them.
'Break My Heart' was a shimmering highlight, and the finale of a very fragile set that shone with raw and soulful hope, managing a smile in the face of darkness that continues to feed the bitterseet muse.In the dressing room after the set, an understandably drained looking Malcolm muses on his return from the continent, having made some promotional appearances, first in Amsterdam, and then France. His diary is looking chocker for the forseeable future, and the prospect is slightly alarming:
"Aye. I did a few showcases, gigs, interviews, sessions and stuff" he explains
I ask about the whole process of writing songs, recording, performing, going on tour. I wonder if it's a form of therapy, or a way of combatting depression.
"I don't really find playing live to be therapeutic, I think I find it a struggle" admits Malcolm. "But obviously writing songs and stuff. I enjoy that. Writing shit lyrics in a notepad, and then making pop songs out of it. "Not pop songs" he adds,
"but whatever I do".
"Pop's a good medium though, for conveying just about everything", I offer.
"Aye. Though there are a lot of people making depressed, melancholy music, too much. Pop is like putting on a mask, with the upbeat music covering up the lyrics, they're kind of more in-depth".
Middleton's description of the new songs reflects a deeply self-critical side to him:
"The idea (with 'A Brighter Beat') was to make a kind of dark pop record. I got that some of the time, but it kinda varies with some songs, some of them are too sad, and some are too light. 'We're All Gonna Die' is like some funny pop song".
My question about the collaborators on the new record reveals that it's business as usual behind the scenes:
"Generally they're the same as on my last album - Jenny Reeve, Barry Burns, Paul Savage on drums. Arab Strap essentially - everyone except Aidan. They're a great band."
Thoughts turn to the official launch for 'A Brighter Beat'.
"It's in Glasgow, at a club called Mono. It's a wee bar with a record shop at the back. Stephen Pastel runs it. Album launch is a funny day, I mean what do you actually do? Turn up and have a beer. You wake up on the Monday, go to the mat behind the door, and nobody's sent you a card or nothing" he jokes.
"First album was just me, and then people were saying 'you should get a band'. So for the second album I got a band, and people said that they preferred the acoustic stuff".
"I've been too busy to think", he admits - with a little shudder at the prospect of the coming workload:
"Next week I've got instores. I've got two instores every day. On Monday it's Aberdeen and Dundee. This goes on for two weeks, and there's this tour to finish. Then I've got two weeks to rehearse the new songs with a five-piece band, who've never played them before".
"I'm actually looking forward to it, as with a band I'll be a bit less self-conscious, y'know".
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Is touring a constant feature of the immediate future?
Very much. I've got a UK tour, and a European tour." he muses: "Festivals in the summer. Sometimes it's good to be so busy, 'cos you don't get time to stop and think about it all"
Enter our Damon, who looked a little tense as he and his band struck up the start of the main event. This was perhaps increased by the seated audience, with mam and dad the guests of honour. Or even the no-smoking policy implemented throughout.
"I've waited thirty-seven years to say these three words - Good Evening Stockport" he announced, and got a virtual standing ovation for his troubles. Revealing his Stockport/Bolton connections was less than straightforward, but Dunstable, his birthplace, was slagged off mercilessly during the first half of the show, when the venomous edge was still on him.
Despite this, the tracks from the new album all hit the spot early on. 'Time Of The Times' got us up and running and, dedicated to his kids, 'From A to B' went down a treat. This was pure jangle pop in the Gough mould. Downbeat lyrics, childlike simplicity, and keyboard melodies weaving their unmistakable magic, this despite our hero's glaring dissastisfaction with
the onstage sound.
Throwing his guitar in the air and catching it one-handed drew the odd whistle of approval, but the blackness was descending fast on Gough as the band cast furtive and uneasy glances behind him. The National Anthem started and then rocked out as they hurtled through 'Born In The UK'
"I don't know about you lot, but I'm fucking struggling here" muttered the show's star as he fumbled for a Marlboro Light, and then flung it into his drink after a couple of power-drags.
It seemed to do the trick for t'lad's nerves (Twisted?). A subliminal version of 'Once Around The Block' followed the rule-breaking nicotine hit, and there was a sense of enjoyment coming from the stage for the first time since the start.
"This is a new one" explained the wooly-hatted one, before dedicating 'The Shining' to a recently deceased friend.
The barnstorming bossa-novas that upheld 'All Possibilities' rendered it the unrivalled highlight of a hit-studded setlist for me, even though it was followed up with 'The Long Way Round'. Sound crew members struggled frantically to unsnag the mic cord as Gough hopped into the aisles to sing and shake hands with his audience.
With this being a homecoming party, there were dedications galore. 'Silent Sigh' drew a few 'aaahhhhs' from the front rows, going out as it did to the two (very) little guys sitting cross-legged in the wings.
A return to the keyboard, then some ivories tinkled - and then warped like Benny Hill comic sound effects:
"I've just had me keyboard fitted with a new lever" explained Damon, getting his biggest laugh of the night, as Gough brightened the mood still further thanks to more 'gadget' tomfoolery during the chiming intro to 'Promises'.
'Tickets To What You Need' was another belter, hammered out on the keyboard's piano setting to maximum effect and appreciative applause, and 'One Last Chance' also went down a storm. The bright spirits were out again, but still more tests of patience to come.
"This is..." (the intro briefly trails off).
"....This is a guitar that's not plugged in". Laughter, and a look that said it all.
Eyes rolled, and a technician scuttled on in order to attend to the formalities. More laughter as the lad tried his level best not to look too exasperated.
Encoring first with a glowing rendition of 'Pissing In The Wind', followed by a blast of the Smiths' 'Back To The Old House' that got the assembled up on their feet almost brought the house down, before the icing on the cake. As merengue devoted pop music finales go, who could argue with the sweeping
beauty of 'Magic In The Air'? Fantastic stuff!
"You've been a great audience.I know I've had me problems up here and that, but you've been great, thank you". He got an extra cheer for that parting shot, and then he was gone.
I'll leave the final appraisal to Malcom Middleton, who turned to me just before the start of the main act, and commented that "It's a bit like being in a cinema isn't it?!".
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