Payslip Park

This review, from the latest issue, is the last Nightshift review I have in the archives (for "archives" read "pile"). From now on you'll get them as they're written, roughly one per month. Fret not, there are still loads of Oxfordbands pieces in the posting schedule (for "schedule" read "desperate random selection").

HUCK & THE HANDSOME FEE/ BARBARE11A/ LORD MAGPIE & THE PRINCE OF CATS, Big Hair, Cellar, 7/1/10


The implausibly named Lord Magpie & The Prince Of Cats offer guttersnipe rockabilly that can hardly be called tidy, but has the clumsy alluring grace of a newborn foal. They have tiny amps that probably came from a Kinder Surprise, atrocious backing vocals, a strange ungainly vocalist who camply croons like a cross between Andy Warhol and Waylon Jennings, and enough energy to outweigh any amateurism. Some of the greatest rock ‘n’ roll is primal, and whilst Lord Magpie isn’t angry, or sweaty, or sexy, the music does seem to come from the very core of the performers. They’re also fascinating: how did this weird lot meet? How do they rehearse? Hang on, have they ever rehearsed? If there’s one thing missing in rock music today, it’s mystery; Lord Magpie is a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a butterfingered cover of "Hi-Heeled Sneakers. Seek them out.

Barbare11a grabs the attention too, looking like a horrific mixup in the costume departments of Mad Max and Two Gentlemen Of Verona: ruffs, leathers and leggings. They play greasy glam rock, and though the vocalist talks like a strange Swedish Eddie Izzard, he has a strong Bowie-inflected singing voice. They’re like a version of Borderville from out of a Christmas cracker, and as such are great fun if a touch unconvincing. Then again, they’re playing with a man down, and they do give us a wonderful lilting waltz, and a superbly slurred Booze Brothers cover of “Minnie The Moocher”, so it’s a victory in the end.

Huck & The Handsome Fee could probably give seminars on how to build a set (though, with their grubby white vests they’d best not set up as stylists). The gig is a compact, well-constructed suite of songs that builds from a quiet bluesy narrative to a punked up Sun Records crackle without a wasted second. Humphrey Astley has a voice that milks the maximum drama from his dark songs, intoning “The Fall” like a mixture of Roy Orbison and Nick Cave and his backing is rock solid. Perhaps the dour country blues balladry feels thin after the flamboyant character of the support acts, but this is a decent band for a quiet evening of listening and solid, melancholy liquor drinking.