On A Storyteller’s Night – Findlay Napier In Concert
Paul Woodgate writes:
The last night of a short UK tour, Findlay Napier’s arrival at The Hat Club coincides with England’s attempt to win a first Grand Slam for 13 years. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to wrestle a series of metaphors involving the heat of an international sporting contest with the nuanced, warmly inviting performance of an artist who delivers small song gems with the confidence of a Hatton Garden jeweller. So I’m not going to try. Suffice to say, those who chose the Big Brother soporific of TV to the intimate wood-panelled surroundings of Beaconsfield’s best may live to regret it; the Six Nations will roll around again, but will Findlay?
Those of us cosied up to the bar are treated to an evening of old-fashioned storytelling of a kind you rarely see in 2016. Think campfires and tradition, past voices being handed down, characters that spring up from the soil of childhood and a curiosity-bone last seen holding up a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Napier clearly revels in the back-story work, the research required to bring these songs to life, whether it’s the personality parade from the recent
VIP – Very Interesting Persons, local and infamous tales from previous albums or conjured from fertile imaginations, his and those of his collaborators, including Boo Hewerdine and wife Gillian Frame. It’s not often an evening will take in the first woman in space, the dead voices of World War One soldiers, dodgy tenement dealers, pugilists, baseball players and Hollywood actresses. And did I mention drunk siblings, student bedsits, marriages (to porn stars and midgets; not in the same song, mind) and con men straight out of a Dashiel Hammett novel (but real)? All human life is here, given a beating heart via Napier’s warm handshake of a voice and memorable melodies.
What a way with words. In the sublime Valentina, the imagery provoked by ‘...
she’s seen so much / We’ll look hand-made‘ neatly summarises both the loneliness generated by spinning around the Earth in a metal bucket and the humbling magnitude of being able to look down on said planet from such a lofty place. 52 Des is laced with an uncomfortable social message; the twist in Camerory takes your breath away, and the sweet hints of pathos and regret in the beautiful Hedy Lamarr are lump-in-throat stuff. Coupled with this, the ability to make people laugh is an oft-forgotten skill in the world of acoustic songwriting, but Napier has it in spades. Two songs in particular marry the craft of a well turned tale with the increased risk of sending your beer flying in the wrong direction; Heels Over Head (contender for best song title in the Half Man Half Biscuit category) has the protagonist explaining life as the spouse of a porn star, and the barely concealed vitriol of He’s Such A Sweetie is comedy par excellence with a 70% cocoa rating – dark and bitter.
An Idol In Decline is the highlight – a carefully produced portrait of legendary baseball player Mickey Mantle, his rollercoaster life is wonderfully evoked in the delicately picked guitar and emphasised in the middle-eight with the keening ‘Twilight..‘ lines speaking directly to that indistinct, blurred image of a man, a sport and a country settling into a greyer time. To follow it, a balladic cover of Wheatus’ Teenage Dirtbag, showcasing Napier’s range and sense of mischief (and dating his teenage years with some accuracy). He closes with another cover, a favourite from those same years, Rab Noakes’ Open All Night, sang lustily and with heart.
What a terrific way to spend an evening, in the company of someone who oozes class, so much so it barely looks like he breaks a sweat. He didn’t have to try hard to convert us; when you can sing about hookers and not give a ruck, you’re onto a sure fire winner. Oh, see what you made me do?
Photo courtesy of Di Holmes Photography.
