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?
