After watching Gandalf Murphy and The Slambovian Circus of Dreams my intention was to write a harsh review for what was a fairly average band's performance at a distinctively average show. However, a week has passed since their Camden gig and my opinion has changed, to some extent, because I can't stop listening to two of their songs: 'Tink (I know It's You)' and 'Picture'.
That said, two songs don’t make a band and only my conscience stops me from dismissing Gandalf Murphy outright. I’m tempted to tell you not to bother listening to them or going to their next gig but only recently I found myself in a similar situation when a friend incorrectly claimed that 'Lump' and 'Peaches' were The Presidents of the United States of America's only good songs. But I am wiser than he for I have the gift of experience on my hands and I know that The Presidents' songs are like a fine wine. I fear Gandalf Murphy do not come under this category, but, not being a Gandalf Murphy album-owner I won't make such a claim. I will, however, tell you about a gig which I can honestly say was simply not that good.
Dingwalls isn't the best venue in the world (or Camden) but I'm not making any excuses for Gandalf; there was no magic, the gig came and went and I haven't really thought about it since. A note to Dingwalls though - having a television showing Sky Sports in the corner of a gig can be a little distracting and doesn't help any show.
I get the impression that The Slambovian Circus have a loyal following; a couple of hundred people from all over the country who were prepared to make the trip to see a band that they tell their friends is the best around because of some nostalgic memory of a small stage gig at Reading Festival in the late 90’s. In reality, however, they have the feel of a Cornwall-based covers act who have been doing the same local circuit for the past thirty years.
The opening line to the gig was from the second song on their 2003 album Flapjacks in the Sky, entitled 'Sunday in the Rain'; "I woke up today/ Like yesterday/ I went out to score some anti-pain." My heart sank as it soon dawned on me that I was in for a night of simple songs - and not the good kind where clever lyrics are woven around a simple chord pattern.
What followed was a series of dull songs, full of lines that are trying to be clever which mean nothing woven around other lines which are trying to be clever which mean less. "We went out on the road today/ And the sky was full of tears/ And each small town looked so blue" from 'Talkin' to the Buddha' and "I wrote this song for you tonight/ To let you know I love your light" from their 'slow number' 'Baby Jane' being but a few examples.
In fact I counted no fewer than 50 uses of the word 'light' amongst the lyrics from their three albums which, amongst such heart-string- tug -attempting nouns likE 'fire', 'road', 'soul' and 'sky', go to show quite how boring the lyrics are. There is such a lack of originality it offends me that they would charge a £15.50 entrance fee; Gandalf Murphy are merely a group of people who are fairly proficient on their instruments who have written a high proportion of remarkably dreary songs.
Some pre-show research made me particularly enthusiastic about attending the gig when I read their influences include the likes of Pink Floyd and Dylan and one of their most celebrated covers and one they regularly play on tour is 'Gates of Eden'. In lead singer Joziah Longo's defence I never expected his lyrics to compare to "Of war and peace the truth just twists/ Its curfew gull just glides" but Donovan writes better and more sensible lyrics than those in 'Flapjacks in the Sky', the fifth song on the set list which began "Look in the sky, over there, see that light? Oh it's gone/ No over there. Look it's moving our way. Oh it's gone."
The slightly skeletal figure of Tinkerberll Lloyd, the one you would assume to be the inspiration behind 'Tink (I know it's You)', introduced 'Flapjacks in the Sky' by talking about the rise in UFO sightings over the past few months and putting it down to the current economic climate. She wore a fingerless glove on one hand – you do the math.
In their defence, guitarist Sharkey McEwen played slide guitar as competently as I have seen in a number of years. His vibrant and diverse lead work backed up by some surprisingly heavy drumming from Tony Zuzulo made the gig enjoyable to a degree. I have no qualms with lead singer’s son Orien Longo who played bass and keys, he stood at the back and did his job, albeit with the demeanour of someone who has played one too many family band shows.
I guess what I’m saying then is that my main problem - other than the lack of originality, imagination and the string of supposed metaphoric but ultimately meaningless lyrics - lay with multi instrumentalist Tink Lloyd’s quite frankly embarrassing mid-song bante,r and her partner Joziah Longo.
I’m not sure what annoyed me more: the fact that the majority of the leather sporting audience found Lloyd hilarious, or Longo’s voice. To be fair to him he kept rhythm on his guitar and I’ve heard worse jaw harp but he sings in that forced New York accent with a Southern twang that Ricky Gervais mocks so perfectly in David Brent’s classic 'Freelove Freeway'. He chats to the audience in a voice I’m certain he is forcing to be deeper than his own, elongating syllables at the end of his sentences and telling stories of how a version of 'Baby Jane' once made two girls in the front row cry.
I like my artists to be either humble or mysterious; Longo tried to be both but came off sounding neither. It’s all very well creating a band with a wacky title based on a fictitious country and writing albums about oat-based products defying the laws of gravity, but if the songs don’t back it up it’s not good enough for me. I won’t be seeing them again.
Posted In Live Reviews, Feb 11 2010.
Words - Lewis Dalgliesh