Nick Morgan and crew
Review by Dave Broom
HMV Oxford Street, London, 6th September 2005
was early for the next appointment, so decided
to kill time by browsing in HMV Oxford Street.
Just browsing, mind. (Who
are you kidding? Browsing infers no intention
of buying. Your version is about resisting temptation
and only buying one cd rather than five and then
trying to convince yourself that money has been
saved because four have been put back. “Just
the one” .. It’s the same with drink.)
Anyway, I’m looking for Doctor Dog. It’s
hard to tell if there’s anything there because
a bloody mixing desk is blocking the end of the
‘D’ section. I twist into a ridiculous
shape to try and discern the presence of the Doctor.
(You call that browsing?)
mixing desk doesn’t register as I wander into
the next aisle (Just look.
What was on the list? Forget the list.)
When I turn around I’m wedged in by a crowd
of remarkably clean and glossy young people. Maybe
there was a reason for the mixing desk. Right enough,
there’s a stage, a mic and a big screen saying
Tunstall here at 1pm” Might as
well hang on. Don’t mind K.T. Scottish you
know. She’ll also stop any “just the
The last in-store performance I witnessed was Elliot
Smith (the heroin-addicted singer-songwriter) at
Amoeba Records in Haight Street, the best record
store in the world (..
well .. up there with Aquarius .. oh and Louisville’s
ear-X-tasy.. and NYCs Other Music. You’re
making another list. Stop it. How
many voices are in here?) Anyway he
was fantastic. Chatty and happy even if his songs
were of despair and heartbreak. I found myself crushed
against the C section looking into the eyes of Gene
Clark (the alcoholic singer songwriter) It seemed
too much of a coincidence. Just the one..
I wait for the same thing to happen ..
another minute then I must go ..
East of Eden
.. she must be on soon ..
Froufrou Fruit Bats
Free freak kitchen
If you’re still here you must really like
Fountains of Wayne!
and she’s on.
has a voice. A very very good voice, a natural blues
voice rather than the swallowing technique which
makes the singer sound like she’s singing
in Martian in a empty metal septic tank. Think Anastacia.
She has songs. Black Horse and the Cherry Tree is
a cracker. She’s from a folk tradition, a
blues tradition which drifts into soul. She does
Other Side of the World, Another Place to Fall (a
bit Macy Gray, which is no bad thing) and Black
Horse, stomping on pedals to create loops of claps,
backing vocals, sounds, layering the sound. I clap.
said, I have a problem with her album. It’s
overproduced, her solo-penned numbers are stronger
than the ones with joint credits. (though the little
electronic bleeps and grinds on Universe & U
takes her towards Beth Gibbons territory). You get
the feeling her personality is drowning as the buttons
of style are pressed (bit of nu-soul? tick; hint
of country? tick; straight pop? tick). She’s
on the verge of being airbrushed into acceptability
: oor wee KT from Skye.
Here, on her own, in the aisles she’s better,
more raw. This is has happened before. In the
60s and early 70s, Glasgow produced two great
r&b singers. One was Maggie Bell who formed
Stone The Crows and then .. well .. disappeared,
potential unfulfilled. The other was Lulu who
ended up a national pop treasure. I want KT to
be Maggie Bell. Jerry wexler could do wonders
with that voice. Reckon her management want her
to be Lulu.
I’m still in the F’s. I’m looking
at Lepidoptera by Fursaxa. Moths and butterflies.
Night and day. Seems to make sense. I buy it.
Just the one... - Dave Broom
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