| |
Whiskyfun
Home
(Current
entries)
Concert
Review
Index
(All Reviews
Since 2004)
Leave
feedback
 |
Copyright
Nick Morgan and crew
|
|
|
Concert
Review by Nick Morgan |
|
 |
THE GHOST FLIGHT REVUE (ROBERT LOVE, SANDY DILLON
and JEFF KLEIN)
Dingwalls (Lock 17), London March 29th 2006
|
| “I’m
sorry Nick”, said Serge, “but I’ve
never heard of Robert Love”. Well I was confused
too. And actually it’s not Robert Love, it’s
Rob Spragg, aka The Reverend Larry Love, of Whiskyfun
favourites Alabama 3. But just to be sure I checked.
Was our Robert Love singer Larry
Love, who “frequently performs for dances,
parties, anniversaries, class reunions, fund-raisers,
funerals and memorials, school assemblies, corporate
events, church events, fairgrounds, and holiday
receptions”? Or could he have been the Reverend
and “Mad Larry” Love of Cambridge,
Mass., only recently deceased? Or Larry
Love the dancing hamster? Or the Larry Love
sex doll (actually Serge, you might not want to
put in the link for this)? [but of course I
will, Nick - there!].
Hmm, you see that’s the problem with multiple
identities – have too many and soon no one
really knows who you are. |
 |
| We’re
late, and it’s partly my fault (or should
I say Serge, it’s the fault of your wonderful
Paris, always so difficult to part from, like a
once forgotten lover, rediscovered in the warm spring
sunshine). It’s a pre-gig Greek meal with
Jozzer and his good lady, Trizzer. The food is,
errr, Greek. And so is the service, the long delay
between the appetisers and the main course being
apparently designed to force us to order (and drink)
vast quantities of (fairly decent – or so
it seemed at the time) Greek red wine. This is a
challenge to which Jozzer and I both rise with true
British spunk. As a consequence we arrive at Dingwalls
(which marketing git renamed it ‘Lock 17’
I wonder?) almost at the end of the first act Jeff
Klein. By coincidence the last time
we were here was with Jozzer and Trizzer, to see
the Larry Love Showband, that wonderful trimmed-down
and largely acoustic version of the A3. On that
occasion, as the four of us comprised around a third
of the audience, we danced the night away extravagantly
in front of the band (“here’s another
nice tune for you old folks to dance to” I
recall Larry saying), until Jozzer, moved by the
excitement of it all (and vast quantities of red
wine) jumped onto the stage in the middle of ‘Peace
in the Valley’ and testified, on his knees,
to all and sundry. Tonight you can barely see the
stage for the assembled throng of arty Brixton low-lifers
who’ve made their way north of the river to
witness this metropolitan stop in a UK tour to promote
new albums recently released by all three artistes
(who share the same band for the night) on the Little
Indian label. The nice man selling t-shirts, who
gives me a handy promo CD for the tour, tells me
that this is the first busy night they’ve
had. |
| Se
we didn’t hear much of Jeff, who from what
I can gather is a very American-sounding Brit, with
a lazy bluesy voice that falls, like the other two
performers this evening, into the ‘whisky
soaked and tobacco stained’ variety. I’ve
never heard him before, and whilst the tracks on
the promo disc are a little ho hum, he’s an
attractive proposition live. As is the fierce and
feisty Sandy
Dillon, with a vocal style somewhere
between Melanie and Macy Gray, and a percussive
keyboard that sometimes makes her sound remarkably
close to Tom Waits. Well worth a listen we thought
(and I’m certainly off to see her for Whiskyfun
at the next possible chance) – a view apparently
not shared by a large part of the audience. |
 |
| Such
was their high-pitched faux working class braying
that in the end Larry, or should I say Robert, strode
onto the stage and threw what can only be described
as a real folk-club wobbly: “now shut the
fuck up and if you’ve got some fucking business
conversation to have then get the fuck behind the
fucking bar”. Silence reigned, briefly, until
Jozzer added (so loud, yet with no amplification)
“Right on Larry, fucking artists demand fucking
respect”. Others might have cringed, but I
have to put on record here that as the man that
introduced me to the Alabama 3 (over a rather nice
Cantonese lunch) I can forgive Jozzer for almost
anything (I said ALMOST anything). |
Devillia Dallas |
So
next, I thought, was Robert Love. But no! The stage
was taken by two girls on keyboards and a hidden
guitarist, who started playing and singing a barely
recognisable version of ‘Sympathy for the
devil’. For some reason The Photographer shot
to the front of the stage, Jozzer started sweating,
Trizzer looked uneasy, whilst I sat thinking that
this very 1970s cool alternative Brixton collective
thing was really running out of steam. Steam? The
next thing was fireworks – revolving around
the huge breasts of Devillia
Dallas “a sultry, pistol-packin,
whiskey swillin, fire nipple twirllin, fire eatin,
neo-burlesque vixen” according to her website.
I think it’s what they call subversive alternative
cabaret in south London, but I can’t help
thinking that Jozzer was more on the mettle, “Stripper”
he shouted, as Trizzer held him down with a triple
Nelson – very admirable. |
 |
| And
then, as the smoke subsided, Robert
Love and his band. I should say that
I have the album, Ghost Flight, and have largely
been disappointed by it, ‘though it certainly
gets hugely better once seen performed live. Very
derivative, some cringe-worthy arrangements (the
pianist used to work at the Raymond Revue bar, and
it shows) and just flat compared to his other works.
That’s the bad part. Live, with Robert Love
in a fairly belligerent mood, the very C&W tinged
tunes took on a fantastic honky tonk feel. People
danced, Robert swore, the guitarist in the band
really started playing well, the drink was flowing,
and we had a big fun time. I’ve gone back
to the album and found it more enjoyable, but the
tip here is that Robert, or Larry, or just plain
Merthyr boy Robb, whomever he might be, is an outstanding
live performer. And if you ever get the opportunity
to see him, in whichever guise he may take (apart
from the sex doll of course) then please go. And
if you don’t want to buy his records, then
you might like to try Jeff Klein, or certainly the
very interesting Ms Sandy Dillon’s. Nick
Morgan (all concert photographs by Kate) |
Check
the index of all reviews:
Nick's Concert Reviews
|
|
|
|
|
There's nothing more down there... |
|
|
|
|
