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Nick Morgan and crew
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Concert
Review by Nick Morgan |
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LINDA LEWIS AND HER BAND Pizza on the Park,
London, March 18th 2006 |
Linda Lewis' first LP (1971) |
When
I heard the words “welcome to our little
knees-up” I confess I panicked. Surely not
Chas and Dave again? But no worries, this was
chirpy Cockney Sparrow Linda
Lewis, of 1970s folky soulish disco
crossover fame, in the plush (well – at
least in the dark) and slightly posh Pizza in
the Park in London’s rather knobby Knightsbridge,
performing for the most part songs from her ‘comeback’
album, itself a live recording (Live in Old Smokey)
made at Ronnie Scott’s, and her extensive
back catalogue. Linda ‘went’ after
her hits ‘Rock-a-doodle-doo’ and ‘It’s
in his kiss’ in 1973 and 1975 respectively,
and her last UK chart appearance in 1979. |
| Recording
only periodically thereafter (‘though she
has a gold-plated list of session work) she went
big in Japan – almost Spinal Tap style - in
the late 90s and is clearly now making a concerted
attempt to re-stake a larger claim to fame. However
not all the audience are here to see the right Linda
Lewis – the two groping ladies sharing the
shadowy and intimate table behind us keep on shouting
for her to sing ‘Loving you’, whilst
the American honeymoon couple on the other side
of the stage are impatiently waiting for her to
sing ‘Love and affection’. Fame? Linda,
Minnie and Joan, eat your hearts out. |
| And
let’s talk about the audience. Well they must
be here for Linda because to be frank you wouldn’t
come here for the food. One suspects that, pizzas
apart, the kitchen has something of the microwave
about it (even the salads). And the pizzas? Well
you said you didn’t have them in France yet
Serge, but now I know you have very nice pissaladiere.
Unfortunateley ours were nowhere near as good as
those tasty little treats. The venue is close by
the hyper-posh Lanesborough Hotel, and a number
of other similarly overpriced gaffs, so it’s
an obvious draw for tourists and out of towners,
who probably make up half the ample crowd. |
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| They’re
the ones wearing the Christmas present jumpers and
black trouser suits, with that look of permanent
distrust about them, as if they’re expecting
the waiters (who, along with waitresses, are quite
excellent) to stab them in the back, steal their
wallets and handbags, and kidnap their husbands
or wives at any moment. They also look unaccountably
disconsolate (maybe because they’ve just realised
that Linda Lewis isn’t Minnie, or Joan), but
by the second set as the wine (good and reasonable
wine list) kicks in and Ms Lewis’s very genuine
and disarming charm wins them over, everyone gets
pretty mellow. Both the groping ladies and the honeymooners
are close to coupling by the end of the night, whilst
adjacent tables of Australians and Americans have
struck up a strange and very loud sort of entente
cordiale. The obsessive fan with the crazed check
jacket is in the Gents sharing stories with anyone
who will listen about fantastic e-bay triumphs searching
for Linda memorabilia (“I even got a pair
of her knickers”). In the midst of this touristic
League of Nations there are also clearly a lot of
Linda’s extended ‘family’ –
here to celebrate the new album release –
and if it’s not exactly a who’s who
of the London seventies scene that Ms Lewis was
such a part of (which it ain’t) then it’s
certainly a group of whom some, like Linda, have
survivor written all over them. |
 |
Linda’s
a nice soul, wears her heart on her sleeve (or in
her songs) and isn’t afraid to share her vulnerability
with her audience. She’s got no side, and
easily takes us into her confidence. She’s
been through the mill a bit since her meteoric rise
to fame in the company of her boyfriend and later
husband, Family member Jim Cregan (actually he’s
got a rock CV as long as your arm, but that’s
another story). He’s the one she sings about
in Fathoms, an old song but one of the nicer ones
from the first set. Of course he’s an ex –
and we’re told there have been a number since.
“I went out with him for two hours”
she confides of Cat Stevens, before singing his
‘Schoolyard’ – and she doesn’t
quite explain how she’s playing a guitar she’s
had for 40 years, but which once belonged to Eric
Clapton’s “girlfriend”. “She’s
dead now, but I’ve still got it. Gosh –
that makes me sound like a real cow doesn’t
it?”. Nor does she care for Andrew Lloyd Webber,
and found working with Mike Batt “the worst
experience of my life”. |
| Ms
Lewis’s most recent and apparently reticent
husband is in the audience, and there’s a
song written for him, the pleasant enough ‘Don’t
do don’t’; “he hasn’t got
long to go,” we’re told. |
|
Well you can tell from all this that it’s
a pleasant and very friendly sort of evening, if
not a little lightweight. Ms Lewis has not lost
her trademark high pitched voice, nor her ability
to use it – even if she does start singing
a little flat and ends chatting with friends, and
nicely with the Photographer (“I could see
your lovely headscarf from the stage”), over
a pint of wine and constant cigarettes. She has
a band who are really working for her, but with
sadly limited material; many of the tunes sound
as if they could merge seamlessly and effortlessly
into ‘The road to Sante Fe’ and go all
the way along the middle of it to Radio Twoland.
There’s a lingering seventies feel of ‘love
and peace, black and white’ about the songs
(old and new) that sounds woefully misplaced in
the callous and cynical first decade of the twenty-first
century. I trawled out an old review of her, supporting
Cat Stevens, when the reviewer wrote that Ms Lewis
couldn’t decide if she was Joni Mitchell or
Aretha Franklin. |
| Tonight
it’s mostly Aretha, and occasionally Aretha
meets Shirley Bassey, which is a shame, for the
one Joni moment we get at the start of the first
half, ‘Light years away’ and ‘Keep
a wish’ is quite delightful and has the audience
spellbound. I could have hugged her it was so good
(it almost made the pizza worth it), and listened
to it all night. I puzzled that Ms Lewis’
only fault seemed to be that she was a singer bereft
of a song - or The Song that would put her back
on the map. Never mind – she’s a thoroughly
engaging personality on stage, a good live act to
catch, and you could always lash out on ‘Live
in Old Smokey’, or if you’re feeling
nostalgic one of her many ‘greatest hits’
compilations. But just remember – it’s
Linda, not Minnie, or Joan. - Nick Morgan (concert
photographs by Kate, pizza by Nick) |
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the index of all reviews:
Nick's Concert Reviews
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