Bruce Mason Centre
Review: David Lawrence
When this mild-mannered English guitar hero wondered aloud during the first of two encores on Saturday night whether there was anything anyone wanted to hear, there were a dozen or so instant suggestions.
He has been recording for close to 35 years, and the
back catalogue is extensive.
He had started with Sights and Sounds of London Town (the opening words are "Gillian she's" although my kids insist he sings "jelly and cheese") from his latest album, Mock Tudor, and much of the show was recent rather than vintage Thompson.
He has a fervent and faithful following and everything was warmly received. But the older stuff went down best.
Requests for the exuberant Valerie and the haunting Dimming of the Day (which slightly overstretched the serviceable vocals) were dutifully answered, although he didn't hark back as far as his Fairport Convention days.
No Tear-stained Letter either, or Shoot Out the Lights or Hokey-Pokey or Walking On the Wire or Al Bowlly's in Heaven ... and nothing from his timeless collection of instrumentals, Strict Tempo.
Still, what he played was a treat because he plays so well. You could swear he had a couple of assistants, but it was all from his own digits (except for an occasional touch of reverb) as he coaxed or wrung the full range from an acoustic Lowden.
For someone whose lyrics have their fair share of death and despair, he comes over as a genial character, and there were a couple of jokey numbers, one updating Marie's Wedding to take in Madonna's nuptials and the other satirising Kenny G's "duet" with Louis Armstrong ("a meeting of great minds, how nice/like Einstein and Sporty Spice").
No one should have felt short-changed after a near two-hour set. It is just a pity he couldn't do a second show and correct the omissions. And then maybe a third ...
