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Nick Morgan and crew
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Concert
Review by Nick Morgan |
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KEVIN
AYERS The Arts Theatre,
Soho, London, October 15th 2006
By
a strangely strange coincidence there was an article
about Britain’s famous ‘Canterbury
scene’ of the late 1960s and early 1970s
in yesterday’s Guardian, accompanied by
a striking photograph of a rather androgynous-looking
Kevin
Ayers in a Paisley-patterned dressing
gown. Ayers got one mention in the piece, in the
same breath as Wilde Flowers, Soft Machine (which
he co-founded), Gong (Ayers was a member for a
year or so) and Caravan (come on, everyone remembers
In the Land of Grey and Pink). |
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| No
room here for the “along with Syd Barrett
the most important artist in the creation of the
British psychedelic movement” which you’ll
find in many books and articles, or any consideration
of his later (or even current) career. You may even
have thought, that like the recently and sadly departed
Syd, he was dead. No doubt that’s partly (mainly?)
because Ayers seems to have spent most of his career
walking away from projects just as they seemed to
be becoming successful, preferring instead (as some
suggest) a lazy and louche lifestyle in Spain and
France. |
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A
new album in the late 1980s (Falling Up), and another
in the 1992 (Still Life with a Guitar) mark about
the whole of his recent original work, although
there’s little shortage of reissued material
and newly released archive stuff from the BBC and
others. However he’s recording a new album
(Unfairground) and touring, albeit briefly. And
did you know Serge, that he was awarded the Ordre
de la Grande Gidouille by your very French Collège
de Pataphysique? |
| I
tend to buy concert tickets like others buy books,
in front of a computer, after-dinner, with a glass
in my hand and a few magazines and newspapers by
my side. It’s one of those habits that makes
life a wonderful lottery. So as we sat in the middle
of the front row of the tiny and largely empty Arts
Theatre in the centre of Soho on a Sunday evening
when I could have been at home enjoying a glass
of claret with some rare roast beef and Yorkshire
pudding, the thought “what the hell am I doing
here?” was writ largely on my mind. But we
very much enjoyed support act John
Redfern, a soulful voice, complex and accomplished
acoustic guitar and a satisfying suggestion of the
Blue Nile all means that it might be worthwhile
looking out for his forthcoming album May be Some
Time. And after his thirty minutes or so the place
did fill up with maybe 60 people or more, many of
whom looked as though they could well have been
Canterbury survivors, although I’m not sure
that could be said of the inebriate immediately
behind us with the painfully loud comedy shout (“Whey
hey hey heeeyyy”) that greeted the start and
end of every subsequent song. No, he was just a
pissed-up moron. |
| Ayers
came to the stage with accompanist Max la Villa,
a versatile guitarist who straddles both classical
and contemporary music (he’s worked with Jah
Wobble) with ease. He’s also got good eyesight,
which is pretty crucial as the stage is almost pitch
black (could it be, we wondered, that Kevin is trying
to hide the effect of time on those once beautiful
British public schoolboy features?). Hence no photographs.
Kevin can’t see the set-list, and is reluctant
to wear his spectacles (more vanity?), so it’s
Max who calls the songs. |
| And
now I’ll tell you something – almost
from the moment the first song started the clock
stopped –in fact it went backwards, and I
swear the Arts Theatre just for an hour or so was
whisked through a time-space continuum, or whatever
they’re called, to about 1970. I suppose it
could have been the pataphysics, but the principle
reason was Ayers’ voice, that rich, slightly
posh, rather diffident, somewhat regretful, somewhat
ironic and very knowing baritone. He didn’t
play the guitar too well, couldn’t remember
all the words, but he sang like, well … Kevin
Ayers, and as you should know, it’s one of
the most unique voices in contemporary music. We
got about fourteen songs (each of course accompanied
by an increasingly irritating “Whey hey hey
heeeyyy” from the moron, who hadn’t,
or so it appeared, joined the rest of us in the
time warp) starting with ‘Too old to die young’,
and including ‘Eleanor’s cake which
ate her’, ‘I don’t depend on you’,
‘Lady Rachel’ (perfect), ‘Blame
it on love’, ‘Didn’t feel lonely
‘till I thought of you’, ‘Something
in between’, ‘Whatever she brings we
sing’ and a final, brief ‘See you later’.
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| All
over in less than an hour, but perfectly charming.
And really the only conversation centred on Ayers’
increasing anxiety about the lack of alcohol in
his glass – “This is not what I call
a drink!” he complained, displaying the bottle
of water that had been brought to the stage when
he complained of thirst. “I know I really
should be talking but I really don’t have
anything to say except the songs” he told
us later, happy with a large Scotch in his hand.
And not even a goodnight, just a languid wave as
the clock rushed us back to the twenty-first century.
“Whey hey hey heeeyyy”! - Nick Morgan |
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