The Saturday before Christmas, and we’re braving a snowstorm to get to the proverbial seaside town that they forgot to shut down. Actually that’s unfair of me, the name of the town is Colwyn Bay, and it’s doing a huge amount to pull itself up by its boot straps. Central to that effort are the guys at DIGS Project, bringing acts of surprising quality to the town, not to mention cakes to a gig which is always good. Tonight’s headliners The Indelicates are a big deal, and we are almost as excited about Trevor Moss and Hannah-Lou.
First up on the bill though is local girl made good (and turned Londoner) Nia Roberts. She was given a measurable boost a couple of years ago when she was ‘discovered’ by Stephen Fry. Like she was an unknown land, or star or something. Anyway, it’s not the first time Fry has shown good taste and he wasn’t wrong about Nia. She looks so well turned out and polite, with an air of stillness around her, then out comes this cracked blues soaked voice.
There’s almost a bluegrass tint earlier in the set. Lordy I sound like one of those wine tasting snobs (“..a hint of verbena…”) and maybe it’s simpler to say that Nia has an unusual voice in the way that Jolie Holland has an unusual voice. Which is put to best effect on ‘Chelsea Girls’. Context is all and knowing that it’s more about the East Village than Cheyne Walk ramps the poignancy. Nia also starts off what turns out to be a theme for the night with her closing song “Why don’t you put flowers on my grave anymore”. For me, she was a real discovery (…see, I don’t follow Fry on Twitter…) as evidenced that I’m listening to her now while I’m writing.
Up next are Trevor Moss and Hannah-Lou. These guys are sweet. And of course pretty well known, being the core of the well regarded Indigo Moss which stripped down to present husband / wife duo form in 2008 or so. They’re a demonstrably devoted couple who traverse the country in a venerable camping van, circa 1977. They tell us that they have done 30,000 miles worth of gigging in it this year, managing to squeeze in a trip to North Wales in a last roll of those British Leyland wheels for the year.
What is touchingly lovely is they way that they entwine, musically as well as metaphorically. Both are leaning in close to the same mic, the glance of any casual observer would show their heads intermingled with guitar necks, and voices that do the same, climbing like vines. Hannah’s is the deeper, more resonant anchor whilst Trevor’s vocals rise ethereally around. The songs are those of the modern folk troubadour, ditties about Dalston and such-like, and a privilege to hear.
If Trevor and Hannah have a certain prettiness and whimsy, The Indelicates are….acerbic. Their name ain’t just an affectation, they’ll take your delicacies and stomp all over them. They’re great fun but have the sort of bite that I used to enjoy from Loudon Wainwright before he got soft. It’s kind of fitting that they are joined on stage by Keith Top Of The Pops, whose own material is even less delicate. Tonight, he has sheets of paper with notes in very big letters for each song, and deposits them onto the stage one by one. There must be some kind of secret recipe there too – I’ve had the photo of this phenomenon on my Flickr since the day after the gig and it has has hundreds of clicks. Well, 139 to be boringly accurate…bizarre.
They’re by no means all vinegar, au contraire Julia and Simon let us in on the joke. We’re laughing together at Simon’s protestations that he somehow thought that a concept album about the Waco siege would be a best seller. It damn well should have been, the title track has me shouting along with the belting chorus, as much as is decent for the photographer to shout. Tonight we are all Shiva and we are all Saviour.
Personal favourite is that famous little ditty ‘Waiting For Pete Doherty To Die’. Yes I know it’s meant to be a non-literal allegory on modern fame, but hell it’s funny when Simon mutters that he wrote it in 2006 and he’s still bloody waiting. They’re rousing and raise a surprising amount of foot stamping approval from the snow depleted audience. They have made a decision in advance to encore with ‘Fairytale In New York’, the set list proves it, but it has to be said they fumble a tiny bit to get the keys (and possibly the melody) sorted. In fairness, they do point out that this is the living embodiment of lack of practice, and in equal fairness it is the best take on the song that I have heard since the original, much better than 99% of the mawkish and horrible massacres that you can hear every year. It’s a song that winkles out frauds, so it helps that Julia and Simon are very much the genuine article.
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