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.

James Blunt ~ Valletta Waterfront, 07/04/2011

{Published in The Times of Malta, 13/04/2011}

Have you ever met anyone who admits to being a James Blunt fan? Probably not. Yet with record sales exceeding the 15 million mark, there have to be some folks among us who are willingly buying his albums. And not all of these can be apathetic teens buying last minute birthday/mother’s day/Christmas presents (tick where applicable) for their mothers at discounted prices off Amazon.com either.

Most have learnt to keep their love of Blunt hushed for fear of being mocked and showered with ridicule. But there is comfort in numbers, and so with that in mind, James Blunt’s Maltese fan base and assorted tourists congregated last Thursday evening at Valletta Waterfront to witness the artist who was once voted more annoying than traffic wardens and paper cuts, in the flesh.

Shortly after 9p.m. James Blunt walked out on stage to the steady drumbeat and processed guitar riff intro of So Far Gone, waving and urging the crowd to clap along. The musicians sounded as polished as the studio recordings, while Blunt’s vocals came across as being surprisingly more vigorous live. He followed in quick succession with three more songs, Dangerous, Billy, and Wisemen, answering the lyric “Where are you now?” in the latter with a jocose “We’re in Malta baby!”

“I was going to tell you to sit down and listen to two or three hours of miserable songs, but many of you seem to have forgotten your chairs,” the Cherub faced singer-songwriter jested, before promising he would liven things up towards the end. “But for now here is what I do best, miserable songs,” he added as an introduction to his weepy, woeful hit single Carry You Home.

Seven songs in and the audience erupted with the loudest cheer of the concert thus far. No, this was not because All The Lost Souls album track I’ll Take Everything is a surprise favourite amongst the Maltese public, but rather as a result of the camera crew finally managing to get the big screen projection working. Up until that point the larger part of the audience was graced with a glaring screen of blue.

Camera related annoyances were to continue throughout the night. For the subsequent two songs the crew were still fiddling about with camera settings onscreen, and from then on the cameraman would every so often inexplicably lose his sense of direction altogether, suddenly focusing on Blunt’s shoes or the ever so exciting empty right side of the stage.

While there admittedly was a sprinkling of fans engaged with every doleful note swirling out of the tepid sound system, most present were merely counting down the minutes until the next hit single out of the handful came along. On Goodbye My Lover, the Maltese were dubbed the most in tune crowd Blunt had had the pleasure of hearing sing along to one of his songs. You’re Beautiful was met with a flurry of video phones in the air recording every precious second to share on Facebook later and force online friends into fits of shorthand envy. Yet these bouts of elation inadvertently highlighted the lulls of indifference in between.

Clearly Blunt is not the most rock ‘n’ roll soul in the music industry. This did not stop him from an abysmal attempt at crowd surfing however. He returned with his band for encores of Stay The Night and 1973, which sounded genuinely fun and entertaining, and then with a somewhat intriguing “See you all soon” the night came to a close. While Blunt would not have converted many unbelievers with his performance, it was a treat that the faithful relished fully.

Vicarious

Hey look it’s Jim, Jimmy, Jim-bo
How ya doin!? Want a smoke?
Light up, come on, be a good boy now
Beautiful, get us two Bourbons with coke!
Chlink chlink, knock that down JimJim,
Feels good don’t it?
Just you n’ me tonight like ol’ times
Man you lookin’ good Jim!
Me? Nah, look at this here gut
Beautiful, two more won’t ya
So what you been up to?
Really? You don’t say?
Seems like you’ve become a regular romantic
A silver tongued, sheethopping, freewheelin’ romantic
Good on ya, good on ya
Lucky ess oh bee
Bet you wouldn’t wanna trade with me?
Ah nah, cahn’t complain, not really
Jane? She’s been better to be honest
She once glowed, now she leaves perpetual shadows behind her
There’s that something missing
Every mornin’, ya know?
Dark circles beneath those eyes
Yeah, yeah, I know, I know
And I do Jim, I really do
And I know she does too,
Well you know, deep down I do
It’s not easy, but hey let’s not dampen spirits
Two more, chlink chlink
So tell me ‘bout life away?
How did you do it day to day?
You didn’t get bored?
Man, one day I’ve gotta go,
Haha, I know, I know
But better late than never as the suburban say
And don’t it get lonely?
Yeah, yeah
Well bless yer honesty
A day in the life, a day in the life
Believe me, that’s all it would take to make you run away
Drink drink Jimbo
It may not be festive season
But tonight let’s make merry
Beautiful … thanks
When we were young Jim you were my idol man
Funny how things don’t change
You’re still the silvertongued blue eyed boy you used to be
An idol for all o’us stuck on Humdrum Street
You took the road less rambled
The course less crossed
The path less pa.. pa … ahh fuck it
Hhhhhhhhhhhh
Riddle me this Jimbo!
Whatya call a blonde standing on her …
Hey! Hey! Watch it mate!
You just gone an’ spilled half my friend’s bourbon
Nah nah, it ain’t alright Jim,
Hey I’m talkin to you son
Bbbllllll
Aahhhhh ‘k Jim, aaahhh’ k
Byewtifull, yeah yeah two, sil vu play
Hhhhhhhh
Say say? You ain’t with anyone are ya?
My mate Jim here, he be the best there is
Hey come back, come back,
Jim, I'm sorry, I was jus’ tryin’,
How’d d’ya do it Jim?
How’d dy’a do it?
I’ve been tryin’ for fourteen years
Fourteen drawn out, drab, long long years
Still haven’t managed
And ya know what depresses me Jim?
What really jolts my innards into pitiful gloom?
It’s not that I wouldn’t out of some decisive piety
It’s that I couldn’t.
I couldn’t even if it was laid out pretty on a plate and all I had to do was dig in
The damn thing would somehow grow legs and run the hell off
Got no talent for it you see
Got no God-given talent
Hhhhhhhhhuhuh
Guess it wasn’t meant for me,
But it was the life for you JimJim
It was, the life, for you
Nah, nah, you just say that Jim
Cos you don’t know what it's like on the other side
Got no idea, too busy sowing your wild oats you’ve been
Ahhh Jim, JimJim,
Two mowr, twoooo, one-ah two-ah
You’re a good guy Jim,
You’re a good good guy
Goooooood
I-I, I’m hungry
Le’s goww get some foowd yeah?
Tell me more 'bout away
Just you n’ me Jim, like ol’ times

Threaten me with violence ...

Point a gun at my head and I'll dance for you
My feet will flex, my body twist
I'll take to the air
Watch Fred Astaire blush

Hold a knife to my throat and I'll sing for you
My voice will tower and soar
The crowds will gather, open jaws
They'll be asking for autographs later

Threaten me with violence and I'll find the cure for cancer
Innovate renewable energy technologies
Travel through wormholes
The world will never be the same again

Leave me alone, let me be and I will waste away
A nothing, a drifting nobody
Work, home, sleep, play, work
Home, sleep, play, work, home, sleep ...

Patrick Duff ~ Coach & Horses, B’Kara, 19/02/2011

{Published in The Times of Malta, 23/02/2011}

Dead Man Singing

Type ‘Patrick Duff’ into the search bar of video-sharing site YouTube and you’ll come across a clip of Duff’s 90s Britpop band Strangelove, performing their single Freak on some UK TV show. In this video the young Duff, all pasty white skin and greasy hair, frantically struts around the TV studio, jumping up onto an interviewer’s desk, arrogantly kicking off the few props there.

It is hard to believe that this is the same Patrick Duff who is now making his way to a lonesome stool in the middle of the inconspicuous Coach and Horses pub on Valley Road in Birkirkara. Wearing a snug ushanka on his head, there is an unmistakable air of gravitas to Duff’s languidly heavy movements and expressionless face.

He spends the first full minute or so, playing a morosely steady one-chord guitar shuffle, looking straight into the eyes of those in the room with his piercing stare. The babble gradually dies down until all that is left is the rattle of bottles and glasses at the bar.

When he feels he has everyone’s full attention, Duff croons his first words of the evening, a somewhat unsettling “Listen to a dead man singing.” The gloomy jazz-like melody calls Leonard Cohen’s Dance Me to the End of Love to mind. There is also an immediately noticeable Jim Morrison-esque quality to his vocals. By the end of the song the audience sounds surprised with a mixture of both wonder and amusement.

Duff introduces next song Spider Woman as being about falling in love with a woman who is an alcoholic. He sings with a frightening intensity; lips curling at the side, an almost psychotic look upon his face.

Much of Duff’s life seems to have been filled with events that have left him rather disillusioned with modern life and Western mindsets. He shares how since childhood he has been consumed with feelings of foreboding and despair. His ten year stint with not-so-commercially-successful Strangelove left him feeling lost when it all ended, all the perks of a rock ‘n roll lifestyle instantly vanishing.

Duff’s turnaround moment was when he discovered meditation some ten years ago, and this is what he expresses has finally allowed him to be at peace within. Yet Duff’s alleged inner peace is at odds with the subject matter of his meditations that seeps into his songs. These mostly feature ancestral or damned souls manifesting themselves to him, such as on the disquieting, if entrancing, King of the Underworld and Old Man Dewydd.

Six songs in and Duff abandons the microphone and continues in a truly unplugged format. “This is how they used to do it in the old days,” he jests. Flowers on my Grave is dedicated to Tim Ellis of local band Stalko, who “made contact with me, invited me over ... and has treated me like a brother.” This gratitude song’s sweetness offers a brief ray of light in a songlist that is otherwise laden with gloom.

Duff’s performance does become unintentionally farcical at times. He harshly howls melodies at the top of his lungs like a deranged drunkard, and then reverts to moments of almost incomprehensible whispers. During a cover of The Doors’ The End, he replaces the original’s spoken-word Oedipus narrative, with his own bizarre story about the sister of the sun in the middle of the Earth, repeating lines like “the sun loves its sister” over and over.

That having been said, Duff appears to have captured most of the audience’s imagination with his enigmatic persona. He may not go down in musical history as one of the greats of the Britpop movement that he was part of, but Patrick Duff’s newfound musical output is certainly much more intriguing than most other releases by survivors of the same scene.