The gig started with a man with a mandolin chapel arts centre bath (sad to say that I didn’t manage to catch his name at any point) being urged briefly on stage by the main acts to sing a version of Summertime Blues that dealt mainly with the effectiveness of Irn Bru as a hangover cure.
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It was fun and short, and enjoyable (even for someone like me who can find something to be annoyed at in even the most blameless comic song). We chatted with him for a while at the end of the evening and we were both surprised that hardly anyone in the crowd seemed to know that hangovers are what Irn Bru is FOR For more informative blogs visit Ideal Writer.
Ian King himself was brilliant, but I’m going, to be honest, I remember almost nothing of his act that night. He looked like a character from The Jetsons, spoke timidly, blew me away with his set, and then me being me I promptly managed to forget pretty much everything about it chapel arts centre bath. Thankfully me being me also means that I went home and immediately bought his entire back catalog. So I shall try and build something approaching a review upon a couple of songs from that instead.
Death and the Lady is a song about which I am fucking MENTAL, it’s the only thing that I remember him playing on the night and the studio version of Panic Grass & Fever Few more than lived up to the memory of his performance.
As I’ve already admitted I’ve not found many versions of this song that I’ve ever disliked, but King loads his with an unexpected dose of something approaching old-style funk, heating things up while keeping them just on the edge of straying into Ska and keeping a very old, very traditional sound as the foundation to it chapel arts centre bath
Imagine the Watersons. Now imagine the Quentin Tarantino film, Jackie Brown. Now imagine the Watersons in the Quentin Tarantino film Jackie Brown. Got that in your head? Right, well it was nothing like that, but by god, that paragraph filled some space in this review.
A friend of mine with a habit of doing such things has taken to – semi-jokingly – holding up King’s day job as a drystone waller as proof of his ‘authenticity’ chapel arts centre bath. Not being a character from an Eleanor Bron sketch I don’t tend to worry about such things myself, but it is true that part of what I love about him is that his music seems so organic.
There’s Northern Soul in there, there’s Punk, there’s Baggy, there’s Salsa, and none of it is forced. None of it gives the impression of anything other than a man naturally encountering music, liking it, and being shaped by it.
By George, one of only a couple of songs on Panic Grass & Fever Few written by King somehow manages to sum up the whole strange business of masculinity and national identity once and for all while only having about five lines of lyrics. chapel arts centre bath
aIt doesn’t sound like the thought of the Watersons being hired by any kind of modern American filmmaker, it sounds like the voice of someone who is a bit tired, a bit annoyed, and generally accepting of the fact that these things are somewhat more complicated than we’d like and it contrasts sharply with the lengthier, self-pitying, tracks on the topic made famous by bigger name bands.
