1978
Soft Boys
Nashville
by Rick Joseph
Dama Edna and The Damned punctured London's monotony uptown, while platoons of thrillgazers crammed into North End Road's hottest niterie.
The Soft Boys' busy performance was a beehive of frantic energy aimed at evoking a mood, but succeeding at the expense of musical unity.
For influences they delved into an eclectic potpourri of musical snatches and styles, some of which surfaced elegantly while a lot of it sank in a quag of subliminal complexity.
Their unorthodoxy is revealed most strongly through singer Robyn Hitchcock, who hails from an abyss of his own.
A latter day Bela Lugosi look-alike, he growled his farrago of self-penned songs, touching upon private obsessions of transsexuality, shellfish, crowbar wallers and Sandra's brain transplant. He's a closet genius in the Syd Barrett vein, and a fine vocalist to boot.
Dynamics were supplied by the agile fretting and footwork of guitarist Kimberley Rew, cleverly twiddling with shards of creative feedback; and Jim Melton, who trapezed on and off stage to play spicy harmonica or de-mist his mirror shades. Cohesion was dutifully provided (almost) by drummer Morris Windsor and Andy "Pigworker" Metclafe on bass.
Together they handled mutant hybrids of Reggae, Psychedelia, Punkthrash and Gregorian Plainsong, and highlighted the show with some unexpectedly good R&B tunes.
Notwithstanding the dictates of fashion, The Soft Boys may be destined for a future flirt with fame. Their impish inventiveness and disregard for Rock protocol make them unlike any other band in business. But in their eagerness to subvert, they frequently lost control of the musical pacing. Result: noise; hip-fracture.
I'll gladly look up any future Soft gig, if only to pick up the bits I missed when I blinked during tonight's show.
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