November 23, 2010
The Hounslow Wall of Sound
Having been recently inducted into the fanbase of singer Cathal Coughlan, I was lucky enough to have him performing just down the road last Thursday, at the Water Rats in King's Cross, in the company of his Grand Necropolitan Quintet. Since sometime WT reader Robin is to blame for both the induction and alerting me to the gig, this brief report is essentially for him.
I went with a couple of old APT people, one of whom unexpectedly turns out to be enough of an enthusiast to have seen Coughlan before in his Fatima Mansions days, and apparently still have an old "Keep Music Evil" T-shirt, though he didn't wear it for the occasion. I arrived -- I thought -- quite late, to find Simon in the bar, taking refuge from the support act, who was notionally meant to have finished some time earlier but had been held back to start late because no-one was there. Didn't hear him, so can't comment, but there was a general air of dissatisfaction.
Eventually Cathal and the band took to the stage, which was frankly pretty cramped for the six of them, and launched into a reasonably long and satisfying set ranging from this year's Rancho Tetrahedron back to a couple of FM tracks, and from the tuneful and lyrical to jangly, discordant theatricality. I wasn't taking notes, so this isn't really a running order, but as a very approximate account the songs performed included:
The Frond-Seller
Shipman Memorial
Epiphany Season
Best Say We're Not Serious
You Won't Get Me Home
Payday
The Sultan of Coltan County
Dark Parlour
The Adoptees
Black River Falls
The Loyaliser
Mr Bib's Saorstát Star Time
White's Academy
A Drunken Hangman
Rat Poison Rendezvous
Cathal sang with passionate intensity, keening and barking sweatily. In between numbers he was laconic and terse. Most songs were introduced by name alone, occasionally with a barbed comment. For Shipman Memorial: "I'd like to dedicate this to George Osborne"; for You Won't Get Me Home:
This is a song from the 1990s, which were like the 1960s only shit.
There were a couple of passing references to Ireland's financial situation, its language, and to living in London, but it clearly wasn't an evening for idle chit-chat.
The audience was very keen, and vaguely filled the small venue, but there couldn't have been more than 100 of us. The economics of this are opaque to me, but the performers can't be making much of a living on such a showing.
I have no idea how much of CC's rage is real and how much is an exaggerated theatrical pose -- probably a bit of both -- but I can imagine one might feel a bit aggrieved after years of performing so fiercely to so few people. I'm glad he does, anyway; it was a fun night.
Posted by matt at November 23, 2010 10:01 PM