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ALAN CLAYSON On a freezing Wednesday night writes |
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This is also a chance to catch up with BM! writer Brian Hinton who is sitting in tonight on keyboard, tempted out of the Isle Of White to play this gig; the rest of Alan Clayson's band tonight comprises the charming Ms Fran Wood who sings with her own group Vamp and has her roots in the likes of the Velvelettes, Bonnie Rait, and Little Feat AND (wait for it) guitar demon Dick Taylor, early Stone, and ongoing Pretty Thing and originator of many classic six string arrangements and stinging solos. Tonight he plays a strange black Tele hybrid and despite a somewhat frail presence his playing brings a definition and attack that few players could attempt. The Club is in an upstairs room above the Cabbage Patch and draws a laid back and trendy crowd. In future weeks the acts will include Alan Glen's Barcodes, Tom Nolan's Bluescasters, and original Kink Mick Avery. Tonight however we shall not be hearing anything approaching a "conventional" set. Oh no! when the Band takes the small stage they resemble nothing as much as a clique of disgruntled senior teachers bent on the overthrow of the School Governors, in some unreleased Lindsey Anderson film. They commence a set that at times becomes a journey through the murkier silt of the music business in a glass-bottomed boat, their leader warning us that a descent into chaos is on the cards (he is not wrong) and that "Route 66" and the like will not be featured. |
| What we get is Alan Claysons observations on the rock'n' roll lifestyle and other cosmic matters, he taking the role of narrator, sort of playing a battered and iffily-tuned 12-string and also a rickety keyboard, Clayson launches into a song called "Rebel Rocker" starting "Back in the forest primeval" and touching on biker chick and past lust, the ensemble putting out a bizarre mix of sterling playing and more ramshackle passages. Clayson will throw back his head and wail to the gods, emphasising his vague resemblance to film madcap Ken Russell; he will berate the audience for joining in when he has just been speaking of crowd responses, conceding that they might prefer to mutter along rather than sing; he leaves the stand at one point to get a capo from the dressing room (now does Paul Simon ever do THAT?) presaging utter disaster in the next few bars if he does not; he will encourage band members soloing not with the standard "Hit it, boy" but rather exclaim "Ah..yes..that's.. quite good...really! so.- er..carry on, yes." |
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in a hesitant abstract manner (he does this to Brian during a stellar piano flurry); he has a Viking fixation (perhaps early exposure to Noggin The Nog on TV left its mark. Which colours many of his lyrics; and in other ways he is a little eccentric. Take "Man Of The Moment" a song about fleeting fame with a tale of how well it was received at the Aldershot Abattoir Social Club. Lets see Manilow write a Paean to THAT venue!.. Other stories concern Mods and Rockers , Life and Death ("On The Waterfront") and trash SF novels - inspiring "Sole Nova" that is undoubtedly a psychedelic er...it's psychedelic, anyway. Atonal sounds, and an off kilter rhythm box colour a tale of escape from a doomed planet. Priceless. Elsewhere he manages to revive Pretties gem of yore "Honey I Need" and also crucify old stage warhorse "On The Street Where You live". (she'd moved!) There is a tribute to old friend Lord Sutchand surrealistic sultan John Otway - but in many ways I found this show much weirder. I wonder whether Clayson realises how off-the-wall he is, for a start ? If you were casting Nero fiddling away while Rome burned then Clayson has to be your man. I've not seen many performers stop midsong to point out how crap that numbers was supposed to be - but the sooner Suede take this up the better. |
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Perhaps Alan is starting the Utter Honesty In Music Movement...nonetheless the other players held in there so well done to them and whatever the musical merits or otherwise of Clayton's material, you just couldn't take your eyes off the stage. Though sometimes you watched between the cracks in your fingers...They return for "Midnight To Six Man" which lurches off into an approximation of "Gloria" wherein the lady happens to be out, rendering Claysons knockin' at her door as a mere annoyance to neighbours! A typical twist in a twisted evening ...reported by our very own Pete Sargeant who is now gladly undergoing treatment after covering this 'event' reproduced from "BLUES MATTERS " No 4 March-June 2001
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