Recently, some Whitney Houston fans found themselves suffering from a distinct dearth of gruntle. They had paid about £100 to see their beloved diva and were complaining that Ms H was, well, rubbish. Hell hath no fury equal to a scorned pseudo-soul fan and the phone-ins, letters pages and social networking sites were deluged, these people were angry, they wanted refunds. Well, first of all, it was Whitney, what else did they expect? Secondly, (this is going somewhere, bear with me...) if gig goers feel they are entitled to their money back, then maybe artistes should be able to slap on an exit surcharge when they have given value above and beyond the call of admission fee? This night would have been a fine place to start, I’m sure no one present would have begrudged a few extra Zlotys that may have been jangling around their persons after what they had seen and heard.
Firstly, there was MIKE HERON. The epithet ‘legend’ is thrown about like so much confetti, but in the case of Mike Heron, we can apply it with justification. He was a member of The Incredible String Band, who were at the vanguard of the psychedelic folk scene in the mid-late sixties. They even made an impression on a certain Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury as the lad from Ystradgynlais chose “Hedgehog Song” from the ISB album as one of his eight on Desert Island Discs.
Heron also released a solo album, “Smiling Men With Bad Reputations” which featured such luminaries as Pete Townshend, Keith Moon, John Cale and Ronnie Lane. He doesn’t look much like a legend really, but as soon as you hear “Painting Box” there is no doubt. He is joined by his daughter Georgia Seddon and Robyn Hitchcock, who apparently used to “Levitate to this song when I was a kid, it took me forty seven years to find out it was in A not G as I was playing it!” We are also treated to “First Girl I Loved” from the aforementioned “5,000 Spirits”. Charming.
Heron allows his daughter to take centre stage halfway through the set. GEORGIA SEDDON is the latest in an encouraging line of folk progeny, joining Martha Wainwright, Eliza Carthy, Teddy Thompson, Benji Kirkpatrick and others who have made ripples in the folk pool; she shouldn’t be the lesser known of those for long.
There is now a perceived notion in some ears that the infernal over-emoted caterwaul of X Factor contestants is ‘proper’ singing (Oooh, having a pop at X Factor eh? – very dangerous!) On the other hand, Georgia Seddon has a sweet, porcelain-fragile voice that is just spellbinding, best illustrated by the crystalline song “Bird”. Perfect, if you don’t believe me listen to the songs on her My Space page.
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Robyn Hitchcock strides on with acoustic guitar and launches into “Ghost Ship” , follows it with “The Wreck of the Arthur Lee” from “Respect”, before bringing his band on, but not the Venus Three from the album, which has guests Johnny Marr, and Nick Lowe. But a fine band nonetheless . I’d been listening to “Propeller Time” a great deal in the days leading up to this gig, feeling smug in my anticipated ability to recognise the songs he would play from it. Except, Hitchcock being Hitchcock, he duly announces that he “has a new album out.... but won’t be playing anything from it!” Instead we get a tour around every nook and cranny of the Hitchcock era!
He takes us to The Soft Boys “Kingdom Of Love” from “Underwater Moonlight”, before whisking us off to “Halo Mary” and “Comme Tojours (Here I Stand)” Played with just the exquisite cello of Jenny Adejayan, from his “Phantom 45” series, the only concessions to the present that we get. He wears a black shirt with large white dots; his Fender Strat is similarly decorated. At times, he looks as if he has a fret board bursting Alien like from his chest. He remains a consummate entertainer and could no doubt perform a terrific stand up set with his surreal drollery. A theme develops as we get “Red Locust Frenzy”, “Antwoman” and the title track from “Ole Tarantula” with Heron and Seddon on backing vocals, before taking his leave with a parting shot of the title track from “Goodnight Oslo."
Eccentric, hugely likeable, enigmatic, hilarious. All of this and more. As we shuffle away, my friend comments: “It’s the closest we will ever get to seeing Syd Barrett”. He’s right, perhaps that is why he spells his name with a Y. Never thought of that before. Silly gyt.
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