Cabaret Voltage

 I was very happy with this review, and pleased that the editor was prepared to print it.  Apologies for the over-zealous spacing, I can't fix this when pasting the text in, and don't fancy retyping the whole thing. 

JEFFREY LEWIS & THE VOLTAGE/ MAX BLANSJAAR/ THE DUMPLINGS, Divine Schism, Florence Park Community Centre, 30/9/22

Jeffrey Lewis has a method of accompanying tunes

With a bunch of rhyming couplets and some Powerpoint cartoons,

And with these micro-TEDx talks he gives us the straight dope

On the birth of NY punk acts, and on Star Wars: A New Hope;

Also covered, just to show the breadth of scope that Jeff’s got

Are the second Evil Dead film and the great Fitzgerald, F. Scott.

These poems are instructive and they entertain just fine

Even though there are sometimes far more syllables than can comfortably fit into a single line.

His songs are also playful, and are certainly conducive,

All new wave lofi antifolk with rhymes like Dr Seuss’s.

Lewis’s guitar-playing is neither big nor fancy,

But listen closely and you’ll find it’s sweet, and quite Bert Jansch-y

(Although it must be said he is not wary of the joys

 Of extended abstract passages and grating feedback noise).

The lyrics touch on common themes with open honesty,

Like the pains of breaking up or taking too much LSD.

The backing band is hot, but know not to get in the way

Of the neat melodic songs nor all the witty things they say –

In this respect he’s mirrored by Max Blansjaar, his support,

A young local songwriter who has definitely sought

Some of the best musicians to be found in Oxford city

But they never overshadow any quirky little ditty.

(We also saw The Dumplings whom we’d hardly say were tight 

But those who don’t enjoy it must have hearts of anthracite.)

Some of the show is clownish, and some of it even loonier,

Like a song on getting ghosted borrowed from Ray Parker Jr.

But for all we’re painting Lewis like a wacky old gag-vendor,

The lyrics often turn out to be touching, sad, or tender,

And the jokes end up quite moving, must have been the way he told ‘em -

And walking home through Florence Park we swear we saw Will Oldham.

Jolly Jack, Ta

"Bank holiday comes six time a year, actually it's seven, and there have been occasions where another has been granted for special occasions, eg the millennium".
"Do you want to have another crack at that, Damon, mate?"

Happy bank hol weekend, you rapscallions.

JACK GOLDSTEIN/ MAX BLANSJAAR/ DESPICABLE ZEE, Beanie Tapes, Deaf & Hard Of Hearing Centre, 12/5/19

Despicable Zee’s recent EP Atigheh is likely to be one of Oxford’s releases of the year when the dust settles, but we were interested to see how Zahra Tehrani would translate its chilly introspection to the live stage.  Tonight’s performance is denser and more oppressive than the original recordings, whether that entails adding an insouciant MIA grove to “Counting Cars”, or smothering sample lattices with drums and synthesised skreek drones.  Electronic drum pads add some salad crisp snare tones, but there are one or two moments when acoustic drums overbalance the sound, reminding of us of that early 90s moment when bands like Pop Will Eat Itself explored building rock songs around sequenced backing, generally ending up with clunk-funk rhythms that didn’t quite gel.  This is a minor criticism, though, and it’s impressive that Tehrani has taken such a strong recording, and created a different, but equally intriguing, performance.

Max Blansjaar’s set is less intense, consisting of primary colour poster paint pop, all light bouncy guitar and smiling vocal lines. Imagine rough demos of 1987 hits by Go West or Wax, and you are in the right zone, although there is a choppier Graham Coxon feel to “You’re Always On My Mind”.  As much as we love Self Help and Easter Island Statues, who provide Max’s rhythm section, the strongest track is a solo piece, which resembles “The Girl From Ipanema” rewritten by Lou Barlow, featuring bonus kazoo.  It’s enjoyable stuff, though we do feel that, for a set of pure pop, there could be more euphoria – we want whoops of wild abandon, not quiet, contented smiles.

Although Jack Goldstein seems to balance sweaty pop abandon with the diffuse reticence of an academic at their first conference on Coptic etymology.  After having the organisors make us all stand up he treats us to a long, rambling monologue about pop tropes and presentation.  We’re not sure whether the message is that lofi artists should admit they’re no different from mega-stage pop Pepsinauts and so make a theatrical effort, or that a classic song will work anywhere so keep things simple. It’s possibly both.  What we are sure about is that Jack, leaping round the venue in a camel tracksuit like a life coach on a busman’s holiday, is always a pleasure, and that backing tracks mixing 80s pop, 90s rave and (inevitably) The Beach Boys sound great anywhere.  The campaign for Goldstein Eurovision 2020 starts now!