Pete Molinari ~ Coach & Horses, B'Kara, 15/04/2011

{Published in The Times of Malta, 20/04/2011}

Questions of Authenticity

The fine line between being influenced and being a mimic is one Pete Molinari seems to enjoy treading. At times the inflections of Bob Dylan, Paul Simon and countless others are so vivid in Molinari’s music that he might as well be a kitschy tribute act. On the other hand, hat tipping from the likes of Jools Holland, Ray Davies and Paul Weller, suggests that Molinari does have an authentic voice somewhere amid the cacophony of his influences.

Currently on tour in support of his third album A Train Bound for Glory, the singer-songwriter of Maltese/Italian/Egyptian descent gave two low-key acoustic showcases last weekend at the Coach and Horses pub in B’Kara.

After mingling with friends outside in the cold and consuming sufficient amounts of cheap red wine, Molinari made his way to the small platform in the middle of the room armed with just his acoustic guitar and harmonica. He started the night with what are arguably two of his finest songs, Love Lies Bleeding and I Don’t Like the Man that I Am, and both sounded ethereal live; like folk songs that had been plucked ripe from the same tree of music consciousness Molinari’s heroes ate from. On this evidence it was not hard to see why Molinari has garnered such critical, if not commercial, acclaim.

In between songs Molinari rambled on about his recording experiences and travelling the States, his thick British accent jarring with his Americanised singing voice, gradually wearing away the illusion of authenticity.

“What ever happened to songs of substance? Guthrie, Williams and guys like that?” he half-asked the audience before playing Lest We Forget and Anthem For Doomed Youth, two songs inspired by poems of celebrated war poet Wilfred Owen. As far as protest songs go these cover well familiar ground as blood is shed in vain, freedom cannot be won, and the glorious dead need to be remembered.

With lyrics this watered down you couldn’t help but wonder whether these songs hold any sincere sentiment or are merely another conventional format Molinari felt the need to tap into in order to prove his worth. The singer certainly didn’t dwell on the morose subject for too long, quipping after “I’m also available for children parties.”

Molinari’s set continued to embrace songs from all of his physical releases, as well as ones to be featured on his upcoming album and cover versions. Wishing On the Moon, a romantically wistful tune inspired by Billie Holiday, was given its first public showing and rekindled the magic of earlier on. He finished off the night with a somewhat shoddy cover of The Beatles’ You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away, leaving most in the room still very confused as to what to make of the artist.

The undoing of Pete Molinari is that he wants to be an anachronism; a freewheelin’ beat romanticist strung out on the promises of Greenwich Village, who is both chronologically and geographically misplaced. From his Dylan voicing and mannerisms, garments straight out of a timeworn suitcase probably found in some retro clothing warehouse, and the constant allusions to America’s golden age of music, everything about Molinari apes vintage. But what made his heroes so significant was that while their formative sound was fashioned by a tradition, they were also not afraid to progress with the times, adding that mind-blowingly novel something to the musical spectrum in the process.

Unfortunately, Molinari seems to be hell-bent on recreating that which he was never even a part of first time round. This is not to say he doesn’t write some truly inspiring songs, but these are so laden with the spirit of his influences as to leave little or no aftertaste of Molinari himself whatsoever. In the end you will only be left thirsty for the real thing.