The Hollywood Reporter
June 2, 1997
Robyn Hitchcock
The Roxy, West Hollywood
Saturday, May 31
by John Lappen
Ex-Pink Floyd leader Syd Barrett is alive and well living in the body of fellow Brit eccentric Robyn Hitchcock. The amusing and idiosyncratic Hitchcock has, over the years, taken up the mantle of Barrett's demented muse minus Syd's well-documented public acid trips.
Hitchcock's 90-minute Roxy show was replete with his trademark surreal pre-song monologues, lyrics that would have been written by M.C. Escher and Salvador Dali had they been songwriters, and his straight-faced delivery of all of the above. Like Barrett, he's created his own musical universe and the fortunate choose to live in it. Hitchcock's faithful include filmmaker Jonathan Demme (Stop Making Sense), who recently filmed him performing in a New York storefront.
At The Roxy, members of Hitchcock's devoted cult could be seen mouthing the very strange lyrics. Song topics ranged from personalities such as Gene Hackman and the late English singer-songwriter Nick Drake to insects and balloon men. It doesn't really matter that they don't always make sense; that's part of the fun. It does matter that Hitchcock can articulately impart his warped vision to at least some of the masses.
He does so in a tuneful package that features his strong vocals, fluid guitar playing (both acoustic and electric) and those satirical, stream-of-consciousness lyrics that take an occasional jab at societal ills and make a frequent target of the music biz. It's all veddy veddy British and not to be missed by those who are fans of Monty Python, 1960s English Psychedelia and the not-very-normal.
Minus The Egyptians this time out, Hitchcock played both alone and with another guitarist. He's got a fine new record on Warner Bros. called Moss Elixir from which he strummed a few odd ditties. The biggest response was for oldies from his vast catalog such as "Balloon Man", "Queen Elvis", and "I Often Dream Of Trains" -- the latter "about or for my mom -- I can't remember which."
It was an intimate evening with an artist who veers from madman to jokester with equal aplomb. Hitchcock's an acquired taste now 20-plus years in the making but, hey, who wants to eat at McDonald's all the time anyway?
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