LARKIN POE/ JESS MORGAN, Empty Room Promotions, Bully,
10/4/15
We tend to celebrate rich and complex voices, but
sometimes there’s something to be said for simplicity and clarity. Jess Morgan’s tones are light and instantly
likable, less single malt smoke, more Baileys sweetness, and she has a winning
way of delivering a lyric or melodic line (the latter of which her
country-tinged ditties are far from short on).
“Connecticut” might be her best tune, a gritty but uplifting tale of
low-rent hotels like a slightly morose Sheryl Crow, and if the show tends
towards the airily forgettable, affable young ladies with acoustics swarm the
circuit in their hordes, and Morgan clearly outstrips the majority.
Despite its tin-eared title, the Ameripolitan movement is
a fine thing, saving US roots music from vapid cabaret chicks and Republican
pinups whose only link with country is
outsized headgear who look like fireman strip-a-grams and, but that’s not to say all commercially-minded Americana is
bad. There are many definitions of
“populist”, but one of them is the neo-Benthamite desire to bring pleasure to
as many people as possible, which is hard to argue against. Atlantan sisters Larkin Poe could be ambassadors
for this ethos, clearly determined tonight that the entire Bully should have as
much fun as they do, and whilst their bluesy country pop might sometimes bring
to mind the smooth stadium roots of Alannah Myles, it’s equally aligned with
AC/DC – the opener “Wade In The Water” develops into a joyously huge dumbass
rocker that could soundtrack a Southern fried reboot of Bill & Ted, and gospel groove “Hey Sinner” stretches stickily
like cooling toffee, before mutating into a funkily minimal take on “Black
Betty”. The playing is sharp, especially
Megan Lovell’s molten lapsteel solos, and the vocals impressive, but the duo
never veer off into empty melisma or fiddly chops if the songs would suffer
(and kudos to the one-man backing band, on drums and synth-bass, a clinically relentless
mixture of Meg White and Mantronix).
Their three-cover encore might be the sort of thing to
win over Terry Wogan’s listeners (“He’s so
English” – hilarious), but sells an intelligent, creative and infectiously
hedonistic duo short. Tellingly, they make
a point of celebrating the single dancin’ fool in the room vainly trying to
turn a polite Oxford crowd into a moshpit: Larkin Poe aren’t afraid of
commercial trappings, but beneath beats a heart of purest musical fire
