I am not one to go to pop concerts, and rarely have visited clubs. I was taken to a club on Wednesday night in London’s Camden to see a singer called C W Stoneking, an Australian who sings like a black American from the 1920s. The crowd were actually well behaved, a few were drunk and I actually found the music interesting and his stories very funny. At least I had a chance of hearing what he was saying. I was told by someone who knows about these things that to enjoy a concert you need to get into the groove and to do that you really need to drink and then the lyrics don’t matter. And there was me thinking people wrote the lyrics because they wanted them to be heard.
I am surprised at myself for dancing and enjoying what I conceive to be a lyrical return to the time when musicality was everything and the cadence of voice without the microphone is enhanced by the microphone, instead of replaced by it as with so much I listen too.
I suppose coming from the classical music background the purity of the sound means something to me, not that a jumble of well organized sounds don’t have their place, just that their place isn’t anywhere near me.
I find myself for once recommending the eccentric music or a consummate performer. Enjoy.