Op + Po

This is a review form the current Nightshift, and the column from the July Ocelot.  I'm only going to do one more Ocelot piece, because I ust don't have the time.  Plus, I do feel that it's redundant in Oxon - nothing wrong with what they do, but in this county we have a lot of very good music writers in different places, nobody needs to get told about a band by a little 250 word block in a  shiny magazine here, I suspect.  Still, if you;re reading this and fancy taking over - it is kin d of fun - drop them a line, they are very nice people.

Comedy and music are a strange double act.  Frank Zappa asked Does Humour Belong In Music?...and in his case, the answer was generally, no – Shut Up ‘N Play Yer Guitar.  We’re generally used to good music being punctuated by bad gags, whether it’s Frank’s sexist locker-room fantasies or endless hip hop skits, and we’re used to comedians putting funny lyrics to serviceable, forgettable music, but it is rare that the two gel perfectly.  Take Oxfordshire’s Beaver Fuel, a clattering punk band (with some decidedly unpunk tricksy chord-changes hidden underneath) whose lyricist, Leigh Alexander, writes some very witty and well-turned words.  You won’t always hear all these words when watching the trio, as things tend to get hit quite hard onstage – including the bassist – but the sonic avalanche is pleasing.  Still, I recommend trying to catch Leigh play solo, where the true pleasure of his songs is evident, be they about naughty words and shitting in shoes, or weightier, more thoughtful topics like religion and the orthographical impact of urban culture. 

We’ll be seeing him later tonight, where he’s filling in for a cancelled act.  Too many bands in Oxford are cancelling gigs, and it should stop: everybody knows that turnouts can be low, but the best way of getting paying customers in the door is not forcing venues to say “somebody’s on next week, but we’re not yet sure who because a percussionist forgot the date of their great-aunt’s wedding anniversary”.  Leigh often steps up to fill empty bills, as well as turning up as a punter in more gigs than most acts, proving he’s more serious about the health of local music than plenty of more serious performers: some musicians are funny, and some are just a joke.

LARRY REDDINGTON – DIRTY WORK (Own label)

Nobody is beyond criticism.  Every musician is only as good as the last thing they did.  However, if you were going to offer a local performer an indulgent bye, it might be Larry Reddington, veteran drummer from such varied bands as blues rockers Steamroller and billowing goths Mary’s Garden, as well as a genial presence at many an open jam or behind the counter of The Music Box.  So, we put this record in the stereo prepared to go easy, and discovered a sincerely enjoyable selection of cultured, stately blues.  It’s all delivered in Reddington’s measured, scuffed vocal sounding more like a perspicacious aged retainer than a whiskey-suckin’ delta hollerer; in fact, it’s the sly humour shat stands out on this record, from the fights dodged and situations defused in “Back In Ten Minutes” to widow-romancing urban fabliau “Dirty Work”, in which Reddington’s laconic intonation of the chorus sounds oddly like the Bonzos’ Vivian Stanshall.

There are some notable friends helping out, from Aaron Keylock’s juicy slide playing, to Gary Good’s relaxed sax, but it’s the lead man’s character that defines the record, the unhurried tempos making it feel like an extended anecdote over a long coffee.  The record is relatively varied, taking in Chicago ballads, Bo Diddley shuffles and even light reggae, but essentially if you’ve heard enough blues then you’ll find that Larry plays it pretty safe: still, why should this old dog learn any new tricks when we’re still falling for this one?