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Posts Tagged ‘Oran Mor’

This is a review from my companion at the gig

“I’ve been obsessed with Adam Green since purchasing the Moldy Peaches debut album and doing what seems to be that rarest of things, since I’ve grown out of my teens, falling head over heels in love with it.

As an ex riot grrl (apart from still loving wearing nighties as daywear and silly hairclips) have never really liked male singers.
However there is something about Adam. He is admittedly rather fine looking and his rich timbre is at odds with his pretty indie boy looks. As someone who prefers music to melodically drift over my head, thinking them as more of a carrier of the tunes rather than anything vital in themselves, both his songs and lyrics mesmerise me, there is not one without the other and there is rarely a time when his songs do not accompany me on my daily absolutions. This is not good as I work in a nursery and absent-mindedly sing hideously catchy couplets about ketamine and death.

Anyway, in a bland mediocre age of uniform singers singing forgettable songs about nothing, thank fuck for Adam Green.
He comes onstage looking like Big Bird in a slightly satanic looking top with white tassels and white jeans. He stumbles, looks befuddledly arrogant, slurs, smiles, trips then bursts into glorious rich classical numbers with tunes that transcend boundaries, style and images-songs which only last two minutes and have lyrics about fucking girls with no legs, but sung so so sweetly, that haunt and hum. I watch the bouncers eyes widen as they listen and their mouths drop. Everyone around me is terribly excited at the thought that he might be on drugs. ‘He is so fucking fucked; they murmur in admiration.
He goes through the whole repertoire of his five solo albums, each song greeted with devotion and sung along to although there are a few people who have come to the gig due to hearing him and his ex Moldy Peaches band member Kimya Dawson on the Juno soundtrack.
He dives around the stage, his only words, mumbling about haggis but it is clear that he is a star. His fellow band members help him out when he seems to forget where he is, starting songs and improvising, sometimes looking like annoyed parents when he swans off, staggering on his skinny legs waving his arms and still somehow remaining impossibly elegant and glorious. How did such a glorious voice and such a foul mouth end up in this mid twenties American who looks like a member of the Killers?
Proof that if there is a god, he has a sense of humour.
Frank Sinatra, Curtis Mayfield and Mick Jagger are channelled through this slight swaying figure-I want a wee but am transfixed, cannot take my eyes of him-I imagine it would be the same seeing a disjointed Kurt Cobain in some seedy club in Seattle but Adam suits this venue-a deconsecrated church, rich and lavish yet seedy and gloriously wrong with its selection of two hundred whiskeys and plush leather sofas where people once prayed.
Adam at the pulpit, breaks into glorious song, stumbles, forgets and beams. And he is absolved as yet another song rolls forth in all its glory. Rich, orchestral and magnificent, yet lyrics delving into the seediest of mines. He is one of those rare artists where every song is a classic, no filler, all killer as they say. I cannot even remember which particular ones he sang as every song he has ever recorded is so fully burned onto my membrane, each one following me as I walk to work, brush my teeth and go to sleep that I cannot distinguish reality from memory. I just stand in a vodka haze, watching a legend perform before me, knowing I witnessing something so very very fucking special.”

Tamar Newton

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apologies for teh crap live pictures

I’ll be absolutely honest – I don’t really get Adam Green. This was really a gig I went to with someone else rather than for myself so it puts me in a slightly odd situation reviewing it. I can’t say a lot of his work clicks with me, maybe I’m just some sort of hideous inner prude or something, but just as I find myself starting to warm to his his laconicly rich foot tapping easy listening stylings he says something about monkey’s cocks or conjures odd visions of group sex that almost invariably seems to alienate me. I dunno, maybe he’s too young and good looking cos I’ve always liked a bit of Arab Strap and the like, but maybe Aidan’s beardy drunk growl is somehow less threatening to my alpha male inner me. Perhaps. Maybe not. Who cares anyway? It could be that he is just spewing utter jumbles of words but the devotion of his fans tonight suggests there is some kind of inner sense to all this that I just can’t fathom. Eleonor was great though and Mr Green was suitably glassy eyed so, yeah – all in all, more interesting than not. I couldn’t stop thinking ‘Mick Jagger’ though.

Support act Noah and the Whale were more my cup of tea, carefully constructed songs with glockenspiel and folkish twinges, sometimes louder, sometimes not. The other support act I forgot completely so I guessing he didn’t change my life. Unless his act consisted of a memory washing exercise in which case I’m very impressed.

Glasgow itself was great – I’d been only once before and it disapeared into a bit of a blur, this time I was determined to have a good wander round and get a feel for another city. Engaging in what I could pretentiously term ‘neo-situationist urban landscape mapping’ (strolling about with a camera) revealed a really interesting place, I’ll admit we never really strayed from the West End but I loved the tall sandstone buildings and the grubby glamour of the area. It’s not Knightsbridge but that’s the point. Good pubs were plentiful, record shops abounded and I’ve not eaten so well in ages. I also noted to myself how few ‘urban splash’ style developments there were in comparison to say Manchester or Liverpool.

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Ultimately, it was a good place to waste some time pleasurably – A city with loads to do but without the horribly combatative, pretentious edge of some other places of its size. The one disapointment to me was, even though I climbed a quite big hill in Partick, I couldn’t see the Thistle’s football ground from the top. Sad times as I believe da yoot would say.

Good places to go and do stuff/eat things/get pished

Tchaiovna – Have a brew in an alarmingly tumbledown place by the river. Probably not advisable for anyone who has an aversion to hippy stuff. Lovely tea though.

Grassroots Veggie Cafe – This was probably the best veggie place I’ve ever been too. I’d have happily sat in here all day, ordering food every couple of hours. Well recomended.

Naked Soup – It’s soup. What more can I really say? – It’s cheap, healthy and pretty nice inside. Don’t go to subway – go here instead.

The Halt Bar – Friendly staff and a load of good nights and lots of live music.

Oran Mor A really good venue with nice pub upstairs and allsorts of stuff going on.

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