Barry Adamson, Komedia, Brighton | reviews, news & interviews
Barry Adamson, Komedia, Brighton
Barry Adamson, Komedia, Brighton
The don of industrial easy listening fails to sweep his crowd off their feet
Barry Adamson has recently moved to Brighton and is clearly delighted with his new home town, which he refers to, shortly after starting his set, as a “dressing-up box by the sea”. Later in the evening he introduces the Hammond organ-laden “The Sun and the Sea” by telling his audience it was written about Brighton a few years ago, before he moved there, dryly informing us that he couldn’t fail to be drawn to somewhere that has “hail in the springtime and pebbles on its nudist beach”.
Adamson has cut a string of albums that range from the enjoyable to the great. After a storied career playing with Magazine, Visage, The Buzzcocks, Iggy Pop, Nick Cave and others in the 1980s, he developed into a solo act that took easy listening and John Barry-esque film soundtrack music, and filtered it through a personal vision encompassing gritty industrialism, voodoo blues and sleazy swamp-rock. It worked a treat and, on his new album Know Where To Run, it still does (as you can read in Guy Oddy’s recent review). Unfortunately, his ideas lose much of their lustre translating to a live performance in this Brighton basement.
Adamson appears in a crushed velvet purple jacket with black lapels, a black open neck shirt and shades. He certainly looks the part, and is backed by a proficient four-piece, kicking off with a couple from the new album, “Up in the Air” and “Cine City”. The latter is packed with suitable Duane Eddy twang. He is not, however, a natural singer, and, while affably chatty, lacks a thrusting stage presence. As the evening progresses, these factors, combined with a rather leaden pace underlying the music, create an unintended turgidity where there should be sonic wit and sparkle.
Things perk up from time to time, as when he growls his way through the epic “Evil Kind” or the Link Wray-does-jazz-funk attack of “Death Takes a Holiday” but there is, somehow, a lack of engaging energy about it all. Perhaps this is why an enraged heckler, much to Adamson’s cheerful bemusement, starts bellowing for him to “fuck off” halfway through the concert. Adamson, responds by dedicating a number called “Civilization” to him.
Adamson’s stage performance would benefit from money thrown at it, a big stage show, a brass section, some theatre, more crispness - either that or fuzzed-up, lo-fi, rock'n'roll velocity - because tonight's performance slowly lost steam as it went along. Only at the very end, when Adamson paid tribute to David Bowie, using the superbly stompy backing track from Iggy Pop’s “Nightclubbing” for his own 1998 corker “Jazz Devil”, did the energy levels amp back up and grab our attention. By then it was too late and, as he assayed a brief funky attack on Sly & the Family Stone for his second encore, the back of the hall was already drifting towards the exit.
rating
Buy
Share this article
The future of Arts Journalism
You can stop theartsdesk.com closing!
We urgently need financing to survive. Our fundraising drive has thus far raised £33,000 but we need to reach £100,000 or we will be forced to close. Please contribute here: https://gofund.me/c3f6033d
And if you can forward this information to anyone who might assist, we’d be grateful.
Subscribe to theartsdesk.com
Thank you for continuing to read our work on theartsdesk.com. For unlimited access to every article in its entirety, including our archive of more than 15,000 pieces, we're asking for £5 per month or £40 per year. We feel it's a very good deal, and hope you do too.
To take a subscription now simply click here.
And if you're looking for that extra gift for a friend or family member, why not treat them to a theartsdesk.com gift subscription?
Add comment